so i'm going to spread them out over the next few days

single dad , boxer!tom ♡ head canon

Summary: the biggest surprise of his life turned out to be the biggest miracle


WC: 2238

Warnings: Some language

Author’s Note: i went a bit over board, part 2, anyone? feedback is always welcome 

  • Amelia had taken over Tom’s world completely from the moment she landed on his doorstep at a young age of 2 with nothing but a note and a birth certificate
  • Tom was quite surprised to open his apartment door one morning on the way out to training only to find a small girl with wide eyes looking up at him
    • Oddly enough he was thrown off guard by the fact it felt like looking into a much smaller mirror
  • He wasn’t sure how long she had been there and tried to talk to her
  • She had looked down at her shoes, not engaging in much conversation with him
  • “Are you lost, darling?”
  • She’d shake her little head
  • “Mom said stay here”
  • And her small voice would squeak out a barely coherent sentence, making Tom squat down to her level
    • “Where’s your mum?”
    • “She left”
  • Poor Tom would have been so confused
  • He’d set down his gym bag and focus all of his attention on helping this “lost little girl”
  • Amelia wore a backpack on her frail shoulders, so Tom had thought maybe he could find some contact information in there
  • “Can I please see your backpack? It’s quite pretty!”
  • She’d perk up at his compliment and take it off of her shoulders, now excited to show him every feature of it
  • Tom couldn’t help but smile softly at the little girl who was rather excited to show off her backpack, as he found it quite adorable
  • He agreed to let her to unzip it, revealing a stash of clothing and a few papers tucked away
  • “May I see those papers, please?”
  • His voice would switch to a much gentler tone, hoping to coax her into allowing him to see if there was any useful information as to help her find her mum 
  • The soft brunette curls atop her head bounced slightly as she nodded, eager to share with Tom
  • He pulled the papers out and unfolded them, only to find a birth certificate accompanied by a multi-page letter
  • Curiosity coursed through him and he opted to read the birth certificate first
  • He smoothed out the paper as his eyes scanned the document
  • “So, your name is Amelia Grace Holl-”
  • His eyes would go tremendously wide
    • It would kind of click now after taking in her much similar appearance to him
  • She stared up at him with her eyes that now held a whole new meaning
  • He sat on the ground, Amelia copying his actions clumsily
  • She watched him intently as he reviewed the letter that was in his hands
  • He didn’t even remember her mother fully, a one night stand he was sure happened after a victory for a successful boxing match or something to that effect
  • He let out a heavy sigh, Amelia mimicking him
  • His heart warmed, for the first time in a very long time, as she giggled after copying him

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Prompt #7 "I'm not blushing!"

Magnus opened his eyes slowly, giving them time to adjust to the morning sunlight that flooded his bedroom, bathing the room in a warmth that Magnus could feel even when he was tucked under numerous blankets.

As he woke, he realized a handful things. One, he still had his makeup on from the day before, so he curled a finger and let blue mist remove it for him. Two, he was only wearing a pair of black boxers, which he was positive weren’t his because he only owned tight boxer-briefs. Three, this was his and his boyfriend’s first morning waking up next to each other.

Magnus grinned at Alec’s sleeping face, only about a foot away from his own. Alec looked so peaceful when he slept, his features soft and his lips slightly parted. His dark hair was messy, but still looked as soft as a cloud, and Magnus couldn’t help but lift his hand to brush a piece away from Alec’s forehead.

Shadowhunters were light sleepers, Magnus knew, they had to be. Threats could rise at any time, and they had to be alert and ready to spring into action. So Magnus wasn’t surprised when Alec’s beautiful hazel eyes fluttered open and landed on him.

Alec’s smile was blinding. He looked absolutely stunning with his messy hair and sleep-clouded eyes and light stubble covering his jaw. Magnus took a mental picture, wanting to save that image for the rest of his immortal life.

Neither of them said anything. Magnus had shifter closer tangling his legs with his shadowhunter’s, placing a gentle hand on the soft black fabric covering Alec’s chest.

“Good morning.” Alec finally said, and damn, Magnus practically melted at how deep and throaty his voice sounded.

“It is, indeed.” Magnus replied with a smile. He probably looked like a lovestruck dork, but that’s exactly what he was, so he couldn’t care less.

Alec closed what little space was left between them, pressing a soft, close-mouthed kiss to Magnus’ lips. Magnus returned the kiss, tried to get Alec to part his lips, but his boyfriend’s lips stayed stubbornly pressed together.

The look that Magnus gave when they parted seemed to ask the question he’d been about to voice, because Alec shyly looked down at Magnus’ chest and said, “Morning breath.”

Magnus laughed, and Alec looked at him strangely before he lifted his hand. With a simple flourish and a few blue sparks, both of their mouths tasted of mint.

A wide grin spread across Alec’s face. “I love you.” He said as he leaned in again, this time parting his lips as he captured Magnus in a passionate kiss.

Neither of them had intentions of their kiss getting so heated, but things led to other things, and within minutes, Alec had pulled Magnus on top of him and Magnus was trying to get Alec’s shirt off.

Alec broke away from the kiss, and from the feeling of it, Magnus knew that Alec hadn’t wanted to.

“I have to be at the Institute in fifteen minutes.” Alec huffed out a strangled breath as Magnus attached his lips to the side of his neck.

“A lot can be done in fifteen minutes.” Magnus purred into his boyfriend’s ear, a hand sneaking down Alec’s body.

Alec seemed to give in for a few minutes. Magnus continued to work on Alec’s neck, paying extra attention to his sensitive Deflect rune, but Alec suddenly pulled away.

“I really have to go,” Alec started, shifting out from underneath Magnus. “As much as I want to…you know…do that,” he began, standing up. “I know that once we start, I won’t want to stop.”

Magnus took a minute to look his love over, a smirk on his face. Alec was wearing a black shirt, as usual, and a pair of loose forest green sweatpants. He rolled out from under the covers and stood up out of bed, Alec’s black boxers loose on his hips, threatening to fall down at any second.

“Go do your job, Mr. Lightwood.” Magnus smirked, moving to stand in front of Alec, who automatically moved to wrap his strong, runed arms around Magnus’ waist.

“I’ll call you later, promise,” Alec said before ducking down to peck Magnus on the lips. “One more thing before I go, though.”

Magnus was confused. He tilted his head to the side as Alec removed one arm from around his waist, bringing his hand up to brush a piece of un-styled hair out of his face.

“Your eyes are beautiful.”

Magnus froze. He hadn’t even realized that he didn’t have his glamour up. Had his warlock mark been showing the entire morning?

Then he remembered Alec looking at him so lovingly, Alec kissing him good morning, Alec smiling at him like he was the most gorgeous thing in the universe. All while his cat-eyes were unglamoured.

A deep blush creeped up Magnus’ neck, coloring his cheeks, making him feel hot.

“Your blush is also pretty beautiful, just saying.” Alec said with a lopsided grin, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ flaming cheek.

“I’m not blushing!” Magnus exclaimed, eyes on the ground, but he was smiling.

This all felt like a dream. His whole relationship with Alec felt like a dream, actually, too good to be true. He’d never felt this loved in his entire life. None of the 17,000 other lovers made Magnus feel the way that Alec made him feel. Alec accepted him for who he was, he wasn’t thrown off by his warlock mark, he treated Magnus with respect that he’d never received from any other shadowhunter.

When Magnus finally looked back up, his eyes still unglamoured, he saw Alec staring at him. There was so much love in his gaze, so much adoration in his smile.

And Magnus knew, right then, that Alec was the love of his life.

(wow, this got a bit out of hand in length, sorry!! i hope that you like it! check out my prompts post and inbox me prompts that you’d like me to write!!)

Illegally evict my company out of the rented office space? I'm going to make you sparkle!

“Go insane, go insane, throw some glitter, make it rain!”

All names have been changed to protect the guilty as sin.

So this happened to my cousin. He works for a small startup media company (SMC) in a semi large city. This media company leases out space in an office building for offices, studios, and production rooms with a small detached storage shed just off the parking lot.  

A few weeks ago, the building owner sends a letter stating that SMC must leave the building within the next three days. Due to the recent hurricanes, another larger media company (VIP, you know them) got flooded out of their building and needed to use the studio to get back on line. Apparently, the building owner was double renting the space as a backup site for multiple different production companies (pretty illegal) and needed to perform an eviction (very illegal) to get them back on the air.

So SMC looks at their lease, sees that there is no clause for a speedy exit in it, tells the building owner that it’s not happening, and then hires a night time security guard just in-case building owner tries something shady. That night, the security guard is doing his rounds and the building owner shows up demanding to know who he is and why he is there. Guard states that he’s been hired to secure the site and that no one is allowed in after hours. The building owner gets into a huff, drives away, and then promptly calls the police about a trespasser in their property!

What they didn’t know, was that this security guard was an active Police Detective with that precinct. Cops showed up, talked to the Detective, and then promptly told the owner to, “Fuck off with that shit.” ….and then drove away.

Building owner did not take this well. When the guard left the office to go use the bathroom, the building owner snuck in, locked the doors, and revoked passkey access to everyone in SMC, including the guard watching the space. SMC promptly calls their lawyers to start emergency legal proceedings against the building owner to force them to re-open access to the space and abide by the terms of the lease agreement.

Here comes the twist. Building owner is a prominent business official, a “Pillar of the Community,” multi-millionaire rich as fuck with friends in high places, and a total disregard to anyone not on their level. Legal team shows up at the court, is given the run around for hours by court officials, until being told by the judge that they will not be allowed to file their suit due to multiple bullshit reasons. A “settlement offer” is put forward to refund the last month’s rent, exit the lease, and be given access to the space to clear out the equipment. Total bullshit offer, but what’s a small company to do? So, the space is emptied, gear removed, and a rush job construction buildout is being done in a nearby warehouse to get back to production.

Here comes the revenge! My cousin purchased 35 pounds of ultra-fine colored glitter as a going away present. And that shit was spread like herpes in a whorehouse! Sprayed into the vents, poured onto the fan blades, in the refrigerator, IN THE GODDAMNED ICEMAKER!  One guy brought an electric leaf blower to make sure it got into spaces with no access. It was put on top of attic access hatches so it would coat anyone who opened the door. This place looked like Pride Parade central booking!

If you watch any cable TV over the next few weeks, watch out for some of the people looking a little bit too sparkly.

anonymous asked:

Hi. I'm so glad your request are open again. I was wondering if you could possibly do a Spirited Away Au with Oni Genji. Like reader works in a bathhouse and Genjis a frequent guest there and with his playboy attitude and hard cash everyone there bows down to him. He sees reader and is immediately in love offering her gold, status, anything to make her his but she politely refuses cause she just likes to work. Idk I love your stories and this idea has just been on my mind for a while.


Surely working in the bathhouse wasn’t going to be as horrible as you thought it would be. The young woman who had taken you under her wing was nice enough to let you know that she had your bag and had even gone to great measures to make sure you had clothes that fit you properly. As long as you kept your head down and did your work, Yubaba wouldn’t turn you into an animal like she had done with the rest of your group. 

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Now and Not Yet, touken fanfic

Summary: Just Touka and Kaneki sharing a nice night together ✿♡

Rating: K+? something fluffy & a bit nostalgic | Words: 1,212 words

A/N: this is very short and weird, i wrote this not having a main plan of what i wanted to write, but i still wanted to write something so this is the result, haha.. i don’t know why i’ve been writing so much fluff lately, i think the angst is huge in the manga right now that my soul needs a tiny spark of happiness once in a while, but i’ll be back with the angst soon i promise 🙏 anyway, i hope you’re all having a nice day today, enjoy this and please reblog if you liked it! feedback is more than welcome 🐇💞🐐


He’s trying to do something with his hands, biting his lower lip in concentration until he smirks, and stares at her, brows arching to make her see.

“Look,” he repeats, encouraging her to look at the wall.

She does, and blurts out a flabbergasted gasp. Her body slightly jolts, excitement filling her chest when she realizes that Kaneki is forming a rabbit with his hands, the shadow perfectly projected on the wall.

A rabbit!

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| Stars of Fate. | Ignis x f!reader NSFW |

Here is a long ass fic to celebrate reaching 400 followers the other day! I adore each and every one of you, thank you for sticking with me and my crazy ass self. 

You were never one to believe in the concept of fate, that was, until one Ignis Scientia stepped into your life one day when looking at a pastry.

7039 words.

Some say that repeated coincidences do not exist, that for too many variables to combine means that whatever continues to occur must be fate. Some said that it applied to everything; jobs, money, friendships. In your experience, people had mainly applied the concept of fate to love, holding the idea that, no matter who you were, there was some sort of a happy ending for everybody.

You were slightly sceptical on the idea of fate yourself, in every form. You had worked hard to be where you were in regards to your career, your relationships with your friends, and so on. For someone to come along and say that none of that mattered because you were going to end up there anyway? Sod that, you believed that people determined their own destinies, took this so called ‘fate’ into their own hands.

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aspcun11  asked:

May I request a scenario where bakugo and shinsou (separately) meet up with their s/o after school and when they ask them how their day was they start crying because they've been so stressed and depressed lately? I love your blog so much and your comfort scenarios cheer me up whenever I'm struggling with my depression💕🙏🏼 Keep doing you!

Hello lovely and I thank you so very much for your kind words, it makes me really happy that I can cheer you up and I hope this will brighten or comfort your day. Aside from that, I very much hope I could write it well enough and that you’re going to like it <3


As soon as the tears show up and spill over, Bakugou feels a surge of panic and his heart feels like it fell right through to his stomach for a moment. He reaches for them and feels his hands hover at their sides for a moment, before he gently grasps their arms, unsure if more is welcome.

“What the fuck happened?” He asks, his voice a tad rough and short of growling. “Did something happen? I fucking swear if there was a fuck-face who upset you…” He trails off when they shake their head.

“Sorry, I just…” Their voice cracks and Bakugou pulls them against his chest and wraps his arms around them tightly. His partner inhales shakily and he feels the way they grip the back of his shirt and how his shoulder grows damp with their tears.

“It’s been so stressful.” They continue, voice muffled as they press their face against him. “And I’ve felt so bad lately and…”

When they fall quiet, he tightens his grip for a moment. “It’s okay.” He says, quiet and rough. “Fuck, I mean it’s okay to cry and shit. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m here, okay? You fucking got me.”

Their next inhale is even shakier and Bakugou hugs them closer, not letting go until they stop crying and their shoulders sag a little, if it’s in relief or exhaustion, he doesn’t know, but he hopes they feel at least a little better at letting their feelings out. Reaching up with one hand, he brushes some of their tears away.

“You can fucking talk to me, if you want to.” He says, still quiet and his face is serious and he scowls in worry. “Whatever shit is going on, I’m fucking here for you.”


The very second he sees them start to cry, he feels as though his heart lurched straight into his throat, his eyes widening for a moment. Instantly, he steps closer, smoothing gentle hands along their arms and he tries to comfort and soothe them at least a little.

“What happened?” He asks, voice quiet and a worried frown spreads over his face. “Did someone do something?” He pauses for a second, his voice softening. “Did I do something?”

His partner shakes their head and rubs a hand over their face, brushing and smearing tears aside.

“Today was just…” Their inhale sounds like it trembles in their lungs. “I feel so stressed and horrible and alone and…and it’s all just too much.”

They break out into tears again and Shinsou hugs them close, pulls them against his side and presses them close so they can rest against him. His partner drops their head to his shoulder, their back shaking slightly as they cry.

Rubbing a gentle hand in soothing patterns, Shinsou presses a few kisses against the crown of their head and holds them through the tears.

“I’m here for you.” He whispers when they slowly stop crying, settling more firmly against him and their breaths shake as they inhale deeply. “I won’t leave you alone, please let me be here for you.”

His partner leans their forehead against the side of his neck and Shinsou gently puts some pressure on their tense shoulders, kneading out some knots with long, strong fingers. His partner whispers a soft thank you against his skin.

Kissing their temple, he hugs them even closer. “I love you, you can count on me.”

His partner hugs him a little tighter and Shinsou returns it, pressing another soft kiss against their temple.

Mind your words (Please stop the hate)

There are days where it feels like I’m standing in the middle of a busy street, screaming my lungs out and only a handful of people hear what I have to say.

But a handful of people hearing me is better than no one hearing me. So I will continue to speak out against the anon hate, begging for it to stop.

 And it needs to stop. 

I’ve made previous posts here and here about all the hate going on, only to see it seem to be getting worse.

The varying levels of hate that I have seen in the last few days is just heartbreaking. From being mad that one-shots are being posted and not a series. To sending messages scolding writers about their fics (which they chose to read, no one forces anyone to read fics). To sending rules to a writer/blogger about what she is and is not allowed to write about and post about on their own blog!!!! And lastly, to hating a writer so much that a blogger made a blog with the name I-hate-______ (I am not going to name the blog, out of respect for her victim, who has been humiliated enough. The hate blog has been reported by me and several others), who then sent messages to everyone that their victim is following, telling them to boycott that blog. It’s just heinous.  

My point is that when there is so much hate out there that blogs are being made just to target and very publicly announce how much they hate certain blogs or people…. then it’s gotten out of hand. 

What if you told someone to kill themselves becuase you hated them so much over some little slight that you think they did to you? How the hell would you feel if someone killed themselves over words that you said? How would you live with yourself???? 

The words that you say can have a lasting effect on a person. A good or bad effect? That rests solely on you and the words that you chose to say. 

So please make the right choice. Because something has to give. This hate needs to stop. It takes so much more time and energy to spread hate!!! Spreading love takes so much less time to do and the benefits are so much, much better. You feel better about yourself. Other people feel better about themselves. Tumblr is a safer place to escape too, and it makes the real world easier to deal with. So why spread the hate?????? Spread love, say nice things, be a good person and you will be so much happier!!!!

Before you make the choice to send hate mail, or bully a person, think of this:

And would you want it said to you? 

Chances are that you wouldn’t, so why say it to someone else? Why treat someone else like that? Treat others the way you want to be treated. Kindness, love and respect go a long way in this world. More so than hate, lies and bullying. 

And at the end of the day, at the end of your life. You can look back over it and say to yourself…. I made a difference. I had the opportunity to spread hate and negativity throughout the world, but instead I chose to spread love and kindness. If you do that one tiny change, you will change the world. All it takes is one act of kindness to start a change, even if you don’t see it, it’s there. The kind words you said to someone encouraged them to keep writing, keep going and they go and write a best seller that helps change the way people view themselves. Or your kind words could stop someone from killing themselves, someone who could make a groundbreaking discovery. Or be the parent to a child who makes the discovery. You never know if it will happen or not, but do you want to take that chance that your hateful words and actions deprived the world of someone they needed?

I don’t want to take that chance. 

And you shouldn’t either. So stop with the hate. Instead focus on yourself and why have so much hurt and anger that you feel the need to send hate mail and bully people who have never hurt you before. And work on getting past it. Reach out to someone for help. Because there is always someone willing to help.

And if someone did hurt you, they did not mean it. It was not intentional. And maybe talk to them and let them know what happened and how you feel. But do it without sending hate.

There is only one world, this one. So lets make it a better place.

Stop the hate. Spread the love.

Tagging some blogs once again, so we can help spread the word. The hate needs to stop @everyjourneylove @theimaginesyouneveraskedfor @chaos-and-the-calm67 @marvelfanuniverse @averil-of-fairlea @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @girl-next-door-writes @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @ilostmyshoe-79 @manawhaat @mamapeterson @fromthedeskoftheraven @ozhawkauthor @lark-cale @meganlpie @lucifer-in-leather @wayward-mirage @winchester-writes @iwantthedean @atc74 @faith-in-dean @letsgetoutalive @dragonkitty @writerlivinginadarkworld @babypieandwhiskey @fizzy-custard @lady-kaaesien @writingsofa-hobbit @drabbletastic @growningupgeek @hobbithorse19 @motleymoose @luckynumber1213 @heilith @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel @goldenangelbloodcastiel @aerisawriting @beaflower77 @kaykayvoltage53 @guhnerketeer @torn-and-frayed @a-daughter-of-durin @sdavid09 @paigeinastory @crushing83 @buckysmetallicstump @nichelle-my-belle @howdidthisevenhappenanyway 

sophies-sideshow  asked:

Fic titlefor zoop bc im trash: "Fairest and Fallen" gud luk

The Fairest and the Fallen (and those who followed)

Judy wanted to be a Knight.

Nick wanted to be left alone.

Neither would really get what they wanted.

Here. Take my messy excuse of a story! I needed some practice between writing practicum and this is what I could come up with! It’s a little… nonsensical. But it’s the cause of sleepless nights, grad school, and a test tomorrow morning that I haven’t nearly studied enough for.


He is a thief, and she is a…

She is what she is. And she tells him, as she waves a sword in his face, that she’s a knight.

“A knight, huh?” He scoffs, and jingles the cuffs she’d ceremoniously slapped onto his wrists. They were rusted and red, and he hoped that whatever that was wasn’t blood but he had a sneaky suspicion-

She breaks him from his reveries. “You’re coming with me.” The daggers at her belt aren’t tied correctly, and they clink together when she turns on her heel. “The King has an order out for you. First knight to bring you back gets the reward.”

“First Knight.” He followed her, falling into step cheerfully. “I don’t think he said First Bunny. Do you get cuteness points or something?”

She spun round, and her sword was back. Held incorrectly, he noted. One swat of his paws and that thing would go flying halfway across the little crushed shell path they were standing on. He smiled, giving his reflection on the blade a little how-do-you-do. “Don’t” she intones, “call me cute.”

“Fine. Adorable. Endearing. Small and fluffy. Doesn’t matter. You’re still all of the above. And Knight hardly qualifies.”

She looks like she wants to cut him down. He doubted she could. But. Still. The look was almost enough. Then, with a haughty little puff of air, she collected herself up. The seashells under her feet rattled when she began to walk again. “Just… let’s go. I don’t have time for this.”

“Two weeks walk to the King’s. You’ve got plenty of time for me, Fluff.”

He’s right. And she’s regretting it dearly.

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Guilty (post HTTYD 2)

@graciekeeper99I had the idea of Astrid being told by someone that it was her fault that Stoick died and Valkas home was destroyed and she starts freaking out and avoiding Hiccup who doesnt blame her at all even after she tells him. Please and thank you

Fair warning, I’ve never done a prompt before. (FFnet version)

(Another part of my “writing when I really should be studying” saga)

Enjoy! :)

Astrid lifted her hand, shielding her eyes from the sun that reflected in the ice still covering a good part of Berk. Two weeks after Drago Bludvist’s attack, a lot had yet to be done. It would take Berk a long time to fix what he and his Bewilderbeast had destroyed. And she didn’t mean only the village.

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anonymous asked:

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a BTS reaction to their S/O recently losing their dad and not dealing well with it? This happened to me just a month ago and idk, I'd just like to imagine them comforting me (that probably sounds weird :/) Thank you in advance 🖤

hey! it’s not weird at all. i hope you like this.  



You swallowed against the tears in your throat and tried your best to sound normal. “Yeah?”

Jin squinted at the bright lights in the kitchen you stood in and ruffled the back of his hair sleepily. “What’s wrong? Did you need something?”

The air conditioning softly hummed through the apartment, the only sound in the otherwise quiet night. You bit your lip, willing yourself to not make a sound and let Jin know you had been standing here, in this kitchen, for nearly an hour now, crying your eyes out. “Nothing’s wrong. I just needed a glass of water.” A sob cracks through your voice even though you try hard not to break down in front of him.

Silence. Then, softly, Jin pads towards you, taking hold of your elbow and turning you to face him. You bring a hand up to your face, either to hide your sore eyes or clap it over your mouth to stop the next whimper from escaping, but JIn catches hold of it before you can and intertwines his fingers with yours. The corners of his lips go down as he sees how upset you are. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

You shake your head, hoping that he would dismiss this as something trivial if you tried hard enough to play it down. “I didn’t want to disturb you for something so small.” You let your fingers loose, but he held on. “Let’s go back to bed.”

He raised his other hand smoothed the bags under your eyes that told him so clearly that you were lying. “You’re grieving over your dad, _____. That isn’t small. Not to me.“ 

“It’s been months now. Why can’t I just move on? God knows I’ve kept you up long enough just after he died. I can’t keep–“

“_____.” He soothingly stroked the skin next to your tired eyes. “You have every right to take as long as you want to properly miss him because he was your father, not someone you can just wipe away.” He kissed the space between your eyebrows, your whimpers already quietening down as his words washed over you. The stinging in your chest hadn’t left yet, not quite so, but Jin’s understanding dulled that pain that had noiselessly taken over you ever since you had said your final goodbyes to your father. “I’m not asking you to be fine or pretend that you’re doing fine. All I'm asking you is to remember that you can talk to me, whenever you need to.”


Ever heard of the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’? 

Living example right here, everybody. 

Ever since your father passed away, Yoongi has just been there, an ever solid presence for you to turn to when everything else turned dreamlike and not possible without your father, a comforting presence that always knew when all the condolences and preparations for the funeral and life afterwards just became too overwhelming for you. 

You realised it at the quietest of moments, the ones where the things he did spoke volumes while he himself spoke nothing. 

You realise it the day after the funeral, the morning when even waking up seems like cheating your father out of something he should have been doing too. Yoongi quietly takes a day off from studio work, but tells you that everyone was having one anyway. 

You realize it the most when months later, Yoongi comes home to find you curled up under the sheets, panicking, all because while walking home, you’d seen a dog that was the exact breed your dad always had said was his favourite. When he finds out why, he doesn’t ridicule you or dismiss it with promises of everything being okay. He just gets in next to you, shoes and all, and pulls you into a hug so tight that it tells you everything he doesn’t say out loud.

When you’ve calmed down, he places a soothing kiss on your shoulder, then softly murmurs. “Tell me about him. About your dad.”


“_____? Are you alright?”

You looked up at yourself in the mirror, horrified. Your eyes were bloodshot evidence to how long and hard you’ve been standing in this bathroom and crying. 

A sound of annoyance comes from outside the door. Hobi slaps his hand to his forehead. “I’m so stupid, ____. You’re not alright, how could you be? I’m so sorry, I-“ You hear a sigh. “I’m not handling this well, am I?“

You let go of the edge of the wash basin and clear your throat, hoping to god that your voice wouldn’t let you down. “Handling what, Hobi?” You turn the tap and bring some water to your face, trying to bring down some of the tell-tale puffiness. 

Hobi rests his forehead on the door with a sigh. “Were you crying, ____?“

You shut the tap off, feeling the lump build up in your throat again. Hearing Hobi ask made you want to let the waterworks begin again. Great. Now my boyfriend thinks I’m an emotional wreck too. “No, I’m alright, Hobi. I’ll be out in–”

“Because it’s okay. It’s okay to cry, I mean.“

You stop looking around for paper towels and clap your hand to your mouth, whimpers already squeezing themselves out from between your fingers.

“Oh, _____.“ Hobi himself sounded on the verge of tears, He quietly berated himself for not checking up on you earlier. He spread his palm flat on the wooden door and prayed that he would be able to find the right words to let you know you weren’t alone. “_____, you don’t need to open the door, but….could you come a bit closer? Please?“

You furiously swipe at your tears, wishing you didn’t have to inflict this on him. You shake your head and walk closer to the door, and derisively choke out a strangled laugh. “Ahhh, I didn’t want to do this to you, Hobi. I’m acting like such a wimp.”

Hobi frowned and almost pulled the door open before restraining himself. “A wimp? _____, he was your father. And even though I thoroughly believe you might as well be one because you’re that amazing, you aren’t superhuman. Nobody expects you to move on in the blink of an eye.”  He opened his eyes and stared at the door, amazed at his own words, but worried about how well you had received them. “____?“

You swallow, the headache behind your eyes pounding, and thanked the heavens for the day you’d met this man. Then, you swipe the last tears from your face, and reach out to open the door, only to find him waiting, already waiting with a hug and a glass of water.


You haven’t cried yet. Your father died, it’s been weeks, and you haven’t cried yet. You grip the steering wheel tighter. What kind of child doesn’t cry when their father dies?

It’s the only thing you can think about even as Namjoon points out a spot you can park at. The two of you had decided on a night out tonight, one f the first ever since your father had passed away. To be honest, it had been your idea, but the quiet drive to the park had allowed the guilt of having fun seep into your thoughts again, driving you to again ask yourself the question you’ve been lost sleep over for the past few weeks. 

Why haven’t you cried yet?

It was a strangely busy night and it seemed that everyone had chosen the very same time to visit the carnival the park was holding as you and Namjoon had. A long line of cars impatiently waited behind you as you prepared to parallel park, for heaven’s sake. 

Once the ordeal’s almost done, you crane to make sure your lines were straight.

Out of a sudden, a bittersweet memory of your dad teaching you to drive rose through the folds of your fumbling mind. The only time not being straight is a problem is when you parallel park. His jovial voice rang through your head, almost like he was there sitting right next to you again, and yet reminding you that he was not.

“Oh, ______.“ The next thing you know, Namjoon is holding you as close as he can from the other seat, your tears already soaking his shirt as he murmurs consolingly. He holds you even as your sobs wrack through you, even as you realise you’re finally crying, and then eventually remember why you’re crying, which makes you cry even harder. He only moves to occasionally wipe your tears away and doesn’t say a word, because he knows how hard you’ve been quietly struggling with the very same.

At last, when your sobs temper down to little whimpers, he takes your face in his hands and kisses your forehead. contentedly 

“I miss him, Namjoon. I miss him so much, what do I do?“

“Just remember how much he loved you, and keep living your life how he’d wanted you to live it. Just be happy, okay? Preferably with me, but be happy, because that’s how he’d want you to be.“


Honestly, you had no idea what you would have done without him. Sure, you would have survived, but having Jimin beside you made it easier. 

Having him beside you as you repeatedly accepted condolences, which, even if made in good meaning, made you want to scream in annoyance, helped.

Having him beside you, as you slumped onto the foot of your bed, exhausted after a long day of standing at the funeral, too tired to think of something to protest with as he fussed over you, bending to slip your new shoes off your feet and rub your sore feet with soft murmurs of comfort, helped.

Having him beside you as you realise that how much ever you try, you cannot sleep, despite the overwhelming fatigue that swallowed you, as he notices that the soft breathing he associated with your sleep did not come, as he understands and attempts to help you get through your sudden realisation that tomorrow your father would still not be alive, helped.

Months later, when you pluck up the courage to visit your father’s grave, having him beside you helped. His hesitant smile, his wordless understanding, everything. He helped. 


It was amazing, really. The way he picked up on your moods with an ease that your closest friends couldn’t even begin to imitate was amazing. You’re almost not surprised when, a few weeks after the funeral, a night after a small reunion celebrating a younger cousin’s birthday, he pulls you closer in bed and asks you if you were sad.

As simple as that. Not if you were okay, or fine. He simply asks you if you were sad, like he sensed that the fact that today was one of the many birthdays to come you would celebrate without your father weighed heavily on you. With a heart brimming over with memories of your father and love for Tae, you nod, a simple answer that did not justify what you felt at that moment.

When he feels you nod through the dark, he takes hold of your face and raises it so he can meet your eyes. “You know, my grandmom said this to me when I used to miss my parents just after they had to start living away.“ He brings a hand to your chest, long dainty fingers nudging the skin just below your collarbone. “You know that hurt you feel when you miss someone, right in your heart?“ He smiled and brought his fingers up to brush some hair away from your forehead. “It’s the person knocking on your heart to remind you that they’ll always be there, right inside, safe and sound.“ 

His hand stilled in your hair. A faint blush you can just make out by the slight light spilling through the windows rises to his cheeks. “I know it’s not very– I mean, it’s very kiddish–”

“No.“ You blink away tears and smile at him, a full grin that had not so long ago seemed impossible to you. “It’s perfect.”


You looked down at your clothes and bit your lip. You had debated for long before deciding on what you were wearing. After all, what was the right thing to wear when visiting a grave?

You’d gone through casuals, flannels, even dress shirts. Every outfit was too flashy, too demure, too wrong. You had been burrowing through your closet for something to wear, something appropriate enough to wear to your father’s grave. Just when your agitation almost took hold of you, you came across an old sweater your father had gifted to you. You had dismissed it as silly back then but the childlike patterns and knitting now reminded you of your father’s sense of humour. There was no question of you not wearing it, even though it was the middle of summer.

You sigh and sink onto the bed, missing him even more as the soft wool clings to you in the heat.  You wished you’d worn the sweater at least once when he was still alive. Not wanting to go down that road, you look around at the mess you’ve left around the bedroom in your quest to find something to wear. With a laugh of melancholy, you nudge the shirt you’d worn when you took Jungkook to meet your dad for the first time.


He wasn’t quite adept with words and you knew that. What amzed you was how hard he tried to make up for it. His patience and willingness to let you grieve at your own pace was incredible. Above all, you loved the little things he did, the quiet and wordless things he did in secret, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

He didn’t have to spout eloquent passages about how he understood and how he would still love you when you finally break free of your grief and the isolation that came from it. It was crystal clear from the way he held you the nights you couldn’t sleep and could only cry, or the nights he just knew that you needed space. 

With a moment of clarity tinged with sorrow, you drew the shirt into your lap and fondly noticed that the shirt you wore then and the sweater you wore now couldn’t be more different from each other. Yet they both bore the same quality of being connected to people you loved the most in the world, namely your father and Jungkook. 

You sighed, a new calm settling over that inhibition you’d been carrying around ever since you decided to go to the graveyard today. You set the shirt down and walked to the bedroom door and opened it, looking around for your keys. Instead you found a nervous Jungkook, stopping him right in middle of another pace around the hallway outside your bedroom. You were surprised he hadn’t burnt tracks into the carpet already.

“Uhh.“ Jungkook raised his hand to the back of his neck, seemingly apprehensive, but his eyes were bright and hopeful. “Can I come with you today? If you don’t mind, I mean.“

thanks for asking me to write about something so personal, anon.

and to the rest of y’all: my ask box is always open, you can message me too. feel free to come talk.

Grantaire being indoctrinated converted by Bossuet and Joly (1.2 k)

Bossuet chains his bike to the fence with three locks. He really likes this one, he’d hate to lose it. He trots up the stairs, whistling between his teeth, but when he reaches Joly’s floor he stops. There is a boy standing in the gallery. His back is turned to Bossuet but he seems to be staring at the closed front door. It’s covered in random stickers, a staple of student housing architecture.

“Excuse me,” Bossuet asks. “Are you lost?”

The boy turns around. Actually, he doesn’t look that much younger than Bossuet. Hell, maybe he’s older. His face says twenty, the shadows under his eyes say forty.

“We are all lost,” he replies, his voice level. “Lost in the empty space of existence.”

Okay, that’s different. Bossuet gives him a bemused smile.

“No, I’m not lost,” the other replies. “I live here.”

Bossuet takes in the messy hair and the green checked shirt and his face lights up. “You’re Grantaire!”

Grantaire raises his eyebrows. “Okay that’s creepy, can you tell me my purpose in life too?”

“I’m Joly,” Bossuet says, extending his hand. He shakes his head. “I mean. I’m Joly’s friend. Bossuet.”

“I was going to say,” Grantaire says, shaking his hand with a lopsided grin. “There can’t be two Joly’s. I’m surprised there’s even one.”

Bossuet doesn’t know what he means by that, but he gives Grantaire a friendly grin. “Joly told me you made a great first impression.”

“On him, apparently, yeah,” Grantaire grimaces. “Not sure about the others.”

Bossuet laughs, but suddenly he frowns. “Wait, Joly said you were a math student.”

Grantaire gives him a blank stare.

“Shit, really?” Bossuet gulps. Grantaire does not look like a math student. He grimaces. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, feeling a little ashamed. “I-”

“Oh no, I agree,” Grantaire says bitterly. “I should not be a math student.”

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this is inspired by @suplosers‘s absolutely hilarious incorrect spiderman quotes. specifically, by this one, this one, and this one. also by four drink amy santiago because amy santiago is the love of my life. enjoy a very silly and short fic. oh, i also tag my wife @spideychelle-romanogers, a gem @spideychelleblessup, and the always lovely @bellamywarriorblake.

four drink michelle is forward and horny (ao3 link)

It’s only fitting that the first time Michelle drinks, she does so with Peter and Ned. They’re all in Boston for school and it’s orientation week and there are lots of frat parties going on. So, naturally, Michelle insists that Peter and Ned join her, her roommate, and a few of their new friends on their adventure to some of the frats hosting Thirsty Thursday parties.

They all pregame in Michelle and her roommate’s small double and drink vodka that tastes like death. Apparently, alcohol doesn’t really get better than that either. Which, Michelle thinks offhand, might just be a result of the fact that none of them were willing to pay more than ten dollars for a bottle. But whatever the truth may be, Michelle drinks shitty vodka, quickly, in shot glasses, so she doesn’t have to deal with the taste.

Which is how after four drinks, a very drunk Michelle is draping herself across Peter as they stand by the wall in a dark basement at one of the frat houses. He’s got an arm around her waist to steady her, and she would be upset but she honestly thinks she might need it right now. (She’s not entirely sure at the moment, honestly.)

She’s mumbling something about how Peter really should have just gone to Harvard and not MIT beause MIT is great and all but MJ’s at Harvard and then they’d be able to study together like they had in high school and she wouldn’t have to suffer through gen chem all alone. Peter’s chuckling and then he tells her that she doesn’t need his help in Chemistry because she’s a chem major and she should be the one helping him.

For some reason, that pisses her off. It’s a compliment, but it’s entirely too nice. He can’t be too nice to her or else she’s going to fall in love with him and she can’t have that happening on her watch. So she steps back slightly, pouts, and jabs a finger into his chest as she spits out, “Fuck me.”

Peter looks absolutely stunned and taken aback and his mouth opens in that silly way where you just want to smack his jaw back up to where it belongs. And there’s a blush forming on his cheeks and he’s about to say something when Michelle finally realizes her mistake. Her eyes widen and she gets out, “I mean fight me.” She giggles, hoping it seems like this was just a drunken mistake. Which, in all honesty, it was. But there was a truth to it she didn’t want him to know. “Damn autocorrect.”

Peter scrunches his eyebrows together and it’s too cute. “MJ, we are having a verbal conversation.” He starts to smile a bit, blush still present on his cheeks. But MJ wants him to stop.

“Shut up, loser.” She smacks his shoulder and pushes herself off him so at least he won’t have that to hold over her. She leans back against the wall and crosses her arms over her chest, slightly off balance and feeling like the world is spinning. Peter leans back and grabs hold of her when she starts to drift down the wall.

“It’s okay, MJ.” Peter sighs, a bit sad. “You’re drunk. It was just a mistake.” He pulls her back up so she’s standing straight and she drapes her arms back around his neck, leaning her head down onto his shoulder, even if the angle is awkward.

She pokes his nose and laughs. “Boop!” He just smiles at her, fond. “You love me.”

A smile. His eyes twinkle when he gently whispers, “I do.”

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Say Hello

Read on FFN here

Washington, DC, USA

“You should contact him.”

McGee looked up from his computer and gave Bishop a sad smile. She had tried so hard to convince him over the past weeks, and she did not seem to be planning on giving up any time soon.

He sighed, “Bishop, we’ve been over this.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “If you would just stop being so stubborn.”

“I’m not,” he huffed.

“Look, if you won’t contact Tony about the wedding, I will,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

He shrugged, “Whatever.”


She started typing on her computer, but could still feel McGee’s gaze on her.

“Fine,” he huffed loudly.

She looked up at him, a sparkle in her eyes, challenging him, “Fine.”

Paris, France

The loud ping of his phone woke Tony up and he rolled over with a groan. He reached for his phone blindly and blinked as the bright light hit his eyes. An email notification had popped up on his screen. A small smile formed on his face when he saw who it was from.


The sleepy voice brought an even bigger smile to his face, the email suddenly less interesting than it had been a second ago. He put his phone back onto the nightstand and turned back around.

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anonymous asked:

Prompt suggestion if you'd be interested bc Ben/Kylo thing gave me an idea: Techie accidentally sleeping with Kylo instead of Matt and it actually being really good bc Kylo doesn't hold back like Matt does (Matt's scared to hurt his Techie :c) and and and idk what else I'm sorry. I hope this isn't too specific or too vague ;3;

“Go back to your quarters, Tech’,” Lieutenant Jones says, patting Techie on the shoulder. “I’m signing you off for the rest of the afternoon. You can’t work when your eyes are this sore.”

Techie sniffles but nods as his superior gives him a gentle push towards the door, his vision growing blurrier by the second. He knows it’s been a while since he’s had a flare-up that’s been this severe and it won’t be long before his eyesight has clouded completely. Counting his steps and feeling along the walls of his brother’s star destroyer, Techie wonders if he should call Matt or Armitage for help, but both are still on-shift and not due off for another few more hours. Even then, Armitage has a terrible tendency to fuss anxiously over his little brother, and as the General of the First Order, Techie doesn’t want to burden him unnecessarily. He’ll merely go to his quarters, take his medication and wait for Matt to come home.

But as he rounds the corner to his quarters, Techie finds himself colliding with someone and he’s knocked back to the ground, eyes streaming as he tries to blink the soreness away.

“S-sorry,” Techie stutters, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t see very well—”

“It’s fine,” a strong voice replies. “No harm done.”

It’s a voice Techie recognises, a voice that’s soothed him during his harshest of nightmares and make his skin prickle during their most intimate of moments.

“Matt?” Techie squints as he looks up, but only manages to see a blurry silhouette above him, offering him a hand. The figure’s hair looks darker than Matt’s but Techie puts it down to his failing vision rather than actual fact. He can make out the shape of Matt’s face; his nose and ears, his plump lips. “Mattie? My eyes—they’re bad again. Everything is blurred and I know that it won’t be long until I lose it completely.”

Matt, surprisingly, says nothing as he pulls Techie to his feet, but Techie holds tightly onto his hand, absently noting that his lover’s hands feel softer.

“Take me home?” Techie asks. “Please, Matt. I don’t want Armitage to see me like this. He’ll worry.”

Armitage?” Matt asks in reply, and Techie frowns in confusion.

“My brother…?” Techie replies. “Armitage Hux. General Hux? Mattie, I’m sorry, I don’t have the time for your jokes, please,” Techie whines, giving a tug on his lover’s hand, urging him to hurry, because everything is turning black. “I know our quarters are right there.”

“Right,” Matt says, tone changed suddenly; softer, more focused. “I’m sorry. Come on.”

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Steve Rogers/Captain America - I’m Sorry I Never Told You - Part 3

Originally posted by unchartedghoul

Series Summary: Being an Avenger is the most challenging thing you’ve ever done, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. You’re in a relationship with Steve and that’s something you never thought you’d have, you never imagined being so lucky as to have someone like him. However, there is something that you haven’t told him or the others. A secret that you’ve fought to keep hidden. What happens when you have no choice but to tell Steve and the rest of the team your biggest secret?

Part Summary: You and Steve are shocked, yet happy when Jeremy calls Steve daddy. The next day arrives and it’s time for a party, you’re so happy to be spending time with your Avengers family and your BAU family. The party is amazing and everyone as a good time. At the end of the day, you and Steve have a surprise for Jeremy and after a conversation with Will earlier on in the day, Steve wants to talk to you about something.

Pairing/s: Steve x Fem!Reader. Fem!Reader x Jeremy x Steve (Familial)

Characters: Fem!Reader, Steve Rogers, Jeremy Y/L/N, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Peter Parker, Bucky Barnes,   Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, William LaMontagne, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Emily Prentiss, Jack Hotchner, Henry LaMontagne. Thor Odinson, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Vision, Clint Barton, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, David Rossi, Danny Smith (OMC), Michael LaMontagne (Mentioned)

Warning/s: None, this is just very fluffy.

A/N: Thank you to @molethemollie for being my beta!!

Part 1 / Part 2

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So, totally got inspired by this video I stumbled upon, and needed to write a freewood fic immediately. 

Gavin couldn’t say he necessarily enjoyed working at a Costco. Sure, it wasn’t the worst job he could have, but it didn’t really have him jumping for joy every time he woke up at an ungodly hour to get ready to take inventory.

That being said, he loved quite a few things about his job–the people were a plus, the pay wasn’t bad, and the employee discounts meant he could actually shop at the damn store he worked for, which was far better than he could say for the other shops he had previously been employed at.

“Oi, B! You’re gonna fucking love this new shipment we got,” Dan said the moment Gavin entered the backroom.

He waited until Gavin had locked his belongings away in his locker and donned the required red vest before dragging him out onto the sales floor.

“Christ B, what’s got you all fired up? Gonna rip my bloody arm off if you pull any harder.”

“Ah, you’ll thank me in a sec.”

Gavin doubted it highly, but he was proven wrong the moment Dan dragged him to one of the large center aisles. Gavin’s eyes widened as he spied three beautiful pianos displayed, still untouched by any curious customers or sticky-fingered children.

“And guess who managed to convince Mark to let a certain big-nosed twat sell them today?” Dan said smugly. Gavin’s head snapped up to meet Dan’s eyes. He grinned widely.

“B! I bloody love you, B!”

“Yeah, I know you do. Go on, get acquainted. Store opens in 5, B.”

“Cheers B!”

Gavin didn’t hesitate to bolt over to the lovely things. He ran his hand gently over the top before sitting at the bench. His fingers dances over the keys in a few simple chords before he let out a small laugh. It’d been too long.

The store opened and he began his usual routine, but he never strayed far from the pianos. A few kids stopped by to bang on the keys and Gavin had to bite his tongue not to snap at them before they were dragged away by their harried parents. At long last, there was a lull in the initial opening swarm and he sat back down at the bench. He didn’t have a song in mind, just the itch to touch those gleaming keys. For a few minutes he let his fingers create a tune while he smiled at the passers-by.  

Jack, one of the floor managers, walked by then, his usual clipboard and smile combo present. Gavin almost stopped playing but Jack waved him down.

“You’re drawing attention to the sale, so keep it going,” he said with a laugh. “I didn’t know you played, Gav.”

Gavin shrugged, “used to.”

“Well, if you’re taking suggestions, could you play some Adele? She’s gonna be big some day.”

Gavin grinned at the familiar joke and saluted, flawlessly transitioning to “Someone Like You.” He let it guide him, becoming completely involved with the music, and only stopping abruptly when he noticed another person sat at the piano on his left.

“Oh! Sorry! Did you need any assistance?” Gavin stuttered immediately, hoping no one saw him ignoring a paying customer for who knows how long. Especially a bloody attractive paying customer. Tall, sandy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and that smile. Gavin didn’t know whether he wanted to melt into a puddle or disappear into the ether out of sheer embarrassment.

“No, no, sorry to interrupt,” the stranger said, and his deep voice made Gavin’s stomach clench excitedly. “I was actually hoping to join you.”

“Um, wot?”

The customer looked at him sheepishly. “It isn’t every day you get an opportunity to do some impromptu piano duets out in the wild.”


When the man’s smile started to slip, Gavin unfroze and immediately scrambled for words, none of them intelligible.

“Do what the nice man says B,” Dan said, coming out of the shadows like goddamn Batman and slapping Gavin hard on the back.

Gavin glared at him before shooting the man–now staring at the two with amusement–a self-conscious grin. “Did you have a preference or–”

“That Adele song is fine with me.”


Gavin cleared his throat and nodded, starting the first few notes mechanically and waiting for the stranger to jump in. He nearly startled when the man did, but kept it together just by pure instinct. Bloody hell, the man was good. Kept up perfectly with Gavin and added his own flourishes to match Gavin’s embellishments. They both got lost in the music, completely unaware of the crowd they drew and the multiple videos that were being filmed. They finished, both sustaining their last chords, and they looked at each other, smiles wide across both their faces.

They startled at the sudden clapping, and they whipped around to look at the crowd. The man rubbed the back of his neck and Gavin flushed down to his roots, giving Dan a half-hearted glare when he whistled loudly from the front. He turned back to the man.

“You’re incredible!” He gushed.

“Naw, I’m completely out of practice, but you!”

“No, I haven’t played in bloody ages–”

“Well, I couldn’t tell. You could go pro.”

“You’re too kind, uh–”

“Jesus, that was rude of me. Ryan. Ryan Haywood,” he extended his hand to Gavin, and Gavin took it immediately.

“Well, Ryan Haywood, I think you play beautifully.”

Ryan smiled down at the floor and Gavin nearly burst from how endearing he found it.

“Uh, I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Maybe, uh, after some coffee or something?”

Gavin’s eyes widened in shock before a brilliant smile spread across his face.

“I would love that.”

“Great!” Ryan fumbled for his phone and nearly dropped it twice in his haste. He handed it to Gavin. “I’ll text you my number.”

Gavin nodded and typed in his name–Gavin Free (The Piano Guy)–and handed it back. Ryan chuckled as he read it and texted him immediately.

“I’ll text you after my shift?”

“Doun–sounds great. Talk to you soon.”

Ryan walked away then, and Gavin watched him go, dopey smile permanently etched on his face. That is, until Dan sidled up next to him with the smuggest look Gavin has ever seen.

“Well! Daniel Gruchy, master matchmaker. You’re welcome, B!”

“Oh, piss off.”

“I can’t wait to tell this at your wedding.”


Diamond in the Rough | 02

Summary: When you first meet Jeon Jungkook, business heir of Busan, you refuse to let things escalate to more than being friends. But you can’t help it when you fall for him, when you let yourself imagine a future with him by your side. Until the bliss comes crashing down when Jungkook reminds you that you, a worthless Daegu girl, can never be good enough for him, and the low that follows the high of loving him is worse than anything you could have imagined.
Word Count: 14.2k
Genre: angst
A/N: thank you guys for waiting! <3 and I hope you enjoy it!

Part 1

“I still can’t believe you’re leaving.”

“Yeah, well. Believe it, kid.”

“Kid,” you snort, untying your work shoes and kicking them into the corner of your room to be dealt with later. No classes and no work tomorrow meant sleeping in, and you couldn’t be more relieved. “You’re only three years older than me.”

“Still older,” Hoseok grins. He’s lying on your bed, his head and half of his upper body hanging off the mattress, still dressed in his sweaty clothes from dance practice, but you’re too exhausted to call him out on it. You weren’t sure when he’d gotten here, but Hana was already asleep when you got home, and Hoseok had been napping, clearly forgetting all about a shower. “I keep telling you to call me oppa.”

“In your fucking dreams, Hoseok.”

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3.0 | a good way (theater au! joshua)

you would be best friends, always.  nothing would ever come between the two of you, right?

wc. just under 8.8k (whoopS) | fluff, angst, it’s all here | dedicated to my sweet choco ( @choco-seventeen ) for supporting me while writing and basically becoming this fic’s second mom

It was strange.  Weird.  Practically unfathomable and there must be some kind of mistake.  The play had those two characters as romantic leads.  The ones who slowly turn to look at each other, catch the starry glint in the other’s eye before slowly leaning in, before slowly closing their eyes, before slowly feeling their heartbeat accelerate because oh heavens this is it—before slowly kissing each other for the first time with such tender passion some members of the audience start to cry.

Those roles were not ever meant for the ones who have been friends since seventh grade, where one of them accidentally tripped and tossed their lunch all over the other, rendering the former an apologetic mess and the latter slightly smelling of garlic for the rest of the day.  Not for the ones who stayed up far too late binge watching whole seasons of anime because they finally turned in that big project and it’s in fate’s hands now.  Definitely not friends who are each other’s best friends, always.  Never them.

But when the director swings back to the two of you, the mischievous and excited glint in his eye is unmistakable.  His giddiness even bubbles over and he repeats himself, happily gazing between you and the best friend of 6 years standing beside you.  "Joshua, [Y/N], you’ll be the best two leads this stage has ever seen.“

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poetry — p.p.

wc: 1.3k
summary: “i find a solace in the words i write.” in which she writes to alleviate the chaos of her emotions. (requested)

tags: @theclonewarss @peacefulmusician @grant-valdes-holland @sunrisehunny @spideyboys @lil-spidey @peterletmebeanavengerparker @captainswriting @quacksoff @nyx-nymphette @spideyyss @tomhollandisthicc @underoosie @marvelsdaughter @ladysnowren @spideyyparker @rooyeun

For as long as she could remember, (Name) loved to write. She assumes her passion blossomed from her love of reading. Words provided a safe haven for her, a place of escape and refuge. And now, she found that solace in the poetry she created with the ink from her pen.

She was never found without her journal full of the poetry she could never express verbally. At any free moment, she was hunched over and scribbling away as ideas upon ideas flooded through her brain.

“Whatcha writing?” came the voice of her best friend, and clichély known crush, Peter Parker. Her eyes slightly grew in size and she slammed her journal shut. She lifted her head to make eye contact with Peter who gave her a quizzical stare.

“It’s nothing,” she promised. He playfully rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, (Nickname), we share everything. Let me read whatever you were writ-”

“No!” she nearly yelled, cutting him off mid-sentence. Peter flinched back a tad at her sudden outburst. A slow trickle of guilt swam in her veins.

“Sorry, it’s just, it’s not finished,” she half-lied. It was true that a small percentage of the poems she wrote weren’t finished. Yet they were too personal to share out loud—even with your best friend. The words she wrote gave her comfort to the feelings she repressed deep inside; the feelings she was sure Peter would never come close to understanding.

“Okay..? Well, whatever it is you have in there, I’d love to read it someday. You’re an excellent write, (Name),” his compliment set a fire to her body. A soft pink bloomed on her cheeks and she bit her lip to hold back a smile.

“Thank you, Peter,” she replied and he gave her a bright grin in return. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a quick side hug.

“Anything for you.”

Her day passed by in a haze. Her emotions felt like they were on a rollercoaster today and she had written more than normal. The cool metal of her locker momentarily soothed the pounding headache she had as her head pressed against her closed locker door.

“Are you okay?” she heard Peter ask. Her head lifted slightly to look at him before she nodded.

“Yeah, just a headache,” she mumbled. Today hadn’t been the best day and she knew Peter could sense it, but he didn’t press the idea.

“Am I still coming over today?” he hesitantly asked and she pulled her head off her locker, nodding.

“Of course, you still have to help me study for that chemistry test next week,” she teased. She moved to leave the school and make the trek back to her apartment building. As they walked the streets of Queens, her body slightly tensed as she felt Peter’s hand brush against hers. A wild flush of red appeared on both of their cheekbones when Peter boldly encapsulated her hand with his.

She tried not to think too much of it. Best friends held hands all the time, right? Right? They didn’t let go of each other’s hands until they reached her front door, so she could grab her key. Upon unlocking the door, she entered her small apartment, tossing said keys onto the counter and kicking her shoes off by the couch.

Peter also pulled his shoes off, setting them next to hers and followed her into her bedroom. (Name) dumped her backpack by the foot of her bed and flipped on top of it. Peter laughed at her actions, plopping down in her desk chair.

“I don’t wanna study,” she whined into her mattress. Peter laughed again.

“C’mon, the sooner we get done, the sooner we can watch a movie,” he reasoned. She let out a huff and pushed into a sitting position. Her hands grabbed her bag, pulling the books she needed—journal included—out of it.

After a few hours of Peter helping her understand certain terms and explaining different theories, she closed her textbook. She sat it down by her journal and stood up, stretching her arms above her head.

“I’m gonna go get some water and snacks. You want anything?” she asked, moving towards the door. Peter shrugged, a slight smile on his face.

“Just a water, please,” he asked and she nodded, leaving the room. As soon as she left, his eyes darted towards her journal filled with her untold secrets. Peter’s eyes cautiously stared at the door frame as he clasped the journal in his fingers.

It sat on his lap for what felt like hours when it was only a few seconds. He knew he shouldn’t invade her privacy like this, but his curiosity got the best of him. He opened the poem to the middle and his eyes trailed along the intricately written poems.

His heart twisted with sadness as he read the way his best friend expressed her emotions. The poems expressed her thoughts on her unrequited feelings, her anxiety and so much more. He didn’t even realize she had entered the room until it was too late.

“Here’s your wat-” her words cut off as she looked at the object in Peter’s hands. She thought she put that away. “Where did you get that?”

Guilt corroded his veins as his mouth flopped open and closed. “I, uh, I, um just saw it sitting there on the bed and my, uh, curiosity killed me. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

He was a stuttering, flustered mess. They stood there for a moment in silence as she mulled over his words.

“(Name), what do you mean by these? Is there something going on?” he tentatively questioned. She sighed, dropping her arms that were crossed down to her sides. She plopped onto her bed and could feel the unwelcome tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

“I just,” she sighed, letting out a deep breath. Peter moved to sit next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She suddenly felt a tidal wave of emotions crash over her head. Before she could stop them, one two three tears slid down the apples of her cheeks, and dripped from her chin onto her jeans. All the emotions she had been suppressing were now on the front lines and she couldn’t stop them.

Peter pulled her into his chest, calmly stroking her hair and whispering soothing words of comfort into her ear. When she calmed down enough, she sat up, rubbing at her eyes. She let out a shaky laugh and made eye contact with Peter.

“Sorry, it’s just, I feel a lot of emotions, a lot of the time. Writing is the only thing that calms me. I find a solace in the words I write,” she explained and Peter gave a reassuring smile.

“I just have a quick question,” her eyebrows furrowed. “Were those unrequited feelings ones about…me?”

She bit her lip and shyly looked down at her carpet. A deep rouge peppered her cheeks and she hesitantly nodded. Her head lifted to his, but she continued to avoid eye contact with him.

“I, um, yes, they are. I’m sorry if you don’t understand it but I-” a warmth spread from the top of her head down to her fingertips and toes. Peter’s lips moved in a lazy fashion against hers and she slightly pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. When Peter pulled back, her eyelids fluttered, her brain clouded in a daze.

His forehead pressed against hers and she bit her lip, a smile still managing to peek through. He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his lips concealing any response from her once more, letting all the poetry she needed to speak flow through their actions in that small moment.