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ConstellationsEvery night it was the same; they would lay a towel large enough for the two of them in the backyard, turn off all of the lights and lie down just in time to see the sunset and the stars rise.
Every night he would turn to her, point out a different constellation and tell her the story or legend behind each one. In turn she pointed out unidentified constellations where the stars resembled shapes of events that happened in their past.
Every night they found old, and new, constellations.
CalculationsFor him, everything was carefully calculated. The amount of steps he took to get to class maintained a constant count, and the amount of time allotted for homework was exactly 3 hours, 2 minutes and 29 seconds everyday.
When he attended football games, he predicted exactly where the ball would land before it even peaked. While everyone cheered because of an out for the other team, he sat still as though it were just another moment in life.
For him, all of life was precise to the finest detail.
Even in love, he moved as though every move and detail had a number or letter attached to it.
With You"Every time there's a hypothetical situation, you create a new parallel world. For example, we're at the stop light right now, but in another we could be past it, approaching it, or not even on the road.
"In one world you're driving and I'm a girl, or you're a guy in the passenger seat, or we're both girls or both guys and we're both driving our own trucks." He turned the wheel and accelerated as the light switched to green.
Yeah... and in another world we're together, she thought as conversation fell silent on the highway.
Last OneHe turned to her and asked, "Would you be mine if I were the last guy on Earth?" She thought for a moment before she replied.
"No, you're way before that."
The Corner of First and MainIf you walk down the street one day, and go to the corner of First and Main, you'll find a homeless man sitting against the building with his hands cupped in front of his bent legs as though asking for loose change.
A penny, a nickel, he won't take those. No, not even the quarter or dollar bill that you found three blocks away on your way to work. If you try to hand him those he'll shake his head and say, "I won't take your money, but I'll take your beliefs. What's life to you? What's important, and what's not? I have a question for you, one dressed in a suit. Which is more important, your love or your job? Of two important values, which do you value more: the money that keeps your life steady, or the love that moves it along?"
While pondering that thought he smiles and says, "It's not an answer you'll find right away. This is the kind of question you have to wait for it to come true. Only then will you find what you'll really do."
The twenty that you were saving for that daily morning
Wishful Thinking.There are days her eyes droop and she looks at the ground as he whispers in her ear. "It'll be better in time." And strokes her hair as though all the hurt would simply disappear.
There are days her keyboard stares back at her while a friend talks to her over instant messaging. "This will all be easier in time." In the end, they both know it simply might not.
Then there are days that follow each other, where smiles and laughter are all that she's surrounded by.
And there are days that she wishes he could do the same for days at a time.
Clock IIThere's a clock that sits on the wall, the numbers clear from miles away, the steady ticking sounds audible in even a train crash right next to it.
It's a difficult thing for anyone to ignore, but somehow you're doing an incredibly revolutionary job of avoiding the clock every day.
ClockThe clock on that wall on the other side of the room ticks in my ear, and it's just a constant reminder that the end is just another second closer to arriving. Yet you stand there with oblivion surrounding you, unaware of the impending end.
Maybe you can't hear the clock, and that may as well be my fault for I've never told you that it's mounted on that wall for as long as anyone can remember. On the same argument, maybe it's also your fault for you've never taken the time to consider the existence of the clock that ticks on the other side of the room.
But maybe being aware of the clock just makes all of our problems known.
Sense of SmellWhenever she slid into the bed at one in the morning, he knew she had been on the rooftop; he could smell the night sky on her skin, and the nicotine on her lips. He knew when she snuck out to the library; the smell of slowly molding papers and aged pages stuck on her skin and clothes.
When he caught the smells of packaged microwave popcorn, fresh nail polish, and romantic movies, he knew she had been lazing at a friend's house for the day. Sometimes she came home with floral scents as attachments, and he knew that she had spent an hour too long in the garden section of Wal-Mart again.
She smelled of varying things, from the night to the flowers; her taste, however, remained the same. It would always be her, the nicotine, and the blankets beneath them.
Masters of Disguise 1: 40-Love (Sherlockx Reader)Of course John had to be out on a date when he needed him. In the middle of the day too.
Though he supposed this solution was better in a way. You may not have been Sherlock's first choice but with you he didn’t have to worry about you getting flustered when people assumed you were a couple like he did with John.
You seemed smart enough and willing. Being amazed with his skills must run in the family. John had warned him that he’d have his head if he let anything happen to you- his baby sister. What an idiotic turn of phrase. You were hardly a baby.
At least you could play tennis decently enough to keep the cover he’d created from being blown. He abruptly ended the game when the couple he needed information from stepped on to the courts, moving towards the benches as he tried to come up with a way to engage in a conversation with them and tugged at the neck of his sweater vest.
What an infuriating article of clothing.
He let out a huff of
The Fear You Won't Fall- Mycroft x ReaderDigging a hole and the walls are caving in
Air's getting thin, but I'm trying, I'm breathing in
Come find me
It hasn't felt like this before
It hasn't felt like home before you
I have some information for my brother. Tea at noon?- MH
Mycroft let out a heavy sigh. How had he gotten himself in to this? Years and years of nothing and then you come along and change everything in an instant. He felt like every encounter with you was just making him fall further into the hole he’d dug himself and yet he still sought you out as often as he could. It was a direct contradiction to his beliefs and a continuous source of confusion for him.
All his life he’d felt above it all, like some superior entity watching over this insignificant world- a world he didn’t belong in. But when he was with you it was like he’d been blind, the world suddenly seemed interesting and so comfortably real, and suddenly he felt at home.
How long could he keep hiding that f
(Req) Methods of Communication (Canada x Reader)
"Ahh! Oh no!"
Pausing mid-sip of your drink, you glanced up.
Matthew Williams, probably one of the most discussed guys in your year at college, was standing a ways across from where you swear, beneath a large oak tree that had likely been planted there when the college was first built. Its great height and width stood as a testament to just how much both it and the college itself had grown since their beginning. From the distance you stood, it looked like Matthew had dropped a folding, sending a wad of papers scattered about his sneakered feet like giant, grounded butterflies. He hastily crouched, grabbing at the papers haphazardly, in a desperate attempt to stop them from being swept away by the breeze snaking its way between the buildings, but taking care not to crumple or rip the pages.
One paper, however, missed his frantic fingers and zoomed off, carried away by the air current. You glanced down, jolting slightly in surprise at the paper slapped into the leg of your jeans. Bending
Star Crossed (Spain x Reader)
(Spain x Reader)
Sneak Peak to a (possible) Summer series; depends on if you all like it.
“Because,” he paused and I held my breath, awaiting the inevitable words of my utter and total demise. “I love you.” He’d broken my walls, and entered without so much as a smile and a simple, Hola.
“What’s it like being an outcast?” He questioned, all hidden remorse aside, a small smile on his lips, this was rich. I patted my hands against my thighs rhythmically only for the best of my intentions to fling out.
“It’s actually rather lonely in all honesty.” He nodded and pulled his fingers through his chocolate curls. “I’m happy though.” I sighed and gazed over to the slowly peaking stars just over the orange horizon. It was getting lat
MoD 2: Astrophysics (Sherlock x Reader)What had just happened?
Once second he was desperately trying to remember any information on his hard drive about astrophysics- damn that pointless field- and the next you were flawlessly gabbing with the target, keeping your cover from being blown wide open. There was a definite advantage to having you along. Though he’d already gathered that from the tennis case.
Stupid sweater vest had given him a rash.
Sherlock blinked, glancing over at John to find your brother was equally confused, if not more so.
Definitely more so.
“Don’t mind them. He’s a chemist. You know how they are- no consideration for the bigger picture... and my brother there is here for a theater lecture. Token creative type, you know,“ you offered the young scientist, giving a quick grin as you adjusted the thick framed glasses on your face.
Shame they were fake. You looked… presentable with glasses.
Now that he thought about it the
AlliesXDead!Reader: I didn't notice , I love you~At The Allies Meeting..........
Here we are at the Allies' Meeting well it wasn't much of a meeting all of them were just sulking. Why? Its because a girl named (y/n) had died they had accused her of killing Kyra Vaski the personification of Pangea .
Russia smelled like Vodka and the sunflowers he has have all wilted he had spent most of his days at a bar drinking until he passed out.
France had stopped flirting and smelled like vomit like Russia he drank much to his heart Content.
America had stopped calling himself a hero , he didn't even dare to eat a burger like the two he hasn't eaten anything except for beer.
England the man who claimed he was a gentleman and hated it when his brothers came home drunk but now he was drunk himself , he even burned all of his books.
And lastly China the most cheerful and self proclaimed big brother of the Asians was sad but at least he wasn't the worst the only thing he drank was water.......
The Allies were having a m
Elements Combined- Bruce x ReaderTo the girl I told to run away
The ghost I saw a hundred times a day
You weren't like me, no you weren't afraid
Bruce’s heart broke at the tears in your eyes as you blinked it him in disbelief before turning on your heel to leave him alone.
Alone is what he had.
Alone protected him… protected you.
That was what was important, right?
He sank down in the chair at his station in the lab, holding his head in his hands as what he’d just done sank in. He’d told you, the woman he loved, to leave- to get out of his life. And the reason he gave? He didn’t love you. The hurt in your eyes had torn him apart inside but he needed you to run. He needed you to run from him to someone who could keep you safe.
Someone who wasn’t a monster.
He ruffled a hand through his chocolate curls knowing there would be more gray hairs after this and then leaned forward to throw himself into his work as a distraction.
It didn’t work.
The lab felt empty withou
Reader x Trickster!Nepeta: Egg Coloring"EY YO BITCHIE-"
"Oh my god she's still alive are you kidding me?"
Your name is ___ ___ and your... matesprit, Nepeta Leijon, Tac as you call her, is frantically pounding on your door.
"BITCHIE LEMME IN I REALLY NEED TO MAKE PLANS WITH MEW AND YOUR CUTE BUTT."
"Do we have to?" you groaned. You were literally laying on the floor of your cute little one-story apartment. Your Siamese cat, Simi, licked your nose. Simi was fond of the troll and in return, the troll was fond of Simi.
"Uh. Well not really but I'd sure as hell purrefur mew did." you heard her make a face. "And befur mew ask, no I didn't kill anyone this time. Da po-po let me furreeeeee~" the Trickster chirped.
"Fine." you simply said, wiggling over to the door and sitting up, staring at the oversized wood plank. "What's the password?"
"THERE'S A PASSWORD?!"
You stifled a laugh, merely smirking and standing up, stepping back to dodge the olive blood's attempted tackle-pounce as you opened the door. "Hello t
Boy (2p! America x Reader)
(2p! America x Reader)
This was just a spark of the moment, why not? Wrote it in one sitting, sorry if it sucks. I felt my fingers begin to write on their own and before I knew it I had a whole plot and characters. Like a warm up I suppose? Music makes you do crazy things; since I listen to music whenever I write it can really change my mood so you may see it in this writing style. Think nothing of it.
Song(s)– Boy by Emma Louise https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xl6IaSvyIOk
“Can you at least pretend like you love me? I’ve tried and tried again to grab your attention!” I sighed and yelled through the phone yet again, my elegant (h/c) falling from its bun. This was the fifth fucking time thi
44. Two RoadsTwo roads stood in front of me, both signifying either good or bad. On Memory Lane, the road divides, the dark side tempting me with its dark character, leading me into the terrible memories of my past; the brighter side, the one with the fonder memories pulls me away before I can walk into the deep abyss of my past.
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