well it could be better

flower cloak.

i say “i’m seeing a therapist” and he takes a step backwards. why he wants to know. what happened. what made me like this, basically. what was the final step that pushed me safely into the side of scary people like them.

there’s a lot i think about. like how my illnesses effect me outside of the actual symptoms. like beyond the weight there’s a second river to drown in.

i mean we don’t talk about having to stare at employment papers where they ask you to self-identify your problems. that little bead of sweat that forms when you worry - what if i don’t tell them and i need help? what if i tell them and they think i’m a risk factor? what if they won’t give me the job?

we don’t talk about the way some people act when they find out. the ones who are rude about it are one thing. but then there’s those people you thought were your friends who act like you just told them you’re infectious. who become weird and distant and suspicious like a switch flipped. like if they get to close to you, you’ll give it to them.

we learn to be okay with things we overhear on the bus but we never get used to it coming out of the mouth of the people we love. we carry this secret with us like a rotted fruit, clutching it to our bodies. we’re ashamed of our scars in front of our boss. we don’t talk about our panic attacks during lunch breaks. when the cop pulls you over “i’m disassociating” isn’t an excuse we can open the page on. when you watch people make these ranting posts about how real friends always text back, how if someone loves you, they’ll find the time to spend. success stories make other people cry with inspiration while some part of your brain is saying you can’t do that, you’re not like them. things are uglier at the bottom. you can’t explain why you can’t just make friends. you can’t write because you’re depressed but when you’re depressed you write best. you can’t eat today and no don’t ask why please. nevermind taking the train. never mind trying to be happy. never mind reading books and watching movies and wondering where exactly are people like you in hero stories. i watch a video where a man tells me that being depressed is just a mindset. when i wear all black someone remarks i look particularly emo today. it’s 2017 does anyone say emo anymore, i ask her, and she laughs, “you just look like one of those fake-depressed girls.” okay.  

i don’t tell him my therapist is actually why things don’t happen anymore. why i’m getting a handle on it. my tongue feels swollen. i feel embarrassed talking about it. in the highest twist of irony, i think of how many people know my problems anonymously on the internet. i almost spill out all my troubles onto him. instead i tell him it’s just a precaution. that i think everyone should really see a therapist, they’re brain mechanics and we all need a tune-up now and then. he relaxes.

okay. okay. i’m sorry i’m one of them.

shipping your own OCs

shipping one of your OCs with 4 other OCs and not knowing which pair should be canon

10

I will say, hands are some of the hardest things to grasp when learning how to draw! Even people who have been drawing for years can be intimidated by these lil appendages! My methods for drawing them might be a bit weird, but I’m happy to share some of the things I try and keep in mind while trying to capture the essence of The Hand

I hope some people can find this useful! I could probably have gone on and on about drawing hands in this post but it’s already long enough-

Sheriff Knows Best

Stiles/Derek, G, 2K words, Sheriff POV, Coffeeshop AU, matchmaker!Sheriff

(Credit for the title to @cobrilee!)

This is an expansion of the following idea, written by the lovely @artemis69:

the coffee!AU, where John goes to the same coffee shop every day, and there is this very grumpy, quiet barista that always makes him amazing coffee and keep the best pastries for him. And one day the Sheriff learns that Derek is the one to bake them all, so he decides: this will be my son in law, I need a reason to have this man in my family for at least forty to fifty years. Then he matchmakes with no subtility whatsoever, basically offering his only son on a silver plate, Stiles spluttering all the way (but he takes Derek’s number anyway because the guy is just amazingly cute)

John’s on his regular morning stroll when he stops in his tracks and takes in the brand-new coffee shop, complete with a banner advertising their opening day. The little corner space has been boarded up for over a year, and John had no idea it was opening today.

Any new businesses are a boon for Beacon Hills, especially family-run ones like this one is rumored to be, so John ducks inside. It’s warm and homey, and there’s a pair of young dark-haired people behind the counter, close enough in features that they’re probably siblings. The quiet bickering points that direction, too.

They stop, though, when they see the Sheriff—the uniform tends to have that effect—and he pastes on his public servant smile. “Hi there. I saw this place was open and wanted to come on in and introduce myself. Sheriff John Stilinski.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” the woman says, holding out her hand for a shake. A nice strong grip—John likes this girl already. “I’m Laura Hale, and I own this place with my brother Derek, our resident grumpy barista-slash-baker.”

Derek rolls his eyes at Laura, but his smile to John is genuine, if small. “Hi, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, son,” he says, perusing the case full of tempting sugary treats. “You made these?”

He nods. “Can I get you anything?”

John hums. “A medium coffee, and…any one of these delicious-looking goodies. You pick. Just don’t tell my son,” he adds, and Derek looks up at him.

“Your son?”

“I have slightly elevated cholesterol,” he says, stressing the word. “Nothing to worry about, honestly. But he polices my diet. I don’t think he knows about this place yet, though, so this is great.”

Derek hums. His tongs hover over a muffin—lemon poppyseed, it looks like—before moving to another one. Raspberry-almond, according to the sign, and well, John isn’t picky. Derek drops it into a little bag and hands it over.

“Happy to help,” he says.

John thanks him and opens the bag. Laura’s still pouring his coffee, but it smells so damn good that he can’t resist.

“Wow,” he says, his mouth full. “This is delicious.”

Derek looks quietly proud, and Laura claps him on the shoulder as she reaches over to hand John his coffee. “On the house, today, Sheriff,” she says. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.


“Thanks, Nina,” John says dryly, leaning back so she can put his plate in front of him.

“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” she says with a friendly smile, ignoring his stink eye.

Stiles just grins at both of them and digs into his French toast. He insists on having their weekly father-son breakfast at Paulie’s Diner because no matter what John orders, Nina will only bring him an egg-white omelet with a dry English muffin. Stiles must have some serious blackmail or be paying her off somehow, and John is, he has to admit, grudgingly impressed.

“Don’t look so bummed out, Pops,” Stiles says, around a mouthful of what’s surely syrup-drenched deliciousness. “At least I let you have turkey bacon.”

“It’s not the same,” he says grumpily, poking at it. “But at least I’m getting a steady stream of baked goods now.”

Stiles glares at him. “Are you serious? From where? I thought I had paid everyone off.”

He knew it. “I’m not telling you,” he says, a little displeased with how childish he sounds.

“Fine,” Stiles says, sniffing. “I’ll figure it out, you know I will.”

He will, John knows. Goddamn, he loves his kid, even if his life goal seems to be depriving John from any and all delicious food. “And speaking of, I met someone the other day,” he starts, and Stiles gasps theatrically, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Is this you crapping all over my dream of having Melissa as my stepmom?”

John sighs at the reminder. Melissa is…well, she seems happy with that Argent guy. Whatever. He’s not bitter.

“Not for me, Jesus,” he says, shaking his head. “For you.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, slumping back in the booth. “Eye roll” is too mild, John thinks. It’s more of a whole head roll. “Seriously, Dad, I’m only 25. You don’t have to marry me off quite yet. You’ll get your grandchildren someday, I promise. Stop trying to set me up with people.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful!” John protests. “He seems nice.”

And makes really good treats, he adds in his head. That’ll be a good trait for a son-in-law.

“And who exactly is he?”

John pauses. “I met him at the aforementioned undisclosed location.” 

Stiles snorts. “Find out if he actually likes dudes, then get back to me.”

“Okay,” he says seriously, and Stiles grimaces.

“No, Dad, don’t actually—”

Keep reading

Another Man’s Treasure

A/N: This is a completed five-part mini-series because @alrightpetal and I have this thing about making Harry super vulnerable and flawed. So here you go.

// Another Man’s Treasure // Mind on a Mission // Take the Lead // Worth the Pain // Wings of Butterflies


…I’m gonna show you tonight! I’m alright! I’m just fine! And you’re a tool so, so what?

You belted your heart out up on stage, pumping your fist in the air to empower your words even further. It was a good thing you knew all the words, too, because your mates had bought you so many drinks your vision was crossed and blurred you couldn’t have read the lyrics to an unfamiliar song. Then you would have just been a blubbering fool butchering a karaoke performance. And that would have been embarrassing.

Singing yourself blue in the face—and drinking yourself into oblivion—served as the perfect outlet for your aching heart. Hours earlier, you’d been dumped. Or more accurately, replaced.

It’d been a week since you’d heard from your long-term boyfriend, and while you knew he was on holiday with his mates—a holiday you hadn’t been invited on—it was still odd that you hadn’t heard from him at all. Not even a text to let you know that he’d made it to Amsterdam. You didn’t expect too much communication; you trusted him to treat you right, but, silly you, you thought your boyfriend might actually miss you and want to say hi.

Last night after seven and a half days of nothing, you completely lost it and called him forty-seven times in a row. And not a single one was answered. So you rang your closest friends and they came over, laptops and tablets in hand, and intense cyber-stalking commenced.

It only took thirty-four minutes for your good mate Lindsey to unearth a damning post on Insta that your boyfriend was tagged in by a girl you kind of knew. The picture itself wasn’t awful; honestly you couldn’t make out much besides silhouettes and drinks. Even the caption wasn’t much; all it said was, “this guy” with a random slew of emojis. But the funny thing was, when you tried to search for it yourself, nothing came up. Meaning you were blocked. You weren’t meant to see this picture.

Twenty-two minutes of super-sleuthing was enough time for your oldest friend Ashley to find every social media account the girl had, and then eventually uncover her phone number.

In thirteen minutes you had a text drafted to her that was so long it was broken into five different parts when you hit send.

And one minute and fifty-four seconds is all the time your boyfriend—well ex-boyfriend—allowed you to speak to him today before he told you he was coming back tomorrow and there’d be no need for you to come see him. Tomorrow or ever again.

So your mates did what they knew best. They took you out, got you absolutely smashed, and then got you up on stage to pour your heart out. Somewhere in between I Will Survive and Total Eclipse of the Heart, you got a bit weepy and ended up calling your brother from the toilet. It took you awhile to realize you weren’t actually sobbing to him but his voicemail, and as soon as you did you pulled yourself back together and headed out for another drink and a rousing rendition of Since U Been Gone.

The few other patrons in the pub were hardly paying attention to your drunken warbling on stage, only breaking from their conversations when your mates would cheer at the end of each song, some of them even offering half-hearted claps. If they were annoyed, they certainly didn’t let on. Most likely, they pitied you; for Christ sake, you pitied you.

When your song ended, you finished the rest of your drink and began flipping through the songbook. Liberation was surging through you and you wanted a song to match your mood; something to serve as a proper fuck you to the twat you’d wasted the last few years of your young life on.

The book closed on your fingers, and you stumbled back in surprise. Were books automated now too?! You still weren’t over the automated tills at Tesco, would you now have to get used to robotic books closing on you when they’d had enough?!

“[Y/N].”

You looked up, your blurred vision slowly coming into focus as you swayed on the spot. A robotic book didn’t close itself on you, a person had closed it. Which was rather rude of them.

[Y/N],” he repeated. Finally he came into view and you cocked your head in confusion.

“Hazza?” you slurred, taking a step closer to get a better look. You nearly toppled off the stage, but Harry was quick to grab you by the waist and steady you before easing you down.

Keep reading

aquiver | 01 (m)

aquiver (adj.) [uh-kwiv-er] in a state of trepidation or vibrant agitation; trembling; quivering

pairing: min yoongi x reader
genre/warnings: mature themes, talk of masturbation, smut, language
words: 10,110
summary: Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising ‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking, who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living…
note. inspired by the novella ‘The Grownup’ by Gillian Flynn, literally just the character’s past occupation haha

» playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 |

Keep reading

things zevran thinks a lot but doesn’t say
  • perhaps i should not offer to pick locks quite so often
  • why does ferelden insist on freezing cold weather
    • and such poorly-made boots
      • and so little brandy :(
  • sten would make an excellent cuddler, would he not? so big and strong and warm and … likely excellent at other things too
  • when will the warden decide i am no longer useful, i wonder?
  • it is surely not possible that they actually enjoy my company
  • i imagine it would be for the best if i left quietly during the night. certainly i would not be missed
  • i am sorry. i have hurt so many and i am sorry
    • i am the one who deserved this hurt
      • and i am so very, very sorry
        • for everything.

anonymous asked:

Hello!! Can I ask for a friend zoned MC feeling unrequited love to the RFA + V & Unknown which ends in a "I like you god damn it" confession?? And they like you back?? Thank youuuu (: I love your blog btw

Author’s note: sorry this is so rushed I have to post Saeran/V’s separate bc this is so long || So some of these aren’t as much confessions as they are cute, BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY THEM NONETHELESS ♥

Yoosung

  • “To the left, MC!!!! NO, YOUR OTHER LEFT!”
  • You smashed the buttons of your controller down, hoping something good would happen
  • I have no idea what I’m doing.
  • “Uhh, Yoosung?”
  • “Hmm?”
  • “I think I just died.”
  • “WHAT?”
  • You set your controller down and glanced over at your best friend
  • His eyes were glued to the screen, tongue sticking slightly out just like it always does when he’s focused on something
  • The light from the monitor flashed white and Yoosung jerked forward, causing your knees to collide
  • You felt your face heat up at the skin on skin connection
  • “A-Ah, Yoosung?”
  • “Not now, MC, I think I can win this!!”
  • Yoosung leaned over in front of you, trying to get a better angle of the screen
  • You got a whiff of Yoosung’s shampoo and your heart skipped a beat 
  • I don’t know how he smells this good after playing video games all day.
  • You involuntarily reached out and ran your fingers through his hair
  • “…So soft.”
  • For a second you though you felt Yoosung leaning into your touch
  • But that’s probably my imagination…
  • The screen flashed again and Yoosung turned around to look at you
  • He was still leaning over on your side, your faces now inches apart
  • “I won!”
  • Yoosung gave you a close eyed smile
  • That damn smile.
  • When you didn’t respond to him, Yoosung frowned
  • “What’s wrong, MC?”
  • “…”
  • Screw it.
  • You summoned every ounce of strength you had and closed the gap between his lips and yours
  • Before Yoosung could react, you pulled away
  • “U-Uhhh,” you looked at Yoosung’s bright red face, “Congrats on the win?”
  • Do it!! Tell him how you feel!
  • “Yoosung, I-“
  • “M-Me too.”

Zen

  • It was just another average friend date with Zen
  • You, him, a small bistro, hundreds of fans all begging to get a picture with him
  • Just a normal day
  • “Zen, over here!!!”
  • “Sorry about the flash, I just HAVE to make sure it’s a good picture.”
  • “Are you stupid??? ALL of Zen’s pictures are good!”
  • You turned to look at your friend, who was soaking up as much of the limelight as possible
  • This dork…
  • He stood up and tapped on his glass with a fork
  • “Ladies, ladies, you can all get a picture with your Zenny, just be patient!”
  • “Since when are you theirs?” you mumbled, crossing your arms
  • Zen glanced back at you
  • Crap, did he hear me?
  • You gave him a big smile and a thumbs up
  • That ought to throw him off his tracks.
  • Zen turned back to the sea of fans
  • “I’ll be outside in ten minutes, so if everyone could make a line outside, that would be perfect!”
  • In the blink of an eye the restaurant was empty again, a flood of screaming girls and guys retreating outside to wait for their prince
  • A sigh of relief escaped your lips as Zen sat down
  • “Are you mad at me?”
  • You looked down at your food and began messing with it
  • “Don’t play with your food, MC.”
  • “Okay, mom.”
  • He sighed, “If you aren’t going to answer my question I’ll just go outside right now.”
  • Zen put his hands on the table and started to push himself up
  • “W-Wait.”
  • You grabbed his arm and pulled him back down
  • “I’m not mad at you,” you sighed, “I’m just mad that we never get to spend time together like we used to.”
  • Zen put his hand on top of yours and leaned in toward you
  • “What do you mean? I see you all the time up at work!!”
  • You stared at his hand
  • He’s touching me.
  • He’s holding my hand.
  • ZEN is holDING MY FREAKING-
  • “MC???”
  • You awkwardly coughed and pulled your hand away
  • “Y-Yeah, uh no… what were we talking about?”
  • Zen leaned back in his chair
  • “Never mind… let’s just eat.”
  • He lifted up his glass of water to his lips
  • Those lips…
  • “I love you.”
  • “WHAT?”
  • “DAMNIT ZEN!”
  • You pushed away from the table and stood up
  • “You spit all over my shirt,” you gestured down to the wet material that clung to your chest, “my WHITE shirt!!’
  • “W-Well you said that you… you love me.”
  • “Ah… that.”
  • And all of sudden, the floor became veryyyyy interesting
  • I wish I had the power of invisibility…
  • “MC, look at me.”
  • While you were contemplating superpowers, Zen had taken the time to walk over and stand in front of you
  • “Nah, I think I’m good,” you continued looking down, “the floor happens to be my favorite shade of… brown.”
  • A soft and warm hand tilted your chin up, and your eyes met his scarlet ones
  • “I love you too.”
  • You slowly leaned in-
  • “ZENNY, WE’RE WAITING~”
  • Offff course.
  • Zen stepped back and glanced at the girl peeking through the front door
  • There was the click of a camera and a squeal, and she was gone again
  • Zen scratched the back of his head
  • “Sorry, I guess it’s-whoa whoa WHOA, what are you doing????
  • You flung your wet shirt over the back of the chair and shivered
  • “Man, this place is kinda cold,” you looked up and smirked, “then again, I am wearing just a bra.”
  • You heard a very inhumane noise come from the back of Zen’s throat
  • “The fans can wait.”
  • Zen grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his chest, his lips crashing against yours
  • The beast was NOT contained that night

Jaehee

  • On your way out of the RFA building you glanced at your watch
  • Damn… it’s already 11pm? I stayed waaaaayyyy too late.
  • When you walked past the break room you heard the familiar sound of the copy machine clunking turning on
  • “…damn Jumin and his damn reports-“
  • I wonder if that’s…
  • “-with his damn cat and the damn cat wine.”
  • Yup, that’s Jaehee.
  • You peeked in the room and watched as she stuffed a stack of papers into the copy tray
  • She wiped her hands on her skirt and sat in the chair next to the whirring machine
  • “You should go talk to her.”
  • “WhAT THE-“
  • Seven put a hand over your mouth and pulled you away from the door
  • Jaehee glanced up and sighed
  • “Anyone there?”
  • Seven removed his hand and you lowered your voice to a whisper
  • “What the hell do you want?”
  • He glanced at the breakroom and then back to you, giving you his famous ‘I have an idea that could go horribly wrong or perfectly right’ look
  • “Good luck,” was all he said before grabbing you and harshly shoving you in the breakroom
  • “WAIT-”
  • But it was too late
  • In a flash the redhead was gone, and you were alone with Jaehee
  • She looked up and smiled
  • “MC? I didn’t know you were here so late! It’s nice to have some company.”
  • You stared at her, unsure of what to say
  • S-So cute…
  • “U-Uhh, yeah…”
  • Jaehee stood up and stretched, letting out a tiny yawn
  • “How much longer does Jumin have you here?”
  • She picked up the warm copies from the tray and leaned up against the machine
  • “I just have to run this back to his office and I’m done! At least, until he inevitably calls me at midnight asking for more cat food…”
  • You walked with her to Jumin’s office, continuing to listen to her rant about his late night antics
  • When the two of you finally got there, she plopped the papers in a box outside the door
  • “H-Hey, Jaehee?”
  • She glanced over at you
  • “Hmm?”
  • “You wanna go grab some late night coffee? Since, you know, Jumin should be calling you in about,” you checked your watch, “30 minutes.”
  • “Sure!! That’s exactly the pick me up I need, a nice little friend date!”
  • Hold up.
  • “…Friend date?”
  • “Yeah, I was thinking-”
  • “I like you. A lot.”
  • Jaehee stopped and turned to you
  • “A-As a friend?”
  • You stepped closer, “More than a friend.”
  • Her eyes widened and a deep blush spread across her cheeks
  • “Oh…”
  • “Oh?”
  • You felt your heart break in two
  • She doesn’t feel the same… dammit, this is why you never fall in love with a straight girl.
  • Tiny hands wrapped around your own, causing you to look back up
  • Jaehee had a soft smile spread across her lips
  • “Me too… a-about the not friend thing.”
  • Her gripped tightened, “Not that I don’t consider you a friend! I’m just, well, what I’m trying to say, or rather, what want to say-”
  • “Would you two KISS ALREADY???”
  • Both of your heads snapped in the direction of the voice
  • “Seven, whyyyyy are you still here?”
  • “Still?”
  • “Yeah, he was here earlier when-”
  • “-When I set you guys up!”
  • As you and Seven began arguing, Jaehee looked between the two of you and sighed
  • She interlocked fingers with you and pulled you away
  • “Sorry, Luciel, but we have a date to get to.”
  • You stuck your tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes
  • “Whatever… have fun you two love birdddssss!!”
  • You looked over at Jaehee and smiled
  • Oh, we will.

Jumin

  • Dammit, he closed the blinds.
  • You rolled your chair closer and angled your head in an attempt to see into Jumin’s office again
  • “Peeping tom much?
  • “Shut it.”
  • Zen sighed and leaned up against your desk
  • “I still don’t understand what you see in him.”
  • You rolled your eyes and looked over at Zen
  • “You promised you’d be supportive-
  • “-And I am,” he held up his hands in surrender, “I just think you could do better.”
  • “What? Like date you?”
  • “Well, not that much better.”
  • Zen smirked and you playfully hit him in the stomach
  • Within the next second the two of you burst out laughing
  • “Wow,” you wiped a tear from your eye, “I don’t even know why that was so funny.”
  • “Me neith-”
  • “MC,” Jumin’s voice boomed, “Can I see you in my office?”
  • Zen raised his eyebrows and pushed himself off your desk
  • “Good luck,” he glanced back, “with him, you’ll need it.”
  • You rolled your eyes and stood up, cringing when your knees made a loud pop
  • Could my body, like, not embarrass me? No? Alllllllrighty.
  • You walked into the room and Jumin closed the door behind him
  • “So, what’s up?”
  • Jumin turned around and sighed
  • “I believe some… congratulations are in order.”
  • Huh?
  • “Did I get a raise?”
  • Jumin chuckled, taking one big step toward you
  • “No, I’m talking about you and Zen.”
  • …Huh?
  • “I’m a little lost… what do you mean-”
  • “Your relationship. Are you not romantically involved with each other?”
  • “Huh?”
  • Said that one out loud this time…
  • You mentally kicked yourself, “Zen and I are just friends.”
  • “Just friends?”
  • “Purely platonic.”
  • Jumin scratched his chin, completely lost in thought
  • You took a deep breath
  • Here goes everything nothing.
  • “…I actually have my eye on someone else.”
  • Jumin snapped back into reality
  • “Who? If that, well, if it isn’t too much to ask.”
  • Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrap-
  • “Is it really not Zen?”
  • Oh my god.
  • “You know,” you grabbed his tie, “you’re pretty clueless for a CEO.”
  • In one gentle tug, your lips connected with his
  • After a few seconds, Jumin pulled away
  • “So, it’s me then?”
  • You shook your head and grinned
  • “Of course, you-“
  • Jumin’s lips crashed on to yours again,his hands cupping your face
  • And let’s just say you were now very thankful for the closed blinds

Seven

  • “Wrench.”
  • “WRENCH!”
  • “Screwdriver.”
  • “SCREWDRIVER!!”
  • You grabbed the two tools from Seven’s hand
  • “You know, you don’t have to repeat everything I say.”
  • “Repeat everything I-OUCH! MC, why’d you kick meeee?”
  • Seven hugged his shin and hopped up and down
  • I’m surprised he has this much energy at 2 in the morning….
  • You looked back up at Seven, who had miraculously gotten over his bruised shin and was chugging a can of Dr. Pepper
  • …Who am I kidding, he never sleeps anyways.
  • It had been about an hour since Seven called you asking for help fixing his chair
  • You had gone to the furniture store IKEA anyone??? with him earlier that day and actually took the time to READ the damn manual
  • Anddddd, done!”
  • You clapped your hands together and smiled
  • “Wanna test it out?”
  • Seven gave you a mischievous grin
  • “Don’t mind if I do!”
  • Before you knew it, Seven grabbed your waist and pulled you into his lap, causing both of you to fall back into the chair
  • It creaked under the combined weight of you and Seven, but surprisingly remained stable
  • “Hey, you really did fix it!!”
  • Seven began spouting off nonsense about how crappy it was earlier, but you were too busy thinking about the fact that you were sitting
  • In his lap
  • INCHES away from his face
  • He’s so warm…
  • “-Plus, it kept making weird noises! I’m so glad you came over tonight.”
  • “Mmhmm.”
  • “Uh, earth to MC?? Agent 707 calling, can you read me??”
  • You shook you head, zoning back in
  • Seven sighed, relaxing back into the chair
  • “Thank God Seven you’re okay… I can’t have my best friend dying on me… literally,” Seven chuckled at his own joke
  • I love that little laugh.
  • “Dammit…”
  • Seven looked back at you
  • “What’s on your mind, MC?”
  • “You.”
  • DID I JUST SAY THAT OUT LOUD?
  • “W-What?”
  • Here we go.
  • “Seven, I like you.”
  • “You mean,” Seven furrowed his brows, “You like me, or you like-like me?”
  • You rolled your eyes, how old is he again??
  • “You’re so ridiculous.”
  • Seven looked at you patiently
  • “I like-like you.”
  • You felt lips lightly press on the back of your neck
  • “Well that’s not fair,” Seven tightened his grip on your waist, “because I love-love you.”
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a playlist for connor murphy

Connor Murphy Playlist

  1. Heavydirtysoul - Twenty One Pilots
  2. Cold Cold Cold - Cage The Elephant
  3. Colors (Stripped) - Halsey
  4. Totally Fucked - Spring Awakening OBC
  5. Work Song - Hozier
  6. Nicotine - Panic! at the Disco
  7. Where the Devil Don’t Go - Elle King
  8. Eleanor Rigby - The Beatles
  9. Take it All Back 2.0 - Judah & the Lions
  10. Wasted Time - Vance Joy
  11. Doubt - Twenty One Pilots
  12. I Wanna Get Better - Bleachers