light from a window on the left

I’ve been seeing a man in my backyard for the past two nights

Story by reddit user Opinionson

To start I need to give some background:

I am a male who lives in relatively nice neighborhood

It’s your average small town run of the mill suburbs area with not a lot of people.

I am a college kid who’s home on break while my parents have gone away which doesn’t help at all.

I have a two story house

I do not have gun nor do I have any real weapons other than kitchen knives

I am not on any medication and I have no record of schizophrenia or any other mental illnesses

I barely have any relationships with my neighbors most of whom are elderly and the rest I have minimal contact with

I do not have any people in my neighborhood (that I know of) who have reasons to attack or harm me

Now, let’s get into what has been happening. About two nights ago I woke up very late in the night and I went to the bathroom to go take a shit. Now, my second story bathroom has a window that can see the entirety of my backyard. Directly behind it is a cul de sac which you can see directly into. There is a group of trees and pile of rocks and mulch that divides it. Usually I can see everything in my backroom without turning on my because lights from my neighbor’s house dimly lights the room.

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Activists get shot, stabbed, beaten and murdered; white, privileged liberals are silent. Community centers, bookstores and mosques are shot up; liberals wring their hands and forget about it over brunch. People suffer and die as a direct result of systemic violence; liberals bust out their safety pins and pussy hats and hug the perpetrators of that violence.

But when a leftist breaks a window, all of a sudden liberals can’t shut up about it. When people are forced into desperate actions to preserve their own safety, liberals can’t wait to blame the victims. Because they know they’ve lent their tacit endorsement to that victimization through their inaction. They *know* they benefit from that systemic violence, and they *know* a just system would strip some of those benefits away.

They’ll let the rest of us wither and die for the sake of a little extra warmth; that was true in the summer, and even moreso now that winter’s come. We light fires because they left us out in the cold. We must never allow them to forget this.

I laugh nervously at your question. “Do I practice witchcraft? Well, I… dabble.”

Right on cue, several mice tumble out of my pocket with overpriced crystals strapped to their backs. My mug of tea starts frothing and shooting beams of light everywhere. 

Maniacal voices are chattering right outside the window. “USE QUARTZ FOR EVERYTHING!” they say. “HERE, HAVE ANOTHER RECIPE FOR A SALT SCRUB!” 

We both hear faint singing, and we instinctively know it’s coming from the moon. The words are hard to make out, but it sounds something like 🎶 You’re a fucking liar…🎶 

The fae, emboldened by my weak-ass answer, bring their hunting party straight through my living room. We’re left sitting in the wreckage, and I’m clutching my mug of tea. It’s still giving off faint sparks.

“It’s… It’s just a hobby,” I say quietly.

jobetspot  asked:

#100 with Jungkook please! Thank you

I Got You On My Mind [Part 1]

Jungkook Soulmate AU

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Genre: Angst (ft. Fuckboy!Jungkook)

Summary: In a world where soulmates can share thoughts, you never imagined that the sweet voice in your head would belong to a guy like Jungkook.

Word count: 1.5k words

Originally posted by jungxook

You dropped your backpack beside you, and it landed on the ground with a loud thunk. Sighing quietly, you collapsed onto a beanbag (because your university was trendy enough to have them in the library) and tried not to cry. Your body sank into the soft material of the beanbag, and you wished you could just disappear.

The sunlight streaming in from the window beside you doused you in warmth, and soon you felt yourself slipping into sleep.

“Rough day?” a voice rang through your head. Your lips quirked into a smile, your earlier hardships completely forgotten.

It was a rare moment when soulmates shared thoughts. No one really understood the science of soulmates–the mechanics of thought-sharing, in particular. It was just a universally accepted phenomenon, and you thought it was beautiful.

Yeah, you could say that, you thought, hoping your soulmate would be able to hear you. Sometimes, all you got was a passing thought, and sometimes you were able to have conversations. There was only one limitation–you could never share your identity.

Still, you tried and tried and tried. You couldn’t wait to meet your soulmate.

“What happened?” your soulmate asked, his sweet voice making you blush. You thought his voice was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard, and you wondered if the boy was just as beautiful.

Just…life. University’s hard, you know? you replied. The little information you knew about your soulmate was this: he was around your age, also in university, studying music and dance, liked anime, exercised a lot.

“Trust me, I feel that,” came his response, and it sounded almost amused. “But you’ll be okay.”

For the next few minutes, you tried to think of something to ask him. You hoped he couldn’t hear your embarrassing thoughts. His thoughts were silent too, and you knew the connection had been lost.

Smiling sadly, you stood up and grabbed your bag. Your encounter with your soulmate, however brief, was enough to energize you. Ready to face the rest of the day, you walked out of the library. Your thoughts lingered back to your soulmate, and you wondered if he was thinking about you, too.


Your phone blared loudly, and you startled awake. Still disoriented, your heart thumped wildly as you searched blindly for your phone. Finally, you located it on your nightstand. Squinting at the bright screen, you saw that you had an incoming call from your roommate.

“Hello?” you mumbled, pressing your phone to the side of your face.

“Oh, shit, did I wake you up?” Jieun exclaimed, her excited voice too loud so early in the morning. “Well, since you’re up, we can talk! Y/N, you’ll never guess what just happened.”

You sighed, flopping back onto your bed. “So tell me,” you said blandly.

“You’re no fun,” Jieun pouted. “Okay! So. I just slept with Jungkook! Let me tell you, the rumours are true. He’s great in bed and he does this thing–”

“Wow! Cool!” you squeaked, quickly cutting her off. You did not need to know about Jieun–or Jungkook’s–sex life. “Is that a good idea, though? I know you’re low-key crushing on him, but Jungkook doesn’t do relationships, right?”

“He doesn’t,” Jieun confirmed sadly. “But maybe he’ll change?”

“I don’t know, Jieun,” you replied slowly. “Be careful, because with a guy like Jungkook, you’re only gonna get hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she snorted. You could hear rustling in the background as Jieun moved. “He’s a major fuckboy. I’m trying not to catch feelings, but he’s so damn hot.”

You grunted in agreement.

“Oh, Y/N, can you do me a favour?” Jieun asked suddenly. “I’m going straight to school from Jungkook’s flat. Could you bring me a change of clothes and, like, mouthwash or something?”

“Yeah, sure,” you yawned, getting up to go to Jieun’s room. “I’ll be at school in like an hour. Should I just meet you in the music building?”

Jieun was majoring in music, since she was such a great singer.

“Yep!” she chirped. “Thank you so much, Y/N. You’re the bestest friend ever!”


You walked aimlessly through the music building, a bag full of clothes and toiletries on your back, as you searched for the room number Jieun had sent you earlier. It was a practice room, and the hall you were moving through seemed endless.

In the distance, you could hear the sound of someone singing. As you continued forwards, the voice became clearer and clearer. The person had a beautiful voice. It was clear and melodious, floating softly through the air.

It tugged at the back of your mind, like a faint memory. It was almost like a weird sense of deja vu, and you struggled to recall why.

Then–it hit you.

This was the voice you had been hearing in your head your entire life–the one you had listen to transform over the years. Your soulmate was here.

Your heart thundered in your chest as you practically ran, following the sound of your soulmate’s beautiful voice. It led you to a door that was slightly ajar. Your soulmate was still singing, completely unaware that you were just outside the room, listening.

For a moment, you stopped, not entirely sure if you were ready to meet your soulmate. It was supposed to be the most beautiful moment in life, and it felt strange that your meeting wasn’t going to be spontaneous.

Still, your curiosity got the better of you. You peered through the crack in the doorway, searching for the owner of the voice.

Before you, Jungkook stood. His profile was facing you, the light from the window behind him highlighting his features. Jungkook was beautiful.

Then, you turned away. You could feel your heart breaking already. A guy like Jungkook didn’t believe in soulmates, if his sexual escapades were any indication.

So you left, locating Jieun’s practice room and placing the bag in front of it. As quickly as you had come, you exited the building, headed towards the library to drown yourself in work. You wanted to forget–forget who he was, forget about soulmates, forget about the future you had hoped for.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook’s voice suddenly spoke, clear in your mind.

You pushed his thoughts away, keeping your mind blank as possible as you hurried through the quad with your head cast down. You didn’t want to indulge in something you could never truly have.


You spent the entire day in the library, alternating between working and staring blankly at the textbooks in front of you. You had forgotten to eat that day, so when you finally staggered out of the library, you were exhausted and hungry. The walk home was quiet. The sun had set a long time ago, although you weren’t entirely sure what time it was.

Once you reached your apartment, you were surprised to find the front door unlocked. You and Jieun didn’t live in the best part of town, so you were always sure to lock the door whenever you came and went.

You turned the knob, and the door creaked as it opened. As you stepped through the threshold, you stumbled over a pair of shoes that were haphazardly strewn on the ground.

“Y/N!” Jieun exclaimed in surprise, sounding breathless.

At that, you looked up.

In front of you, Jieun was pressed against the wall, shirtless, as some guy was leaning over her, his lips attached to her neck. The guy turned towards you once he noticed Jieun’s stillness.

It was Jungkook.

“Oh my god, Y/N! I’m so sorry,” Jieun rambled, pushing Jungkook off her as she reached down to grab her shirt that had been discarded. “I thought you weren’t coming home tonight, since you were so late!”

“D-don’t worry,” you stammered, your voice wavering. You kept your eyes on Jieun, trying not to look at Jungkook. You could feel his heavy gaze on you. “I can stay with Rose or something, it’s not a problem. I’ll j-just leave–”

Suddenly, Jungkook was in front of you, pushing you backwards until your back hit the wall. His face was morphed into shock, even awe, before he schooled his features back into indifference. Jungkook peered over you, his large frame blocking your line of vision. You were forced to look at him, and his eyes were burning into you yours.

You’re my soulmate!?” he demanded, his normally sweet voice rumbling. The person he was in your mind was completely different than the boy who stood in front of you. “Answer me!”

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice faltering. You continued, your voice stronger, “I am.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook spat, leaning back. He stepped away from you, returning to the front door where he slipped into his shoes. Jungkook turned back to you, and when he spoke, his voice was cold. “I’m not the guy I pretend to be. So do us both a favour and stay the fuck away. Forget this every happened.”

With that, Jungkook exited the apartment, slamming the door behind him. You stood, back still against the wall. You could hear Jieun talking to you, but she sounded far away. But for the first time, your mind was completely blank.

You decided you hated the silence.

- Girl in Luv

Thanks for reading! I think I’ll continue this story…I hate sad endings. When I first imagined this story, it seemed like it could be a longer piece? Maybe I’ll rewrite it or make it a chaptered thing…what do you guys think?

exchanges (m)

Summary: In which Jeon Jungkook is that friendly neighborhood superhero, you’re the face in the hallway that saved his high school career, and he can’t ever seem to get a grip around you. Even when he makes you scream after a fated accident—not for the reason you may be thinking; get the thought out of your head! 
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader 
Genre: Fluff/Smut; Spiderman AU 
Word Count: 14,838
Author’s Note: Honestly though, it was only a matter of time before I got around to writing a story like this. I am obsessed with Spiderman, so this might just be the foundational guideline for many future Jungkook Spiderman AU drabbles to come in the future. 

The story was also heavily inspired by this photo that made me cry for seven days and seven nights. +photo credit !!!!!!!

.

(the present)

If Jeon Jungkook is against anything in his life, it’s one’s ability to exaggerate certain situations or problems to make those things seem much bigger than they probably were. Well, actually, take that back. It’s not that he’s against it per say, it’s just that his peer’s daily struggles of pop quizzes and missing the morning bus aren’t exactly headliner news—especially in comparison to what he has to go through.

Jeon Jungkook is against exaggeration, probably because he can’t get away with it himself. It’s not that he doesn’t like to exchange his fair share of embellished stories or fabricated events weaved into true experiences, it’s that he can’t afford to do so. Sharing stories of his nightly routines and dashing superhero adventures may seem great, but only if he could manage the burden of a personal life and a masked life intertwining.

As an 18-year-old boy, he can probably say it’s safe to assume that he cannot. Manage the overwhelming, opposite pressure both of his lives take him, that is. It’s difficult enough being a college freshman, a tiny fish in an ocean of whales and sharks, but throw in his late night Spiderman facade would be too much of a tale to share with other people and peers who probably ask too many questions and know too much about him. He’s never liked the exposure that comes with being in the spotlight, and he can’t hide behind his mask if people knew who he was.

Oh. Right. Speaking of his Spiderman facade, that’s who is he. Haven’t heard of him? You know, the dashing hero of Seoul, red and blue spandex attire with a web shooter, fine tuned senses and amazingly quick reflexes? The boy who swings around the city, volunteering for trouble and always coming out right on top? The boy who constantly maintains that casual, slightly amused tone throughout a majority of his rescues?

Yeah, well, that’s Jungkook.

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Bygones of the Sun | 01 (M)

Originally posted by hobismole

Genre: Angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok

Length: 10.4k

Summary: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

01 | 02  

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Castiel remembers Dean telling him how creepy it is when he watched him sleep. He’s not sure this still applies now that they frequently share a bed but he hasn’t worked up the courage to ask yet. If the answer is yes then at least this way he can claim ignorance if Dean ever catches him.

Because he can’t help it. Angels don’t need sleep and while Castiel does keep himself busy most of the time while Dean sleeps, he can’t stop himself from indulging every now and then. 

Like now. They are at a motel, a case recently wrapped up but too late in the evening for Dean to want to move on yet. Moonlight shines through the lace curtains on the windows, creating patterns of glowing light on Dean’s skin, interspersed with marks left by Castiel just hours earlier. 

Castiel reaches out, tracing along those marks with his fingertips, too soft for Dean to stir at his touch. The light makes him appear ethereal, but the warmth of his skin is so painfully human. Dean would rage at him for saying as much out loud but Castiel is always aware of just how fragile Dean is compared to him, how little it takes to hurt him. 

Castiel should know. He shudders, forcibly pushing that thought from his mind. He focuses on Dean again instead, the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest, the calmness in his expression. 

Dean is rarely this calm, even in sleep, but sharing a bed with another person sometimes helps. Dean would say it was the sex that calmed him, which is right in a way, but it’s really the intimacy. It makes him feel safe.

He looks… not younger this way, but less burdened. The lines of his face are softened, mouth slack and slightly open. Something in Castiel’s chest tightens at the sight of it. He likes that Dean lets himself relax so completely in his presence. He certainly hasn’t earned this kind of trust but he gets it anyway and he’s grateful for it. 

Suddenly, Dean stirs. Castiel’s fingers halt their journey across Dean’s skin as he cracks one eye open, eyeing Castiel suspiciously.

“Were you just watching me sleep?” he mumbles, voice thick. 

“…No,” Castiel lies blatantly. 

The corner of Dean’s mouth quirks. “No?”

“….Maybe.”

“Okay.” Dean’s eye closes again. “Well, have at it.”

Castiel swallows. “You don’t think it’s creepy?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says. “But it’s fine. I don’t mind. Just don’t wake me up.”

Which is all but a ringing endorsement coming from Dean Winchester. Castiel smiles to himself, suffused with a kind of warmth only Dean can bring him.

“I won’t,” he promises.

Dean hmms in response. It’s only a few moments before he drops off into sleep again, breath deepening and evening out. Unable to resist, Castiel leans in and presses a kiss against his temple. 

The View (m)

Summary: When a supposed bath for one leads to something a little more fun.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Smut
Warnings: PWP, exhibition kink, dirty talk, teasing, oral sex
Rating: M
Word Count: 4218

Originally posted by dream-bts


The tub is full, water sloshing over the sides any time either of you move an inch however, neither of you give a second glance at the liquid building up on the tiled floor. You both are too preoccupied with each other.

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Bubble Bath with Negan

For Ash’s 2k writing challenge! As you can probably guess by the title, I chose the bubble bath prompt. I hope you all enjoy reading it, and let me know what you think! Also, I’m not sure why on some, the “keep reading” thing isn’t visible. So if you can’t see it, just go to my blog. The full post is there. 😉

Summary: Negan has been stressed out lately, so you decide to give him a night of relaxation… ;)

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Swearing, Unprotected Sex.

Characters: Negan & You

Words: 1977

Originally posted by negandarylsatisfaction

Living at the sanctuary was usually great. Most everyone here got along pretty well, with the exception of a few ungrateful workers. As one of Negan’s wives, you had no right to complain. Life was pretty much as great as it could be, given the circumstances. Negan and the Saviors had found you in the woods one day, half out of your mind and very sick. They brought you back, gave you a place to stay, food, medicine, and well, exactly what it’s called. They gave you a sanctuary.

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spookymiscreant  asked:

A concept: Kevin Day and Aaron Minyard talking mad shit about Andrew and Neil. Kevin talking about how he's sick of Andrew "pretending" he doesn't care about Exy and then Aaron replying, "I'd take that over Neil eye fucking the court every day"

i….love this….so much oh my god ok

  • so andrew and neil are on one of theyre “this is nothing but we go on weekend trips together to makeout” things 
  • so kevin needs to practice bc he’s Extra™ and…he’s still having a little trouble relaxing without andrew around all the time
    • andrew gave aaron a look before he left that aaron knows means to watch out for kevin
  • aaron’s complete disinterest manages to deter kevin from practice for two full days
    • never underestimate aaron’s ability to be stubborn to spite someone else ok
  • but finally FINALLy it’s not kevin’s incessant bitching that gets aaron to go to the court with him 
  • it’s aaron getting back from classes and not getting immediately bombarded with requests to go to the court
  • it’s coming home to a silent kevin staring out the window, rubbing his scars
  • aaron sighs deep to hide the fact that he’s concerned and changes into light workout clothes and grabs kevin
  • he also ignores how much kevin lights up when they turn onto the street of the foxhole court
    • this is an example of aaron “im not allowed to feel anything at all ever” minyard
    • also an example of aaron “knows where matt keeps a spare key to his truck” minyard
  • at first aaron refuses to practice with kevin
  • but he “gets bored” or whatever he likes to tell himself
    • see, aaron actually likes exy. he likes the way he can channel all his frustrations into it. he spends so much time studying and trying to figure out his brother and trying to figure out what the hell he wants from his life so sometimes he just needs to run around and knock people on their asses, ok?
    • its also pretty much the only times he can remember connecting with andrew
  • kevin is, like always, completely immersed, and barely notices aaron getting on the court until he walks by him to block his way to the goal
    • kevin’s on the courts because he can breathe there. he’s on the court because its where is mother put him. its the only place he mattered after she died, where he felt like a living thing rather than an asset. 
    • he’s there because even though he’s happy for andrew and neil, he really is, he’s still figuring out how to stand on his own. the court’s been the only place he really felt he could do that. 
  • now aaron may be on the court
  • he may have come to be there for kevin shut kevin up
  • but you best believe he’s gonna bitch about it
  • “fine, i’ll go, but i’m gonna complain the whole time” yea that’s aaron
  • after like one snide comment though Bitchy Kevin comes out to fuckin play and it goes a little something like:
    • kevin: andrew knows he’s good but does he try? of course not. see, that’d be fucking easy. that’d be simple. nothing is simple with him. *cue kevin taking an unnecessarily forceful shot on goal*
    • aaron: and don’t even get me started on neil just asking him for things. are you kidding. andrew doesn’t do anything ever at all and neil just??? asks him??? and he does it???
    • kevin: I KNOW. AS IF I HAVEN’T BEEN MAKING SIMPLE REQUESTS FOREVER.
    • (both of them are secretly wondering why they don’t bitch to each other more often)
  • the best part though, is when aaron is at the height of his rant and says, “You know, i don’t even want to do extra practice, but I’d take this over Neil eye fucking the court every goddamn day”
  • kevin just fucking breaks like he drops his racquet and everything
  • aaron hasn’t ever seen kevin laugh???? its kind of beautiful surprising??
  • kevin gets a hold of himself and wow
  • he doesn’t think he’s ever seen aaron smile he’s surprised how much he likes it
  • after that kevin’s feeling better 
  • they head back to the dorms and play video games for a while, order food. just kinda hang out
  • nothings really changed, per se, but….things are definitely different. 
    • more often than not now kevin will just go to the library to watch his taped games with headphones on while aaron studies, occasionally getting kicked in the shin when he gets too excited
    • when neither of them want to sleep because they know its one of those days they’ll have nightmares they go to the library’s 24 hr lounge and eat shitty microwave ramen (aaron is sworn to secrecy…no one can know kevin loves creamy chicken ramen) and try to teach each other bio or history
    • aaron only had a mother who hurt him growing up, and kevin only had the memory of his mother and people who hurt him growing up . without saying anything, they just understand.
  • in conclusion because aaron is accidentally really funny, kevin and him get a lot closer, which is good, cause they both kinda needed it
  • they wouldnt say they were friends, or are friends, but…maybe its a little “nothing” of their own
protecting you

A/N: this is my first Peter Parker imagine so please just bare with me on this one since it’s most likely going to suck

summary: In which Peter doesn’t want to admit his feelings for you because he’s afraid you’ll get hurt

pairing: peter parker x reader


The night you had confessed your feelings to Peter was probably one of the worst in your life. It had started out normally you two sharing laughs and watching movies. But as he was about to leave you told him how you truly felt about him hoping he would replicate your feelings but too your dismay he did not.

He simply sighed and mumbled a ‘i’m sorry’ before he turned around, his back facing you as he disappeared into the night not turning around to look at you once.

And ever since that night he had been avoiding you which only made you more confused and angry at him. Weren’t you supposed to be the one avoiding him? It was you who had been humiliated that night.

It was you who had cried yourself to sleep not him, so why was he avoiding you. You planned to figure that out today since you were lab partners and you were sure he couldn’t avoid you forever.

But when you walked into the classroom you saw the seat Peter had usually sat in empty so your eyes wondered around looking for a certain brown haired boy and when you finally spotted him you saw him sitting next to none other than Liz Allan.

How could he do that knowing you had literally just poured your heart out to him only two days ago. You felt your eyes well up with tears and you hurried out of the classroom tears spilling down your cheeks like a water fountain.

Peter saw you run out the door but against his better judgement he decided not to follow you even though every part of his body was telling him to.

It wasn’t like you to ditch school but since you were a straight A student one day wouldn’t kill anyone.

So here you were swamped in your white bed sheets light sobs echoing throughout your room and you knew you looked as bad as you felt tears free falling down your cheeks as you couldn’t get the image of Liz and Peter out of your head.

A light tap on your window snapped you out of your daze as you turned around only to see Peter crouching down on the fire escape giving you a sympathetic smile as he saw the state you were in.

Against your will you slowly untangled yourself from your bed sheets and made your way towards the window, moving your right hand up and down your left one as the cold air around you consumed you.

You stood by your window for a second debating if you should let him in or not. You sighed finally giving into his pleading eyes as you put your hand on the lock hesitating a bit before pushing the window fully open allowing him to climb in.

“Hey…” he said dragging out the 'y’ as he walked towards you hoping you would let him hug you but you pushed him away before his arms could fully wrap around you. “What do you want Peter?” you grumbled not daring to look him in the eye.

“I-I uh, just wanted to see how you were doing” he mumbled, rocking back and forth on his heels “i’m doing just great” you replied, sarcasm dripping off of every word you spoke in that sentence.

Peter sighed rubbing his face with his hands “i’m sorry Y/N but we can never be together” your head snapped up and you shook your head in disbelief “and why is that Peter huh? Am i not good enough for you, is that it? Am i not skinny enough? Not smart enough?” You yelled poking his chest with every single word that left your mouth tears falling heavier then they had ever before.

“What the hell is wrong with me because i would love to know why i’m not good enough for Peter Parker” you laughed dryly your body tightly pressed against his as you continued poking his chest.

“stop Y/N” Peter said lowly, looking up at your tear stained face “it doesn’t matter” you scoffed when Peter said this “how can you even say that!? Peter i need to know and i deserve to know!”

“because you would never be safe with me!” His voice was now matching the volume of yours, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to calm himself “what?” you asked now confused more than sad “i’m Spider-Man” he said connecting his eyes with yours “and there are people out there—dangerous people that want to kill me and everyone that i love and i cannot lose you Y/N” Peter said a single tear falling down his cheek.

You slowly walked up to him and put your hand on his cheek feeling him lean into your touch, you smiled and stood on your toes so your faces were only centimeters apart “well guess what Peter no one get’s to make my decisions for me”

And with that being said you pressed your mouth to his feeling his arms wrap around your waist as he forcefully kissed you back turning you both around so that he could pin you against the wall.

He slowly pulled away with you still trapped in between him and the wall and he leaned back down as he rested his forehead against yours, his breath fanning your face as you fluttered your eyes open.

“i love you so much Y/N but i would never forgive myself if something happened to you” Peter admitted closing his eyes as he buried his face into your neck earning a slight giggle from you his rapid breathing tickling the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Peter listen to me, i’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself and if risking my life means being with you—as cliché as that sounds then i’ll do it because i would do anything for you” you smiled and connected your lips with his once again.

You let your lips linger on his for a few moments before pulling away and wrapping your arms around his waist gently laying your head on his chest the steady sound of his heartbeat lulling you into deep sleep.

epiphany pt.2 | jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook + Reader

Genre: Fluff/Angst + college au

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You hated his guts, especially after he ruined your chance at getting a good grade in one of your toughest classes. But why did your heart beat a little faster every time you saw him? And why did he feel the same way?

—–

Reader’s POV

As your eyes fluttered open, the bright light from your window piercing through making you squint, you felt something heavy strayed against your body. Finally adjusting to the light, a gasp left your mouth when you saw Jungkook in front of you, his chest rising up and down softly, as his arm was draped around your waist, having you flush against him.

Wha- OMG!” You exclaimed loudly, as you threw his arm off of you, scrambling away when your sudden movement caused Jungkook to fall off the bed with a large thud.

“What the hell…” he grumbled, his voice low and raspy as he got up on his feet, rubbing the side of his head as he stared at you through his lidded eyes.

“Y-You! You were–Why were you in my bed?!” You shrieked as you quickly looked down at yourself, the clothes you wore last night still donned on your body, a sigh of relief escaping you.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in alarm when a look of realization dawned upon him, as he stared at you, words spluttering from his mouth in a frenzy.

“Wai–It’s not what it looks like! I swear, I didn’t do anything! Y-you’re the one that grabbed me and asked me not to go and-”

“I did what?!” you exclaimed, your own eyes widening to the size of saucers, when Jungkook added, “Last night, you grabbed my wrist and told me not to go in your sleep and I tried but you just wouldn’t let me go so I thought I’d stay till you let me go but then I fell asleep an-”

Moaning, you fell to your knees in dramatic fashion, your head in your hands as you groaned in embarrassment, “Oh my god, I’m such an idiot. This is so embarrassing, this is so embarrassing!!!”

“Y/N–” Jungkook started when you lifted a hand up, pointing towards the door without lifting your head, feeling too ashamed too look him in the eyes.

“Please, just leave Jungkook-ah…I can’t. This is too embarrassing.” you begged as you saw his feet shuffle around, before he grabbed his stuff and made his way out the door, a breath of relief leaving you as you sunk against the wall.

“You’re kidding me?!” Seulgi repeated again while you were walking next to her, your shoulders slumped as your trudged down the sidewalk.

Keep reading

Porcelain and Window Panes

Prompt: Dan sees a a beautiful man doodling on a foggy window in a cafe and can’t get him out of his head. He comes everyday at the same time to see the beautiful stranger.
Word Count: 3671
Warnings: Cussing, light angst
A/N: Thank you to @philestergifs for this amazing prompt! It took so long to write this for some reason (I’ve been writing it since October???) and I’m so happy I could finally get it out! Special thanks to @theinsanityplays as well for giving me some feedback for this fic ^-^ I also didn’t have a beta so sorry for any errors but I hope everyone likes it!
Read it on AO3!

-

To say Dan was having a terrible day was an understatement.

He woke up late, having forgotten to set an alarm for work, so he had to rush through his morning routine. This meant he wasn’t able to take an hour long shower like he was used to and he couldn’t straighten his hair. Thanks to genetics, his hair dried in curly ringlets that stuck out in every direction.

He also had to skip breakfast, which is bad in itself, but he soon found out that his coffee machine had stopped working as well. Dan with curly hair and no morning caffeine? Not a good idea.

So he went for the best option of going to the nearest coffee shop and ordering a french vanilla latte to go.

The wait was nearly impossible to sit through, especially with Dan’s habit of being too impatient for his own good. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically quivering in his shoes at each name that was called. His eyes were frantic while he tried to distract himself from the inevitable doom that was this horrible morning.

Keep reading

I'll Always Write Back [Connor Murphy x Reader]

Title: I’ll Always Write Back

Pairing: Connor Murphy x Reader

Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen

Requested: by the lovely @the-murphy-family

Summary: Connor and the reader are friends online, but then find out they’re neighbors too. The reader is homeschooled, so she has no way of hearing the rumors about him. They become best buds and hang out with each other everyday and eventually fall in love

A/N: This was waaaayyy longer than I wanted it to be, so my apologizes in advance. Thanks again to @the-murphy-family for such a fantastic prompt, I’m sorry I rushed the exposition so much. I had so much fun writing this! (If you aren’t already following their blog, I highly suggest it).

Warnings: Connor’s potty mouth | First person reader | Fighting Murphy siblings

It was almost bedtime by the time I’d messaged him. I hadn’t planned on it, by any means. We talked after I’d finished my lessons for the day–he’d skipped school, I saw, which I always thought was off considering his mother was home.

I’d changed into my pajamas–just an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts–and had begun to tuck myself into bed when I saw him.

He’d left his blind open tonight, and through the window screen I could see him silhouetted perfectly, all the lights in his room blazing. It was nearing 9:30, so I wasn’t too shocked to find he was still awake. The houses were so close together on this side of town and, from the second story window, there was nothing but a four yard distance between our windows–and a drop nearly twice that length.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring straight ahead, giving me a view of his profile, the sharp angle of his jaw, the thin slope of his nose, and the hard jut of his adam’s apple.

 What startled me enough to give pause was the fact he was unnervingly still, unblinking, staring at something I couldn’t see. He wasn’t working on homework or painting his nails or playing that silly candy crush game on his phone. He was just staring.

Too far away for me to make out his expression, I instead rolled over onto my bed, clicking the lights back on and pulling out my phone, opening up the Chat app we used on the daily.

To: Connor
From: Me

What’s up, buttercup?

I wished I could see him–there were certainly nights we sat by the window and messaged back and forth, but starting out that way would mean he knew I saw him lost in whatever pensive state he’d been in, which more often than not would mean he’d be less than willing to talk. In my lap, my phone buzzed to life.

From: Connor
To: Me

Isn’t past your bedtime or something? 

I snorted, starting my own reply before:

From: Connor
To: Me

Are you having trouble sleeping again?

Swallowing thickly, I immediately replied:

To: Connor
From: Me

No, I’m fine. Just bored, checking to see if you were too :)

I tried to wait, give Connor a moment to compose whatever turmoil he’d been sitting in before I asked how he felt, otherwise I’d get a swift ‘okay’ and the conversation would take a dive bomb south at ridiculous speeds.

From: Connor
To: Me

If it’s nudes you’re looking for, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not in the mood tonight, kiddo

I choked, lunging forward in the bed to muffle my embarrassing squawk into my fist. Thank goodness my bed was out of sight of the window, or I’d have to watch Connor chortling at my less than appropriate reaction to his less than appropriate joke.

Connor and I had only been talking for about two months now, after I’d moved out here five months ago. Well, we’d been talking for nearly the entirety of the five months, but I’d only realized it was Connor not all that long ago.

To: Connor
From: Me

Oh no, whatever will I do without seeing your sculpted, rock-hard abs??? ;)

From: Connor
To: Me

Shut up, jerk off

I cackled into my fist, careful to not wake my siblings that slept in the next room over. It had taken a large amount of time to get used to Connor’s rather blunt personality, to put it pleasantly.  He’d always been candid, of course, ever since the first contact I’d had with him on the Chat app (“You swear you aren’t a pedophile, right? Or my dad? That’d be weird as fuck.”) and it had been thrilling to be with someone so open and ready to talk about things. The way he felt. The things he thought. The fact he was afraid.

We didn’t exchange photos for a long time–and I’d never seen Connor outside the house, other than the on and off times he’d flit across his bedroom window like a haunt, never knew his name–but the second his photo flashed on my screen, I knew. Even in the photo he hadn’t been smiling, the same stoic countenance he always wore.

He’d recognized my photo immediately, and had been less than thrilled. It took convincing–a lot of me showing up at the fence between our yards, very nauseous, promising it hadn’t been a mean joke–but he came around.

From: Connor
To: Me

You sure you’re good? You’re quiet

I smiled softly at my phone screen. It was a rare night when Connor had enough energy to be so concerned about others–it wasn’t his fault, I knew, he was just in a bad spot right now. The fact he could consider my feelings for more than a few moments felt remarkable, flattering. But, most importantly, it meant he was doing okay.

To: Connor
From: Me

I’m fine, pls don’t worry :)

To: Connor
From: Me

Are YOU okay?

From: Connor
To: Me

I’m fine, chill out

I rolled my eyes, unsurprised. Deflect and distract, his usually strategy.

From: Connor
To: Me

Can’t see you rn


From: Connor
To: Me

Come to the window

I sat up quickly, going over to shut out the light to blur my image to him. Combing my messy hair with my fingers, I tugged on my oversized shirt so that it covered my mostly exposed legs before throwing open the window and leaning out.

Connor, across the way, had already thrown his window open and was halfway leaning out, his face scrunched in confusion. He tapped something out on his phone, pausing every so often to tuck back the dark locks falling into his face. His other arm was braced on the window ledge, the sleeve of his hoodie pushed up to expose his bare forearms to moonlight, glowing a soft snow hue in the dark. My phone buzzed as he glanced back up at me with an open expression.

From: Connor
To: Me

Turn on the light, dumbass, I can barely see you

I smiled up at him, putting my phone aside to shake my head 'no’. He frowned, slumping down a little more against the window, his chest pressed to the ledge, before holding his arms up in a 'why not?’ and flipping me the bird.

I typed out a quick response to let him know that my parents thought I was asleep. I watched him read the text, watched his eyebrows furrowed over his deep-set slate eyes, saw him frown, heard him swear under his breath. I bit back a chuckle as he carded his hand through his hair in frustration several times.

I vaguely wondered why this made so little sense–most of our conversation up to this point had been centric of me, but Connor was visibly frustrated (not that he wasn’t frequently) and earlier he’d seemed much to absent to not be upset about something. My phone buzzed to life, casting a blue glow across my face, and I saw Connor’s face stretch in recognition, pleased to make out my expression in the dark.

From: Connor
To: Me

Meet me in the pool house

My heart jackhammered in my chest at the thought of it–sneaking out. He was crazy, he had to be. He knew my parents would murder me for being up this late, let alone sneaking out, and worst of all, meeting a boy.
Not just a boy. Connor.

I felt him watching me from across the divide, at the edge of my vision and could make out where he leaned against the window, propped up on his elbows and head in his hands, hair hanging in his face. Glancing up, meeting his stony gaze, I nodded.

It was immediate, earning a reaction from him. Biting back my chuckle, he scrambled up from where he kneeled against the window ledge, his whole face smiling as he ran from his window without looking back. He was already standing in his backyard, waving wildly before I’d even departed from the window.

I decided against redressing or doing my hair–Connor was waiting and the quicker I got out there the quicker I got back without alerting my parents to my absence. Besides, it was probably too dark in the pool shed for Connor to make out my bare face and frizzy hair anyway, let alone the hair on my legs and the stretch marks on my thighs. As if Connor had the nerve to look to begin with, I snorted.

Sneaking out was surprisingly easy, and Connor had left the gate cracked just enough for me to slip in between. The door to the pool shed–just a small building, hardly smaller than my bedroom, at the edge of the yard–was slightly ajar, and I saw quick movements coming from inside.

Once in the doorway, clicking the door shut behind myself, I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me.

“Connor?” I called, spinning in the dark so that my back rested against the door, ready to exit if necessary. My eyes searched the dark frantically–in vain. There was a small window, vaguely fogged from years of neglect that allowed a slim moon beam to shine in on a small pile of towels and blankets, a little bean bag chair. Connor had told me not too long ago he and Zoe hadn’t played in here for years, which meant it held secrets long forgotten by either of the Murphy children. I felt honored to be inside it.

“Hey,” he breathed, and though I could see him, I recognized his soft voice just to the right side of me, breathy and soft. It’s too dark to make him out, and I noticed he’s careful not to touch me, but I can feel his breath against my ear, warm despite the fact it’s chilly for a June night. I felt goosebumps pimpling along my legs, making the hair stand up on end. I silently thanked the universe for giving me the gift of darkness to veil myself in.

“Feels like it might rain,” I sighed, turning toward the sound of him, the warmth. My bare arms brushed something–maybe cotton, maybe not–but it pulled back immediately away from me, accompanied by a quick intake of breath.

“Christ, don’t talk about the weather,” Connor hissed into the dark, a hard thunk resonating through the shed where he must have leaned his head against the wall, a bit too forcefully. How very Connor of him. “That’s the kind of shit my dad says in the car when he acts like he’s uncomfortable to be near me for more than ten minutes at a time.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, leaning away, and turning to gingerly pick my way across the shed–it was getting late now and I was already beginning to get tired. Connor may be able to stay up until the early morning hours, but I definitely couldn’t be trusted to be awake at eleven.

“Fuck, don’t be sorry, I just meant–shit,” he growled, and I heard another sharp pang against the steel inside of the shed–he’d hit something with his fist, if the metallic clink of what I assumed to be his ring against the sheet metal was any indication.

I stumbled my way to the beanbag chair, collapsing, and letting myself sink into. It smelled a little like chlorine and sun-in hair dye, but it was soft and warm, almost the size of a double bed. I wiggled upright, squinting again to see Connor in the dark now that I took up the only patch of moonlight in the building.

“You aren’t feeling alright, are you?” I asked softly, resting my cheek against the faux suede of the chair, struggling to keep my eyes open. There was a pause.

“That’s not why I asked you over,” he sighed in his tennor, stomping across the room, picking his way, until he flopped down beside me, displacing the insides of the chair and nearly rolling me out of it.

He reached forward with another soft swear, grabbing my shoulder blades to yank me back onto the bean bag bed, rolling me close so that I wouldn’t fall again. I laughed, unsure what was so funny–maybe it was the fact I’d nearly catapulted out of the chair due to all five pounds of Connor “Ribcage” Murphy, or the current situation, my face pressed against the soft cotton of his hoodie, his heartbeat steady and strong against my cheek. I didn’t move away.

To my surprise, Connor didn’t move away either, just kept both arms wrapped around me, hands firmly in place of my scapula as if scared to dip any lower. I felt the dip of his chin against my temple, felt his lips against my scalp.

“Aren’t you freezing?” He whispered, rubbing quick circles between my shoulder blades.

“Quit dodging my question, Con,” I hissed, beginning to pull away before Connor tightened his grip–surprisingly strong for a boy with such lithe wrists.

“But you are cold,” he muttered, slipping one hand down from my shoulder to my bare arms, rubbing in quick patterns there, attempting to make some sort of friction between us.

God, my parents would kill me if they saw me now.

I want to he clear I wasn’t under any pretenses–this wasn’t, er, Connor hadn’t called me out here so that we could, well–

“I’m fine, Connor,” I promised, taking advantage of the moment to fold my arms against him, trapping them between the heat of our bodies, letting my cheek rest idly against his chest. Connor didn’t like me, I knew, but in the dark shed…well, it was easy to pretend.

It was always easy to pretend to be someone else with Connor.

“You wanna talk about what’s going on with you right now?” I said with a false bravado, thumping his chest lightly with my fist. “You can’t hide anything from me, Connor Murphy. I know you too well.”

“You don’t know anything, dumbass,” he grumbled half-heartedly, and I felt him lean forward to press his face into my hair. “You don’t know shit.”

“So you’re lying to me?” I baited with a smile, tapping his chest, feeling his frustrated sigh and rewarding him with a light laugh. “I didn’t think so. I’m here for you, you know.”

“I know,” he growled, sighing heavily, taking one hand off my back to push his hair away, before letting me go entirely to roll onto his back. His thin fingers covered his face, the black fingernails scratching frustratedly against his pale face. “I just–I don’t, I don’t know how to–shit.”

I leaned forward to tap his chest again, letting him know I was here. “Just talk it out. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

He shocked me by reaching forward with one hand, knotting his fingers with my own and letting them linger against his chest. I was grateful he couldn’t make out my expression from his position, grateful for the fact he couldn’t feel my face flush. I’d never been this close with a boy in my life, and Connor knew that. He wasn’t being fair, and I was sure he knew that too.

Unless he didn’t. Connor had a bad habit of selling himself short. I bit back the urge to press a kiss to his bony knuckles.

“I know,” he whispered, voice suddenly hoarse. He was worse than I thought. “Um, it’s harder now? I guess. I trust you–I mean, I always trusted you. It’s um, it’s harder because the anonymity is gone, I guess? I’m worried now that you know who I am–what I am–you’re gonna get bored of me?”

I didn’t laugh this time. His voice was thick and rapid as if he couldn’t hold back the word vomit, like he’d been holding it back for a while. My own throat felt thick, and I couldn’t contain the guilty feeling in my stomach. I rolled forward, wrapping my arms around his thin waist, feeling his hip bone press against mine sharply. I was careful not to look at his face–it’d shut him down for sure.

“Connor…I need you just as much as you need me, you know that right?” I whispered, trying too hard not to let him hear the panic in my voice.

“I know,” he rasped shallowly, sounding oddly wet. He was crying, I realized stupidly. My heart constricted in my chest, my stomach dropping. He was in pain and I had barely noticed. This was all my fault.

“And even if I didn’t need to vent, if I didn’t need your support, I’d still talk to you because I like you, Connor. You’re my friend. You’re a good person,” I whispered.

“Shut up.”

“You are,” I continued. “You’re a great person and you’re always looking after me, even when you’re hurt. I’m so sorry you’re hurting, Connor, I’m so sorry I didn’t notice–”

“I’m not hurting! Shut up!”

“Shhhh,” I hushed, sitting up to remind him to be quiet. “You’re parents are gonna–”

His face was red. His nose and lips were swollen, wet, and his cheeks, flecked with silver freckles glowing lightly in the moonlight beam he laid in, and there were tear tracks running from the corners of his eyes.

“Connor,” I cried softly, reaching up to wipe his cheek. “Please–”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he sobbed wetly, hands folding up to cover his face. “Just fucking get out, okay? This was a mistake.”

“Hey, hey,” I soothed frantically, reaching up to pet his hair, hoping that it might make him unfold himself. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong. I’m gonna help, Connor, whatever you need. I want to help you, please.”

“I’m not your responsibility, kid, okay? You can leave. Stop looking at me, Christ.”

“No,” I sighed. “Look, if you don’t wanna talk, that’s okay. That’s okay. Just, let me stay, okay? I’m not judging you, I’m not gonna leave, I promise. I’m here for you. Let me be your friend.”

He shook underneath me, holding in sharp sobs. I wondered how long it’s been since he let himself fall apart like this, let himself have some kind of catharsis, let himself feel, period.

This relapse was good. It was under control. I was here. I had him.

“Okay,” he whispered finally, reaching up to tangle his hands in my hair. “Christ, just–don’t tell anyone, okay? Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” I promised. “I’m not. I’m here, okay? You don’t have to talk.”

“Okay. Okay…thanks.”

I might have imagined it, as I lowered my head back to his chest, might have imagined in between the soft presses of his fingers as they moved in and out of my, might have imagined, just briefly, the feeling of his lips pressed against my hair.

———-

The next morning was awkward. My parents and siblings showed no knowledge of the fact I’d snuck out to see Connor last night–it wasn’t as if they weren’t aware we were friends, to my parents chagrin and the Murphys’ delight, but I didn’t need them to think we were involved in some sort of torrid tryst, especially one we weren’t even having.

I left a few hours after Connor had slowly ceased his wet and much needed lament and his breathing had turned into a soft snore. I untangled myself from his arms, and leaned back for awhile to watch him sleep, tried to ignore how angelic he looked, red faced and weepy with silver freckles glowing mutely in the patch of moonbeam.

I’d sent him a quick text to let him know I wanted to return before my parents woke up, let him know I’d be by the next day. Told him to  message me if he wanted to talk again.

Now I was waiting for my mother to finish grading my papers for the day so I could to see Connor, who didn’t have school today thanks to some silly teacher institute, lucky loser. The American school system was a joke, to be quite honest.

“You’re jumpy,” my mother noted, scribbling something in the margins of my paper without looking up at me.

“I was gonna ask if I could go over to the Murphy’s? I haven’t talked to Zoe in a long time,” I asked sheepishly, scratching at my arm.

“And Connor, hmm?” My mother hummed thoughtfully, giving a smirk to my workbook.

“Connor’s cool,” I said honestly, nonetheless feeling a guilty lump rise in my throat.

“He’s a good boy,” she mused. “He always helps me with groceries if he’s outside.”

“Which is never,” muttered one of the younger kids, earning a kick under the table from me. My mom just smiled softly.

“Go ahead, honey. Call if you’re going to be longer than an hour.”

I thanked her, nearly sprinting out the door, my twin braids slapping against my back as I skipped between the yards. Zoe was at the door before I knocked, leading me into the kitchen, announcing me loudly in a way that would’ve earned a talking to at my house.

Cynthia appeared in the doorway, looking radiant, albeit a bit tired. Her face smiled brightly at me.

“Honey! It’s so good to see you, it’s been so long since you’ve stayed for dinner–Larry, tell Connor she’s here!–Zoe’s missed you, you should stay the night, right Zoe?–Larry, call Connor–Would that be alright with your parents? Stay for dinner then stay the night? I can run out and rent some movies and snag a pizza–Larry!

Zoe just rolled her eyes, yanking me down the steps past her mother and into the basement. Her grip on my arm was vice like, almost painful and definitely excessive. Her pretty red hair blew up in my face, making the already dark room even harder to see through the haze of her auburn locks. She practically shoved me onto the couch, following me by slamming down beside me.

“Zoe–”

“I saw you last night.”

My pulse hammered in my throat, and I felt all the blood rush swiftly to my face, making me dizzy.

“What?”

“I saw you. I told Mom. I don’t think Dad–”

“What do you mean?” I gasped, throwing my hands between us. Zoe blinked rapidly.

“You and Connor. In the shed. Last night. Christ, it was only ten, you could’ve been sneaky about it–”

“Zoe, we didn’t do anything,” I pleaded. God, if the Murphys knew, they’d tell my parents–

“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” She sighed, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. “Whatever, okay? You don’t have to tell me, I don’t give a shit as long as you aren’t pregnant. Just–because you’re my friend, I want you to know some things. Are you gonna listen?”

I thought better than to argue with Zoe, so I nodded shyly.

“Look, I know you and Connor are friends. That’s fine, whatever. But you don’t see Connor at school. You don’t see Connor here, not really. Not what he’s like when you aren’t here.”

I felt my heart constrict. She was going to try to convince me to stop talking to Connor.

“He’s mean. You don’t think it’s weird you’re his only friend? He’s a bully. He’s lazy. He’s violent, Christ–he’s my brother, I love him. But you shouldn’t…you shouldn’t take him seriously, okay? One day his temper is gonna flip and you’re gonna be in his way.”

I blinked, stunned that Zoe would say something so slanderous about her own brother.

“I don’t understand,” I said softly, staring across at her. It was no wonder Connor was so upset, why he had to reach out to strangers on the Internet to vent. His own home was a war zone.

Zoe sighed heavily. “You aren’t at school. You don’t hear the rumors. You don’t see the things he does. If you wanna be friends, fine, but…be careful. I wouldn’t let him anywhere near your heart.”

I didn’t argue with Zoe–I thought better of it. So I just nodded.

“Thanks for, um. Thanks for the warning,” I said with a thick voice, struggling to maintain sincerity.

“You’re welcome,” she sighed. “Mom thinks you’re dating. She’s over the moon. It’s disgusting.”

“I thought you thought we were dating,” I pried, raising an eyebrow. Zoe rolled her eyes, hitting me with a deadpan expression.

“As if Connor could ever get someone like you. As if Connor could even feel something remotely close to love–I’m half convinced his chest is an icebox,” she laughed dryly.

“Talking about me, are we?”

We both spun, wide eyed to see Connor on the stairs, arms folded.

“No, go ahead, I’ll wait. I love hearing stories about myself. Tell me again Zoe about how I’m in love with her?” He hissed, making my face burn red in shame. I felt awful for letting Zoe talk about him that way–worse because Connor made it painful clear he didn’t reciprocate any feelings I might’ve had for him.

Wait. I didn’t have feelings. Connor was a friend. A good friend. A friend who needs me and who doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of, not until he’s okay. Not ever.

“Never said that,” Zoe said with a smirk, rising from the couch gracefully. “But keep digging your grave, it’s fun to watch.”

“Fuck you,” he growled.

“Fuck you,” she grinned. “I’d love to watch your train wreck love admission, Titanic is on, and at least that story has a happy ending.”

Connor kept a white knuckled grip on the banister as she passed, as if holding in an urge to push her. He kept his blazing eyes downcast, and noted his pale cheeks were burning red.

“What’d she tell you?” He whispered once the door slammed.

“Nothing true,” I promised, leaning forward on the couch to make room for him, patting the seat beside me. “Nothing that changed my mind.”

His head snapped up, and I watched his expression go from rage to disbelief to awe before he descended the stairs, shaking. He stopped before the couch, as if scared to come near me, staring down in awe.

“What did my mom say to you?”

I shook my head. “Not much. She asked if I could spend the night. Only if you want me to, though.”

He laughed, but the smile didn’t quite reach his face. “Only if I want you to, Christ, where did I find you?”

“The Internet,” I reminded, earning another laugh.

“Of course I want you to,” he sighed, finally coming to sit beside me. “Of course I want–”

He cut himself off, surprising me, before slinging an arm around my shoulder. I stiffened, but eventually melted against him, reminding myself that it was just Connor.

“You wanna watch a movie? I hear they’re playing Titanic or something.”


——

It’s two am when I wake up, taking a quick mental assessment of where I am. There’s a soft blue glow burning my eyes, shining over what appears to be a nest of blankets piled roughly on the floor.

The Murphy’s basement, I realized with a jolt, I’m just at the Murphy’s.

I’m in a pair of Connor’s pajamas–Zoe’s clothes don’t quite fit me right–an oversized black shirt and a pair of sweats Cynthia brought down in a laundry hamper. My braids have long since come loose, the desperate curls tangling wildly around my head.

Beside me, Zoe is snoring, almost comically, every so often a nostril whistles in time to the soft sound of Dexter’s Lab playing on the tv.

There’s a hand, dangling just above my head. The pale fingers were curved artistically, the nails too short as if they’ve been bitten recently and the black nail polish chipped hopelessly. It’s attached to an arm, long and thin, almost angular, and up farther is a shoulder, bare, pressed against a red coffee stained couch.

Connor.

“You’re awake,” he whispered in a conspiratory voice, but when I sat up to make contact, there’s no sly smirk. He’s frowning. “You are having trouble sleeping.”

I shook my head. “Stop worrying about me, Connor.”

“No,” he rasped, sitting up on the couch. I avoided looking too long at his bare chest, but regardless indulged nonetheless.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” I noted, coming to sit by him on the couch. He immediately opened the blanket, giving me room to slide in beside him, before throwing it around both of us so we could settle back against the couch. His bare skin was warm, and I let him take both my hands between his, letting him rub my hands between his in an attempt at some warmth.

“Been thinking too much,” he sighed softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

I swallowed, beginning to feel the effects of sleeplessness and helplessness melt together in a fatal concoction.

“I can’t help if you don’t let me, Connor,” I reminded him, pressing closer. “Let me help. What are you thinking about?”

He leaned away, as if I’d burned him, dropping my hands into his lap and looking away, the thin muscle of his cheeks hollowing as he clenched his jaw. “Can’t say.”

“Connor,” I pleaded. “Please let me help. I want to. I’m begging.”

“No,” he growled. I felt tears beginning to build, to my own horror, behind my eyes.

“Connor, can you just–”

You.”

It was an explosion. We both froze, turning in horror to glance at Zoe, waiting to breathe until we heard the soft whistle of her nose again. I turned slowly, terrified back to Connor. His eyes were wide, and if I didn’t have my fingers wrapped around his knee, I swore he might try to run.

“Me?” I asked softly, careful not to wake Zoe. Connor pursed his lips, his jaw twitching nervously.

“Fuck, yes, you, just–shit, I didn’t wanna say that–”

I leaned away, watching Connor’s face contort farther.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered heatedly. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong. You want me to go, right? I’m really sorry, Connor–”

“What?” He nearly yelled. “You think–fuck.”

His head ducked, to my great surprise, against my shoulder, pressing his face into the crook of my neck and, of all things, began to laugh.

“Connor–”

“You think–Christ, it’s like you aren’t even real. You think I’m mad at you?”

He pulled away, his face no longer red or swollen, just smiling softly at me, almost awe struck, and staring intently with his slate eyes.

“I…I’m not sure?” I whispered, but not feeling at all nervous when Connor snaked his hands gently up my arms again.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered suddenly, shocking me. “And you have no idea that you’re perfect. Christ.”

I frowned. “Connor. I don’t…I don’t think I understand.”

But he was still looking at me–eyes scanning slowly over my face, landing suddenlyhalf-lidded on my lips, and it suddenly all clicked into place. Why Zoe would warn me. Why Cynthia acted the way she did. Why Connor was so scared in the first place.

I remember Zoe saying how over the moon Mrs. Murphy was at the idea of Connor and I dating–because that meant Connor would have me. It meant Connor would be happy.

It meant I would have Connor.

It was like a sudden dam had broken open inside me, filling me with more revelations as Connor’s hands lifted to cup the back of my head, his eyes soft, scared, and asking as they met mine. I let a quick exhale before I surged forward, slamming out mouths together much too forcefully, and not at all enjoyably.

I laughed–much too loud–but Connor kept back to the task at hand, his eyes closed in concentration, swallowing my outburst and folding me against his (very, very bare) chest and kissing me deeper, slower. It was painfully obvious he didn’t know what he was doing, but so much about the kiss was still tender and important, warming me from my core outward until I was scratching to wind my arms around him, getting him as close to me as I possibly could, kissing back to make sure he knew how much I wanted this. How much I wanted him.

How much I needed him. Anything he needed, I’d give him. Now and forever and–

“If you two are gonna fuck, can you do it in the bathroom or something? I’m trying to sleep.”

Connor and I pulled apart–causing me to stumble backwards against the arm of the couch gracelessly and staring at Zoe as she rolled over with her back to us.

I dared a peek back at Connor, whose lips were pink and wet despite their dry skin splitting with the force of his wide, wide smile.  His eyes were glowing brightly, almost burning as he raked them over me. The flannel blanket was pooled behind his back where it had been wrapped around us, and he just simply opened his arms again, inviting me back. His pale chest–pock marked with freckles, clusters on his ribs–was striped with pink lines from where my fingers had raked in a desperate attempt to give him validation.

I crawled forward, pressing my face against his neck in a hazy attempt to bring my breathing back to a normal speed.

“You okay?” I asked, running my fingertips over his shoulders, fighting the urge to word vomit an unholy collection of questions about who and what we were. Connor Murphy, post kiss. Connor Murphy, still life, smiling with wet, swollen, bloody lips. Connor Murphy standing at the edge of happiness, jumps over the ledge.

He nodded against me, fighting with his own dark curls where they made an attempt to cloud my cheeks in an adoring way. Cute, I decided.

“Okay? I’m,” he sighed, laughing and wrapping his arms around me to squeeze tightly. “I’m…you have no idea.”

“Better than nudes?” I teased. He snorted, embarrassed.

“I’m positive. Although–”

I hit him.

“Okay, kidding! Jeez…” he pulled away, cupping my face lightly, pushing the hair back out of my eyes like I was a child. It felt fantastic, he was right, as I searched through the galaxies in his eyes, his pale skin illuminated by the hazy blue glow of the television. It felt so far past amazing, being held like I was the only person he knew how to see. He cleared his throat, and I saw his eyes were brimming with an emotion I couldn’t name.

“You, uh,” he laughed nervously under his breath. “You have to know I love you.”

It was a startling blow, knocking all the air out of me and forced a bubbling laugh to fly out of my lungs. Connor’s smile wavered slightly, so I popped up to press a soft kiss to the cleft of his chin.

“I know,” I sighed, giddy with the realization it was true. “I know. And you know I trust you more than anyone. You know I love you.”

It was like watching him crack open, the way all the uncertainty was cleared from his face, a wave of joy and triumph.

“You love me?” He asked so softly, so awestruck, I felt my heart shake in my chest. I’d barely started to nod before he surged forward to kiss me again, small and chaste pecks across my face and neck, the bridge of my nose, my temples.

He was okay. We were okay. We were going to be just fine.

baby, my baby | 04

Originally posted by kookmin

“Raise my child, just for twelve months”

◇ pairing: jungkook | reader
◇ genre: angst, fluff. parents au
◇ word count: 3.3 k
◇ author’s note: i will be updating this series every friday evening, 11~12pm korean time! i really hope you enjoy!

part one  ↠ ↠ previous part ↠ part four next part 

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You made poetries about me. About how I curl my body when I’m asleep and how the winds scud my hair waving like riptides. How you love the way I flutter my eyes and how my irides turn into fireworks whenever I hear you say my name or just by looking at your face. You wrote about how I can never sleep with my lights on—you know I can never sleep even just with the slightest ray of light. You wrote about how I take sleeping pills every night and how I cover all the windows with thick and pitch-dark curtain just not to see a speck of luminescence from the outside. You wrote about every little thing about me. But one day, somehow, you ran out of words and you got tired of me being your muse. And since then, I wait. Every day and every night I am waiting for you to come back and tell me you are filled with words and metaphors again. Because ever since you left, I never turned off my lights. And love, I did not take sleeping pills again tonight.
—  an excerpt from theraserrano’s upcoming book, Cher Ami
This Is War [11]

Summary: After being rejected by your best friend Bucky, Sam sets you up with one of his friends, on the condition that if the date doesn’t go well, you have to sign up for a dating app. The date doesn’t go well. As you begin to look for love in other places, Bucky starts to feel something he never felt before. Jealous.

Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 1520

Warnings: Angst. Maybe some language. Mentions of alcohol

A/N: Haha.. Insert sweating emoji face here..

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FP Jones/Andrews family/Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 9

Originally posted by riverdalesource

AN: This chapter is a little different… It’s also a little short so I may release the next chapter a little earlier than Friday. 

(Part One) (Part Two)(Part Three)(Part Four)(Part Five)(Part Six)(Part Seven)(Part Eight)

Overall Summary: You’re Archie’s old sister and you have a thing for a certain serpent

Pairing: Reader x FP Jones, Sister!Reader x Archie Andrews, Daughter!Reader x Fred Andrews

Word count: 1,335

Warnings: Well, FP is clearly older than the reader in this fic, none really

Before homecoming…

FP watched you leave the trailer with a unconscious smirk on his lips. 

You really were something else. 

He turned to the kitchen and poured himself a coffee, he had to be at Alice Coopers in an hour and if he was honest, he was kind of nervous. 

He knew Alice. He knew that this wasn’t just some social gathering to bring the Cooper/Jones family together but he said he’d go since Jughead seemed so damn excited about it. And in the end, he didn’t care that much about Alice’s intentions as long as his son was happy.

And your surprise visit was enough to encourage him to get through the rest of the evening. Knowing that you would be at the Whyte Wyrm in a pair of combat boots and black washed jeans that clung to you so tightly was enough to help FP through the night. 

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3 Perfect Days In Seattle: A Guide

Day 1

Morning Coffee: Elm Coffee Roasters

240 2nd Avenue South | Seattle, WA 98104

If you fly in take the Link (Seattle Public Transit) downtown.

Right when you get off, you can walk a few blocks until you find Elm Coffee.

This place was recommended by new friends I found from Instagram the wide open space is filled with a white marble bar, and tables accompanied by wicker chairs that seem to fit you just right.

 Petite pastries lay across the bar. The most tempting are the vegan donuts, although you won’t be able to tell the difference.

 The coffee has a light, citrus scent to the roasted beans and the pitter patter of feet fill your ears as customers line up for their morning latte. The ambience is very relaxing, light chatter feels comfortable, and is a sweet spot that isn’t so touristy (like Original Starbucks, you can go there, too!)

Mid-Day Brunch: Biscuit Bitch

1909 1st Ave | Seattle, WA 98101

Walking down to Pike Place, the infamous marketplace is next. To satisfy the itch to try new food in the city, you can get your southern soul food fix closeby.

 The sidewalk is usually lined up with hungry brunchers in line or waiting for one of the (few) coveted tables. The popularity of this place is obvious with people casually walking by end up joining in on the biscuit madness. Biscuit Bitch has all the sass and snarkiness that lives up to its name. The staff has hair all colors of the rainbow, tattoos that dot their arms, and are quirky and loud. I blushed a bit while ordering the “Hot Mess Bitch” but I’ll admit it felt cool to cuss when I ordered.

 The Hot Mess Bitch had me exploring every corner of my cardboard to go box (everything is packaged to go). One bite had me chomping down smooth grits with cheese and the next bite I’d get a flavor whirlwind of sausage, jalapeno and biscuit. Every bite was a new experience depending on which ingredients I wanted to combine next.

The Hot Mess Bitch- Biscuit Bitch

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She has no throne. Girls without thrones should not have knights, but hers won’t go. Princess Zelda – the girl who killed Calamity – would love to fade into legend, but Link’s bought a house, he’s fighting off monsters, and he’s selling giant horses to strangely familiar Gerudo men. She’ll never have any peace now. (ao3)  

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