it's such a beautiful gesture that you know she would have just remembered forever

2

Stay  ~Jeff Atkins x Reader~

There’s something beautiful about the summer- they way it creates a new version of reality where music sounds better and happiness feels sweeter. Parties can give the same kind of feeling where nothing feels real, but all of it feels great. Well, until the next morning.

This makes an end of the summer party the pinnacle of a new reality. Inhibitions run low and everything else is on overdrive. In a week they will all be students again, studying to ensure the best future possible. But for tonight they are 60% alcohol and 40% bad decisions.

“Y/N!” Jess squeals with excitement, running towards the girl who just entered the room. She had been away visiting family abroad for the majority of the summer, and while the beaches had given a whole new meaning to the word ‘paradise’, this was where she was truly happiest.

“Jess!” she returns the enthusiasm, hugging her best friend tightly. The warm breezes that blew in through her window every morning this past summer brought her comfort, but this was home.

“I want in,” Justin grins, approaching the two and enveloping them between his arms.

“God I’ve missed you guys,” she sighs contentedly.

“You have so much third wheeling to catch up on,” Jess teases light heartedly.

Her face twists up unpleasantly at the thought. She loves both Jess and Justin dearly, but she does not love the thought of third wheeling. “With all due respect, I think I’ll pass.”

“Is that Y/N Y/L/N?!” a fourth voice enters the picture, causing the trio to part and turn towards the person walking towards them.

Jeff Atkins. Baseball star and literal ray of sunshine with the face of an angel and the body of a Greek God.

“Hey, Jeff,” she laughs, walking away from Jess and Justin to meet him halfway.

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” Jeff grins warmly, brushing her arm with his hand. It’s a sweet gesture. He’s always been so sweet.

“It’s only been like two months,” she mirrors his grin. It’s impossible not to smile back at someone who radiates warmth the way he does.

“Feels like forever though. Especially since I was used to seeing you everyday at school. You look nice by the way,” he bumps her shoulder.

“I missed you, too,” she chuckles, “I look like I always do.”

“Exactly.”

She bites her lips together before looking down shyly and letting them fall apart into a smile. Jeff Atkins was so genuinely good in a way that was uniquely him.

“Jeff!” Troy yells from the outside patio, “Beer pong, now, c’mon man!”

“Coming!” Jeff yells back to Troy, but turns back to her before walking away. “Come watch us play? You can practice cheering me on for baseball season,” his mouth twists into a smirk.

“Who says I’m gonna come to your baseball games?” She challenges playfully, using quick wit to redeem herself from the shy smile.

“Don’t break my heart, Y/N,” he pouts childishly, walking backward to join the boys for a game of beer pong but not breaking eye contact with her. He finally turns away from her to exit the house and join those outside, but not before mouthing a “pleaasssseeee” and sticking out his bottom lip.

“I’ll be there in a second!” she yells so he can hear her over the music.

His pout transforms into a grin before he disappears through the threshold, indicating that he heard her.

“So how about a double date instead of third wheeling?” Justin and Jess approach her with Justin wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh shut up,” her face heats up at the thought, “He’s a nice guy. He’s friendly with everyone.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t flirt with everyone,” Jess interjects, crossing her arms over her chest vindictively.

“He didn’t ask me to cheer for him,” Justin fakes offense, “Honestly I’m a little hurt.”

“Fuck off, Justin,” she laughs loudly, putting her hands over her face.

“You better get out there,” Justin presses, gesturing to the sliding door, “After all, it’s mine and Jess’s two month anniversary so an intense make-out session could happen at anytime.”

“Bye!” she turns on her heels quickly, running away from her friends before they could make things awkward, or more awkward.

***
Five cups of jungle juice and two games of beer pong later she’s sitting on a folding lawn chair watching Jeff singlehandedly win a third game of beer pong since Troy had wandered off and was bothering Hannah and Clay.

After sinking another shot, Jeff notices where Troy had gone. A brief look of panic flashes across his face before he mutters a quick, “be right back!”, making a beeline for Troy. Jeff was just about as invested in Clay and Hannah as Clay was in Hannah. She wondered just how much better off the world would be if everyone had the same heart as Jeff.

“Did you save the day?” she asks upon Jeff’s return. She’s quite drunk and seeing two of everything, including two Jeffs. How wonderful would that be? A world with two Jeff Atkins. Incredible.

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckles modestly, “It’s up to Clay.”

“Meanwhile that beer run is up to you, buddy” Troy points out, his words slurring together.

“Later man,” Jeff replies, picking up a ping pong ball.

“Because you definitely need more alcohol,” she rolls her eyes at Troy, a sick feeling blossoming in her stomach.

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Y/N,” Troy retorts.

“Hey, relax,” Jeff snaps at Troy, “you’ll get your beer.”

The sick feeling in her stomach intensifies tenfold. She doesn’t want him to go, but she can’t beg him to stay. He’s not drunk, he would never jeopardize his life or anyone else’s so recklessly. But something about it still doesn’t feel right. He shouldn’t go.

She stands up, wobbling slightly. She grabs the back of her lawn chair to steady herself before heading back for the house. The twisting in her stomach is ominous in a way that refuses to be ignored.

“Where’re you going?” Jeff asks, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I need another drink,” she mumbles, brushing past him.

***
Three shots and a game of suck and blow later she’s feeling light and airy. All the anxiety from earlier has been replaced with a tingling feeling that reaches her feet. She’s quite hammered, and all the slip ups in suck and blow have her laughing and her sides aching. She’s starting to get lightheaded.

“I’m gonna go get some air,” she gasps in-between fits of laughter.

“Can you even walk?” Jess giggles.

“I’ll crawl if I have to,” she shrugs, stumbling her way out the door.

***
There’s nothing like the refreshing sensation of cool air hitting your skin after being cooped up in a house full of drunks, especially when you’re drunk yourself. The feeling of a breeze on her face is intoxicating in its own right, so she continues to walk around the outside of the house until she reaches the front.

There’s someone else at the front of the house, too. She can only see their back as they walk towards the row of cars, but she knows who it is. Suddenly she remembers why she felt the need to down three shots of vodka.

“Atkins,” she calls out, stumbling a bit as she walks forward.

He turns around at the sound of his name, smiling when he sees who it is. “Hey, you. Looks like you got that drink you wanted,” he laughs lightheartedly at her shaky balance.

“You making that beer run?” she asks, wringing her hands together nervously.

“Yeah. I’m not even a little buzzed, don’t worry,” he says soothingly.

“Stay,” she says softly.

“Huh?” he tilts his head to the side.

She continues to walk forward until she’s standing right in front of him, her weight falling to the side enough to make her falter. He reaches out to steady her, keeping a firm grasp on her side. She places her hands on his chest to steady herself before locking her eyes on his.

“Stay,” she repeats.

“Y/N, it’s okay I’m completely fine I promise. I only had two beers like two hours ago,” he assures, his voice gentle.

“I know, but it’s not like anybody needs anymore alcohol. I’m one of the more sober ones right now and that says a lot. Honestly I don’t even know how I made it out here on my own,” she sighs, “Just stay, please. ”

He looks at her softly, his eyes studying the worry etched onto her face. She feels so delicate in his grasp, like a porcelain doll that could shatter with too much pressure. He has always been enamored with her.

“Okay,” he moves his hands to hold her face, “I’ll stay.”

She lets out a heavy breath, letting her forehead rest against his chest and wrapping her arms around him. Maybe she was worrying over nothing, maybe she wasn’t, but she’s unexplainably relieved at those words.

“You gotta promise to watch me play baseball though,” he teases.

“I’ll be there every game with a sign that has your name on it,” she laughs, tilting her chin up to look at him.

“You gotta stop looking at me like that,” he shakes his head,“I might just fall in love with you.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.”

“Don’t leave for two months at a time,” he counters, grinning boyishly.

“I’d stay right here forever if I could,” she tightens her arms around him.

“I’d kiss you if you weren’t like 10 drinks deep right now,” he laughs, rubbing her back gingerly.

“Let’s go inside. I need to get sober. Right now. Immediately,” she pulls away, grabbing his hand to tow him behind her. Their laughter echoes down the empty street as they run around to the back of the house.

There’s something beautiful about the end of summer- the way things begin to feel more permanent. A simple request can change so much. All he had to do was stay. And he did.


Masterlist

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I think I love you - Jughead Jones

Pairing : Jughead Jones x Reader

Word count : 1,484

Warnings : none

Requests are closed!

Originally posted by juptern

Your phone rang in the pocket of your jacket making you jump by surprise. You answered the call before showing your index to your friend Archie, meaning that it would only take a minute.

“Hi, this is (y/n) speaking.”

“Hey (y/n), how are you?” You instantly recognised the groggy voice behind the line.

“Jughead! I’m good! What about you?” From the corner of your eye, you would’ve swore you saw Archie rolling his eyes.

“Marvellous. So, what are you up to this evening? I thought we maybe could’ve hung out tonight. You know, me, you, at Pop’s?” You chuckled lightly.

“Sorry Juggie, I was planning on spending the night with Archie… You can tag along if you want? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” A small sigh made its way into your ear. You had to admit that you spent a lot of your recent time with your new red-haired friend. Jughead still occupied the position of best friend. He didn’t have to worry about it.

“I promise we’ll do something together tomorrow, alright?” It was silence for a while before you heard back,

“Yeah sure.” You pursed your lips, mentally cursing yourself. It wasn’t the first time that you had turned down your best of friend for Archie. Lately it had been happening more than before. It made you feel like the worst pal.

“See you.” With that, Jughead hung up. You understood how he felt. It wasn’t right that you weren’t spending as much time with him.

“Jughead, wasn’t it?” You looked up and saw Archie sprawled across the black beanbag in your bedroom. His hands were attached on the new acoustic guitar his dad had got him for his birthday. You nodded and played with the sleeves of you sweater. Your friend continued strumming the strings of his instrument.

“Hey- I wrote this song last week, and I wanted to know what you thought about it. I’ve been trying to talk to Josie about her playing some of my compositions, but she’s not that into it. You’re her friend, right? Maybe you could listen to it and try to talk to her?” He asked questioningly.

“Of course, go ahead.” His fingers moved to the tuners and accorded them as his other hand rested on the waist of the guitar. A few seconds later, a pleasant melody filled the room. Archie then started singing the lyrics he had written. The song wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was quite catchy. The redhead friend of yours had talent. Before Archie could go on, you blurted out something you soon would regret.

“I’ll probably spend the day with him tomorrow.” The small tune that Archie had started suddenly came to an end. Archie hadn’t spoken to Jughead since this summer. The tree of you and Betty we’re supposed to go on a road trip the fourth of July but Archie left you hanging at the last minute. Since then, the boys stopped talking completely. When you mentioned one of  them to the other, you saw the irritation and annoyance in their expression.

“I thought you were coming to my game tomorrow. I’m playing in the varsity football team this year, remember?” You bet your lip and fiddled your hair with your fingers.

“I’m sorry Arch. I haven’t seen Jughead in a while now and I don’t want him to feel like I stopped being his friend. I’m making a vow that I’ll show up to your next game, how about that?”

“Why does it always have to be about him? Everything constantly has to be about Jughead.” Your were caught off guard by the sudden raise in his voice.

“That’s not it… I’m just trying to do what’s best here.”

“By ditching me at the last minute, that’s how your making things better? I didn’t think of you as an inconsiderate and selfish person.” He replied bitterly. In all the time of you guy’s friendship, you had never seen this side of Archie. Usually, he would be sweet and just shrug off any problem that faced his way. But the words he had just told you, they hurt your heart. Your eyes were starting to fill up with tears and your bottom lip started quivering.

“I’ve spent all my time with you for the last month. You. Not Jughead. Why are you treating me like this?”

“You know what? I don’t want to spend any more of my time with you right now.” With that, Archie got up and left you alone in your room. Without even noticing, a trail of tears had made its way down your cheeks. A sob escaped your mouth and your hands covered your face as you poured your heart out. You laid in your bed and continued crying.

It was all your fault. Archie now hated you and would probably never talk to you again. Why did you had to be so stupid? If only you had kept your mouth shut. Maybe he still would have been on that beanbag, singing.

Maybe half an hour later, you heard the wooden creek of your door meaning that someone was coming in. You didn’t even move, your pillow pressed against your face. The mattress shifted to the side from the sudden weight that it now had on it. You felt a piece of your hair being put behind your ear. You smiled at the sweet gesture and assumed it was your mother. You slowly got up and saw Jughead sitting beside you. Automatically, you vaulted in his arms tearing up once again.

“Sssh. It’s going to be okay.” He rubbed your back comfortingly. Your forehead was against his chest, his two upper limbs protectively holding you. Your eyes were probably red from all the crying but you couldn’t care less. You continued sobbing in his chest until you eventually felt calmer.

“Why- Why are you here?” You asked with a small voice. Jughead gently whipped your cheek with his thumb.

“Your mom saw Archie leave in a rush and realized that you two probably had a fight. She heard you crying and thought that you would be more willing to speak about it with me than her.” You grinned at the boy.

“I ruined your shirt.” You noticed, and felt guilty.

“Nothing to worry about (y/n/n). I never liked that jersey anyway.” You giggle with your best friend. You sniffed and observed Jughead who his face was only about a foot away from you. You had to admit that he was good looking. His prefect blue eyes were mesmerising and his pink lips appeared so kissable. Forever you considered the boy as nothing more than a platonic relationship to you. Never had you ever felt anything for him. But in that moment, something clicked. Jughead wasn’t only a friend to you, not even a best friend.  A stronger feeling overwhelmed your body. You felt love. You loved Jughead Jones. 

He was the one who your mother called when you were sad. He was the one who came rushing to your house as soon as your mother hung up. He was the one who was holding you and comforting you, whispering sweet nothing to you as you were crying. He was the one who was there for you.

“Jughead.” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“(y/n)?” You asked yourself in your mind if it was the right time to confess your feelings towards him. Your breathing started quickening as the anxiety rose in your core.

“I think I-” He watched you with intending eyes, indicating to continue your phrase.

“I think I love you.” Jughead eyeballed you, astonished at your revelation. He quietly answered, almost inaudible for you to hear.

“I think I love you too.” He leaned towards you and slowly pressed his lips to yours. Fireworks were going off in your stomach. The heaviness on your shoulders disappeared. In this moment, nothing else mattered in the world. Both of your lips moved in sync as you played with his raven locks. His arms pulled you closer to him, leaving no space between you two. Jughead backed away and kissed every each of your face, including your cheeks, temple and chin.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispered in your ear. You gave him a last long peck on the lips before saying,

“Do you want to lay down and cuddle with me?” He moved his head up and down calmly and took a blanket that was already on the bed to cover you. Cuddling was not something new for the both of you. You had always cuddled together, and whenever. His hand ran through your hair bringing a comforting and fuzzy feeling. His body pressed behind your back and his hot breath was tingling your neck. Before you even knew it, you and Jughead had fallen in a deep slumber, both dreaming about each other.

*gif is not mine!!

where ever we go | draco malfoy

prompt: they have matching tattoo’s but not the ones people think

theme: fluff

warnings: mostly happy

author note: this is a little au where wizards can cast a spell when they meet someone they believe is their soul mates and it will stitch their souls together so they are. the only problem is that once your soul is stitch to another’s, you can’t unstitch it.

Originally posted by daz-zling-bling

That sort of spell was hidden away in the library. Not in the restricted area where it should have been but deep in the shelves. It took him a whole two weeks to find the worn book from too many hands passing it along over stupidity and lust. The reason behind its hiding was for the fact that first and second years, far too young and fickle, would cast the spell and be forever suck. Draco, who was in his fifth year, was not as fickle as a first year. Nor was he young at mind any longer. And he was not in the slightest willing to put the book back. It was enticing and everything he was looking for.

His stiff fingers traced the thin pages, trying to find that spell. The one he isn’t even suppose to know exists. It took him a total of twelve minutes to find it and his face breaks out into a warm smile before memorizing it for later.

He’d sure the smile on his face is scaring people but he doesn’t care, he’s just trying to find you. Because this is something you both need–mostly so he knows you’re safe but still. He wants to do this with you and only you. No one else needs to know, not until you’re older and aren’t seen as children. You don’t understand why he’s so insistent on doing it because you’re going to be fine, he isn’t so sure.

It’s late in the astronomy tower when you both cast the spell. The blinding colors wrapping around themselves and then a burning pain erupted just below your collarbone. Burning perfect black marks into your skin. Identical to the ones burning into him.

This is your beautiful secret, one to cover up all the ugly coming, all the ugly in his life. Something to show each other that no matter what you always had each other and always would. This spell, that bound your souls together, was everlasting.

It didn’t taste like honey and you didn’t see galaxies in Draco’s eyes when your souls wound together. No, it was much more simple, so much more beautiful. His eyes were bleak and his skin translucent and you saw him as him. All of his flaws and imperfections and the terrible things he had done and become. No longer were either of your minds clouded by love–as most people’s were. This love that you now had was untouchable and real and painstakingly valid.

When you were apart–when his own curse took him away and you sided with what was right–you still held to the fact that you’d be reunited. When everything settled down and no one was really asking questions again. He’d come to you. Where ever you went, he was sure to follow. His fingers pressed against his never-fading mark just below his collarbone.

He begs you to leave before the battle and you press your fingers to his cheek and smile, “you know I can’t Draco.”

You’re tired and he’s dying on the inside but neither of you can leave that moment. He can hear the shouts of people he once called friends and barely notices the people running in the halls of his old school. His hand takes yours and presses his harder against his cheek and then brings it to his lips and kisses the palm. Afraid that one of you won’t make it out–he wants to remember the feeling of your skin.

It’s a dreadful walk to the outside, where the two sides stand. You both stand at the back but you know he’s going to leave you and though it hurts you let his hand goes as he does. Fingers lingering before he officially pulls away and when you’re fighting you think that’s the last time you’ll ever see him again.

It isn’t. Despite his family running once the battle began he comes back. Tells his mother he can’t leave and she understands. Let’s him go back–it’s over when he walks into the rubble. Bodies are being moved and Voldemort is dead. He always kisses Harry but refrains and simply asks if he had seen you.

Harry nods and gestures toward the ruins of the castle. Draco nods and heads in that direction. Again, he’s thankful that Harry is Harry and though he won’t say it, Harry had a lot to do with you not being completely caught up in the battle. Nor will Draco know how, he just knows that Harry has his ways.

He sees you at the same time you see him and your bloody and his shirt is a little ruffled and his shoes are scuffed but he’s overwhelmed. You’re alive and in his arms and kissing him–he calms himself and hugs and kisses you back.

It’s three years later and the tattoo on his skin is a faded reminder of darker times. The pitch black tattoo below collarbone is a reminder of the beauty in his life. There’s a skip in his step and a ring in his pocket. A sweet smile on his face and he greets Harry, Hermione, and Ron as he passes them in Diagon Alley. It’s simple, your souls were bound together before you cast that spell.

REQUESTED: “could I request a fic where Credence is in the tub after a bad day & he’s just kinda curled up in the tub all sad & his s/o comes in w flowers & they talk for a bit (s/o tries to comfort him) but Credence is still kinda melancholy and s/o is like ‘fuck that/it’ takes their jacket & shoes and climbs in & giggles & kisses & possibly smut ensues~ thank you & I love this blog"

Warnings: Descriptions of a destructive mindset, but nothing too explicit.

Word Count: 1,508

A/N: This doesn’t have smut because I’ve had like zero energy lately, I’m sorry :// I hope it’s still okay!! :-)


It was easy to forget when he was surrounded by friends and loved ones that much of his life had been pretty horrible, to put it mildly, but now, sitting in the bathtub submerged in hot water, Credence couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with it, like every happy moment was just filler time until he was free to remember. Mostly, he was overwhelmed with thoughts of his Ma, so much so that he couldn’t help but fall completely victim to an onslaught of negative thoughts.

Sitting in this tub for so long, indulging in the warmth of the water and letting himself use frivolously scented soap, well, that certainly must be a sin. He could hear all those times that Mary Lou reprimanded him for standing in the shower for too long, that bodies aren’t meant for relaxing; they’re meant for doing the Lord’s good work.

Credence let himself slip further under the water, fighting tears at the memory of that seemingly forgotten voice, but then, his hair, grown long now that he didn’t have to sit in that creaking chair every Saturday as Mary Lou lopped off chunks of it to keep it from unruliness, began to swirl around his shoulders, sweeping across them and pressing to his neck and face as the strands separated and floated in the water. Credence couldn’t help but lift a hand to them, yanking with more force than he intended, fighting off the bile that rose with the rising awareness of his sin, the vanity he indulged when he looked in the mirror to style his hair and appreciate it afterward, the pride he fostered when his friends and significant other complimented it, the disorder it caused since it was not easily maintained. Perhaps his hair was his greatest sin of all.

But no, his greatest sin must be you. You, whom he loved so dearly and with all of his heart. Premarital sex, sex for pleasure, letting you touch him at all, that was sin. The pleasure he got from it, that was sin. Letting you love him when he was so wicked, that was sin. And of course, the fact that he loved you more than he ever loved the Lord that Mary Lou talked about, preached about, fought about… That was his greatest sin. The thought of what Mary Lou would do if she were here to learn of his wickedness, of the sin he had been allowed to succumb to in her absence was enough to have him shaking, crying, pulling his knees to his chest, and closing his eyes as tightly as he could. He should have known he couldn’t forget. A quick glance to his scarred hands would have made sure of it, even if it had been theoretically possible. Mary Lou had made sure her teachings were a part of him forever. Looking at him now, she would have been proud of her work.

Credence slipped further into the tub, his nose now just above the water, the bath water that was now collecting the tears that had picked up a steady stream down his face, and he couldn’t help but jolt bolt upright when he heard a knock on the bathroom door before it opened.

There you were, his greatest weakness, the reason he lived in sin. Looking at you, closing the door gently, trying to balance a bouquet of assorted flowers in one hand as you did so, an assortment you must have noticed him admiring earlier that week, and not fully facing him yet, he couldn’t help but cry harder because he wouldn’t give up the sin he lived in—he couldn’t, not when he loved you so completely. Did that mean there was no salvation for him? Did that mean he was damned? Had Mary Lou been right all that time?

When a cracked sob came from the tub, you turned as quickly as you could and took Credence in: raven black hair plastered to his neck and face, honey brown eyes made glassy with tears, face slightly swollen from crying, lips parted in a deep frown, breaths coming quickly and causing his chest to look slightly sunken with the force of them. It was a bad day.

You placed the bouquet on the counter by the sink gently before walking over to the tub and sitting gently on the lip of it, gazing down at Credence before cupping his face in your hand. You watched his eyes flutter closed as he released a shaky breath and slipped further under the water. “Do you want to talk about what’s wrong, honey?”

Credence squeezed his eyes shut tighter at the term of endearment, one that he certainly didn’t deserve. “I’m a sinner.” His voiced rasped and cracked slightly from lack of use and from emotion. “She was…right. All that time, I…”

Getting up so that you could kneel by the tub instead and be closer to him, you brought your face near to his so that you could kiss his forehead and push his wet hair from his face. “Mary Lou, if she were really doing the work she said she did, would have acknowledged that we’re all sinners in the eyes of her God, Credence.”

Those beautiful eyes opened slightly so that you could see the color in them, and a tinge of hope too. “I guess… How do you know?”

You smiled gently at him, continuing to stroke your fingers through his hair. “My mother raised me on that Bible too, Credence. It may not mean so much to me anymore, but I remember the teachings. And we’re all sinners to Him. We just have to try our best. And part of trying our best is enjoying ourselves. Loving his other creations. Appreciating the life he gave us. Your mother just left those parts out to fit her own biases.”

His eyes were completely open now, looking at you with unhindered adoration and confliction. “It doesn’t mean much to me…anymore…either. Is that bad? I can… My mother’s voice… Am I wicked?”

You inhaled deeply and scratched lightly at his scalp before answering. “No, Credence. You were taught all the wrong things for a really long time by a really mean woman, and that makes it hard to let go. And there will be bad days like this one, but… You deserve the things you have, Credence. You aren’t wicked.”

He nodded at you and let his eyes fall closed again. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness as you realized he was still…low. You knew you couldn’t fix it, but you hated that he still had to go through this. You also knew you wouldn’t let him go through it alone. When you stood, his eyes opened again at the sound of your movements and widened as you kicked off your shoes and removed your jacket. “Do you mind if I join you, Credence?”

At his slow nod, you began taking off the rest of your clothes, blushing slightly at the pure love in his eyes. You still weren’t used to being loved so completely and reverently, especially by someone you loved just as much. You got in on the other end of the tub so that you could face him and wrapped your legs around his waist so that you could bring yourself closer to him, nearly in his lap. You cradled his face in your hands, stroking your thumbs just under his cheekbones and smiling when he let out a contented breath. “I love you so much, Credence…” You found yourself whispering.

His eyes opened again at that, just looking at you, taking you in. “I don’t know if I…deserve it.”

That hit you like a ton of bricks, right to the chest, and you simply shoved yourself forward in the water, not caring that water sloshed over the side of the tub, and pulling him into a hug, letting out a breathy, half-hearted laugh as your wet bodies slipped against one another.

Credence exhaled sharply too, but a sob followed as he finally moved his hands to clutch desperately at your back. “I love you, Y/N… I’m trying, but I…”

You pressed sloppy kisses to the slope of his neck and said, “Trying is all you can do, and it’s enough, Credence. I’m here on the bad days too. It’s us, remember?”

You pulled away as he nodded, resting your foreheads together and moving one hand to stroke his face again. “It’s us. Even… Even on bad days.”

You smiled broadly at the sound of his voice, more confident than it had been a moment before, despite its constant quiet, and moved back, gesturing for him to lean back against you. You stayed like that, his back pressed to your chest as you stroked patterns across his skin, long after the water had lost its warmth, and he wasn’t all better. Nothing had been fixed, but the more he relaxed against you, the clearer it became that good days would follow.


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The Dashing Florist. CS AU.

So this is my first shot at a one shot - since the word count is 11,579, I guess I didn’t succeed all that well. Sorry! 

Anyway, this fic is gifted to @lenfaz for her birthday, Happy Birthday shipmate, as she mentioned she would like this to happen in her reblog of the original prompt post  I hope you enjoy it Lena. 

Thanks as always to my incredible beta @ilovemesomekillianjones and her continuing encouragement for me to write whatever my crazy muses throw at me. You’re the best!

Also available on AO3 and FFN


The door jingled as it was roughly pulled open, the sweltering heat followed Graham Humbert as he stormed into the office.

“He’s done it again,” an accented voice rang through the space.

“Done what?” a muffled voice called back. Graham followed the sound and found a very pert ass sticking out from under a desk.

“He’s parked his delivery van in one of our bays. August is looking for somewhere to park that doesn’t involve a three-block hike.”

The body under the desk wriggled back a little, then there was a sharp crack, followed by a ‘fuck’, and finally his boss pulled her lithe body from under the furniture.

Emma rubbed her head where it had collided with the desk as she stood. “This is the third time this week,” she grumbled. “And it’s only Tuesday.”

“I know. You have to do something about it, Em. We need our vehicles on hand, not miles away.”

“I know,” Emma agreed on a tired exhale, brushing her hands off on her black skinny jeans. “And I’ve told him this as many times as I can remember. I pay way too much for the privilege of those parking bays and he thinks he can just…” she stopped mid-rant. “You know, I’ve had enough of his shit. Maybe it’s time to do something that will get the message through his thick hair.”

“His what?” Graham asked.

“What?” Emma responded, unclear on what he was asking her.

“You said thick hair.” Maybe she hit her head harder than I thought, he mused.

You know what I mean, Graham. Time to get the message through his thick skull,” Emma exaggerated the word, nodding once in self assurance before she marched for the door.

“Hey, now, Swan. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like what?”

“Like flash him your boobs. Not everyone is pulled toward their magnificence.”

Emma protectively cupped her breasts. “Don’t listen to him girls, there isn’t a man alive able to resist your charms.”

Graham laughed at her as she left.

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S/C Fic - A Moment

All my fics, including this one, can be found at A03, here:http://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSummerBreeze

A little Sunday lovin’. Inspired by…

Originally posted by jamiefraserfan

A Moment

It’s all about the moment. The moment you meet someone. The moment you realize, there’s something more here. The moment you allow yourself to really feel that. To acknowledge its existence. The moment a shy smile across the room is mirrored. The moment he takes his chance, or you take yours. Perhaps it’s over a drink in some pub, and he decides it’s his moment to seize. Or you’re lounging on a sofa together, giggling at the same TV show, and he just looks so damn innocent and so damn beautiful. His smile lingers on the screen longer than necessary and you know he’s thinking something absolutely absurd and juvenile and you know you are going to love every last syllable of it, when he tells you. And maybe you kiss him then, or touch his hand, and he turns to you, the smile dissipating, or perhaps just lowering from his face to his heart and you can practically see his chest swell with love. And you take that moment together.

I can’t quite recall when I decided to just let myself love him. To give over my heart completely. Care or worry, nervousness or fear be damned.

I’d like to think it was one moment. One subtle gesture, like pulling me close to his body, and softly touching my forehead with his lips, hauntingly staying a moment too long, that caused me to tumble over the proverbial edge and into his soul.

But, it was probably more simple than that. Less noticeable. Like driving down the same stretch of highway, day after day, the barren trees passing you by in a flash, as winter holds its grip on the world longer than desired. Then suddenly, on that same drive, that same monotonous routine you do each day, you look out your window, passed the fog of daily life and the never-ending grey road, and the trees are full bloom. Spring has sprung all around you, and you didn’t even notice.

Yes. I think that’s what love is. Seemingly slow moving, until one day, it’s just there.

All these moments, and I cannot pinpoint the one where I knew I was his forever. The moment he made me breakfast in the morning after spending his first night in my bed. In that moment, I knew I wanted to see him there each morning. Not necessarily cooking over my stove, but the idea of that particular fetish was not lost on me. But the moment he shifts his weight in the bed, usually dislodging the cat, who has become an admirer of his presence as well. But he sighs heavily, fighting and welcoming the new day with the same gusto, one never knows what his thoughts on the subject truly are.

The moment, I’ve learned, that his remembers where he is, and with whom he is with. I’ve seen him wake on his own, be it napping at work, or stopping by his flat as a surprise, and he’s drifted off to sleep. He’s different when he wakes with me. Not quite a smile, but a hint of one flashes across his face, as if he’s keeping some dirty little secret. Alone, he wakes with an absence across his face. It’s robotic. He’s trained his body to wake early, and those days, that’s all that is required of it. Never to be quite happy. Just…indifferent, I think.

But that moment he opens his eyes slowly, as if he cannot stand the site of me too quickly. Like looking at the sun, he once said. I’ve been called beautiful most of my life, yet when I hear it from him, it’s like no one has ever uttered the words before, in my presence. It’s as if I’ve been staring at a mirror, looking into myself, but never quite seeing. Until, that is, he places his hands on each side of my head, and leans in to whisper the endearment, a secret just for me, and as I watch his reflection in the mirror, suddenly my own reflection glows, and I can see what he sees. I am more beautiful in his eyes, than in any magazine that has printed my photo dressed in designer clothes and haute couture.

Then, there’s the moment he runs a waking finger down my face, before words are even spoken. Sometimes, that finger remains on my cheek. Sometimes, it rests a moment on my shoulder, before settling back on the bed, before him. Other times, it travels further down my body, dipping below the sheets, to trace my naked body, memorizing the new shape it has taken, like a blind man reading braille. Taking in the knowledge it has to give.

My skin reacts to his touch in a second. Less than. He’s like lightning bolts through my body, every hair, standing on end. The moment he pushes between my thighs, with that wandering digit, is the moment I know of pure and utter bliss. It isn’t the sex, or the making love, or the fucking. It’s the touch. Even though the very idea of his touch, makes my head dizzy, like I’ve been riding some twisting and turning ride at the amusement park.

It’s everything. The smell of his skin, the birds whistling their tune, the creaks of our old house, reminding me we have a home. His sighs of pleasure and excitement. The look across his face.

Sometimes his moments are written across his face. He’s deciding whether to please me solely, or take pleasure himself. He’s an open book, with the words splashed across his face like scripture.

The moment he enters me, I always do my best to keep my eyes open. It isn’t easy. The feeling so intense as his large cock pushes inside my small body. But I try. For what it’s worth, he often closes his eyes. The fight is strong in him as well, to keep them open, but he often fails. Succumbs to the moment, as it washes over his body. His senses.

Our lovemaking is never awkward. Even when it should be. Whether it was the first time, which sent mini explosions tumbling through my body for hours, or the funny sounds our bodies make in the heat of passion. Some moments take us by surprise and we laugh and giggle, like two school children that have planted a stink bomb. And sometimes it passes through us, over us, like a wisp of a feather, floating in the wind.

He tugs gently at my breast, my condition darkening my nipples to an old cabernet. He feeds off my body, drinks from me as if I had nourishment to give. I will, soon enough. It’s a fantasy, he says. For when we have our child, when she is born, he wants to take me in his mouth, soft and gentle, to wipe away the tenderness and ache, I was told I would have.

I long for this as well. For us, when that moment arrives, it will not be about dirtiness or perversion. It will be about love. Just another moment that will pass us by too quickly, so we must take advantage when we can. Another moment to experience something new our bodies have to give to one another.

The moment love turns to passion, and our movements begin to wear on the bed, I grip him tightly, pulling his body down, his hard chest pressing against my belly. He lifts off me slightly, remembering to not push into me too hard, as we both forget, in the moment, there’s someone between us now.

He floods my body, quicker than last night. The morning is always quick. I feel the stickiness coat my thighs as I refuse to let him part from my body. But someone objects, and I can feel the kick through his back. He falls to the side, his eyes aghast, as his hand flies to my belly. It’s the moment he’s finally felt her.

I smile, watching his face display the most beautiful reaction of wonderment and happiness, but there’s a sadness as well. He keeps his hand steady, awaiting another hard drive. But all is still, save our heavy breaths from early morning exertion.

We wait. And the moment is longer than most. He’s resolved to it not happening again, and leans in to my naked belly, kissing me softly, before resting his head atop me, his eyes cast downward to my belly. I curl my fingers in his hair and will our child to respond to her father. It takes another moment or two, and she acquiesces. The kick pushes his head up and he laughs in awe, before settling back down again. I feel a teardrop land on my stomach and my heart warms as moments of our love come splashing at me, like kids in pool.

It is said, if you’re not careful, that you can lose yourself in someone. But it was when I lost myself in him, that I found a different part of me. Something I had only dreamed of, late at night, before sleep takes you, and you imagine the books you read to be real. The men in them - strong, humble, sweet, funny, kind and funny – to be real. It seems he had been the keeper of secrets he didn’t know he possessed. Secrets that unlocked that dreamlike state my consciousness had been in, regarding men. I’ve had my share of bad ones. Ones I thought that were good. But every bone in my body and thought in my head and warmth of my soul, told me, he was real. He was my Peter Pan and I, his Wendy, and we would fly together on this incredible journey of life.

It’s a journey we were not meant to take alone. And in a few short months, a whole lot of brand new moments were going to cross our path. Some unwelcome, some with pomp and circumstance and a giant parade with Sam leading the way.

The earthquakes in my belly stop, and he crawls up my body, his leg crossing over my hip. His eyes close and I feel mine with a great weight as well. I smile, sleep pulling me in, as I know I will recall this moment, until my hair has gone grey and my body cannot hold me upright anymore.

With a clank of a leash, and a sniff of the air, we’re pulled awake, as our intruder reminds us, he needs a moment as well.

ohsotiny  asked:

Hello my lovely Rae! For the writing prompts can I request KakaSaku "It’s not about safety."

I’m not even sure what happened or what I just created. My characters don’t listen to what I want them to do and both of these idiots just kind of fucked off and did their own thing today.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sakura was hard pressed to remember not to add chakra in to her strike as her fist met the solid wooden desk she stood in front off. The beautiful oak cracked under the blow anyway, tiny spider veins skittering away and she knew she would regret it later. It was a nice desk. 

“You know I love you Kakashi but you can be so incredibly dense sometimes! I said give me one good reason why we shouldn’t. All that you’ve given me so far is drivel.” She glared at him as best she could - and she had a pretty damn good glare.

Kakashi didn’t look overly impressed with her display. He hunched a little farther in to himself and raised both elbows on to his desk so he could drop his face in to his hands. He had taken off his official Hokage robes and the hat had been thrown carelessly in to the corner. His headband had been tugged off at the start of their argument so he could run his hands agitatedly through his hair. She could usually tell how upset he was by how messy his hair got. Today it was nearly standing on end and tangled around itself in angry snarls. 

“I never said that I didn’t want to Sakura. All I asked was that you take the time to consider whether it’s really what you want.” He didn’t look up from the desk as he spoke. “Why are we arguing about getting married? Isn’t that supposed to be a happy thing to talk about?” A part of her recognized that when he stopped being able to look at her it was a bad sign and she should back off. Another part of her didn’t care because she was angry. She had never been good at caring when she was angry. It was one of her biggest flaws. 

“Maybe because usually when people talk about it both parties are happy about the idea!” She shouted. “You say you want to marry me but I don’t hear you asking. All I hear is you pushing me away with excuse after excuse!” 

Kakashi sighed and lifted his head to give her a weary look. The tired furrow of his brow did nothing to hide the hurt in his eyes before he looked away again. 

“I’m not trying to push you away. I want to know that you have considered everything that this means, everything that this changes. We both knew going in to this that there are certain downsides to you being in a relationship with me. Marrying me-” When she cut him off his jaw snapped shut and clenched in obvious annoyance. 

“Oh not this again!” Sakura threw her hands up in the air. “Please, please do not drag this old argument out of the closet. I am so tired of hearing ‘I have lots of enemies’ and ‘they might try to use you to get to me’.” She made blah-blah motions with her hands and mocked his tone of voice as she imitated him. “If you spend even one second thinking that I can’t handle myself then you can taste my fist on the training grounds mister. I am perfectly safe-” This time is was him that cut her off.

“It’s not about safety!” He burst out, standing up with a violent jerk that sent his tall chair flying backwards. “It’s about me not deserving you!” 

Sakura stared at him, jaw gaping open. She certainly hadn’t expected that. 

“All I asked was that you take the time to consider whether this was what you wanted, Sakura!” Kakashi gestured wildly with his arms, looking aimlessly off in to space as he shouted. “Because if we get married that’s it! You’re stuck with me! Do you even understand the political fall-out that would hit you if you changed your mind and filed for divorce? Or what if you changed your mind but stayed to avoid that? You would be stuck in this loveless marriage, coming home to me every day and wishing you could escape, growing to hate me more and more every day and I…I couldn’t stand to watch that happen.” 

All the fight seemed to drain out of him as his speech wound down with that final statement. Sakura’s jaw continued to hang open and she could do little more than keep staring for a few minutes. Kakashi’s arms dropped to his sides and he just sort of hung there like a rag doll with its strings cut, staring vacantly at anything but her. 

When she was finally able to move she tiptoed around the desk and reached out to brush her fingers against her lover’s arm. 

“Kakashi…” 

“I love you,” he whispered. “You are so far above me and I thank fate every day for allowing me to have you. I’ve done nothing in my life to deserve the things you give to me. Losing you would hurt me. Watching your love turn to hate would break me.” His voice broke and he took a shaky breath, visibly trying to steady himself. “All I wanted was for you to think about it. To make sure you were…sure.” 

Sakura was sniffling as she took the last step forward to throw her arms around Kakashi’s neck. He hesitated before returning the embrace, drawing her body in close to his and burying his face in her hair. 

“I love you so much,” she said to his chest. “I don’t have to think about it because I am sure.” She felt his muscles tensing and tightened her grip as she hurried to continue. “But if you want me to take a bit more time to consider everything I will. If it will put your mind at ease I don’t mind.” He huffed against her. 

“I can’t lose you like that,” he said. She nodded.

“You won’t.”

If all Kakashi needed was for her to take a little time, she realized, it was a small price to pay for forever. 

No Regrets - Bellamy Blake

Request: Can you do one where you and Bell have been friends for forever and then u guys have a one night stand and agree to pretend it never happened but you realize you have feelings for him and you end up confessing them pleaseeee
Requested by: Anonymous
Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader
A/N: This sounded pretty cool and its like 9:00pm where I am so I was like sure.
Warnings: Lol like you care tho. Kinda smut.

Originally posted by bellamyblake-imagine



Keep reading

My Lady.

Titled: ‘My Lady’ 

Pairing: Gaston x reader

Warnings: ANGST 

A/N: Sorry not sorry about this one…

Word Count: 844 

Tagging@girl-next-door-writes  @captainemwinchester @little-red-83@impalaimagining@sherlocks-timetraveling-assbutt@hobbithorse19@feelmyroarrrr@lefouismylife@redimagines@letowolfie@ciaprincess@speedycatbluebird @haniiix33 @mademoiselle-lanielenawrit@pancake74433 @certainasthesvn@with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli shiroyuki18@ironicallyimnotamouse@ciaprincess@erreneous@gawston@benedictcumberbatchstolemyheart @pureawesomeness001 @ronijdubb@norrihiddleskittycap@oh-snap-its-mildred @afairytaledream 

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Spark // Jung Hoseok

Pairing: Hoseok (BTS) x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff Imagine 

Word Count: 1.8k+

Author’s Note: My tag for Hobi on Tumblr is “snatched alive”, it’s very fitting. Anyway, Congratulations to BTS on winning BBMA’s Top Social Artist! I’m so proud of them. ;-;

Warnings: Drug use. 

“Want a hit?”

You offered looking over at Hoseok. He nodded and took the pipe from you before grabbing the lighter on the ground. You and Hoseok always smoked together. When life got really shitty for either of you it was like your escape. In this case, both of you got shit on by life itself. You watched as he let the smoke settle in his lungs before slowly letting it escape through his lips. Something about watching him smoke was mesmerizing. The way you could see the stress melt off of his shoulders only made you want to stay out here longer. He passed it back to you and you both laid back against blanket on the grass.

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The Suriel - Flower Girl (fanfic)

@fireheart-cursebreaker - As requested and promised. A fan fiction of the Suriel as the Flower Girl at Feyre’s wedding. I had to decide if I wanted to make this funny or serious. And I had to choose if the Suriel would enjoy the experience or loathe Feyre for all eternity because of it. In the end, I tried to stay as true to the Suriel’s character as I possibly could, which led to some very interesting content. And there’s a little twist at the end that I hope you love. Enjoy!

@acourtofrhysandandcassian @nikkgeo12 @zoev1623 @elentiya-white @rhystrashforever 

All rights to the story and characters belong to SJM.          

~

          There was too much bustling about for Its taste. Too many people running to and fro with fabric and flowers, jewelry and crowns, platters laden with honeyed tarts and other disgusting, foul smelling delicacies.
           Blood. Fear. Screams of agony. The pleas of the dying for mercy. That is what the Suriel longed to feast upon. It had been in this damned city far too long. But It had made a promise. And the Suriel never broke Its promises. Whether they were promises of eternal torment, or promises of truth and friendship.
           Friend. That is what Feyre had called It the day she once again trapped It deep in the Illyrian Mountains. It had smelled her coming long before she arrived, and was curious to hear what Feyre-Cursebreaker, Defender of Velaris, High Lady of Night would wish to ask.

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My Girl

Requested by @nunchiwrites <3

Sorry this took forever! :( I had a lot of different ideas on this so I consulted my friend and she chose this one. And then I got writer’s block like nobody’s business. That’s why it took so long.

Also, thank you to @laineylovegirl for helping me write this and actually writing most of it, TBH! <3 You’re amazing!

Genre: X Reader, Vampire AU

Member(s): Chanyeol <3

POV: First person

Warning(s): alcohol, swearing, ummmm…Vampires, Werewolves, fighting, blah blah blah

Summary: You go out with a friend and somehow end up in a predicament. Lucky for you, someone and his friends just so happen to be there. Also lucky for you, someone is a sweetheart and not an asshole.

Originally posted by starricks-moustache

^Vampire Yeollie in action😂


“Sora,” I whined, pouting like a child. “Do I have to go in there?”

She made a face, nodding her head.

“C’mon, Y/N, we already discussed this.” She chided, squeezing my arm. “Remember, this morning?”

I scowled, remembering the conversation she referred to.

“Y/N, you never do anything fun. You should come out with me tonight.” She said, arms crossed as she looked me up and down.  “You’ve stayed up for one full night, what’s the harm in staying up another?”

“Please, no…” I groaned, rubbing at the bags under my eyes. They certainly weren’t Gucci bags. Nope, those were the eye-bags of someone who had stayed up 24 hours studying and was living solely off of coffee and granola bars. How she thought I needed to party and not sleep, I wasn’t sure.

“What were you planning on doing tonight then, hmm? Why not have a good time?”

“Sleeping sounds like a good time to me.”

She scoffed, shaking her head.

“I’m dragging you out with me tonight, whether you’re awake or not.” She retorted, walking out of the kitchen.

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anonymous asked:

How about a DiaMari arranged marriage AU? You could throw in some unrequited Kanan pining if you're in an angsty mood.

Anon this hurts but also this is one of a few guilty pleasures I have…

Fic is in Kanan’s pov! I took a poll on twitter to find out who it is Kanan should be pining after, and the winner was Dia! 

I apologize if this feels more like an angsty KanaDia fic than it does a DiaMari fic but I hope you enjoy it the same! 

Keep reading

Arranged Love Pt.18 | Jungkook

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 14.5 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Epilogue

Summary: When you and Jungkook are forced into an arranged marriage for publicity, you never expected to find yourself falling for him - even if you know it’s wrong.

Word Count: 4,093

Genre: Fluff/angst

A/N: Be warned that this is the second last chapter though I think I might write a small epilogue. :’) Also, if you really want to immerse yourself into these last few chapters, totally listen to Jungkook’s cover of Nothing Like Us and die softly with me. 

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Music Series: First Day Of My Life by Bright Eyes

Another sweet love song. Is my hopeless romantic nature showing again? (tucking in my shirt, looking at my ass) It can’t be helped. I will be a hopeless romantic until the day I die, even if I’m the last living HR left on earth.

As I stew in gloom, waiting for my timezone to begin the angelic Hallelujah chorus, I write. Part Five of For the Love of Harry is in the works, I swear, but not ready as of yet. So to keep my readers content, I thought I would pop out a couple of Music Series stories for you.

Please feel free to message me ideas or prompts and I’ll see what I can do!

I hope you enjoy this story, inspired by “First Day Of My Life” by Bright Eyes. Here is a link to this song via my Spotify playlist called I Love You Long Time: https://open.spotify.com/track/5OiaAaIMYlCZONyDBxqk4G

Thanks for reading! xo

Shelli

p.s. Please remember, this is how I interpret these lyrics into story form. I hope each of you who read will interpret it in your own way. Let your creative juices flow!

*****************

This is the first day of my life. Swear I was born right in the doorway

I went out in the rain, suddenly everything changed.

They’re spreading blankets on the beach

Harry walked into the little cafe he frequented, clutching his journal, phone, and a water bottle, all in the same hand, while replacing the sunglasses from his eyes to the top of his head, where they were perched most of the time. It was a nice day in London that day, and he was taking advantage of it. The sun was shining brightly, he had managed to stay out of camera lenses for the most part, and he was hungry for his favorite meal at his favorite little cafe.

As he greeted the staff he had come to know so well, they escorted him to his favorite table and  brought him a glass of water, a promise of his ‘usual’ already being made. He smiled at them, thanking them graciously, and pulled out his journal and pen, jotting down some notes that had come to mind so he wouldn’t forget them later.

Hyper-aware as he always was, Harry looked around the room, making sure nobody was taking photos. He liked this table because it was not in view of the windows where paps could easily take his photo through the glass. Harry took a deep breath and cased the room, looking at the different people sitting around. The cafe wasn’t busy as it was an odd time of day for a meal, which he planned that way.

His eyes moved from an elderly couple having a late lunch or early dinner, whichever it was, to a small family of a mum and dad and their infant. Harry smiled as the baby giggled at the parents. The dad was trying to hold his phone out far enough to take a good photo with his family but was struggling. He then noticed a woman at the table next to the family stand and offer to take the photo for them.

“May I help?” you ask.

“Yes, please!” the dad said, thankfully. “Afraid I’m not very good at taking them.”


“It’s not a problem, really,” you smile, taking the phone as the parents crowd in near to their child. “Will you show me a smile, sweet love?” you ask the baby, with one of those high-pitched ‘baby voices’ that makes babies giggle. As if on cue, the baby laughs, grabbing its feet, and you take a couple of quick photos, before handing the phone back to the man, accepting their kind words of appreciation. You sit back in your seat at your little table, smiling at them, and go back to looking at your book you had been reading while waiting on your food.

Yours was the first face that I saw. I think I was blind before I met you

I don’t know where I am, I don’t know where I’ve been

But I know where I want to go

Harry sat watching you, barely blinking. He thought you were lovely, not just for your kind gesture to strangers, but because he found you beautiful. The color of your eyes…the way your hair fell around your face…the smile that would shine after your read something embracing in your book. His curiosity peaked like a loud radar being sounded. He suddenly needed to know everything about you. What were you reading? Did you smell as good as you looked like you would smell? Was your skin as soft as it appeared to be from the distance between you?

“Here you go, Harry!” his waitress said, as she placed his lunch in front of him. “Can I get you anything else?”

Suddenly snapping out of his stare at you, he looked at the waitress, confused. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

“Anything else I can get for you?” she repeated.

“Oh,” he said, unbelieving that his plate of food was sitting in front of him. When had she done that? “No…thank you, though,” he answered.

Harry sat for another moment, watching you look at your book, then looking out the window you were sitting near. You smiled at your waiter and shook your head no, that you were fine while waiting on your food to arrive. You glance around the room and notice Harry staring in your direction, and smile softly toward him. You look around at the tables around you, assuming he is looking at someone else, not wanting to make a fool of yourself. But your heart begins to beat a bit faster as you see him stand and walk toward you. You knew who he was. Anyone in their right mind, especially in England, knew who he was. As he stopped in front of you, he smiled the most amazing smile you think you had ever seen, complete with dimples.

“Hi,” you heard him say, nervously. “I’m Harry.” He holds his hand out to you and you shake it gently. You introduce yourself as well as he continues shaking your hand, not releasing it. After an awkward moment of him just staring at you, he clears his throat and turns a slight shade of pink. “Um…I was wondering…if you would care to join me at my table?”

And so I’d thought I’d let you know.

That these things take forever, I especially am slow

But I realized that I need you, And I wondered if I could come home

As you and Harry both finish your lunch, laughing and talking as if you were old friends, you couldn’t help but look at him. He’s so handsome, you thought. And you couldn’t help but notice how he looked at you. He would watch your lips as you talked. He would look you directly in the eyes, like he never wanted to lose his attention to you. He even watched your hands as you moved them about on the table in front of you.

“I don’t want to keep you,” you insist, as he has become quiet once again, saying nothing, only looking at you. “Thank you for keeping me company during lunch.”

“No!” he almost shouted, then quietened again with a smile. “Don’t leave. I mean…” He searched for his words. “Can we…maybe…go somewhere to talk more?” Before you could agree or not, he continued. “Please?”

I remember the time you drove all night, Just to meet me in the morning

And I thought it was strange, you said everything changed

You felt as if you just woke up

Harry’s eyes grew large as he saw you walk up to him as he was leaving his hotel to go to the next appointment on his schedule. You hadn’t seen each other in too long, his work keeping him busy away from London. You had been seeing Harry for a few months now and being away from him was difficult for you both. The video chats just weren’t working well enough for either of you anymore. You had to go to him.

“How?” he asked with tears in his eyes. “You were just home last night! You had to have driven all night long to be here now!”

“That’s about right, yeah,” you smile, hugging him tightly. “Just couldn’t be away from you anymore. Hope you don’t mind,” you giggle. “I miss you.”

“Hope I don’t…” he chuckled, pulling you closer to him. You feel him breathing against your neck, then whisper into his ear. “Thank you. I’m so happy you’re here. Miss you so much.”

And you said, ”This is the first day of my life. I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you

But now I don’t care, I could go anywhere with you, And I’d probably be happy”

“Just can’t believe you came all this way to be with me,” he said, back in his hotel room, caressing your hair and kissing you softly, his body practically swallowing you in his hold. “It means more to me than you could ever know, love. I know its taxing being involved with me, my life.” He kisses you passionately, tasting this sweet creature he has grown to love.

“There’s no place I would rather be than where you are,” you say nervously, knowing although it had been a few months, your relationship still quite new, you were comfortable enough to know he had feelings for you as well.

“But, how did you manage with work?” he asks, still kissing around on you lightly.

“Just took a few, it’s fine,” you insist. “Those sad, puppy dog eyes got to me last night. I knew you wanted me here as much as I wanted to be here with you. Relationships are about making sacrifices for each other, doing things for each other.”

He looks at you lovingly. “You know, that first day in the cafe…was the first time I ever believed in love at first sight,” Harry says, honestly. “Didn’t believe it before…’til I saw you. Would have chased you right out of the restaurant had you turned me down to join me.” You both smile, knowing he would have. “Something changed in me that day. Don’t know how to describe it. Feel like…the rest of my life started that day. Does that make sense?”

You smile with tears building in your eyes, nodding because you couldn’t speak.

“I’ve had this…list of thoughts, characteristics…for what the perfect woman for me would be, you know? Beautiful, inside and out…kind…loving…funny…laugh at m’ jokes,” he smiles as you laugh. “Had convinced myself I was never going to find you, that you didn’t exist and I was going to have to lower my expectations or something.” Harry kisses you softly then looks at, tracing his thumb along your lips. “Thank you for existing.”

So if you wanna be with me. With these things there’s no telling

We just have to wait and see

But I’d rather be working for a paycheck, Than waiting to win the lottery

Besides, maybe this time is different. I mean, I really think you like me

The Way We Are (An Adlock Fanfiction)

In the very rare times that he find himself waking, most of these moments have her scent lingering in the air. 

Sherlock rarely sleeps, as what people who most know him have come to be used to, and yet in memory, the very few times he does is always in requiem of The Woman. And it is so because in her company he can count some of his deepest slumbers, her warmth next to him almost effortless. 

His eyes adjusted to the faint light seeping through the windows, averting to see her peaceful face beside him. The blanket was nothing in comparison to how hot her skin felt against his, the memory of their reunion last night vivid in his memory. 

Staring at the ceiling with an unnerving thought fleeting in his mind, Sherlock started to question what everything meant. He never did, or never thought he would, but there’s something about the idea of being with her, now, that felt surreal. 

He refused to think this was solely to satisfy the tingling of the flesh, for everytime his lips touch hers, it felt foreign to the nothingness beneath those playful and pretentious kisses with Janine. 

“Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

His own voice echoed in his mind, a certain agitation in its tone. For someone who often dismissed the presence of beauty, romance, sentiment, he found himself questioning the mere idea of allowing Irene to unravel him layer by layer. Her very voice touches his mind like an unending dance, eyes pierce through him like a sharp sword, and her wit – oh, that brilliant mind of hers –the entirety of her existence feels more like a drug to him than anything he’s ever taken. 

Her fingers moved and reached for him, trailing a soft touch over his chest. It was a simple thing, something that shouldn’t feel out of place at all, and yet every single millisecond of it immediately stored itself in his mind. 

“You chose her.”

His own words directed to John suddenly emerged out of nowhere, the proximity between him and Irene becoming more and more evident. He remembered the first time her saw her photograph, admiring her for how she was playing her cards, living up to her title as a dominatrix. 

And then he saw more of her many faces, as time flew by, layers of both their strength and vulnerabilities dropping one by one like the pieces of their clothing on a treacherous circumstance.

He looked at her once more, wondering what she might be dreaming of. It was always a puzzle with her, always so dynamic and ever changing, that just when he thinks he discovered something new, she never ceases to amaze him. 

Rolling carefully to his side, he turned to face her, John’s words running through his mind. 

“Do something while there’s still a chance, because that chance doesn’t last forever.” 

But what is something? He doesn’t even know what this is.

And as if she heard him, Irene’s eyes slowly fluttered open, her dreamy gaze falling on his. She smiled softly, not the smirk that was familiar to others, but a soft and warm smile she often showed only to him – or so he thinks. 

She reached for his cheek, brushing it gently with her thumb. 

“Your thoughts are so loud it woke me up.” she teased. 

Sherlock looked at her curiously, wondering what she meant. He found it absurd for a moment that his mind actually crossed the idea of her hearing his thoughts. 

There might be a change in his expression because she gave a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly as she did. “I was joking, but judging by the look on your face, you’re actually thinking about something. Did I interrupt?”

He shook his head in reply. “I – Can I ask you something?”

Irene propped her head on her arm, gesturing with her head that he can indeed ask, and he hated to admit how smitten he is at her bareness. 

“Have you ever been with anyone? Like the way John or other people like to do things.” he blurted, almost biting his tongue at the malice in his voice. 

It was evident that Irene found the question quite curious, knowing that he was pertaining to emotions or romance, and she gave the most straightforward answer. 

“Yes. Twice, actually. But it was a long time ago.”

Sherlock waited for her to continue but she didn’t. He saw in her eyes that it was all she was going to say about the matter, so he simply turned to lie on his back once more, eyes averting from her. 

“If you want to say or ask something, I wouldn’t mind.” she breathed, fingers twirling strands of his hair. 

“No, that’s all.” he simply replied, his chest starting to feel hollow that he was fighting the urge to vomit. 

“Would you like me to leave?” Irene mused, her words stinging his ears even if there was nothing different in her tone. 

When he didn’t reply, she stood up and started to gather her clothes on the floor. 

Cussing himself, he rose and reached for her arm, holding her firmly. “Just… stay.”

“Why?” Irene asked. 

“Because I don’t understand.” Sherlock admitted, his voice constricted. 

It surprises him how she seems to comprehend even his most cut-off expressions and statements, like his mind was telling hers the next part of the sentence even before he could finish it. 

Irene sat back on the bed, raising Sherlock’s head for their eyes to meet. “Look at me. What do you see?”

Hiding his surprise, the detective studied her and wondered where she was going with the conversation. And he did look – seeing the natural flush on her cheeks, her steady gaze, her parted lips, how her hair fell on her bare shoulders, the line of her collarbone, the curve of her breasts, the flecks just above her navel – and yet, beyond it he couldn’t read her, which frustrated and fascinated him at the same time. 

“Well?” Irene asked again. 

“I still can’t figure you out.” Sherlock muttered, to which Irene laughed. 

“You haven’t changed. You still don’t know where to look.” she quipped, making him more confused than he already was. 

Sherlock sat to face her completely, sighing. “And you still love playing games.”

Irene’s eyebrows rose. “Games? This one was easy. You’re just over-complicating things.”

“Over-com – I don’t understand.” he replied. 

Irene rolled her eyes. “Why did you ask me to come?” 

He looked at her incredulously. “You know why.”

“No, I need you to say it.” Irene demanded. 

Sherlock shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And so are you.” she spat back. 

“Yes, and so is this!” Sherlock suddenly hissed. 

Irene was taken aback by what he said, her eyes suddenly blazing. “Yes, I guess it is.”

She stood once more, hastily reaching for her belongings. But before she could even reach the door, Sherlock grabbed her by the shoulders, and without a second to lose, his lips crushed to hers. 

His hands trailed to her shoulders, to her arms, to her body, fingers masterfully stroking her body like the familiarity of his violin. 

“I don’t know what to say or what to think.” he breathed against her lips, his forehead touching hers. 

Irene’s hands trailed his waist, sending a chill down his spine, and her body felt closer and closer to him, lips still touching. 

“I don’t, too. But isn’t this one of those times when we go with ‘actions speak louder than words’?” 

He felt her lips taste his once more, their kiss getting deeper and deeper. She curved against his touch, fingers twirling over his hair, both of them almost moulding to each other. 

“Why did you ask me to come?” Irene whispered with a smile. 

“Why did you come?” Sherlock replied, finally understanding. 

For when Irene asked him to look, as usual he looked closely and not see the big picture. But at the sign of her leaving, it clicked on a whim, and with her and him at this moment, he realised that questions that lie beneath are what and who they are. 

Did it matter? No. 

Because him asking for her presence, and her submitting to his yearning was the only conclusion that can explain them.

Christmas Magic ~ Fred Weasley imagine

 I was hoping you’d do a Fred Weasley Imagine? It’s Christmas and we’re at Headquarters. He and I have been dating for awhile. When Molly calls everyone down from Harry and Ron’s bedroom Fred and I are the last to dinner. Somehow Fred catches me under a mistletoe (or something special like it) and after we kiss he asks me to marry him (it’s our last year). I say yes to him and we go into the kitchen. Tonks(my aunt) notices the ring and asks about it. After Fred tells everyone the news all the girls surround me and start talking about wedding plans. Meanwhile George pulls Fred to the side. He, jokingly, asks “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Freddie?”. Fred looks at me and just smiles, saying “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

~Christmas Magic~

The Burrow was beautifully decorated with Christmas flair. A large tree in the corner of the living room was covered in shiny tinsel and ornaments, a few gingerbread houses here and there, stockings hung by the fireplace, and everyone there had a big smile on their face. 

Your boyfriend, Fred Weasley, had invited you to spend Christmas with him at the Burrow, and you happily agreed. Every time you visited the Burrow, the Weasleys always made you feel welcome. 

This Christmas, everyone was buzzing around, trying to get Christmas dinner finished. You were upstairs with Hermione and Ginny, simply chatting about the holidays. You always asked how their classes were and how much you would miss them once you leave, since this is your last year at Hogwarts. Then they would say that they’d see you a bunch after considering that you were dating Fred. 

Mrs. Weasley walked into the room you were in and gave you a smile. “Could you girls tell everyone that dinner is ready?” She asked sweetly. You nodded and so did Hermione and Ginny. You walked around upstairs, telling Harry and Ron to get going downstairs. 

Finally, you had gathered everyone and they all began making their way to the dining room. You were the last one down, and once you made it to the bottom of the staircase, Fred magically appeared in front of you. You jumped back in surprise, almost falling over. “Fred Weasley! Don’t do that again!” You said, letting out a laugh. Fred smirked.

“Hello, (Y/N). Enjoying the Christmas so far?” Fred asked, giving you a peck on the lips.

“I am. But we better get going for dinner” You said with a smile. 

“Not yet” He grinned. He gestured you to look above you, so you did, and you noticed that a mistletoe hung above you two. You chuckled and looked back at Fred. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to him, pressing his lips against yours. You kissed him back, a smile sneaking its way into the kiss.

Finally, you both pulled away, breathless. Fred smiled as if he had something on his mind. 

“What?” You asked, smiling also. 

“I have something to tell you, (Y/N)” Fred said.

“Okay”

Fred took in a deep breath. “(Y/N), these four years we’ve been dating have been the most fun and wonderful years of my life. I still remember how we met: I was trying to prank one of the teachers, but you ended up being the victim instead, and we had gone through that whole week pranking each other back and forth”  Fred said, pausing to laugh a little. 

“But I want those years to last forever. (Y/N), I love you. So, I have a very important question to ask" 

Fred got down on one knee and pulled out a small, blue velvet box. When he opened it, inside sat a beautiful, diamond ring. Your eyes became wide and your hands flew over to cover your mouth. ”(Y/N), will you marry me? And put up with my stupid shenanigans forever?“ 

You let out a laugh, a tear falling down your cheek. You couldn’t find the words to say yes, so you nodded, more tears running down your face. Fred smiled and slid the ring onto your ring finger. He stood back upp and you leaped into his arms, crying tears of happiness into his shoulder. You looked back up to him and he wiped away the remaining tears on your face before kissing you again. 

"Come on, they’re waiting for us” Fred said, taking your hand in his. You both made your way into the dining room and sat down at the table, a smile still glued onto your face. 

“Finally! What took you two so long? I’m starving!” Ron said, looking at the feast that sat in front of him. You looked over at Fred and smiled. “Alright everyone! Dig in! Merry Christmas!” Mrs. Weasley announced. You helped yourself to the food in front of you, and then your aunt Tonks noticed the ring on your left hand. Her eyes widened. “Fred?! Did you do what I think you did?” She said louder than intended. Everyone turned their attention to you and Fred. 

He looked over at you and gave you a nod that said “Show them”. You put your hand up and showed everyone the ring. “Fred! You proposed!” Mrs. Weasley said in awe. 

Suddenly, all the girls ran over to you, and had already began to discuss wedding plans. “Freddie!” George called out from the other side of the room. Fred walked over to George.

“Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” George said jokingly. Fred looked over at you and grinned. “I know exactly what I’m getting myself into”.

~END~

Thank you for requesting!

emetoandotherthings  asked:

Could you do something where Finn or Zak gets sick for the first time in front of the other??

Ehh so this didn’t want to be written, but it happened eventually… this is like, the first time one of them gets sick once they’re actually together, they’ve been together for about two months at this point. Thank you for asking, I hope you enjoy!!

“I am sooooo glad that’s done!” Orlaith exclaimed, throwing her blazer down on the grass and twirling with her arms spread wide. “This summer is going to be so awesome!”

She turned, flinging her arms around Darragh’s neck. He hoisted her up, spinning her round til she was giddy and giggling. Rolling his eyes, Finn threw himself down on a nearby bench, tugging Zak with him. His boyfriend - he still couldn’t quite believe he got to call him that - sat beside him carefully, one knee bouncing rapidly.

“How did you find it?” Finn asked quietly as Séamus and Bridie wandered over to sit on the grass beside them. They’d just finished their English Language exam (the last exam of the year and, in fact, the last exam of their high school experience), and Finn knew it had been a major source of stress for Zak over the past few months. When he’d arrived at school that morning, Zak had been all pale and pinched with worry, fiddling anxiously with his pen and barely saying a word as they queued up to get their seat numbers.
A few feet away, Orlaith and Darragh were still intertwined. Zak shrugged lamely, chewing his lip. Bumping his shoulder gently against the smaller boy, Finn gave his hand a quick squeeze. “You’ll be alright babe, your grades have been improving so much.”

Zak sighed heavily. He wasn’t so certain. He’d struggled through the exam, but when he reread his work even he wasn’t sure what he’d been trying to say.

“Here’s hoping,” he murmured, bumping his shoulder back against Finn’s with a small smile.

“Oi lovebirds,” Bridie hollered at the couple still chasing each other round the field, “get a room!”

Finn and Séamus chuckled as Orlaith skipped over dragging a sheepish Darragh behind her and even Zak cracked a grin when she manhandled Darragh into exactly the right position for her to sprawl all over.

“We need to make plans!” She enthused. “We’ve got a whole two months, we can’t let it go to waste.”

Darragh ruffled her hair. “Well there’s prom next week…”

“Oh yes,” Bridie nodded with mock seriousness, “prom. Most important event of our school careers. Where you two will get the prize for the most nauseating couple!”

Orlaith pulled her tongue at her. “You wish you were us.”

Séamus leaned back on his elbows. “I don’t know about you but I’d like to go camping sometime?”

Orlaith’s eyes lit up. ‘Ooooh yes that’s a great idea! And we can roast marshmallows and drink cheap alcohol and all that malarkey.”

“Speaking of!” Darragh reached into his bag, pulling out a box of beers. “I thought we could do with a little celebration now that high school is officially behind us.” He handed out the beers, and Finn uncapped his with his back teeth, spitting the lid out to the side.

“Euurgh Finn, that’s grim.” Bridie pulled a face, and Finn grinned mischievously.

“I’d quite like to learn to sail this summer,” Bridie announced, “so if anyone would like to join me that might be fun.”

“Ah yes,” Séamus nodded. “Regular little Swallows and Amazons us…”

Bridie pushed him playfully and they started bickering about the merits of knowing how to sail; Séamus maintained that it was a skill he would never need.

“Zak, are you alright love?” Orlaith said suddenly, looking across in concern.

Zak had one leg pulled up on the bench, and his arms wrapped around his torso as he rested his head on his knee. He seemed not to register the question until Finn put a hand on his shoulder at which point he flinched in surprise and looked up at Orlaith.

“Yeah I’m fine.” He shook himself a little. “Just a bit cold is all.”

Orlaith raised an eyebrow in confusion. In just a skirt and short sleeves she was feeling totally comfortable - in fact, if it wasn’t for the light breeze in the air she might have said it was too warm. Finn shared the same look, frowning a little as he looked down at his boyfriend. Zak seemed to clock their disbelief, as a minute later he shrugged halfheartedly.

“Think it’s the stress more than anything.”

“Oh you poor thing! Here,” Finn rummaged in his backpack, pulling out a hoodie and placing it firmly in Zak’s hands, “take this.”

Across the circle, Bridie giggled. “Oh my God, so much PDA, sooo much PDA,” she shrieked, only shutting up when Séamus kicked her hard in the shin.

Zak unfolded the fabric and Finn saw that his hands were, in fact, shaking slightly as he did so.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you getting cold because of me…” Looking up at Finn, Zak trailed off uncertainly. Nerves had left him feeling lousy and all he really wanted to do was curl up and sleep, but at the same time he felt like if he didn’t spend this time with his friends he’d probably regret it.

Emphatically, Finn shook his head. “You have it, I promise I’ll be ok.” Surprised to find his boyfriend unusually lethargic, he helped Zak pull the hoodie over his head. The smaller boy looked tiny, the grey material swamping his frame, sleeves hanging over his hands like soft grey paws; Finn felt a tight knot of worry forming in his stomach as he looked at him. The poor thing looked exhausted. Fragile, and exhausted.

Working hard to keep his tone light, he ruffled Zak’s hair gently (ignoring Bridie’s faux vomiting sounds in the background). “Come on babe, coory into me. Let’s see if we can’t get you a bit warmer.”

Zak leaned in and Finn wrapped an arm securely around him as he pulled his knees up into Finn’s lap. Bridie giggled again, and Orlaith shot her a dark look.

“Give over Bri, it’s one thing to take the mick of Darragh and me but leave Finn alone.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Bridie sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to stifle her laughter. “It’s just, like, Finn used to be so damn moody all the time and now he’s all soft and squishy, it’s kinda surreal.”

Finn rolled his eyes, cutting in before Orlaith could leap to his defence again. “Ah well Bri, we can’t all be bitter and single like you forever hun,” he chuckled good-naturedly, and the whole circle laughed.

“It’s such a shame though!” Bridie shot back. “We miss you at the Lonely Hearts Club. Come back to us.” She reached out imploringly.

“Para solo siempre,” Séamus added quietly.

Darragh sniggered. “Only damn thing I remember from two years of Spanish.”

“Oh really?” Séamus retorted. “I’m surprised. I was sure ‘te quiero’ was in your vocabulary too.”

Bridie dissolved.

Finn smiled softly. It was a beautiful evening and his friends…his friends were the best, and his boyfriend was a warm sleepy weight against his chest; it was one of those moments you want to last forever. Sipping slowly at his beer, he listened to the comfortable chatter. He was determined that this summer would be good, regardless of what his family thought of him.

Orlaith came to perch next to them, and Finn realised with a start that he must have zoned out. Zak shifted against him when he flinched, and he hushed him quietly, rubbing Zak’s arm gently as his boyfriend settled himself again with his head resting against Finn’s sternum. Orlaith drew her knees up to her chest, leaning her head on Finn’s other shoulder, a gesture of familiarity that most people wouldn’t have dared try.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“S’okay,” Finn murmured, careful to keep his voice low so as not to wake the boy sleeping in his arms. Looking around, he saw the rest of the group packing their stuff up. “We calling it a night?”

Orlaith hummed in the negative. “We actually thought we’d make a night of it - they’re going to fetch some tents and stuff now - but I thought maybe you’d want to be getting Zak home. It looks like that exam really took it out of him.”

Finn gazed down fondly at the mop of curls just beneath his chin. “I think he’s feeling a little under the weather to be honest,” he mused, “I’ll let him decide when he wakes up, he might be more lively after a little sleep.”

They watched watched quietly as Darragh, Bridie, and Séamus walked away, their shadows growing longer as their figures got smaller. They were still messing around, laughing and pushing each other, and for a moment he wondered what it must be like to be easy in that way. When the trio had disappeared into the distance, Orlaith nudged him gently.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?”

The question took him by surprise. “I…” Finn stopped short. For a moment he considered telling her that nothing was going on, that everything was fine, just like he’d been telling himself for the last two month. “I…,” he stammered, desperately trying to find the words to express how he was feeling - or to stuff it all back in its box, he wasn’t even sure which at this point.

“It’s ok Finn. You don’t have to talk if you don’t feel like it. It was just a question.” She sat up straight, looking at him earnestly.

“I just,” he began again, and this time it was like his mouth was moving all by itself. “I’m so scared, O.” He looked at her wide-eyed. “I want this to work out, so badly. I need it to work out. But there’s so much crap getting in the way. Like, what if one of my dad’s friends is out walking their dog and sees us like this?” He gestured with his free hand at the way Zak was cuddled into him. “What if I accidentally leave Facebook logged in on the computer and my mum sees my messages? Or if someone at school works it out and says something to their parents about how the deacon’s son is batting for the other team these days? I’d never see him again!” He swallowed, his throat tight. “They’d send me away to some Catholic boarding school somewhere for college, it would be awful.”

Orlaith threaded her fingers through his comfortingly. “Finn, there will always be what ifs. Even if your dad was completely accepting of you - which he should be, because you’re a wonderful person and even if he can’t come to terms with who you are, he should know better than anyone that Jesus preached forgiveness and love - even then, there are always things to get in the way of relationships. You have to decide if Zak is worth the risk.”

Finn shook his head frustratedly. “But it’s not just that, it’s…it’s me. I look at you and Darragh and the way you are together, and I can’t give him that yet. I don’t know if I ever can. And I want to, because God knows he deserves it, he deserves the world, and I know that’s what he’s hoping for, and what if what I can give him just isn’t enough?” He swiped angrily at his eyes, willing the ache in his chest to go away.

Orlaith pulled him into an awkward half-hug, careful not to jostle Zak who had remained asleep through Finn’s emotional outburst. “Oh Finn,” she murmured sadly, “you never do give yourself enough credit. When you look at Zak, you remind me of Ruairi, and he gives away his love more freely than anyone I know. And Bridie’s right, you’re softer around him, gentler. You don’t have to worry that you’re not able to give him the love he deserves Finn, really, whatever your dickhead of a father may have to say on the matter. On the subject of your dad, Darragh was seriously not kidding when he offered you his guest bedroom, if you ever feel you need it that offer will be there. And even if you’re not ready to be fully invested in this relationship, although I think you already are, Zak has the patience of a saint love, you know that. And he loves you, and he’ll wait for you.” She offered him a small smile, and he smiled back. He’d mostly regained his composure now, and was moving swiftly into feeling embarrassed.

“And anyway,” she continued cheekily, “Darragh and I aren’t exactly the poster couple for perfect relationships. We’re like, unhealthily codependent and overinvolved, and I wish he could articulate himself half as well as you do!”

Finn grinned. However much the humiliation might be burning in the pit of his stomach, he felt like a weight had been lifted now that he’d got some of what he was feeling off his chest. He’d been bottling it up for a while now, and he was just glad that the cork had blown in front of Orlaith instead of someone who might be a tad less sympathetic - like his dad, or Bridie, or even Darragh.

Zak stirred again, moaning softly. Orlaith crouched down next to them as his eyes fluttered reluctantly open, well aware that Finn had no way of seeing his face.

“How are you feeling love?” She asked gently, as Finn ran his fingers through Zak’s hair.

Zak moaned again. “Ill,” he mumbled, pushing himself up off Finn’s lap slowly. He swayed slightly once he was sat up, and Finn steadied his shoulders worriedly as he lowered his head down so that it was resting on his arms, almost between his knees.

“Zak babe, what’s wrong?” Zak’s face, although it had been pale before, was now looking thoroughly drained, so wan it nearly matched the tone of the hoodie he was wearing. Finn looked at Orlaith with alarm when Zak didn’t respond. The boy was breathing raggedly, and every now and then that was punctuated with a heavy swallow.

“Zak, are you feeling sick?” Orlaith ventured, and Finn’s heart fell when Zak nodded minutely. “Ok love, that’s alright. I’m going to get you some water and a bag, and Finn will look after you while I do that ok? You’re going to be alright.” She padded off to find Darragh’s schoolbag, where there would almost certainly be a bottle of water and his somewhat endless supply of sick bags.

Finn put his hand tentatively on his boyfriend’s back. Zak moaned at the touch, reaching out to grasp Finn’s other hand. Finn could feel his back hitching slightly, although whether the other boy was suppressing sobs or heaves Finn couldn’t quite tell. “You’re alright Zaki,” he murmured consolingly, although his heart was pounding nervously in his chest, “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Zak belched softly, whimpering as his stomach churned harder. “Oh God, Finn…,” he ground out desperately. Rubbing his back slowly, Finn squeezed his hand. “It’s ok babe, let it out if you have to.”

Orlaith returned, crouching back down to Zak’s eye level. His stomach gurgled audibly and he burped again, making Finn wince, but Orlaith just stroked a finger down his cheek. She set the bottle of water down on the bench, and opened up on of the plastic bags she’d grabbed from Darragh’s stash. “Oh love, you must be feeling wretched,” she cooed, shooting Finn a concerned glance. She held out the bag to Zak. “Take a hold of this for me? That’s it. Now just try and breathe, you’re absolutely safe here. We got you.”

He took the bag in his trembly fingers and held it under his mouth. Finn rubbed his back some more, and another gurgling belch erupted from his mouth, this time louder and thicker than before. It sounded so sick that Finn’s own stomach did a little flip, and he pressed his lips together. Zak belched again, and suddenly his cheeks were puffing out as he twitched forwards. It could almost have been mistaken for a hiccup if it hadn’t been for the splatter of liquid as a mouthful of vomit hit the bag. Finn felt the gorge rising in his own throat and he swallowed firmly as Zak heaved, another thin stream of sick squelching in his throat before it spattered forcefully into the bag. Zak retched again, bringing up a larger amount of puke, a thick sludge that Finn recognised as Zak’s pre-exam banana. It was almost too much for Finn, who could feel the beer he’d just drunk bubbling angrily in his stomach. He turned his face away, still rubbing Zak’s back mechanically as the boy burped harshly.

“Finn, go take a walk.” Orlaith said sympathetically, looking up from where she was still crouched next to Zak. She’d taken the bag from him soon after he’d started being sick, Finn realised, and was now holding it for him. The thought alone made Finn’s tummy feel twisty. He shook his head.

“He’s my boyfriend,” he said determinedly, “I want to be here for him.”

He took a deep breath, turning back to Zak, who was panting heavily. Every few seconds his chest would lurch and there would be a strained, empty heave, and nothing would come up. “Babe I think you’re done.” Finn said softly, crouching down to look Zak in the eye, rubbing his thumb along his shoulder.

Zak shook his head, heaving weakly. “Still feel sick,” he forced out.

Finn tutted, drying Zak’s eyes on his shirt sleeve. “I know Zaki, but there’s nothing coming up babe.” He murmured, swallowing again as the puke sloshed slightly in the bag. “I need you to calm down a bit so I can get you home, can you do that?”

Zak nodded tearfully, and Finn pulled up to embrace him gently. “Orlaith’s going to sit with you a sec while I work out how best to get you home, ok babe?” Zak nodded again, and Finn pulled away.

He paced quickly away until he was hidden from view by a copse of trees, his heart pounding. A cold sweat had broken out along his hairline some time ago, and he leaned against a tree, trying to pull himself together. He hated how squeamish he got. His stomach was churning violently, and he couldn’t stop remembering the way Zak’s back had heaved as his stomach forced its way out of him, or the sickening splatter of liquid hitting plastic. Liquid pooled in his mouth, and then he was doubling over, retching up a wave of frothy white liquid onto the grass. He heaved a couple more times, and then spat disgustedly, wiping his mouth clean on his sleeve. Feeling slightly shaky, he made his way back to where the others were sitting. Wordlessly, Orlaith handed him the bottle of water, and he took a swig while he waited for his hands to stop shaking. Thankfully, the bag of vomit was no longer anywhere to be seen. Then, he crouched back down next to Zak.

“Alright babe, let’s get you home and into bed shall we?”

upon my skin (4/?)

Killian Jones thought it would be easy; get captured and sent to her harem, seduce the queen, and escape with her treasure while she was still recovering from his charms. It was simple. Unfortunately, Emma Swan is anything but simple.

explicit (teen this part) | AU and sadly no banging yet

On AO3 and FF.NET if those are your preference(which I strongly suggest as tumblr hates fic).

I’m back, hopefully! So sorry for the magnificent delay, I’ve had a rough year with my RL and computer issues, but I’m trying to ease back into writing and more :)

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Keep reading

Tomatoes by Shane Koyczan

People always ask me,

“How do you memorize all of that?”

And the truth is, the first girl I ever kissed tasted like tomatoes.

I know this because the second girl I ever kissed tasted like pepper.

It wasn’t unpleasant…

I was just expecting tomatoes.

When I was a kid I was fascinated by space

And I learned that time slows near a black hole

Inside a black hole time stops altogether.

Whether or not this theory will ever be proved,

I’m moved to believe that this would be the perfect place to love someone.

In grade 4 my gym teacher gave me the nickname “half-ton”. It was a name that stuck.

I remember it because it was the first time I ever told someone “Go fuck yourself!”

And meant it.

He quit calling me the name after he called my house trying to get me in trouble for what i’d said,

To which my grandmother replied…

“Mr. Shithead, I told him to say it.”

I remember my grandfather’s blue tool kit where he hid a secret stash of raisins.

I recall thinking, “My granddad has the worst taste in candy.”

But he did teach me how to tie a tie.

My first opportunity to apply this knowledge was my first date,

A seventh grade classmate,

Who showed up wearing acid washed jeans and a Def Leppard tshirt.

I wore a suit and tie.

When she asked why I was all dressed up I had to think quickly, so I told her,

“My other clothes smell funny.”

I’m not saying it ended badly, but she wound up leaving me for a boy who could make farting noises with his armpit.

I’m forced to admit he was pretty cool.

My fourth grade teacher had a rule about speaking out of turn

Failure to learn and practice this lesson would result in having to sit outside.

I know this because I tried it once.

When she finally came out to check on me, she asked

“What was so important that it couldn’t wait?”

Knowing that it’s rude to point, but needing to illustrate my position,

I gestured to her chest and said

“Your boob is hanging out.”

She quickly covered up and corrected me.

“Breast.”

She was a good teacher.

When I was twelve, I was given an academic diagnostics test. Later the instructor informed me I had an aptitude for history.

He looked puzzled when I replied,

“Yeah, but that was yesterday. Today, I’m more interested in tomorrow.”

I remember it because the next day I asked a girl if I could borrow a pen.

When I offered it back she said

“You should write me a letter with it first.”

So I did.

I wrote her a note which the teacher then intercepted and read to the class.

It was something we’d learned in science that day

About the way gravity affects mass and weight

In relation to how quickly something will fall.

Example:

A crumpled ball of paper will fall at the same speed as a boulder of granite.

It doesn’t matter how much something weighs, it stays the same until you consider surface area and resistance, at which point the persistence of gravity loses force.

Example:

Crumple a piece of paper into a ball

It will fall faster than a loose sheet.

They are both composed of the same mass and weight so you’d think that the rate of velocity measured with the force of gravity would cause each to fall at the same speed.

But that’s when you need to consider that the greater surface area of the loose sheet adds resistance

So the crumpled ball will fall quickly but the loose sheet will slowly float.

I wrote a note

Explaining that when two people are falling for each other, they do so at the same speed.

There’s no need to factor in the physics explanations

Or something we can make no use of.

Einstein said:

“Gravity won’t be held responsible for people falling in love.”

I wrote her a note

Telling her:

“If I fall in love with you,

No one will ever be able to explain it.

And I think that’s beautiful.”

Despite the class laughing, she did as well,

Which is how I can tell you that I then knew and now still know

She tasted like tomatoes.

I don’t remember the way every song goes

I can’t recall every person I’ve met

I get names mixed up all the time

I’m terrible with birthdays

But I remember all the ways people have affected me,

How our stories became memories

And if you were brazen enough to make one with me

Then you’re in there somewhere.

Maybe it was a truth or dare kiss

Or a simple act of kindness

One that reminded me to remember this moment and mark it as a memory, so we would both have it to look back on.

From this life, I’ve drawn conclusions so big they can’t fit into the tiny comic book boxes

Because I don’t want to risk losing the detail

Just so I can make the story fit.

It’s not a trick.

I remember how things felt

Which in turn makes me remember how things happened.

Like my first attempt at skateboarding, where I received a down to the bone skinned knee.

I remember a tree that looked like a man with huge arms to hold up the sky.

I used to try to climb it to the very top

Until one day I couldn’t get down.

I remember the man with the brown car.

Tried to convince me he was sent to pick me up by my mom.

Number one, I lived with my grandparents.

Number two, he didn’t know the safety word.

I recall when it finally occurred to me,

I’m pretty fantastic.

It’s not magic, I remember because I make comparisons.

Not in terms of better or worse,

Just different.

And not all of these memories are great

But they’re mine

Which lends way to believe that none of our lives are put together on an assembly line

We’re not pre-packaged with memories or programmed with stories

We have to make our own.

And they all come “batteries not included”

And with the endless opportunities presented to us daily

Seldom do we take the time necessary to pause

To stop

To record

Rewind

And press play.

 In our own way, we are all ghetto blasters at top volume,

We consume silence with noise

Speakers pounding out our heartbeats as we write refund receipts for the broken eardrums of people who could hear us live.

We give up ourselves’ time.

Precious, because its quality is limited only by your ability to live within it.

Put yourself into every second of every minute

And you will have a life worth remembering.

Just because we don’t have forever doesn’t mean we have to live our lives moving towards the end as if on a conveyor belt.

I’ve felt nothing short of astonished when people ask me

“How do you memorize all of that?”

The fact of the matter is

It’s not a trick.

There is no thick curtain you need to pull away.

No little old man making it all work from behind a locked door.

You yourself probably remember before when I told you that near a black hole, time slows.

Inside a black hole is where I wanted to grow tomatoes.