the word needs more love letters

You are the moon
and you are the stars,
you’re so much more
and the sun above,

you are meant
to light my path,
you are meant
to guide me through the dark,

you are beauty
and you are grace,
you are so much more
than a pretty face,

you are bright
and you’re complete,
you are full
and what I need.

—  // you

lately i’ve been thinking a lot about the specificity of language. everyone always talks about how english has one word for love, i’m bored of that. i think a lot about how we have a word for a sign of things to come (portent) and how we have a word for freeing someone of sin (absolve), we have a word for a sudden outburst of any kind of activity (paroxysm). today my brother taught me wayzgoose: “an entertainment given by a master printer to his workmen each year on or about St. Bartholomew’s Day”. 

i think about this in a kiss, how we purse our lips, how we press into each other, how kiss is a small word for an action that feels big - i think about how we have french kiss, how we have a smack on the cheek, a peck. i think about this when we make eye contact, how we have “a moment” that passes between two people like an envelope, one that reads of more, more, more - i think of who gave us the names for obscure things. how shakespeare gave us elbow, and what did we call it beforehand. 

what word is there for the way your eyes look when you talk about your favorite thing. we have phosphorescence, the property of emitting light, but that’s not right. what word is there for how it feels with the floor against your back while you’re watching sunbeams filter dust motes. there’s languid, relaxed, but that doesn’t work. what word is there for how it feels beside your best friend, listening to them laugh, knowing this moment is a pocket that keeps all of the good things inside, one i will tuck myself into again and again, one i am somehow distant from even though i’m enjoying it: watching the moment become a memory i think of fondly, even while it’s happening. 

there’s kissing, there’s leaning in, there’s words for summer and fireflies in jars and fall creeping in. there’s words for leaves and the smoke in the air from breathing and there’s words for the fire of a sunset on an autumn evening. i think about how we made words for things. the oxford dictionary gives us 171,476 current words to make sense of things. how we let poets give us syllables for how it feels to fall into someone’s arms (melting) and someone who talks a lot (gregarious) and vast burning (conflagration). the beauty of language is we have a word for that until we don’t have a word for that and then poetry comes in. 

if i kiss you i think: portent. if i kiss you i think of telling you here is where our lips purse here is where my sins absolve here is the paroxysm of my heart. i kiss you and i think: what words do other people use when they need to fill in the emptiness of “love”. do they think conflagration, the misery of scorching, or do they think of slow burning. do they think portent. do they think of kisses as french or as just kisses, no purses or bow lips. when they lean in do they melt into it. when they love, is it just that? something specific? or do they mean “the spaces around this word say more than the letters i’m given.”

Hello, Gentle Reader. This is Fan Fiction.

Recently, I’ve seen some rumblings across my dashboard about fan fiction again.  

I don’t want to dive into a debate because all the information that I have to go on are second hand sources and there’s always going to be a bit of bias there, because one person can see it in one way and another person can perceive it in another way.  

I’d rather explain to you, New and Gentle Reader, what fan fiction is, if this is the first time you’ve heard about it.  

Fan fiction is what happens when you walk out of the theater, turn off the TV, the radio, close that book or whatnot for the first time and ask yourself  “What happens next?"  Or:  "What if it happened THIS way instead?"  Fan fiction is what happens when you are six or seven years old and you take your dolls, your action figures, your stuffed toys and various household items as props and send them all onto adventure.  Maybe Barbie rescues G.I. Joe from Cobra or Optimus Prime fights the Evil Transforming Kitchen Thingy that Mom uses for making meatloaf but should really be the Evil Transforming Dark Lord of the Sith.  

Fan fiction is what happens when you are ten and you’re discovering how to really write for the first time and you put words on the page, in your math and English notebooks, one sentence after another, style be damned, painstakingly bringing forth to life the images in your head of your cartoon and movie and book heroes.  

Fan fiction happens when you are in your teens and you want to be the hero or the heroine of the story and you want to fight alongside Captain America and the Avengers and go on the Quest to Erebor or save Frodo from the effects of the Ring.  

Fan fiction happens when you are in your twenties or your thirties or beyond that and you are still writing because you just enjoy and love telling stories.  There’s a new maturity to your writing and that happens because you’re a bit older, though maybe not wiser, but you still love telling the stories anyway.  People tell you that you should write for money and sometimes you think, hey I could try that and you dream.  And sometimes you just smile and say, "I just like telling stories” and that is more than enough for you.  

And sometimes people fall in love in your stories, regardless of sex or gender.  Sometimes they fight.  Sometimes they laugh.  They cry.  They hate.  They die.  Sometimes they kiss.  Sometimes they make love.  Sometime it’s just sex.  You keep writing.  You can’t help it.  You get that idea and you just need to write it down.  Word for word.  One sentence after another.  Just like when you were a kid and you’d wear your pencils to stubs and let your pens run out of ink as you shape the letters.  

That’s fan fiction.  Sometimes, the best stories in the world start because they were fan fiction.  Ask Shakespeare.  Ask Jules Verne.  Ask Neil Gaiman.  

Gentle Reader, if this is your first time in here, then I hope you might find the time to read my stories.  I humbly ask, because a fan fiction writer’s currency is in the feedback of his or her readers and we’re happy to hear from them when it’s good and devastated when we get hate from those who don’t even have the courage to sign their names.  If it’s not for you, then I understand.  It’s all right.  Move on, that’s okay.  These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.  Maybe there’s something else you’d like.  It’s fine.  

And this is what I hope for if you do decide to venture in.

I hope you smile.  I hope you laugh.  I hope that you ended up snorting coffee out your nose in the middle of Starbucks.  (Here’s a napkin.  Sorry that I’m not sorry?)  I hope that I made you giggle in the middle of the subway or the bus stop and you get weird looks from folks passing by.  

I hope you cry, because sometimes I write sad things and that makes me cry too.  Here’s a tissue.  It’s okay.  Sometimes there are no happy endings.

I hope you are frightened, but only in a way that a good, scary story can make you feel frightened.  Sometimes there are dark and terrible things out there and they’re part of the Story too.  Hold my hand.  It’s all right.  I’ve got you.

I hope you blush and maybe smile a little later when love and romance and sweet things are told.  Love is a gift and true love is meant to endure.  And sometimes there’s hurt and pain and grief in there too, but you already know that.  You’ve lived that.  Sometimes we do have happy endings after all.  There’s always hope.  

Are you ready?

It doesn’t always start with “once upon a time” or “a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…” but every story starts somewhere.  

Turn the page.  Click the button.

Here we go.    

We said our final goodbyes and my heart broke in two. I would have waited for you for the rest of my life if all you needed was time but sadly, you showed me time and time again that I was always the one who cared more. You always fought me about that- claiming you care just as much but I think you forget actions speak louder than words and if you truly did care as much as me, we’d be together regardless of our circumstances. I’m sorry you couldn’t love me the way that I loved you because I would have given you the world.
—  Farewell, my dear. I will always wish you well.
You’re the story I tell when the wind asks about my love for sunsets, the punctuation I erase when our reflections sink into the shore. How does every sign we construct explain how some people are meant to fall in love, but aren’t meant to be together? how new constellations form every time I whisper your name, but the night still drinks the caffeine we left at our feet? I just wanted to be the owner of the galaxies dripping from your eyes, the piece you could live without when our hands are grasping for the leaves falling short of a title we’re still rearranging. The less we talk, the more words mean. The less we smile, the more I find your laughter in every six string song. On my best days, I’m just a breath away from you, but sometimes, I just need a little help getting out of my head. Or when I need to get off the bed, some words push us towards insanity– if you were ever mad at me, would you speak your thoughts? If you ever fell in love with me? Would you tell me? If you wanted to know something unusual– I’ve got you. I enjoy the oddness of questions. Like how it sends us on a quest for the truthful answers midway. I don’t like acronyms because the shortness of letters can never compare to the shortness in my breathing when it comes to the lines of oh my god, you’re beautiful tonight. The less we smile, the more I find your atmosphere most needed– some laughter controls the bleeding, some lovers control the weather, and some nights I need both. Some nights I seem to choke on my regrets, it’s never dinnertime when you’ve got so much on your mind. It’s never writing if you’ve done nothing right. You’re always wrong if you start crying in the middle of a song that triggered certain feelings that you shouldn’t be having. you’re always spacing out whenever the commas start to show how many mistakes you’ve made, how many mistakes it took for you to finally get it, how many apologies it took for you to be forgiven, how many I love you’s were needed for someone to feel like you loved them and not just for the sake of not being alone, how many nights you had to spend living in a dead memory of won’t you stay with me for another hour, how many oceans you had to cry before you realized people sink with you every time you damage them, how many volcanoes you became because stress makes smoking this much easier, how many pills you had to take to forget a name, how many nights you stayed high because shower thoughts brought you back to the razors, how many mornings you spent fucked up because of one fuck up, how many years you’ll toss away to find yourself, how many weeks it’ll take to rewire your brain after a breakup, how many days it’ll take to unfeel everything, how many hours it’ll take to unlove a feeling, how many seconds it’ll take to get it right, how many commas you’ll keep count of to not lose yourself tonight, and how many times you’ll leave yourself in the palms of others instead of your own. if I’m ever on my last dollar, if I’m ever on my last heartbeat, if I’m ever at the end of the line, if I ever forget about you, if I never loved you, if I ever destroyed myself to recreate myself, if I ever feel good enough to get over this depression, if I ever stop and stare into the middle of nowhere and if I never return to who I used to be– remember that this life will cut like a very thin knife into your ribs in search for another comma for another run-on sentence that should not have happened because you always loved to make mistakes without a proper ending or a period to your era of impressional impressions to impress no one in particular you can have all of my mistakes you can have all of my errors you can have all of this red ink to scribble all over this poem you can have my life and call it death to the last day when we’ll never meet again.
—  The Ate & The Bunso
You’re a drug and I’m your addict. You’re so good at stringing me along. You give me enough to keep me hooked, but never enough to make me feel complete.

-I need more.


She asked him to love her and all of her decay. She wasn’t perfect. She was a mess. Barely holding herself together as she smiled, as she stared at everyone and tended to the wounds festering others. The feeling of being alone had never stopped her from running, from taking in the whole world as she screamed and fought it with each morning cup of tea. Yet, she was tired of holding in the pain, of smiling and remaining calm despite the storms fighting within her. She yearned for someone who could hold her at the end of the day when her body wore down from the pain. She wanted someone to see her tears hidden beneath laughter and rainy days. She knew it didn’t need to be him who loved her, but it was now that she wanted that someone more than ever to be him.
—  s. francisco.; love letters lost in translation

Too many of our children are not growing up,
They’re growing in;
Instead of becoming engineers and building their future,
They are becoming mathematicians,
Counting calories on scales they can never live up to.
And what do we have to offer them but empty plates?
In open hands We feed them magazines,
Full of images of what they perceive is pretty;
Paper thin.
And they will take it,
Their five fingered forks
Filling their empty bellies with dead trees,
Hoping the branches won’t break on the way,
While we cut them down;
Another inch.
Their idols Imposters;
Neon paintings of people who never existed,
Splayed on billboards to be dissected by the masses,
Their holy guts a crucifix to beauty;
And they eat them up,
Getting stuck in their teeth,
Like wish bones that were never whole.
They’re left unfulfilled,
Starving for the next thing,
As we shove packages marked ‘fat free’
Down into their core
And preach epidemics of obesity,
But we never taught them to be full.
We teach them ribs are sexy,
So they count every one,
A notch in their belt;
Hollow cheeks and sunken eyes
That the gap in their thighs should be wide enough,
To see the girl behind them,
And send them to their Graves early;
Long before they’re dead.
Because being frail means you are a woman;
We made them women before they even knew.
We shamed their bodies with smiles on our faces,
So they wouldn’t know the difference,
And then watched them fade away
Congratulating every pound.
We need to teach them size doesn’t matter;
To wear their joy.
That they are more then three syllables,
Worth more then a 9 letter word;
That every angle and curve is perfect
Because there’s no one in the world like them.
That editing programs do not create people,
And the next time someone makes them feel less then fucking perfect,
Shove their forks in their faces
And give them something they can chew.
…there’s an epidemic

Dear soulmate,
Where are you? How much longer do I have to wait? You have no idea about all the things I have thought of for us, the love, the fights, the heartbreak, but then the patch up. The commitment. I imagine us camping out on a sandy beach with hundreds of trees and wildlife wrapping us up in a blanket of nature, as the ocean waves along the shore, almost like a calling for our love. There’ll be a campfire in front of us as the smell of burning wood disintegrates in the air and the breeze swiftly carries it west. You and I would be laying back on our towels, staring at the night sky. That night, the stars will shine for us and the moon will radiate a reunion. Then I’ll tell you all about my life, where I grew up, what I like, what I don’t like. And then you’ll tell me where you grew up, what you like and what you don’t like. We’ll exchange stories and wonder why we haven’t met earlier on, but we will be glad that we did meet, now. Then you’ll bring out your guitar and start singing a tune, I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m not expecting you to be a singer, but you’ll try and so will I. We both will get so lost in each other’s tune that we won’t even know when, or how we fell in love. That song that we were singing, well let’s just say that from then onwards, it’ll be our song. The song that can break fights, the one we dance to in the kitchen, the one that the other puts on when one of us feels low. The song that the universe smiles at every time it’s played. Right there, on that beach, we will make stories enough for a lifetime, but the only problem is, you aren’t here yet. We haven’t met yet. But hey, I hope you get this letter and that you come soon. Don’t think that I’m incredibly lonely and that this is a desperate plea for you to come along faster because right now, I am beyond happy with my life. But I don’t know, sometimes there’s this craving for someone that isn’t there, someone I haven’t met but I feel like I’ve known all along. I guess it might just be me. I’m writing this to you because I need you to hear me out, and although you don’t officially know me, I guess I’ll feel better knowing that it’s out there in the universe. Listen, I have way more planned for us than just the beach and I just have so much to tell you, till then, I’ll be waiting.

yours always

the part that complements your whole

anonymous asked:

about something you posted earlier--how do you know God is so... happy if we come to Him? Like it was so moving (I almost started crying in all honesty) but I can't comprehend God would have any positive emotion at all about my coming to him. I feel like I expect the "about time you showed up" response more than anything. Sorry if this message doesn't make sense or is ignorant. Thanks for all you do <3

Don’t be sorry. I know completely what you mean. I’ve had times where I feel like Jesus just tolerates me. But, I need to tell you. He ADORES you. The Bible, God’s-word, God-breathed, God-inspired is full of love letters and stories for us. For you. You.

I want you to read some of these and understand this it’s God, trying to communicate to you. So for a moment, it’s just for you. It’s you and Jesus. 

Luke 15:11-32. The Parable of the Lost Son. This child, comes back into his fathers home (into God’s presence) and his dad meets him and wraps his arms around him, kisses him, covers him in fine clothes, puts a ring on his finger and declares that a marvellous feast be held. When you come into God’s presence, He does the same thing. This story is about you. When you come to Jesus, he wraps His arms around you, He kisses you, He dresses you in fine silk and jewellery and He declares a feast be made in your honour. He is so happy to see you.

Zephaniah 3. This is a time in the Bible when Jerusalem was going crazy. It says they were “rebellious and defiled.” And God was sad for a while. He was disappointed and angry at them. But, God’s love is so unwavering, so powerful, so on fire that He could not be angry for long. Verse 17 says “The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you; but will rejoice over you with singing.” He delights in you. When He thinks about you, He rejoices with singing. God, the King of all finds Himself singing when you enter His presence. You, dear child. 

Matthew 8. Now, back when Jesus was walking upon the face of the earth, having leprosy was pretty much the worst thing anyone could have. People hated you if you had leprosy. Shopkeepers wouldn’t serve you, people would avoid you, mothers would cover their children’s eyes. But Jesus, so full of love and compassion, reaches out His hand and touches this man with leprosy. I can imagine people in the background gasping at the sight. But Jesus just has so much love for His children that this is not a barrier. He loves you this much. When you walk into His presence, no matter what state you’re in, He is willing and He wants to spend time with you. 

Matthew 14:22-33. I love this one. So, all the disciples see Jesus walking on the water, and Peter wants to join Him. Jesus calls Peter out and he gets out of the boat to walk on the water with Jesus. But, Peter becomes afraid and begins to sink. Now, what does Jesus do. IMMEDIATELY, He reaches out His hand and catches Him. Then, He goes on to ask why he was afraid. But, I love this because Jesus doesn’t watch Peter start to sink and tell him “just don’t doubt, you’ll be fine.” Jesus doesn’t wait for Peter to drown, learn his lesson and then pull him up and tell him what he did wrong. No. The second that Peter asks for Jesus to save him, Jesus catches him. Straight away. He loves Peter so much. He loves you this much. His heart aches when you are in pain and the second that you ask Him to save you, He IMMEDIATELY reaches out His hand to catch you. 

Jesus died for you. Jesus died for you. Jesus DIED for you. An innocent man, who deserved only good things. He watched His friends betray and deny Him. He watched as they declared they did not know Him in front of accusers. He watched a guilty man go free as the public, screaming, decided that He was of less worth than a murderer. He suffered agony by the hands of Romans; from being spat on and having thorns pierce His temples, to having His flesh ripped and shredded until His bones began to glow red. He carried a heavy cross up a hill, collapsing underneath it. He then laid down on that cross and felt the sheer sting of 3 nails skewer His bones to keep Him in place. He was lifted, naked and bloody, on display for all. Friends and family. Even His own mother. For hours He struggled to attain every breath. And then He died. He died. He experienced all that because of His love for you. He went through all of that, because He desperately wants relationship with you. Do you think that He would experience so so much, because He only feels “meh” about you. No way! He went through all of that because he utterly ADORES you. He ADMIRES you. He CHERISHES you. HE DELIGHTS in you. He TREASURES you. He is up and down CRAZY for you. He loves you. So so so so so so much. SO MUCH! Child of God, when you enter His presence, He runs toward you and cheers because He would love to spend some time with You. He died because He finds so much joy in being with you. 

He does not tolerate you. He is not an ‘about time you showed up’ kind of God. He’s an ‘I’m so glad you came. I’m overjoyed. I love you so much. I love you so much. I love you so much’ kind of God. And it’s for you. YOU. 

xx - c

i didn’t think they could shock us like that. i didn’t think that they wouldn’t spoil it, that we wouldn’t get a preview shoving that glorious wonderful moment down our throats with big capitals letters and a flashing neon sign we couldn’t ignore.

i didn’t think that they would do it - of course, we all hoped the heist was going to end up this way, but i was convinced that it was never going to happen, that it was too early, that it would happen in the 99th ep if it happened at all. i thought fucking hitchcock and scully we’re going to win tbh. i didn’t expect us to all win.

i didn’t think that they could completely just surprise us, and have it be literally the most perfect and well, them proposal and - holy shit, i literally just realised it happens in the evidence lock-up, fuck fuck fuck fuck i can’t deal

and then to have us seeing their first meeting, and seeing the exact second that jake peralta realised he wanted to marry amy santiago, and see how radiant and happy these two are.

i didn’t think they could shock us like that.

i have never been so happy to be wrong.

Imagine getting together with Chris.

A/N: Part 5 is here and I think I just died. OH MY GOD! As the writer, and as a reader- AHHHHHHHH! I’m sorry, I’m so calm right now. (No I am not, my heart) You can read the previous parts here: (Unexpected Reader - Part 1/Part 2/Part 3A/3B/Part 4A/4B) Please enjoy! X

Chris laid sprawled on his couch with furrowed brows, tapping his TV remote against his bare chest. It was 1:48AM and he had an early morning meeting tomorrow, but he was still wide awake. He couldn’t sleep because he had too much on his mind, like the fact that you were yet to read the letter he’d left- admitting his love for you- at your apartment. Since he left said letter at said apartment, with each hour that ticked by- he’d been texting your best friend asking if you’d read it. Each time, he’d get a text back from Ava telling him the same thing: “she’s not home yet.” It finally got to the ninth hour at 11:00PM that he stopped texting Ava and texted you instead, not to ask about the letter but to see if you were okay. Which brought forth the other thing that was keeping him up.

Chris had texted you to ask if you were okay, and you’d sent back a simple “perfect.” Now what was that suppose to mean? Were you perfect because your date with Sam went well? Were you perfect because you’d read his letter and was thinking about your answer? No, you couldn’t have read the letter already. You wouldn’t have just texted if you’d read it. He knew you and he knew you would’ve called if you’d read it, unless- you didn’t feel the same way, or had changed your mind about him since hearing about Scarlett and going on that date with Sam. He should’ve addressed that rumor the second it came out, talked to you about it instead of calling Scarlett and laughing about it. If he lost you because of it, it was his fault and his fault alone.

“What am I going to do, bud?” Chris asked Dodger, his best friend who was half asleep by his feet. “What am I going to do if I lose her?” Dodger looked up when Chris sat up and reached down to smooth his hand over his pup’s head. “She’s the one and I was too afraid to tell her that when I had the chance, and now-” He cut himself off with a huff, scratching Dodger’s head ever so gently. “I’m a real fucking idiot, aren’t I?”

“I’d say.”

Chris was so distracted that he didn’t even hear you come in from the back door; you’d a set of keys because he trusted you and occasionally needed you to come take care of Dodger for him. He jumped to his feet, feeling his heart in his throat. You were crying, but it was out of pure and utter joy as well as love for the man standing in front of you. His lips parted and he tried to speak, but no sound came forth. He’d play a thousand different scenarios in his head and ways to respond, but now that it was actually happening- he’d no clue what to say. He stepped over Dodger and started towards you, stopping when you took a step back. You held up the letter that you’d read four times in the cab ride over with the help of your iPhone’s torch. Each time you’d read it- you fell even harder for Chris; words you wanted to use to form a response danced in your mind. But now, as you stood in front of him, you couldn’t speak either. God, the two of you were made for each other.

“Y/N, I’m not dating Scarlett,” Chris finally spoke. Upon hearing those words leave his mouth, he wanted to slap himself. As important as that piece of information was, he wished his first words to you were “I love you.” Which was what he said next, drawing more happy tears from your eyes. “Please don’t cry,” he pleaded as he started towards you again, stopping when you held up a hand.

“I’m sorry, I just- I need a moment,” you told him and he nodded understandingly. “I um- This was-” you held up the letter, smiling. “It was a very Fan fic Chris thing to do,” you said and you both managed a light laugh. “How did you learn to write like that? Those first two paragraphs-”

“Y/N,” he cut you off, chuckling. “I don’t think we need to talk about my writing capabilities right this very second, do you?” He quizzed and you shook your head, swallowing. “You came here to tell me something,” he began as he slowly inched closer to you; step by step. “You came here to answer a question, to confess your true feelings.” You nodded slowly, feeling your heart on the verge of exploding. “So how about,” he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you towards him, “we get to that?”

“You’re not wearing a shirt,” you blurted out and grimaced at how awkward you were. Chris laughed, because how awkward you were was one of the things he loved about you. “I um…” You couldn’t believe how difficult it was to talk around a shirtless Chris; how his female co-stars managed was beyond you. His hands rubbing small, gentle circles into your sides weren’t helping your ability to speak coherently either. “Can you-” you put a hand on his chest to push him back; his heat radiated through your palm. “I just need some space so I can think.”

“I think we’ve done enough thinking, don’t you?” He returned to his original position, but this time a little closer and his grip a little tighter. “I’m done thinking and so are you,” he whispered as he dipped his head. With his lips inches from yours, his minty breath warm against your cheeks. “Do you love me?” He asked gently and you felt yourself nod as you got lost in his eyes; he smiled so wide, his pearly whites blinded you. “Do you want to kiss me?” He asked and got another breathless nod from you. “Good, because I love you and I want to kiss you too.”

The second his lips touched yours, everything fell into place. You realized that saying was a cliché you’d used many times before, in a quite a few of your stories, but not once had you truly understood or felt what you wrote. Not until now, not until you had Chris’ soft and supple lips pressed against yours. It was insane how good and how right it felt, and how many more clichés played through your mind. “He kissed you like your lips were the air that he needed to breathe”, and “he kissed you like there was no tomorrow”, and “his lips touched yours and sparks flew.” In that very moment, as his hands gently caressed your face while his lips worked against yours tenderly, attentively, and passionately- you lived through every romantic, breathtaking kiss scene you’d ever written. It felt like pure and utter magic- and yes, you realized that was yet another cliché but God, you didn’t care. You were happy because you were kissing the one you could, and had pictured forever with.

“Fuck,” Chris breathed when he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “Sorry,” he chuckled breathlessly and you shook your head, smiling. You could feel how flaming hot your cheeks were, as well as how wide your smile was; it was wider than it’d ever been. “I don’t mean to swear in your face, I just- that was fucking amazing. I mean- Fuck,” he cussed again, laughing. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

“Why don’t you do it again?” Your arms wrapped around his neck as you inched closer to his lips.

You didn’t have to ask him twice; he chuckled and kissed you again, moaning ever so softly when your hands found their way into his un-gelled hair. Now you weren’t a girl he wanted to rush things with because he respected you, but he was so swept up- in the passion, and the romance, and the very obvious lust in the air- that he couldn’t help himself. His hands reached under your thighs and he swiftly lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You knew what was happening and what would happen if you let it, and though you always promised your mom you wouldn’t rush into things- this was Chris and she’d always wished you’d end up with him after reading your series. Now that the opportunity had arise, surely she wouldn’t blame you for taking things a little faster than usual. It wasn’t like he was going to run out on you, the letter made it pretty damn clear he was here to stay.

He broke the kiss and smiled, carrying you as he started towards the stairs. He didn’t know who to thank for you, just every thread in the universe that brought the two of you together. You did the same thing, brushing his bearded cheek with your thumb.

“Does Ava know you’re not going to be there when she wakes up?” That question was his subtle was of asking for consent; he wouldn’t and couldn’t do anything you were uncomfortable with. He knew the hold he had on you, but he’d never use it to his advantage. Similarly, you knew the hold you had on him and you’d never use that to your advantage either.

“I think Ava will figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Chris bit back his growing smile, “I think she will too.”

Tags: @chrisevans-imagines @widowsfics @m-a-t-91 @xoxomioxoxo @imaginesofdreams @ateliefloresdaprimavera @katiew1973 @winter-tospring @shamvictoria11 @caitsymichelle13 @michellekeehlmello @letterstomyself21 @soymikael @faye22 @always-an-evans-addict @sammyrenae68 @brobrobreja @elizabeth-matsuoka @thegirlwiththeimpala @camerica96 @all-of-the-above11  @whenyourealizethisisntagoodname @yourtropegirl @smoothdogsgirl @createdbytinyaddiction @siofrataylor @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @imaginary-world-of-mine @wanderingkat77 @grantward3 @rileyloves5 @chrsmom302 @buckys-shield @mylittlefandomfanfictions @breezykpop @catch-me-im-a-falling-star @tabi-toast @ssweet-empowerment @hayleesteashoppe @chrixa @feelmyroarrrr @akidura79 @louisespecter @castellandiangelo @ccrossfire @assxmblesstuff @edward-lover18 @princessesnaddy @1d-niallerbieberforever @dxbrevgrey @bellastellaluna @christopher-or-steven @brokenwingsxix @yourenotrogers @im-a-fandom-slut @royalexperiment256 @palaiasaurus64 @mysteriouslyme81 @captainumeboshi @avengingalec @tacohead13 (Inbox me if you’d like to be added to the tag list)

Tags for those who didn’t ask, but follow the series (I know you didn’t ask, but I don’t want you to miss this part. I’m annoying, I know) @advorepayne @heyitsthatlouisdork @pegasusdragontiger @evanstanimagines


For those who don’t know, last year, my friend made a book with about 100 pages that consisted of fan letters and fan art dedicated to the boys. Shocking enough, we didn’t expect SO MANY people to participate in our small project. It made us extremely happy to receive so many letters filled with heartfelt words to be delivered to Bangtan. Because of this, we decided to create another fan book so more can participate! And yes, our last book was safely delivered to BIGHIT.

We just care about sharing the love from international ARMYS, so we’re continuing to make this project free and decided to cover the expenses ourselves knowing not everyone has money. All we need is your support, so please join! Please share! Thank you so much for loving and supporting Bangtan. ♥



(updated as well as date and word limit listed in picture)


Kas’ tumblr: jhope-shi [x]
instagram: jhobies [x]

When sending your letter, set your title as “BTS LETTER PROJECT” so it makes it easier for us to organize everything. Also, I will be updating here on tumblr of any changes or updates to the project.

Our last night || soulmate!AU Pt.1

“What’s the difference between the love of your life and a soulmate?” I asked.

“One is a choice, and one is not”

Word Count: 7.5k
Genre: Angst | Fluff | Romance | Smut
Pairing: Reader(She) x Jungkook 
Triggers: Depression, Mention of suicide, lots of angst tbh, Mature content, Cussing.
Gif: AngustD©GIFs

⇻ Playlist   (Playlist Cover thanks to @basicallyadragon  ♡)

A/N: Much cry while making this…
Hope you guys like it! thanks for reading! and thanks for 400 followers!! <3
constructive feedback is always appreciated :)



—first 24 hours—

“This love was so pure it would smolder within their hearts for all eternity”

That one, single line from the book made your heart hurt. Is that the word? hurt? or…Is it something else entirely.
It pained.
That, you are sure about.
There is just something about it, that that made you go over it once again…not analyzing, just letting it sink in, let your mind absorb it, let your body absorb it, let your soul absorb it.
The book remains open on that one page; your eyes hovering above each letter and word for a long time.
What did it mean? How can a love smolder you? is that even possible? How can it be eternal?.
The more these silent questions spread through your thoughts, the more you feel confused, the more you feel empty; but at the same time, you somehow understand exactly what they mean.
You need someone to talk about this.
You read over the phrase once more:

 “This love was so pure it would smolder within their hearts for all eternity”

Without realizing, pools of tears flood your eyesight, trying to blink them away the big drops drip down your cheeks. A face on the back of your mind appears.
His dark and messy hair.
His big gentle eyes.
His goofy smile.

“Jungkook” a giggle joins the streams of water rolling down your eyes, while saying his name out-loud, making you realize you aren’t sad; In fact, you are desperate to see him again, to hug him and kiss him -just like you did every time you are together.
Putting the book down, you grab the cell phone on the nightstand, ignoring the piece of white paper, standing out because of the sapphire blue seal on the front, and tap over his name on the contact list.
-the dial tone causing you anxiety and a pang on your chest.
It is the first time you felt like this, so frantic and in a haste about phoning him.

Unwillingly, your eyes travel to the night stand once again, landing over the closed envelope with the blue sigil.
You knew this day might arrive.
Since the very beginning.

Keep reading

I left you because I couldn’t handle it anymore- the empty eyes, the blank expressions, the way you talk about everything like it’s nothing. I’d never felt more alone than I did when I was with you. You thought I left out of boredom? I left out of loneliness. I needed someone to love me, and you never could.
—  my favorite message from you
rainbow (2017) by kesha: some feelings
  1. bastards: i adore this hopeful and determined opening track. starting bare, swelling into beautiful harmonies, you tear up within three minutes of putting this album on.
  2. let em talk: “do whatever makes you happy and screw everything else if you ask me” is maybe all that needs to be said. the sentiment that life is too short is already a recurring theme on the album, but this time in the context of pure carefree fun. i love kesha.
  4. hymn: saved my soul!!!!!! life affirming af!!! another of the recurring themes appear: i’m perfect even though i’m fucked up. more tears, but like happy tears. who we are is no mistake.
  5. praying: do i need to say anything. cathartic tears for this one.
  6. learn to let go: yet ANOTHER life affirming fuvking jam!!! my girl :’))) triumphant tears in my eyes tbh
  7. finding you: SHE HITS WITH A LOVE SONG. SHE. DOES. THIS. i’m gonna overuse this word but it’s beautiful, there’s no other way to put it. 
  8. rainbow: crying tears. in her letters she talks about being allowed a keyboard one hour a day in rehab and playing this song over and over and crying and i’m getting goosebumps just typing this up. WHAT’S LEFT OF MY HEART’S STILL MADE OF GOLD. another track that starts bare and builds up in an emotional crescendo. her abilities as a vocalist are really coming through on this whole album but i love her singing in this song the most of all.
  9. hunt you down: country jam warning the bf you’re gonna kill him if he cheats. fantastic, awesome, love it. 
  10. boogie feet: another party track! yay! 
  11. boots: pixie loves love. 
  12. old flames (can’t hold a candle to you): FEATURING DOLLY PARTON!!!!! ICONIC!!!!!! i love the genre mix on this album!!! you have the acoustic vibes, the rock vibes, the country vibes, the grandiose pop vibes… i love it all. anyway this song is, you know what i’m gonna say again, beautiful.
  13. godzilla: the cutest weird love song.
  14. spaceship: nothing is real, love is everything, and i know nothing. kesha knows she’s too good for this world and is waiting for her spaceship to take her home. fair. 

in general, this album shows that kesha is a musical genius capable of anything, but the emotional content elevates it imo. it feels honest and healing. healing here includes pure fun, reminding both her and me as a listener that despite the fact that you’ve been through awful shit, you’re still allowed to and capable of feeling joy. we’re perfect even though we’re fucked up. we can love again. we can bring ourselves from a bad past into a fun present and a hopeful future.

A Brief Analysis of A. Hamilton’s Personal Correspondence

So I have now spent some time briefly going over some correspondences between Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens, Eliza Hamilton, and Angelica Church. I have done this to get an overview of the differences in H’s behaviour when writing to different people and once and for all debunk a possible relationship between H and mrs Church. I will go over his writing habits to each person individualy. Starting with Eliza.

So when H writes to Eliza he is often very frank and keeps it pretty short. He doesn’t often talk about work matters and the common theme in their correspondences is health. “I hope you’re well, I hope the children are alright, I am feeling ill but I’m fine don’t worry” those sort of things. He often says that he misses her, the children and their extened family but there is very little sexual talk. The raunchiest stuff I can find is from very early correspondence from the first year of their marrige, those letters are also a bit longer. It’s not that the later letters are cold, he is very warm and expresses much love and concern, but they aren’t really bedroom related so to say and he always keeps it short and clean. He uses a lot of nicknames when refering to Eliza, my favorites being “my angel”, “my love” and “my beloved”.

When H writes to Angelica it’s pretty different. Still not very long letters but they are longer than most of the ones for Eliza. This is most likely due to the longer distance and infrequency in correspondence. There is a surprising amount of inside jokes and references. Some of the letters doesn’t even make much sense due to this. Those references might be sexual but I highly doubt it. He mentions other people a lot, Eliza being mentioned in almost every letter. And not only as a goodbye note like “Eliza sends her love” but in the middle of the letter too. He says that he misses Angelica a lot and talks about how he and Eliza would like to go to Europe one day since it’s unlikely that Angelica will make her way back. (It’s always ”Eliza and I” and he often says that the love for Angelica is much shared between him and his wife) There is occasionally some gossip about what’s going on in town, and he talks about his job and politics much more with Angelica than he does with Eliza. Again, most likely due to the long distance. He calls her “my dear sister” and “my dear friend” other than “Angelica” and “Mrs Church”. He is also keen to send his love to mr Church, Angelica’s husband.

His letters to Laurens stand out the most. They are really long and often divided into two or three sections. The first one is dedicated to acknowledging previous correspondence, the second to military events and advice, the third to personal matters. He is very open about his feelings, in a way that he isn’t in letters to Eliza or Angelica. A few of the letters, the most famous ones, are the only ones expressing anything sexual. The others are more about general love, affection and worry. He wants to make sure that Laurens is safe, that he knows that he is loved and so on. He has nicknames for Laurens too, most of them varriations of “my dear” but he also calls him “Jack” a few times. 

My conclution is this. There is a clear difference between Hamilton’s correspondence to the three people he was closest to. In his letters to all three of them he mentions some kind of love. This love seems to be different depending on who he is writing to. He feels strongly for Eliza and judging by his choice of words and nicknames this love is romantic. He likes to keep correspondence short and clean, possibly preferring to have more personal conversations face to face at home. Thanks to being relativly near each other, sending and recieving letters doesn’t take much time, which means one can keep the letters shorter and send more of them. It is also peace time so it’s not so pressing to express ones more intimate feelings and needs. In contrast we have Angelica. Hamilton feels strongly for her too but these strong feelings are shared with Eliza. There are only two possibilities here, either the feelings are romantic but then Eliza feels romantically for her sister too, or they are platonic of the sibling varriant, which in this case seems more likely. The letters to Angelica are longer because of the fact that it takes longer time to send and recieve letters so more information has to be packed in there. Hamilton feels strongly about Laurens as well, and judging from wording those feelings are romantic. They are also, in contrast to letters to Eliza, much more intimate, this most likely due to the pressure from a looming war. If you don’t know when or if you are going to see each other again it’s more important to really say all you want to say before it’s too late.

There is much more to say about the correspondence between H and Laurens but I don’t have the time or space to go into it right now. The main focus being to compare how H writes to different people and debunk any possible romantic relationship between him and Angelica Church.

Professor Scamander and the Slytherin Prefect



Tags: @notgreengrass @just-another-teen01 @apareciumimagines @rebeccamaximoff @deaths-maiden @percivalcraves @samantha24015 @pharaohkiller @fckingstorytime @retardedhumanhere @chloevvasquez @fortisfiliae @rose4958 @jackdawsonsgrl @johnmurphys-sass (sorry for those who I couldn’t get tags working for)

A/n: this is a rlly Credence heavy chapter but there’ll be heaps of Newt next one!! Also Smut next chapter so get ready ;)
P.S. I think I’ll do the spinoff chapter with no correlation to the real story soon (AKA the dream sequence threesome lol)

Keep reading

Sansa and Jon: Why?

So, yesterday I made a post, meta, what have you about Jon/Dany, and why I personally don’t think they’ll be together. Now, I’m doing Sansa and Jon.

It’s no secret that I’m a Jonsa shipper. As I said in my previous meta before season 6 came out, I honestly wasn’t a huge fan of Jon’s storyline. It had kinda flat-lined for me, for a little bit. Then Hardhome happened, and I grew interested again. 

Anyway. Before season 6 I didn’t even give Jon/Sansa a second thought. It was ridiculous. They had never spoken. They had no type of relationship (book and show.)

So, why these two? Well, let’s go over a couple of things. Jon and Sansa compliment each other rather well. Sansa is not a warrior, she’s not Ygritte, she’s no Val. But, in the books, it really dug into Jon’s wishes to what he wanted for his future. And it didn’t include fighting. It included having children that looked like his siblings. He lusts after Val, he does not love her. It’s as if he’s projecting what he wants onto her. But he knows he won’t get it. Sansa, in the books wants to return to Winterfell, as Jon does. She also wants to have children that look like her siblings. Weird? Not only that but their many parallels. Sansa started off as a lady, then a bastard. Jon started off a bastard, then a lord. Now a prince. 

Show wise: Their scenes in season 6 are not platonic. The way that they’re shot, the way that they’re acted, (mostly Kit). He looks at her a lot of the time, stares at her really. As if he’s trying to figure out who she is. Because guess what, they never had any kind of relationship with each other. They really don’t know how to act around the other. Like…hmmm…strangers I’d say. Anyway, the scenes. Let’s bullet the scenes here that questionable eye contact, physical contact happened….

1.) Meeting Jon again. (The hug was heart warming, just the point of the fact that two Starks had actually met again brought tears to my eyes.) But Jon, immediately recognizing her bunched up his hand, and moved back. As if he was hit with a force that shoved him backwards. He couldn’t believe it was her! Anyway, this scene itself doesn’t really (to me) have any romantic undertones. Moving on…

2.) After hug scene: Jon and Sansa are sitting in Castle black, sitting in front of a fire. Sansa’s sipping soup and Jon is staring at her. Like, he’s trying to figure her out. Since he has no relationship with Sansa, he doesn’t really know what to say. And he does stare at her, he definitely has a foreign emotions in his features that I can’t quite place in this scene. But then, after, they start to banter back and forth about Winterfell, and Sansa asks him to forgive her. He does, and they laugh. Then, she proceeds to ask for his ale, and he looks at her, in a humorous way. She drinks the ale, then chokes, and he laughs. That is a flirtatious action. See, a brotherly reaction would be…

“Ha. Knew you wouldn’t be able to drink it. This stuff’s terrible.” Or something like that. 

3.)Assembling the North scene: Now, this scene confuses me. 100% Jon stares at her a lot of this scene, but he doesn’t do it in a flirtatious way, he does it in a ‘learning her’ way. He’s trying to understand what she means, and what she wants. Then, when Davos is starting to put down her plans, he starts to get almost agitated, not at Sansa, but at Davos. He cuts in when Davos is done talking to her, telling him there’s more then three houses in the North, there’s two dozen more. Then the part where Sansa says that she has the Stark name. Jon looks at her, then Edd looks at him. Jon looked stunned at what she said. Ed looked at Jon in question. The whole scene is very confusing. I didn’t get it. 

4.)Cloak scene!: Jon approaches Sansa, asking her about her new dress. Now, I don’t know about you, but my husband told me  he NEVER notices what his sister is wearing. Sansa then proceeds to ask if he likes it, blushing slightly, smiling a little bit. Jon proceeds to stammer and say, “I like the wolf bit.” Lol, awkward, and definitely not a brotherly type of reaction. It was more flirting, but in a subtle way. 

Pause! Now, I just wanted to note that in every scene with Jon and Sansa, Sansa is always in the frame. Whether it be where Jon is talking to the Wildlings, where Sansa is present, or when they’re speaking to the houses. Sansa is always in frame with him. It could mean nothing, it could mean something. All I know is NOTHING ever means nothing. Let’s take a look at an example: In season 6, Cersei goes to talk to Lady Olenna, being rather…sweet and understanding with her. Well, at this time, we had no idea what her plan with the wildfire was. To us, Cersei was trying to get back in Olenna’s good graces, and giving her hope in having her grandchildren back. Cersei tries to talk her into staying. And she does this because she wanted her to be in the Sept of Baelor when it blew up. Killing Lady Olenna. 

A nothing scene is always something. 

5.)Wildling scene: There’s not much that happens here. But we do get to see the reactions of Sansa when Jon’s talking to the Wildling lords. She seems rather…okay with the Wildlings. She isn’t turning her nose up. And make note, Sansa is always standing behind Jon. When they’re talking to the wildlings, when they talk to Lyanna, and when they talk to Glover. She only talks when he gives her the “Oh shit, save me,” look. Such as the one he gave her when they met Lyanna. See..that’s another thing. With just a look, Jon can tell Sansa many things. They don’t need words. Which is awesome!

6.)Lyanna scene: They fed off each other’s silence. Jon knew when he needed to step in and Sansa knew when she needed to step in. It’s the unspoken thing they have with each other. It speaks volumes.

7.)Letter scene: Oh, I love this scene! I love it because Sansa really gets under Jon’s skin. And guess who else did that? Ygritte! She challenged him. And Sansa does that for Jon. She’s pushing him to gather more men, and the look of aggravation on his features says many things. One, he might strangle her. Two, oh seven give me strength. Lol, anyway. This scene showed that Sansa does push him, she pushes him to not give up, and to keep trying, keep looking. 

8.) Damnit, I forgot a scene. This one is the hand holding scene! Okay, so after the pink letter is read, Jon looks pretty downtrodden. Sansa pushes him to fight, reaching out and grabbing his hand. Now, this scene was panned in on. Which…if it was meant as a manipulative move on Sansa’s part, I don’t think they would have shown it. Then, when she grabs his fingers, he grabs hers as well, squeezing her fingers. I loved this part.

9.)Glover scene: Also not in order. Oops! Now, this one is important in many ways. One, I thinks it’s a little bit of a foreshadow about the ‘foreign whore’ thing Lord Glover said, in reference to Robb, and I think it could also apply to Jon, if he decided to randomly fall in love with Dany after two episodes. Anyway, they’re talking, and Sansa doesn’t step in until Glover is leaving. Well, he lays into her, letting her know that Robb fucked up. Well, if you watch closely, Jon turns his body towards Sansa and Glover as they’re talking. He’s stiff…he’s ready, just encase Glover wants to overstep his bounds. Jon was on alert, but  he was also paying attention to what Glover had said about Robb. Good! Hope he takes that to heart.

10.) Ramsay scene: Jons death glare. When Ramsay said he couldn’t wait to have Sansa back in his bed, Jon gave him a withering look. And they panned in on his features. To me, if it wasn’t meant to matter, they would have just expanded the scene to include Jon, and the people behind him. He also, at the beginning, offers a duel to Ramsay. Which, I guess could mean anything…?

11.) Tent scene: They argue, they yell at each other. And the candle lighting made me give it a side-eye. Yes, it’s true that Robb and Cat argued, but when they did, they were not in each others faces. They were sitting down, or standing up, yelling almost across the room at each other. Sansa and Jon closed the space in between them, and proceeded to argue…and PANT, might I add. Then, after the arguing, Jon promises to never let Ramsay touch her again. Also, not a brotherly vow. A brotherly vow would have been…

“I swear Sansa, I won’t let him hurt you again.” But no…the sentence was drug out, giving meaning behind every syllable Jon uttered, and the emotions in his eyes spoken volumes as well.

12.) Jon beating Ramsay: Jon goes crazy, unleashing the beast on Ramsay, beating him to death…then, Sansa’s there. Jon looks up, see’s her, and stops punching Ramsay. Now, we could say that he did this because Ramsay was Sansa’s to finish. But, I also think it’s because Jon did not want Sansa to see him that way. But, it also shows that Sansa brought him back from the darkness, with just her presence. Which…is what Cat did for Ned when he was strangling Littlefinger against the brothel. There is also that pause after they’re stopped. Ned is staring at Cat, Jon is staring at Sansa, then they look at their victims and let them go. 

13.) Forehead kiss!!!! it starts off with Sansa showing up, and Jon telling her she should have the Lord’s chambers. Which is a WEIRD thing for the siblings (cousins) to talk about. She proceeds to tell him he’s a Stark to her. And he smiles. Then, she apologizes to him about the KOTV. He stares ahead, then walks over to her, telling her they need to trust each other. Then, he proceeds to lean in and gently touch the side of her head, pulling her head forwards to place a gentle…yet long…kiss on her forehead. After he pulls back, he stares into her eyes for a good 3 seconds, then, stares at her lips before he comes back to himself and pulls away. Now, my thing is…Jon looks uncomfortable after this interaction, he’s walking away from her. And the only reason why he stops is because Sansa tells him Winter is here. After a little bit of flirting with their house words, Jon drops eye contact with her, turning away, and stiffly leaving. 

Ugh! Done! Anyway…I loved all of their scenes together, and some did definitely scream fishy. Or, that’s so not how a brother would kiss their sister. It would be weeeeeird.

Arya’s feelings towards this couple: It’s not secret that Arya and Jon are close…but me personally, I think Arya is going to meet her end…and I say this because if you look at the parallels between Arya and Lyanna, it’s really…eerie. To me these are the parallels…







Rickon- No answer to that one.

I definitely think history is repeating itself, it just won’t play out exactly how it did before. Anway, Arya’s storyline isn’t going to end with a marriage and children. To me, she’s going to die completing her list. Ever since Ned died, which was really when the series began, Arya has been going down a dark path. A path of vengeance…and justice, in her eyes. This path is going to be completed when she’s completed…when her list is completed. 

“Hates a good enough reason to keep going.” The hound says this to Arya in season 4?

Jon and Sansa would make a compelling couple. To me personally, something really big is going to happen to Bran, and he’s going to be called, or taken away from Winterfell. Maybe the new Knight King? That would explain the Benjen parallel, Benjen was a Knights watch man. He got lost beyond the wall. Which Bran did!

I think the last two standing will be Jon and Sansa. Like Ned and Cat were in rebuilding and restarting the Stark line basically. Not only that but the Ned and Cat parallels are constantly being shoved in our faces.

Example: Jon’s hair. Why did it need to be changed to look like Ned’s? Melisandre could have easily just taken his beard hair, as it showed during his resurrection. Why was that necessary?

Sansa is always being compared to Catelyn, not only in looks but in personality as well. Looks, willfulness, and definitely her hair, are Cat 2.0. Jon’s personality, looks, and his hair are Ned 2.0.

So…I am now done with my little meta/rant/example/break down thing…if you’d like to add anything…go ahead.

It's Over - Peter Parker

A/N: I tried not to make this super angsty or sad because I’m not gonna write a part 2. I almost cried at the end ngl, but I hope y’all enjoy and please request! (Forgive any grammatical errors, also I’m posting from mobile so excuse the mess!!)

Warnings: Language because I’m edgy

Word Count: 1457

Request: hey sis, can u do a real angsty fic with that one quote that’s like “please, please, i’ll do anything just talk to me”?? btw love your blog it’s lit as hell

I tried my best to stick to the request I actually had some trouble writing it whoops.


The sky was grey today, and it was a constant rain. You believed it to be fitting for how you felt on this very day.

It was a monday, which was unbelievably not the worst part about the day. It was the fact you had to break up with your boyfriend. You clutched your books closely to your chest as you slowly approached his locker. He was there as he always was early in the morning, taking his books out for Spanish.

“Peter.” You said quietly behind him. He turned around quickly and gave you smile.

“Hey Y/N!” Peter gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, causing your heart to melt. For a second, you pondered about staying with him. You snapped out if it remembered what you had to do.

“We need to talk, Pete.” You tucked your hair behind your ears, and readjusted your books.

“If it’s about my sweater -which I know you stole- you can keep it, I never wore it much and I like it on you.”

Your heartached in your chest because you really did love this boy, but you had hammered it into your head this was for the best. “Well, yes I took that, but this is something else…” Peter’s faced was concerned as he heard the seriousness in your voice. “I don’t think… I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

A heartbroken look washed over his face. “What? B-but I love you, Y/N-”

“Goodbye, Peter.” You quickly exited the hall, trying to escape him before he could see the tears pour out from you.

The rest of the day you managed somehow to avoid him, and you were thankful because your heart wouldn’t be ready for that.

After the bell had rung to declare school was out, you had to leave as soon as possible. You heard him calling your name far behind you, so you sped up and blocked him out as best as you could.


When you got home, you ran straight to your home, and allowed yourself to collapse to the floor. Once that first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Your lungs rummaged for oxygen, and your sobbing had the same force of someone drowning. Your cheeks burned, and when thought of memories of him, the tears just continued.

You tried to be angry at something or someone, but you only could be angry at yourself; you were the one to end your relationship. You loved him so much, you did, which is why you had to end it.

You made him weak, you made him vulnerable, and in order for him to protect himself, he had to be the strongest he could be. You knew if he had to choose the lives of ten people over yours, he’d save you.

Peter needed to focus, too. He had so much going on in his life as Spider-Man and with all of his classes, so he didn’t need a relationship to feel obligated to.

You told yourself you were doing the right thing, and that it was out of your love for him, but the hole in your heart proved otherwise.

The sky had darkened from grey to black, and you hadn’t realized it until you finally got up. You turned a light on finally and blinked from the brightness. Your eyes were puffy, your face blotchy, and your nose red. You cried enough tears to see your own reflection in them. You really miss him.

You were thinking back to a time when you were so in love with Peter… only causing your heart to ache and a lump to form in your throat. You felt like you ruined the only good thing in your life…

There was a tap on your window, and you jumped. You heart skipped a beat, because you only knew one person who could climb up three stories. You pretty much ran over to the window, and pushed the curtains to the side.

The only thing that was between you and Peter was the glass, but you weren’t gonna open it. The last thing you needed was to talk to him. You slowly began to close the curtains back up when you heard him yell, “Please, please, I’ll do anything… Just talk to me Y/N!”

You sighed and thought about it for a moment, but your heart got the best of you, and you opened the window for Peter.

“What do you want?” Your voice cracked. Peter hopped inside and took off his red spider-man mask.

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Come on Y/N, you know what.”

You shook your head and turned away, looking at the floor. “It’s just better this way.”

“How is it fucking ‘better this way’?” He said with air quotes. “Obviously this is tearing you up inside too, I can see it all over your face.” Peter mumbled.
“Just do me a favor: Please leave and stay gone.” You said. You could feel his heartbreak just as yours was, and you instantly regretted the words after they left your mouth.

“I’m not leaving without a reason.”

“Fine, you want a reason? Maybe I fell out of love with you, o-or maybe, just maybe we’re not meant to be together Peter.” Those were both false, you were deeply in love with him, and in your heart, you knew you were meant to be.

“I know you’re lying, Y/N. What’s the real reason?” He said softly. You hated how he understood you so well, but you also loved it so much.

“I make you weak.” You sighed out. “I know that if you had to save me or someone else, you’d save me. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be the reason someone died, and I don’t think you do either. Y-you need this time to focus on school and being a hero, not being distracted by some dumb relationship.”

“Y/N don’t say that, I know you-”

“I mean it Peter, and no matter how much I love you, I won’t change my mind.”

You held him close one last time. “I’ll miss you Peter… I’ll miss so much about you.” You pulled away, and walked over to your desk. You picked up a nicely folded paper, and handed it to him. “I wrote this for you… I mean I never expected you to read it, but since we got to say our goodbyes I want you to.”

“It doesn’t have to end Y/N, we can keep it a secret or-”

“I don’t want it to be a secret. It’s not worth it, Peter.”

“True love is worth everything.”

Tears pooled at your eyes for the millionth time today, but they felt different in this moment.

He cupped your face in his hands, and gave you one last kiss.

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

“I love you, too, Y/N Y/L/N.” Peter put his mask back on and stood on your window sill. He turned around to face you and said, “I’ll be back for you one day, as long as you wait for me.” And with that, he took off into the cold and crisp air of Queens. You stood there in your baggy sweater, looking out your window with nothing in your heart but love for Peter Parker.


Spider-Man sat on the ledge of a tall building, and opened a small piece of paper. He immediately noticed the tear stains, and he felt his heart yearn for you. His eyes continued down the letter:

Dear Peter,

This is not what neither of us want nor deserve, but I feel it needs to be done. I love you more than words could ever say, and wow does this suck. I’m drowning in the idea of ever being without you. It hurts terribly to be without you…

I’ll miss everything about you, Parker. I’ll miss your stupid science jokes, your amazing smelling sweaters (I’m not giving yours back by the way), your love of Star Wars, your romantic gestures, the way you bite your lip when your nervous, the way your face gets when you’re jealous… And your smile, God. Nothing has ever made me happier. You complete me.

There’s no part of me that could ever hate you, no matter what you do. We’ll be on different sides of the road from now on, but I’ll still hold a place for you in my heart.

And here’s the part that fucking hurts the most: I can’t talk to you anymore, I can’t see you, I can’t even think of you. If I do, I know I’ll come running back, and I can’t do that. If I see you, my heart will break, but I’ll be smiling because I truly do love you.

All the love in the word,