the best shirt in the entire world

TheMysteryShack needs more souvenir shirts to sell to suckers!

Here at TheMysteryShack, there’s a lot of tourists looking to part with their money. These simpletons love t-shirts. So we want to make more t-shirts and give them to them. For money, of course! Submit your best Gravity Falls or Steven Universe shirt design for a chance to have it be made into a licensed product and see it sold across the entire web world wide.

Submission Guidelines

1. Attach your design file in .ai (Adobe Illustrator) format or have the .ai file readily available if picked as a winner.
*EDIT: After Checking with the company specifically for shirts, an .ai file is NOT required like with some of their other products. Files accepted include: .ai, .psd, .jpg, .png. Apologies for any added stress or confusion.
2. Attach the sample shirt design used for voting as a jpg file. If you want to be specific, you can choose the specific color you’d want the shirt to be on. You can also further specify certain design elements be certain sizes, i.e. “the design is 6” across the upper chest"
3. No foul language, obsessive violence, gore, etc. These are children’s shows and the companies will have final approval.
4. No Crossovers. Each design picked is submitted to their respective networks.
5. Include your name (or how you wish to be referred to as) when submitting your artwork to receive proper attribution.
6. Artwork should be designed for a surface area of 15" to 19" at 300 DPI. This is considered the printable surface area of a typical t-shirt.

Email to contest@themysteryofgravityfalls.com with your submission!

Rules

1. Submit whatever you want. It can be well placed stock art or something totally original. Keep in mind that Disney/CN will be approving these so try not to submit anything that you know wouldn’t fly on the show. Subversive designs might sneak by them so put on those thinking caps!
2. You must be the artist for any original art submitted or have written permission from the artist to submit. You can submit stock art with added words or phrases.
3. Entries can be submitted until April 30th, 2017. Entries will be divided based on the show it’s from.
4. Winners will be chose in multiple stages TBD. Polls will be used to narrow down potential candidates. There is no limit to the amount of winners.
5. Open to anyone anywhere in the world.

Rewards

1. Several winners will be chosen. Each selected winner of a design chosen to be submitted for licensee approval will receive a monetary reward of $100 USD.
2. Winners with designs accepted by Disney and CN and made into a shirt will also receive a commission for each shirt sold for the first 6 months of availability.
3. Winners with shirts approved and produced will also receive one shirt of their design in an adult unisex size of their choosing.
4. All selected design winners will also receive small gift packages containing merchandise from either Gravity Falls or Steven Universe.

Things to Keep in Mind

1. Treat your design as if it’s on a adult small sized shirt when specifying sizing and placement.
2. Submit a design that works as a shirt. This is important! Taking a poster type of artwork and slapping it on a shirt is lazy, even if some big companies in malls do it.
3. Submitting a design does not guarantee your design will be made into a shirt. Being chosen as a winning design does not guarantee your design will be made into a shirt. Disney and Cartoon Network have final say.

It’s Friday I’m in Love

It was on a Monday that Richie Tozier met Eddie Kaspbrak.

Richie was 5 and Eddie was 6 and Richie knew instantly that Eddie was going to be his best friend.
-

It was on a Tuesday that Richie learned that sometimes boys liked other boys the way that they were supposed to like girls.

Richie was 7 and in the grocery store with his mother. He saw two teenage boys holding hands and he pulled on his mum’s sleeve, and asked her, why those boys were holding hands? And she told him “because they like each other, Richie. More than boys should like each other. Stop looking at them” and then she dragged him away from where the two boys stood laughing to each other.

When Richie saw Eddie at school the next day, he asked him “Hey Eddie, we like each other, right?”

“Of course we do Richie” Eddie said, without looking up from the book he was reading.

Richie looked down at where Eddie’s hand was held in his own, and nodded. Of course they like each other.
-

It was on a Wednesday that Richie realised what the way that he liked Eddie really meant.

He was 11 and while his friends all talked about wanting to kiss girls like Beverly Marsh on the lips and wanting to hold her hand at lunchtime, the only lips that Richie wanted to kiss was Eddie’s. The only hand that had ever felt right in his was Eddie’s.

Richie wondered what this revelation would mean for his and Eddie’s friendship. Whilst Eddie had never spoke of wanting to kiss girls, he had also never spoke of wanting to kiss Richie. And Eddie still looked at Richie the way that he always had. He still felt the way he had always felt about Richie.
-

It was on a Thursday that Richie finally kissed Eddie.

Richie had just turned 13 and every single time he saw Eddie his heart would race and his stomach would erupt in butterflies. When Richie pressed his lips against Eddie’s in a sudden impulsive movement, he thought that for sure it would be the end of their friendship. That Eddie would hate him for it. But when he felt Eddie’s lips move against his, God, he was filled with such an incredible indescribable joy.

He was drowning. He was drowning in happiness, he was drowning in Eddie, and he didn’t want to be saved.
-

It was on a Friday that Richie was in love with Eddie.

They were 14 and it had been coming for a while now. Being around Eddie filled Richie with such a painful happiness, as if every part of him was on fire but in the most beautiful way and he never wanted it to stop. It was as though Richie had been standing at the edge of a cliff, and now, lying on Richie’s bed next to Eddie, Richie jumped. With no hesitations or second thoughts, he let himself fall down, and down and he was gone.

The thing is though, Eddie hadn’t jumped with him.
-

It was on a Saturday that Richie felt heartbreak for the first time in his life.

He was 17 and his knuckles were covered in his best friend’s blood. Richie had felt his entire world crumble around him, felt his reality slipping, when he walked into Eddie’s bedroom to see him sat on Bill Denbrough’s lap. An incriminating purple bruise was half visible under the collar of Bill’s shirt and Eddie’s traitorous fingers were tangled in Bill’s hair.

Ironically, it had been Bill who had apologised to Richie, blood dripping from his nose, telling him that he was sorry, that they hadn’t meant for it to happen, that it didn’t mean anything. Bill’s words barely reached Richie though, because all he could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears, and he couldn’t see Bill from where he stood in front of Richie. All he could see was Eddie. Sat on his bed, not saying a word. His bottom lip between his teeth, and his hands clasped tightly in his lap, but no trace of sorrow or regret on his face.

Eddie’s eyes held contact with his. Richie’s vision was blurred with the tears that he didn’t realise had been falling.

“I hate you” Richie lied. But still, Eddie said nothing.
-

It was on a Sunday that Richie Tozier left Derry.

He was 18 and he had no intention of ever going back.

5 Years

- You and Harry are poor and Harry hasn’t seen Anne in years. He misses her so much that you suprise him with plane tickets to visit her.

A/N: This is quite short, but it’s such fluff I am in love.

Masterlist linked in bio.


“This is shit! All of this is shit!”

Harry’s hands violently shoved all his crumbled pieces of paper and music journals off of the kitchen table before pounding the sides of both of his fists against the wood, refusing to contain all the frustration that had only seemed to increase inside of him any longer.

He had been trying to write new music for the past three weeks. After visiting the local record label for what felt like the hundredth time since he’s moved from home, they still refused to sign him until he figured out a way to produce music that “didn’t sound like everything else.” He’s tried everything—from writing about his love life to writing about all the angry shit scrambled inside his head—yet nothing seemed to gain their interest.

At that point, Harry had run out of ideas. There was absolutely nothing else he could think of writing about that he hasn’t already, and it was as if every possibility of making music in his future had suddenly turned into a false hope.

It was all he had, though—writing and producing music was the only thing he had going for him and the only chance he had to make money. But it was so much harder than he ever thought possible, for he had been trying for years to gain recognition for his creations, yet nothing came to his avail.

He was on the brink of giving up on everything at that moment—everything.

“Fucking shit!”

Y/n ran from their shared bedroom into the kitchen after hearing the chaos Harry had riled up. By the time she reached the dining table—which was normally used both as a place for them to eat and Harry’s office—he was an absolute wreck. Between the mess upon the floor and the cries that seemed to obstruct the silence that had once been, she had absolutely no idea what to do.

“Harry, wh—what?”

“I can’t—I can’t live like this anymore!” He sobbed, his head in his hands as his lungs began to fail him through his words.

He couldn’t continue living through their financial crisis; between his dead-end attempts to make a career out of his music and Y/n’s minimum wage salaries, it was nearly impossible for them to live a life they both deserved. Their memories were trapped inside an apartment that could barely fit the two of them, all their passionate nights were shared on a mattress with no bed frame, and their life together remained stagnant for far too long.

Harry loved her more than he’s ever loved anything before, and the thought was enough to terrify him.

She deserved so much better than him—she deserved a man that could provide her with all her needs and wants. She deserved every bit of the earth and Harry could barely offer her a fraction of it. He could only provide her with his love and the scraps he made from his failures.

She deserved so much more than him.

“Oh, baby.” She whispered.

She kneeled down to where he was sitting, pressing her forehead to his as she played with the hairs that raided the nape of his neck. She was well aware of how hard their living situation was—especially for him.

He worked hard enough for the both of them. He worked relentlessly, often times skipping meals or refusing to have a proper night’s sleep until he had something done—whether it was a new song idea or even a newly written verse. Stress took over his every move and Y/n knew he wasn’t living a healthy lifestyle.

He was losing himself slowly, and it pained Y/n beyond words to see him live the way he was. She wished she could offer him more help than she was already giving him, but she was busy, too, and she never felt more upset with herself.

“I need my mum.”

The words he’d spoken an innumerable amount of times fell from his lips without much thought.

He hadn’t seen her since he decided to move away with Y/n, which was four years ago at the time. He had sacrificed his entire life to start a new one with Y/n. He figured that moving away with her to a different city would be his opportunity to start fresh on his music career and start making enough money for him, Y/n, and his family.

He had sketched plans upon backup plans to get his music going. He searched through all the different venues, music companies, music managements—everything he could think of—and spent nearly every hour practicing and writing.

He never expected that what he had to offer wasn’t good enough.

To those he showed his music to, there was a list of improvements they felt he had to make. They claimed that his music was either too mainstream or too different, and there was absolutely no in between. He found himself in a rut with his creations and it was far too late to move back in with his family since he nor Y/n were making enough money to pay their rents, bills, and a plane ticket back home.

Anne wasn’t able to afford visiting him either, though, so there was absolutely nothing the either of them could do besides wait until Harry’s music career started to take off—if it ever did.

He missed Anne more than anything. Although he was in love with spending every day with Y/n and getting to experience all of his miserable life with her, he missed the feeling of his mum being around him all the time. He missed absolutely everything about her, especially when he had his emotional breakdowns.

She was his rock and his provider his entire life, and he relied on her for everything until he decided to move away. She kept him sane through all his hectic times and was there for him when nobody else was.

Anne wasn’t only his mum, but she was his best friend, and continuing to live without knowing when he’d be able to see her again was Harry’s own personal hell.

“I know, darling.” Y/n whispered as she let his tears soak her shirt and his body shake in her arms.

He kissed her where her heart was as he squeezed her more into him. His entire world was in his arms and he’s never needed the weight of it more.

“Don’t ever think I regret my life with you, love, please don’t. But my mum, Y/n, my mum—I miss her so much. Phone calls don’t mean shit to me because I’m not w—with her.”

She only nodded, letting him vent to her without any interruption. It brought her comfort whenever Harry was having a breakdown, as sick as it sounded—it just brought her peace knowing that he was letting out all of the emotions he kept in for her sake. He was human, after all, and he deserved to have his moments.

“I need her, Y/n. I need her to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay. I need her to kiss me and tell me how proud she is of me even though I’ve done nothing but fail those around me—like I fail you—and just hold me like she did when I was a kid.”

She shook her head instantly, slowly pushing his body away from hers in order to her eyes to meet his. They were red and soaked with tears, but they were beautiful and was always what got her weak in the knees.

The pads of her thumbs wiped away the tears that fell onto his cheeks, making sure to kiss him a couple of time while doing so.

“You never fail me, Harry. You give me a new reason to fall in love with you every single day and I thank God for you every time I look at you. Your love never fails me, nothing you do fails me. So never think that again, you hear me?”

And she really meant it more than ever, especially in that moment of Harry’s vulnerability. Her heart always hurt knowing that he wasn’t aware of how much she actually did give her, even if it wasn’t materialistic. Nobody provided her with as much love and safety as he had, and it was something she’d never be able to get enough of.

He got her through all her troubled times and all her insecure moments. She needed him and wanted him more than anything money could buy, and she’d spend the rest of her dying days attempting to make him believe it.

“You’ll see your mum soon, okay? If I can promise you one thing, it’s that you’ll see her soon.“

She kissed his cheeks again before they sat in silence together, all wrapped up in each other’s arms as they waited for Harry to finally calm down. They hadn’t found a lot of time within the past three weeks to spend loads of time together, so even just the half hour of holding one another was enough to mend him quite quickly.

“Can you promise me something else?” He breaks the silence, his voice slightly hoarse from the screaming that took place earlier.

She nodded.

“Can you promise me that whenever I see my mom again, that you’ll be there? I want you to meet her so properly and make her see why I want to marry you someday. I really want her blessing.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, grazing her lips softly against his forehead before muttering a small “I promise.”


That was a year ago.  

Ever since that night, Y/n made it her first priority to find a way for Anne and Harry to reunite. She never wanted to see that side of Harry again, and she’s been through the God awful pain that came from missing a parent. Y/n had lost both of her parents in a car accident, and she never wanted Harry to go through what she had to for the following years.

So, she started working double shifts at her job—gathering and saving as much money as she possibly could for a couple of months straight. Airfare was quite expensive, especially since she planned on buying two round-trip tickets and intended on being able to pay the rent and bills for that month and somehow buy food and necessities during the trip.

She intended on leaving it a surprise for Harry, as well, and was able to make up plenty of excuses as to why she wasn’t able to be at home as much. He was quite upset, but she found it was quite easy considering Harry was keeping busy with his music throughout that time as well.

To say she was exhausted was an understatement. She had never worked so hard in her life and never thought she had it in her to make as much money as she did. It made the living situation slightly easier during the time. She knew every lost hour of sleep and every extra second spent working would all be worth it in the end.

And it was all worth it, especially now.

The confirmation for her order is right in front of her; two round trip tickets to Holmes Chapel. It’s a sight she’s been desperate to see for a year now, and she lets out a sob as she reads the words over and over again. It’s real, it’s happening, Harry’s ticket to happiness is right in front of her and she has never felt so accomplished in her life.

As she prints out the tickets from her nearly broken down printer—that took her almost two hours to fix—she contemplates whether to wait a week for their sixth year anniversary or just go to him now and gift it to him.

But as she stares at the plane tickets in her hands, she just can’t keep it a secret any longer.

Y/n’s holding everything Harry’s needed right in between her fingertips. Everything that Harry has worked so hard for is right here, inked on printer paper right in front of her and there’s just absolutely no way in hell she can keep this information from him—he’s waited long enough.

She eagerly makes her way to their bedroom, a slight squeal leaving her lips as she makes her way to the doorway of their room. She sees Harry in the bathroom, dressed only in a pair of black boxers as he shaves the stubble under his chin.

He smiles softly upon her entrance, but quickly goes back to shaving the extra bits of his facial hair. She bites her lip at his nearly fully exposed body, but quickly regains her composure as she remembers exactly what she’s here to do.

“Sweetums?”

Harry pats the excess hair from his razor as he looks up.

“Hm?” He hums, his eyes drifting away from his reflection in the bathroom mirror over to where she stands beside their bed.

She has tears in her eyes, but they’re much different from those Harry has seen before. Normally, along with her tears comes a frown on her face and red-tinted cheeks—only the smallest examples of how much her features drown in sorrow whenever she’s upset. But as he stares at her in the way she looks now, there isn’t a trace of sadness within her. Instead, her lips are up in a slight grin and the eyes that are filled with tears are staring at him in admiration. She’s glowing, too, and he swears he wants to look at her in this way for the rest of his life.

“What’s that, love?”

He nods his head slightly, referring to the two pieces of paper that are clenched between her fingers.

She takes a step closer to him as her eyes gleam at the man she’d do anything for. She wishes nothing to be as close to him as possible in this moment, but also wants to be far enough so that she can fully see the product of a man who’ll finally be reuniting with his mother.

“I got you tickets to see your mum, Harry.”

As soon as the words leave her lips, Harry nearly chokes. He drops everything on the floor—his shaver and his comb hitting against the counter and nearly breaking to pieces around his feet. His hands grip along the edge of the sink, face paling and eyes widening at her through the bathroom mirror.

He almost thinks he misunderstood her somewhere—that maybe what she actually said got scrambled in his head to somehow make him hear what he could only dream of hearing. But her face reassures him that he did, in fact, hear her currently and that he just couldn’t believe it.

Y/n’s tears fall down her cheeks as she giggles, observing how he still hasn’t moved a single muscle and the color in his face still hasn’t returned.

“You’ll be at home for a month and you’ll be leaving in two weeks.”

She takes another step closer to him, her smile never fading as he finally lets out a choked sob. Tears are already forming in his eyes and his hands hold tighter against the sink, but words seemed to be trapped in his throat and all that his brain can process is the pounding of his chest and the air that has yet to be knocked out from his lungs.

“I know that when we talked, you said that if you ever had the chance to see your mum again that you’d want me to come with you. I figured that that would be unfair to you, since you have spent so much time with me and haven’t been able to see her in so long. I decided to compromise and—and I’m only visiting for the first week but I figured it’d be enough time to—Harry?”

Her eyes narrow i concern as she watches him nearly fall backwards from his prior position, nearly tripping over his own feet as he finally turns around to look at her properly. Neither of them say anything as Harry stumbles towards her frame—eyes still bewildered and face still pale. He nearly trips over the sheets on the floor, but he quickly regains his balance before his hands find their way upon her cheeks.

He wants to say everything he’s thinking—he wants to tell her how thankful he is and how much he loves her. He wants to express every ounce of gratitude and give her everything she’s ever deserved in this moment. Hell, he wants to get on his fucking knees and worship all the blessings she’s ever given him and love on her until she can barely speak anymore. But all that falters nearly seconds after he reaches her.

“Harry—“

He sobs—complete soul shaking sobs. Everything he’s feeling completely overwhelms him to the point where he ends up on his knees. His body collapses and his lungs are constricted but he has never felt so good in his life.

Y/n falls with him, cradling him again her chest as she presses chaste kisses along his forehead. Her hands rub up and down his back in an attempt to calm him from his cries, but he doesn’t back down. He’s hasn’t felt this amount of happiness in so long that he feels there’s nothing else his body can do.

He reaches his hands up to her face again, admiring her from what he can see between all the tears in his eyes and the squinting of his lids. He presses his lips to hers, but the kiss doesn’t last long before he’s sobbing again—bringing her face down to the dip of his shoulder while he holds her there.

She giggles, shaking her head softly.

“Didn’t I promise you, love?”

i don’t understand how lesbianism is so highly sexualized i honestly don’t because you can ask ANY woman who’s ever been in a lesbian relationship that it’s rarely ever all sexual. the best parts of your relationship might be the sex, sure, but it’s also the slow goodbye kisses when you don’t want her to leave, it’s sitting by your favorite frozen yogurt stand wearing her shirt, it’s spending hours together and only feeling like minutes have passed. being a queer woman and getting to fall for another woman is a beautiful, severely underrated feeling that can knock the breath out of you and make you feel like you can take on the entire world at the same time. our love is not a fucking porn category.

BTS Gif Game Prologue
Rules:
  • If you don’t like who you get, too bad. Lol, jk, if you wanna redo, go for it. (But that’s like cheating, and no one likes cheaters.)
  • If you get the same person twice, redo the last one.
  • Enjoy.

Your Brother - You and your brother had become a lot closer over the past year. He always took care of you, even before your parents’ divorce. He had a shit childhood, and he didn’t want you to be brought up like him, so he took it upon himself to take care of you, since your dad was gone and your mom worked most of the day. She wasn’t a bad mother by any means, she was very passionate about you two, she just rarely had the time to show it, but she didn’t have to, because he always would.

Your Brother’s Best Friend - Because your brother was always taking care of you, he never showed his weak side. This is where he came in. Whenever your brother needed him, he was there. The same week the divorce happened, he walked across town at 2:47 AM with a backpack full of snacks because your brother sent him a text asking if he could talk. Now, he had a car, and was always more than willing to drop everything for the two of you. His parents were practically your second family, and he considered the two of you siblings.

Your Brother’s Asshole Friend - Another a close friend of your brother, he was less willing to drop everything, but that wasn’t what bothered you. What bothered you, was the way he acted around you. He didn’t necessarily “bully” you, but he was an asshole- No, he was the whole ass. He’d get drinks for everyone but you, and would ignore you most of the time you spoke, but when someone messed with you, he was on them like white on rice.

Yin and Yang - Trouble comes in pairs, and these two were no exception. “Brothers from another mother”, as they put it. They were inseparable, but they were complete opposites, balancing each other out. One would always be getting them into trouble, and the other would always be getting them out of it. “Yin” was a messy trouble maker with bad grades and the hottest clothes, “Yang” was an A+ book worm who wore thick framed glasses to school and always had his shirt tucked in. The one thing they did have in common? They were your best friends in the entire world. (Choose Two, First One is Yin, Second is Yang)

Your Flirty Friend - Pretty self explanatory, this boy is constantly making moves on you. You have been with the same group of friends for so long that his actions are seen more as general affection for you than actual flirting, but flirty all the same. The two of you do a lot of skin ship together, from hugs and putting your arms around each other’s shoulders, to laying your head on his lap while playing video games or holding his hand just because it feels nice.

Your Stalker Friend - Most people would find his… Talents, to be creepy, but you were fascinated. He was practically a real life Izaya Orihara. He had the upper hand on EVERYBODY. There wasn’t a single person in the school he didn’t have dirt on, and boy did he use that to his advantage. He was incredibly brilliant; his father was a lawyer and his mother was a the owner of several corporations overseas, and they raised him to be a chip off the old block. When he wouldn’t persuade someone, he would confuse them with his vocabulary and philosophy, including you.

Promise - Namjoon

Warnings: mentions of cheating, implications of sex

Request: “Hi~ if it’s no trouble, could I request a Drabble? numbers 74,142 and 175 with namjoon please! you can choose whether it’s fluff or angst :) I also wanted to say I love your writing so much! Keep it up”

74. “Your eyes are red… were you crying?”
142. “I figured you shouldn’t be alone.”
175. “I can see it on your face.”

Word Count: 1156

Genre: Fluff

•·.··.·• •·.··.·•

You were broken. After walking in on your boyfriend - now ex - practically devouring your best friend, Irene, who you thought you could have trusted, you came to the conclusion that every relationship you would have, romantic or platonic, would simply end in misery and betrayal. It was almost as if all of your past boyfriends just wanted you for your body. You didn’t know if you could trust anyone anymore. You began to think that your closest friends would eventually betray you, even though you knew deep down inside that they would stay by you.

And of course, you knew Kim Namjoon would always be with you.

Limbs sprawled and dried tears, you lay on your bed in trepidation of what your future was to be. You couldn’t help but think that all hope for you was lost, and that you would never love anybody again. The thought of seeing Jumin pinning Irene to the wall, lips connected and faces flushed - you almost felt sick to your stomach.

That image of Jumin and Irene only made the pain in your chest grow, and urged you to let out the tears you’ve been holding back for sleepless nights. You held your knees to your chest and sobbed into the sheets beneath you, not caring if the entire world heard you at that moment. You had the right to be upset, especially after seeing Jumin grinding his hips against your friend, his left hand riding up her shirt while his right hand slid down beneath-

Your thoughts were cut off by the sound of your cell phone blaring beside your ear, the familiar ringtone letting you know that your best friend, Namjoon, was trying to reach you, but you didn’t want to talk to him. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. He didn’t even know about what you were going through, but all he knew is that you weren’t showing up to school, and that meant something definitely wasn’t right with you, since you had never missed a day of school - until now.

The constant ringing of your phone drove on for at least half an hour, bringing you to the point where you angrily grabbed your phone and shut it off, tossing it to the other side of your bedroom, sighing in relief of the silence. Unfortunately, you forgot about how persistent Namjoon was, so when you heard someone banging on your front door, you groaned and ignored them, hoping that they would leave soon. You knew it was Namjoon, but that pushed you ever further to ignore him.

“Y/N! I know you’re in there!” You heard him yell, the pounding on the door growing louder by the second. Suddenly, you heard your front door slam shut, and that’s when you remembered that you had given Namjoon a key to your house only a few weeks ago. He was already halfway down the hall when you jolted up and ran to your door, attempting to lock it, but he was too quick and opened the door before your hand could even touch the doorknob.

“Go away,” You said before trying to push him out, but he quickly grabbed your wrists and embraced you, moving his hands to your head and pulling you closer to his body.

“I was so worried,” He mumbled into your hair.

“Joonie, please, just go.”

He slightly pulled away in confusion at your words, his hands softly cupping your cheeks and his forehead pressed against yours.

“Your eyes are red… were you crying?” He asked, concern written all over his face. You couldn’t stand to see his pained expression, so you slowly nodded then looked down.

“J-Jumin-” You managed to gasp out, but you immediately choked on your own tears as Namjoon pulled you closer, hugging you tighter than he had ever before. You felt your knees buckle, and Namjoon slowly fell to the ground with you, the overwhelming silence taking over the sullen mood surrounding you. “Why did you come, Namjoon?”

“I figured you shouldn’t be alone,” He whispered, running his fingers through your hair as you quietly sobbed into his shirt. “Eunhee told me about him and Irene. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You don’t deserve this. You don’t.”

Minutes passed as you lay in his arms, but you managed to gather yourself and look up at Namjoon, who mumbled to himself as he wiped away your tears with his thumbs. You stayed like this for a while, your cheeks held by his soft hands, gazes averted as silence fell over the room.

“Y/N…” Namjoon spoke, slightly lifting your head to allow your eyes to meet with his.

“You love me, don’t you?” You said abruptly, causing Namjoon’s mouth to stay agape as he stared at you, wondering if you had really just asked him such a thing.

“I-I… well I-I wouldn’t say-” He began to stutter, but you cut him off by leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. He froze in shock, but slowly melted into the kiss, bringing his arms to hook around the back of your neck. You disconnected your lips with his, yet still stayed in close proximity to his reddened face.

“I can see it on your face. You love me.”

Namjoon sighed and shifted his gaze down to the carpet, deciding to spill his secrets to you.

“I do. I love you, Y/N.” You almost flinched at his words, but you knew ultimately that he wasn’t like your previous boyfriends. Namjoon was kind. He was understanding. He was gentle. He knew you better than your own family. He was your family. He had always stuck with you through the rough times. He had cared about you, and he would always care about you. You trusted him with your life, and now you were just realizing that the answer was in front of you all along? After so many years of scattered thoughts and conflicted emotions, you finally knew he was the one.

“Namjoon, can you teach me how to love again?” You asked, almost desperate for a positive answer from him. Surprisingly, instead of an answer, he kissed you softly, cupping your cheeks as you simply melted at his touch. He pulled away with a gentle smile on his face, showcasing his dimples, one of your many favorite features of him.

“As long as you promise to stay by me,” He said, and you quickly nodded before quickly pecking his lips.

“I promise.”

•·.··.·• •·.··.·•

lmao this was so shit I’m so sorry

Running Out Of Time (A Tom Holland imagine)

Word count: 1344

Summary: What starts as a regular day on set turns into a nightmare after one phone call.

Warnings: Angst, much tears.

Taglist: @peterwithextrapickles, @hollandaised, @spider-hlland

A/N: this is a product of team effort, so huge thanks to Abs @steelfeather, i love you)


It was a perfectly normal day. A good day, even. Tom woke up, had breakfast, popped in for hair and makeup, and was easily ready for work by the time shooting started. The weather was great, the mood on set was positive and laid back, and Harrison was by his side as usual, telling jokes and keeping him occupied between takes.

There was one other thing to look forward to - his brother was coming to visit, his plane scheduled to land in just a couple of hours. It was always nice to spend time with Harry, especially when your schedule was as busy as Tom’s.

The day was passing a little bit too slowly for his taste, but there was plenty of work to be done. One bit proved to be particularly difficult; no matter how he played it, the director kept on asking him to try something different. By the time they understood each other fully, Tom had run the scene at least a dozen times, and was more than ready to be through with it.

As he was getting ready for what he hoped would be the final attempt, Tom saw Harrison walking away from set, talking on the phone to someone, visibly upset. There was a brief uneasy feeling in the back of his head, but he couldn’t afford any distractions and struggled to focus on the scene before the cameras started rolling.

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anonymous asked:

After that fabulous proposal fic. My soul is needing a weddin ficlet. I love your writing

Dear nonny, thank you so much! I’ve never actually done them getting married before, but this was a joy to write.


John’s tie looks perfect, to begin with. It’s unfair. He never seems to think about his clothes, and yet every day of his life his unremarkable jeans fit his lovely arse as though they were made for it, his shoes are precisely buffed, his hair is faultless. He’s mastered the art of exalting the ordinary. He flusters me. I just saw him five minutes ago, in the front room, buttoning up his best jacket, which makes his shoulders look magnificent. He winked at me, and I blushed.

He’s waiting for me, and here I am in front of the bathroom mirror, again, leaning on the sink the better to minutely examine my (absurd, infuriating) tie. It looks fine. It should be fine, but as soon as I step away it feels a little too loose. I think that it’s starting to inch to one side, and soon it will hang obviously crooked. So I come back, and tighten it, and then I step away and realize that now it’s  pressing on my throat, and I can’t breathe and I’m not going to be able to say my few words with the dignity and clarity they deserve. So I come back and I loosen it again, but then it hangs askew; and really I might as well undo it and begin again, over, under and through–

“Sherlock,” through the door. A gentle knock. Still courteous, at the strangest moments. This is our bathroom; he could just walk in. “All right?”

“Of course,” I say. It comes out cold, and there was a time when he’d have silently retreated, but now I hear a little laugh.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes, fine.” I’ve broken out in a sweat; I can feel the dampness building along my hairline and mucking up the armpits of my best shirt. I hate the tiny room, the buzzing light above the sink, myself, the entire worthless tie-wearing world. He opens the door. Oh, God, he looks exactly right, his smile wry, his eyes kind. I’m a mess. I look at him, despairing, wanting two things only: to be kissed, and to be safe in bed with him, away from the necessity of ties.

“What’s wrong?” he says. “The cab’s below. You’re not scared, are you?”

“No.” I got through the worst of that two nights ago, pacing around the sitting room with my instrument mostly held silent in my hand, trying to understand how I ever imagined I could make him happy for another half-century or so. How I could deserve that, or bear it. I never expected to live this long. Neither did he–I know.

“Then what’s the matter? Mrs. Hudson’s got our boutonnieres out of the fridge and her best hat on and she’s just about crying with excitement. I don’t think she’ll keep long.”

“It’s–you’re–I love you, and I can’t, John, I can’t get it right!” I’m losing control of my voice. He stays by the door, thankfully, and doesn’t try to get hold of me, or settle me down; only watches with a little line between his brows.

“Can’t get what right? The vows? Don’t worry, I wrote them down.”

“Oh–no.” I have an excellent memory. I’m not worried about the vows. “John–my tie. It’s rendered me completely useless.” One wears ties to a wedding, I do know that. I haven’t worn one since I was twelve years old and too strong to be forced. But for John–for this–

“Oh, for God’s sake!“ Revelation dawns over John. “Take the tie off, Sherlock. I didn’t think–I should have realized. It doesn’t matter.”

“We won’t match.”

“We’ll look like us.” He’s stepped forward, into my space; I can smell his cologne, touch my nose to his hair, and his warm, steady hands are pulling me free of the tie, opening my collar, cupping my jaw. He kisses me. He laughs into the kiss, and pulls away to lift my hair off my forehead and blow away the heat. He blows into my collar, too, and kisses my neck, and says, “You didn’t have to work yourself into a sweat for me. I like you comfortable.”

“I’m never comfortable,” I say, before I think, but that only makes him laugh again.

“You will be later,” he says, “if I have anything to do with it. Come on downstairs, and let’s get married.”

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years & years (2) - m.dl.c x reader // j.a x reader

Summary: junior year sets in motion a chain of events that changes the lives of liberty high students, forever.
Warnings: mentions of a car crash, mentions of suicide, attempted suicide, blood, scars.
A/N: so this turned out longer than i intended so that’s why i ended it where i did. should i continue it or leave it as it is? anyway, this isn’t edited or anything, so i hope it’s okay!

**
you’re sixteen, and the first party of your junior year is the catalyst for the end of the world as you knew it. a beer run goes wrong when a car doesn’t stop where it’s supposed to, ramming straight into the car you’re travelling in with jeff. around your feet are glass bottles that shatter upon impact, cutting through your cheap canvas runners and digging in to your skin. you don’t feel it, though, because the jolt of the car sends you forward sharply, your forehead meeting the dashboard with a thunk. it knocks you out, for a few minutes, and when you come around, there’s a far worse pain waiting in the seat beside you.

a week in hospital helps the cuts on your ankles and feet scab over and heal, but no amount of time could even begin to touch the edges of the hole in your chest, in the wake of jeff’s death. the paramedics called it immediately upon arriving at the scene, your screams echoing down the street filled with passersby and flashing lights. clay had found the wreck, and you can’t erase the wretched cries he’d let out, begging jeff to hold on. the funeral is, of course, a large affair - it seems almost the entire school turns out to bid farewell to the best baseball player the town had the honour of having. in your black jeans, black shirt, black jacket, all you can focus on is the warmth of mrs. atkin’s hand in yours, gripping it tight. the students stare, pity in their gaze, unsure words of condolences whispered hurriedly as they pass you by. it only makes you feel worse.

back in school, however, another shocking blow lands only days after returning to liberty high’s hallways - hannah baker takes her own life, and leaves behind a world of pain and mystery. as if you couldn’t be more unbalanced, it feels as though the entire world has spun off it’s axis, disturbing the gravity, making it impossible to ground yourself. unlike jeff’s funeral, hannah’s is private, family only. clay is a hollow shell of the boy you grew up knowing, having lost a best friend and his crush in less than a month. when a group of jocks pass you by, clad in varsity jackets exactly like the one hanging in your wardrobe at home, the pressure hits breaking point, and you find yourself sobbing viciously beneath the bleachers outside - with no memory of how you got there. after what could be hours or simply minutes, a strong arm pulls you into a solid, warm chest, cradling you while the sobs wrack your entire body. montgomery de la cruz, a boy you haven’t spoken to in over a year, says nothing, does nothing, except hold you while you cry. for the first time since that awful night, you don’t feel so alone anymore.

**

after that day under the bleachers, montgomery is sure to check in with you a few times a day. the conversation never stretches beyond quick greetings, but you know that if you need someone, he’ll be there - and that’s what you need. unbeknownst to the both of you, a series of tapes is circulating a group of people you both know, left by hannah before her death. everyone begins to act strange; clay is distant and even more lost than usual, sheri can’t seem to meet your eyes anymore, alex wanders around the hallway like a dark cloud, ominous, foreboding. he purposefully picks fights with montgomery - you don’t know the reason why, nor does montgomery, but alex does. when you try to speak the bleach blond boy, he seems to be just out of your reach, like everything else, these days. even tony, your lifelong best friend is never around. jessica davis takes on the part of hedonist, drinking through school and skipping out on cheer practice. she makes scenes in public with justin and then storms off - and justin is just as far away as everybody else. like the earlier analogy of the world spinning off it’s axis, it screws with the entire system. you’re no longer in each others orbits, all communications systems failing.

the third blow hits you before that same month is up. a text message goes unseen for almost half an hour, and it’s long enough for it to be too late. the message has you sprinting barefoot across town, wearing only pyjama shorts and a tank top, headed for alex standall’s house. the blood reminds you of jeff’s body in the car, and you can barely hold back the screaming long enough to call an ambulance. it’s a long night, sitting in silence side by side with alex’s father. the man’s face is expressionless, but his eyes shine with tears he refuses to let fall. at some point, when the waiting and agonising fear becomes too much, you let your hand land on his. after a few seconds, he responds with a grateful squeeze, blinking hard. your throat is burning from the screaming, raw and painful, your bare feet like blocks of ice on the linoleum floor. the night passes.

**

it’s a relief to get to school on monday and realise that news of alex’s … indiscretion hasn’t yet made the rounds, but it’s not too long before it reaches the hallways. clay stops you before class to ask if you’re okay.

‘are you?’

his expression tells you all that needs saying, and you’re sure your own does, too. you let him talk to you into meeting at monet’s after school. home is too suffocating - with jeff, and hannah baker, and now alex, your parents have taken to hovering, constantly, around you. it’s sweet, and you appreciate the concern, but it doesn’t help the feeling that you don’t know how to breathe anymore. sitting around a back table with tony and clay is the most normal thing you’ve done in weeks. clay is as nervous and awkward as always, tony providing a steady contrast, confident and sure, but there’s a difference to the two of them you can’t quite explain. skye brings your drinks down; coffee for you and clay, hot chocolate for tony.

‘is it true about alex standall?’ the tattooed barista wants to know. clay spares you a glance, before nodding. skye scoffs and rolls her lined eyes. 'one girl offs herself and the rest follow like dominoes,’ she says, voice dripping with disgust. 'still, we see who the real attention seekers are, right?’

neither clay nor tony answer her; looking at each other, a silent conversation. you, however, look up at the blonde, and, rather quietly, ask her,

'can you shut the fuck up?’

she blinks. 'what? you weren’t even friends with hannah.’ 'no. but i am friends with alex. don’t be so ignorant.’

her eyes flash with indignation. 'i’m being honest, not ignorant.’
'no, you’re being disrespectful.’ underneath the table, your fists clench. 'look, i know that you’re hurting over jeff, so i-’

your head snaps up. you can barely hear yourself talking over the blood rushing through your ears. 'what did you just say?’

clay decides to step in. 'skye, maybe you should just drop it,’ his voice is low. the barista rolls her eyes again, and if she does it one more time-
'i’ll be at the counter if you need anything.’ she leaves. tony leans over to speak to you, but his words fall flat and unheard. standing up abruptly, you reach into your backpack for your wallet.

'c'mon, don’t go,’ clay pleads, tony noting the shake in your hands as you fumble for a few dollar bills. 'i can pay,’ the boy offers, concerned. you shake your head, dropping the notes on the counter. 'i’ll see you in school tomorrow,’ you mutter, gripping your bag in both hands and rushing out of café as fast as you could. speed-walking down the street, you breathe in and out slow, trying to calm your pounding heart, and the rage like a fire burning through your veins. skye’s words echo in your head - attention-seekers, attention-seekers - blinded by your emotion, you collide with a hard body, the two of you snapping 'watch it!’ in unison.

it’s montgomery, and when he sees it’s you, the tense set of his broad shoulders relax. 'oh, hey. are you okay?’ as his eyes search your face, you find yourself breaking. stepping closer to him, in an effort to keep your voice at a normal volume, you admit, 'i get it now. i get you now. i never understood… you’ve been so angry, for so long, and i never got it. but… but i get it now. i’m so mad, monty. i’m so mad, all the time, and i - i don’t want to - i can’t - i don’t know what to do.’

his entire face softens, his features kinder than you’ve ever seen them. after taking a moment to register your words, he swallows, and then reaches for your elbow.

'come with me.’

'where?’

as he begins to urge you forward, all he says is, 'just come with me.’ so you do. you follow where he leads, his hand an anchor to reality. as you walk with him to god-knows-where, you realise there’s only one thing you’re certain of.

montgomery de la cruz could walk you off the edge of the earth, and you’d follow, without hesitation.

For you, the doubters of Lionel Messi

Arsene Wenger (Coach, Arsenal) - “Who is the Best Player in the World? Leo Messi. Who is the Best Player Ever? Leo Messi!”

Diego Maradona (Ex Argentina) – “I have seen the player who will inherit my place in Argentine football and his name is Messi. Messi is a genius and he can become an even better player.”

Wayne Rooney (Manchester United) – “Messi is a Joke, for me the Best Ever!”

Pelé (Ex Brazil) - “At the moment, Messi is the Best!”

Ferrer (ex-Barcelona, Chelsea): “I played with Romario, Rivaldo, Ronaldo, Laudrup and Stoichkov but Messi is the best I’ve seen”

Eidur Gudjohnsen (ex-Chelsea, Barcelona) – “Messi’s control is the best I have ever seen, it is truly breathtaking.”

Krankl (ex-Barcelona) - “Messi is the world’s number 1. Cruyff was my youth idol, him and Messi are the best players I saw in my life.”

Rafael van der Vaart (Ex Tottenham) - “Best football player I played against? I think Messi. He killed us.”

Ivan Helguera (ex-Real Madrid) - “For me, Messi is the best player in history”

Joan Laporta (Ex President, Barcelona) – “Messi is the best player in the world right now and the best ever. Together with Cruyff and Maradona, he’s the best we’ve seen at the club.”

Klaas jan Huntelaar (Schalke) - “Who’s better, Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo? Messi. Ronaldo is good, but Messi is ten times better.”

Sergio Aguero (Manchester City) – “Messi won 3 Ballons d’Or and is competing for another one. He will be the best player in the world until he retires.”

Antonio Cassano (Ex AC Milan) – “Messi is the best player in the history of football, and that’s why I prefer Barça over Real Madrid.”

Arda Turan (Atléti, Ex Galatasaray,) - “Messi or Ronaldo best player in the world? In the world, I would say Ronaldo. Messi is from another planet.”

Sandro Rosell (Ex President, Barcelona) - “I think Barca will never have a player like Messi again. Messi’s greatness is present on and off the field of play.”

Roy Keane (Ex Manchester United) – “I was a big fan of Maradona growing up and of the current crop Ronaldo is good but Messi is the best I’ve ever seen. I don’t dish out praise lightly but Messi deserves it. I look for weaknesses in his game and I can’t find them.”

Bacary Sagna (Ex Arsenal) – “Best Player I played against? Messi, when he plays wide. He is the best in the world. Football seems easy when he plays it”

Javier Mascherano (Barcelona) – “Although he may not be human, it’s good that Messi still thinks he is. Messi plays some another sport.”

Fabio Capello (Ex Coach, Juventus) -“In my entire life I have never seen a player of such quality and personality at such a young age, particularly wearing the ‘heavy’ shirt of one of the world’s great clubs.”

Raúl Gonzáles (Ex Real Madrid) – “The other day I saw one of his games. He was running with the ball at a hundred percent full speed, I don’t know how many touches he took, maybe five or six, but the ball was glued to his foot. It’s practically impossible!”

Gerard Pique (Barcelona) -“It doesn’t matter where Messi plays, if it’s cold or hot, he always proves that he’s the best.”

Marcello Lippi (Ex Coach, Italy) - “The best? Messi”

Antonio Cassano (Ex AC Milan) – “Ronaldinho is better than Cristiano Ronaldo, but neither are as good as Leo Messi.”

Fernando Gago (Ex Real Madrid) - “For me, the best in the world is Messi because of the way he plays, moves with the ball and changes matches, Messi has incredible ability and I love the way that he plays.”

Theirry Henry (Ex Arsenal, Barcelona) - “I have the possibility to watch Messi in training each morning, and because of what he demonstrates he is the best player in the world”

Arjen Robben (Ex Real Madrid) - “Messi is on another planet.”

Xavi Hernández (Barcelona) – “If he continues like this then I think Messi will be the best player in the history of football,”

Sir Alex Ferguson (Ex Coach, Manchester United) - “Critics have always questioned whether players like Pele from the 50s could play today. Lionel Messi could play in the 1950s and the present day, as could Di Stefano, Pele, Maradona, Cruyff because they are all great players. Lionel Messi without question fits into that category.”

Paulo Maldini (Ex AC Milan) - “When I see Lionel Messi playing, I think he should win it (Ballon d’or) every year. I have no doubt. He is an unbelievable player”

Pep Guardiola (Ex Coach, Barcelona) – “It has been an honour to be the coach of the best player (Messi) I have ever seen and probably the best I will see”

Ryan Giggs (Ex Manchester United) - “He is probably the best player of the last 20 years. He is such a slippery player. Because of his height and quickness he is difficult to pin down and his balance is exceptional.”

Manuel Pellegrini (Ex Coach, Villarreal) – ”I don’t know the parameters for the Ballon d’Or. I only know that Messi deserves to win every trophy”

Marco van Basten (Ex AC Milan) – “There is no doubt about it, Messi’s clearly the best player in the world. He’s a phenomenon who has already won everything, but is still hungry for more. His humbleness only makes him greater”

John Terry (Chelsea) - “For me, Lionel Messi is quite clearly the best player ever. It’s a pleasure to put myself against him and when I finish my career it’s something I can look back on and know I’ve tested myself against the very best.”

Vicente Del Bosque (Coach, Spain) - “Messi or Ronaldo? I prefer Messi because he is more of a street player.”

Zinedine Zidane (Ex France, Real Madrid) – “Messi makes the difference most of the time. In particular, he is always going forwards. He never passes the ball backwards or sideways. He has only one idea, to run towards the goal.So as a football fan, just enjoy the show.”

Filipe Scolari (Ex Coach, Portugal) – “The only bad thing about Ronaldo’s life is Messi. If it was not for him, Ronaldo would be the best player in the world for five years in a row.”

Robin Dutt (former Coach Bayer Leverkusen) - “You won’t see anyone else like Messi. People said that Di Stefano, Maradona and Cruyff were the best when they were playing. And now it is the same for Messi. He is on the throne and it is down to him how long he stays there.”

Jack Wilshere (Arsenal) – “Ronaldo is good but I am #TeamMessi all day everyday! Everyone is allowed 1 bad game in 300 right?”

Radamel Falcao (Athletico Madrid) – “Is Messi a real player or a Play Station character?”

Neymar (Brazil, Barcelona) – “It is very simple, Messi is the best in the world, and if you give him a little bit of space, he can do whatever he wants.”

Gheorghe Hagi (ex-Madrid -Barcelona) – “Messi or Cristiano? Cristiano Ronaldo is very good, but I prefer Messi. He’s incredible.”

Joey Barton (Queens Park Rangers) – “Messi is the best that’s played the game. Streets ahead of Maradona.”

Sid Lowe (Editor, Guardian) - “To compare Lionel Messi to anybody else is unfair on them”

Jorde Valdano (Ex Real Madrid) - “I believe that we have the first genius of the 21st century, Leo Messi.”

Michael Owen (Ex Liverpool) - “I can’t believe anyone can have played the game of football as well as Messi.”

Franz Beckenbauer (Ex Germany) - “Messi is a genius. He has everything. When I watch him, I see a player who is very, very, skilful, very clever and his left foot is like Diego Maradona’s.”

Manuel Almunia (Arsenal) - “Messi is very skilful and can do whatever he wants at any moment. He’s the best player in the world.”

Ronaldo (Brazil) – “There is no doubt that Messi is the best player in the world.”

Hristo Stoichkov (Ex Barcelona) – “Once they said they can only stop me with a pistol but today you need a machine gun to stop Messi.”

Romario (Ex Brazil) – “Messi has all the conditions to be the best.”

Oliver Kahn (Ex Germany) – “Messi is undoubtedly a gifted footballer, like Maradona and Pele, and he’s playing for the best club side in the world at the moment. He’s successful and he’s winning trophies, so it’s only logical that he’ll be voted the best player in the world.”

Thiago Silva (Brazil) - “Messi is a special player, certainly the best attacker I’ve played against to date, but I think comparing players from different generations is difficult. All I know is that he’s spectacular and already is definitely among the best ever.”

Michel Platini (President, UEFA) - “Messi is the great player of this generation, like there were great players in other generations.”

Alessandro Pato (Brazil) – “When Messi plays, he is the best.”

Ander Herrera (Athletic Bilbao) - “I’m not sure Messi is a human.”

Ganso (Brazil) - “Without doubt he is on another planet, because he does things others can’t.”

Luis Figo (Ex Portugal) – “For me, to watch Messi play is a pleasure – it’s like having an orgasm – it’s an incredible pleasure.”

Thiago Alacantara (Barcelona) - “We can give him the ball and we can stand back and watch him. People often say to me they saw Pele and Maradona play. In the future, I will be able to say I saw Messi play.”

Ruud Gullit (Ex Netherlands) - “He is already the best in the world. He is an exceptional talent. I still think Diego Maradona is the best player I have ever seen, but Messi is closing in fast. He’s a wonderful sight in full flight and we are lucky to have him around.”

Luis Figo (Ex Inter) - “Player I would like to sign for Internazionale? It’s easy, the strongest in Europe at the moment is Lionel Messi, so I would say him. Messi has amazing qualities, he is the best of all, number one. That is unquestiionable.”

Johan Cruyff (Ex Barcelona) – “For the world of football, Messi is a treasure because he is role model for children around the world.”

Maxi Rodriguez (Ex Liverpool) - “There is no doubt, you’re from another galaxy. Thanks Leo”

Demba Ba (Newcastle United) - “Is Messi a human being?????”

John Heitinga (Everton) - “Mejores jugador del Mundo Messi! Best player in the World!”

Gary Linekar (Ex England) - “Fella’s a genius! Best ever by a distance in my life time! Never really saw Pelé. Wait til he grows up! Souness, Gullit, Venables and now Rooney agree Messi is the best they have seen. He plays a game to which we are not familiar.”

Eden Hazard (Chelsea) – “Is Messi the best player of all times?”

Mano Meneses (Ex Coach, Brazil) – “Messi? We will play against the best in the world.”

Johan Cruyff (Ex Barcelona) – “Messi will be the player to win the most Ballons d’Or in history. He will win five, six,seven. He is incomparable. He’s in a different league.”

Rio Ferdinand (Ex Manchester United) - “Who were the best players I had ever played against? Raul,Messi, Zidane.”

Zlatan Ibrahimovic (PSG) : “Messi is more naturally gifted than Ronaldo. Messi does not need his right foot, though. He only uses the left and he’s still the best in the world! Imagine if he also used his right foot, Then we would have serious problems!”

Rivaldo (Ex Brazil) – “Between Cristiano Ronaldo and Messi, I go with Messi. For me he is the best in the World.”

Kobe Bryant (LA Lakers) - “I wear Number 10 Jersey for the US National Team in honor of the Greatest athlete i have ever seen, Messi.”

Miguel Angel Lotina (Ex Coach, Deportivo) – “Comparing Cristiano to Messi is an exercise of ignorance in football. Messi is Messi and others, footballers.”

Radomir Antic (Coach, Serbia) - “Messi is the Mozart of football.”

John Carlin (Journalist, Argentina) – “Messi is much more than being clever. He is a genius who reserves all his expressiveness for football.”

Mario Balotelli (Ex Manchester City) - “There’s only one that is a little stronger than me: Messi. All the othersare behind me.”

Massimo Moratti (President, Inter Milan) - “Messi is the only player for whom I would go crazy.”

Antonio Lobo Antunes (Writer, Portugal) - “There are 3 or 4 important things in life: Books, Friends, Women……and Messi.”

Mario Gomez (Bayern Munich) – “I am not crazy enough to compare myself with Messi because he is the best there ever was and the best there will ever be.”

Jürgen Klopp (Coach, Dortmund) - “Messi is the Best. There must be life out there somewhere, on some other planet. Because he is too good and we are just too bad for him.”

Ray Hudson (Commentator) - “They tell me that all men are equal in God’s eyes, this player (Messi) makes you seriously think about those words. ”

2014/2015 edition

Gianluigi Buffon - ‘’Messi is an alien, that dedicates himself to playing with humans.’’

Tata Martino - “He sees passes that most people can only see whilst watching the game on TV, not ones that you can normally see on the pitch.”

Carles Puyol - ‘’This Barca will be remembered as Messi’s Barca. He’s well above anything else I’ve ever seen. He’s an alien and better than four years ago because he reads the game better. He’s unstoppable’’

Raúl - ‘’I was lucky enough to play with Zidane, Ronaldo, Figo, Cristiano… but Messi is different; he makes everything look so easy, so effortless – even the impossible.’’

Henk Ten Cate - ‘’It’s too bizarre for words to see how good and consistent Messi has played. Of course he scored all these great goals, but in the end he has always served the team interests.  I can hardly imagine what’s coming for him next. At least he is so intelligent that he is also of tremendous value as a playmaker. You see in everything he does that he is not individualistic, and is happy when another score.’’

César Luis Menotti - ’What Messi does is terrifying. It’s indescribable magic. You can’t analyze it’’’

Gary Lineker - ‘’I never ever thought I would say that there was a better player than Maradona since he was in my time and I was in awe of him, but I honestly think for a number of reasons that Messi has surpassed him. He can do anything that Maradona did, and he does it more frequently and consistently.’’

Cerezo (president Atletico) - I’ve seen amazing players, but Messi is unique. Special. He’s a global player, he defines this sport’’

Alessandro Del Piero - ‘’Messi is the number one. He has talent, instinct, passion and magic. He is part of football heritage and we’re so lucky that he’s living in our time and that we can enjoy watching him.’’

Jamie Carragher - His achievements over the last decade have been so breathtaking that you could say he has outstripped those who have gone before — and it is quite possible we will never see them bettered

Graham Hunter - That’s how I like to think of it. It’s not Messi running toward a yawning goal net thinking “must score, must score.” It’s the entire history of football, the gods of football drawing him magnetically to the net with one refrain in their celestial minds: “This is the guy we invented football for … this is the man we want to dominate the history of goal scoring for all time.”

Juan Bernat - ‘’Messi is the best player in history. Anyone who understands football, even a little, thinks the same.’’

Mario Götze - ‘’He’s achieved so many great things and set the bar so high that practically nobody is ever going to reach it.’’

Javier Mascherano - ‘’I am too much ‘Messisist’ to compare his performances’’

Escribá (Elche coach) - ‘’ve never seen another player like Messi and I don’t think I ever will. It will be hard to imagine another player like him. I’ve seen Maradona and Cruyff play and Messi is better than both of them.’’

Angel di Maria - ‘’Having him as a rival is complicated. You see game after game that it is impossible to take the ball off him, impossible to stop him. There are no words to decribe his talent.’’

Diego Simeone - ‘’Messi alone is more dangerous than Real Madrid’s attacking trio Ronaldo, Benzema and Bale.’’

Franz Beckenbauer - ‘’We should not compare humans to God, but Messi is a godly player.’’

Paul Scholes - ‘’Let me tell you what it is like playing against Messi. You are up against a footballer who can take the ball either side of you, and you have no idea which side that might be from any hint about his body-shape. Unfortunately, there is also a third way that he might go past you – the worst of the lot – and that is through you, as Fernandinho and James Milner discovered to their cost.’’

Gary Lineker - ‘’Messi is indisputably the greatest player ever to don a pair of football boots. Don’t even attempt to argue the point.’’

good moments to fall in love w jooheon

  • when he smiles
  • when staff Pulls Some Shit and he makes that face u know the one
  • when he’s shocked/surprised and his jaw drops and his eyes go wide
  • in right now ep1 when he wasnt wearing makeup and kept covering his face w his sweatshirt
  • IN RIGHT NOW EP1 WHEN HE WAS SLEEPING W A STUFFED MAJIN BUU
  • when he’s really serious nd composed right after doing something silly
  • ALL I DO 2:47 - 2:50
  • when the subs describe him:
  • the rice paddle™
  • in monsta x right now ep 2 when he was doing self cam at the airport and he??? zoomed in on shownu while he was zoning out???? iconic.
  • when he’s immersed in something and he just sits there kinda squinting w his mouth open
  • when they were eating stinky tofu and minhyuk breathed on him and he looked so betrayed
  • poor beb got a cramp after the thigh game w wonho
  • his verse in stuck japanese version it was SO FAST HOLY F-
  • when he ate on monsta x ray and he asked the staff not to put sad music and filter on and of course they did
  • when he rapped for all the old ladies at the talent show
  • WHEN HE PLAYFIGHTS W SHOWNU
  • THE TINY BUN IN MONSTA X RAY 2 EP 8
  • “clean shoot, clean shoot, clean shoot, clean shoot, clean shoot, let’s go come on, clean shoot, clean shoot [BLEEP]
  • WHEN THEY HAD TO SING THE SONG AFTER SLEEPING AND HE LOOKED SO SOFT AND HIS CHEEKS WERE ALL PUFFY AND HE HAD LIKE ZERO CLUE WHAT WAS GOING ON
  • the whole Who’s the Best at Dating video and his reaction to the other’s answers
  • on ep 264 of weekly idol when he wore that shirt w flowers and SUSPENDERS
  • when he was rapping to make himself less scared [spoiler: it didnt work]
  • when one of the members says/does something Questionable and he just stands there Not Smiling
  • every moment is a good moment because he’s the sweetest and nicest and he deserves all the love in the whole entire world
Slowly//Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Reader.

*REQUESTED*

You stare at the ceiling, counting the hours of sleep you could get if you went to sleep right now. You glance at your clock, it was 3:28 a.m. You sigh, jumping as you phone rings.

“Stiles? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep. I’m assuming you can’t either since you answered on the first ring.”

“You’d be assuming right.”

“Can I come over? I want to see you.” He sounds anxious.

“Yeah. Come through the window though.”

“Leave it open for me. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Will do.” You hang up and open your window.

He’s there in less than ten minutes. “Hey.” He looks exhausted.

“God, Sti…don’t take this the wrong way, but…”

“I look terrible, I know.” He chuckles as he sits on your bed beside you.

“How are you doing?” You ask sincerely, placing your hand on top of his.

“Honestly? I’m absolutely wrecked. Y/N, I just…I can’t sleep anymore. I’m anxious all night long.”

“Here.” You move over on your bed, pulling the covers back. He kicks his shoes off and gets under. You run a hand through his hair as he sighs.

“Stay here for the night, I’ll talk with you until morning if I have to.” You smile.

You ended up watching a movie and cuddling, he was asleep within five minutes of having you in his arms.

You woke up in the morning with his arms still around you. You turn over and look at the sleeping boy before you. You study his features, the way his moles speckle his skin.

You eventually fall back asleep, awoken by Stiles removing his arm from your waist. “Hey.” He smiles.

“Did you sleep well?” You sit up.

“Yeah. Probably too well.” He chuckles as he climbs out of the bed. “I should probably head home before my dad realizes I wasn’t home all night.”

“Okay.” You nod. “Call me when you’re home.”

“Of course.” He slides his shoes back on and pulls his hoodie over his head. He slips back out the window.

He came back that night and slept again, your arrangement becoming routine. Your mom never asked you about it, she always trusted Stiles. It had gotten to the point where the two of you couldn’t sleep without each other.

You FaceTimed Stiles, the phone’s shrill ring all too familiar.

“Y/L/N!” He grins. He’s lying on his back shirtless, his phone positioned so you can see the start of his chest hair.

“Stilinski!” You giggle. “What are you up to?” You roll onto your stomach.

“Trying to convince myself that I’m not in any immediate danger. Y'know, I’m your local anxiety professional.” He shrugs.

“Is your anxiety bad today?” You ask.

“Not particularly. It’s just a nagging feeling at the back of my mind.”

“Do you want to come over?” You raise an eyebrow. “Your bestest friend in the world may or may not have rented the entire Saw series.”

He smiles and sits up, “I’m on my way.”

“The window’s unlocked.” You grin before hanging up.

He climbs in just as you put the first movie in. “Did you get popcorn?”

You turn around and smile, he was wearing the best friend shirt you’d gotten on spring break. “Stilinski!” You shout, pointing at your matching shirt.

He laughs and jumps onto your bed.

“Yes, I got popcorn. I even got the movie theater kind that you like.”

“You’re a saint.” He smiles.

“I’ll go pop it now.” You start out the door.

“Wait!” He jumps up and you turn to look at him. “I’ll come with you.”

You both ran to the kitchen, Stiles betting he could beat you.

You slam your palm on the counter when you beat him. “I win.”

“Oh yeah?” He steps closer.

“Yeah.” You breathe out as his chest meets yours.

He stares at you for a second before pressing his lips to yours.

He picks you up and sits you on the counter, your legs instinctively going around his waist. You slide your arms around his neck as he pulls away.

He presses his forehead to yours. “Was that weird?”

“I mean…I was into it.” You smile.

He chuckles, “I’ve wanted to do that for…quite a while now.”

“I’ve wanted you to do that for quite a while now.” You shrug.

“So..what does this whole situation mean for us then?”

“I don’t know…maybe you should take me out Saturday and we can find out.”

Stiles laughs, “It’s a date.”

My JIB8 photo op with Jared.

I was wearing my ‘I AM Enough’ shirt and as I walked up to Jared, he took a look at my shirt and told me he loved it <3

My head looks ridiculouslessly small in this picture compared to Jared’s but, in my defence, he squeezed me so hard that my face got pressed into his chest (not complaining about that the slightest!). I completely agree with the people who say that Jared gives the best hugs! Also, I didn’t realize until I picked up the picture that Jared had closed his eyes too.

After the picture was taken, Jared grabbed my hands and squeezed them, and I somehow managed to stutter out that he was my favorite person in the entire world. Jared responded with “You’re MY favorite person“ and then thanked me and told me that I rock. At that point, I had begun to turn my back on him to grab my bag and head out of the room, but then I felt Jared touching my shoulder. He said: “Hey“ and I turned to look at him, and Jared looked me in the eyes and repeated his thank you. That really touched me - that he wanted to make sure I’d heard him and knew how much my words meant to him.

Jared Padalecki is beautiful <3

It Happens: Chapter One // A Phan Multi-Shot

Genre: fluff, angst, high school au

Words: 2.6k (this chapter)

Relationship status: strangers to friends to lovers

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Phil Lester is one of the brightest students in his class, with good friends, good grades, and a good reputation. When he gets an assignment to complete ten hours of service during a semester of class, he gets asked to tutor someone in his grade, Dan Howell. But there’s something Dan isn’t telling him: a reason for why he always shows up late (if he shows up at all), why he gets sick all the time, and why in the world he carries around a giant bottle of hand sanitizer wherever he goes.  

Masterlist (coming soon) | ao3 link

Keep reading

@sandrasr91 asked: richonne + things you said when you thought i was asleep

He tells her to sleep - to not worry about him and sleep - because if there’s one thing he knows, it’s that they both won’t be getting much sleep, at least for a few weeks, if not more.  And she’s the only one who’s done any hard work so far, so she’s the one that get to sleep.

She doesn’t want to sleep, because she’s so pretty and perfect and small and she never wants to stop looking at her.  She has Rick’s clear, bright, blue eyes and her smooth, dark skin and she looks like Carl when she smiles even though her boys say the dimples pressed into her cheeks are the same ones Judith had right after she was born. 

She’s a perfect mix of all four of them, somehow, even though it seems impossible.  The four of them are barely related to each other by blood, but this baby is theirs - is all of theirs - and it shows on her face, regardless of how much that doesn’t make sense.  She’s theirs, and she’s beautiful, and she never wants to close her eyes again, never want to lift her gaze from perfect person they’ve been given.

So she agrees to try and sleep, but she makes Rick promise not to leave the room, which he does while chuckling softly.  So she lays down, and he tucks the comforter around her like she’s the infant, instead of the little bundle in his arms.  She smiles, and he presses his lips to her forehead, and then to her temple and then to her cheekbone, before standing straight up and beginning to pace back and forth across the floor gently.

And she’s just about to let the sound of his footsteps lull her into a much-needed slumber, when the whisper of his voice catches her ear.

“I promise, I’m never going to let anything bad ever happen to you.”

It’s a frivolous thing to promise - a foolish thing, even.  Especially in the kind of world they live in.  It’s something you can’t promise.  You couldn’t before, and you especially can’t now.

But he’s promised it, all the same.

She feels the bed dip as he sits down on the edge on the other side, and she only manages to slide her eyes closed again for a moment before she’s on her knees, crawling over to his side and resting her chin on his shoulder, staring down at the precious baby cradled in the crook of his arm.  He tilts his head to the side, laying his cheek on the top of her head.

“We’re not gonna be able to protect her from everything,” she breathes, stretching out her index finger and smiling as she wraps her tiny baby fist around it.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Rick,” she implores, drawing out the syllable of his name like a song.

“I know,” he answers quickly.  “I know that.  God, I know that, it’s just…we have to try, don’t we?  We have to try.”

He turns his head, and locks his gaze with hers, his eyes beginning to shine with tears.

“We do,” she tells him, bringing her hand up to stroke the side of his face.  “And we will.  But we have to know that sometimes, we’ll fail.  And that’s okay.  As long as we try, and do the absolute best we can.  And as long as we get all the big stuff, like walkers and Governors and Negans the world has to offer.”

“I’m not letting anything like that get within a mile of her.”

She laughs, and kisses his nose before settling again on his shoulder.

“Look at her, Rick,” she whispers.  “She’s ours.  We made her.”

“She’s perfect,” he says, awe in his voice.  “She’s the most perfect, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Look what we made,” she mumbles into his shirt, and she reaches her arms around his chest so she can hold him.

They’re her entire heart and soul - him, their baby, and the two children sleeping in the rooms just down the hall.  They’re everything she is.

“Look what we made,” she says again.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, leaning back into her the tiniest bit.  “Look what we made.”

send me a ship + a number and i’ll write you a story!


follow my writing @reciprocityfic!

WES GIBBINS WOULD BE AN AMAZING FATHER

because f*ck you, connor! (and your eyebrows!)

wes gibbins would be a father who:

  • was so tall baby gibbins-castillo would be able to see the entire world from his shoulders, and don’t even talk to me about how he would help them place the star on the christmas tree!
  • gives you a piece of cookie dough when mom isn’t looking
  • says: “of course i’ll make a fort with you!”
  • reads bedtime stories every night
  • has an apron that says: ‘AMAZING CHEF, AMAZING FATHER’
  • tells his kid that the colors have no gender
  • lets his kid wear his flannel shirts that are at least 12 sizes too big for them
  • has a seat for the back of his bike, in which his child can sit
  • makes the best pancakes on a saturday morning 
  • does his daughter’s hair 
  • gives perfect hugs and piggy-back rides

based off of @bambocomicx amazing version of Heather Chandler with red hair, go follow them!

Heather Chandler looked down at the shirt her girlfriend just gave her. She looked up to meet the bright smile and eager eyes of Veronica Sawyer. Heather looked at the shirt once more before letting out a deep sigh.

The shirt was black and read Red Hair Don’t Care in a dark red font.

“I literally dyed my hair three days ago, where did you even find this on such short notice?” The (now) red-head questioned.

Veronica simply smiled as she responded, “I looked it up on Amazon and got two-day shipping. I got a matching shirt as well! I thought we could like, wear them and have it be a cute couple thing.”

The brunette held up another black shirt, but it read Messy Hair Don’t Care in a blue font. Veronica shot a wide smile at her girlfriend who just looked at the brunette’s frizzy hair and sighed.

“I can’t believe you, you’re such a dork. Also if you think I’m wearing this in public, you’re wrong,” Heather said as she watched the other girls face fall.

Veronica sighed as she simply took the shirt in Heather’s hand back.

“If you didn’t like it, you could’ve just told me,” she said with a frown.

Heather saw as Veronica’s eyes grew dark and she felt her heart clench. The redhead hated having a soul. She ripped the shirt she had on off and took the other shirt back and put it on. She tucked it into her shorts and glared at the shorter girl.

“Well? What’re you waiting for, put on your shirt, we’re going out right now and we’re showing the world how fucking cute we are,” Heather commanded as she cocked a hip out.

Veronica’s eyes lit up once more and quickly put the shirt on and tucked it into her skirt. She hugged Heather and smiled as she let her go.

“Best. Girlfriend. Ever. C’mon let’s go show the world our cute shirts, everyone’s gonna be so jealous because we’re so amazing.” Veronica grabbed Heather’s hand and dragged her out of the redhead’s own room.

Heather and Veronica ended up simply walking around the small town for around two hours, holding hands the entire time. Sometimes they would get compliments and Heather could feel Veronica practically perk up and squeeze the redhead’s hand in excitement.

Heather regretted saying she wouldn’t wear the shirt in public when this was the reaction she got out of her Ronnie. The brunette linked arms with the redhead and laid her head on her shoulder.

“I told you we’d be cute,” Veronica said with a smile as they walked back to Heather’s house.

“Yeah, well of course we are. It’s us, when the hell are we not cute?” Heather replied as she flipped her hair.

Veronica let out a deep laugh and snuggled closer to Heather and hummed an agreement. This is what their relationship was, and neither would change it for all the riches in the world.

Alexander Spencer Reid

A/N: An anon request for a Spencer x Reader who’s heavily pregnant with their baby, an unsub captures her and when she’s found, Spencer has to deliver their baby because there’s no time to get to a hospital. @coveofmemories

                                                            ——–

Cabin fever. 

So much cabin fever.

You’d been on bedrest for the past two weeks and the team, per Spencer’s instructions, wouldn’t even let you get involved with the case. They said you needed rest. No, you needed to be occupied. You still had about a week to go before your due date and you were losing your fucking mind. 

Well, you weren’t going to work. Weren’t allowed. So you decided to get dressed, with hopefully matching shoes (couldn’t see your feet anymore and frankly didn’t care) and go for a walk down the street to the diner.

Once you got outside the building, you made your way to the diner. They had pancakes. The baby wanted pancakes. As you made your way down the street, you saw the smiling faces of the random people that you lived near; they were probably laughing at the fact that at this stage in your pregnancy you were waddling like a penguin. “Pick a name yet?” the old man asked. Giuseppe Aguanno was always going down to the diner, so whenever you went yourself, you’d run into him. He’d been a neighbor of Spencer’s for years, so you both knew him very well.

“No, not yet,” you replied, turning into the ATM to grab some cash. “Gonna wait until the birth. Then we’ll make a decision.” You placed your hand on your stomach and felt the baby kick. “I’ll see you down at the diner in a few. Save me and the baby a seat.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he smiled, turning away and walking down the street and out of your line of vision. After taking your cash and placing it in your wallet, you walked out of the vestibule and back toward the diner, when all of a sudden, you felt someone come out of the alleyway and grab you around the stomach. The barrel of a gun was at your back.

“Come quietly or your baby dies.”

                                                           ——–

“Giuseppe?” Spencer said, walking out to the hallway where Penelope said he had a visitor. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he said shakily. “I ran into your lovely wife this morning. She was getting money from the ATM on Washington and we were going to meet at the diner. She said to save her a seat.”

“And she didn’t show?” Spencer asked worriedly. That wasn’t like her. She never passed up an opportunity to spend time with the little old man that lived in the building next to them. Giuseppe shook his head. “Okay, stay here for a second. I need to tell my team, but I’d like you to take me back to the last place you saw her.”

Spencer turned around and sprinted toward the conference room, breathless. “Something wrong?” Hotch asked, noticing Spencer’s concerned look.

“One of my neighbors is out in the hallway, he said he ran into Y/N this morning and she said she’d meet him at the diner, but she never showed.” She was one week from delivering their baby. He could be overreacting, but he had to make sure. “I asked him to stay so he could take us to where he last saw her.”

“Let’s go,” Hotch said. Everyone ran toward the elevators like their lives depended on it.

                                                          ——–

“This is where I saw her last,” Giuseppe said, pointing toward the vestibule. Morgan looked inside while the rest of the team looked around in other areas. 

“Over here!” Spencer screamed, crouching down in the alleyway a block before the diner. When everyone came over, they saw something shining in Spencer’s hand. “Her wedding ring,” he said, now convinced that something had happened to her. “She dropped it on purpose. For me to find.”

“How do you know?” Emily asked, searching around for another clue. “How can you tell?”

“Because,” he started, “she normally had a ring fitter inside the band because it was slightly too big, but with the pregnancy weight it started to fit perfectly. She could literally shake her hands around and it wouldn’t fly off. The only reason it came off is because she took it off. We need to look and see if she’s dropped anything else.”

Frantically, they searched around for clues. It didn’t look like she’d dropped anything else, so they contacted Garcia and told her to locate her cell phone. They had to hope the unsub that had her was naive enough to not have disposed of her cell phone.

They had to find her. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose his baby before he even had a chance for them to meet.

                                                         ——–

When you woke up, you immediately looked down to see your hands and legs were tied to a chair.

A kick. You felt a kick. The baby was okay.

Your head snapped back as a hand cracked across your face. “Where is the bomb?” he screamed. The man couldn’t have been older than 30. Buzz cut. Tall stance. He looked like a military man. Recently discharged? 

“I don’t have one!” you screamed. “I don’t know!” Again, he cracked you across the face and looked like he was going to go for your stomach. “Please! Don’t hurt my baby!” You had no way out of this. None of your limbs were free. All you could do was beg. 

“Then tell me where the bomb is!” He stormed around the room. Given his outbursts and seeming loss of reality, you could only guess that he was a former military man in charge of interrogations overseas. Somehow a pregnant woman had imprinted on him and now that he was back, he had PTSD and thought he was back there. You could feel your cell phone underneath you - the only hope of being found was right beneath you. 

When you looked down, you saw a rip in your jeans. That’s right. You passed out from the pain after he cut you. “Please,” you sobbed, trying in vain to reach out for the baby. “Don’t hurt my baby.”

A third crack across the face brought the metallic taste of blood. “Step away from the woman!” you heard Hotch scream. As the man lifted his hand yet again, a shot rang out. He was on the floor - a bullet between the eyes. 

“Y/N!” Spencer cried, pushing past Hotch to get to you. He collapsed in front of you on his knees and caressed your cheeks. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“I can still feel it kicking,” you cried, as Emily, JJ and Morgan cut you out of your restraints. “Where are we? It looks like we’re outside the city.”

“We are,” Rossi said. “He drove you 40 miles out. It’s dead out here.” Testing your legs, you stood up and felt your legs turn to jelly. “We have to get you to a hospital,” he said. 

With Spencer’s help, you stood up again only to feel a warm liquid leak down your leg. “Oh no,” you muttered, your knees giving out from underneath you. “Not now. Please not now.”

Immediately, Spencer’s eyes turned from relieved to concerned. “Your water broke?” he cracked. “How far out is the ambulance?”

Hotch checked his watch. “At least 20 minutes. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Ahhhhh!!!” you screamed, clutching your stomach as you felt what had to be an intense contraction. Again, Spencer’s demeanor did a 180. Months ago, he’d joked that he memorized a birthing manual just in case you went into labor in the field. Little did you know that he was actually going to need that information. 

Spencer combed his hands through his hair and turned toward the rest of the team. “Morgan I saw a stream outside. Find something and get water.” Morgan turned around to look for something. “Coat first.” Confused, Morgan pulled off his coat and then found a couple of buckets and ran outside for water. “Everyone else, I need your coats.” 

As the tremors of another contraction ripped through your body, Spencer laid the coats on the floor. With Hotch’s help, the two of them lifted you onto the coats. “We’re going to be doing this here,” he said, undoing your jeans and pulling them down your body as Emily draped Spencer’s coat over your legs. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, another contraction cresting. He looked underneath the coat. Apparently, you were fully dilated. Finally, Morgan returned with water. You had no idea what it was actually for, but fuck it, it didn’t matter. 

“JJ,” Spence said, pointing towards your head, “Prop her head up and most importantly let her grab your hand as she screams bloody murder.” If you weren’t internally panicking, you would’ve laughed. JJ moved underneath you, grabbing your hand and cradling your head. 

“You can do this,” she said, somewhat unconvincingly. Everyone else was staring at you in a panic. God, this was not what you imagined for the birth of your first child.

Spencer took a deep breath and you looked down. “Y/N, you are fully dilated. The next contraction I need you to push. Okay?” 

“Oh fuck,” you said, closing your eyes and letting the tears fall onto JJ’s jeans. “I’m scared. I can’t do this out here. What if something happens to the baby? What if…”

“You can do it,” he said. “You are the strongest woman I know. Next contraction, push.” 

“Ooooooh! Fuck!” you cried out, bearing down with all of your might. You felt the baby move. Oh my god, this was the most painful thing in the entire fucking world. Spencer counted 10 and told you to stop, instructing you on how to breath. The panic made everything you knew about birthing a baby fly out the window.

About 20 seconds passed before the next contraction hit. As you pushed and screamed, Emily and Hotch kneeled down next to you, doing their best to comfort you. When you stopped screaming, Morgan piped up, his finger in his ear. “Man, you sure have a set of lungs, Y/N.”

Your head snapped in his direction. Reaching out, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “I have a full grown person tearing its way out of my vagina right now and from what I can tell it’s halfway in and halfway out! WHAT DO YOU EXPECT FROM ME!? AHHHHHH!”

“Push!” Spencer screamed. “Keep going! The baby’s almost out!” You bore down as much as you possibly could, feeling the baby exit your body and into Spencer’s waiting arms. “It’s a boy,” he cried, placing him on your stomach.

You started sobbing as your baby boy was placed in your arms. He was so beautiful. You barely even noticed when Spencer sterilized his pocket knife to cut the cord. As Spencer came to your side and kissed your forehead, you saw the flashing blue and red lights. “You okay?” he asked, looking down at your son. 

“In pain, but I’m great. Look at him,” you smiled. “What should we name him?”

“Alexander?” he proposed. “Defender of men?”

“Just like his daddy,” you smiled, kissing him before the EMT’s came to put you on a stretcher. “Alexander Spencer Reid.”

I Said No

Requested by anonymous: Your Shawns girlfriend and get really tipsy and try to sleep with him and he being the amazing boyfriend he is doesn’t want to cause your drunk.


Shawn asked you to come to the after party for an award ceremony he was attending and you obviously, said yes.

It wasn’t all the time that you could actually attend something like this with Shawn since sometimes the award shows were too far away and other commitments got in the way of you going. So, it was a nice surprise when you were actually able to go.

Shawn had spent a lot of time getting ready before the award show, wanting to make sure that he looked okay.

You reassured him multiple times, that “no, babe, your hair doesn’t look weird,” or “your tie looks fine, what are you talking about? You didn’t even tie it, I did!,” or a “no, babe, I swear if your fly is down I will tell you, but it’s not and if it was, you couldn’t even tell.”

It was weird to see him so worried about his appearance like this. Caroline, Shawn’s outfit designer said that he needs some encouragement sometimes, but other times he’ll look in the mirror and be completely pleased with what he saw.

This was not one of those times. You can admit, you’ve had the same thoughts as you were dressed in an olive green halter top dress fitted with a skater skirt and some black high strappy heels.

Shawn had told you that you looked too gorgeous for the rest of the world to see, so you didn’t fret too much, but it seemed as if Shawn needed the most encouragement out of you two.

“Shawn, you need to calm down and accept the way you look, otherwise we’ll be late.” You sigh, looking at the clock and fixing your silver bracelet on your left wrist. You look up, grabbing Shawn by the lapels of his suit jacket and forcing him to look at you. “You look so hot, you know? You really don’t have to worry anymore than maybe a ‘oh, is a hair out of place?’ Really babe, quit fretting, you’re very handsome.” You tell him, kissing his cheek lightly to avoid getting your lip product on his skin.

“You’re right.” He smiles, slipping his hand around your waist. “We better get going.”

As you two arrive, you can see a red carpet in front of a wall holding multiple logos and the name of the even on the front. You took a deep breath as you see how many photographers are shouting at other celebrities to look their way.

“You’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Shawn smiles and leads you out onto the carpet, flashing lights practically blinding you. Photographers are shouting “to your left, to your right, right here!” It does overwhelm you, but Shawn is holding onto you the whole time, making you less intimidated.

“Can we get some of Shawn alone, please?” A few shout and Shawn leans his mouth down towards your ear.

“Go wait by Andy, I’ll only be a minute, I promise.” He kisses your cheek quickly as you walk towards Andrew who smiles at you.

Once Shawn was done, he walks back towards you and takes hold of your hand, John and Andrew following the both of you.

You get to your seats, Shawn’s hand never leaving your right knee that you crossed over your left leg.

Shawn left with an award - you had no doubt, so you all left feeling happy and content with the way things turned out.

Once you got to the after party, you immediately searched for a glass of champagne - being near all of these celebrities made you super nervous and you knew what would take the edge of of things - alcohol, obviously.

Shawn didn’t have anything to drink, not really feeling it. All the more reason for you to, right? Not exactly.

Your first glass turned into your fifth, and as you reached for your sixth, Shawn took the glass from your hand and placed it on a nearby table.

“Shawwwwwwwwwwwn,” you dragged out, slumping against him as he got close to you. “Whyyyyy did you take myy drink awayyy?” You frowned, feeling betrayed that your boyfriend would do such a cruel thing to you.

“Baby, you’re cut off; you’ve had enough for one night.” Shawn explains to you, smiling and nodding curtly at someone who said hi passing by.

“But, I’m not even drunkkk,” you slurred, putting your arms around Shawn and swaying.

Well, you swayed a little too much and almost through Shawn off balance, almost causing you two to crash into the center table.

“No, Y/N, you’re more than drunk.” Shawn said seriously. “John!”

John walked over to you two as you nestled your head in between the crook of Shawn’s neck and shoulder.

“Can you please go find some water for Y/N, please?”

John simply nodded and walked away, on a mission to find some water.

In your drunken state, you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly hot your boyfriend looked in all black. Well, you in your drunken state and in any state, really.

Your hands made their way to Shawn’s shirt buttons, trying to undress him and Shawn shoved your hands away, becoming a little squirmy.

“Shawwwwn, you look s-soo hot tonight, we should do it. Like right now, in front of everyone hereeee!” You said a little loudly, causing Shawn to put a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Y/N, we’re not going to do that.” Shawn said, irritated.

However, your hands found their way to his button and zipper on his pants - trying to get them undone.

“But, I love when we have sex, Shawwwn, you’re so goodddd at i-it.” You hiccup, smiling.

“Okay, we’re not having sex Y/N, not now and especially when you’re in this state.” He says, looking around and holding your hands in place so you wouldn’t try to unbutton anything else.

“You don’t want to have sex with me?” Tears arise in your eyes and Shawn audibly sighs very loudly.

“Y/N, I didn’t say that. I just don’t want to have sex with you right now.”

Your tears immediately vanish. “Oh, I get it, you’re shy to do it in front of everyonnne. I get it, it’s okayy, babyyy. You’re very good lookinggg.”

“Yeah, Y/N, that’s exactly it.”

John comes back with some water and you can hear Shawn tell him that they need to leave and all John does is nod, escorting you two out of the after party.

Andrew is found five minutes later, the four of you getting in the car together.

“What’s going on?” Andrew asks and Shawn points at you who has become increasingly sleepy.

“She’s had too much to drink, I’m taking her home.”

Andrew doesn’t say anything else, just nods in understanding.

John drops you two off at your home, Shawn carrying you inside as you rest comfortably against his chest.

He sets you down on your bed, disappearing for a minute, but returning with a glass of water and some advil that he knows you’ll be needing tomorrow morning.

“Shawnn, are we going to have sex now?” You say sleepily, but still very intoxicated.

He sits on the bed next to you, bringing your feet over to his lap so he can take your shoes off.

He doesn’t answer you about your question, but instead helps you sit up. His hands delicately glide across the back of your neck to untie your dress.

“So, you do want to have sexxx.” You say cheekily and he shakes his head, going to your drawers to pick out a random t-shirt.

He gets you out of your dress, somehow, and pulls the shirt over your head.

“No, we’re going to sleep.” He says, taking off whatever he needs to feel comfortable and get under the covers with you.

“Together?” You ask as you nestle against him, your eyes closing.

His fingers brush through your hair lightly as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“No, just sleeping.”

And then you were out like a light.

When you wake up, all that remains with your memory is the enormous headache in your skull.

“Feeling better?” Shawn asks, coming out of your bathroom.

His voice pierces your eardrums and you wince, putting your finger to your lips in an attempt to tell him to be quiet.

Reaching for the advil and water, you simply want to go back to sleep.

It was a full three hours before your headache had vanished.

Shawn sat in bed with you, not saying anything, just laying next to you and doing things on his phone.

“You know, you were extremely amusing last night.” Shawn speaks for the first time in a while.

You wince, thinking about the horrible things you could’ve done last night.

“You just kept saying how you wanted to sleep with me and tried to unbutton my shirt and pants and things.” He chuckles, finding it funny now.

“God, Shawn, I’m so sorry.” You say, completely embarrassed.

“I would be happy to sleep with you, Y/N.” Shawn laughs. “Just not when I don’t know if you’re okay with it and when you’re not going to remember the next morning.”

Shawn was a blessing and probably the best guy in the entire world.

“I love you.” You tell him.

“I love you too.”

-

requests are open!

Sorry this was super long, but I had fun writing this! Please be careful while drinking guys, you have no idea what could happen!