anchors and sails

anonymous asked:

Could you please do Number 1 with yoongi?


{Y/N breaks up with Yoongi in the middle of the night, but why?}

I took in a deep breath and held it for as long as I could. If I let go of my breath I would surely lose my composure. I let of of my breath when it was too much to bear and leaned against the wall, sliding down slowly. I tucked my head into my knees, trying to soothe the ever throb in my head. I wanted it all to stop, I wanted to stop hearing his voice. I wanted to stop picturing his face, devastated, hurt, betrayed. “Make it stop. Make it stop. I don’t. I don’t love him.” After minutes of talking myself down from the threatening anxiety, I feel like I’m ready to do this. I stand up and trudge up the stair well to his apartment.

i reach the door. My clammy hands pound on the door ruffly. A minute later, a groggy Yoongi opens his door, startled and rubbing his eyes. I almost forgot it was practically 4am. “Y/N?” He says gruffly. “What are you doing here? Come in babe, is everything all right.” He reaches out to pull me inside but I instinctually step back, out of his reach. “No. It’s not fine. I need to talk to you.” I say, bitting the inside of my lip a bit to keep it from quivering. Yoongi looks at me now, his attention peaked. “What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping towards me again. I step back and I imagine the look of hurt in his eyes with my own glued to the floor. “I was sitting on my bed tonight, going through pictures of us. I saw our trip to the island. The first say we met when I asked for a photo with you. I saw that photo we took at my family reunion in January. When I was looking at the photos, I realized that I don’t love you. I saw it in this one specific photo. We were at the grocery store, a frickin grocery store and I’m pushing the cart and you’re picking up a box of cereal and asking me if we should get that one and Cameron is talking the photo. The picture is so ordinary in setting and shot but the way you look at me in that photo- You just, you’re looking at me like I’m art. Which I’m not. I’m far from it. But you, it’s like you see me as something I’m not. You’re eyes were narrowed and you are barely smiling but there’s just this energy flowing off of you towards met hat i can feel even through my stupid screen. Were in a fucking grocery store buying cereal! I look like a mess, my hairs in a bun with a bandana and I’m wearing some stupid baggy band shirt but you’re still looking at me like I’m a brand new world!” I take a breath and look up at Yoongi to see that he is staring at me just the way he did in the photo. “I don’t understand, Y/N.” He whispers.

“I don’t love you the way you love me. I don’t know what love is and I’m not ready to find out.” 

Yoongi runs his hands through his hair, rolling his neck. “Y/N you aren’t making any sense. Love is us. It’s literally us! You and me, we,” Yoongi hold me by my arms, searching my eyes for any form of doubt. “It’s when you say my name, Y/N. When I feel your presence and when, when. God, Y/N. I don’t understand where this is coming from. Please don’t leave me.” Yoongi is blinking rapidly, trying to hold back the gleam in his eyes threatening to spill. I shake my head stonily. “No, Yoongi. I’m sorry but, this just doesn’t feel right anymore. I feel like I’m forcing myself to feel things that don’t come naturally for me. I’ve been feeling like this for a while. I din’t know what it was but now I know, I don’t love you.” I look deeply into his eyes as I say this.  Yoongi instantly drops his hands from my arms and lets me go. He nods his head, butting his lip so hard it looks like he is smiling. He shakes his head, putting his hands on his hips and walks back into his apartment shutting the door. 

Only when I’m out of the building do I allow myself to cry. I’m in so much pain it hurts to breathe, to think. I get inside the black car waiting outside for me and am greeted by the woman.

“You did the right thing Y/N.” She says, looking at me through the rear-view mirror. “I told you, you’re an anchor on Yoongi’s sail. If he wants to make it in this business. Publicity is everything, he’s gotta have the right people beside him.” I nod my head in understanding. 

“There’s ten thousand in the envelope next to you. Take it.” She says. I scoff, wiping my tears. “I didn’t do this for money, I did this to protect him and you know that. I’ll be leaving now, you won’t have to see me ever again. Unless you’re agency screws him over, than I’m coming for you.” 

I hop out of the car and slam the door shut. I turn the alley right when I hear the apartment door swing open. I lean against the wall and see Yoongi run past me, yelling out my name. It takes everything in me not to respond. To run after him and beg him to forgive me for saying I didn’t love him because I do. It’s because I love him that I have to set him free. 


Hey thanks for reading! I just want to thank all of our followers for being so kind and supportive :) I love you <3 I wanted to get to know you guys a bit. What are your favourite movies? Mine is Midnight in Paris (I liked it before Tae mentioned it so I was really excited to hear he enjoyed it too!) Let me know :) I love movies and am dying to hear from you guys. Also, Bias? Mine is Chimchim :)


buildarocketboys  asked:

99. for silver/flint/thomas

Hokay, this wound up being part of my Anchor series, so while you don’t have to have read the other two stories so far, they give a little context to how the three of them wind up in France. (There’s going to be a part between this one and Something to Hold On To though because that’s how I roll. Lots more angst to share around.) 

99: Be careful or Morning, Noon, Day or Night

                                                   *  *  *

“Be careful.” Silver admonishes for the third time. “He’ll have my head if you fall off that ladder and crack your skull open.”

“I do know how to climb a ladder, thank you.” Thomas mutters from his position on said ladder currently leaning against the mast. 

“Ah, yes, do tell me of all the ships you’ve sailed upon, my lord, the crews you were part of, how long you were at sea, ow.” Silver’s speech is ended by the piece of rope Thomas drops on his head.

“We all know you’ve been upon the sea forever, John.” Thomas says in a long suffering voice.

“I hate the sea.” Silver murmurs. “I don’t know why we’re even doing this.”

Thomas merely gives him a look and Silver sighs. Thomas doesn’t have to remind him. They both know why they’re doing this; they’re doing this for James.

Silver sighs again and stares down at the water below them. He keeps doing that, lapsing into silence more of late.

Thomas pauses at tightening the rope and looks down at him. They still don’t talk much about before, before Silver came to them. The tenuousness of their survival relies on that. For now.

They’ve been in France three months now. Three months and Thomas is finally thinking they may be able to settle in the cottage they’re in, but James is restless and Silver, while keeping up a calm exterior, still never goes anywhere without his pistol.

Do you miss her? Thomas would ask, if he wasn’t aware of how a ridiculous question it was. He doesn’t even know Madi and he knows the answer.

Of course he does.

Thomas finishes tightening the rope on the sail and climbs back down the ladder. He places a hand on Silver’s shoulder, just a light caress and then asks. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“If he doesn’t he’s an ungrateful bastard.” Silver says.

They’ve been working on the sloop for two months now. The moment Thomas had mentioned James’s birthday wasn’t far off; Silver had gotten a look in his eye.

Keep reading

to the last

Sometimes goodbye

is the only way

Words don’t mean

a fucking thing

Pitch black in the middle

of the day

The sun still shines

somewhere far from here

cut your losses, run away now

Don’t worry about me, my dear

This ship was built to sink

anchor down, sails all ripped and torn

Too much feeling,

no time to think

abandon ship and sound the horn

I don’t blame you, not one bit

as I go down with this ship

You got away clean,

I’m happy, hey

Sure-footed, you’ll never slip

As I go under, smile to the last

drink the lightning, eat the thunder

drown with a laugh…

and a gasp


Ancient Anchors

Travelling by sea in ancient times could be very dangerous. Anchors were decorated with the name of the sea god Poseidon or the goddess of sailors Aphrodite and with good luck symbols in the hope of a safe voyage.

The first anchors were large flat stones pierced with holes to tie a rope through. Wooden arms helped the anchor grip into the silt or rocks on the seabed. Later anchors were made of heavy lead stocks attached to a wooden shaft with curved wooden arms. 

A boat usually needed to lower several anchors, depending on its size and the weather conditions. There was always a risk that an anchor would stick too firmly into the sea floor and have to be cut loose.

See these three Greek anchor pieces, made between 500 and 200 BC, in our Storms, War and Shipwrecks exhibition which closes soon on 25 September.

Professor Jones

This is an alternate universe fic. Emma is a college graduate student and Killian is her professor. Smuttiness ensues. This is rated M for mature. Please enjoy the naughty goodness. This and my other stories are also on

chapter 2 / chapter 3/ Chapter 4/ Chapter 5/ Chapter 6/ Chapter 7/ Chapter 8

Emma wiped her hands on her jeans and braced herself. Walking into Professor Jones class took herculean effort. She would deny it until her last breath, but she swore the air seemed to sizzle when they were together. If the Maritime History class hadn’t been one of the required courses for her graduate course she would have bailed. She tried to switch professors but was denied as the other professor’s class was full. She took a deep breath, opened the door of the lecture hall and quickly blew it out in relief. The hall was empty. Confused and a little irritated that she hadn’t been given notice, she assumed class was canceled. She turned on her heels and headed back out the door when she heard the smooth voice.
“Going somewhere Swan?”
She hated when he called her that. She had asked him to please call her Emma for the better part of three weeks with no results. She hadn’t seen him sitting in the chair adjacent to the lecture podium. With his signature, all black attire, he blended seamlessly into the dark. It annoyed her that a professor would wear tight black jeans and black shirts. What the hell kind of teacher dresses like that anyway she thought. The black shouldn’t surprise her since he practically radiated darkness. Sexy, gorgeous, darkness. She watched as he stood up in the chair and begin to make his way toward her. Her breath hitched and she licked her lips nervously.
“I guess I didn’t get the memo that class was canceled” she said with a bite.
“Well that’s shame. I thought I emailed everyone in class but you must have been left off the list. Actually, this works out splendidly since I needed to speak with you anyway.”
The last thing Emma wanted to do was stand in a dark, empty lecture hall with him. He was too close. He was always too close. She could smell him and the scent of leather and something woodsy filled her until she wanted to curl up in his arms and breath him in. It was always like this. The first time she saw him on campus she felt like she’d been punched. The way his dark hair fell over his eyes, the long, confident stride, and the accent had every girl that saw him dropping at his feet. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she was practically salivating every time he was nearby.  
“And what would that be about professor?” she crossed her arms as she spoke, as much to send a DO NOT CROSS signal as it was to keep her hands from betraying her by running them down his body.
“I’ve dropped you from this class” he said turning to gather up his papers. Emma’s jaw fell open.
“You what? Why would you do that? I need this class Mr. Jones” she began to plead.
“Swan, relax. I got you into Hopper’s class. I was assured by your advisor it fit into your schedule and that you had been trying to get in but were denied. I thought you’d be pleased” he said with a lift of his brow and a slight smirk.
“Oh. Uh, thank you. But why?”
As he slung his bag over his shoulder he turned and grinned at her. Emma was sure her heart stopped and restarted as he practically glided over to stand in front of her. His smile made her think of a crocodile ready to devour its prey.
“Because you can’t have a relationship with a student you are teaching. It’s frowned upon apparently”.
“We aren’t in a relationship” she said with more cockiness than the blush creeping up her neck allowed for.
“Not yet love” he whispered and walked out of the room.

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Broken One

Originally posted by shyymoob

Pairing: John Laurens x Reader

Warnings: cursing, maybe a little too much angst?

Prompt: what happens when your love finds another?

Word Count: 3,208


All along it was a fever

“John! You scared the crap out of me!” You shouted, jumping up from your bed. John shut your window and pressed a finger to your lips.

“You can’t just climb in my window, unannounced!” You harshly whispered. He gave a soft laugh and shook his head.

“I have news.” 

A cold sweat, hot-headed believer

“What is it?” You tried your best to act angry with him, but the smirk dancing upon his lips made you smile.

“I asked her out today. And she said yes.” John tapped his foot, nervously waiting for your response. You were his best friend, he needed your approval.

“Who’s she?” You tilted your head, obviously confused.


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anonymous asked:

wincest first time? thank you!

I’ve been waiting for something to ask this because it’s one of my very very favorite fic tropes. asdfghjkl.

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