Lindsey Drager, The Archive Of Alternative Endings

what do u do when it’s the right person but wrong wrong WRONG time

then they're not the right person after all!

i'm very tight w my biochemistry professor. she's literally a second mom to me. and when i was really struggling w my breakup i actually spoke to her about this whole concept of "right person, wrong time" (or any of its derivatives). she was like. that's misleading. a right person is not just their personality. a right person is the timing, the circumstances, where they are (in every sense of the word), where you are (in every sense of the word). so many factors go into what makes a right person. if a crucial factor doesn't align, they're not the right person and they're not for you. wasting time getting bogged down in the "what ifs" is useless bc they will never happen! your reality is what's right in front of you, and that's what you're working with. period.

wrong time = wrong person. the right person will be the right personality, the right time, the right everything. they will simply be meant for you; will fit you like lock and key. i so ardently believe that.

kuroo and kenma fs

i loathe all men in engineering but women in engineering are so insanely attractive to me

thr funniest part of therapy to me is when you first come in and you're exchanging niceties and they say "hello! how are you" and you say "im fine how are you :)" and then 30 seconds later they put on their therapist voice and say "so how are you doing?" and you go well lisa. believe it or not im doing Bad

sugawara x fem reader

WARNINGS: unrequited love,, wedding -- masterlist

a/n: i wrote this on a whim, so if it's terrible im sorry and ill probably edit this later

sugawara was falling in love, for the millionth time. the moment he stepped inside your dressing room, the tsumami of emotions capsized him and left him struggling for air, reaching out for a lifeline - anything to save himself from downing in your beauty.

you looked ethereal, stunning in your elegant white gown, with your hair pinned so intricately to your head. the happy tears in your eyes as you looked up at him, reaching for his hands, had tears gathering in his eyes as well, but for a very different reason. how he longed to hold your face between his palms and kiss the tears away.

'thank you' your voice whispered, wobbling slightly. confused, suga's hands tightened around yours as he braced himself for your next words

'for everything,' you carried on. suga opens his mouth to respond but stops at the shake of your head, telling him you weren't finished speaking.

'i...' you trailed off, wondering what the best way to say things was. 'i used to be in love with you, koushi' his heart drops to his feet and he all of a sudden feels like he's going to throw up. why are you telling him this now?

'let me finish,' you giggle, misreading his face to be a look of digust. 'i used to be madly in love with you, but i knew you only saw me as a friend. i just wanted to thank you, for letting me experience what love was for the first time, for being there for me.'

sugawara's lips wobbled as you stood there, confessing your feelings to him. he's imagined this scenario a million times prior, but never like this, never under these circumstances. the possibility of him having a chance with you was always slim, but now he finds out you loved him?

he thinks he hates you in that moment, despises the mocking smile on your face as you so graciously thanked him, for what? teaching him how to love? being the stepping stone for you to get with his best friend?

his gaze flickers to your eyes, and a pang of guilt reverberates through his heart. it wasn't your fault, no one was to blame for his misfortune, except himself. all of his ill feelings dissipate. he can't hate you, he never has and he never will. suga's feelings for you were his biggest downfall, and once again, you've proven him right.

staring into your hopeful eyes he thinks about what could've been if he had confessed all those years ago. would he be the one waiting for you at the altar? would it be his arms you find comfort and shelter in?

suga shakes his thoughts away, knowing they would only further his misery and hurt, and smiles at you, a pained, self pitying smile. he gathers the remainder of his sparse breath and finally responds to you. 'there's no need to thank me, my love, and besides i'll always be here, loving you y/n, no matter what' and you, despite not knowing the true meaning behind his words, breathed a sigh of relief and pulled him into a hug, thankful to have such a wonderful friend.

for one last time, suga allows himself to relish in your warmth and scent, his love for you painfully swelling and beating in his heart. suga let's go of you, seconds later, not being able to endure any longer.

he presses a kiss against your cheek, and leaves the dressing room, his body feeling like tonnes of dead weight, finally letting his tears escape and run down his face.

© ffsg0jo 2022 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

i feel like all i do is watch people and notice all the beautiful things about them and try to understand them fully and no one does that for me … sometimes i feel like i’m just a mirror to reflect people back to themselves. a vessel for love and that’s it… i make everyone else into poetry and no one else sees me the way i see them it’s so depressing

Baby megumi 😮‍💨

I'm really just smitten with baby megumi, and I know his papa is, too. he was probably born with a head of thick, black hair; downy soft with that smidgen of baby curl, a lock of which his mother presses between the pages of his baby book upon his first haircut. he's got bright, wondrous eyes that take in his world as if it's not the first time he's been here; he's got an air of bemused intelligence, keen and sharp and yet completely jaded in an old soul kind of way. he doesn't cry much. he's a good natured baby with a genuine smile that lights up his cherub face when his momma tickles his feet, and he sleeps through the night like a pro from a very young age. he plays with his hands a lot, the way babies do. focused on his tiny fists and the way his fingers unfurl and seem to get stuck in his mouth when he puts them in there. he's more likely to get upset when there's too much noise or other commotion. his favorite place to hang out is in the safety of his papa's arms.

he hits a lot of his milestones early- sitting up, walking, eating solid foods. it takes him a little longer than average to talk, but when he does, he's stringing together simple sentences and you have no doubt that he understands what the adults around him are saying.

"The Mute Button" Short Modern!Mizu Smut Imagine

When Taigen once called when she was strap balls deep, instead of ignoring it she actually answered. You look over your shoulder in absolute disbelief and this woman has the audacity to hold her finger to her mouth to silence you.

You’re about to pull yourself off and lay into her about it when she claps a hand over your mouth. Hitting the “mute” button on her end, she starts pistoning her hips at a brutal pace. She winces when you bite down on her fingers with a muffled scream, shoving her hand harder against your mouth to quiet your noises.

She unmutes herself. “Uh huh, yeah,” the barest hint of breathlessness is in her bored voice as she slows her thrusts to deep, grinding rolls up against that spot that has your fingernails trying to gouge her wrists as your sight goes blurry. She keeps to a pattern of jackhammering like a demon when Taigen is speaking into her ear, deadly silent, then slowing to a leisure pace when she has to talk.

On and on and on until she feels you tense underneath her, and she leans down over you. She pumps her hips in rapid little thrusts to push you through your spasming orgasm until you whine in protest behind her hand and go boneless onto the mattress.

“Whatever. Just don’t fuck it up until I get there tomorrow,” she grunts when you jab your elbow back into her ribs in retaliation.

She hangs up, tossing her phone beside your hip.

Snatching your hair in one fist, she yanks it up hard to expose the back of your neck and sink her teeth in until it stings and you’re trying to rip her hair to get her off.

“Brat.”

She licks at the indention marks of her teeth in your skin.

“Demon.”

“Ooo, so mean.” She slaps your thigh, “Spread your legs. Round two.” She takes the hair tie around her wrist and pulls her sweaty hair up into a high bun.

“Oh, now you have the fucking time? Go fuck Taig-mmng!“ you spasm as she pulls out, only to plunge two of her fingers in before you can breathe.

“He doesn’t quite scream as pretty as you,” she snorts.