my heart breaks every time i see this

i don’t know what i ever saw in you — or continue to do so. but i am drawn to you like a moth is to a flame. i tried to stay away, i really did, but i’m caught in your web and i can’t break free. your poison smells like honey to me and i can’t help but crave it.

my heart skips a beat every time i see you; my heart dances ferociously every time you’re near. and my heart feels so heavy when you’re gone. i want you back but i know you’re not good for me.

i miss you so much. i miss what we used to be. i read our old messages constantly but we haven’t even spoken in what feels like centuries.

god, how i miss your smile.

—  Alli M.A. ~ Her {12}
Wanna know the truth behind Girls like Girls?

I have been working on finding my voice for years. As an artist, I always want everything I create to represent what my soul feels and sounds like – whether it’s a video concept or a lyric or melody.

Two years ago on a rare rainy day in Los Angeles, in a songwriting session with Owen Thomas and Lily May Young, I was venting my frustration about my music not connecting the way I wanted it to. Lily looked me in the eye and asked, “Tell me something nobody knows about you, something you are afraid to sing about?“ I immediately thought, well I like girls and that’s what I want to sing about, but even then I struggled to say it out loud. Finally, I told Lily that I always say “you” and “them" and never the pronoun “her" in all my songs because I was afraid it wouldn’t connect. We talked more about concepts and my experiences, and how I loved the idea of stealing another guy’s girl because that was always a fantasy of mine. Growing up, everything I did was always about girls. I took dance because of girls. I got involved in student council because of girls. Not that I ever expected any of them to like me back, but I just felt comforted being around them, even if I could never date them. So there we were. The song “Girls like Girls" was born.

I imagined a very emotional, heart-wrenching but real music video to go along with the song. When we shot the music video for “Girls like Girls,“ I felt like I was finally telling my story for the first time. The yearning feelings I had and also the feeling of being so alone. I think that’s why people connected with the music video. Not only because they too have experienced deeply liking someone, but also the sadness and longing that comes with it. You could be around so many people, and still have the feeling of being so alone and misunderstood. It’s that fear of rejection and uncertainty of whether the person will like you back that makes you question everything. I struggled with these feelings so much growing up. I’d fall in love with girls who would never give me the time of day, or if they would, they had no idea I had other intentions. I had my heart broken over and over again; I never felt good enough. My life was led by these crushes as far back as first grade, when I had a crush on my teacher. That was the first time I realized I liked girls. But the problem is you feel like you can’t share these true feelings with anyone for fear of outing yourself and facing judgement. So you struggle. And feel alone. Growing up, there were some [out] celebrities who were much older than I was and I wondered if I had to wait until then to be happy. I didn’t have role models who I could relate to at the time, where I could think, if they can do it, I can do it.

Most of the time, you become confident after years of struggling during your young adulthood. I want to encourage the youth to find that confidence now. Not later. For them to know their own self-worth at an earlier age. It’s been really cool at my concerts to see all of these young fans showing up alone, and then leaving with friends. The music and stories I create have built this judgement-free safe zone. But most of all, they have inspired me to be comfortable with myself, and to let them in. They unintentionally gave me a gift that I am forever grateful for. Most of my music isn’t necessarily about heartbreak or other people, but more so everyone’s personal journey and falling in love with yourself.

I think that’s why my fans and I relate to each other. My music reassures them that they aren’t alone – that their feelings are valid, that they are enough and they will find someone to love them back. I didn’t have that hope growing up, so I get emotional and inspired (or encouraged) every time I meet a fan who looks at me that way.

It’s hard sometimes, especially after this election, because I feel a responsibility to these girls. I know they are looking to me for guidance and comfort. It breaks my heart that fear is so present in our world right now. School is hard enough and it breaks my heart to see these kids under attack by hate crimes and bullying.

Hope. That’s my cause. I strive to inspire hope through human compassion and through music. Hope leads me through my lyrics, stories, and melodies. You must continue on, and know in your heart you are not alone, and have confidence that love will find its way back to you.

Enemies to Lovers meme

WARNING: Some phrases are toxic and can be taken as possessive behavior!

  • “This changes nothing… I’m still me, even if I’m with you.”
  • “That kiss… did you really mean it?”
  • “No one has to know about us, I know this could ruin you.”
  • “Yes, I love you, but I can’t ignore everything you did in the past.”
  • “Listen. We have to move on. Past is past, what we have now is everything.”
  • “Are you messing with me, because if you didn’t mean what you said, I will kill you.”
  • “Was that ‘just a fuck?’ I don’t think so.”
  • “You don’t have to say you love me. No one means it anyway.”
  • “Just let me love you, and you can pretend to love me. I don’t mind.”
  • “Don’t leave me now, I can’t bare it. We can go back to hating each other if it makes it easier, just don’t leave me.”
  • “I don’t expect you to change. I don’t want you to.”
  • “People will talk. Let them. Their opinions mean nothing to me.”
  • “It’s us against the world now, isn’t it?”
  • “Every time you kiss someone else, you’ll be thinking of me, I know it.”
  • “If fighting tells a person’s true nature, than no one knows you better than me.”
  • “If anyone lays a hand on you, I’ll break their every finger.”
  • “Nothing like years of unbridled hatred to make for the best sex you ever had.”
  • “I’ve wanted you for so long, I could never say before.”
  • “I can’t go back to the way things were before, being with you changed everything.”
  • “We can pretend that nothing happened last night,  but it did. And now we have a choice to make.”
  • “You know every time you made me angry, I fantasized about you… “
  • “I don’t regret one single moment, not one. It led me to you.”
  • “I guess this means we belong to each other now, hm?”
  • “If anyone tries to talk me out of this, I won’t hear them. I promise.”
  • “Are you sure you want this? There’s no going back now.”
  • “If you break my heart, I will deny everything and erase you.”
  • “This may be the worst decision I ever made, I don’t know. But we have to see if we can work.”
Disney Song Starters:
  • “I think it’s time you and I arranged a heart to heart.”
  • “Check the grin, you’re in love.”
  • “The cold never bothered me anyway.”
  • “Reindeer are better than people.”  
  • “At least out loud I won’t say I’m in love.”
  • “Hey, [NAME], not in front of the kids!!”
  • “Don’t try to hide it.”
  • “Life’s full of tough choices, isn’t it?”
  • “Too bad you’re gonna miss the girl/boy.”
  • “I don’t see you anymore.”
  • “If you walk the footsteps of a stranger, you’ll learn things you never knew.”
  • “Help me not to make a fool of me.”
  • “Let me share this whole new world with you.”
  • “When did you last let your heart decide?” 
  • "You think the earth is just a dead thing you can claim.”
  • “You think the only people who are people are the people who look and think like you.”
  • “Why is my reflection someone I don’t know?”
  • “Hold your breath, it gets better.”
  • “I steal only what I can’t afford.”
  • “I can take a hint.”
  • “You’re my only friend [NAME].”
  • “I think it’s time you and I arranged a heart to heart.”
  • “I’m a sensitive soul, though I seem think skinned.”
  • “Hey, [NAME], not in front of the kids!!”
  • “Don’t try to hide it.”
  • “I’m a sensitive soul, though I seem thick skinned.”
  • “I’d blame parents except he/she/you/I haven’t got them.”
  • “Life’s full of tough choices, isn’t it?”
  • “Too bad you’re gonna miss the girl/boy.”
  • “Can you feel the love tonight?”
  • “Why was I a fool in school for cutting gym?”
  • “She/he don’t got a lot to say but there’s something about her/him.”  
  • “They weren’t kidding when they’d call me, well, a witch.”
  • “Don’t underestimate the importance of body language.”
  • “Now I really wish that I knew how to swim.”
  • “Go ahead, make your choice.”
  • “You/I don’t know why, but you’re/I’m dying to try. You/I wanna kiss the girl/boy.”
  • “Poor unfortunate souls in pain, in need.”
  • “Look at this stuff. Isn’t it neat?”
  • “I won’t say I’m in love.”
  • “I wanna be where the people are.”
  • “Wish I could be part of that/your world.”
  • “I’m ready to know what the people know.”
  • “We feel a lot like cattle.”
  • “Our aching feet aren’t easy to ignore.”
  • “The only girl who’d love him is his mother.”
  • “If I were truly to be myself, I would break my family’s heart.”
  • “Must there be a secret me I’m forced to hide?”
  • “I can go the distance.”
  • “When will my reflection show who I am inside?”
  • “You’re the saddest bunch I’ve ever met.”
  • “Say goodbye to those who knew me.”
  • “Heed my every order and you might survive.”
  • “If there’s a prize for rotten judgement, I guess I’ve already one that.”
  • “Face it like a grown up.”
  • “Get off my case!”
  • “I won’t accept defeat.”
  • “I cannot hide who I am, though I’ve tried.”
  • “I have often dreamed of a far off place.”
  • “Don’t let them know.”
  • “It’s time to see what I can do.”
  • “I wanna be like you.”
  • “Well, I’ve seen worse.”
  • “I reached the top and had to stop and that’s what’s bothering me.”
  • “Do you want to build a snowman?”
  • “I’m right out here for you, just let me in.”
  • “You’ll bring honor to us all.”
  • “This is what you give me to work with?”  
“I’m just asking this one thing of you.” Her voice was calm, but it wasn’t enough to cover the storm that raged inside of her. He already knew what she was going to ask. To be frank, he’d been waiting for it, had thought it’d happen every time they locked eyes. But she’d given him the silent treatment, waiting for him to make the first move and explain. He hadn’t caved in, not to the coldness in her eyes or the stubborn tilt of her jaw. Yet. Apparently she’d run out of patience.
“Why do you keep pushing me away? Be honest with me.” Honest. That word alone drove a hundred needles into his skull. If there was one thing he sucked at, it was honesty, especially if it concerned people he loved. Especially if it led to him admitting to a weakness. Admitting to fear.
“Every time I think I managed to get through to you, it’s like you never heard me at all. It’s like you don’t even try to listen. You’re not making an effort.” How very wrong she was but that too was something she could not know. Something he could not say out loud because words had a funny way of backfiring and making things even worse.
“You’re right. I’m not making an effort. I don’t want to. I don’t care.” Her face fell and his heart sank. What kind of person was he to protect his own skin, to let her put her heart on the line and not give anything in return?
“I think you do,” she said quietly. “I think you see where this is going and you’re scared so you’re trying to make me leave on my own. But I won’t. I won’t leave you no matter how often you push me away.”
“You want me to be honest?” She nodded and straightened, throwing her shoulders back. Every inch of her was attentive.
“I fall in love hard and fast. It takes as much time for me to fall out of love. I open my heart, I get attached, everything is fine until it isn’t. Until someone ends up breaking my heart or I break theirs and it always ends in fights and screams and tears and I’m sick of it.” Without noticing his hands had balled into fists. Heat rose in his cheeks. Never had he meant to lose control like this. His tone softened. “If I don’t risk anything, I don’t lose. That’s it. It’s not your fault.”
She reached for his hand and squeezed, gentle but firm.
“But you don’t know how it ends before you start, do you? You cannot possibly know.” Every part of him wanted to pull away, had to pull away, but he couldn’t. He’d been running for so long, struggling so hard, twisting and winding and always escaping. But he was tired. His very soul was tired.
“Because if you don’t risk anything, you can’t win, either,” she whispered, pulling him closer and closer until the only thing he wanted to be was honest with her. Until he no longer wanted to escape.
—  I’ll risk it for you / n.j.
I don’t hate you for breaking my heart multiple times. I hate myself for letting you do it. I gave you my heart when you gave yours to everyone else. I watched you slip through my fingers and fall into another girls hands. I hate that I let you use me as a way to make yourself feel better when she left you. But for once I finally felt loved and to be loved by you was a wonderful feeling, even if it wasn’t real. Your love was only skin deep and for that I apologize for my mistakes. Now I get to call you friend and act like everything is okay. I have to pick you up when you break and I have to let you be there for me when I hit rock bottom. I have to sit on the sidelines while I watch you make out with another girl. My heart aches but I don’t show it. I stumble for words every time I see your eyes and you… you let me fall. Your eyes are the oceans I cease to explore, because while I’m drowning, you’re saving a girl who knows how to swim.
—  averageteenlove 

He was great. We shared many great moments. Our physical connection was never in question. He kissed me within an hour of meeting me and I let him. I thought that it could be a great story that we tell other people one day, not knowing that maybe moving too fast doomed us from the start. Our emotional connection, on the other hand, is something that I always questioned. The only time he allowed me a glimpse into his heart is at three in the morning, when we would talk all night, not needing sleep, only each other, even though he has to be up at eight for work. I feel him smiling against my face. His heart beating against my chest. His thumbs caressing my fingers. His hand rubbing my bare back. These are the little moments that I will keep close to me. These are the moments before everything good about us slipped away.


He was charming and confident and he created an environment where I felt safe to grow. He taught me many things about life and I will always care for him in that sense. And although my relationship with him was exhilarating, there was a dark and twisted side that was always lurking.He was able to flash a smile at me and charmed me into changing my morals for him. To the point where I slid down the door, holding onto my chest, the part where the heart is, and questioned if I am still me. He was able to use his confidence to make me feel small and less than him, to the point where I made excuses to my friends for the ways he treated me. He used my need to feel alive to suck the innocence and what little naivety I had left.


And the more nights we spent together, the colder I felt. The more he withdraw, the more I needed his warmth. It was a sick relationship based on my fear of spending my nights alone and his fear of commitment and missing out on everything life has to offer did not make things easier. 


Of course it hurts to see things changed. Of course it hurts to remember all of the tender moments we had. And of course, my heart breaks every time I compare the beginning to now. I will never understand how someone wakes up one day and decides that they don’t care anymore. He used to pull me closer to him during the middle of the night to kiss my forehead. Now all he does is cowered me into the corner and throw words at me, that he claims he does not mean the next day. And I hate myself for never having the strength to leave him in that moment. So I lay down in the same bed next to him, facing the opposite direction, leaving inches between us. And I hate myself for still wanting his arms around me.

—  He trapped me in the environment he created and it took me a while to find my way out of the maze. And sometimes, I wonder if I am really out.
Forbidden Love | Pt. 6

▷ Jimin Angst

❥ “I think about you a little more than I should..”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Epilogue

Chuckling sarcastically, Jimin held his phone up in front of your eyes. “Look, you’re precious husband just texted me. He seems really worried about you. Don’t let him wait, you shouldn’t be talking to an useless person like me, Y/N.”

Not glancing at his phone, you tried to reach out for his hand but stopped when you saw how he backed away from you. “No, wait Jimin! I’m sorry-”

“Why are you doing this, Y/N?”

“What am I doing, Jimin?”

“Every time we see each other, you say that it’s the last time you’ve spent time with me. Then, after a couple of days, you come back, lie down in my arms as if nothing had happened and make me the happiest person in the world. Y/N, you make me fly again and then in a flash, you slam me back onto the ground every single time..”

Sadly, you looked into his eyes. He looked hurt, disappointed and broken. Seeing him like that, you wanted to wrap your arms around his body and tell him that you were sorry, that it breaks your heart to see him hurt like that because of you and that you loved him more than he could ever imagine.

“I don’t want to hurt anymore. I don’t want to cry anymore because of you, Y/N. Don’t come to me anymore. Don’t come to me whenever you’re sad or whenever you need someone to sleep with, Y/N. I don’t want to be your replacement anymore..”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. “Jimin, I love yo-”

Right before you could end your sentence, you heard someone clapping slowly. Turning your head to the sound, you locked your eyes with your husband and froze the minute you saw him approaching you both with a smirk plastered on his face.

Standing in front of you both, Taehyung glanced from you to Jimin, his hands now tucked into his pockets. “Wow, what a heartbreaking love story! I’m impressed!”

Not knowing what to say, you looked at Jimin and realized that he was looking at your husband with hateful eyes and a clenched jaw.

“Y/N,” hearing your husbands voice, you snapped your head towards him and a shiver went down your spine at the way he looked at you. “tell me, how is he in bed? Is he good? Better than I am? Or would you prefer us both together? Hm? Tell me.”

“Shut the fuck up, Taehyung!” you heard Jimin hiss through his gritted teeth.

Smirking again, Taehyung turned his head to his best friend. “Why? Do you feel uncomfortable? Poor Jiminie, let me tell you one thing. You’re missing out, my friend.”

You saw how Jimin clenched his hands beside his body. “What the fuck are you trying to say, Taehyung?! Just spit it out!”

Glancing at you once, Taehyung crossed his arms in front of his chest and clicked with his tongue. Turning his head back to his friend, he tilted his head slightly as he smirked at him and said the words that made you feel like you’ve been shot by a gun in the head.

“I must say, your wife is pretty good in bed too, my dear friend.”

Read the fucking Iliad. Pretty please.

I love the fandom of ‘The song of Achilles’, or in general anyone who ships Patrochilles, ok?
Like, if you so much as utter the name ‘Achilles’ or ‘Patroclus’ or, hell, even 'Agamemnon’ in front of me I’ll instantly consider you my friend. Just thinking about the fact that there are other people out there who appreciate the classics makes me happier than a kid on his birthday. But sometimes it SHOCKS me how little people really know about them.
Maybe you’re a fan of Percy Jackson, or just casually passing by and happened to get interested. And I KNOW there is actually no canon, since these are stories that have been written thousands of times and were around for generations and generations long before that. But it breaks my little warmongering heart to see people that are genuine fans, and really into the characters and stories, and yet there is SO MUCH MORE they could know and don’t. Every time people talk about their Patroclus headcanon of him being a sweet cinnamon roll I want to yell at them: “Your headcanon is fantastic, and beautiful and sweet but DID YOU KNOW that in the Iliad Patroclus is actually the second strongest man of the Myrmidons and slaughters dozens of warriors before it takes FUCKING APOLLO’s intervention to stop him?”
There are so many other possibilities, so many other roads that the ancient tried while you know nothing about it. They were the first fanfiction writers, the first shippers, so you might as well lern from the best.
If after discovering that Homer’s Achilles was not exactly a feminine and delicate boy you decide you don’t like that, and that a pretty blond teen suits you better than a bloodthirsty warrior, I can very well respect that, and might even agree with you. But if you never read these masterpieces you’ll never know what you’re missing out on.

3

This particular scene is not discussed often and I want to share it today.

I will tell you that it breaks my heart every time I see it. You can see the sadness in Rey and Finn, but what is interesting is how Rey gets increasingly angry. She doesn’t want him to go, and what should be noted, she was not going to let him. Of course, this is all happening before Finn’s heartfelt confession.

Rey: You can’t just go. I won’t let you.

Finn: I’m not who you think I am.

…Then you can hear Rey’s voice slightly breaking…

Rey: Finn, what are you talking about?

I think it’s their best scene in The Force Awakens. It sealed the potential of romance between them. The music even hinted at it.

Soo… I saw Rogue One again last night on IMAX. Some random thoughts:


In the bunker while little Jyn waits for someone to get her, in the low glow of the lantern light, you can see her silent tears rolling down her face. At eight, she learned how to cry silently. I imagine that, until she saw her father’s holo on Jedha, from eight until twenty-two, it was the only way she ever cried if she cried at all: alone and without a sound.

I’ve been pronouncing Chirrut’s name wrong for months now. I’ve seen this movie twice before. His name is not a text post. What the hell is wrong with me?

You can see how much Jyn and Saw cared for each other when they reunite on Jedha. There’s a lot of hurt, but also a lot of love that never went away.

The looks on Baze and Bodhi’s faces when they see NiJedha destroyed breaks my heart. You see it pass through their eyes: their home is gone, everyone they ever knew is now dead; incinerated.

I got chills every time Cassian shouted “JYN!” because this guy has no chill and I love it.

Jyn lashes out at Cassian after Eadu because he has lied to her and had intended to kill her father, but it strikes me that the hurt is amplified because up until then, she has trusted him more than she has trusted anyone else in almost a decade. And like in the novel, she doesn’t just feel like he lied to her–many people have lied to her–she feels betrayed because he mattered, and he’s shown that she matters to him somehow, too.

The first time I watched it, I was totally in the uncanny valley with Tarkin. Less so the second time, and this third time, I was like oh yeah, that’s cool, that looks fine.

TARKIN IS TALL. I never noticed this before, but he’s a giant. After we got home from the movie, we put on A New Hope and yep, Tarkin was always super tall, but he looked average sized because he was always standing next to Darth Vader who is a giant.

The lack of personal space, oh my gawd. I mean I noticed it the last two viewings and obviously during all the times I stared moonily into the various gifsets, but seeing it on IMAX, like whoa. They’re six inches away from each other practically every time they speak. One stumble and they’re making out. WHY DID THEY NOT STUMBLE EVER? STUPID SURE-FOOTED REBELS.

Ben Medelsohn nails the look of terror when Krennic meets Vader. By all accounts from the Rogue One press tour, he was legit terrified when he shot those scenes, and it shows, and it’s perfect.

Felicity Jones is fucking amazing in this part and I’m literally the fight me emoji (ง'̀-‘́)ง to all the haters because if all you want is obvious scenery-chewing to represent deep emotion, then get out of my face you clowns.

By the time we get to “welcome home,” Jyn and Cassian are so into each other, like, I cannot even.

Oh, Bodhi. You were key to all of this. Your bravery was the first domino to fall. Without you, none of this would have happened. And then, taking charge on Rogue One. Giving orders. What a change from the shell-shocked, post-Bor Gullet Bodhi on Jedha. Galen would have been proud of you, too.

When Baze smiles my heart melts a little bit and then I die inside because he’ll be dead soon, too.

“Your Father Would Be Proud” kicks in as soon as Cassian saves Jyn from Krennic on the tower, and I was barely holding my shit together right then and there.

THE LOOKS IN THE TURBOLIFT LIKE WTF CAN I JUST FREEZE TIME AND LIVE IN THAT MOMENT FOREVER? OK. THANKS. I THINK I’M PREGNANT NOW?

Jyn and Cassian walking to the beach is like peak handsomeness and beauty. Goddamit, Diego and Felicity. And goddamit, Gareth Edwards, you done good.

THE HUG ON THE BEACH IN IMAX PLZ SEND HELP.

Every single one of them died knowing that they had completed their piece of the mission. Bodhi patched through to the Alliance. Baze and Chirrut turned on the master switch. Kaytoo helped Jyn and Cassian get the data file. Jyn and Cassian successfully transmitted the plans. But none of them never knew for sure if the Alliance got the plans. They’d never know that the Death Star would be destroyed. They’d never know that they were all parts in the sum of the whole. But they all died knowing they gave it everything they had to give.

2

Demons in the Dark

Pairing: Moc!Dean x reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff if you squint real hard

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N:  Trying desperately to wrap up my 30 days of Jensen and Dean. This is fic number TWENTY-SIX. The line requested was, “I guess that’s what I do. Let down the people I love.” by @plaidstiel-wormstache I know you asked for fluff, and you’ll get it after we muddle through a bit of angst. I apologize, love, but thanks for celebrating with me! This idea popped into my head after seeing THIS gifset. Season 9, Mark of Cain, Dean breaks my heart. He holds a piece of my heart. I had to write this after seeing that gifset. He had to know he wasn’t alone that the things he told himself in the dark, were absolutely and utterly untrue.

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hello! so a lot of people have been relating to what I said this morning, about not getting asks. and it does break my heart knowing people are in the same boat as me; seeing others get asks, but not/barely getting any ourselves. 

so, what I would like everyone do is, take ten minutes, every week, and just compliment a few blogs, anonymously or not. it can be anyone. someone you think is not appreciated enough, someone you see often in your activity, someone you see on your dash a lot, anyone. take a little time, and send them something nice; it can be a “i like your icon!” or an entire paragraph. your choice. but I think we should spread some positivity around to as many people as possible and make them feel welcomed 💖

In case you’re wondering why I haven’t told you

It’s because of the look you gave me when you asked what the new soap I’d bought was and I hesitated before replying, “It’s called Gender Bender.” You then passive-aggressively bought me 24 new bars of soap in an assorted package, which I am not yet halfway through.

It’s because of the joke you made about “pretending to be a tranny to get a discount” in the car on the way to get haircuts one Saturday morning.

It’s because of the way I watched your face when I was talking to you in the bathroom this morning when you noticed I, your female child with short hair and a flat chest, was wearing a shirt that said, “#1 Dad” on it as a joke. I saw the look in your eyes like a warning.

It’s because of the way you asked my older sister if I was interested in that boy I brought over to play video games instead of going to prom. “He’s kind of weird,” you told her, “but I just want her to like a boy.” And when my sister, who knows, asked, “What if she doesn’t?” you replied, “I’m her mother, I’m allowed to have a preference, that’s all.”

It’s because of one of the many times I was visiting my dad in New Hampshire when he said, “Oh, when we were together, your mother hated gay people. And your grandmother can’t stand them, either.”

It’s because of the way you opened my sister’s mail and saw that she had registered herself as a democrat. A few weeks later, we were out to dinner with one of your friends, and you said, “And I’ve told Jaimie, if she’s going to register as a democrat, not to say anything. Her sister I’m not sure about, but I have confidence that Jaimie should at least wisen up before long.” And I kept quiet because you told me not to say anything.

It’s because of the day we went school shopping in the summer before ninth grade, and when I asked if I could look to buy boy’s jeans, you said, “Like it or not, you’re a woman, and you have a woman’s curves.” I still wanted boy’s jeans, but I told you I’d changed my mind. I still want boy’s jeans, but you think I changed my mind.

It’s because of the way you scrunched your nose when I told you my character in the school musical had been changed from “Kate,” who had one line, to “Ike,” who appeared in several scenes. Instead of congratulating me, you asked why they made me play a boy every year.

It’s because of the nightmares I used to have wherein my aunt, who figured it out on her own, outed me to you, and I got so scared of your response that I woke up with dust clogging my throat.

It’s because of the time my sister looked at our cat and said, “Sometimes I don’t really think of Oscar as a boy cat, he’s kinda in-between sometimes.” And you said, “Well, he is a boy cat.” And you used that tone. I have grown up with the presence of that tone settled in my gut like a rock.

It’s because of the way I sat in my room having a panic attack, huddled in front of my blasting fan because it was too hot and I couldn’t breathe, the first time I tried on my binder (the binder that I bought secretly with my own money three years ago and you still don’t know I have.) If anyone finds out, I thought, what will happen to me?

It’s because of the way I told you I wanted to try living with Dad for awhile and you broke down, wouldn’t talk to me about it, wouldn’t acknowledge that it was happening until it had, and even though I was happier there, even though I had told my dad and his girlfriend within a month of living with them, even though I was more involved with theater and didn’t hate the thought of going to school every morning because I liked this one, even though I had friends that I loved more than anyone I knew back here, in this godforsaken farm town in rural New York, you still made me feel guilty enough about leaving you that I came back anyway.

It’s because of the way that I’m out at school, that I don’t care if anyone there knows that I’m not a girl or a boy, or that I like both girls and boys, and there I’m loud, and there I’m happy, but as soon as I get home I’m quiet as a mouse because I don’t want you to talk to me because you might say something careless, and think nothing of it, but your throwaway comment, to me, is a dagger in my lungs.

It’s because of the look you gave me when I was thirteen and I told you I wanted to be a prince for Halloween.

It’s because of the way you once prefaced your indignation at something sexist with, “I’m NOT a feminist, but…”

It’s because of the way my heart spiked with panic when we were reviewing my college applications together and I realized I’d marked gender as “prefer not to respond” and quickly scrolled past it.

It’s because of what I imagine you would say if you found out that I have signed up to live in gender-neutral housing for my freshman year on campus, and that I will not let any of my roommates believe I am a girl.

And if you’re wondering why I haven’t let you read anything I’ve written, it’s because my writing is deeply personal to me, and I don’t want you to know any of my secrets. I don’t want you to know what I think about the world because I know you would disagree and tell me so. I don’t want you to know what I think love should be because you would only be cynical and try to tell me about the real world. I don’t want you to read about my queer heroes because these characters and their stories are important to me, and I feel like if I let you touch them, it would ruin them for me.

It’s because I remember all of these things every time I get close to you.

It’s because I break my own heart thinking about how much I want to love you, but can’t.

If you’re wondering why I haven’t told you I’m queer, and why I never will, it’s because I don’t trust you. And when I start my own life, and I live on my own, I will not care who knows, and I will not care if you find out, because once I am out, I will be far away, and I won’t have to see that look on your face ever again.

Dentists

Warnings: Fluffffffffffff

Word Count: 1304

A/n: Just rlly inexcusably cheesy. Like this is not okay. I am persONALLY ashamed by the amount of fluff.

Originally posted by xratherbeyou

You huffed, crossing and uncrossing your legs again as you leaned back in the tiny, uncomfortable chair. Three things you hated the most were doctors, strange drills, and people poking and prodding you and dentistry combined all of those things into one extremely-sanitized, linoleum-floored, overly-expensive hell. Even just sitting in the waiting room was giving making you feel sick.

How long did it even take to remove wisdom teeth? When Peter, your best friend, had asked you to drive him to the dentist for his appointment, you thought it would be a simple half hour affair but it had been an hour and a half now and he still wasn’t out. You supposed it was because he had waited so long to take them out, but still, it wasn’t that difficult was it?

“Excuse me, Miss?”

You started as a stout man walked towards you, his blue nurse’s scrubs swishing as he walked briskly towards you.

“Yes?”

“You are here with Mr. Maximoff, correct?”

“Yeah, is he alright?” You frowned, were there complications? That would be bad, right?

“Yes he’s fine, don’t worry. Dr. Carlyle just thought that, because it’s taking so long you might want an update.”

“Oh, okay.” You breathed out in relief.

“Peter has all but one wisdom tooth out. His body fought the anesthesia in the beginning, more than any patient I’ve ever seen. His metabolism must be extremely high. Anyways, we upped the dosage which did the trick. He should be out in around ten minutes, but because of the high dosage, he might act a little more out of it than our other patients.”

“Alright, thank you.”

You sat back down, fiddling with your fingers. At least nothing bad happened, he was alright. But then again, there was no telling what Peter might do on all those drugs.

It was another fifteen minutes before Peter came out, a nurse pushing him on a wheelchair with slight difficulty as Peter’s head lolled against the back of the chair, an absent smile glazed across his face.

“Y/n… Is that you?” The silver-haired boy slurred as he craned his neck to see you from where his head was positioned.

“Yes, Peter, it’s me.”

“Aw.” Peter chuckled. “Yes.” He did a small fist pump as you thanked the nurse, taking Peter from him.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes that you’re here. I thought that bald-guy was gonna take me to his home.” He stuttered, jerking a thumb at the nurse. “But now I’m gonna go home with you.”

You smiled, thanking the people at the desk before promptly leaving, letting out a breath of a relief as the door shut behind you.

“So,” You began pushing Peter towards your car, drumming your fingers on the chair’s handles. “How do you feel?”

“Feeling scared.” He held the armrests tighter. “You’re going too fast!”
“What?” You slowed your walk to a crawl.

“Slow down, you’re gonna kill me, woman!” Peter leaned back in the seat, his knuckles white with the strain of gripping the armrests. This was going to be a long day.

After much struggle and more sweat than you’d like to admit, you had successfully made it to the car. Peter sat in the passenger’s seat, looking out the window, his eyes glazed over slightly.

“Hey, Y/n?”

“Yeah, Peter?” You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel, turning into the driveway of the mansion.

“Do you think cars have feelings?”

“What?”

“Like, do cars have-” He waved his hands, wiggling his fingers slightly. “Feelings?”

“Um, I-”

“No!” He raised a finger to your mouth. “Shh. Shhhhhhhhhhhh.”

“I-”

“Cause, uh, I was thinking like, you know when it’s really hot and you turn on the air conditioning so that you don’t die of heat stroke?” He feigned fainting, collapsing against the window and throwing his feet up on the dashboard. “Do you think it hurts the car? I always felt bad, what if it was too much for the car? What if we’re overworking the car, pushing past its limit?”

He was shouting now, accentuating each word with a punch to the car door.

“Peter, cars are designed to work that hard.” You pulled the car into the garage, the engine growling to a halt “Ok, we’re home!”

Peter jumped, leaning across you and fumbling with the lock a couple of times before pressing it down, sighing in relief.

“Ha, now I’ve got you trapped and you have to talk with me!”

“Ok. What.”

“Well, after thinking about if cars can feel I thought what if other things have feelings? Like clothes and stuff.”

You hummed, reaching down and leaning your chair back, pulling your legs into cross beneath you.

“I know you have that t-shirt, that red, button down with all the crazy flowers?” A piece of gauze fell out of his mouth and onto the car seat. “That super ugly one?” He shoved a finger in his mouth, struggling to put the gauze back into place.

“Yeah? My cousin gave it to me.” You chewed your bottom lip. “I’ve only worn it once, to that disco party Jubilee threw last year.”

“Ok, ok, but, do you ever think that maybe, maybe it just…” Peter tipped his head back, blinking away tears. “I mean you never wear it! It just wastes away in the back of your closet, watching as all the other clothes get worn, maybe it just wants to be loved?”

“Peter, I-” You bit back a laugh. “Are you crying?”

“Yeah.” Peter whimpered sniffling softly. “Just a little.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for the door handle once more.

“Wait, no!”
Peter launched himself forward, into your lap, his body now sprawled across you.

“Don’t go.”

“Okay, okay!” You held your hands up in surrender. “What is it?”

He looked up at you, his brown eyes the color of amber and coffee as he peered through his thick eyelashes. It was moments like these that always threw you off guard. Times when he looked so effortlessly beautiful, especially when it wasn’t expected.

How could he look so good while so unbelievably doped up? The way his feathery platinum locks fell like silk around his shoulders was almost exquisite. And his whole “I-haven’t-slept-in-two-years” look complimented him even when, based on all scientific reasoning, it shouldn’t.

“Y/n?”

You drank in the way his lips formed so perfectly around your name.

“Yeah?”

Gently, as if he were expensive china, you ran your fingers through his hair, each strand shimmering as the light from outside poured in and washed itself over Peter’s face.

“I know I’m probably gonna regret it in the morning but I’m gonna say it anyways, okay?”

You grinned, tracing your index finger down the side of his face and along his jaw.

“Okay.” You breathed out in a barely audible whisper.

“You make me feel good, like really good. You make the bad days easier and… and there’s been a lot of those lately.” He licked his lips, his cinnamon eyes glued to yours the entire time.

“And whenever I hear something funny, I always look around to see if you think it’s funny too, even when you’re not there. And at night, when I’m cold or alone, I always reach out, expecting you to be there for some reason. When you’re happy, it makes me happy. And when you cried watching that Harry Potter movie the other night, even though I wasn’t watching the movie, seeing you cry, it felt like my heart was breaking.”

You breathed in slowly, scanning his face for any emotion, any sign to tell you where this was going.

“And I can’t help but think the same thing every time I see you.” He smiled reaching up and grasping a strand of hair between his fingers, twisting it slowly.

“I love her.”

Keep reading

Yours to Hold

Jughead x Reader

Jughead is dating Betty,  and the reader is doing everything in their power to make sure that he doesn’t find out they like him. Based on the requested song: Yours to Hold by Skillet.

Warnings: Swearing (like one, again.)

Word Count: 2,240

A/N: This kind of took on a mind of it’s own as I kept writing. I had an idea for this being like super sad but like I never want Jug to be hurt ever so I let my hands write while my mind wandered. I was also thinking about doing a literal interpretation of the lyrics, but I wasn’t feeling that either. This felt right, i guess? It’s more metaphorical. I hope it’s still okay!


i see you standing here

but you’re so far away

starving for your attention

you don’t even know my name

Betty and Jughead had been an official couple for two months. Two months you had to push down your feelings you’ve had for him since grade nine. Two months you couldn’t walk down the hall without trying to avoid eye contact with both of them. Two months of your heart breaking over and over, every time you saw him climb to her window from your house across the street. You never pegged yourself for the girl next door, but here you were anyway. Although you were pretty sure that this time you wouldn’t be getting the guy.  It tore you up inside, always being the one that likes but isn’t liked back. It’s not like you and Jughead were close, you reasoned with yourself, so it’s not like he would’ve known, but you were good enough acquaintances to nod to each other in the hallway or share glances in the classroom when the teacher said something stupid.

You mainly knew Jughead and Betty and Archie through Veronica, your closest friend since she moved here at the end of last summer. You guys were a perfect fit, she needed someone spill her secrets to and you were someone who wouldn’t tell a soul. Who would you have to tell, anyway? The most social interaction you had was when you went to art club, but even then you kept to yourself and your drawings. Your drawings couldn’t hurt you.

What did hurt you, though, is that sometimes, on the best occasion, Jughead would come to you. Well, he would come sit beside you. You would draw in Pop’s diner late at night when you didn’t feel any inspiration from the school studio, so he would come and sit across from you with his laptop to write. It only happened once or twice, but every time it did your stomach started to turn and you couldn’t help but smile as your pencil hit the paper. It only hurt because it didn’t happen every day.

You were at your locker, going through the motions until you could go to the art room at the end of the day, and you were about to get books for your next class when Ronnie saunters up beside you.

“Hey girl, you hear the news?” she asks, her books wrapped in her arms, her bag slung over her shoulder in a way that only she could make fashionable.

“What?” you ask, exchanging the books in your hand for the ones on the top shelf. You grab your sketchbook, secretly filled with drawings and pictures taken of Ronnie’s gang, random kids in the hall, and Jughead. An overwhelmingly abundance of Jughead. You like to observe just like him, you just draw what you see instead of writing it. This sketch book was your version of his novel, which of course you heard about from Ronnie who heard it from Betty.

You probably knew more than you should about them, but whenever Ronnie started talking about them,  you didn’t stop her.

“The stuff about Polly!” she smirks, knowing that she’s just egging you on.

“Polly? Betty’s sister? Why would I care about her?” you ask, closing your locker, your face scrunching up just a bit, books in hand.

“Betty told me that there’s rough water in loveland.” she says, motioning for you to walk with her down the hall.

“Really?” you try to sound disinterested, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Mhmmmm. Betty has been so focused on her sister, and so now Jug has been cancelling plans, not showing up on time…” she trails off, looking over at you as she flips her hair over her shoulders.

“That must be… rough.” you say, unsure of how to respond.

“It’s your chance! I’ve been talking you up to all of them, I think you should make a real effort to get to know them.” she urges, turning to you and putting a hand on your arm. You were at your next class, her class just the next door down.

“You know what happened last time.” you remind her, remembering what happened when she tried to introduce you the last time. You could barely get two words out to any of them, fumbling over sentences and stuttering over the simplest of words. They all laughed it off, but there was definitely an awkward feel hanging in the air, and Jughead didn’t even look up from his laptop.

“I think you’re ready, you’re basically my best friend now, so they have to accept you. And beside, it’s my chance too.” she says, referencing her small crush on Betty as she blows a kiss and walks to her class. You sigh and roll your eyes, hoping that maybe this time she was right. Maybe this time you wouldn’t be the invisible girl in the corner, doodling in her notebook.

you’re going through so much

don’t you know that I could be the one to hold you?

It was movie night at Ronnie’s house. You were in your pajamas, which were just short shorts and a baggy t-shirt, ready to settle in to watch whatever she picked, since it was her turn.

“Did you hear?” she asks, walking in with the popcorn.

“What?” you ask, looking her up and down.

“Jug broke up with Betty.” she says, sitting down and crossing her legs.

“No, no way he would ever do that.” you say, shaking your head. That’s impossible, Jughead was head over heals for her just like you were for him, only difference is that he made his feelings public.

“He did. Betty told me that the reason he gave her was because there was someone else.” she smirks.

“No way, who?” you ask, wondering if it was maybe Josie, or even Ronnie herself.

The doorbell rings before she has a chance to answer.

“Be right back.” she says, setting the popcorn down and raising her eyebrows as she goes to the door.

A few minutes later she comes back with Archie and Jughead.

Your eyes grow wide as you stare down Veronica.
“I thought my boys could join us.” she says nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as she sits down to the left of you.

Archie takes a seat next to Veronica, leaving the only spot open on the right, so of course that’s where Jug sits.

You try to give him a smile without completely embarrassing yourself, and you think you see a smile as he gives you a nod of his head, his eyes lifting to look at the screen.

“Choice of movie?” you ask Ronnie, breaking the tension that had probably only been building in your mind.

“I thought we could let them decide, since they’re new members to movie night.” she says with a smile, looking from Archie to Jughead.

“I don’t know Veronica, I think whatever you pick is probably good enough.” Archie chimes in, pulling his sleeves down as he crosses his arms. It was clear that if Archie didn’t have a crush, he definitely didn’t want to get on Ronnie’s bad side.

“Alright, Titanic it is.” she says with a small laugh, getting up to put in the movie. She then dims the lights and plops right down next to you, giving you a wink as she does.

The movie begins and you sigh in relief. There’s no more talking for at least the next three hours. You lean into the back of the sofa, ready to enjoy the movie when Jughead brushes your shoulder with his. You stiffen. Was that on purpose?

You take a deep breath and begin to relax a little. Just as you do though, Jughead puts his arm around the back of the couch, inches away from your neck.

You glance at Ronnie, wondering if she’s seeing any of this. The smirk on her face says it all. The movie isn’t even 15 minutes in and you can’t seem to stand it anymore. You get up and mumble something about getting a drink, going to her kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. You take a deep breath.

You turn around and run straight into Jughead, spilling water not only all over yourself, but all over him too.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” you manage to get out, scrambling to find where Ronnie keeps her paper towels or washcloths, or anything.

“Don’t worry about it, it fits the theme.” he says, gesturing back towards the screen. You can’t help but chuckle at the comment. Sometimes you forget how funny Jughead can be.

“Yeah I guess so. ‘I’ll never let go, Jack.’” you mimic the movie in a high pitch voice, but still low enough to not disturb your friends in the other room.

“Do you wanna get out of here? I mean Titanic is great and all, but I do not want to be here when they start making out.” he scoffs.

“Who? Rose and Jack?” you question, a look of confusion on your face. You didn’t think that part was so bad.

“No, Archie and Veronica.” he corrects, a smirk playing on his lips, “dinner at Pop’s? You’re buying. It’ll make up for the water damages.”

You turn to notice that Archie has his hand on the back of the couch over Veronica, just like Jughead did with you.

He turns and walks away without another word, going out to his car, you guessed. Only then did you start to panic. Did Jughead Jones just ask you out? Was this backwards upside down reverse april fools day or something?

You grab your backpack and head for the door, only then realizing that you’re still in pajamas. You shake your head at the thought, this wasn’t a date. This was just his lame attempt at finding an excuse to get out of movie night. This would be just like the other times, where you would sit in silence.

you will see someday

that all along the way

i was yours to hold

Sitting in Pop’s on a late Friday night was like a low-key therapy session. You just hoped Ronnie wouldn’t be too mad that you left without telling her, but she seemed preoccupied and you were pretty sure she would understand.

Jughead ordered a burger and a milkshake while you just had a water. You couldn’t risk any food stains getting in your sketchbook.

You pulled out the one you always carried around in your backpack, opening to a blank page before setting it out on the table where he could see. Unlike the last few times, though, he doesn’t pull out his laptop. He doesn’t even have his bag with him.

“No novel tonight?” you question.

He shakes his head as you pull out a pencil. He might not have his novel but you sure as hell weren’t giving up your drawing.

The first pencil stroke to the page and it’s like your hand knew automatically what to do. It went directly to the curves in his hair, the lines on his face. You were just hoping he was too focused on his food to notice.

“I’m sorry about Betty.” you say under your breath, just trying to make conversation.

“Don’t be. I realized I only liked her because she was filling a void.” he states, stirring his straw in his shake. He was trying to be poetic, you could tell.

“Void?” you ask.

“I’ve had a crush on this girl since about grade eight, been real quiet about it, not even Arch knows. We haven’t had many conversations, she seems distant, nose always in a book. I just started hanging out with her more and more recently, though, so I’m hoping I at least get a date.” he explains, hope in his eyes that you don’t see. You’re too focused on the details of his beanie.

“That’s a real quick rebound.” you say, not really paying attention.

“Not if they’ve always been there.” he says. That gets your attention, and your eyes lock with his. Was he talking about you? He couldn’t be, there was no way.

You’re too caught up in your own thoughts you don’t even realize that he’s snatched your sketchbook right from under you.

“Don’t-” you say, a little too late. He’s already looking, and that one page leads to him flipping through all of them. Page after page of his beanie, his hair, his jawline. You probably knew his features better than anyone out there.

“Wow, you really did draw me like one of the french girls.” he remarks, a huge smile on his face. You liked his smile, very much so.

He meets your gaze and sets the book down. There’s something between you, something that wasn’t there before. It was the start of something, just what it was you didn’t know yet, but it was exciting, thrilling, and it made your stomach turn into knots and your heart flutter in your chest.

“I’ve always been there, Jug.” you say, finally letting it out.

“I know,” he says, leaning closer across the table, “and I’m mad at myself for taking so long to realize it.”

Closer and closer still, you close your eyes and try to brace yourself for what’s going to be the most thrilling ride of your life. Sink or swim, this ship was one you wanted to be on.   


Tag list: @always-chocolate   (if you wanna be on my tag list just ask!)

Savior

She found herself in an abandoned warehouse just a few blocks from the run down apartment her father had rented until he gathered the insurance money from their original apartment that had burned down days before. [Y/N] sat with her feet dangling over edge of the catwalk, her body facing the industrial sized window that overlooked the dirty and deserted streets of the city. 

Looking down, she pulled out the pill bottle from her hoodie pocket. Running her fingers over the label, she fought back the tears. Closing her hand over the prescription bottle, she looked out the window and mustered up the courage to uncap the poison in her hand. 

Just as she was about to swallow all the pills, she jumped at the sound of glass shattering below her. She cursed as the oxycodone fell from her fingers and onto the warehouse ground. Standing up, [Y/N] peered over the catwalk and noticed a figure struggling to stand. Her eyes strained to adjust to the dark. Gasping when she caught sight of the famous red and blue, she scrambled off the catwalk and down the stairs to the first floor. 

“Oh my god.” She panted as she made it to the figure. Slowing her steps, she assessed the situation. It was definitely Spiderman, that she knew. What she didn’t know was why he was covered in enough blood to fill up a bathtub. Shrieking when he collapsed onto the ground, she ran to him. 

Kneeling on the hard ground, she propped him up on her knees. She looked down at her hands that were now covered in sticky, wet blood. “Oh god.” [Y/N] shuddered, she hated blood. Clearing her throat, she gently tapped his masked face, “Hey? You with me?” She scanned over the rest of him, her eyes widening at the ripped suit and exposed torso. Her heart rate increased, he wasn’t just covered in blood, it was his own blood. 

“Holy shit. Hey, hey, hey!” [Y/N] shook him slightly, “We need to get you to a hospital!” She pawed at him, struggling to find a cellphone. Finally finding one, she cursed loudly as it slipped from her hands “I need you to stay with me!” Trying to unlock the phone with her blood soaked fingers, she screamed when he grabbed her forearm. Leaning down, her brows knitted together at the muffled sounds coming from where his mouth was located. “What? I can’t, I don’t know, I can’t understand you.” He continued to mumble with her still unable to understand him. 

Taking in a deep shaky breath, she set down the phone away from the spreading blood puddle. “I can’t understand you with your mask on,” [Y/N] said gently. Biting her lip, she reached for the bottom of his mask. “I have to take your mask off, okay?” Not waiting for him to answer, she gently and slowly revealed the face that laid underneath. [Y/N] gasped softly when she finally removed the cover, her heart sped up even more. How was this possible? 

“Peter?!” [Y/N] cried out. Spiderman was a kid, a teenager? More importantly her lab partner in Chemistry. So many questions rolled through her brain but was quickly cut short when she remembered that she needed to call 911. 

Peter’s eyes fluttered, his mouth moving but very little sounds coming out. “Call Tony, not 911, please.” He croaked out. 

“What? Tony?!” She yelped, who the hell was Tony? “But, you need help!”

“Call……Tony……please.”

[Y/N] started to shake, she could feel his body temperature start to drop. Struggling to find this mysterious Tony number, “Come on, come on. Yes! Okay, come on, please pick up….pick up, come on.”

“Listen, Parker. You better have a damn good reason-”

“-Oh my gosh! Thank god, um, Peter told me to call you. I don’t know why, I should be calling 911. He’s bleeding out….there’s a lot of blood. I don’t know what to do. We need help! Why am I calling you instead of 911, oh my god, I’m so stupid. He’s probably going to die because of this phone call. Oh my god.” 


[Y/N] leaned her head against the frame of the window that showed Peter sleeping soundly in his hospital room. Her hands and arms were free from his blood but the reminder of almost seeing him die in her arms were still soaked into her clothes. 

“Here you go, kid.” 

Standing up straight, she looked up to see Tony hand her a fresh set of clothes. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gave her a pressed smile. “You can get changed over here.” Patting her back, he calmly spoke. “He’ll be here when you get back, I promise. Come on.” 

Reluctantly following Tony, she thanked him and closed the curtain to change. Wincing as she peeled off her clothes, she looked around to find a spot to place them.

“There’s a little washing station off to her left there.” 

Following his direction, she sighed in content to know that she could wash the rest of the blood off. “Um, thank you.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” Tony twirled around, his hands clasped behind his back. “So uh, Peter’s never mentioned you before. Are you two friends?” 

Running a wet towel over her torso, she shook her head even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “No, not really.” Running it over her legs, she sighed again. “We’re just lab partners.”  

“Oh.”

Quickly changing into the fresh clothes, she slid the curtain open. 

“Much better?” He smiled as she nodded.

Guiding them back to Peter’s room, he slowed his steps as he got to the window. It was a close call and Tony was so unbelievably thankful that he made it. 

“He saved me once,” [Y/N] said softly. 

“Hm?” Tony asked, distracted from his thoughts. 

She motioned towards Peter, “He saved me, about two weeks ago.” Hugging herself, she bit her lip. “My apartment building caught on fire and I was stupid enough to go back up the six flights to get something and just as I was about to go back down, the stairs collapsed on me.” [Y/N] met Tony’s eyes, “I never got a chance to thank him and for the past week and a half, I’ve been sitting next to him.” 

“I’m sure he knew,” Tony reassured. Following her gaze to Peter, he frowned, “What were you doing at that warehouse anyway? Seems a bit morbid to be a teen hangout spot.” 

[Y/N] inhaled slowly, “I lost my mom during the battle of New York. We were on our way to see a movie when everything hit the fan. Our taxi got flipped over on its side and the doors were jammed. So, my dad kicked the window out and threw me. I broke a few ribs and my arm but I didn’t feel it at the time because all I could focus on was the fact that there were aliens swarming the city. My mom had suffered a concussion from the wreck and was fading in and out of consciousness so my dad climbed out first to get better leverage. He was a little shaky from it all too so he lost his footing and fell to the ground. I just remember standing there in shock and in panic from it all that I almost didn’t notice the gas leaking from the other cars. I screamed for my dad to hurry but the taxi blew up before he could even stand up to try.” 

Tony stood in silence, his heart breaking. He felt responsible for everything that had happened in New York. And it hurt even more to be standing in front of someone who had lost so much during it all. 

“You asked why I was in the warehouse and the reason was that ever since that day, my dad was never the same. And to a degree, I changed too but he just became so cold. Every time he looked at me, I could see disgust in his eyes. I reminded him so much of the woman he failed to save that he couldn’t even bare to look at me. Abuse isn’t just physical, Mr. Stark. It’s verbal too and every day since then, that was what I had to deal with. Him degrading me as a person, making me see myself in a way that my mother would never let me see myself as. I went to that warehouse tonight to be reunited with my mother. To be reunited with the one person who would have loved me no matter what.” 

Tony inhaled sharply. Nodding, he placed a warm and firm hand on her shoulder. “I tend to be hypocritical at times and this is one of those moments when I say I believe in fate which I normally don’t. But, had you not gone to that warehouse, Peter would be dead. Instead of ending a life, you saved one.” 


Peter’s eyes fluttered open, groaning from the pain, he went to raise his hand to his head but immediately regretted his movement. It felt like he had been hit with a train ten times over. Blinking, his eyes adjusted to the girl sitting in an arm chair with a Chemistry book in her lap. 

“[Y/N]?! What are, what are you doing here?” Panic started to settle into his bones. 

She looked up from her textbook, untucking her legs from underneath her, she set the book down. “You were involved in a serious car accident-”

“-wha?” Peter tried to recall this accident but all he remembered was being seconds from being ripped apart. 

“Peter! You’re awake!” 

“Aunt May?” Peter exclaimed, completely dumbfounded at what was going on. “I don’t understand.” 

Aunt May started to sob, “Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re okay! I was so worried about you.” 

[Y/N] stood up, grabbing her backpack, she smiled. “It’s okay if you don’t remember the car accident, Peter.” Walking over towards him, she gently patted his hand. “You were walking me back to my apartment after our study session when you pushed me out of the way of a speeding car. I can’t thank you enough for saving my life. Hopefully one day I can return the favor.” Just as Aunt May wasn’t looking, she winked and motioned a phone signal with her hand and mouthed call Tony. Turning towards Aunt May, she smiled, “If it’s okay, I’ll leave Peter’s schoolwork with you.” 

Aunt May nodded, tears soaking her eyes. “Of course!” 

Handing it off, she looked at Peter. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll see you around.” 

Peter still dumbfounded, nodded. “Yeah. uh, see you around.” 

Once she left the room, Aunt May wiped away some tears. “I know you’re in pain and everything but she’s cute!” 

I can’t explain the feeling in a way that you can truly grasp how much it hurts me. To be away from you. To wish things were different for us. To long for the day when the distance between you and I is only as far as between the white linen sheets of our brand new king sized bed. I don’t know how to tell you that I feel like I’m missing something when I’m not with you. Like a part of my brain shuts down and can’t function properly or like my lungs give out and I can’t breathe the right air when you’re a country away from me. It’s a physical pain. A type of longing for you that I’ve never been so desperate for. My eyes stay wide when I should be sleeping. My fingers trace my pillow in hope of finding your heartbeat. My ears listen for a dedicated whisper that you love me and don’t want to lose me. My back craves your security from tightly resting your strong body against me. My lips want to gently kiss your rosy nose to sleep. My heart yearns to spill out all the words that I’ve never had the guts to say. And my arms. My arms just want to be wrapped around the only thing that has given me reason to be here. There’s a thousand miles between you and I, and every time I have to walk away in search of border security at the airport and look back to see your truck drive away, I feel a bullet to my heart and a desert in my throat, a sudden inability to walk forward and my slow breathes disappear. Nothing breaks me more than having to carry that feeling with me until the next time I can run into your arms.
—  you’re worth the distance but I need you closer