oh man there is no way i'm going to remember all of your names

“Lemonade” poetry bits

Intuition

I tried to make a home outta you.
But doors lead to trapdoors. A stairway leads to nothing.
Unknown women wander the hallways at night.
Where do you go when you go quiet?
You remind me of my father, a magician. Able to exist in two places at once.
In the tradition of men in my blood you come home at 3AM and lie to me.
What are you hiding? The past, and the future merge to meet us here.
What luck. What a fucking curse.


Denial

I tried to change.
Closed my mouth more.
Tried to be soft, prettier.
Less…awake.

Fasted for 60 days.
Wore white.
Abstained from mirrors.
Abstained from sex.
Slowly did not speak another word.

In that time my hair grew past my ankles.
I slept on a mat on the floor.
I swallowed a sword.
I levitated… into the basement, I confessed my sins and was baptized in a river.
Got on my knees and said, “Amen.” And said I mean. I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet.
I threw myself into a volcano.
I drank the blood and drank the wine.
I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God.
I crossed myself and thought… I saw the devil.
I grew thickened skin on my feet.
I bathed…in bleach and plugged my menses with pages from the Holy Book.
But still inside me coiled deep was the need to know.
Are you cheating? Are you cheating on me?


Anger

If this what you truly want.
I can wear her skin…over mine.
Her hair, over mine.
Her hands as gloves.
Her teeth as confetti.
Her scalp, a cap.
Her sternum, my bedazzled cane.
We can pose for a photograph.
All three of us, immortalized.
You and your perfect girl.

I don’t know when love became elusive.
What I know is no one I know has it.
My father’s arms around my mother’s neck.
Fruit too ripe to eat.

I think of lovers as trees…
…growing to and from one another.
Searching for the same light.
Why can’t you see me? Why can’t you see me? (Why can’t you) Why can’t you see me? Everyone else can.


Apathy

So what are you gonna say at my funeral now that you’ve killed me?

Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. Here lies the mother of my children both living and dead. Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted, most bomb pussy, who because of me, sleep evaded. Her shroud is loneliness.

Her God was listening.
Her heaven would be a love without betrayal.
Ashes to ashes…dust to side chicks.


Emptiness

She sleeps all day…dreams of you in both worlds.

Tills the blood in and out of uterus. Wakes up smelling of zinc.
Grief, sedated by orgasm.
Orgasm heightened by grief.
God was in the room when the man said to the woman, “I love you so much. Wrap your legs around me and pull me in, pull me in, pull me in.”
Sometimes when he’d have her nipple in his mouth, she’d whisper, “Oh my God.” That, too, is a form of worship.
Her hips grind pestle and mortar, cinnamon and cloves, whenever he pulls out.

Loss.
Dear moon, we blame you for floods…for the flush of blood…for men who are also wolves. We blame you for the night, for the dark, for the ghosts.

Every fear…
Every nightmare…anyone has ever had.


Accountability

You find the black tube inside her beauty case.
Where she keeps your father’s old prison letters.
You desperately want to look like her.
You look nothing like your mother.
You look everything like your mother.
Film star, beauty.
How to wear your mother’s lipstick.
You go to the bathroom to apply the lipstick.
Somewhere no one can find you.
You must wear it like she wears disappointment on her face.
Your mother is a woman.
And women like her can not be contained.

Mother dearest, let me inherit the Earth.
Teach me how to make him beg.
Let me make up for the years he made you wait.
Did he bend your reflection?
Did he make you forget your own name?
Did he convince you he was a God?
Did you get on your knees daily?
Do his eyes close like doors?
Are you a slave to the back of his head?
Am I talking about your husband or your father?


Reformation

He bathes me…
…until I forget their names…and faces.
I ask him to look me in the eye when I come…home.
Why do you deny yourself heaven?
Why do you consider yourself undeserving?
Why are you afraid of love? You think it’s not possible for someone like you.
But you are the love of my life…love of my life…the love of my life…the love of my life.


Forgiveness

Baptize me…
…now that reconciliation is possible.
If we’re gonna heal, let it be glorious.
One thousand girls raise their arms.

Do you remember being born?

Are you thankful?
Are the hips that cracked…
…the deep velvet of your mother…
…and her mother…
…and her mother?
There is a curse that will be broken.


Resurrection

You are terrifying…
…and strange…
…and beautiful.


Hope

The nail technician pushes my cuticles back…
…turns my hand over, stretches the skin on my palm and says:
“I see your daughters, and their daughters.”
That night in a dream the first girl emerges from a slit in my stomach.
The scar heals into a smile.
The man I love pulls the stitches out with his fingernails.
We leave black sutures curling on the side of the bath.
I wake as the second girl crawls headfirst up my throat.
A flower blossoming out of the hole in my face.


Redemption

Take one pint of water, add a half pound of sugar, the juice of eight lemons…
…the zest of half lemon.
Pour the water from one jug, then into the other, several times.
Strain through a clean napkin.

Grandmother, the alchemist.
You spun gold out of this hard life.
Conjured beauty from the things left behind.
Found healing where it did not live.
Discovered the antidote in your own kitchen.
Broke the curse with your own two hands.
You passed these instructions down to your daughter.
Who then passed it down to her daughter.

My grandma said, nothing real can be threatened.
True love brought salvation back into me.
With every tear came redemption.
And my torturer became my remedy.

So we’re gonna heal, we’re gonna start again.
You’ve brought the orchestra.
Synchronized swimmers, you are the magician.
Pull me back together again the way you cut me in half.
Make the woman in doubt disappear.
Pull the sorrow from between my legs like silk, knot after knot after knot.
The audience applauds…
…but we can’t hear them.


Warsan Shire

comprehensive analysis of sam & cap meeting for the first time
  • ‘oh hey look how fast i can run look how fast and cool i am look at me’
  • cap is wearing a t shirt 2 sizes 2 small that may as well be soaking wet come the fuck on cap put on some fucking clothes
  • i can’t hear anything steve is saying over his flexing
  • ‘what unit u with? where u work? what’s ur name? u got a boyfriend? where yo boyfriend at?’
  • flimsy excuse to hold hands (’oh help me up from this tree i’m so tired i can’t possibly get up by myself’)
  • sam immediately all ‘must be weird coming home after the whole defrosting thing’ like wow personal much? buy a guy a drink first
  • steve is like ‘uh ya it’s weird that’s personal buy a guy a drink first’ and goes to leave
  • sam: -anguished expression- oh god i fucked it up
  • sam:

damn it sam save it! save it! don’t let him go! -says the first thing that pops into his head-

  • steve like

‘what the fuck buy a guy several drinks first?’

  • sam: your bed, it’s too soft. when I was over there I’d sleep on the ground, use rocks for pillows, like a caveman.

steve:

  • what
  • sam: -explains what the fuck he’s talking about, beds are too soft, etc etc etc’
  • steve: ohhhh the marshmallow bed thing? ya i get that. fucking soft beds right haha -is apparently into the whole caveman thing-
  • sam: nice, saved it -high fives self-
  • steve: -demonstrates how Knowledgeable he is and how much Perspective he has and how Funny he can be’ we use to boil everything!!!!
  • steve literally sounds like one of those beauty queens having a question sprung on her that she didn’t expect
  • ‘Miss New York how does the world of today compare to the days of world war 2??? 30 seconds on the clock’
  • ‘no polio is good’
  • ….’no polio is good’….
  • ‘we used to boil everything!!!’
  • somehow sam is still cool with this. it’s probably bc steve has mouth-watering melon pecs
  • Sam Makes His Move

you can tell this is his Move. he tells this to all the ladies. there’s no way you can get someone listening to marvin gaye and not get laid instantaneously

  • steve doesn’t know what the fuck sam is talking about but this is a great excuse to show off his arms by pulling out his little notebook

are you looking at those arms sam?? bc i am

  • btw
  • this

this is the face of a man who is DTF

  • ‘Miss New York, what are the most significant historical events and cultural changes that have occurred since world war two?? 30 seconds on the clock’
  • ‘uhh…. I Love Lucy. Moon Landing. Berlin wall… up and down. Steve Jobs…. apple….???? Disco. Definitely. Thai food. Star Wars and Trek. Nirvana… I’m pretty sure that’s a band. Rocky and Rocky 2. And whatever this guy just told me. idk I’ll look it up on the Google later’
  • ‘all right Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run…… if that’s what you want to call running.’
  • ‘Oh, that’s how it is??’
  • ‘Ohhh that’s how it is.’
  • this is better flirting than i have ever implemented in my nearly ten long years after hitting puberty
  • ‘Hey anytime you want to stop by my place of employment that I told you explicitly within minutes of meeting you but now I’m bringing up again to make sure you remember where I work and where to find me again, make out with me me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know’
  • Steve: hella B)
  • nat: -rolls up-
  • nat:
Huntress in the Snow

What if Rhys had met Feyre back when she was still a little girl, alone in the woods and hunting for her family? Inspired by this beautiful work of art, here’s the hypothetical meeting between an abused, tired Rhysand and a tiny Feyre.

 

Rhysand rarely leaves Amarantha’s court Under the Mountain.

He rarely leaves her bedroom, for that matter. Life is just a frenzy of lies, sex, dancing, drinking, hatred and torture these days and he has long given up on making his existence bearable. He doesn’t really care anymore.

He doesn’t care for the stares they give him, the names. He doesn’t care for those pitying glances. He doesn’t care when Amarantha is straddling him, using him, her fingers pulling his hair.

Spring Court is covered in masks right now, but Rhysand might as well be wearing one, too. He doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore. He murmurs things in her ears, he lies, promises, he kills on her behalf, he smirks and laughs and betrays, and he isn’t sure he can ever get back from that.

He’s doing it for Velaris and his beloved ones. That is what he tells himself, over and over and over again, when he’s buried inside her or when he snaps someone’s neck. It’s the only reason he’s still holding on. Velaris. Mor. Amren. His brothers. His court.

Court of Dreams. It’s like a bitter joke, ashes in his mouth. He doesn’t know if he will ever see them again. Doesn’t know if he wants to- after what he’s done.  

He probably won’t ever see them again. This nightmare will never end.

Life is miserable. Rhys doesn’t care.

With the way things are developing right now, his old enemy Tamlin is going to join them in a few years- 42 years have passed and that fool, that idiotic fool hasn’t managed to break the curse. If he realizes that he could save them all, Rhysand doesn’t know. Perhaps Tamlin is just trying to protect those he loves as well. Perhaps he’s trying- perhaps he’s fighting.

Perhaps he’s not.

Rhysand doesn’t care.

He also doesn’t care that Amarantha sends him to the human realm today. To find a group of fae from Dawn Court that have escaped; find them, bring them to her, watch her torture and kill them and fuck her afterwards. It’s nothing to him. He’ll play his part. He’ll be urgent and passionate- I’ve been aching for you, my queen, my everything, woman of my dreams- only you, only ever you- he’ll make her scream his name and kiss her afterwards.

All the while, he’ll be somewhere else. He’ll be talking to Amren, quietly. He’ll be drinking with Cass and Azriel, playing cards. He’ll be dancing with Mor. He’ll be walking through the streets of Velaris.

That’s the only thing he has. And even those memories are further and further away from him with each passing day. Rhysand is afraid that he’ll wake up some morning and find that there’s no fight left inside him- that he’ll just give up.

He looks around.

He’s in a forest, close to the wall. It’s spring, but snow still covers the trees and the ground. He will encounter no humans here- none of them would be so foolish, so daring to get this close to the wall. He sits down next to a stream, closes his eyes and just doesn’t think. A few, scattered moments of peace- he takes what he gets.

Just a few moments. Then he’ll hunt those poor bastards down.

Feyre is twelve, and she’s been roaming this forest for a year now. She’s been following the village’s hunters; copy the way they set their snarls, carry their bows. She has a dream: she’ll hunt so much food her father will get better again. Nesta and Elain will get fatter, rounder, and they will both find very handsome men to marry. Then it’ll be Feyre and her father, and she’ll hunt for him while he reads at home, and in the evening, she’ll cook for him and paint a little.

So far, she hasn’t ever shot anything bigger than a rabbit, and that one time was on accident. The snarls are what works better.

Nesta turned fifteen yesterday. Feyre knows her sister has hoped their father would say something, but he has forgotten all of their birthdays. Nesta has looked like murder all day long. Elain tried to talk to her, but she locked herself in their room.

Elain and Nesta are very sad, Feyre knows that. They remember more of their mother and they talk about her sometimes, exchanging bits and pieces of who she used to be. In the beginning, right after they moved into the little hut at the village’s edge, they tried to be there for her- but they have too much to worry about, now. They never even play with each other. They don’t thank her when she brings food home.

Feyre makes her way through the trees. She must always stay away from the wall- dangerous creatures are there, fae. She’s so afraid of them she has nightmares sometimes.

But today, some inner voice tells her that the wall is not dangerous. That no fae will hurt her. And almost by themselves, their feet make her walk closer and closer to the buzzing, invisible thing that separates their human world from the fae.

When she comes onto a clearing, she sees a man. He is sitting on a fallen tree branch next to a river and his head his lowered, almost as if he were praying. He doesn’t carry weapons, but his clothes are fine and elegant- he must be a rich merchant, lost in the woods.

Perhaps she’ll get a reward if she leads him out of here. Curiosity gets the better of her. “Are you okay?”, she calls over to him, and that is the exact same moment he looks up and meets her eyes.

It knocks the breath out of her. He’s a fae. His ears are long and pointed, and there is something otherworldly in his features that marks him as different.

This is it. She is going to die. Nesta and Elain and her father will starve because she’s not there anymore. How could she be so careless, hunting so close to the wall?

The man takes in her unwashed hair, her threadbare clothes, her make-shift bow. “You should not be here”, he rasps. “You should run.”

Feyre tries to be a still as she can be. The man doesn’t get up, doesn’t come closer. As if he knows that she’ll start screaming if he does.

“Go”, he commands, angry. “Don’t ever come here again. Understand me? Don’t go into the forest at all. Stay at home.”

And she should do just that, run until she’s far away from him, but…

“I have to”, Feyre says. “I have to hunt.”

“No, you don’t. A small girl like you should stay with her family.”

“You don’t understand.” She steps closer, her bow still ready in her hand. “My family will starve if I don’t. I am doing all of this for them.”

The man breathes in, sharply, and she swears that she sees devastation in his eyes. “What?”

“My father can’t take care of us.” Why the words are spilling from her mouth like that, Feyre doesn’t know. “And my sisters are scared. I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them.”

The man stares at her.

“Are you going to hurt me?”, Feyre asks. She tries to hide that she is scared of that fae. She tries to pretend that she could shoot him, if she wanted.

He shakes his head, slowly. “Of course not.”

“What are you doing here, then? Shouldn’t fae be on the other side of the wall?”

The man smiles a bitter smile. “Usually, we should. But I…was allowed a little freedom today.”

“Are you a hunter, too?”

He closes his eyes. “I suppose.”

“Then you’re a little bit like me.”

“Well.” He laughs. “Not really. But I am doing this for my family, too. All of this.”

Feyre doesn’t know why, but for some strange reason, it makes her very happy that the man has a family. That he’s not alone.

“That’s good”, she smiles. “You should go be with them, not sit in the forest by yourself.”

He nods. “You’re right, of course. As should you.”

Feyre steps as close to him as she dares. The fae is very pretty, she realizes. All the older village girls would probably be in love with him. But he looks sad, she thinks, and she doesn’t know why, but it makes her heart ache a little. She wants him smiling.

“Here.” The fae nods his head and suddenly, a basket filled with bread and meat appears in the snow. “Take that home to your family. It should give you enough food to eat for the next few weeks. I can’t- I wish I could do more. But my hands are quite literally tied.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”, Feyre asks. “Some bargain? Some fairy magic?”

The fae shakes his head, a flicker of amusement on his face. “No bargain, little girl. Although I’m impressed you’re already so wary for your age.”

Feyre picks up the basket. This is better than the time she shot the rabbit. This is all of her birthdays combined. “Thank you- what’s your name?”

“Rhys”, he says, looking at his hands. “That’s what my friends call me.”

“That family you told me about?”

“Yes”, Rhys says softly. “My family.”

Feyre smiles at him. It comes so easy, the smile- because something deep inside her core tells her that she doesn’t need to be afraid of him. And she trusts that. “Thank you, Rhys. Your family is lucky to have you. You just saved mine today.”

He still looks so very sad. “Then that’s something”, he says hoarsely. “Before you go- one thing.”

And suddenly there are talons in her head, and she can’t move anymore.

“It’ll be over in a few moments”, Rhys says. “But I can’t let you remember me. She’ll find out, somehow. She’ll break you just for fun.”

Some white blanket is thrown over her mind, and the next second, Feyre finds herself alone in the woods.

What just happened? Why is she here?

Oh, yes- she remembers- the rich merchant who she met on her way here showed mercy and handed her the basket-

What on earth is she doing so close to the wall?

Feyre turns around and runs. Today is such a good day. She feels happy, not just because of the gift…but because of something else.

And maybe she can get through all of this.

Maybe she’ll find a way out of this someday.  

Rhys has never done something like this, but he forces himself to forget her. He pushes her image into the very, very back of his mind, he uses his magic on himself and forces himself to forget about that girl in the snow, that tiny, little huntress.

Because for some reason, he knows that she is important. For what, he doesn’t know. But he’ll do what it takes to keep her hidden from Amarantha.  

It makes him cry out in pain to use those talons on himself, but-

Rhys finds himself standing somewhere in the forest.

Why is he still here? He should go- hunt those Dawn fae down.

There’s a weird feeling of goodness in the back of his mind. Of happiness. And he remembers- that those he loves are out there. That somehow, someday, he’ll see them again. That there is a reason for everything.

He feels hope, and he doesn’t know why.

I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them, whispers a voice inside his head. He knows who said it-

A girl-

He can’t remember. But that feeling lingers.

That night, when Amarantha is on top of him, moving and moaning about how good this feels after a kill, all he can think is the clock is ticking, you bitch. You’ll go down soon. Someone will come and end you.

When she leaves him, he showers and washes her scent off him. Someone is out there, he thinks. Someone good. This world is not completely lost. And for some reason, he cares again. Cares about what happens. Cares about who wins. Suddenly, he wants to fight.

That night, he has the strangest dream. It’s a hand, unpacking a basket full of bread, apples and meat. A small hand; a child’s hands. But it makes him so inexplicably happy he thinks about that dream for days.

A few years later, when Rhysand has long forgotten about everything, he dreams of that same hand again.

Only this time that delicate, female hand is drawing flowers on a table.

And something inside Rhysand whispers, soon.

Soon.

Soon.

Owner

A/N: Hello everyone! It’s been a hot minute. Hopefully this new series makes up for everything J I haven’t written hybrid!au stuff before, but I find it really hot so why the fuck not right?

There will be smut in later chapters!

If you’re not into that kind of stuff, then I wouldn’t read this story.

Based sorta on this J-Drama called Kimi Wa Petto, if you wanna check it out its super cute.

Keep reading

Oh, Baby (Namjoon x Reader) Pt. 14

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [Pt 7] [Pt 8] [Pt 9] [Pt 10] [Pt 11] [Pt 12] [Pt 13]

Pairing: Namjoon/Rap Monster x Reader
Rating: M
Genre: Smut/Mafia-ish AU

Words: 4,676

Summary: You were only supposed to have seen him twice. Only twice, no more, but now you’re getting dragged into situations you never wished for and Namjoon just keep showing up.

A/N: :D Look, I did a thing! Thank you all for waiting patiently~ I’m literally posting this right before I leave for work, I was rushing to proof read it lol. Hopefully I didn’t miss too many mistakes :p


Black fabric mask secured over the lower half of his face, Jungkook waits tensely in a coffee shop half a block from his family’s penthouse. Its 2 minutes before noon, and his leg bounces nervously under the table, his coffee already gone cold.

Managing to get a whole of 3 hours of sleep the night prior, still too bothered with the thought of you potentially being in trouble to be able to get some shut eye, Jungkook had slipped out of the house early that morning, requesting his regular chauffeur to take him to campus a tad sooner than usual. The driver had complied, toting him half way across the city to the usual spot where Jungkook was dropped off and picked up. Jungkook then left as usual, walking towards his building, but this time he had no plan on going to class. As soon as the Jeon heir was far enough from the car which had dropped him off, he ducked into a building and watched through the old, clouded windows for the car to leave. It took a few seconds, his driver likely confused as to why Jungkook was going into that building when he usually didn’t, but luckily a car wanting to get by honked in slight anger, and the chauffer immediately placed the car in drive and coasted away as if nothing had happened.

Sighing thankfully to the impatient college driver who had honked, Jungkook waits in the building for a few long minutes. He wants to be perfectly sure that his car won’t circle back around to look for him, and when 5 minutes pass and there’s no sign of his chauffeur, Jungkook determines that he’s safe.

Nodding to himself, determination for what he now has to do settling in his gut, Jungkook shrugs his book bag off his shoulder, unzipping the main pouch. Today his normal folders and notebooks are nowhere to be found, replaced by a spare coat, hat, and a mask. Jungkook knows that his father has men stationed all over the city—maybe not on the lookout for him, since as far as they know nothing out of the ordinary is going on—but Jungkook won’t risk anything. It seems to him that his father is currently scheming with Taehyung against Namjoon, judging by the small amount of their conversation he had overheard last night, but Jungkook needs Namjoon by his side. He needs Namjoon’s friendship because right now Namjoon holds all the information Jungkook wants to know about you. And…more so…Namjoon truly isn’t too bad of a guy, in Jungkook’s eyes—better than his father, at least—and Jungkook doesn’t feel well knowing that his family is possibly working to…hurt Namjoon in some way.

So, changing his jacket, hiding his face behind a plain back mask, and tucking his hair beneath a dark blue hat, Jungkook had left the building he’d taken refuge in, walking back into the city. He didn’t want to risk a taxi or a bus, so he had braved the chilling winds and had walked the crowded streets of Seoul. After nearly 40 minutes he finally arrived at the café Namjoon had requested he wait at—the brief text containing the location arriving at just shy of 5am that morning.

And now here he is, Jeon Jungkook, eyes boring into the watch on his wrist, the second hand ticking past the 12 mark, officially meaning that it was noon. His leg continued to bounce with nervous energy, hand reaching into his pocket to check his cellphone, and as soon as the device is in his hand, it buzzes, a new text message lighting up the screen.

Unknown:

I’m stopped behind a bus at the light outside the coffee shop. Come now.

Reading the words with unsteady concentration, Jungkook quickly stands, bumping into the table as he reaches for his backpack and heads outside. Not bothering to correctly zip up his coat, the cold air immediately soaking into his skin, Jungkook glances both ways down the congested street, breaking into a jog when he spots the bus a little ways up the sidewalk, a black car with tinted windows momentarily stalled behind it.

As he approaches the car, his feet suddenly falter as he realizes that he’s currently putting himself in danger. He has no clue what’s going on right now—who he can trust and who might be hiding in the city ready to hurt him. As a Jeon he had been targeted before. Once or twice, but nothing serious. A kidnapping attempt here or there by people desperate to use him as ransom in return for monetary repayment from his father, but all attempts had been thwarted by family men—faint screams ringing in Jungkook’s ears, but he hadn’t put all the pieces together until he’d gotten a bit older.

Yet, despite the danger, Jungkook regains his stride, especially when the light in front of the bus turns green, the tinted car honking urgently. He can’t stall for much longer, and Jungkook rushes forward, pulling open the passenger door, grateful to see Namjoon occupying the driver seat.

“Christ kid, hurry it up,” Namjoon sighs as he steps on the gas, following behind the bus. Jungkook rolls his eyes, dropping his bag on the floor between his feet.

“You could have actually stopped somewhere to wait.”

“I could have, but everything feels risky nowadays,” Namjoon mumbles, eyes casting to the side. Jungkook can immediately tell how tired the older male is, dark bags hanging under his eyes, unkempt facial hair prickling his chin and upper lip.

“Hyung…,” Jungkook says, voice sympathetic yet serious. His eyes harden, heart steeling as he shifts to face Namjoon. “What’s going on? Please, you need to tell me…”

“The other day–,” Namjoon starts after a moment of hesitation, knuckles turning white around the steering wheel. “Y/N came over. I was trying to make things right after everything that had been happening. It went well, really well…,” he says with fondness, his defenses momentarily dropping, but as he continues recounting what had occurred Jungkook sees his body curl in on itself, anger staining his face.

“I got a call that morning from a client. Left Y/N to sleep because I figured I’d be right back…I asked Yoongi to check on her. He…,” Namjoon takes a moment to calm himself, throat tight, adam’s apple bobbing. “He got there and saw Y/N in Jimin’s car. Jimin somehow got into my apartment and took her. Yoongi gave chase, but…”

Stopped at another red light, Namjoon slams his fist on the dashboard, and Jungkook winces, heart sinking into his stomach.

“She’s gone?” the younger whispers, hands laying stiffly in his lap. Namjoon bites his lip, trying his best not to give into all the dark thoughts lurking in his mind.

“She is—but I’ve got people looking for her. We’re going to get her back, Kookie–,” reaching over, Namjoon places his hand on Jungkook’s knee and the younger startles, immediately batting Namjoon’s hand away, his eyes filled with rage. However, when Jungkook sees the hurt and pain on Namjoon’s face, that spark of anger dies, and he hunches over, pressing his palms to his face.

“I know this isn’t your fault, hyung…I’m sorry. I just—”

“You can blame me if it makes it easier,” Namjoon responds, dead eyes tracking the road. Jungkook shakes his head, taking a deep breath as he pushes any potential tears back into their sockets.

“I won’t blame you. I can tell that you’ve changed, Namjoon hyung. You care for Y/N, and I can tell this isn’t easy for you, so I’m sorry I reacted like that, I just…she’s my friend, you know?” Jungkook says quietly, loosely hugging his arms to his chest. “I don’t have many, and none else like her, considering father’s—”

“Right, your father,” Namjoon interrupts, suddenly remembering the reason he’d had to call Jungkook out in public to meet like this. Jungkook’s eyes widen as well, and the two males stare at each other, surprised.

“Right, right—my dad!” Jungkook recalls, eyes searching his lap as he tries to remember everything he had overheard the night before. “I—last night a guy named V showed up at our door. He told me to call him—”

“Taehyung,” Namjoon growls, swerving into a small parking lot and shifting the car into P. He can’t trust himself to continue driving calmly when he’s got all this shit on his mind—and Taehyung is not helping. Especially after he’d touched you…and now he’s apparently making ties with Jungkook’s father, which isn’t good…

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, biting his bottom lip with his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing. Last night he hadn’t been able to recall where he’d heard the name before, but pairing it with Namjoon’s reaction…

“Is that they guy who hurt Y/N? At the club?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon sighs, fingers coasting through his messy hair. Jungkook scowls.

“Right…now that I think about it, it makes sense. The guy was such a goddamn flirt—even with me—

“Taehyung is very…open,” Namjoon says cautiously, and then shakes his head, getting back to the situation at hand. “What did he say to your dad?”

“I went looking around last night because one of our maids broke a glass, and on my way back to my room I overheard my father and Taehyung talking. They…said something about…,” he furrows his eyebrows, trying to recall the faint words he’d managed to pick up on. “They mentioned a girl, your name, bait, and a ball next week. They–! They said something about another man, and how my father was glad he had trusted Taehyung’s friend, Jimin…”

“Oh, fuck,” Namjoon groans, palms dragging down his face. “Fuck–! I forgot that Taehyung and Jimin are friends, those little assholes—”

“…the person who took Y/N from your apartment—you…said his name was Jimin, right?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon grits, palms pressing into his straining eyes. “Yeah, it was Jimin. And if Taehyung got Jimin to do his dirty work and kidnap Y/N, and Taehyung is suddenly your dad’s best friend, then…”

The car falls silent, and Jungkook and Namjoon’s eyes meet.

If Taehyung and Jungkook’s father are working together against Namjoon, then—

Jungkook sees the flash of distrust that momentarily passes through Namjoon’s eyes, and while Namjoon and Jungkook have never truly been friends, the younger’s heart aches.

“Hyung—Namjoon hyung I promise I’m not against you, please,” Jungkook says, leaning over to rest his hand on Namjoon’s thigh. He can feel Namjoon’s muscles stiffen beneath him, but his face gives away nothing.

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How the Hellsing characters are presented in the fandom:

Alucard: Will fuck anything that moves. Angsty VampireTM. Not even a monster, just an asshole with guns. No emotions except for sexual lust and blood lust. Nobody can control him, and if they can, they’re presented as assholes for getting in his way. He is also abusive.

Integra: Cold, emotionless bitch. Treats everyone like shit. More often than not, she’s the one standing in everyone’s happy ending. Gives 0 fucks about the people closest to her.

Seras: Basically walking boobs. “Ahhh oh nooo I’m a vampire???! Blood is super icky!!! Save me, Alucard!!”

Walter: Butler.

How the characters actually are:

Alucard: A complex character who has accepted his life after death. He has the maturity of someone who is centuries old; he doesn’t angst over what could have been with his life because he knows that he has to deal with the consequences of his actions. He is a sadistic, ruthless monster, and he knows it. But, he holds those he cares about with respect and would never cross their boundaries (though he will tease them). HE HAS NEVER AND WOULD NEVER ASSAULT INTEGRA OR SERAS.

Integra: She is a calculating, intelligent human being. She has emotions, but she usually has to suppress them for her line of duty and it causes her pain. She cares deeply about the people who live in her manor- deeply enough that they are capable of breaking her heart. She is a strong, commanding leader who doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she will do everything in her power to save innocent people and the people she cares about. She would not needlessly risk lives.

Seras: Strong, kind, and amazing. She struggles to retain her humanity and manages to smile while she does it. She doesn’t take shit either, even though she has a bit of a softer personality compared to Integra. Never assume she is weak. She is also a monster, just like Alucard, and she eventually comes to terms with it. She is a badass who kicks ass and takes names, and is not a damsel in distress or a walking set of tits. Seras is someone who has looked Hell in the face and still manages to brighten everyone’s lives with her amazing attitude. She was once a police officer, and is a vampire, so SPOILER ALERT: smack her ass and she will fucking rip your arms off, not blush and giggle.

Walter: He presents a cool and collected façade. He can pass for the average butler, but don’t think for one second that a butler is all he is. He is a hard-ass killing machine who wanted to prove himself worthy of being remembered. He didn’t want to evade the history books; he wanted to be known as the man who defeated the monster, and so he became a traitor. He is a wolf in sheepskin, and he is almost as sadistic as Alucard himself. Despite this, however, he DOES care about Integra and Seras; just not as much as he cares about himself, his ego, and his petty and childish “rivalry” he has going on with Alucard.

gravegh0st  asked:

can you talk some more about Dishonoured? (is that the game?) I'm so confused but everyone seems very excited(?) about something? Sorry, my autistic ass is so confused lmao

Oh boy can I. 

Hello friend, welcome to the collective freakout that is the Dishonored fandom going “wait WHAT, OH MY GOD YES!!”

Dishonored is a stealth sneaky sneaky magic/stabby game which came out back in 2012. The premise is, without giving too much away, thatyou are the personal bodyguard to Empress Jessamine who is murdered in front of you by a man named Daud. Princess Emily is also kidnapped and they vanish into literal thin air, and you’re left behind to hold Jessamine in your arms as she dies. You are then framed for her murder and spend the rest of game trying to regain your honor, find Emily and restore balance to the Empire. How you do that is all on you. 

You can either ghost through the world on silent sneaky feet without shedding a single drop of blood and show mercy (sort of) to those who have wronged you, or you can finish what others have started and watch the world burn.

The Outsider everyone is talking about, is an ancient god entity from the Void who chooses to give you supernatural powers to aide you in your endeavors, how much you use them or how little, is up to you. It’s sort of like the immortal eldritch equivalent of binge watching a new show on Netflix. Everyone else he previously Marked is boring and predictable, but you, oh you with grief and murder and love in your heart, you could be fun. 

If you do the predicted “kill everything in your path” outcome, he’s unsurprised but still moderately entertained and thanks you for the show. If you opt not to kill anyone, he’s somewhat wryly amused that you proved him wrong, and tells you he’s enjoyed watching, and I cannot stress enough how much I LOVE the moral functioning code in Dishonored (the Chaos ranking). It is to my mind one of the only few games that boasts a truly nuanced approach to morality and how we interact with the world around us by showing us the subtle and not to subtle ways in which our actions affect the world we live in. The literal difference between a childs drawings and the fall of an Empire.

It is worth pointing out that Corvo’s actions, despite non chaotic, are not always good. He is adhering to a personal code of morality which is acted out by you the player. Mercy and honor are not synonymous with Good, just like revenge and justice are not the same thing but often mistaken for two sides of the same coin. 

There is instead a kind of poetic justice to a lot of the things he does, making them satisfying to watch, but without actually crossing the line into being “just as bad as them”. You can of course also be, just as bad as them. There are a million and one ways to make someone die in this game, and you can do it with as much or as little finesse as you like. 

If you are low chaos, ie you sneak around and find ways to complete your goals without killing anyone, the world will be…it will still be bad, but things will be a little kinder. People will be softer, they will strive to do better. More people will survive. There is less fear in the streets, people will know about a masked man, but they’ll hear the stories, yea, the whole garrison, the whole garrison put to sleep with some kind of dart—and did you hear about what the High Overseer was actually doing though??? What a monster…

If however you opt for stabby stabby murder central, the game becomes collectively harder. There will be more rats, there will be more guards who are more hostile and alert. But the good people in the game, the people who are truly good, will become afraid of you, will become twisted and cynical. And it’s fucking chilling. Like, it’s just…hhnnngh, it’s so subtle right up until it’s not it’s like a punch to the gut. I love it.

I still remember the first time I played the game and Samuel called me a bad person and that he hated me, I was like “but, but…I didn’t…I chose to be merciful! those people did awful things and I was merciful!” and then it hit me…I wasn’t. I wasn’t merciful, I wasn’t good. I still stood on the precipice over Hell and I chose to spare some people under the guise of morality and my own righteousness, while slaughtering countless others who got in my path. What made those people any less important to me than a main NPC? They weren’t. They were still People in the world I was in. And I killed them. I didn’t even try to find a way not to. I just treated them like the result of a world gone mad around me and waded through blood, like my survival meant the inevitability of their death. I treated them with the same non-thought with which the blatantly morally corrupt NPcharacters had treated me and countless others like me.

And that is some Avatar The Last Airbender shit right there. That’s Aang on the mountain and giant lion sea turtles right there. It’s Pratchett with Sam Vimes in the deep down dark holding and axe and Granny Weatherwax who stares into the depths of her soul and comes up swinging for the light. It’s wonderful and it gives me chills just remembering the first time it happened and I had paused the game to go “what…no!” and the enormity of it hit me. It completely changed the way I play the game, most games, actually. And I get frustrated with other sneaky games with supposed moral coding that don’t hold me to that same level of accountability, or don’t even allow me to try.

And then the DLC comes out and you’re playing as Daud, the assassin who killed the empress and he’s having a fucking moral melt down. He’s having nightmares about it, battling against the clock to make amends and set things right before Corvo catches up with him and kills him, and you can either play with the same ruthless disregard for life that lead you to these circumstances or…or you can tread a little lighter, a little softer. All the while knowing your life ultimately hangs in the balance. And as you the player, knowing how his fate ends depending on how you played as Corvo.

Dishonored 2 operates on the same pretenses, except it’s some years later, and you have the choice to play as either Corvo or Emily. Ousted from your home, you have to make your way to Karnaca to restore order, and defeat the people who planned the coup before returning home to reclaim the throne. How you do that? Again, that’s up to you. You can either rage and lash out in a world where cruelty thrives—you can be ruthless and merciless—or you can find another way.

I’ll be really interested to see what goes on with this new Daud and Billie (Daud’s right hand in the first game) expansion of the universe. What choices are canon and which ones are not, and how they will affect the world of Dunwall as we know it. I already have a theory about why they want to kill the Outsider, but I wont say just yet. All I know is it looks like we get to play as Billie, and I am 100% here for That.

【 50% OFF STARTER MEME 】

This starter meme is completely based off of THIS starter meme right here, it’s just in a different format to accommodate players with multiple accounts as opposed to just one!! I take no credit for it and if you want to appreciate the content, give the blog a follow, please!!

  • “You can’t have sex with your neighbor’s backyard above-ground pool.”
  • “Let me help you out of that swimsuit– POOL.”
  • “I sure hope we become best friends! But I don’t hope we have a falling out, leading us to have a tense, emotion-heavy, dramatic, competitive, love/hate relationship later on.”
  • “So, anyways, I regain consciousness, there’s cops everywhere, (name) is covered in blood, got an ice-pick– haha, it was kind of a weird Tuesday.”
  • “We’re gonna be late for anime school!”
  • “I’m just saying, is it illegal if I’m in my OWN pool?”
  • “WHAT’S UP SLUTS?! GUESS WHO JUST GOT OUT OF PRISON?!”
  • “(name) WAS A BITCH-ASS POSER.”
  • “Oh no, he’s hot when he’s sad!”
  • “This reminds me of prison. This reminds me of prison. This DEFINITELY reminds me of prison.”
  • “Look at that little pimp. He’s gonna grow up to be a prison ass mothafucka.”
  • “Let’s skip all the fluff and get to the part where we’re shirtless.”
  • “Homeboy looks like shark week, I ain’t messin’ with that.”
  • “It wasn’t a dream! We got arrested for trespassing! We went to JAIL!”
  • “Nah, man, we went to holding. There’s a big difference.”
  • “Yeah now we owe Easter Dave a favor– that is NOT a position you wanna be in.”
  • “Wouldn’t we have seen him around by now? I mean he is a bipedal shark-person.”
  • “I’VE GOT MACE!”
  • “Was macing us really necessary AFTER you remembered who we were?!”
  • “You took the fall for me and I said thank you.”
  • “I went to jail!”
  • “I spent 6 months at a correctional facility!”
  • “I stabbed a girl in the yard!”
  • “I think that guard you killed had a family!”
  • “Look at that majestic ass mothafucka. Like a dolphin or some shit. A dolphin with legs… and arms… and a jet pack.”
  • “BITCH GET IN THE POOL!”
  • “That’s how they do it in Australia.”
  • “20 bucks on jabber jaws.”
  • “Hey, man did you TiVo Glee last night?”
  • “I’m not allowed to watch Glee, my dad says it might turn me into something bad. A musical theater major.”
  • “Neither one of them even died!”
  • “They won’t let me back into sewing club because apparently when I threaten someone with sewing needles it’s deemed ‘inappropriate’ and I 'have to leave’.”
  • “I have to tumblr this!”
  • “A guy with emotional issues who swims away his problems? Lady, that’s the whole team, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”
  • “I ship them! And them!”
  • “They hate each other, but they also fuck each other!“
  • “Hey, we try not to get this part of the gym wet so whatever you’re doing is gonna have to stop.”
  • “So do you wanna come back to my place, listen to some Dave Matthews, and talk about my work out routine?”
  • “I wonder if that stuff I hid is still here? … Nah, cops probably took it.”
  • “Do you know? Do you know for sure? Because I don’t need another incident.”
  • “If I get out of this chair, I guarantee you’ll end up in one with wheels.”
  • “Okay. I’ll admit, I’m a little threatened.”
  • “‘Sup bitches!~”
  • “Aren’t you that guy who drowned a kid? And burned down that building?”
  • “Get back to it before you learn a lesson in post-war, urban torture practices.”
  • “Remember, snitches get stitches!”
  • “Shut up, you’re high as balls!”
  • “You’re just mad because mom and dad thought you were a girl for the first year of your life.”
  • “Right, son. And speaking of crushing disappointments—”
  • “Coach tried to get me to vandalize a police station again.”
  • “Good thing I wore my Heelies.”
  • “He’s so hot but so crazy! Which makes him even MORE hot!”
  • “Come on, let me get those digits baby!”
  • “It should be illegal to be that fine!”
  • “Oh, just basic addition and subtraction. He was subtracting from my profits so I’m going to add a few extra holes in him.”
  • “This doesn’t seem like the time for polka-renditions of Ke$ha songs.”
  • “I hate it when you leave but I love watching you go.”
  • “Yeah, I’ve seen him. He’s in my scrapbook class. He cuts the eyes out of magazine photos.”
  • “Your arrest record is extensive… and amateur.”
  • “The fact that you continue to avoid indefinite incarceration is insanity AND THE FACT THAT OUR LAW ENFORCEMENT CAN’T PUT AWAY SOMEONE WITH SUCH BLATANT DISREGARD FOR CONVENTIONAL CRIMINAL FUNCTION BAFFLES THE MIND.”
  • “I want that boy to be my bride!”
  • “Pilates will do that, man, works your core.”
  • “What are we waiting for? Let’s go bro! Let’s g’bro!”
  • “Wow, you sure said that.“
  • “WOOP! WOOP! Hold it, I’m gonna have to pull you over for exceeding recommended hotness.”
  • “One time, we went camping in the woods, I just left 'em there. Nobody found them for like 5 days. I don’t even think their families cared, kinda sad, really.”
  • “So, what you’re saying is, if they disappeared, no one would notice?”
  • “Well I’ve gotta go not talk to you anymore.”
  • “I learned how to swim the old fashioned way. When I was five my dad took me out to a lake and tossed me right in the water.”
  • “I’m so happy right now! — And it’s not just ‘cause I get to see you in a bunch of different swimsuits. Okay, I lied, I’m sorry, that’s mostly the reason.”
  • “SHE’S A WITCH! PUSH HER IN THE POOL!”
  • “Hey, I know you! You helped me smuggle some stuff out of the country! How’ve you been, kid?”

anonymous asked:

Hi! Can we get the RFA trying to comfort an MC who feels inadequate joining the RFA because everyone's so accomplished in there (either rich, a genius, or talented tbh) and she was just kind of thrown in because of Unknown? I'm sorry if that's oddly specific, but I just had that thought earlier and I love your scenarios/imagines. Thanks~!!!

i’m such a huge piece of shit for taking this long. i have over 60 requests. i suck ass. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry but like i have other stuff i need to do and inspiration just doesn’t come and it would turn out really shitty otherwise. oH, and thank you so much! and also, it was kind of easy to write this since i can kind of relate. i’ve been feeling like that lately.


Two days ago, the entire RFA attended an interview since the association started getting more and more attention with each passing day. Your actions not going unnoticed by the world, so it was only natural for the world to want to know more about all of you.

You were ecstatic about the interview.

They started with Jumin, CEO of C&R International, who was followed by Zen, renowned and incredibly talented actor, then Jaehee, (was/is) head assistant at C&R International and an incredibly hard working woman. After her, they started interviewing Yoosung, who was now an incredible student at one of the most prestigious universities in Korea and who had an extremely bright future. 

Seven decided not to take part in the interview for security reasons, but he was a genius and the brains behind the app and security of the organization. But everyone knew he was essential to the RFA. 

Finally, it was your turn to be interviewed. You had the possible answers for the interview well-rehearsed thanks to Zen. Everyone had done an amazing job which only made you strive for perfection.

How did you join the RFA?”

“What do you do for the organization?”

“Is it true that you took the last Coordinator’s place?”

“Do you think you’re living up to the last Coordinator’s prestigious reputation?”

You noticed that the questions started getting harsher and harsher, and it wasn’t until some technical difficulties with the lights and sound, that the interview came to an end.

You were sure Seven had something to do with it. 

Your friends and lover weren’t dumb, they noticed the anxiety that soon started suffocating you thanks to your body language. Zen was the first one to notice, so when the interviewer asked if they could continue the interview elsewhere, he intervened and told her in his ever-charming way that they were unable to stay any longer. 

It didn’t surprise you when the interviewer and the producers decided to call it a day.

You were finally home. Everyone was gone because they all had work to do and you conveniently had a day off.

Sitting on the couch, you started going over the interview and it suddenly hit you.

You weren’t worthy of being in the RFA.

There was a sudden tightness around your throat as the fact that the only reason you joined was because you had to. That the only reason you were part of this amazing organization was because you had been dumb enough to listen to a stranger and go deliver a phone that wasn’t even yours. The only thing you did was put yourself and the entire organization at risk.

You were not special.

You were nothing.

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Why not share?

pairing: Bjorn, Ivar x Reader

fandom: vikings

warnings: smut

@nekodemon73 @kumpmk @bookswillfindyouaway @mads–world


“She will spend the night with me." 
 
"Will she? I don’t think so brother." 

 
You were not inclined to share your night with either of them at this rate. Both bickering like children who had lost their toy. 
 
"I think I’m going to see Ubbe.” Rolling your eyes, you smile when the two look up at you. The shock and irritation was written all over their faces. 
 
Bjorn and Ivar both didn’t look very pleased with that outcome. While they tolerated each other as best as they could, adding someone else to the party was out of the question. 
The brothers weren’t the best of friends and you often wondered how these two managed to keep it somewhat civil. Sharing wasn’t a trait either of them possessed. 
 
Ivar smirks while grabbing your arm to keep you from leaving, “If you’re so eager to have another man how about I fuck you in front of everyone here. I’m sure quite a few of the men in the camp would love to join in.” 

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Burnouts, Booze, and Babes

Originally posted by butaer

Summary: Taehyung and Jeongguk are just two small town best friends, getting drunk too often and making big plans they’ll probably never achieve. Taehyung takes it upon himself to teach Jeongguk all of the proper ways to have sex, and Jeongguk swears he’s just hanging around because Taehyung’s good in bed. Who would have thought these small town losers, who used to smoke behind the school, would become jewelers at the biggest department store in Seoul. [Pre Givenchy & Gold]
Pairing: Jeongguk x Taehyung
Word Count: 32.850
Rating: M
Warnings: too much sex, too many kinks, mentions of drug use, Taehyung calling Jeongguk so many nasty things, two bros chilling 5ft apart in a hot tub (“swear I’m not gay”), switching, uhhhh daddy kink
A/N: @blueagust and I have basically spent the last couple weeks screaming at each other about Taehyung and Jeongguk’s history from her story Givenchy&Gold, and with the little restraint I have, this happened. Lou, this is an absolute mess and I probably destroyed your entire fic timeline, but happy early Kwanza or some shit (which is totally an excuse Tae gives when he’s buying Jeon another pair of earrings.) This is not good enough for you but I hope you like it anyway!!

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Broken Memories (Poly!Hamilsquad x Reader)

Words: 3200+

Warnings: car accident

Request: (i lost it in my blog but something about the reader being sick/hurt and the boys take care of them)

A/N: im sorry i took so long, as always. please forgive me, and enjoy!


You were walking home, your bag was thrown over your shoulder. You forgot your umbrella, and you were soaked, the wool hoodie doing nothing to stop the raindrops from seeping through. You didn’t check the weather today, so this was a big surprise for you. Lafayette wanted to drive you home, but you insisted on walking, not wanting him to leave work early. Hamilton and Laurens were working at the office too, and Mulligan had to go to his shop to finish the orders that people brought in.

Your phone rang, and you answered, barely glancing at the contact picture. “Hello?”

“Y/N! I told you that I would take you home!” Mulligan’s rough voice said. You rolled your eyes, sitting on a seat next to a bus stop. Thankfully, it was only slightly wet, not enough to make you stand.

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anonymous asked:

I love your writing so much! Here's a prompt if you want it: in Dreamland after Scully handcuffs Fletcher to the bed she tells Mulder about it when they're sitting in the car talking

Tagging @today-in-fic and @fictober

“What convinced you finally?” They’re sitting in the car, Mulder and Scully, like they’re the only two people here in this murky parking lot. Mulder, with the face of Morris Fletcher, eyes Scully and she stares right back. She’s never been interested in looks. It’s what’s inside that counts, she reminds herself, and the man inside is Mulder. The grin, though, is not Mulder. The inflection of this man’s voice is a strange, obscure sound in her ear. She can’t read his expression, doesn’t know what the twitch in his cheek means. The light is dim, shady, and if she blinks, squints her eyes, can she pretend this is her Mulder? She tries, but the face remains the same; the one she doesn’t want to see.

“Scully?” It doesn’t sound the same. A nuisance at first, a tease on his part, she is certain, when he started calling her Scully. Not Agent Scully or Dana. Scully. She crinkles her nose remembering Morris Fletcher, inhabiting Mulder’s body, saying her name.

“I was just – this is so strange, Mulder.”

“Tell me about it.” He huffs, his eyes intent on hers. Scully briefly wonders if she looks different to him, looking through different eyes. “So, tell me. What did I – what did he do – that made you believe me?”

“You don’t want to know.” She mumbles no longer looking at him, instead playing with a loose thread on her jacket.

“I may not want to know, but I need to know. Please, Scully.” She lifts her head. She They have a history of this, don’t they. Eddie van Blundth slips into her mind. As intrusively and unwelcome as when he came to her apartment back then. A big fat smile on his face. Only that it wasn’t his face. It was Mulder’s face. She’d almost fallen for it again this time, let herself be fooled again. The mere idea of switched bodies so improbable that a completely out of character Mulder made more sense to her. More sense than her own feelings and her intuition. She doubted herself; she doubted Mulder, too.

“You – he – is quite popular at the moment. He’s been entertaining… new friends.”

“As in…”

“Yeah.”

“Scully, I hope you know that-” She shakes her head, stops him.

“I know, Mulder. That’s one of the things that made me realize something wasn’t right.”

“Just one? Scully, you have to tell me.”

“You – he,” Scully, frustrated, corrects herself, “invited me over to your place.”

“What did he do?” Scully may not know Morris Fletcher intimately, or well at all, but she detects the darkness in that question. There’s a hint of fear, too. That’s all Mulder.

“Nothing happened, Mulder. I stopped him. I knew he wasn’t you. Without going into too much detail, I, well, I tied him to the bedpost. With handcuffs.” She is proud of herself for that move, she can’t deny it.

“You did what? Since when do I even have a bedpost?”

“Morris spruced up your bedroom, Mulder. You’ve got a bed now,” she tells him and can’t contain the smile, “a waterbed, in fact. Oh, and a nice mirror over your bed.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Mulder groans.

“Sorry, Mulder. At least you’ll be able to sleep in a bed from now on.”

“That implies you have an idea on how to get me back into my own body.” Scully glances at him. She doesn’t have an idea. None. This should never have happened. What is she going to do if Mulder remains in this man’s body? The wedding ring on his finger glints. If they don’t find a solution… she won’t allow herself to even think it.

“Whatever happened, Mulder, is an improbability.”

“That didn’t stop it from happening, Scully.” She nods miserably.

“I hope the Gunmen can help us. If not…” Mulder reaches over and takes her hand. She startles and gasps. She should have kissed him, she thinks, and the thought surprises her even more than the unknown touch. When they returned from Antarctica, feelings as raw as their skin, she should have just kissed him. She wanted to. Wants to now. Scully turns to him, wonders if the surprise on her face is apparent. With Mulder, her Mulder, she would have been able to tell. She aches for his face, longs to touch his cheek, and lose herself in his eyes. She’s never much cared about Mulder’s effortless good looks; they are not what make him who he is. But she misses it; misses what she’s grown to know and love.

“There’s got to be a way, Scully. It happened once, right? There’s got to be a good chance it can happen again.” She’s not going to tell him about statistics. Not that she knows any numbers for unlikely occurrences like this. He once called her his one in five billion. So unlikely. So what if… what if. 

“Hey, don’t give up on me yet, Scully.“ 

"I’m not, Mulder. I promise, I’m not.”

“But there’s something on your mind. Sunflower seed for your thoughts?” He offers her a handful but she shakes her head. 

“I miss your voice, Mulder.” She admits and stares at his hand. He puts a seed in his mouth, cracks it. The sound is the same as always, should be familiar, but it’s not. 

“Do I not talk? I mean Fletcher.”

“Not like you do." 

"I promise you that as soon as I’m back to myself, I’ll talk your ear off. I can recite sonnets or do you want me to sing you a song? What would you like to hear?” She wants him to tell her again how he makes her a whole person. How they’re in this together. That he needs her. She wants to hear him say Scully in a whisper, a moan, a prayer.

“Just anything, Mulder.” She answers him instead. 

“Anything? So if I wanted to talk to you about let’s say handcuffing people to bedposts…” Scully laughs and desperate tears tickle her throat.

“If we make it out of this, Mulder, I’ll not only talk to you about it, I’ll show you. Now go back inside so I can find a way to get the real you back.”

vexedcer  asked:

Ok I was just thinking abt, how does Elaine react to Jace? Does she know who he is pre-romantic relationship? Is he "the one with the tattoos"? Has Simon already come out to her when he brings Jace up? Does she insist on having a family meal when he formally meets them as Simon's boyfriend? I'm just word vomiting on you and smiling like a fool on the bus but gah I needed to get it out to someone ik who'll appreciate it

WOW I’M SPEECHLESS YOU’RE RIGHT IT’S JUST SO???? LIKE YOU KNOW ELAINE IS #1 MOM AT ALL TIMES AND IS SO SUPPORTIVE - 

  • like, she definitely begins to notice that simon is into guys when he’s in high school and they go to temple one day and simon flushes when dear old harriet’s son compliments simon
  • so she’s like hmmm and she keeps an eye on him and she almost forgets about it because he’s so in love with clary, and she’s a little torn because clary’s a lovely girl but she doesn’t want her son to get hurt and clary, she knows, has a habit of unwittingly pulling everything around her into her orbit
  • and then, you know, strange things start happening to her son and she spends a long period of time thinking, hysterically, that he’s dead, or off getting addicted to drugs, or just - so many awful things, and she wonders often if it’s her fault, if her picking up that bottle when ethan died set off a chain of karma so bad it’s destroyed her children - but no, she has to remember that rebecca and simon are their own people and that they’re family, no matter what, and oh god she hopes simon is okay she hopes her baby is safe - 
  • simon starts reappearing, slowly but surely. he looks intensely uncomfortable, and every time he comes over for dinner he has a friend with him, that band manager raphael, or his ex-girlfriend maia, or that lovely girl isabelle, or clary, or a friendly boy named bat that appreciates her tamales more than simon seems to at this point - simon’s not eating again, which is worrying, but he looks healthy, if a little pale, and he still hugs her and holds her tight and say i love you, mom, so she perseveres in pretending nothing’s wrong until he wants to tell her - 
  • and she begins to piece it together after a while, because she hears that jocelyn is dead and she sees tattoos flicker across clary’s body sometimes, and the scars that peek out across maia’s neck are far from natural. and there’s a faint echo of a memory in the back of her head of simon with sharp, sharp fangs. she understands something’s happening, remembers ethan once tell her that he’d known someone, long ago, who under the full moon - but it doesn’t matter now. she begins to understand that she’s better off not knowing, so she turns her head when simon slips a flask of a thick red substance out from under his coat, and starts to harp on the benefits of animal blood and blood banks when simon’s around. 
  • in the middle of all this, she peers out the window by the front door one night to see her son arguing with…thin air?
  • she watches for a few more seconds, bemused, until the air shimmers and seemingly out of nowhere a handsome young man with blonde hair and a ridiculous amount of tattoos decorating his arms flickers into existence, looking extremely put out, but still acquiescing when simon grabs his wrist and makes his way to the front door. 
  • she opens it, and simon determinedly introduces her to jace, who shakes her hand and very politely calls her ms. lewis. he hovers a little behind simon, who rolls his eyes and pushes him into a chair, and elaine hides her smile behind a stack of plates as simon hisses “act natural, herondale” and jace whispers back, furiously, “easy for you to say, lewis”
  • she isn’t completely sure of their dynamic, but it’s clear that the two of them are intesely familiar with one another, moving easily in each other’s space. simon serves jace almost unthinkingly, and jace absently takes simon’s garlic bread and starts eating it. rebecca, bless her soul, wiggles her eyebrows at elaine - are the two of them, maybe, you know? - and elaine pointedly looks at rebecca’s plate - mind your own business, dear - and rebecca grins, turning back to her own dinner. 
  • during dessert, elaine absently asks “and what do your parents do, jace?”and jace replies that he’s isabelle’s sister. “you two look very different,” elaine says, “you must take after the other parent.” 
  • jace stiffens unexpectedly, and elaine opens her mouth to immediately backtrack, because she can recognize that discomfort anywhere, but she’s momentarily shocked into silence when she sees simon’s arm move slightly under the table, his biceps briefly flexing. 
  • elaine was young and in love once too, and she remembers a dinner conversation like this a long time ago, with ethan’s parents sitting across from her and asking her and what happened to your little brother, dear? and the immediate choking sensation she’d felt as visions of smashed windshields and her brother’s limp body flooded her mind. in the midst of all that, as she’d sat, frozen and petrified, ethan’s hand had found her thigh under the table and squeezed lightly, comfortingly. nothing big, no declaration, no sudden hero; just a little reminder, i’m here and you’re not alone, you are hurting and i know you are not alone. she remembers what it had looked like out of the corner of her eye, what it looks like now as simon angles his body towards jace and gazes at him with a warmth and support that’s so very ethan that elaine finds herself momentarily blinking back tears, stuck in the past and the present. 
  • “it’s okay,” jace says, his voice marginally smaller but a falsely bright smile plastered to his face, “i’m adopted.” 
  • “well, the lightwoods have a set of very attractive children, then.” elaine says without missing a beat, and jace laughs and rebecca laughs and simon flushes red and groans “mom” and it’s all fine, but elaine is still looking and she sees the way jace nudges simon as simon buries his face in his hands in embarassment, sees the look of fondness and amusement that jace gives her son, and she thinks he did it, ethan, he found himself his forever
  • because she knows simon, she knows people, she knows love like no one else knows it because ethan was the kindest person to walk this earth and he taught her how to find it in everything and everyone before the earth took him back, so she waves simon and jace goodbye and knows in her heart that one day jace is going to be in her living room, asking to marry simon. 
  • and sure enough, when weeks later simon swallows hard on her front porch and says, slowly, quietly, “mom, jace and i - he’s my boyfriend, now, i think - “ and jace presses a quick kiss to simon’s cheek, the tips of his own ears burning as he murmurs, “we’re dating, lewis, you don’t have to say i think, you idiot - “, she blinks back tears as she remembers the way ethan’s lips felt skimming along her cheeks, and she sweeps them both into a hug. 
  • “i’m happy for you,” she says, ruffling simon’s hair, and he ducks his head and looks pleased, and jace says - polite as ever, what a charming young man - thank you, and she looks at the stars briefly. 
  • our son likes boys, too she thinks to ethan, confident that wherever he is he’s got an eye on her, and if you were here, you’d be so happy that he was happy. 
  • but you’re not, she thinks bitterly, smiling sadly, so i’m going to be happy enough for the both of us
  • she turns and makes her way inside, and she swears she can feel the ghost of a kiss pressed to her cheek. 

alexiea1  asked:

Pinning keith angst Lance writes love letters and put it in what he thinks is his crushes locker but it's Keith's locker. Lance finds out and tells keith that they weren't met for him. Keith, who is crushing on him hard now is very sad 😏 gotta love the angst

Ohhhhhhh

“What’s this?” Keith pulled an envelope out of his locker, his fingers ghosting over the baby blue paper. 

“It looks like a lover letter,” Pidge wiggled their eyebrows as they attempted to snatch the envelope from Keith’s hand. 

“Stop that!” Keith pushed the younger person off them, “you gremlin.” 

Pidge laughed, stepping away from Keith, giving the raven boy some space to open the letter, being careful not to rip it. 

Your eyes shine like the stars at night, your hair wrapping my eyes in the night sky. You’re everything I want, please keep the stars alive. ~Blue <3

Keith felt his face turn red as he scanned the letter with his eyes over and over again, the words digging into his mind. What?

“What does it say?!” Pidge climbed up Keith’s back and he gripped the piece of paper tighter in his hands. 

“Who wrote this?!” Anger slightly consumed his voice and Pidge jumped away from the pale boy. 

“Wh-what does it say? Is it something bad?!” They tighten their hands into fists as the idea of their friend getting bullied. 

Keith shook his head, “no, no, it’s nothing bad, just a love letter?” He wasn’t really sure what it was since he had never gotten one before but he was sure they were like this. 

Pidge blinked a few times, scanning the letter when Keith turned it towards them. “It’s actually a love letter…I was just joking about that,” they gave a nervous laugh and stepped away from their friend, “I guess someone has a crush on youuuuu” 

Keith folded the letter and placed it securely in his backpack, “I’m sure it was just a fluke or something. Let’s just get going before we’re late for class.”

Pidge nodded, shutting their locker and quickly changing the subject to mothman.

-

Yet Keith soon learned that the first letter wasn’t a fluke, more appeared everyday. Every time Keith opened his locker a new letter would be there, the baby blue paper looking out of place among Keith’s red’s and black items. 

Keith would never let it show or tell Pidge but he looked forward to the letter everyday, it was nice to feel wanted for once. Moving from school to school had made it very difficult for Keith to feel wanted or have people ask him out. 

“Aren’t you curious who’s writing you these?” Pidge adjusted their glasses and Keith pulled another letter out of his locker. 

Keith shrugged, “kinda? I just want to know why really. I mean I’m not to look at and if it’s a girl they won’t have a chance with me anyways.” 

Pidge nodded, grabbing their backpack, “what if it’s that Lance kid? You know captain of swim team? And our class president?” 

Keith hid his face from his friend, feeling his skin heat up at that name. Lance. He was the first boy Keith had checked out at this school, there was simply something different about him that drew him to Keith but they had only spoken a few times. 

“I highly doubt it, plus isn’t he like straight?” Keith placed the letter in his bag, mentally clearing time in his schedule to read it later.

Pidge shrugged, “I think he’s bi? Not sure but I’ve heard rumors, plus he’s always around that Hunk guy.” 

-

This went on for almost a month before Keith learned who was actually putting the letters in his locker. He had just turn the corner to where the lockers were, slightly rushing to grab his book, he had forgotten it before going to class. Crap, why did I forget it?! He quickly scanned the small numbers on every locker, his eyes reading the numbers before he bumped into someone. “Oh sorry, I didn’t see you there.” 

“It’s no problem man, sorry I got in your way.” 

Keith’s eyes went wide as he quickly turned his head towards the voice, the voice that he had memorized the selective times he had the pleasure of hearing it. Lance! “No, it’s cool, no need for apologies.” Keith laughed nervously and reached for the dial on his locker. 

Lance cleared his throat, “so are you grabbing something for someone?” 

He sounded nervous and Keith shook his head slightly, “no this is my locker,” he chuckled slightly, glancing at the tanner boy, whose eyes were wide as the moon. “You okay?” 

Lance opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking like a fish out of water, “wait wait wait wait this is your locker?!” 

Keith nodded slightly, he didn’t know what to say, why would Lance care if it was his locker or not? 

Lance groaned, dragging his hand down his face, “shit, this isn’t good. You’re telling me that this isn’t Nyma’s locker?” 

Keith nodded, “Nyma’s locker is 245, I’m 254.” He swung the metal door open, hiding a smile as he saw the familiar blue paper sitting on his books. 

“Then I gotta apologize…for the letters that you have been receiving.” Lance avoided Keith’s eyes and Keith felt his face go red. 

Lance has been writing those letters?! Does he like me???? Keith raised his eyebrows, “ why are you apologizing?” 

Lance stared at the ground, “they weren’t for you, they were for Nyma.” 

Keith’s face fell as he looked at the unopened letter, “ oh okay, I suppose that makes sense.” Keith grabbed the letter, ignoring how his hand shook as he handed it to Lance, “go get her man.” 

Lance stared at the letter, his hand hesitantly coming up to grab the blue paper. “Thanks man, um do you have the other ones?” 

Keith shook his head, shutting his locker, his book long forgotten. “Sorry, I kinda threw them away,” lie, “I thought they were a bit cheesy for my taste.” Keith adjusted his backpack and gave the tanner boy a smile. “I wish you luck.” 

Lance smiled, sending Keith a friendly salute before running to the right locker.

Keith slowly made his way towards the nearest restroom, the tears failing before he could lock himself in the stall. He gripped at his hair, tugging at the thick strands, just once, just once why couldn’t I have had someone? He thought about how happy Lance would be with Nyma and he wiped his eyes, new tears replacing the old ones quickly. Pull it together Keith, it’s a dumb boy who probably didn’t even remember your name. Keith grabbed some toilet paper and blew his nose, fuck class. He closed his eyes, letting his heart slowly fall apart. Least he still had the others letters, he could still pretend. 

I headcanon that Nyma dyes her hair all the time lol 

My poor son :( 

I hope you like it!

Sorry it took so long!

Thank you <333333333

What am I to you? PART 5

Jooheon was back and even if Y/N let him in her apartment, she wasn’t sure if she should let him in her life that fast again… So Jooheon proved it to her and that she could trust him. 

But he wasn’t the only one Y/N trusted… 

GENRE: Rated M for MATURE (I’m so sorry this chapter is pure smut and a little bit kinky shit lmao but still a lil fluff so here you go) 


Keep reading

Reyna Writes: Hello Again - A Louper Reunion Fic

@miracusims

:D

(Two things: let it be known that I know nothing about hacking, and that this is canon divergent…but I’m a fanfic writer, so that should surprise no one. :P)


Okay, fiddle with a code here, enter a new algorithm there–whoa, seriously? Someone was trying to trace him? Really?

Louis snorted and ducked through another digital backdoor, leading the tracer astray with a false IP address. Once that was done, he continued on with his work, smirking all the while. This was way too easy at this point–either Louis had gotten way too good at what he does, or his targets just kept getting dumber and dumber. Either way, this was basically child’s play now.

There was a small tap to his arm, and Louis paused.

Speaking of children…

Keep reading

Puppy Love - Part 1

Pairing: neighbor!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,470

Summary: The reader’s dog wanders off and she finds him hanging out inside of an Impala that belongs to her gorgeous new neighbor.


“Murphy!” 

You swear to god your dog is a ninja. He’s constantly sneaking off and getting into trouble. He’s worse than a little kid. He’s a 100 lb German Shepherd for Christ’s sake. You should be able to keep track of him.

“Murphy! Come here, buddy!” 

The beautiful beast is too smart for his own good. He’s a troublemaker for sure. He needs to know what’s happening at all times. You have a slight suspicion that he thinks he’s a police dog.

You quickly search the house and the backyard, you’re not surprised that he’s no where to be found. He tends to invade your neighbors lives. He’ll just waltz right into someone’s yard or house if he can. Sigh. You walk out your front door and start looking around.

Keep reading

Begin — Jeon Jungkook (01)

Words: 3283

Warnings: none

Description: You’ve never met your father, so you finally make the decision to go meet him in Korea. But what you found there was more than just a father.

Prologue [01] [02]

~

You stood at the door, heart on your sleeve, along with your birth certificate in your hands.

You didn’t get it, when you were in the apartment you rented, you were so confident. You practiced this several time in the mirror, just to make sure it was perfect.

But now, now that you were standing in front of the door, you were nervous.

What if he slams the door in your face? What if he doesn’t like you?

“God, I’m such an idiot! Why’d I come here in the first place?” You thought to yourself.

You really want him to accept you, but what if he doesn’t? What if everything ends up badly and he never wants to see you again?

How would you feel if you had a happy family and then some random girl came knocking at your door saying that you were her father? Wouldn’t that be so confusing?

You raised your hand to the doorbell, about to press on it, but you stopped yourself.

Did you really want to do this? Of course you did, you were just scared of rejection.

If he rejected you, what would you do? Go home and cry? Probably.

You didn’t care. You needed to see him. Whether he rejected you or not, you wanted to see him, and you wanted him to know that you’re his daughter.

Keep reading

Love Inversion Theory II

First!

Originally posted by dayaholics

A/N: I hope you all like! Next one will be more eventful :) this chapter consists mostly of Peter realizing things on his own


“So, are you going to talk to me or am I going to be victim to your ‘method acting’ all day?” You suddenly asked.

“Of course not,” he said around a thoughtful chew of breakfast food. His voice wavered and he was just barely able to catch the American accent in time. “You can tell me what’s up, you know,” you say comfortingly. Your hand moved up his thigh in a loving way rather than a sexy way. “Just nervous,” Peter managed to say after swallowing his food. “I’d be more surprised if you weren’t,” you laughed, smoothing out a napkin on the table. “After all, this movie-it’s just still a giant ‘wow, what?’ in my brain. I guess for you it’s like that times a billion.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Yes, of course.” What the hell is she talking about? 

You stood up a few moments later. “I have a present for you,” you randomly declared. “But it might take around fifteen minutes to get a hold of. Will you be alright here while I step out for a bit?”

The clothes which you bore didn’t fall under typical [Y/n] standards. These were more revealing. The top dipped down your neckline and showed more cleavage than you usually did. You looked gorgeous-of course, because when do you not?-but different. 

“No, yeah, yeah, of course,” Peter assured you, raising his arms over his head. Every move he made was an attempted relaxed and natural looking one. You gave him a double glance before shrugging. “Okay,” you smiled. “I will be back as soon as possible so don’t freak out. Oh! And your mom texted me. One, she’s a bit too pleased to see any pictures of us out together and a bit not too pleased with the ‘Tomdaya’ rumors. She makes a lot of marriage comments about us…”

You looked at him for a lingering couple of seconds, almost as if you were waiting for him to say something.

“Oh. I’ll-I’ll tell her right away to stop that. You know my moooooum.” He inwardly cringed at the slip up.

You tilted your head back in surprise. “What?”

“My mum. Gotta love ‘er,” Peter chuckled, pointing his fingers at you like guns. You popped your lips. “Okay. Well like I said I’ll just be out for a little bit…be careful.”

“You too,” he called after your retreating figure. 

Click. The door shut and Peter stared at it for a minute to ensure you wouldn’t come back. When he deemed it safe, he stood up abruptly. “What the hell?! Where’s the suit, where is my suit?!” He clamored over open suitcases and random assortments of furniture and flung a closet door open. Empty. 

Well, empty except for a gray hoodie. Peter pulled that on without really thinking about it then began to pace. 

[Y/n]. Tom. British? Someone’s mom. Waffles. 

Those were the only words that flew around his brain. He had to calm down, and soon. There wasn’t time to panic!

You telling him his mother texted threw him off guard since his parents had been dead for over half his life. He hardly remembered what it was like to have a mom. There had only ever been May and up until a few years ago, Ben. 

There was a laptop positioned neatly on the nightstand. Peter sighed in deep relief before opening it. 

The prompt for a password appeared on the screen and on impulse, he typed in the first dessert he shared with you. It opened. How convenient, he thought bitterly. Okay, Apple, time to not fail me with your pitiful excuse for a default browser.

(Safari was for losers. He firmly believe that, being an avid Google user and all.)

“Okay…uhm. Peter Parker,” Peter said his search out loud. You said something about the name, but not in the way he would have liked. You said it almost as if Peter wasn’t an actual person. 

“Wha…?”

‘Peter Parker (Earth-616), Marvel Database-Fandom Powered. Peter Benjamin Parker was born in Queens to Richard and Mary Par-’

He leaned away from the screen, half expecting it to blow up in his face. It wouldn’t surprise him. 

He scrolled down. 

There was a youtube link to some video titled ‘Peter Parker vs Flash basketball scene.’ Uhm. Yeah. Okay. 

Watching the video was a total waste of two minutes. Sort of. The school was, unnervingly, called Midtown. But its layout was definitely not his Midtown high. 

And that ‘Parker’ kid-not Peter. What the hell was up with that Flash person? Is this some elaborate joke? 

If so, Peter wasn’t understanding the punchline. If someone were to go to such lengths, why would they have someone who looked nothing like Flash Thompson be ‘Flash.’

The ‘up next’ logo was flashing to yet another video titled ‘Peter Parker vs. Flash.’ 

“These guys look nothing like me-!” Peter suddenly exclaimed mid way through the video. Some red headed girl was asking someone named Harry to help ‘Peter’ and Peter-the actual, real one-was not amused. 

“That guy looks nothing like Flash!” And Flash and I have never even fought like that. What is this, some cheesy high school movie? Maybe the names are a coincidence. He angrily paused the video, not wishing to hear it or watch it anymore. There was a few more movie clips-some media footage of Captain America and Tony Stark (that wasn’t new) but there was a thumbnail that caught Peter’s attention. 

It was a picture of him, sitting in his old room at the old complex and May used to live in. 

The video’s title read “Tony Stark Recruits Peter Parker | “Responsibility” Civil War Scene Full HD | Tom Holland.”

Okay, what the fuck. 

Tom-isn’t that what you were insisting Peter’s name was ever since he woke up? Tom Holland.

He warily watched the video. It all consisted of that one day Tony Stark decided to waltz in and recruit him. 

Only this video, it wasn’t from the point of view of Peter or Tony. It was a third person view, as if the camera person was filming it like a movie. Peter somehow thought he would remember another person recording from all different angles. 

With a knot in his stomach, he read through the comments:

Usernames like  “Parker Peter” or “Spider-Dork” just existed, and they all commented on this one video. 

“Tom Holland,” one comment read, “is the best Spider-Man!”

Another read: “Tom is the best” 

“Peter is such a daddy”

“Tom is so hot ugh”

“Tom Holland…the love of my life, more like”

“Tobey Maguire did better”

“Am I the only one who misses Andrew Garfield?” followed by a long string of replies:

“Yes”

“Yes”

“Nope”

“Wow what about Bucky no one ever gives him any love”

“YEp! I LOVE TOM HOLLAND I DON’T NEED ANDREW ANYMORE”

Peter stared at the comments with his mouth dropped open. The suggested videos to the side were all of “Captain America: Civil War” or “Spider-Man: Homecoming OFFICIAL trailer.”

It made him nauseous, so that with shaking hands, he opened up a new tab and typed in the name “Tom Holland.”

“Oh, no,” he groaned when new articles popped up. “What the fu-is that MICHELLE?! Am I dating Michelle?!” Indeed, there were articles headlined with things like ‘Tom Holland and Zendaya are dating!’  He scrolled away from that, not enjoying to feeling that one headline called Tom Holland a ‘cheater’ and accusing him of ‘dumping famed young adult author and girlfriend of three years, [Y/n] [L/n] for Spidey co-star, Zendaya.’ Another was labeled ‘Spider-Man: Homecoming opens for the first time tonight! We’re all excited-find out why!’

Peter finally found a wiki page and reluctantly clicked. The profile photo was of him, but not a photo he remembered taking.

He swallowed a thick lump in his throat and read aloud to himself “Thomas Stanley Holland, born the first of June in 1996, is an English actor and dancer. Holland is known for playing Spider-Man in the Marvel Cinematic Universe-”

Oh fuck. 


Tags

@literallykaylenn@tomxhotland@@manyfandomstohandle@negasonicteenagemess@theweaknessstories @ruefulposts @roseytom@kent-mcfuller-is-life @t4rt-deco  @the-mormon-girl-in-the-books @@fly-like-a-grayson

Sources

Vid One-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TcGHKrh8J8I

Vid Two-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWCi9Bxu1pk

Vid Three-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DESwBLlniCg

Tom Holland Wiki-https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Holland_(actor)

***any usernames/comments shown in the fic are not real-any similarities are pure coincidence. I own nothing and no one, except for this fic idea***