i was already in love with mat

When my mum moved out of home, she got herself a Rough Collie she named Jessica Mary Winch (Winch was her maiden name). Recently I have been pining for a Rough Collie, but I don’t know if I could handle a big dog or such a full-coated dog.

Summary:  Every person has two dates on their wrist. One is when they die and the other is when they find their soulmate. What happens if both dates are the same?

Warnings:  Angst galore but with a happy ending, I swear!  

Hope you guys enjoy, saw this prompt and I couldn’t NOT write the angst. Tbh, I kinda hate myself a little hahaha but it’s HEA, so don’t worry!

Jughead watches the city skyline from the fire escape stairs of his apartment, the smoke from his cigarette blending in with the scenery. He brings it to his mouth, taking a slow drag, enjoying the bitter taste it leaves on his tongue.

He catches sight of the numbers on his right wrist, not really needing to read them to know what they say.



Everyone on the age thirteen wakes up on their birthday with a brand new set of dates on their wrist, the first signaling the day you meet your soulmate and the second indicating the day you die. A little too dramatic and boring, in Jughead’s opinion, knowing when you meet your end definitely changed a person’s behavior… but he might be biased, bitter or both because on the morning of his thirteenth birthday he found out he would die the day he met his soulmate.

Funny, hilarious even. Of course, nothing in his life could ever be simple or easy. No, Jughead Jones and the easy way were complete strangers to each other. It wasn’t easy when his father got passed out drunk every day, it wasn’t easy when his mother had finally had enough, choosing to ran away with Jellybean… and it certainly hadn’t been easy when his father got locked up in jail for covering a murder.

So, when his thirteenth birthday came around, he was excited if not a little wary. Maybe something would turn out right for him. Jughead remembers with clarity the way his heart stopped inside his chest at the numbers, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands because his eyes must be seeing wrong, this had to be a mistake.

The lead weight right on his sternum had made it difficult to breathe as he let his wrist drift to the bed again. It made no noise but Jughead could still feel its phantom echoes on the now empty cavern of his heart.

The world simply didn’t want him to be happy, it seemed. Happy was uncharted. A town from which he’d been exiled, doomed to be forever wandering its edges but never really become a resident.

So, after days and weeks of brooding, Jughead decided to make something with the remaining years he had. He turned all his emotions onto his writing, the words being the only thing keeping him anchored to the real world. People came and went, but words remained a constant.

That’s how two years ago found him staring at his book, proudly sitting on the bookstore’s shelf next to other best-sellers. A genuine smile on his face, a flicker of happiness. Well, at least I’ve made a little mark in history.

His next breath comes out shaky against his will, he knew this day was coming, feeling like this was useless. He had everything ready, all the paperwork indicating that her sister would get everything he ever owned. Detailed instructions about how to proceed with his work were written on the draft of his next book series he had already written, furiously typing into his beaten up laptop, feeling the countdown on his wrist mocking him at every beat.

A part of the profits from his work would go to Fred and Archie Andrews. Jughead doesn’t really speak to Archie anymore, figuring it was best to just save him the trouble of dealing with a dead best friend at the age of 27 years old, but he would never forget how the Andrews gave him solace when he was so lost.

Jughead stays there, looking at the sleeping city that is so completely unaware of the tear that rolls down his face, his last goodbye, the last tear he would shed.

A part of him feels at peace because it all meant he wouldn’t feel hollow anymore, he would not have to wake up and go through the motions of it all, Jughead would just… finally rest. The struggle would be no more.

It’s funny, he thinks watching the sunrise, how much time one could spend talking or writing about it but usually not taking the time to actually witness it. The sky seems to be putting on a show just for him today, as if it’s bidding him goodbye, filled with deep purples, blues and the shade of yellow-orange the sun brings.

He spent a lot of time thinking about what he could do with this day. Considered not going out at all, or just wander through the city… but now that it is here, he’s not sure how to react to his impending destiny. Luckily for Jughead, the roar of his stomach makes the decision for him. He changes into his favorite clothes, a small comfort, but the beanie stays on the box meant for his sister.

The streets look the same. Logically, Jughead didn’t expect anything to change once he died, but he can still feel the resentment towards these clueless people that are just going to keep on living. He scoffs at the sudden bitterness of his thoughts.

He makes his way to this little cafe near his apartment, wanting the taste of their coffee and pancakes for at least one more time. Maybe even get a milkshake.

Jughead people-watches like he usually does as he waits for the traffic lights to turn red again. Thinking back on this moment he will later realize that if he hadn’t been people-watching, he might’ve not seen anything at all.

A little girl, big eyes and brown curly hair, is running. A big smile on her face, too lost in the innocence of the game to realize the light is still green and there’s a car approaching quickly.

“Caroline!” a woman shouts from the sidewalk, eyes wide in horror and the car keeps moving, honking.

If time had been passing slowly all day for Jughead, right now it feels as if it has finally stopped. He doesn’t understand exactly what is going on, but he feels himself sprinting across the street towards the girl before his mind can react. He reaches her, pushing her somewhat roughly out of the way, watching as the little girl falls backwards with a shocked expression, her mother screaming on the background.

Jughead had always been curious about how exactly he would die, if he was honest, and he can’t help but to think about how ironic it is that after knowing this day would come, it still catches him by surprise when the car slams into him.

His chest is on fire and he cannot breathe properly, flashes of faces come and go along the sounds of screaming and sirens. Jughead can barely distinguish words as his body is being pulled into an ambulance, or at least that’s what he thinks they’re doing.

The sound of doors closing and the bumps of the road that make him groan with every harsh movement, the wet sounds of his breathing in the small space. He vaguely notices he’s shivering even if he’s not cold, instead, he feels like he’s burning up from inside out.

Jughead hates the infinite struggle, he wishes he could just die and be done with it. He vaguely wonders why he never considered throwing himself off someplace high. Each difficult breath makes him want to scoff, remembering him of the character he wrote that gets hit by a car. If he has a chance to re-write it, he would because the agony is highly inaccurate to the simple pain he had inflicted. He should’ve George R. R. Martin the motherfucker.

The sudden movement of people lowering the stretcher to the ground, then forward, makes him cough and whimper a little at the pain that causes. In a haze, he’s able to open his eyes for a few seconds, the pristine white of the ceiling and its lights blinding, a flash of blonde hair that catches his attention before he’s unable to keep his eyes open anymore.

It feels like he just blinked but he’s under a blue ceiling now, the lights look closer and a constant beeping noise is making his head hurt badly. He distantly feels his body being moved from one stretcher to a firmer surface. His body feels numb, the wrong kind where you know you should be feeling something instead of nothingness.

His head moves to the side just before a person moves closer to him and even though her face is mostly covered by a surgical mask…

He knows.

Jughead would like to think that if he ever saw her without all the procedure stuff, he would still be captivated by her big green eyes. They’re filled with life in a way his never were. Shining upon him with an intensity that would leave him breathless if he wasn’t already struggling to breathe. 

Her hand finds his way to his forehead, pushing the matted hair back. 

“You’re going to be alright.” she says. 

Jughead closes his eyes for a second, making tears fall across his temples. Looking back at her, he thinks… I could see myself loving a person with such kind eyes. The thought makes a weird sob sound escape him as he internally curses every deity that participated in putting something so pure in front of him only to tear it away. Only to tear him away. 

He wants to tell her something, anything, but he’s too weak. He wants to tell her… 

I wish I had time to fall in love with you. 

I wish I could’ve seen your face just one time. 

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you were destined to see your soulmate die but damn am I glad you’re here and that I won’t die alone. 

You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. 

You look like loving you would be the easiest thing to do. 

I wish we had more time. 

He thinks maybe his eyes must be telling her all these thoughts because she frowns and shakes her head a little. 

“No. You’ll be fine.” She tells him, voice firm, her eyes leave him to watch at the monitors next to him for a second. 

He smiles at her in reassurance, or at least he tries to. He wants to tell her it’s okay, he’s ready for this… he has to. 

Jughead manages to looks at her, fighting his heavy eyelids, for a few seconds more before darkness claims him. 

He doesn’t get to hear the sentencing long beeping sound.

Heaven is shit. 

At least that’s what he thinks, because his body hurts like never before and his brain feels like it’s about to burst out of his skull. Groaning, he tries to move but before he can get too far he feels two small hands on his shoulders, pushing back. 

“No, no, don’t get up.” 

His opens his eyes at the sound. There, looking down at him is the most beautiful human being he’s ever seen. Blonde hair, peach lips stretched into a small smile and the green eyes he remembers, full of emotions he can’t decipher. She looks like everything he could ever need. 

“Hi” she says, voice only above a whisper. He’s suddenly aware of the way her hand surrounds his at his side, the contact anchoring him. 

“Am I dead?” he asks, frowning in confusion, voice hoarse. If he could see her so clearly… maybe heaven wasn’t so bad. A sound between a laugh and a cry escapes her lips. 

“You…” She begins, but pauses, seemingly to gather strength. “Technically, you did die. Your heart stopped beating… twice. But we managed to bring you back. You’re still in intensive care for a while just to make sure everything is really okay. You have a few broken ribs, a punctured lung and a fracture on your left leg.” 

She says, matter-of-factly, as her eyes fill with tears. Jughead tightens his hand around her fingers a little, a spark of something flowing through their veins that makes her gasp. He’s alive and she’s here. It leaves him shocked, all he can do is follow her with his eyes as she fidgets a little, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers twitch with the desire to do the same. 

“You really scared me back there, Forsythe.” She tells him softly and he internally winces at the name. 

“Jughead.” He finally tells her. She tilts her head to the side in confusion. “People call me Jughead. Forsythe is my father.” he explains. 

The most gorgeous smile appears on her face, a little amused. God, she’s so beautiful… 

“Well, Jughead… nice to meet you. I’m Betty Cooper, I kinda saved your life.” She says and he can already feel the dopey grin paint his face.

Little did she know just how right she was.

#265: He Hugs You From Behind


Hey hello it’s been a while since I’ve written a preference mainly because I’ve been busy and working a lot and I probably have some sort of ear infection because i’ve had so much chlorine water in the ears isn’t that awful? Also it’s Friday so that’s really nice. 

Requested: Yes //  Find my Masterlist here


“You’re cold?” He barely had to ask to figure out what was going on. You were shaking from top to toe, the wind was cold in your face and you most probably should have brought a jacket. “You don’t have to give out yours.” You managed to say as he zipped it down but he had another idea in mind. “That’s okay. I know just a way to share.” He was having a secret smile on his face and turned you around so your back was facing his chest. The jacket was huge which made it fit perfectly for the both of you to be in it and he zipped it close. “See,” He hummed against your ear, “Perfect for cuddles and warmth.”


“That looks great on you.” You looked up from focusing on the fabric to see him walk closer to the mirror. He had a warm smile on his face especially by the blush on your cheeks that were spreading. “I don’t know if it’s too much.” You folded the fabric around your stomach and hips, it was definitely tight but also showing your curves. “It’s not.” He admitted and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “I mean look at you.” He smiled and pressed his lips into your hair, “You look absolutely stunning.” You smiled softly by his words and help your arms against his, feeling his kisses continue down to your neck.


“What is my eyes spotting?” His voice was a little rough but obvious as he came into the kitchen. With sun streaming in through the cracks of the curtain and a happy smile on his face safe to say it was a good morning already. “You’re making me eggs and bacon?” “I think I’m making it for the both of us.” You smiled when he leaned his chin on the top of your shoulder and pulled you closer to his chest. His hair was matted against his forehead and his eyes were a bit tired but it couldn’t compare to his smile. “Seems delicious.” He whispered and moved your shirt up to caress the skin around your hips. 


“That’s what I love about this place. It’s so quiet and peaceful.” You turned your head so your cheek were pressed against his, seeing him nod his head in agreement. The view in front of you was so nice, the waves were crashing ashore and you could see the moon reflecting in the midnight water. “Can we just stand here for the rest of our lives?” He chuckled lightly by your question and leaned his head on the top of your hair. With his height it was easy and he took in the warm weather that was still surprising at night. “I wish we could.” He smiled and breathed in everything in life that mattered to him. You. 

How About That Drink?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: sexual innuendo, mild violence (Sparring)

Word Count:  1097

Summary: Bucky’s your new sparring partner in your group training session

A/N: I don’t know how happy I am with this but I also wanted to get something posted for you guys…Feedback greatly appreciated !!

I smirked victoriously as I knocked Tony back down onto the floor for the third time, my knee braced against the middle of his back. He huffed in frustration, managing to turn himself around so he was looking up at me, a disgruntled expression on his face. I laughed, tapping my finger against the middle of his chest. 

“Come on, it’s like you aren’t trying at all.”

I pushed myself back to my feet, helping Tony to stand before lowering myself back down into a fighting stance, a smile playing across my lips. I loved the days where we all trained as a group, being able to use some of the pent up energy that the boxing bag just didn’t get rid of. Steve had us go over multiple techniques and fighting regimes but hand to hand combat - Like Natasha - was my forte.

“Remind me again why we’re all learning this?” Tony grumbled, stretching out his arms while looking at Steve. We’d been on the mat twenty minutes and while I’d knocked him on his ass a few times already, he hadn’t been able to land even his first hit on me.
“Well we don’t all have fancy metal suits to protect us,” Clint replied from the sidelines, Tony glaring in his direction.
“Aw Tony, I’ll go easy on you this time,” I jested. “I promise.”

He mumbled something under his breath before getting back on the mat, lowering himself down into the same stance I’d taken, his fists in front of him as he prepared for my attack. I licked my lips, sending him a quick wink before I launched forward, using his outstretched hands as a foot hold, wrapping my leg around his neck. I used my body weight to try and tip us forward, hoping that Tony would lose his balance but I was surprised when Tony leant back instead, toppling both of us onto the floor, his body on top of mine. I would have been annoyed over not being able to see that coming but the look of elation on Tony’s face was enough to send me into a fit of laughter.

“I did say I’d go easy on you I suppose,” I said as Tony helped me back to my feet.
“Easy? Pfft,” Tony scoffed. “You didn’t even see that coming.”
He ruffled my hair affectionately before stepping off the mats, grabbing his water bottle as he sat down. I turned back to Steve.
“Who am I going against now?”
“I’d go,” Clint joked from his seat. “But that just wouldn’t be fair on you y/n/n, wouldn’t want it to be an uneven fight.”
“Come show me what you got Barton,” I replied, cocking one of my eyebrows. “I’d have that smirk wiped off your face in seconds.”

Keep reading


Hey, it’s Emily here from MEA3Gaming. After reading through the game theory and matpat tag recently, I decided enough was enough and I was going to finally speak what’s on my mind instead of keeping my mouth shut.

When I saw the Gaster video yesterday, I knew the hate (or what you people call ‘Jokes’) to come was inevitable. It broke my heart before I even clicked on the video to watch it as I knew that he was trying to do something he once loved again but it was only going encourage the people who made ‘memes’ or ‘jokes’ of him last time. However, seeing Mat look so helpless and upset just put the icing on the cake for me. I can already see the anons now raising their pitchforks screaming at me to ‘kys’ (real mature by the way) and that he was ‘being a pussy over the fact that people didn’t find his gift the best’. To the people who are saying this, have you even watched the video? Honestly have you? If not or have a hard job understanding it I can post everything he said in a different post and explain each and every sentence if that helps. For the Sans is Ness theory, do I think Sans is Ness? No, of course not, heck mat doesn’t himself! He made it as a joke, to try something new with his favourite games. In the most recent theory Mat even says ‘Did I in anyway think that this was cannon lure to the series, no. Of course not I didn’t think that Sans is actually Ness, but at the end of the day these are theories meant to get you to think about things from a different perspective.’. 

For the Pope video, I was actually extremely proud of Mat. He was asked to give the pope something that represents his community, which is of course games. I’m glad he didn’t just give the pope a flag or something that just have no deep meaning for what he stands for, but something a lot of people within the indie gaming community can relate to. (Before everyone jumps on my back saying ‘It was just a meme!!!’, “Don’t be butt hurt!!!’ just read the rest of the post, even though most of you won’t and will just jump to conclusions like you do with the theories.) For years gamers have been linked to violence (heck as I kid I wasn’t allowed to play any games unless my parents have made sure there was nothing in it) but this game is just a breath of fresh air. Don’t get my wrong I’m not a huge fan of the game in anyway, I understand why people like it its just not for me, but for a lot of people in the undertale community the game are their lives! So why are you all so upset that he gave the pope your favourite game? If someone gave something to the man who I have grown up to loving and being a huge deal within my family, I would be ecstatic. A game no less that breaks the mold of what people stereotypically think of us. But of course some of you find something to gang up on him with. He actually did not talk about game with the pope but rather online bullying, I actually can send you the link if you still don’t believe me or even type out everything he said in a different post from when he spoke to the Pope!

Lastly, the reason why I am so mad about this is the fact that I have experienced bullying, in fact at a young age. I’m not looking for pity, heck it was years ago and I take that experience with me to help others, but I know how crushing it feels. I won’t give details just as it’s personal to me but I was told to grow up and that it was ‘just a joke’. That the names, the taunts, the pushing was just ‘playground banter’, that it was ‘just what happens’ but it’s not. A joke is to make someone laugh, not cry. A joke is to make someone happy, not that they feel like they are useless. So to the people who are still calling it a ‘joke’ just stop for a moment, think about everything you have said and think to yourself what if that was me who was receiving this? What if I woke up everyday to messages saying that I am useless, that I am am unloved. And just grow up and be mature for once, as for people like me who have experienced this first hand, it is something you honestly wouldn’t wish on ANYONE. Sorry it’s so long, I had a lot on my mind and if any of you guys have been bullied or are being bullied, or if you just want to ever talk, you are always welcome to message me.

Emily xx

Drop Down and Give Me

Request: 25. ‘Make Me’ with Steve Rogers.

Character(s): Steve Rogers x Reader, Sam Wilson

Words: 450

Warnings: Tension - Lots of it, Fluff

A/N: It has taken me a while to actually figure out a story for this request. This will be a nice little drabble.

Originally posted by luvinchris

“Alright, Alright Sam let up!” You tap Sam’s arm signalling for him to let you out of the choke hold.

“Come on Y/N, you’ve taken down almost 10 men in less than 2 minutes, but you can’t get out of a single choke hold?!” Sam snorts, pulling you up.

“Well excuse me Bird-Man, it’s not like I didn’t get my butt handed to me yesterday or anything. Was my bruised cheek not a give away?” I swat his arm.

“Did you just call me Bir-” Sam’s cut off.

“And that’s exactly why you need to be training harder today, Y/N.” The stern voice utters standing in the doorway. 

“You’re in trouble now…” Sam leans in whispering to you.

“You have got to be kidding me, Steve…” 

“I’m not, Y/N you’re doing an extra hour training today. Sam, I’ll take over from here.” He replies never breaking eye contact with you. 

“Roger that, Rogers.” Sam snorts exiting the gym glancing at you smirking.

“Steve, it was an honest mistake, I got cocky and thought I could take them all. You already lectured me enough for it yesterday. And I have this nice little reminder on my cheek.” 

Steve slowly stalks towards you “Forty Push-ups.” 

“You’ve lost your ever-loving-mind, Rogers. I’ve just worked out for the past two hours.” you walk towards the exit, swinging your gym bag over your shoulder.

“Better yet, don’t stop until I say stop.” he growls blocking you.

 You glare up at Steve’s towering height, attempting to push your way past him.

Steve sweeps your legs from underneath you, pinning you to the gym mat. “I swear to god Rogers!!” You lock your ankles around his waist rolling him over. “If you don’t let me go!” Steve flips you back over, his blue eyes a shade darker. “If you would just stop and follow directions. And stop being so hard headed I wouldn’t have to do this. Now, stay down and give me forty.” Steve’s body flush against yours, his expression mixed with annoyance and slight amusement.

“Make Me…” Your teeth grit together

Everything happening at a dizzying speed, lips crashing to yours. Trying to steady yourself closing your eyes, pulling him closer deepening the kiss. Steve holds on firmly to your right thigh while steadying himself with his hand by your head.

Simultaneously you both break the kiss, breathless. You try to steady your breathing keeping your eyes closed. He rests his forehead against your’s trying to read your expression 

Blushing you gaze up at him through your half shut eyes,“You should make me more often, now drop back down and give me twenty more soldier..”

“Yes ma’am.” he mumbles while leaning back down kissing you.

Permanent Tag List: @iamwarrenspeace


Originally posted by effindivergenteric

Prompt 7: Eric Coulter

“You know they’re gonna use things you love against you.”


Y/N- your name

h/c- hair color

Tagging- @wynterrobin (bit different from what I usually write, but I still hope you like it!)

Honestly, I have no idea where this went but I hope you like it.

He watched her take down an initiate without mercy, while she grinned widely at her victory. “You cannot expect brute strength to always be your ally. They bigger they are the harder they fall.” She reached a hand down to the stout initiate smiling at him. “No hard feelings?”

“What’s the point of knocking him on his ass, then asking no hard feelings,” He called, stalking toward the group, grinning internally at the fear across multiple faces. “Don’t tell me you feel bad?”

Eric felt his chest constrict while she stared up at him, no traces of fear on her face. She smiled at him, before turning back to the initiate helping him up. “No, I don’t feel bad. It happens in training. Four, you ready?”

He watched his enemy nod, before he turned back to her. She stepped back to the center of the mat. “Coulter, if you’re not going to help, get off the mat.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, “I’m starting to want you to make me Y/N.”

“I don’t wanna embarrass you Coulter. After all, I was only a point behind you,” She smirked, gesturing for him to move.

“A point which means you still don’t measure up to me. Are you sure you should be teaching this class,” Eric crossed his arms, trying to undermine her.

She still held that smirk on her face and she showed no sign of anger. “The only reason your questioning my authority Coulter, is because you don’t like the way I’m doing things. You think I’m being too soft. You want to fight, but I’m not going to sink down to that. Now get off the mat.”

He held her gaze, while the initiates shuffled nervously.

Eric grinned, before stepping to the side of the mat. One thing he loved more than anything was to try and ruffle her feathers, but he could never seem to get her angry enough. She brushed aside his comments and harsh demeanor never sinking down to yell or argue with him.

“Y/N you take the six and I’ll take the other six,” Four pushed past Eric roughly taking the fearful initiates. Eric sent a glare towards Four, before turning back to the girl who was already beginning her own lesson.  

“Alright, get into pairs of two,” She commanded, while the initiates scrambled to get together.

“Shower up, eat and get some rest. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” She called to them while Eric came up behind her wrapping his arms around her. “Must you always be an ass.”

She elbowed him off of her, before walking over to the mat. “You’re not upset at me Y/N.”

“Of course not. I mean why would someone I love keep telling me that I don’t measure up to him. That requires no anger at all,” She sighed, before unwrapping her fists. “I don’t want to deal with this right now. I’ll see you later.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, leaving the training room. Eric rolled his eyes before stalking towards the dining area. He followed behind her seeing her meet up with her friends.

Eric knew better than to get angry when the man beside her threw his arm around her shoulders. He knew that she belonged to him and the man beside her was no competition to him. Mild irritation had him clenching his fists as he followed them. She sat beside the man, shoving his arm off of her with a smile.

“Why don’t you just tell everyone that she’s yours? Ashamed,” Eric heard Max’s voice ask. He glanced at the dauntless leader.

“What is between us stays between us,” His gruff voice, held irritation as he watched the man beside Y/N brush his hand against her side making her laugh. He gazed at her, everything about her he loved in his own way. He would never be ashamed of her, no matter how stubborn and hard headed she was.

“You were never a private person Eric,” Max teased him, while a grin made it’s way onto Eric’s face. “I’m sure many women can testify to that.”

Eric glanced at the women that he had slept with, before he turned his gaze back to the one who captured his cold heart in her warm hands. While he gazed at her, she turned glancing up at him, giving him a breathtaking smile. She stood up, shoving what was left of the food on her tray towards the man beside her. “Duty calls.” He sent a smirk towards Max, leaving him along with the other leaders.

He leaned against the door, watching her ignore him, as she brushed her h/c hair. “I’m not going to apologize.” She continued to ignore him, brushing the tangles. He rolled his eyes, moving towards her wrapping his arms around her. “Do you remember when I told you, that you were my weakness but I loved you anyway.” She stiffened slightly, before her body relaxed against his. She turned around, her hands stroking his cheeks. She stared into his eyes, nodding. “What did you say to me?”

“You know they’re gonna use things you love against you.” Her quiet voice reached his ears. “If they find out.” He pulled her impossibly closer to him, so much so that he could see the different colors in her curious eyes.

“I want people to know you’re mine,” Eric rested his forehead against her’s. He grinned while her eyes flashed dangerously. “And how I’m yours.”

“So you would allow yourself to be with someone who doesn’t measure up to you,” She hissed, stepping away from him going back to brushing her hair. “Do you honestly think that after that, I’d allow myself to be claimed as a possession.”

Eric groaned, slamming his hand on the door beside him. He was back to square one, she set the brush down. “You’re so damn..” Eric hissed back stopping himself.

“Say it…” She glared at him, before she stepped around him. “I’m going back to my room.”

He clenched his jaw, watching her walk towards the door. “You’re forgetting your knife that you sleep with when you’re alone.” She paused, before turning around to face him.

“How did?” He watched her stutter slightly.

“There’s always a knife on your side of the bed. When I work late and you stay over, you always have the same knife clutched in your palm, but when you hear me you put it off to the side.” Eric replied, moving toward her.  

“How long have you known that I did that,” She whispered, while he sat on the chair beside where she was standing.

“Since the second night you stayed here,” He watched her, as she paced. “I’m guessing it’s a fear of yours to be attacked while your sleeping.”

She laughed, avoiding his eyes. “Both a fear and a reality, I suppose. I didn’t think you caught on.”

“Of course I did. Hell I thought you were going to attack me while we slept,” Eric yawned holding his hand out to her. “Why don’t you have it while I’m with you?”

She took his hand, allowing herself to be pulled onto him. “Because I don’t need it and you didn’t need extra cuts on your body.” She leaned her head against her shoulder. “You’re not the only one who feels vulnerable Eric.” He held her closer kissing the side of her head.

She moved so she was straddling his lap, he grinned at her while he pulled her flush against him. “You’re mine, so don’t pretend you don’t like it when I tell you that,” Eric pressed his lips against her’s in a searing kiss. “I want everyone to know.”

K but this team is the best team EVER! Mats and Boateng playing even tho they weren't already recovered, Manu showing why he's the BEST goalkeeper in the world, Lewy running for every ball, Thomas coming into the pitch with such a great attitude, Philipp being as perfect as always and absolutely every single player giving everything they could, I love this team so bad and I'm so proud, DANKE BAYERN!! MIA SAN MIA

anonymous asked:

I'm sorry but this is my opinion. And this happened with Jackson from Got7. But why the hell does it matter if they have dreadlocks? It's just a hair style. Jaebum had dreads nothing happened. So did Taeyang from big bang. Still nothing. So why does it matter. And most of the time when they have a different hair style it's bc the stylists want that. And why do you think it's a big no no? I'm just wondering sorry if I cake off mean

The reason why dreads are a “no-no” is because only people of African or Caribbean-African descent are able to naturally grow them.
Only certain types of hair can dread and lock themselves into that pattern naturally.
When other people do it it is not even dreading really, it’s just this nasty matted material that looks god-awful.

This then perpetuates the stereotype that dreads are “dirty” or “ghetto” bc of how bad it looks on the people who try to imitate it.
Dreads are clean, natural, and beautiful. The reason why it’s a big deal is because kpop already markets off of black and African culture down to a T.

I know you didn’t mean to come off rude. I respect your curiosity. This is just a small explanation on why non-African/Caribbean people wearing dreads is cultural appropriation

Much love, Alex💛

The Yellow Dress ( Hercules x Reader )


Summary: Hercules is a fashion major and asks (Y/N) to model one of the dresses he’s made.

Au: modern college

Warnings: a shirtless Hercules, curse words, ass squeezing, making out?

Word count: 1,479

a/n: Yesterday was the last day of @hamwriters Write-A-Thon! The prompt was to write an Oak or Hercules or Madison fic. This is actually coming out one day late oops. Well, I’m glad the Write-A-Thon is over because although I actually managed to do it, I found it stressful to come out with a fic everyday haha.


It was a summer night and you were at a typical cliché college house party. It was hosted by one of your friends, Alex. He was quite the wild one, always being reckless and the ‘act before thinking’ type of dude.

The music was loud as hell and you were sitting alone on a green and blue arm chair, downing a cup of Alex’s famous 'fruit punch.’ In the beginning it was fruit punch, but he had a habit of adding tonnes of alcohol in it. Across the room was your best friend Hercules. Your stupid best friend and nothing more. Oh how you wished you were more than friends. You were quite similar to Alex, always acting before thinking, you were super drunk and already feeling how bad your hangover would be tomorrow.

Slowly, you got up from the chair, still clutching your drink as you tipsily made your way over to Herc. You realised he was talking to some girl that you didn’t know and furrowed your eyebrows.

“Woah (Y/N)!” Herc shouted as he looked at your body. You were wearing a short red dress that seemed to get a lot of attention along with 5 inch red heels which killed your feet. “How wasted are you!” He continued.

You wanted to reply to him, but your head was banging and suddenly you lost balance of yourself and fell over. Which caused your drink to pour all over your body. You were on the floor and your head was pounding even more than it was before. Herc’s warm arms lifted you off the ground and carried you bridal style.

“Okay, let’s get you home (Y/N).” He whispered.

Herc carried to your apartment, which wasn’t very far. He remembered that you always kept a spare key under the mat so he opened the door, brought you into your bedroom and laid you on your bed.

“I love you (Y/N). Sleep tight.”

Your eyes shot opened and it was already morning. You darted up and your head felt like it was hit by a shit ton of bricks. Last night you heard Herc say that he loved you. Or did you? You were so wasted, you couldn’t remember most of the events that happened last night. All you remembered was being at Alex’s party and Herc talking to you. How did I get into my bed? You asked yourself. Realising you were still in yesterdays clothes you got up and changed into a pair of black shorts and a red t-shirt with the word Trippy on it.

You walked out of your bedroom and saw Herc sleeping on your sofa. To your left was his shirt, which confused you. Heading over to your kitchen, you grabbed a glass and poured yourself a cup of water. Accidentally, you knocked it over, causing it to fall off the counter and crash onto the floor. Which resulted into Herc waking up and standing up off the couch. You stared at his shirtless body. Shit. Fuck. Damn he looked so handsome. He gave an awkward smile and grabbed his shirt and put it on. Your smile died down a bit.

“What happened yesterday?” You asked him.

Herc didn’t do anything but rush to your side and attempted to clean up the pieces of glass on the floor.

“Herc. Stop. I’ll do it, go sit over there and tell me what happened yesterday”

He went over to sit on a stool and began to tell you what happened yesterday. “Okay well, we were at Alex’s party, I’m guessing you already know that.” You nodded your head as you picked up the pieces of glass. “You drank lots of 'fruit punch.’” He air quoted. “Went over to talk to me and collapsed. So I picked you up and brought you back here.” He continued.

“Right.” You said as you put the glass into the bin.

“Oh and I stayed here so that nothing happened to you, and so you wouldn’t do anything stupid. I know what you’re like when you’re drunk.”

You laughed quietly as you poured yourself another glass of water and downed it.

“Thanks.” A smile appeared on Herc’s face.

“Well I actually gotta back to the house to get ready for classes. I’ll see you later!”

“Oh right. Uhm yeah. See you later.”

He walked out the front door. You were still in shock that Herc told you that he loved you last night. Although you didn’t have any classes today, you still went into your bathroom to have a long hot shower as you were feeling so groggy from yesterday.

After you got out of the shower you looked on your phone, Herc texted you.

From: Hercy Turkey
Hey I forgot to ask you if you could come to the house later, I need you to model a dress I made

Herc had asked you to do this millions of times and you’ve always said yes. This time, you weren’t so sure. But because he’s your friend you agreed.

To: Hercy Turkey

From: Hercy Turkey

To: Hercy Turkey

You looked at the time, it was 12. That gave you around an hour to get ready and make sure he didn’t know that you were a wreck from last night. Even though he already knew that you were a wreck from last night. You changed into a pair of leggings and a baggy sweater before putting on a bit of makeup. Then, you made your way to the house.

The door was wide open as people were still leaving the house. Jeez you thought. You walked into the living room to see Eliza picking up cups and putting it in a trash bag whilst Alex was still trying to get over his hangover. Eliza was always the responsible one in your little group. Thank God Alex had Eliza, he’d be even more of a train wreck than he is now if he wasn’t with her.

“Ah. (Y/N) I saw what happened yesterday, you okay?” Eliza asked as she looked up at you.

“Yeah. So you’re tidying up these guys’ mess?” You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Hmm. I really should just leave everything and let these guys tidy up.” She said pointing to Lafayette and John who were lying on the floor.

“Hey. Hey baby. Can you be a bit quieter? My head hurts.” Alex wrapped his arms around Eliza.

“Sure honey. I love you.” She whispered.

“I love you too Liza.”

“Anyway, why are you here (Y/N)?” Eliza asked you.

“Oh I’m here for Herc’s new dress,” you finally realised what you were here for.

“Oh right. He’s in his room.”

You smiled at her as a way of saying thank you and went upstairs to Herc’s room. His door was closed so you gently knocked on it, in a few seconds he opened if with a huge smile on his face.

“Hey!” “Hello!”

You both said at the same time. A wide grin appeared on your face as you saw a bright yellow flared sundress on a hanger. Your eyes widened in awe.

“Herc! That’s the dress?” He nodded. “It’s beautiful!” Squealing as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. You let go and asked.

“When do I get to try it on?”

“Now would be a great time. Uhm. I’ll leave the room.”

Herc left the room quickly, leaving you to put on the dress. You quickly took your clothes off an slipped on the dress. But there was one problem. The zipper.

“Herc! I need help with the zip. It’s. Stuck.” You called.

He rushed in and closed the door behind him. Herc held your hair up to get it out of the way and pulled the zipper up. It was a silent moment. You turned around, tucked your hair behind your ear and gulped. Your eyes looked up to his big eyes and stared at them. A slight smile struck his face, and with that you giggled and looked down at his feet. He lifted your chin up, bent down and placed a kiss on your lips. His tender hands moved to your waist as the kiss got more passionate. Making your lips tingle in excitement. Your hands were placed on his neck, pulling him closer as his tongue slipped into your mouth. His hands moved lower and made its way to your ass and squeezed it. Luring a moan from you.

You both pulled apart, he stood up properly and placed his chin on the top of your head, his arms still wrapped around you.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I know. I heard you tell me last night.” You told him.

“Did I tell you that you look gorgeous in this dress?” He said.

“Hey! Don’t change the subject.” You paused. “Because. Because I love you too.”

Things people say while playing Dream Daddy, but appear as almost nonsensical out of context

“Show us your daddy when you’re done!!”

“Mary shows up and the music stops.”

“I love Amanda already.”

“I flirted with Brian and eggplants went everywhere.”

“Holy shit the Pokémon dad battle.”


“What shall I name this beautiful dad.”


“Do Not fuck Robert at the first chance.”

“Wait a minute. Mat is a rock fan. Oh. I’m weak.”

“Oh god Hugo my heart.”

“Joseph has satan children.”

“She’s like Damien. But bitchy-er.”

“Can I date both.”


“I just got three eggplants in a row from Joseph.”

“Omg.. Mat’s daughter… Fluffy……”

“I want to poke Brian’s belly.”

“I want to save Joseph……”

“Craig looks like he needs a nap.”

“Guys… Damien’s adorable and i’m crying.”

“Man my mom wants a turn lmao.”


feel free to add more! i’ll probably put some more in later.



Sure, I had to spent 150 crystals to do it to get the one shard I needed after BOTH of the Light/Dark Side battles wouldn’t even give me one shard for him (six battles to fight! six chances at one shard! not a single one! arrggghhh!), but Rage Baby is worth it!

AND DID I PROCEED TO SPOIL THE HELL OUT OF HIM?  YES.  YES, I DID.  I spent almost 2 million credits on him, all my training droids, as many ability mats as Rage Baby needed, and now I’m going to farm for some good mods for him.


anonymous asked:

Could I get some uhhhh 2doc fluff. Preferably some body appreciation for my pickle dad!! Thx

AhHHh, I love this? Thanks for the prompt! Send more!!

This is kinda and overall appreciation but yee!

Violence and alcohol abuse/angsttttt


It was one of /those/ nights at Kong studios. While the other band mates had their annual zombie flick marathon, courtesy of 2D, Murdoc had himself locked away from humanity, blasting his favorite Black Sabbath vinyl and flicking through the various tricks he knew with his butterfly knife while he laid idle on his silk sheets. Nights like these were Murdoc’s alone time, a time where he could let down his walls and put his bad boy persona behind him. Although, tonight was a sober one, which always led his own thoughts to ruminate and boil within him, making him flinch and writhe at each unforgiving memory, each blow, each nickname, each scarring cigarette burn he had ever received from his father. It still shook him to this very day how everything he’d been put through was as vivid as if it all unraveled just the day before. He gulped back his thoughts for a moment only to sit up from his bed and look across the end of his Winnebago to the body mirror that rested atop a moldy pile of clothing. He stared at his reflection for a moment, attempting to make eye contact with the man he saw. Wrinkles with each expression, flabby muscles, even a small but noticeable ‘beer belly’ hanging over his tight jeans but worst of all /green/ the color that he knew had been passed along with his Niccals name. He grimaced at the man he saw, his father. He’d never noticed or maybe never wanted to..that behind all his drunken confidence /this/ was left behind, an empty abuser who fought so hard to be known as a sex god or sex appeal itself. Murdoc’s bottom lip quivered but was quickly bitten back in detest, rather, he traded in his sadness for anger like he often did and let his eyes raid the room for rum, beer, whiskey..sweet satan anything to make his reality disintegrate before him. He’d promised Stuart and the others he’d cut back majorly since the last drinking outburst nearly sent his singer to the hospital and as well as himself since Russ decided on a few more blows to his busted to hell and back nose, but what they didn’t know couldn’t really hurt them or if they did know, would it? When he eyes finally struck gold, he never second guessed himself only did what he knew best, drank until the wall he’d built from day one was up and heavily guarded. And then again, he was already too far gone to remember whether he put the wall up in the first place.




Suddenly, Murdoc’s heavy lids fluttered open, his Winnebago barely letting in just enough light to know it was daylight. His eyes adjusted on a small pale face with wet blue fringe matted to his cheeks. Murdoc lifted his calloused hand and softly stroked 2D’s face, feeling warm water roll down in droplets on his fingertips, the poor bloke was crying.

“What’s the matter, love?”

“I-I didn’t come back las night, ended up fallin asleep on the couch-”

“-and?” Murdoc interrupted, slight irritation in his groggy voice feeling it was too early to be nagged

“And..well I was worried tat yew weren’t well when ya didn’t come ta practice tis mornin’-”

“I rarely come to practice nowadays”

Stuart’s body began to tremble beneath him as he clutched desperately at the compassionate hand that laid rested upon his own cheek,

“Murdoc, et’s nearly 6pm now..when I came to check in.. yew.. yew were like tis”

The bassists brows furrowed at the sudden drop in his lovers tone. What had he done to put such a trance on him. When Murdoc looked about him he’d noticed empty bottles, some old and some that looked like they were cracked open that night. He’d binged, wandered out for more to drink, drank like nothing else mattered and nearly comatosed. Stuart wasn’t nagging, he was worried..heartbroken even. Murdoc scuttled up to his knees, matching 2D’s height while the bluenette sat crying into his palms, he examined his singer for a moment before resting his apologetic hands on his shoulders. If the satanist could choose one word to describe his lover it was bruised. Stu was decorated in them whether they be hickies or hate filled blows, they were everywhere. Murdoc’s breath hitched for a moment as he toppled over 2D, the both of them colliding into deep embrace.


Murdoc’s voice was dripping with honey as he began to trace a free hand over every detail he so very much loved about Stuart Tuss Pot. His collarbones, his small adamsapple, the way he shivered when his real name was presented as if on a silver platter. How was it that someone so beautiful could love someone as disgusting as he.

“I’m sorry I’m not good enough”

2D’s eyes widened at the statement and used all of the strength he possessed to flip their positions, Murdoc now below him, exposed and vulnerable, just the way he hated it. The bassists fought his lover on this position of course but only for a moment as he began to melt to the loving gazes and soft lulls above him. Stu cupped Murdoc’s face, thumbing softly at his facial stubble, smiling softly at the man he knew he had wrapped around his thin piano fingers.

“Yew’re perfect”

“/You’re/ perfect, crafted by a god”

Murdoc argued but 2D softly shushed him as he gently traced over everything he himself loved about the bassist which consequently was everything the other hated. The delicate tracing was enough to send Murdoc over the edge, balled up and releasing gross sobs below the bluenette. He cringed at each loving touch, hit at some but mostly clung to himself wanting to hide everything that he wasn’t but oh how he wished he could be just for his bluebird.

“I love you, Murdoc Faust Niccals. You, everything about you. It’s all mine.”

2D cooed his word as if he were singing a song for his lover, singing each lyric for him and only him. Stuart was Murdoc’s very own private concert and he was the dumb fan girl thinking each and every word was about him and maybe they really were, but he was too insecure to admit that the lyrics were his. And there they laid, enveloped in one another, whispering sweet affirmations and lips locking as if their lives depended on it. They gave each other the energy they needed to live, to be confident, to be who they were because in the end that’s who they loved, each other.

“do you think that maybe
I could be one of those things
that you hate at first but eventually learn to love
and then trust
and then touch
and then fuck
yeah I bet you will”

Ps: note how Brian “stoned af” Sella wants to sing in the end when it’s already over

Pps: after the show Brian told me that they played the song for me ❤️

Andre Burakovsky and cuteness (Requested)

“Let’s play a game!” Latta shouted, running over to the cabinet filled with games. You walked into the living room to see Tom and Andre sitting on the couch talking about god knows what. You took a seat on the floor next to the fire place.

“Michael! You don’t have to grab every single one.” You laughed as Michael tried to juggle five games and a case of beer. 

“Well I didn’t know what game to pick.” He set the games on the coffee table and handed each of you beer. You thanked him and looked towards Andre. 

“What are you two boys whispering about?” You asked. Andre turned to you and blushed. 

“Oh just about hockey and stuff. Nothing really important, baby.” Andre said, getting up off the couch and moving next to you. He grabbed your hand and started planting kisses all along your hand and arm. The touch of his lips along your skin made you giggle.

“Andre!” You squealed as he continued to move his lips along your body. “Cut that out.” You tried to move his head away from your body but failed, only resulting in him moving closer to you so his lips could reach your neck.

“Oh get a room you two, we’re supposed to play a game not have some weird ass sex.” Tom laughed, looking through the games Michael had brought. 

Andre laughed, planting a single kiss on your lips then backing away, holding your hand tight in his. You moved closer to the games to get a better look. “Let’s play Twister!” You grabbed the box and immediately started to set it up. All the boys shook their heads in agreement and moved closer to where you were setting it up. 

“I haven’t played this game in forever.” Tom laughed, taking a swig of beer.  

“Okay, who wants to spin the little wheel?” You asked, holding the wheel out. Michael nodded, and grabbed the cardboard, taking a seat on the couch. “Okay then, Tom, Andre, get ready to lose.” You laughed, taking a sip of your beer.

“No, wait, we gotta make this hard.” Michael said, “Chug your beers, it may not effect you boys but it will definitely effect y/n.” They laughed. “Such a little light weight.” You gave them all a dirty look as you downed your drink.

“Let’s get this started.” You jumped up down, Andre gave you a weird look. “What, babe, are you scared to lose?” 

Andre grabbed your waist, “I’d be an honor to lose to you, baby.” He kissed you first on the lips, then on the neck. He moved his mouth to your ear, “But it’d never happen.” He whispered. 

You shoved him off laughing, “I’m pretty fuckin’ competitive, boy. I wouldn’t try and challenge me.”

“Start the game already, Michael, before these two drive me crazy.” Tom joked.

“Okay okay.” He spun the wheel. “Right foot red.” All the feet went to red. “Right hand green.” You could already see Tom shaking from keeping balance. “Right foot blue.” You kissed Andre, causing him to wobble. 

“Don’t be a cheater.” He laughed, kissing you this time.

“Left hand red.” 

“Get your ass out of my face, Tom.” You laughed. 

“I like my view quite a bit.” Andre joked, kissing your behind softly. 

“Andre!” You laughed, causing you to fall forward, bumping Tom off the mat. 

“Look who won!” Andre yelled, grabbing another beer and downing it. “Who’s ready for round two, baby?” 

“I hate you, you little cheater.” You whispered in Andre’s ear. 

“I love when you look all flustered from losing, you should do it more often.” He joked, kissing you. “I love you, baby.” He kissed softly. “Now drink up, baby, and get ready to lose another game.” 

Man Killer - Hedley (Peter Parker Imagine)

Warning: Some swear words

Originally posted by peterparkerimagine

/Red lips
Big eyes
No vanilla
Make you wanna cry
Sweet little surprise
She’s a killer
Telling no lies/ 

 From a distance, you look harmless, pretty face, petite body and long pretty hair, it’s funny though - nobody would believe you’ve been trained by the Black Widow. Maybe that’s way Peter loved you. You could kick ass. He stood in the entrance of the gym in the Avengers tower, which he spent weekends at, mainly to bond with the team and be with you. He watched as you smiled at Steve and Buck who stood opposite you on the sparring mat. Normally Steve and Bucky are off on a mission or have already trained before you train. They’ve never sparred with you. ‘This should be easy, Y/N is small’ Steve thinks to himself. 'I hope Y/N doesn’t get hurt.’ Bucky thinks as he stands ready. 'This’ll be good.’ Peter smirks. The gym is silent as the other avengers gather around the ring 

 /Pretty like a lemonade and a smile and a 45
If you fuck with my girl, you could lose your life
I don’t gotta lift a finger
'Cause I got me a ringer/

Peter smiles as you give Steve and Bucky a sweet smile and get into your stance. Steve approaches you and throws a punch to which you duck, grab his arm and flip him over your shoulder. Bucky stands up straight and stares, jaw slack. He shakes his head and returns to his stance.

“Go babe!” Peter yells as he joins Natasha at the edge of the mat. Nat and him share a smirk. Peter stares in awe. He could watch you fight forever. He loves the way your lithe body moves, like a jungle cat on the prowl, and at the moment Steve and Bucky are your prey.

Bucky throws his metal arm towards you as Steve gets up. Like Natasha taught you; you grab his arm and swing your body around Bucky, your legs around his neck. You twist his to the ground and jump up, kicking Steve in the stomach without even looking.

/Well if you mix with my girl, it’s fine
You can get a dose/

Steve and Bucky lay on the ground and moan. Your shoulders sag and you pout. 

“Come on guys, I was just getting started!” You say as you shoot Nat and Peter a look.

“I think they made need some medication and a visit to Bruce.” Nat smirks as she comes onto the mat to observe your damage.

Peter runs up to you and wraps his arms around your waist. you turn into him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“That was extremely hot, babe.” He says. You smirk and push your lips against his. He pulls away to rest his forehead against yours.

/I don’t gotta lift a finger
It’s just me and my ringer/ 

“I love how kickass you are. It’s so hot to have a girl who can kick anyone’s ass”

“What about your masculine ego?”

He kisses you again pulling you in closer, his hands travelling from your waist to under your butt, you giggle into the kiss. You put your legs around his waist and feel a bulge against your crotch.

“Okay love birds, keep it pg. Spider-ling, you’re needed in the lab. Mankiller, good job in there. Frosty and the Star spangled captain needed their 90-year-old asses kicked.” Tony smirks when you and Peter jumped apart, blushing.

/She’s a man
She’s a man
She’s a man killer
She’s a bam bam that’d take you down if you mess with her
But it’s alright
'Cause she’s on my side
She’s a
She’s a man
She’s a man
She’s a man killer
When she’s all mine/

Millard falling in love with a normal

(Author’s Note: request by @cra-zy-mi-nd //sorry i didnt really exactly follow what you wanted cause it was pretty hard but i tried, love//enjoy tho!//)

Your POV

I wonder how my heart took how broken it already is.

I head to the beach. My grandfather had always been so much like me. I put up the bookstore he had always loved to have. I pet every animal I passed by, unless driving. Now, I go to the beach alone.

He always did this because he was thinking. And I think my heart needed a break after he passed away, just to let go from all the strength I’ve been trying to have, and maybe just sit down… and think.

⚫ ⚫ ⚫

The sand kissed my feet as I crouched down my mat. The mat was thin enough for me to feel the slight scratching of nature; as if it needs attention. I lay down, bathing in the calming sun’s light as land breeze approached.

I loved places like this. They seemed to connect me with my grandfather and somehow make me forget about whatever worries I have. They’re not something new, not extraordinary… but they are something altogether.

The shore was beginning to empty as families and couples or maybe people who just wanted to think left and I remained, to talk with my grandfather. I couldn’t help but allow my heart to fall apart all over again.

“Grandpa… I-… know you’re listening.”, I muttered to myself. I almost sounded crazy. But crazy was worth way less than what he meant to me. “I miss you so much.”, I say, my voice wavering a little as I squeezed a tiny tear out of my eye.

The wind blew as if he really was there. I wrapped the mat around me.

“The world seems just so lonelier
Without you in it… and I’ll never, ever forget
How you taught me to
Laugh at the people who
Laughed at me
And made me feel…
So invisible.”, I weeped, my knees and forehead meeting. The wind’s moans chorused with my whimpers.

I felt a presence behind me, instantly assuming it was him, but of course it wasn’t. I turned around to see a very, very white boy, a powdered boy in a hoodie over a shirt and tight jeans he never seemed to have worn before.

Instead of asking who he was, or what he was doing here, I asked, “Why are you powdered?”. He crouched beside me and threw a flat rock through the calming waters as it skidded to a sink.

“So people could see me.”, he said. “Oh… I feel invisible, too, sometimes.”, I shrug, looking at him. The powder on his face was so thin, it revealed a rare face, something that wasn’t of this generation. He had long lashes and messy hair, his eyes were light brown and he had little freckles strewn around his cheeks and across his nose. He sighs after looking back at me.

“Is that why you’re here?”, he asks. I sigh. “Yes. That’s right. How’d you know?”, I ask, throwing a flat rock as well and watching it skip. I wondered how many rocks it would take or how strong I should throw for it to skip as far as the horizon. “I go to places alone to forget that nobody sees me.”, he smiles to himself, blinking away a little powder that fell from his eyelashes. He looked so innocent, so fragile, I couldn’t believe someone would break him.

“You don’t have to powder yourself, though, I can see you enough.”, I say. He looks at me, smiles, looks to the ground and his smile fades away. He had a gentle smile. One that reminded me of my grandfather. “But you don’t know what you’ll see once I wipe this powder away.”, he says and it’s just now I noticed his accent. He was broken. I felt pity.

“See?”, he says, lending me his hands for me to wipe. I hold them, rough. I squeeze them and his breath hitches, like he’s not used to any of these. I wipe a stripe away. Nothing. I blinked twice. Nothing. I wiped more. Nothing. I could see through him. I felt woozy until I saw his face again. “Y-you’re literally invisible, I… h-how?”, I stuttered, clutching his invisible hand. He looked away, ruffled his frost-white hair and peeled something off his eyes. They were contacts. “My friends tried their best to make me feel normal.”, he mutters, burying the contacts under the sand. “I just can’t ever be.”, he continues, exhaling heavily. I saddened. But that didn’t mean I felt this was anything less new.

“You don’t have to change to feel like you belong.”, I say, realizing I didn’t know his name yet. I wipe away powder off his face until I couldn’t see anything. I brushed the powder off his neck and hair and other hand until there was nothing. But it calmed me down. That I saw him as he is. “I’ll make you feel normal enough, I guess. It’s something someone special had let me learn. I’ll do it to you.”, I nod, looking at wherever his eyes may be. I wondered if they really were light brown. But I felt them look back at me intently, like he was mesmerizing the view of me. “Thank you.”, was all he uttered.

⚫ ⚫ ⚫

Days after, we met again and he finally told me his name as I told him mine. He was Millard and he stops by my bookstore at night to see me. I felt like he walked to me with a very slight grin and I was somehow excited to have seen him again.

I flipped the sign and turned down the lights so it was only Millard and I, sitting across each other from high chairs propped behind a marble counter. I settled my chin on my palm, listening to him as he talked so brilliantly about what being peculiar was, how peculiar his friends were, their motherly bird moms and monsters. He mentioned monsters only once and I didn’t bring it up. I could close my eyes and listen to his voice. It was so calming. Gentle.

“Y/N? Are you sleeping?”, he said softly and I laughed and shook my head no. “Oh, I reckoned you were. Closing your pretty eyes and all.”, he chuckled and I was already starting to grow an attachment to him. “Come closer, Mill.”, I say and he leaned in. I placed my hands and cupped his cheeks and felt his nose. Felt his brows and lashes. Felt his ears and hair. Felt his lips. I made our foreheads meet. I feel his breath meet my face. It calmed me down for some reason. I closed my eyes but still felt his open, looking at me.

“Wow, you’re really… really pretty.”, he says and I felt his fingers fiddling. I laugh a little. Millard was probably the only one after my grandfather who had made me feel human, who made me feel visible. I wish I made him feel the same.

I felt his hands this time, parting our foreheads. His breath hitched again like last time. I started sketching the little patterns and creases I felt from his hand to the paper I was scribbling on. My eyes transferred from the paper to my hand feeling his but I felt his eyes burning on me. Blood rushed to my face.

“Look.”, I say, pointing my sketch. “That’s your hand.”, I smiled and he chuckled, looking at the piece of paper. “I think this is right enough. Better even than I could do it.”, he laughs, pocketing the paper. This time, his fingers laced around mine and he slightly squeezed. We stayed silent, just knowing each others’ presence was good enough. I walked around the counter and sat on a chair next to him, so I could lean my head on his shoulder. He felt a little startled at first.

His arm snaked around me, combing and feeling my hair a little, traveling down, outlining my collarbones to my shoulders down my arm. He squeezed my arm and breathed then his hand rested around my waist. I felt his nose and lips meet the top of my head. He sniffed my hair and pecked me. I look at him, searching his eyes. I wanted to kiss him.

So I did and softly, passionately, just enough to take his breath away as much as he took away mine. It was love right away, true love that was pretty scarce.