— it wasn’t necessarily a date but when I was with my most recent ex, there was one night when he picked me up from work and it had just started to rain. We played A LOT of Pokémon Go then and when I got in the car, he gave me an anniversary gift that was my “Poké Pack”. It was filled with a portable charger, an umbrella, candy, and other stuff. When we got back to his apartment, it started raining harder and eventually we started hearing screaming and laughing outside. We went to check on it and turns out the parking lot was flooded with nearly a foot of water and so the two of us along with his roommates ran out in the storm and grabbed their other friends in the other campus apartments and we all splashed each other and danced and what not. Then we all changed clothes and had hot chocolate and watched a movie
27. what is a piece of advice you have for young / baby gays
— don’t Don’t DON’T let someone take advantage of your emotions. You ultimately know what you want and who you like. Sex isn’t everything. Don’t you dare be apart of a gay clique and be very careful if you’re going to be a “club gay”
Andy Goldsworthy - Lay Down as it Started Raining or Snowing Waited Until the Ground Became Wet or Covered Before Getting Up Tewet Tarn, Cumbria, March 1988; Started to rain laid down waited left a dry shadow Haarlemmerhout Holland, August 1984.
can i request a jughead imagine with the prompt, “i think i’m in love with you, and i’m terrified.”
I’m sorry it’s so short, it’s more of a drabble than an imagine!
“C’mon, Y/N, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Jughead said, but you were too busy looking around the diner, looking anywhere but at him. He had taken it too far, almost getting into a fight with Reggie, then just making a joke about it all. “It’s like you don’t care about your well being,” you said, finally looking back at him and seeing his greenish-blue eyes. He shut his laptop screen and lean forward, across the diner table. “Can we go outside and talk?” His voice was surprisingly calm, so you nodded and he packed up his belongings. When outside, Jughead turned, pressing you against the wall of Pop’s diner. “You’re right, I don’t care about myself, because I know that there’s a killer out there and I’m worried about you.” You stared up at him and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. The arm that had caged you against the wall, fell to his side. You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Jug, I’m going to be fine but I need you to look out for yourself too.” He pulled his hand out of yours, rubbing his palms against his face. He turned his back to you and you could see his back heaving. “Jug-” you started, but your friend turned around and you stopped upon seeing the tears in his eyes. “Y/N, you don’t get it,” his voice was quiet when he spoke now, “I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.”
His words left you speechless. All you could do was walk towards him a wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. You felt his arms wrap around you as well, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Despite the fact and you Jughead having been friends for many years, you had never seen such a blatant show of emotion like this. You were used to his dry humor that always made you smile, but sarcasm would have never been able to hide these feelings. You felt his hands at the small of your back, pushing you closer to him. At some point during the hug, it started to rain. Little droplets fell against your hair and Jughead’s hat. You felt his shoulders shake and you pulled back to see if he was crying; but it was a smile that graced his lips instead of a frown. “Why are you laughing?” You asked, smiling at him, but he just slumped his head on his shoulder. “This is just…” he moved his head, looking into your eyes, “I tell you about how I feel and then it started to rain.” You reached up, the back of your knuckles stroking his cheek. His hand reaches up to grab yours, pulling you a little closer. You eyes darted from his eyes to his lips and you blushed when you realized he was doing the same. “Are we really gonna kiss in the rain?” His voice was a whisper, but you smiled at his tone. “I think we are,” you replied with a grin. The tips of your noses brushed as your faces grew closer. You lips met his in one quick movement and it was a flurry of emotions. His hand found your waist and yours landed on the back of his neck. You felt the rain start to fall heavier as he deepened the kiss.
You finally pulled back for air, you left him panting. You studied his face with somewhat swollen lips and you giggled at the expression in his eyes. “That was…” you nodded, grabbing his hand and pulling him under a rain guard near the diner. “Cliche?” You asked, taking his soaking hat off his head and running your fingers through his hair. He gave you a grin before he started to lean down again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.
You stayed in the diner until the rain stopped and then Jughead started to walk you home. The walk was quiet for the most part, it wasn’t until you reached the edge of your driveway when someone spoke. “Y/N, I know that all of that,” Jughead raised his hands, “but if you don’t want to date I unders-” You cut off his rambling by pressing your lips to his once more. His hand instinctively reached for yours, holding it loosely. You backed away with a smile, “I think I love you too, Jughead.” The smile he gave you was breathtaking, but you had to go inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, walking towards your house. His fingers were still tangled with yours, but as you pulled away, he let go on your hand. “Tomorrow.” He whispered to himself as he walked away. He would see you tomorrow.
you were sent to the library a while ago but the purpose of your visit is unknown to you. “i need you to go to the library for me”. it drones on and on in your mind.
you hear the screaming down the hall at least once a day. no one says anything. we dont know what may happen if we do.
every school has a basement, or even a sub-basement. weve never been to it but we know its there for us.
the applause in the cafeteria started from nowhere, and ceased just as quickly as it started. no one knows where it originated.
its gym class. “were running today”. everyone knows that once you start running its impossible to stop.
in every school there are a few empty classrooms. sometimes you can peel back the old paper covering the windows and see whats inside, but i wouldnt recommend it.
theres an outbuilding that used to be used to heat up the school its not supposed to be used anymore, but sometimes you see smoke rising from its old chimney. youre sure of it.
school hours have been shortened due to district budget cuts. no one ever sees the teachers leave in the afternoon. we never see them leave the school.
everything goes smoothly, up until rain starts falling. the students raise their heads one by one to stare out the windows.
sometimes our school runs out of paper. we can no longer print documents or worksheets or office referrals. everything comes to a halt. even when unable to function, we must return to school.
you hear someone yell down the hallway “WHAT TEAM?” the answer is wildcats, apparently. our school mascot is a gryphon. we dont have team sports.
public schools dont have nurses offices. we cant get medicine or disinfectant for the many wounds we acquire throughout the day. we rarely have access to bandaids, yet you always hear someone say “im going to the nurses office”. where are they going?
The first thing Draco notices when he wakes up the next morning is that the rain has started up again, and the sky outside his window is a fierce dark grey. He rubs at his face; Potter has woken up in the same foul mood he was in the night before, which means Draco’s job today is going to be made that much harder.
The second thing he notices is an ugly, irritated looking house elf standing at the foot of his bed. His eyes are narrowed at Draco as he twists an old grimy dishcloth in his hands.
“Master Harry’s guest is finally waking up,” the elf says gruffly. “Kreacher thought Master Harry would be kicking him out by now like the other men, but he is still being here while Master Harry takes his tea.”
Draco sits up and glances at his watch; it’s still early. He’s surprised Potter is awake at this time.
“The guest is not leaving,” Kreacher mutters, his eyes still on Draco. “Perhaps he does not know that Master Harry brings a different guest home every night and then kicks them out in the morning with no intention to see them again. But it’s not Kreacher’s business how Master Harry chooses to treat his guests. Kreacher can’t remember most of them anyway; there are so many men.”
BTS’s reaction to you playing their song on the piano:
A/N: Here you are, sweetie ❤️ I really hope you enjoy it! Hopefully it’s as filled full of feels as you wanted~
Jin: Jin pricks his ears, and listens to the melodious chords fluttering to his ears. You haven’t played the piano in a while. It’s good to finally hear the dusty old instrument in use. He heads towards the sound, before a bout of realisation has him stopping at the door,
where just inside he can see your curved figure leaning over the keys, sweeping the music along with your fingers. He knows this tune. It’s his tune - ‘Awake’.
And without any warning - no cracking or breaking, just out of the blue, like thunder in June - tears well up in his eyes, and shimmer to the brink of spilling
over. Of all the songs you could have picked, you picked the one he needs to hear. He can still
remember the emotions that tumbled through him when he first sang this song: the desperation he felt to keep up with his six brothers, the terror he recoiled from, a fear of falling behind. Yet, here he is, years later, still trembling and afraid, but trying
hard to mask it – reduced to tears behind the living room door. Except… no. Things have changed. Back then, he didn’t have you – you, who keep his chin up, and his eyes fixed firmly on the clouds. You, who believe without
an inkling of a doubt that he can go further, stretch farther, and climb
higher than he ever realised. You, who everyday whisper to him, ‘Kim
Seokjin, how luck am I to have you?’ Really, he should be the one asking you. After all, if it weren’t for you, he’d still be on the ground,
tear-dampened gaze filtering to fickle mist-clouds he could never reach. Now,
here he is, flying – soaring – because of you. Up past blue and into the star
sprinkled black of space.
The tears are falling now, but they feel good – warm and
wet like a spring shower. It’s been a while since he cried - properly, like this. He opens the door, and you turn in your seat to
face him, and when he holds out his arms, you run to him, and burrow into his heat. While you rest your head in the
crook between his shoulder and his neck, he sings the rest of the tune in
low tones. “Maybe I can’t touch the sky, but I’ll stretch my arm.”
Yoongi: It has been a tough day for Min Yoongi. He’s been sat in the
studio all afternoon, all evening, and well into the night, fiddling on his laptop, trying to
get the latest track just right. When he closes his eyes,
he can still see the square of light from his screen, burned in blue onto his
retina. He arrives back at his house, completely drained of energy, only to be
greeted by a gentle wave of music when he opens the door. And despite all the muscles in his face being past their stretching
point, they still manage to push up into a smile when he hears you tinkling away
on the piano, playing a song he produced (of course, nothing else would do for
you), playing something he hasn’t heard in a while - ‘Tomorrow’.
You stop playing when you hear him enter the room,
peeking over your shoulder at his tired face.
“Please continue,” he rasps.
Your brows tip up in concern, sensing how tired he is, but
you return to your music without pressing him with a ‘how was your day?’. In a few steps he’s sitting down on your right-hand
side, and his fingers fitting into the groves of the worn ivory keys, he
unfolds a gentle harmony in the treble cleft.
You continue on, the both of you enraptured in the music,
until Yoongi’s playing fades away, and as you turn to him, wondering why he’s
stopped, his head lolls onto your shoulder. Smiling, you brush a few stray wisps
of hair away from his face. “Tired?”
He nods into your shoulder, eyes closing as you pick up the
tune again, slower and more lullaby-like.
“Rest all you want,” you tell him, “I’m not letting you go
back to work, until I know you’ve fully recovered.” Then, as he slowly slips into sleep, you whisper the lyrics from ‘Tomorrow’ he needs to hear most: “Wherever you are right now, you’re just taking a break. Don’t give up… Don’t get too far away, tomorrow.”
Hoseok: Outside, the wind whisks up a torrent of leaves, clattering in shades
of frozen amber against your window, but inside, cut off from the cold autumn
storm, it glows with warmth, drenched in the heat of love and affection – mainly Hoseok’s love
and affection, directed at you. As you sit at the piano, running through a soft
re-imagining of ‘Autumn Leaves’, he watches in appreciation, head resting in his
hands, breath snatched away at the way your fingers ghost across the keys, eyes half-closed, drowned in the melody.
As the final chords hang in the air, Hoseok rouses himself from the trance you have placed him in and begins clapping in
appreciation – the sole audience member in this private concert. “Wow! Y/N, just… wow! That was… wow….” He tries to search
for a word to aptly describe the feelings you have stirred in him, but nothing
surfaces, so instead, he crosses the distance between you, and expresses himself with a gentle hand on your cheek and a breathy kiss that presses warmth into your lips.
When he pulls away, your fingers reach out, wanting him
back – and, smiling, he obliges, balancing on the edge of the piano stool so he
can be that extra bit closer to you.
With the first pitter-patters of rain starting up outside, Hoseok starts up another kind of storm with you –
flurries of kisses dropping down onto your skin. As the leaves fall, you fall in love.
Namjoon: Sometimes, Namjoon really doesn’t like himself. When it’s
late in the evening, and the light’s fading, he really doesn’t like himself. When he’s wasted away the day, erasing work, rather than progressing, he really doesn’t like himself. When he can’t
force a smile without cracking, he really doesn’t
But, at least he’s coming home to you. And he knows that, despite all
the negativity that’s oozing through him like sewage water, you love him. Even in moments of doubt, like right now, when he arrives home,
faded, and ghostly, and wondering if he’s likeable, he hears you wandering
through chords on the piano, and he knows that you know. Because he recognises the song – ‘Reflection’. It’s your reminder that it’s okay – all of
He leans back against the door as the familiar notes hit him
– spine pressing to the wood and head tilting back till he’s gazing up at the
grey ceiling. There may be no words, but each jump of your fingers across
the black and ivory keys speaks to him. He hears. He understands.
After a few moments, after a few deep breaths,
he feels himself – his real self – float back into his body, and he’s ready to
greet you. He steps forward, into the light of the music room, where you shift
to glance at him out of the corner of your eyes. The music keeps on spinning
out. He smiles at you, and you smile back, and that’s all it takes for Namjoon
to like himself like you love him.
Jimin: “Forever we are young, amidst the scattering rain of flower
petals I run, wandering through this maze.” Jimin can’t help but sing the last
few lines of the familiar song while you rest upon the final chords on the piano.
Turning to him, eyes shining bright, you say, “Your singing still sounds
as beautiful as it did when you first sang this song.”
Jimin heaves out a
sigh. “That was a long time ago, wasn’t it?” His mind flickers back to those
days, an eternity ago (try a few years, but they feel infinite), when you didn’t exist in his life. So many things have
changed since then. He’s changed since then.
Sensing a shift in his mood, you reach out your hands to him, hoping for a hold on his uncertain frame, quivering on the edge of being lost to remembering. In answer to your silent plea, he
steps closer and winds his arms around your shoulders. You ground him back in reality with your head resting on his chest.
“It wasn’t so long ago…” you murmur.
“Sure feels like it though.” Stifling thoughts begin
clinging onto Jimin, realisations of how far on his life has progressed, how
much closer he is to stepping off the cusp of youth… realisations that the
lyrics of the song you played can’t be true. He won’t be young forever, and neither will
you. It terrifies him.
You stretch your neck to gaze up at him. “We’re still young,” you assure him, “And even when we grow
old, and get grey-haired and wrinkly, we’ll stay young – on the inside at
least. All I need is you by my side, and I feel like I could stay vibrant and
strong for the rest of my life.”
How is it that you always know what to say? Jimin swallows down his foul-tasting fears and kisses the
top of your head. “Young forever, you and me.”
Taehyung: As you drift through the dream-enhancing chords, sat over the
piano, Taehyung stands on the other side of the door, enraptured and enwrapped by
your playing. When the final notes peel away into a calm quiet, he opens the door to be greeted by your smile.
“Just One Day?” Taehyung asks, although he doesn’t need an
answer from you – he recognises the melody like he recognises the freckles
on your face.
“Did you like my arrangement of it?”
“Like it?” Taehyung flops down onto the nearby sofa, and
motions for you to join him, “Like it? I adored it.”
“I adore you,” you counter, abandoning the piano stool
to find a comfier spot with Taehyung, perched above him, legs straddling his
waist. Your hair falls down around your shoulders and, as you lean towards
Taehyung, it cuts off the rest of the world, encasing the two of you in your own existence.
Taehyung’s hands reach up to cup your face, and when you close your eyes to his touch, he stretches up to kiss your eyelids. In parting
his lips from your skin, he murmurs, “I never really understood the lyrics of
that song until I met you.”
“What? ‘Just One Day’?”
He nods, bumping his nose against yours in the process. “I
never understood the desperate need to be with someone, even if it was only for one day. But then I saw you, and suddenly it made sense. I got the feeling that
even if I could only be with you for one day, one hour, even one second, that would be enough for me. It’s like my purpose is to be with you.”
You felt the sting of tears as they jumped up behind
your lids, but you refused to let them fall. “I suppose it’s a good thing we
have more than one day then.”
Jungkook: Poised on your doorstep,Jungkook takes a deep breath and steps forward to knock.
The last time he saw you, you had been in floods of tears,
both of you shouting things you didn’t mean. Now he’s outside, wanting to
apologise, to go back to how it used to be. But he’s scared. He’s terrified.
And he can’t bring himself to make a move.
That is until he hears the strains of a piano playing,
wafting through an open window. Those chords are familiar – ‘Love is not over’.
On recognising the song, he slowly breaks down – like a lump of sugar dissolving
in coffee, one second he’s solid and the next he’s disappearing, forgetting
himself and slipping over into tears. He can’t bear to be apart from you any longer, and judging
by your playing, neither can you. Not caring how much of a mess his face is,
puffy and red, striped with tear-tracks, he knocks. And after a few seconds you
answer. Your face is a mirror of his, just as cracked, just as damp.
“I’m sorry…” is all you can say before he pulls you into a
tight hug that squeezes all the air out of you, and he’s murmuring in your ear,
“Me too. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Just like that it’s okay again. With the two
of you, things can never truly be finished – you can never truly be done with each other.
Love will never be over, and so long as you’re breathing, you’ll be together.
Stiles:There’s a party tonight at Lydia’s, you want to come with me?
You stared at the text from your best friend, sighing in defeat as you quickly typed a reply, “No.” You knew what would happen if you went to the party with him, he’d spend the first ten minutes joking and laughing with you, then he’d see Malia at the other side of the room, shuffle nervously on his feet as he glanced from you to her and that’d make you roll yours eyes and tell him to ‘go on over to her’. He’d smile, pat you on the back and wander off for the rest of the night; leaving you by yourself.
That’s what it is like now a days, you left alone whilst he ran around with the werecoyote that rudely interrupted your five year plan. You made a plan when you were thirteen, a plan that would make Stiles Stilinski, your best friend, fall in love with you and it was working; god, it was working great until she entered his life. Maybe it was meant to be, maybe you were only meant to be best friends forever.
Tumblr and coworkers AU (52k, E) : Holy shit. HOOOLLYYY SHIIIIT. Okay
read this now, it’s hot as fuck, and awesome, and also hot as fuck.
(kind of share that)(a lot)
Has the Ocean Lost Its Way
, by @fullonlarrie : Louis and Liam are professional surfers who have been traveling
the world together for years. Now they travel with Liam’s pro-surfer
girlfriend Amelia and their baby Vivian. They’re in Manly Beach, Sydney
to compete in the 2017 Australia Open of Surfing when Louis meets Harry,
a freelance surf photographer working for Surfer Magazine. Louis wonders if his nomadic lifestyle will keep him single
indefinitely or if there’s someone out there who’ll fit in with his
little makeshift family.
Larry surfer AU (28k, E) : Of course I’m gonna read a Surfer
Louis/Photographer Harry fic :D So you should do too. (b!Louis for the
My Saddle’s Waiting, by
: It’s late and Harry is bored. He texts his one night
stand from last week for a quick, no strings attached hookup. As it
turns out, the guy gave Harry the wrong number and it ends up being
Larry smut AU (E, 6k) :…. I mean, they kind of share that … but quite literally. Holy shiiit.
we can meet again somewhere , by LSFOREVER :
or, The morning after his party Harry wakes up naked on his bed, and
there is a Polaroid photo of a stranger right beside him. Harry wants to
know who is this tiny little boy that has soft fringe and a smile from
heaven. He has endless hope.
Larry AU (9k, M) : perfect read if you’re feeling a big sad and you need to be cheered up ;)
★ Kissing in the Rain , by Writcraft : It starts at a party with shitty cocktails, a DJ that’s
definitely not as good as Nick and some ‘that only happens in the
movies’ kissing in the rain.
Tomlinshaw AU (93k, E) : canon fic during Hiatus era minus babygate … and so much great smut !
, by @milehigh-larry :Louis Tomlinson needs a safe place to hide when his night out
ends up on every major entertainment site. His safe place has always
been Harry. Will ten years make a difference?
Larry famous not famous and ex friends to lovers AU (30k, E) : Actor Louis and Veterinary Harry in the Montana, angsty and smutty ! fuck yeah ! (bottom Harry)
Part Two on my lovely Shark monster boyfriend story. Read the first part HERE.
After the storms shutters are finished put on, you wave goodbye to the repairman and go back inside. “He’s gone, you can come out.”
“Is it really supposed to storm that bad?”He huffs as he comes out from the bedroom. He braces his hand above his head on the doorway so he doesn’t knock it coming out. He’s almost too big for your small house. His nine feet tall at the least and wide enough he has to slip sideways through the doors.
“Well, they say storm I say panic,” you huff.
“You seem nervous,” he grabs your shoulder and kneads gently. “Whats wrong?”