escapingthoughtsandsecrets

[escapingthoughtsandsecrets]

It’s finally happening!!

Enamored [32] - Amazement

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback my loves, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please let me know what you think, thank you! ❤ And as always, thank you @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter and the story❤

Summary: Patience comes with a prize.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules.

Word Count: 5100

Series Masterlist

In all honesty, being called “picky” was not ideal when it was about an unmarried lady in London society, and if it were a couple of months ago you were certain you would lock yourself in your room and cry upon being accused of such but now?

Now you could hardly care about that.

Perhaps it was because you were already in love. You already knew who you wanted to marry and you knew no one but him could ever make you happy in matrimony. In fact, you knew now for certain that it was either going to be him or no one so the opinion of anyone else barely mattered.

But of course, the rest of the ton didn’t share the sentiment.

Keep reading

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Your Result:

self-worth issues

you don't believe you will ever be loved the way you wish you would, so you keep your expectations low. millions of people have trod the same path as you, and not all of them ended up alone. keep your head up: if love sees you looking, it will look back.

ur girl made another uquiz!! i spent sm time on it pleaseeee take it i think it's very fun but i'm probably biased...take it urself and decide if i'm right!!

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good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

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When I find someone intriguing, I go all in. Tell me your life story and I will check in about the littlest things you’ve mentioned.

… this is why I’m still single.

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I'd make a really cute girlfriend btw

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wandering: you're lost, aren't you? always looking for the way out, a way to run, because the next place might be it. the next stop might have what you're looking for. if only someone could tell you what to do, maybe then you could rest. it makes sense - belonging is the hardest thing of all. but in keeping your eyes on the destination, be careful not to forget the now. you don't want to get to where you're going and realise you forgot to live along the way, after all.

roll up, roll up one and all to the uquiz, and let me describe you with one adjective!

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I love everything about this and cannot wait until chapter 4!!!

The Art of Love and War [Chapter 3] of [8]

(Part 3! A lot of storytelling here, so if that isn’t your jam, this may not be the most interesting. It’ll pick up a lot next though so yay! Chapters are always out on Fridays. New content to be posted on weekends if that’s what you’re into <3

Summary: A typical grab-n-go becomes something worse for the Peacemaker gang. You aren’t what they thought, you aren’t what they expected, and Adrian Chase finds himself in a new sort of predicament. With Waller behind the scenes, the group must decide what to do and you must decide whether being in the shadows is how to live your days. Or, do you give in and fight, for both Adrian and the world.

Pairing: Adrian Chase x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Language, descriptions of violence, death, drug/alcohol mentions, trauma talk.

Chapter 1// Chapter 2// Chapter 3

Harcourt had made the executive decision to trust you, going off of what she had seen and what you had told her. She didn’t trust that you weren’t going to be a problem in the long run, but currently you appeared to be an asset more than anything else. If you hadn’t happened upon the team last night, she was well aware things may have gone south. Maybe they would have gotten out without issue, but the reality was that you had taken down eight men and left her team completely safe.

Keep reading

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liking a male character like …

[inspo]

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i’m not sure i’m capable of being loved right now / i feel safe in my quiet way of living and telling my secrets to thread & paper / i don’t know what i’d say if you asked me to know myself / more

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i live for older girls who take care of you and give you advice on weird things w/o judging bc they’ve experienced it and are just so warm. my only goal in life is to be that for others one day

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I have now left 2 notes on 2 separate cars telling them that the spot they’re parking in is for my apartment. My neighbor is the one who told me this and demanded I shovel the spare spot so she can get to her car because “it’s in my contract” (it’s not). Her guests stand outside talking so loudly I hear them when I’m trying to sleep. I’m about ready to fight some old people.

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F. Tony Scarapiducci is the best character on Space Force. Ben Schwartz is amazing 

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I need more!!!

The Conduit [Part 2]

(Part 2! I wanted to get more written out there and the skeleton of the thing done before posting. I want to keep this on a decent schedule moving forward, but I want to make sure it has an audience first. So if you like it, share it or like it! Or just leave a note.

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Finding yourself in an antique store that was never there before, you find a new world awaits. A man, a different man who belongs to no world, introduces you to his and you find your story isn't what you were told it was.

[Part 1] Time felt sort of meaningless here, which was an odd thing to say, but it was true. Only moments ago had you walked through the door, greeted by a charming, handsome man you had never met before. But since taking refuge on the plush couch, wrapped in a blanket in a quiet shop that felt like it didn’t really exist, you had lost all track of time. The pages before you, vibrant colors that could not possibly be as old as they were touted to being, felt like they were leaping forward. Flowers you had never seen, shapes and variations that felt alien, danced on the pages.

When the voice of the man who had greeted you, Peter, came bubbling forth again it shook you from your trance, looking up, “Sorry, what?”

He was smiling, a ridiculously large smile that made you feel better just seeing it, “I said I made some tea, if you want. Just some chamomile stuff. I used to drink more coffee but the boss said I was already ‘a lot’, so I figured I’d cut down. So uhm… you want some? It’s got honey.”

It was almost stupid how charming he was. And not because he oozed charisma but because he wasn’t even trying. Because he seemed to be stumbling over his own words, trying to get out everything in his brain all at once. He was kind, and he was paying attention. He had welcomed you into this shop that looked like it had some very nice things, and hadn’t even questioned where you were coming from. You had been almost accusatory, and felt bad now, seeing how genuine he was being about the whole thing.

Placing the book down you sat up, body having warmed and dried considerably. Your hair was still a bit a mess from the rain, but it was better now. Everything was. You nodded, “Tea sounds great. Chamomile, you said?”

He looked excited, as though you’d asked to see his stamp collection, and he hopped off to behind the counter, moving with an agile grace you hadn’t expected, his speed somewhat surprising also. And the return, skipping a bit as he handed you a beautiful ceramic mug, floral inlay that made it look otherworldly.

You took it with a smile, one that made his heart jump, something it hadn’t done in such a long time, “If it needs more honey, I can grab it. If it needs less… uhm… you can have mine? Boss says I also take things a little too sweet, though.”

In his other hand with the other mug, a more simple one, white with a little fox on it, reading “For Fox Sake”, which made you chuckle. Didn’t seem his style but you didn’t question it, “Does your boss have a name or do you just call him ‘boss’?” You inquired.

He sat on the other end of the couch, sitting in a position that didn’t look super comfortable, but you weren’t one to judge. Shifting a bit, looking mentally uncomfortable, Peter looked away from you, “Uh… I think that’s complicated.”

Smirking, you took a sip of the tea, impressed at its unique blend, the perfect amount of honey, “A name is complicated?”

Making a face, he looked back over at you, contemplating how to phrase it. Peter hated lying, he had done it for so long, and it felt unpleasant doing it again, “Well, he is Strange.”

Not a lie. He was both weird but that was also his name.

You chuckled, putting the cup down on a table by you, “That’s not a nice thing to say about your boss.”

He melted now. That chuckle. A soft noise from a soft person. Not weak. Soft, “What if I’m not a nice person?”

He grinned, stupidly, but in a way he felt it to be truth. He had become so much more jaded after Gwen, and everyone had known it. Whether it was his own admission of having stopped ‘pulling punches’, or the fears he had inside himself.

You saw it, though. He had laughed when he said it and smiled wide, but there was something that rang of pain, and you didn’t know how you knew, “You’re not nice. You’re amazing.”

It was a moment he would have liked to muse on, how with brief moments of talking that had been hours, in truth, in a world both here and not, that existed and didn’t, he would have liked to muse about it. The universe had, as it often did, other plans.

The hairs in his neck stood at attention and Peter whipped his head towards the fireplace, feeling things shake. His connection to the multiverse, Strange had said. The ‘spider sense’ was more than that, it was a tie to something magic. Special. And it was why Peter was allowed to even help here. He was a being that existed here. So why did you?

In the background he could hear you asking what was wrong, saying your name, though it was fuzzy as Peter tried to concentrate on what it was that felt off. He hadn’t felt this since-

All at once the world exploded, the fireplace getting brighter, a deep, dark, laugh coming from within, Peter looking back at you with wide eyes as he reached out to grab you. It was too late, though. In a moment, the light within flashed bright, the fire snaking out into an explosion, though not with heat. This wasn’t a normal fire. This wasn’t a normal shop. Nothing here was normal.

Instead you could only both watch, the world tearing apart as the explosion threw you backwards, the shop suddenly gone and a white light behind you, the shape of a star as the world began to throw itself into chaos. You tumbled back, falling head over feet, falling, mouth open as you tried to scream, reaching out to Peter who was flung back now, the light pulling him in the opposite direction.

But you flew, hair tossed and the world spinning, towards the bright white star, swallowing you whole. And briefly, as you felt the energy surge like a suction grabbing you back, you heard the laugh from before, though a shout now, and for the briefest of moments the world turned black, cold.

Flashing white again, brighter than a sun.

Black.

Light. White, Swirling chaos. Screams muted before becoming loud again.

One final ‘bang’ a flash of rainbow color, and the feeling of being hit by a train throughout your entire body.

With that, screaming, you came to.

Waking, struggling as you found yourself scrambling to get up, suddenly confused by the smell of fresh grass, hearing people talking, the noise of the city not far.

The world was bright, and while it was cool it was… real.

Your eyes adjusted, looking around, standing suddenly in the grass in Central Park. The day was bright, the sun shining down, you suddenly back in your converse sneakers, hoodie hanging casually off your body as you desperately looked around. It was familiar, but it felt odd. Foreign. A world that wasn’t yours but looked so similar.

Pausing, realizing people were giving you an odd look, though likely for your screaming, you looked around a bit. By now, most had begun to walk past, average, normal people walking around you.

This was confusing. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. You were drugged, weren’t you? Maybe the cute guy- Peter- had stolen your organs after all.

Patting down your chest and stomach, realizing in fact your organs did still appear to be there, you began to follow the sound of the street. You weren’t far from the North entrance of the park, where the city was alive not far away. Jogging a bit, not quite running, you hurried over to the street, hoping that perhaps it could explain everything to you. You’d look up, see Avengers Tower, perhaps Iron Man zipping around, maybe even Falcon doing a lap.

Instead, as you got into view of the exit, you looked up and saw a different building. It was extravagant, it was glorious, but it read “OSCORP” on the side, and that wasn’t a thing. That wasn’t even real. What the hell was OSCORP?

“What the hell?” You whispered, looking up with disbelief.

“Y/N! Hey, Y/N!” The voice, the one you recognized from before, the voice of the handsome guy from the- Peter Parker.

You turned, seeing him, stepping towards him with confusion on your features, “Peter? Peter what the fuck is happening!”

He looked around, shock on his own features as he glanced up, “Oh no. Oh no no no no no… Strange!” He shouted, stepping back, his long arm grabbing your wrist and yanking you gently towards him.

Stumbling slightly, you followed as he backed up towards the park again, making sure you were with him as he looked around, “This is bad. We have to get out of here. I can’t be here,” he looked frazzled, reaching suddenly into his pocket, withdrawing the phone and popping on a peculiar looking bronze antenna.

You focused on him, eyes wide as you waited for an explanation perhaps, an answer. Instead, he dialed, fidgeting and hopping slightly up-and-down on his right foot as he waited impatiently before- “Boss! Yes, I got her right here.”

You? Her?

“No, we’re in mine. I don’t know! America got us out I think. Yes! I dunno, the bright star thingie, right? Sorry! Yeah, yeah. No she’s fine.” He turned, looking over at you, a mix of fear and concern in his eyes, but relief. He needed you fine. Not the world, him. Someone he didn’t honestly know.

Right?

“We can’t stay here, Harry- Wait, you got us? Okay, wait, Boss, what-”

In that same moment before poor Peter could finish his sentence, you felt a ‘whoosh’ of air, hearing the same sound as you looked to your right, seeing a glowing golden ring appear, one that looked familiar for some reason, beyond surprised to watch as Doctor Strange came through, looking rather tired, all things considered. People around you had stopped, gasping and pointing as he stepped forward, sling ring on his hand, “Both of you, now. We need to get gone before your motley crew comes out.”

He was looking at Peter who was hanging up the phone now, the man nodding as he placed a hand gently on your bicep, pulling you a bit, “Hey, we gotta go.”

There was no urgency when he said it, but you knew it was urgent. In his voice there was something sad, perhaps broken, but ultimately rang of concern. You trusted him, though. You had no idea why. No reason to. There was so much happening, and none of it made sense. But deep down you understood that it was something bigger, and seeing Doctor Strange, his boss, apparently, made that clear. This was a world where the Avengers were not, where Peter Parker was, but didn’t want to be. A world that felt strange and uncomfortable, and that you had been sent to by way of the explosion in a fireplace, and being swallowed by a star.

Nothing was normal anymore.

~

At this point you had stopped trying to figure out how much time had gone by. Instead, you had resigned yourself to understanding that you were in some stone temple in some other country in what looked to be some monastery. There were people dressed in robes, practicing magic, some scrambling around, others reading. You had followed closely by Peter who was keeping his own senses alert, set on keeping you safe.

Now, you were sitting on a chair by a large, regal looking table, Strange pacing around, books floating by him, a man who had not been introduced but who Peter had mumbled his name, Wong, was running around speaking to others.

Biting at your nails, you wondered how your dumb now-ex-boyfriend was doing.

“You okay?”

Peter was looking at you with his big, brown eyes. Soft. He wanted you to be okay. He needed it. He hadn’t felt like this before, not since-

Not since Gwen. And maybe that was what was terrifying him the most. When he had grabbed MJ falling off the statue back in the “other” world, there was a sense of redemption in doing so. He had seen her tumbling, and knew in that moment what he had to do. In his head, the rescue had been done tens of thousands of times. He had seen what to do. Practiced it. What he would do if time turned back. Pushing himself off the debris for leverage, catching her to take the impact of the fall, and placing her down. Redemption. For the briefest of moments he had seen Gwen’s face from all those years ago and had understood that while this was Peter One’s timeline, it was his story, too.

And now it was yours.

“No. I mean, yes? Nothing’s broken or anything, if that’s what you mean,” you sighed, slumping a bit as your eyes scanned the place before you.

Peter reached over and took your hand, sitting next to you, “Your brain seems kinda broken,” he offered a crooked smile.

You chuckled, appreciating the hand being held, “Yeah, guess it is. It’s just… like, just a second ago my boyfriend, er- ex-boyfriend was breaking up with me. Then I was in that shop. Then the fireplace yelled at me and exploded, then I was in New York. Now I’m in a monastery?”

None of it made sense, which was all the more frustrating. Considering where the world was, this didn’t actually mean anything. You supposed it should have consoled you, in a weird way. With aliens coming to earth, Tony surviving the reverse snap, Avengers coming back, and with general chaos, didn’t this just seem so very ‘normal’?

“This isn’t normal, Stephen!” Wong was screaming at the sorcerer, the two waltzing rather briskly into the room occupied by you and Peter. You had snatched your hand back when Strange came in and for a moment Peter looked wounded.

Strange’s eyes were focused, though, looking at you with concern, “Well, no. I wasn’t arguing that a woman pulled through a temporal anomaly meant only for magic users having no memory of how it happened was ‘normal’, I was saying she reads as ‘normal’. Look.”

He walked to where you were, motioning you to stand, “Y/N, correct? Would you mind standing for a moment? I have a point to prove to my friend.”

Your face contorted and you looked irate, “You want me to stand up to prove a point?”

He looked away, making a face before shrugging, “Little more to it than that, but yes.”

Peter’s eyes were going back and forth between the two of you, not bothering to argue as you pushed back the chair and stood, hands on your hips, “What point are we proving?”

By now, you were back into your jeans, sneakers, and shirt. They were dry, a spell that Strange had cast almost immediately and that you had argued was really a weird use for magic but hey why not. But you were standing none the less, looking at the other sorcerer, Wong, who was eyeing you with what looked to be true concern and that was more upsetting than anything.

“This,” Strange reached up, placing a hand on your head and committing to sending you outside of your physical form and out of your body.

Instead, however, the group of you stood quietly, Strange concentrating as he stared, Wong looking focused, Peter confused and concerned, and you looking more confused, “Why are you holding my head?”

Strange opened his eyes, narrowing them as he spoke, “You don’t feel anything?”

His hand was warm, a little clammy but otherwise not noticeably weird, “No. I am hungry. Do you mean if I’m hungry or something?”

Strange took back his hand and sighed, shaking his head, “I stand corrected. We have a bigger problem, then. You aren’t human, Y/N. But more than that… I’m not sure I know what you are.”

Up until now, your biggest question in the universe had been what you were going to do for dinner, or perhaps if you wanted to apply to new jobs. You hadn’t considered where you stood in the scheme of things or how the world saw you, and you hadn’t considered who you might be. But maybe those dreams you’d had when you were young, or those lost memories of wandering in the woods as a kid, perhaps those mattered now. Those moments of peace and laughter when you felt the world fall away, the seconds driving that had really been hours. You questioned a lot of what you wondered was normal. Your head was spinning as you began to consider the gravity of the situation, and as the world began to spin, your eyes fluttering, all you could hear was Peter calling out your name and melting into nothing.

[escapingthoughtsandsecrets]

More than Friends (Clint x Reader)

Summary: You and Clint have been close since you first met as young teenagers working at the circus. As the years go by, those feelings deepen to something else. You’d always assumed Clint felt the same way and it was circumstance keeping you apart until you overhear him talking to Nat one day and hear the one thing you never wanted him to say. 

Prompt: hearing your best friend say you’re nothing more than friends and dying a little on the inside because you want to be so much more than that.

Gender: Female (she/her)

Rating: Teen/Mature

@avengersbingo​ - B4: Best friends since childhood

Tags: friends to lovers, deaf!clint, pining, circus of crime, brief mention of child abuse, trauma, mild PTSD, kissing, what timeline?

Words: ~6k

Note: Requested by the lovely @shelivesinthewoods​ for my valentines fics, this ended up being way longer than I anticipated because I got myself lost in the story. I hope you enjoy it!

Related: Clint Fics - Complete Masterlist

1. Not Friends.

Cold water dripped down onto your forehead, a thin tear in the canvas above flapping as it let in the sharp wind and rain. There was an overall stench of sweat and mould that only grew stronger as you stepped into the ring, and that dark patch on the side of the wooden stage that Swordsman assured you was “definitely not blood”.

For a moment, you considered ducking away and running back to your old life. However, as you thought about the mess you’d left behind, you realised that was not an option. You were already getting used to the smell. This time next week you’d be nose blind. It would all be fine. Or so you hoped.

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last love shaped

yearning security and safety, fearing heartbreak, dark deep blue, the smell of vanilla and cotton, slow dancing in the living room, being scared of the past, the fragility of being in love

hiii! i made a quiz abt love ♡ how is your love?

results include ‘friend shaped’, ‘crush shaped’, ‘younger sibling shaped’ and more!

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This is my favorite love poem.

“It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human. It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’ It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children. It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.”

— The Invitation, Oriah Mountain Dreamer

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fuck these “i need to be fucked” posts. I need to be motherfucking kissed. throw me against a wall and kiss me like i’m the love of your goddamn life and you didn’t think you’d ever find me.