and then they rode off on the horse

anywhom tbt when i had a dream i was in this beautiful meadow and beyonce rode up to me on a white horse and told me she was dropping an album on friday the 13th and i was like “:O thanks beyonce!” and she rode off and disappeared behind a waterfall and when self titled dropped i was like “why is everyone freaking out she announced this months ago?” because i genuinely forgot that i did not encounter beyonce in some mystical realm for a one on one press release. better times 

Cool Down- Steve x Reader   Chapter 10

Authors Notes: So sorry! I know it’s been a while since I updates this series but I had a lot going on. Anyways, here’s this and I hope you enjoy it!

Notes/Warnings: fluff, steam, jealousy, lots of making out(as per usual)

Originally posted by your-kylie-me

 Steve was in awe. Somehow, and he couldn’t figure it out, but somehow you looked even more beautiful this morning. He didn’t know if it was because of the way the early morning light made your features stand out or if it was the way the sheet lay so delicately across your lower back. Maybe it was how relaxed you looked in your sleep or the way your hair spread out across the pillow. But he had a feeling it was the fact that he finally got to show you just how much he loved you last night.

 You inhaled at the feeling of his fingers brushing across your cheek and your eyes fluttered open. “Good morning.” You smiled.

 His grin widened and he cupped the back of your neck, rubbing his thumb along your jaw. “Good morning, beautiful.”

 You felt your cheeks flush and you grabbed his wrist, just needing to touch him. “What time is it?”

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weesta  asked:

Via IRC fundraiser - Steve & Clint bonding - Steve took Clint at his word immediately after Clint shook loose of Loki's spell - Clint will never forget that.

Steve discovered, his second week in Wakanda, that the fishing there was amazing, and T’Challa had said he could fish so long as he threw the little ones back unharmed and brought his catch to the palace kitchen to be cooked. Nothing was wasted in Wakanda, and hunting was for food, not for sport. (Though T’Challa admitted with a grin that you could have good sport from hunting for food.) 

To Steve’s shock, after the jailbreak, Clint actually took Steve up on his invitation to go fishing with him. He wasn’t bad at it, either; by the time the sun was up Clint had landed a big catfish-looking creature, and had helped Steve pull up a second. 

“Can I ask you something?” Steve said, as Clint re-baited his line and tossed it out after losing his bait to a fish smarter than either of the ones they’d caught so far. 

“Sure,” Clint replied, leaning back in the boat, sipping from a canteen. 

“I get why you retired,” Steve said. “Good neutral response to the Accords, and you had a family to think about. But why’d you come down on my side when I called? You didn’t have to.”

“No, I suppose not,” Clint agreed. 

“But you didn’t even object. You just saddled up and rode in.”

Clint smiled. “I like that image, me riding in on a horse like the Rohirrim at dawn.”

Steve blinked at him.

“Too nerdy?” Clint asked. 

“Shockingly nerdy,” Steve agreed.

“I mean…” Clint felt a tug on his line, tested it, then shrugged it off as a current. “I owed you one.”

“From when?” Steve asked, brow furrowed.

“Well, maybe not…” Clint glanced away. “I didn’t owe you one, like, you did me a solid and you’ve got credit. It’s more…you put your trust in me, and I owed you that back again. When Natasha pulled me back from Loki. I said I could pilot a plane. You said okay. You didn’t know me from Adam.”

“Natasha trusted you, that was enough for me,” Steve said. 

“That’s what it looked like from your angle, sure. From my angle, Captain America just told me that despite all the terrible shit I’d done, he knew it wasn’t me who did it, and he knew I could saddle up.” Clint smiled at him. “When someone trusts you like that once, you owe it to ‘em to be worthy of the trust somewhere down the line.” 

“Huh,” Steve said. “Got you in a hell of a pickle, Clint.”

“Bah, I been in worse,” Clint replied. “It’ll all sort out. In the meantime…” he reached over and hooked a finger on Steve’s line, testing it, “I think you got a bite. Give it a reel, see if we can get one more before we pack it in.”

All I've ever wanted

request: none

warnings: none

a/n: PLEASE REQUEST BATB STUFF BECAUSE IM IN LOVE WITH THE MOVIE


“Where is he!” You shouted as you rode your horse up to the castle.

Everyone’s heads snapped towards you as gasps rang out. You nodded towards the villagers as you jumped off of your horse as they bowed to you.

You had planned on coming to save Belle but some sort of curse had been broken and now you remembered everything. You remembered your status, your brother, and your love.

You ran through the crowd and up the stairs. You spotted your brother as you called out,
“Brother I’m going to kill you!”

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The Huntress.

Originally posted by disneyfeverdaily

Titled: ‘The Huntress.’ 

Pairing: Gaston x reader 

Word Count: 1,714 

Warnings: Gaston/Luke Evans feels, FLUFF, super angsty ending sorry not sorry, etc. 

A/N: This was a request from @brooke-supernatural16 : Can you do a one-shot with Gaston? Where the reader is a huntress and Gaston see the reader and instantly falls for her and follows her like he did with belle but is more polite with her?

A/N: I do hope this is what you were looking for in this fic! 

Tagging: @captainemwinchester @little-red-83 @impalaimagining@sherlocks-timetraveling-assbutt @hobbithorse19 @feelmyroarrrr @lefouismylife @redimagines @letowolfie @ciaprincess @speedycatbluebird @haniiix33 @mademoiselle-lani


    It was a crisp and French morning. The ground was wet with a fresh layer of dew. The sun had barely risen over the horizon. Twas a nearly perfect morning for a hunt. Gaston has his sights on his hunting musket centered in on an innocent and meek, deer. He was patiently awaiting for the correct moment to apply the right amount pressure on the trigger. 

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I love the whole “yall are way too entitled, the thing belongs to the creators not to you stop complaining” argument because it almost always comes from persons of the majority, or rather, people who have never had to worry about being represented/treated with respect/listened too. It’s easy to roll your eyes at the minorities in a fandom when you’re given everything you want as the default. It’s easy to argue about it without looking into the deeper issues because you have no stakes in the matter other than showing off the high horse you rode in on.

A little sentence goes a long way

A/N: I’m sorry if you guys don’t like what’s behind this but I just thought of something and I hope you guys don’t mind
~> Everyone makes fics of Anxiety being transgender and that’s why there’s no name
~> honestly though, I love the idea I had of Prince being the transgender one.
@the-prince-and-the-emo @analogically-prinxiety @princeyandanxiety @softlogic ________

Princess Allouette was the most gorgeous princess in all the land… or at least that’s what legend told. Then why did she suddenly go missing, her dresses crown and all left behind. No sign of struggle, so why was she gone? Why was Allouette gone leaving her father in true despair and her mother in a knowing suffer.

It was simple really, Princess wasn’t the right title for Allouette. So after a fight with her mother about not being a princess, Allouette saddled up her noble, cream coloured, stead and rode off in the night never to return to the Kingdom of Far away.

It wasn’t long before the Princess came to a stop, a fassionary in the kingdom of Way Far away. Having a peasant purchase her a princely outfit with money she handed him, she was satisfied with the purchase and gave the peasant boy enough money to feed him and his family for years to come.

Allouette changed into the outfit behind a barn, admiring the beauty of the outfit and how the jacket covered the feminine parts. Prince Roman was the title that had been decided upon for 10 years since a 6 year old realized they weren’t who people said they were.

Roman smiled at himself and got back on his horse before riding quickly, the dress in a bag to he burned at tonight’s fire. The fire never came though, Roman had found a door in the middle of a field that stop on its own. The world continues all around it. More field behind it and more field to the sides. It was a peculiar thing. A shaky hand touched the door knob and then opened the door, a room formed before his eyes. Allowing the Steed to do as it may, he entered the room and looked around. The room was how he had imagined his royal room would look had he been born a boy.

“Oh hi kiddo” A man was at the door on the other side of the room now, Roman froze next to the red bed with gold painted frame.

“Oh, my apologies, am I trespassing? It’s just the door..” Roman spoke urgently, not wanting to be beheaded just as he became who he wanted to be.

“No don’t worry kiddo, this door just showed up for us as well, it was a blank wall and then a door formed. I believe this room was waiting for you…” The man trailed off. They spoke for a few minutes, Roman mentioned nothing of his previous life.

“You said others…” Roman finally spoke up and the introduced Morality smiled.

“Yes others! Come with me” He takes Roman’s hand commenting on his it’s very soft and then dragging him to meet logan and Anxiety. After introducing the pair Roman waved hello.

“Patton? Who is this?"Logan questioned and nodded heating that Roman was the new rooms occupant. He wasn’t so confused now.

"He looks like a more stuck up Princess Allouette… but.. a dude.” Anxiety observes aloud. Roman blushed, already hating his old identity. The topic of The Disappearance of Princess Allouette spread like wildfire everywhere.

13 years later Roman had successfully hidden his past all these years, he owned many royal outfits, a few crowns, the room changed as he grew up and he gained quite the connection with Patton, though it was quiet right now. Nobody was awake,these times were when Roman judged his body in the mirror, how feminine it was and how much he hated it. He had found a binder and it worked wonders for his self esteem but when it was off, that’s when the dysphoria kicked in.

that’s when Roman started to feel like he’d never truly be a boy, never truly pass, no one ever would view him as a him, his body suck,  his face sucked,  he sucked. Roman’s mind would race with self depreciating remarks and comments. His mind would go like this until he fell asleep and then continued in small bits for the whole next day. Though one sentence always made him feel better.

They rarely ever said it, but there was those moments when he’d receive the simple phrase, no matter it’s form, of “You look handsome” it always brought him confidence.

Roman looked away from the mirror at last when when there was a knock on the door and Roman instantly wrapped a towel around his body, he was always used to know one being up he didn’t realize that his youngest brother was still awake

“Hey” Anxiety spoke as he opened the door and slipped in, noticing Prince’s demeanor instantly, the towel position next, and then the high bumps afterwards. “Uh, should I slip out while you uh” He clears his throat awkwardly. Roman sighed, he couldn’t keep his body hidden forever, his past hidden forever.

Roman shook his head but kept the towel on, Anxiety covered his eyes while Roman dressed. “Sorry for intruding,  I uh, just had a nightmare” Anxiety spoke and Roman smiled gently pulling Anxiety on to his bed.

“would hearing a story help?” Roman received a nod “once upon a time, in the land of Far Away. There lived a princess and her parents. Ever since the Princess was very young she never loved being called a Princess. The Princess known as Allouette despised her title, name, and who she was. When Allouette was 15 she took her horse in the middle of the night and ran away, leaving everything but some money behind. When she reached the kingdom of Way Far Away she gave a little peasant boy enough money to purchase her a prince outfit, when he returned with the outfit she gave him the rest of the money she owned and rode off once more. Allouette changed out of her dress and into the suit, before taking a chard of glass and chopping off her hair-”

“Like Flynn does to Rapunzel in tangled?” Anxiety interrupts and Roman nods smiling.

“-they chopped it shorter and shorter until they thought it looked proper like a prince and continued on their way. One day the new prince came across a field, the field was long and wide but right in the middle was a wooden door that you could walk all around but seemed to lead to no where at all until opened. The door lead to a room which lead to a house owned by the parts of a human. The prince soon took the name as Prince Roman Sanders, and he had three amazing brothers.  Patton, Logan, and his favourite was the youngest, Anxiety” Roman finished the story and Anxiety was smiling widely, the first time in a while.

Anxiety was the first to know and the only to know of Roman’s past. Everyday since then Anxiety would find a way to help Roman’s self esteem quietly. Calling him handsome, or telling him on their lonesome that Prince was really passing that day.

The moral of the story is: Tell a transboy he’s Handsome or how much he’s passing, it really help with their self esteem.

Collision Course - Part Eight

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven


They rode in silence, only the occasional directions to the horses or calls to break for food or water.

It surprised Claire that Frank was so quiet but she presumed it was because he found Murtagh intimidating and her own silence daunting. As Murtagh erected a small camp for the night, Claire left Frank to cope with being saddle sore and wandered off to gather kindling for their fire. In the woods she realized how different silence was from solitude.

Her heart was heavy and she knew why; she missed Jamie. With Frank riding behind her sharing a horse, it was impossible not to be reminded of those first days after she traveled through the stones and the solid, reassuring presence of Jamie at her back, sheltering her and keeping her warm. Had she ever felt quite that way with Frank? Or was she misremembering all of it? She had wanted to get back to the standing stones so she could get back to Frank since she’d arrived, she just hadn’t succeeded before he showed up there himself. During that first ride with Jamie, she had been in shock and denial about what had truly happened; she had been surrounded by a band of ruthless Highlanders who thought she was an English spy and easily could have killed her.

She should be relieved that this whole ordeal was ending. In a few days time she would be back in the twentieth century; she would be able to soak in a nice hot bath, wash her hair properly, even shave her legs; no more stays or layers of skirts to trip over; bedding with clean sheets and no lingering smell of a chamberpot tucked away under the bed.

And Frank would be the one lying beside her. His wounds would be tended in a proper hospital and then they would go back to Oxford and pick up where they’d left off before their holiday had been so abruptly derailed.

That’s what their holiday had been about in the first place––picking up where they’d left off before the war. Was it possible too much had happened? She tried to think of what Frank must have gone through since her disappearance, the trauma of traveling through the stones and to so quickly fall into Black Jack Randall’s clutches; she had come dangerously close to that herself.

She did understand Frank’s position and she felt for him but there was something more holding her back.

Jamie.

He would be all right without her… wouldn’t he? Did she want him to be?

She scolded herself for thinking something so selfish. Of course she wanted him to be happy… she would simply be happier if it was her making him happy.

But she couldn’t have things both ways; she couldn’t reconcile the vows she’d made to Frank all those years ago––the vows that had sent her searching for a way back to Craig na Dun in the first place––with whatever it was she felt for Jamie.

She carried the kindling back to their camp and started the fire. Murtagh disappeared to see about supplementing their provisions with some fresh meat and Claire took one of Frank’s bandage-wrapped wrists into her lap to inspect the state of the wounds. They were still redder and more swollen than she would like. Prodding gently, some puss squeezed from the edges of the scabbed over cuts. He needed antibiotics.

“You’re still wearing it,” Frank remarked flatly, surprising Claire.

She reached for a salve from her medical kit and began lightly applying it to the infected wound.

“Wearing what?”

With his other bandaged hand, Frank reached over and tapped Claire’s left hand.

Her thumb instinctively felt for the iron band of her wedding ring, her heart steadied by its reassuring warmth on her finger.

She looked back at Frank’s arm in her lap and shrugged.

“Don’t really notice it,” she said dismissively. “Slipped my mind.”

“You should give it to his friend there,” Frank nodded toward Murtagh who was nearly finished with their tents for the evening. “He can return it.”

Claire clenched her teeth and ignored Frank. She could not tell Frank that Jamie had said she could keep the ring because that would show that she had thought about it and she would also feel compelled to tell Frank that she had asked to keep it in the first place.

Luckily, Frank was perceptive enough to drop the subject and instead began expressing concerns about his arms.

“You’ll be fine,” Claire assured him. “Once you get back, it’s just a matter of getting antibiotics for the infection. You probably won’t want to roll up your sleeves too often because of the scars––those are probably unavoidable at this point.”

“Once we get back,” Frank emphasized quietly.

Claire felt her cheeks flush momentarily but continued applying the salve uninterrupted. “You know what I meant.”

Having finished with the salve, she turned to put the jar away in her medical kit and thought she might have heard Frank mutter, ‘Do I?’ under his breath. She ignored him and set about re-wrapping his wrists, the rest of the treatment performed in silence.

Murtagh insisted she and Frank take the makeshift tent for the night.

“I’ll stay by the fire and keep watch,” he told her.

“You’ll need to sleep eventually,” Claire reminded him but Murtagh shrugged off her concern.

“I dinna sleep deep on the moors. There’s not much as might happen that willna wake me wi’ no time to act.”

Claire didn’t bother to argue; she helped Frank settle onto the roll of bedding before stretching out beside him. It was closer than they’d been sleeping in the cave where she preferred to rest propped against the cave wall, afraid of disturbing his much needed rest. They didn’t speak but rolled towards each other. She felt Frank’s lips brush her forehead and turned her face up to his.

There was a moment of hesitation and she realized that she hadn’t kissed him since they’d rescued him; not once. She felt a twinge of shame. After all he’d been through, she hadn’t thought to embrace him or even offer him a loving caress. She had been too wrapped up in his medical care and how Jamie was handling everything.

She reached up now and ran her fingers lightly along the stubble on Frank’s cheek. It was rougher than she anticipated. Her thumb slipped down and traced the Frank’s lower lip before he brought his mouth to meet hers.

She remembered his kiss, the warmth of his lips on hers, and the sureness behind it. She let her eyes close so that when he pulled away, he couldn’t read what she was thinking. He lightly bumped her forehead with his chin, a question.

“We should get some rest,” she whispered, her hands drifting down and lightly rubbing his upper arms. “We still have a long few days before we get to the stones.”

He smiled against her forehead, satisfied for now, then shifted and brought his bandaged arm up to hold her close to him. Her head rested on his shoulder and she felt him relax beneath her cheek. Her body relaxed too but her mind refused to settle.

She lay there entirely awake but unmoving until she was sure he slept deeply. Then gingerly, she moved his arm from off of her and rolled away.

“Are you all right?” Frank whispered. She hadn’t been subtle enough.

“Of course,” she assured him, moving to rise. “I just need to go… you know.”

There was a muffled chuckle from where he shifted himself into a more comfortable position. “That’s something you must have missed––running water and proper lavatories.”

“You have no idea,” she murmured, ducking through the flap of the tent.

Murtagh sat up from his spot beside the low campfire, his dirk in his hand until he recognized that it was only Claire.

“Mistress,” he murmured before laying back.

Claire wandered off into the woods for a moment to keep up the pretense and prayed that Frank would be asleep again by the time she got back.

How was she going to do it? How was she supposed to go back with Frank and be his wife again when every time he touched her she felt the rising shame of betrayal? She wasn’t even sure which betrayal was behind the shame. She remembered how it had been to kiss Frank before, the way it built slowly, the way her body would arch towards him. She remembered but it hadn’t been like that tonight. He had kissed her and it had been lovely but it had been a kiss like any other. She had waited and searched for that deeper stirring but it didn’t come.

There were no visible flames left in the small circle of stones they’d used to contain the fire but the spot still gave off a reassuring heat. Claire found Murtagh sitting again when she returned a few moments later.

“Ye’re bad as Jamie when he’s something on his mind,” Murtagh said, nodding to an empty space next to him.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she murmured, taking him up on the offer to put off going back in with Frank.

Claire stared into the embers of the fire. There weren’t any visible flames but a warm red color ebbed and flowed, pulsing with life. She didn’t notice but the fingers of her left hand were playing with the ring on her right, turning it in circles so the nub where the two ends had been joined orbited her middle knuckle, catching whenever she slightly bent the finger.

“Ye canna choose where yer affections lie,” Murtagh said quietly.

Claire’s fingers stilled but she wouldn’t look at Murtagh.

“But that doesna mean there isna a choice involved in what ye do about it… even if sometimes it doesna feel like it. Maybe… maybe it’s like yer stones.”

At that, Claire did look over at Murtagh, but with confusion.

“Ye didna choose to pass through them, no?” he asked.

“Of course not. I didn’t even know what had happened at first,” she agreed.

“Like falling in love,” Murtagh mused but this time there was something heavier in it, something more personal. A smile played on his lips and the way he stared into the glowing embers was like looking into a memory. He wasn’t talking about her but about someone he had loved once, maybe still did––perhaps that was why he seemed to have so much to say.

“By the time ye realize it, ye’re smack dab in the middle wi’out realizin’ how ye got there. Ye can trace yer path back and ye might come to ken the moment it happened, but ye canna always make yer way back out of it again… I dinna ken anyone tha’s chosen to go back to try to find their way out… at least, none tha’s succeeded.”

“You don’t think it will be possible to pass back through the stones?” Was it fear or hope that she heard in her voice.

Murtagh shrugged. “Dinna ken. Might depend on whether yer heart’s in it.” He looked over at her at last and she felt her face flush, grateful that the dying fire didn’t cast enough light for him to be able to see it.

“Who was she?” Claire asked, turning the conversation onto Murtagh. “The woman you couldn’t find your way out of loving.”

Murtagh looked away again and Claire was about to apologize for asking when he murmured, “Ellen MacKenzie. I doubt I was the first to love her––though, I loved her before Brian Fraser, having met her first… But he loved her the way she wanted… and needed.”

“Jamie told me about them,” Claire explained. “About the Gathering where they met.”

“Aye. Ye can see it, ye ken––no with yerself… no right away. But ye can see it in a man’s face if ye watch careful like… the moment it happens and he has to make a choice what to do next.”

“You saw it with Brian Fraser?”

Murtagh nodded. “Him… and others.” Murtagh reached forward with his dirk and poked at one of the larger pieces of wood, rolling it onto the other side. The smoldering bottom, exposed to the air but not the heat, faded to white ash even as smoke erupted from beneath as the untouched side began to burn.

“We’ve another two maybe three days till we reach the stones,” he informed her. “Best get what sleep ye can. We’ll be needin’ to keep a closer eye for Red Coats as we’re gettin’ nearer Fort William.”

Claire rose and left to join Frank in the tent. He was asleep on his side, his bandaged forearms laid gently one atop the other beside his head. She lay down and turned onto her side as well but with her back towards his.

Things I Have Done After 40 Hours Playing Breath of the Wild

Got stranded on a desert island where a disembodied voice stole all my belongings except my underpants and made me use a tree branch and a pot lid to fight a giant.

Exacerbated a woman’s paralyzing fear of dragon flies.

Met a sexy fish man. Fell in love with a sexy fish man.

Subcontracted construction labor.

EPONA!

Tried to ride a moose.

Died of moose-related injuries.

OH GOD THE GORIGNAK IS MADE OF LAVA NOW.

Checked out Zelda’s ass. Go and get it, Link my man.

Liberated a cursed skeleton horse from spiritual enslavement and rode it until the sun rose and it was able to finally pass on into Horse Heaven.

Took off my shirt because an old man asked me to.

Met some gigantic fairy women who enchanted my pants. And my heart.

Nearly sacrificed my life on a pagan altar for the sake of getting a new sword.

Made risotto.

Realized that those probably aren’t seeds they’re giving me.

Found a freaky spirit goat thing. Rode on it.

Set things on fire. Set everything on fire.

A new start, part 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 1856

Warnings: Language and a little angst

A/N:  This is set after the first Avengers movie, before the Winter Soldier.  An actress experiences betrayal from someone she loves. This is the story of her finding a new start. 

“I am headed out now. I promise I will meet you in Tennessee in a few days.  You know how the studio gets if I am late.  Love you babe.”  Your boyfriend, David, quickly ended the call as you drove towards his Los Angeles home. The whole reason for the call was let him know you had to stop at his house to grab one of your dresses and the script for the movie you were starting in a week.  You tried calling back but it went straight to voicemail.

“Ugh, fine.  I will just grab the stuff and head to the airport.” You were running behind but you could not leave without the script.  The producers would be pissed if they had to overnight you another copy right before you started filming.  The ride to his house was thankfully short, as you seemed to have scooted around most of the midday traffic.  When you pulled up you noticed his car was still in the driveway along with another one you did not recognize.  A bad feeling started creeping up your spine but you pulled out the key to his house and let yourself inside.  The first thing you heard was a female laugh coming from the kitchen.  Your stomach dropped.  As you entered, the kitchen you found a woman dressed only in what was probably one of David’s shirts with her legs wrapped around his hips, laughing as he kissed her neck.  You stood there for a moment in utter shock staring at the pair, before you could actually make a sound.

“Umm yeah sorry.  I think I came in at the wrong time.” David turned to look at you with horror all over his face.  He dropped the woman on the counter and walked towards you with his hands out in front of him, as if to keep you from hitting him.  It was then you saw he was only dressed in a pair of thin boxers.

“Oh my God, [Y/N]. What are you doing here?  I thought you were headed to the airport. This isn’t..”  You put your hand up stopping him.

“Don’t even try.  This is exactly what it looks like, asshole.  And I’m pretty sure she was on the cover of the last Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.” The woman piped up from behind David.

“It was the Victoria’s Secret spring catalog.”  You gave a short, fake laugh.

“Even better.  A Victoria’s Secret model.”  Rolling your eyes you turned around heading towards the stairs to his bedroom.  He followed you, begging you to listen to any of the half-assed excuses he could think of. You pulled out a bag you kept there for your clothes, filling it with every item you could find that belonged to you.  A few times, you had to step around her clothes that had been strewn about the room. After a few minutes of you ignoring him, he finally stopped trying to convince you otherwise of what he had done. He had pulled on a tee shirt and jeans before sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.  As you finished packing the last of you things, you stopped to look at him, his back towards you.  Up until that moment, you had been fueled on pure shock and adrenaline. Now looking at the man who you had spent the last year loving, your heart broke.  The pressure in your chest leading to the tears that started falling down your cheeks.

“Goodbye, David.  I hope you find what makes you happy.  I know I am not it.”  Half way down the stairs, he came running.  You could hear the tears in his voice.

“[Y/N/N], please!  I am so sorry.  It was a huge mistake.  Let’s talk this out.  You mean so much to me.  Please.” You sniffed at the tears that were still falling from your eyes.  Shaking your head with a sad smile.

“This broke anything that was there of us.  You went out of your way to lie and deceive.  There isn’t a way back from that.”  With the bag over your shoulder, you walked out the front door with David standing there watching you leave.  The girl in his tee shirt forgotten for the moment.

As you drove away, you released the rest of the emotions that had been fighting to get out. Sobbing as you headed in the direction of the airport.  You weren’t even sure you would make it on time, but at this point, you didn’t care. Everything inside you hurt and all you wanted was to crawl in bed to sleep for a few days.  Or until some of the pain went away.  

You did make it to the airport on time.  The car was dropped off and you checked in for your flight.  Not bothering to take off your sunglasses as you showed your ticket and identification.  The ticket agent giving an oddly anxious look as she realized who you were.  “Oh Miss [Y/L/N] right this way.  We will make sure no one notices you.”  With the help of TSA and the ticket agent, you were seated quickly onto the plane.  You knew you must have looked awful with the red tear swollen eyes and no makeup.  It did not matter.  You just wanted to get back to the comfort and safety of home. The day needed to be over.

The days that followed only grew worse.  After the first two days of crying, feeling sorry for yourself, and venting to your best friend, the press got wind of the breakup.  Seems the model had a big mouth and told her story to anyone that would listen. She was proud of the fact that she had stolen away the popular actor from his actress girlfriend.  David was being portrayed as a man whore, who broke your heart.  Your publicist was going crazy because you refused to comment on any of it.   The phone never seemed to stop ringing or alerting with texts messages.  Your parents, your manager, friends, even David would not stop trying to call or text.  David, you simply ignored every time, deleted all his texts without reading. Everyone else pretty much got a short dry answer that would have to do for the moment.

You weren’t ready for someone to knock on your front door.  Though you should have known, it was coming.  Your dad stood there in the doorway waiting for you to let him in. You hadn’t said a word, just standing there biting on your lower lip trying to keep the tears at bay.  When he opened his arms, you lost it.  You moved close and felt him envelop you just as he always had when you needed him.  “Oh, daddy…”

“It’s okay, sugar. You are going to be just fine in a little while.  You will find someone who is worthy of your time and your heart.  I promise you.”  He held onto you, as if his life depended on it.  After the tears had finally stopped he pulled back to look down at you.  “Better baby?”  You nodded wiping the wetness from your cheeks.  “Good, how about some coffee and we can talk?”

The two of you talked for a while.  The whole sad story coming out.  You father grumbled a bit through the worst parts of it, threatening to kill David and hide the body somewhere on his extensive property.  You laughed for the first time in days, telling him it wasn’t worth the effort but you appreciated the sentiment.  Before too long he left for home, which was only a half mile away around the pond.  The rest of the week, you kept yourself busy with packing, working your lines and trying to keep your mind off everything that had happened.  It was difficult, but you tried.  You rode your horses and fed the goats.  Took your truck for a ride through the mud a few times just to have a little fun.  Kaley, your assistant and close friend came over several times for coffee and business, making sure the two of you did not fall into that hole of talking about certain people.

When the end of the week came and it was time to head to North Carolina for your new movie. You were still sad but you were no longer crying all day.  The movie was set in the early 40’s during World War II and was about a couple who fall in love and are ultimately separated when he goes off to fight. You liked the part that the story was narrated by the couple’s granddaughter as she was reading the love letters sent between them during the war.  Telling the stories of growing up together, falling in love, marrying against their parents’ wishes and bringing their son into the world.  Right now, you thought the movie was exactly what you needed to help you get over David.  There had been a last minute recast for the character of Thomas, your character’s love interest.  The original actor had to drop because of a previous commitment.  Your new costar was Chris Evans.  Of course, the entire world knew who he was, but you had never personally met him.  The hope was that he was going to be easy to work with and you wouldn’t have to stress making this movie.

You left the rented beach house early in the morning to make sure you were on set on time.  This morning was costume fitting, and then meeting the hair and makeup staff to ensure the right styles and colors were used for your skin tone.  A rather sweet and brightly styled woman was measuring your inseam when you heard a knock on the open trailer door.  A male’s voice calling out, “Hope I’m in the right place.  I was told this is where I needed to get my measurements done.”  You turned to see short blond hair and bright blue eyes.  He stopped short in the doorway once he saw you standing there with Marion at your feet. A wide beautiful smile crossed his lips. “Oh sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Marion looked up from the floor.  

“You didn’t sweetie. Go over there and take a seat.  Me and [Y/N] here are almost done.”  Chris did not take a seat.  He walked towards you will that smile firmly in place.  He held his hand out to you as he spoke.  

“I’m Chris, seems we are going to be falling in love here.  I mean…Our characters are going to fall in love here. For the movie.  Yeah the movie. Wow, I’m an asshole. I am sorry.” You shook his hand laughing.  He was cute and goofy and he had made you laugh. Especially now that was welcome.

“I’m [Y/N].  It’s nice to meet you Chris.  You aren’t an asshole.  Everyone has times where their minds and mouths don’t talk to each other before something silly comes out.”  He grinned though you thought you could see a blush on his cheeks.

“[Y/N], I think we are going to get along just fine.”

Part 2

Such a sissy faggot.

I’m such a sissy faggot. I was up all night.
I rode the white horse. To each there own. Know your limits. I’ve said before and it’s in my older posts.
A little of that and I go into total sissy slut mode.
I was a very naughty sissy. I sucked off one guy early.
Had another friend fuck me hard later in the evening from behind up against the back of his BMW.

I ended the night with everyone gone. Still just on cloud nine and fucked myself into oblivion on my 11’ dildo stuck to the floor.

I orgasmed so hard at the end my knees were shaking.
Seriously. I can’t even explain it. I had Sissymaster 3 from emperor hypnosis playing loud. I was on it to the hilt just bouncing. Rocking.
Just incredible.

I seriously have a cunt. I didn’t touch my clit once. It just drooled so much cummies.

I feel so free when I orgasm. Accepting what I am.


Love you all. Going to rest.

God damn my cunt is gaped.

Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy (Faraday x Reader) NSFW

Originally posted by aleclightwqqd

THERE ARE NO SPOILERS IN THIS FIC

WARNING: NSFW


“How much?”

“Two bits for the cheap stuff, three dollars for the good stuff.”

You were too busy cleaning the aftermath of a fight to bother looking up. The voice didn’t sound familiar, but then again, most didn’t. People were always drifting in and out of town. It was rare to see a face stick around for more than three days, and even rarer for you to bother recognizing it.

“Hey Johnny, you got two bits on ya? Gonna buy me a whore for the night.” The stranger could barely finish his sentence without bursting into hysterics, and you could hear a few others join in. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the joke, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it still stung.

“Either drink or get out,” you replied coldly as you continued wiping down the bar, careful to avoid the broken glass.  

“She’s got some fight in her! I like it. A buck. I think you’re worth a whole buck.”

“Alright now listen,” you hissed as you finally stopped what you were doing to meet his eye line. He was an ugly looking guy, just as you expected. His beard was long and mangled. He was missing a few teeth. You weren’t sure when the last time he bathed was. Disgusting. “I think it’s best you leave.”

“Oh yeah?” He stood up, placing one hand on his gun, and grabbing your wrist with the other. You winced a bit as he tightened his grip. He’d pinned your hand down hard against a large shard of glass. “How about no money but instead I let you keep that pretty little head of yours.”  

“Fuck,” you mumbled as panic started to set in. Men made lewd comments all the time, and on nearly a daily basis they got in fights with each other, but never had one gotten physical with you. In all honesty, you considered yourself relatively lucky. With the trash that drifted through here, you were surprised nobody tried anything sooner.

“ ‘Scuse me, but I’m gonna need you to move aside. I’m trying to order a drink from this here lady.”

The man blinked and turned his head. Resting against the bar was yet another man you didn’t recognize. This one seemed calm and collected, but you still caught a spark of wildfire in the corner of his eye.

“The hell you think you’re doin’, Faraday? You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you dead after you cheated back there at poker.”

Keep reading

If Music Be The Food Of Love

I’ve never written anything before, so be gentle with me! But I was thinking about Outlander and the little things that make up our lives everyday that Claire (or myself) would miss when she fell through the stones. For me, I think the thing I would miss most is music. :) I think this little moment takes place just before Jamie and Claire leave Lallybroch in Dragonfly in Amber to go visit Lord Lovat. Read, enjoy, give me some feedback!

@bonnie-wee-swordsman, @writtenthroughtime, @lenny9987, @gotham-ruaidh, @takemeawaytocamelot, @westerhos, @dingbatland would love if you would read! If you like it, reblog? :)


The bright lights blinded Claire to all but the first rows of onlooking audience members. She stood tall and took a deep, calming breath. The conductor raised his arms, and as one they began. She felt herself dissolve into the choir, as though they shared one mind for the space of the song. She could feel the deep, rumbling tones of the bass line, accompanied by the light, fluttering notes from the soprano section. And in the center of the intonations, she found the place where she belonged, where she fit perfectly.

The harmony line danced around the melody, jumping to meet it and then darting away. She knew this song well, had sung it a hundred times in rehearsal. While she sang, she lost herself in the rolling waves of music. She couldn’t tell where her voice ended and the rest of the choir began. As the song swelled into a crescendo around her, she felt whole. She could feel the song gently caress her, wrap it’s arms around her as though it were a physical being, holding her tight and safe.  

She awoke with the strains of the song just outside of her conscious hearing. If she concentrated she could almost feel the perfect locking in of the last chord. A chord that was not only pleasing to the ear, but somehow made the heart feel whole. The dancing lines of melody and harmony, dipping and weaving together in a constant exchange. An expression of emotion so much stronger than mere words or actions. But now she couldn’t recall the flowing melody that flitted around the edges of her brain. She couldn’t share the simple song that was pulsing through her veins. The knowledge of that nearly crushed her. Left her lonelier for her own time than she had been in a long, long time.

Why hadn’t she paid attention more to the small details that comprised her life before? How could she have taken for granted the simplicity of written music? She could never reproduce the notes and chords of the compositions she longed to hear, that had not even been written yet. And even if she could somehow replicate those songs, how would she play them? She had no piano, no instrument other than her own singular voice. There was a good chance she would never again hear the perfection of a chord that holds your soul and then releases it just as quickly.

She closed her eyes and let the waves of bitter longing wash over her. She would allow herself this small moment of remembrance for her time before coming back to reality. Reaching over, she felt Jamie, warm and strong, lying beside her. She could live with the lost memories of music so long she had him beside her.

Claire’s touch on his arm woke Jamie. He looked over at his wife, a sleepy smile on his face. He reached over, caressing her face with his large, callous hands.

“What are ye thinkin’ about, mo nighean donn? Ye have that far off look in yer eyes. Where are ye?” Claire looked down, not wanting to meeting his eyes. She sat up in their bed, stretching the sleepiness from her limbs.

“It was just a dream, from before. It’s nothing important.” Sitting up with her, Jamie stroked her back. She leaned into his touch, wanting the comfort of something familiar and solid.

“Sassenach, every thought ye have is important to me.” He turned to hold her chin in his hands, forcing her eyes to look at him. “Please, tell me what’s causing that troublin’ look in yer eyes. Let me help ye.”

Claire looked deep into her husband’s slanted blue eyes. Telling him would not bring back the music she dreamt of. And even if it did, Jamie could not hear the music she wanted to share with him so much. He could understand the fact that there was music playing, but he couldn’t make sense of the sounds. The only music Jamie could hear at all was the rhythmic beating of a drum. But still, Jamie understood the words and meaning of the music, even if he could not make sense of the scales that were being played.

Jamie’s hand moved from her cheek down to hold her hand between his, comfort flowing from his touch. Her eyes followed the motion, looking at her hand in his.

“It’s silly really. Just a dream.” She paused, wondering if that was enough of an explanation. Jamie held her gaze, waiting for her to continue. Claire took a deep breath, going on.

“I was dreaming about music. I was on stage, singing with the choral group I was a part of, back in my time. We were performing a song we had sung a million times in rehearsal, a song that I loved. The dream was so real, I could feel the music, could feel the resonance in my chest. It was perfect. I woke up, and I couldn’t remember how the song went. I’m thinking about it now, and I still can’t recall it.” She was getting worked up, and a single tear slid down her cheek as she said “And I can’t ask anyone to help me think of it, because the song hasn’t been written yet here in this time. And even if I could figure out the name of the song, how could I replicate it? I’m just me, how could I replicate harmony?”

She kept her gaze down, feeling silly that she was so emotional about something that was so selfish. What could music do to help stop Bonnie Prince Charlie and the disaster that would be Culloden? Jamie brought one hand up to wipe away the tears that now spilled freely from her eyes.

“Sassenach, I’d no idea -” Claire gently pulled her hand away from him, struggling to untangle herself from the sheets as she rose from the bed. She didn’t want to cry in front of him, feeling selfish about wanting something that was so clearly not a necessity. They were here in Lallybroch, getting ready to march with the soldiers, and all she could think about was wanting to hear a song.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure why I am crying over something so simple.” She walked out of their room quickly, going outside to feel the crisp morning air on her skin and to avoid any more questions.  

Jamie watched her go. He ached to fill that void for her. She had given up so much for him, and never once complained. Claire truly was an amazing woman. He wanted to give her a fraction of what she had given him: love, support, and comfort. He would give her anything, as he had vowed those years ago at their wedding ceremony. Yet music…the one thing he could not physically bring to her himself. He cursed the day he had been struck in the head, knocking the ability to hear and understand music out of his head.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. He may not be able to recreate the sounds she remembered, but he could give her something else. He dressed quickly in his plaid, pulled on his boots, and raced to the stables to get a horse. As he rode, he made a list in his head of the houses he needed to visit, hoping everything would fall into place by evening.

——————————————————————————————

Claire stayed outside most of the day, keeping her distance from the other residence of Lallybroch. She didn’t want her melancholy mood to rub off onto anyone else. She worked in the garden, collecting herbs and plants that she would need to treat the ailments of the soldiers as they traveled. As she worked, she hummed a simple children’s song to herself. It bothered her that she couldn’t hum the song from her dream. Why was she still thinking about music and songs in a time like this?

Looking up, Claire saw Jamie striding towards her. The setting sun cast his hair in a shade of deep auburn, with tinges of gold and copper sprinkled throughout. Claire smiled as arrived at her side and held his hand out for her.

“Ye’ve been working mighty hard out here today Sassenach. It’s time for supper, no?”

“I suppose you’re right. I am rather hungry.”

Leading her towards the house on his arm, Jamie seemed to have an excited energy about him. Usually, he was calm and collected, especially here at his home in Lallybroch. Claire wondered what he could have been up to all day. Maybe he had been working on plans to move his men to Lord Lovat’s land with Murtaugh.

As they rounded the final turn from the garden to Lallybroch, Claire came to a complete stop. Standing on the steps of the house were a dozen men in formation, all dressed in full Highland Scots regalia. Each man held a bagpipe in his arms waiting to play. Leading her forward, Jamie gave the men a signal, and they began to play.

(Play song here and continue reading for the full effect!)

Claire felt as though she were floating forward towards to music, the familiar tune of Amazing Grace pulling her closer. As she got close enough to see the faces of the men, she noticed she recognized them. These were the men Jamie would be traveling with to Lord Lovat’s lands. As her gaze drifted to the men on the end, she was surprised to see Murtaugh standing with the men, bagpipe in hand, playing with all the gusto he could muster.

She didn’t realize she was crying until Jamie handed her his handkerchief, wrapping his arms around her from behind and settling his head in the crook of her neck and slowly rocking her back and forth. Claire closed her eyes, letting the song become burned into her memory. When the song finally came to an end, she applauded loudly, and went up to each of the men to thank them.

As the men began to walk back towards their homes, Jamie shook each of their hands in thanks. As Murtaugh passed her, Claire gave him the warmest embrace she had ever given the man. She never imaged that Murtaugh could play the bagpipes, let alone play them so well. When all the men had all left, Claire turned to Jamie, embracing him as tightly as she could.

“Jamie, I can’t believe you put this together for me.” She said into his chest.

“Sassenach,” he said, pulling away to look down into her eyes. “Yer heart is my heart. Whatever it is ye want, if it is in my power to give it to ye, I’ll see it done.” He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to her lips. “Now, shall we see about that supper?”

She smiled, placed her hand in his arm, and together they walked into the house.




P.S. - I know the song not historically accurate and wouldn’t technically be written until 1779, but it felt right here. :)

I Promise (Robb Stark x Reader)

anonymous asked: Can I get a Robb x reader where the reader is hurt and Robb has to patch them up? 

A/N: This is my first time writing for Robb (I’ve had brief experience, but that was only a two hundred word drabble that I ended up hating.) so if he seems a bit out of character, that’s why. 

Warning(s): None that I can think of, besides blood and gore. I won’t go into too much detail, but of course everyone has a different idea on how much is too much. 
Note: Gif is not mine. 

Originally posted by rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts

For as long as you could remember, you and Robb Stark were close. The two of you spent your childhood sneaking off together. Though you were low-born, he did not care. You were friends, regardless. 

You could handle yourself quite well, too. The two of you used to practice sword fighting together, and along with that, he taught you how to properly ride a horse. This became a part of your routine as you grew up; you’d meet in your special place in the woods, long past the god’s wood, by a small, usually frozen-over lake that became something of a place of solace for you. 

The lake became more than that, too. It was the place that Robb first confessed his love to you, as well as the place where the two of you first kissed, and because of this, it became the place where the two of you could go to be alone. You met everyday there, just to get a break from the world, so that you could be alone with each other. 

Today was no different. As the sun neared the horizon, you rode off into the woods on your horse to wait for him. 

Time passed, and he still had yet to show. The sun was beginning to kiss the horizon, sinking so that it was barely touching it. It would be dark soon, and you did not want, or need, to be stuck there at night. You thought of the stories of beasts and monsters you were told as a child. Stories of the beasts that lurked within the woodlands, waiting to catch anyone who was alone at night to strike, before they were dragged off to never be seen again. 

The thought sent a chill down your spine. You jumped as you heard a twig snap to your right, just beyond the trees. Instantly, you whipped around, your lousy dagger gripped tightly in your hands. 

“Who’s there?” You shouted, only to receive silence in return. 

Sighing, you chuckled lightly to yourself while you sheathed your dagger. You were freaking yourself out. Robb obviously wasn’t coming, so you might as well return home. 

Just as you began to mount your horse, you felt someone tug the back of your cloak, throwing you down onto the hard, cold ground. Your shout caught in your throat as you struggled to catch your breath from the fall. 

Above you stood an older, gross looking man. His darkened beard was streaked with grey hairs that matched the hair atop his head, both matted with dirt and mud. He looked disgusting, you thought. Before you could say anything to him, he grabbed a handful of your hair and began to drag you across the ground. 

“You must be a rich one, eh?” He grunted, completely ignoring your thrashing.

“Let go! Damn you!” You managed to curse at him, your hands struggling against his grip. It was useless; he was holding on too tightly. You gave up and instead managed to grab your dagger from it’s sheath. 

As soon as you had it within your grasp, you let out a cry of anger and lashed out at his hand with it. You managed to slice along the back of his hand, spilling his blood onto your face. He shouted curses but held tighter, and you struck at him again. This time, your blade sliced his wrist, and he let go.

Not before he ripped out a fist full of your hair. You could see blood sticking to the hair in his hand, where he ripped it from your scalp. That was the least of your worries, however. The man was recovering, and he was angry. You were on your knees, wobbly as you began to panic. Just as you caught your footing, the man slammed into you, knocking you back down. 

He had his own blade in hand now, which he pressed to your throat. 

“Stop struggling, bitch!” He shouted. 

The blade pressed into your throat, cutting enough to form a bead of blood. He had you pinned down, but unluckily for him, his crotch was just above your legs. You screamed at him and jerked your knees up, hitting him between the legs.

The man shouted and fell over, balling up, while you stood with your dagger back in hand. Just as quickly as he was down, the man got back up and struck at you angrily with his sword. 

You managed to block his swing with your dagger, but only for a split second. Your dagger was thrown from your hand, and as it fell, he took advantage. He swung at you again, and you barely had time to throw your arms up to block it.

The blade sliced through your arms, cutting deeply. The bleeding began almost instantly, along with the pain. You cried out, barely getting to recover before he had you pressed against a tree, sword back at your throat. You gripped the blade of it with your hands, not caring as it cut into your palms. 

You didn’t know what he intended to do with you, but you assumed he believed you were a high-born. This was untrue, but he did not know this. Anyone could look at you and tell that you were, in fact, low born. Well, anyone from Westeros, anyway. You assumed this man was a wildling, or at the very least, a beggar. Some poor man who probably intended to use you for ransom. 

“Let me go, or so help you, my father will-”

“I don’t care who your father is, fool.” The man growled in your face. His breath was foul, the smell alone was enough to make you gag.

You were tired of being attacked, but more than anything, you wanted him to get his nasty breath out of your face. 

So, abruptly, you headbutted him. The man stumbled back, screaming various curses at you as he held his head. You were able to knock his sword from his hand. 

… Although that pissed him off further.

He let out a battle cry and punched you square in the nose, busting it and causing you to lose your balance. You fell flat on your back, and the man wailed on you, kicking, punching, and slapping you. You felt your ribs crack, along with other parts of your body. 

You don’t know how long you lay there, balled up, letting the man wail on you. You could feel the fight inside of you leaving with every kick, and you wondered if you were going to die. 

Suddenly, there was a shout. You looked up right as someone sliced clean through the man’s stomach, spilling blood and his insides onto you. As he fell, you recognized Robb standing behind him. 

“You finally came.” You tried to smile, but passed out before you could manage a full one. 

***

You awoke screaming in pain as a hot blade was pressed against a deep cut on your forearm, sealing it shut. You felt someone beside you, gripping your hand tightly.

“Seven Hells!” you recognized Robb’s voice shouting beside you. “Why is she awake? I thought you gave her the milk of the poppy!” 

You were too disoriented to say anything, and a low mumble was all you could manage. Through all of the blurriness and pain, you could see the outline of Robb’s worried expression looking down at you. 

“(Y/N), I know it hurts but you have to let him finish.” He said. You managed a soft nod, before Robb held out a flask to you. You drank from it, realizing it was more milk of the poppy. 

You felt yourself drifting off to sleep just as the maester said: 

“Again, we are not done quite yet.”

***

You awoke again sometime later, your body aching, but not nearly as bad as before. Robb was still beside you, holding your hand. 

“What… happened?” You croaked. You hadn’t realized how hoarse your voice was, but Robb did. He looked at you sadly and handed you a cup of water, which you drank quickly. You felt much better as you finished off the water, returning the cup to him.

“You were attacked. The man, we don’t know who he was, but I killed him. How do you feel?” 

“Sore.” 

Robb laughed at that and planted a soft kiss on your forehead. His smile slowly faded and he looked down.

“I’m sorry. It took me too long to get there. If I had been there sooner, this-”

“Robb.” You cut him off, shaking your head. “It is not your fault. He came out of nowhere, there is no way you could have known what would happen. 

“Promise me you won’t go into the woods alone again.” He said.

You nodded slowly, reassuringly squeezing his hand. “I promise.” 

Tale As Old As Time {Remus Lupin x Reader}

I just watched Beauty and the Beast the other day and it was so good!! I almost cried!! I wanted to waltz afterwards but I had no one to dance with lol. #foreversingle

Anyway, hope y'all will like this one. I will finish the anonymous requests tomorrow and I might open requests again.

Enjoy!

AU where Remus is the Beast and reader is Belle. WARNING: MAY CONTAIN PLOT TWISTS. FLUFF.

@allertonn

Physical appearances could be quite deceiving and the lesson was no stranger to (Y/n). She was considered a freak in her town because of her passion in reading and though she was quite lovely, everybody resented her strangeness. She felt quite alone until she met the rumored beast that terrorized the town.

She was expecting to find a large, sharp-fanged creature with red eyes and long claws but certainly not a tall boy with scars on his face while shivering in the snow.

She had known him for a long time as her friend in the forest but she never knew about his lycanthropy until she saw him shift back into his human form. She helped him get up after he defended her from the other wolves, receiving multiple bites. His arm hung around her neck as he tried to stand up weakly.

“(Y/n), you don’t have to do this.” He groaned in pain, trying to get back on his feet.

“Remus, you saved my life. The least I could do is take care of you.” (Y/n) replied, “Now, where do you live?”

“Up in the castle. I uh, work there to tend to my master’s horses while he’s away.” He lied but (Y/n) did not notice a thing. She placed him on her horse and rode off quietly, taking a safer route to the castle.

As soon as they reached the gate, she got down from the horse and assisted Remus to the door. A black dog came running up to them, sniffing his master’s wounds and whimpering.

“I’m alright, Padfoot. Don’t worry.” Remus said. The two entered the empty and dusty home while the dog led them to the bedroom. She put him down gently and started cutting through the cloth of his shirt where she found older scars.

(Y/n) did not say a word and began to wipe him down with a damp cloth.

“I suppose you don’t want to talk to me anymore after what you just saw,” he said, looking at the window that showed a beautiful view of the white snow.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Remus. Now, this will hurt a bit,” she pressed the cloth on one of the bite marks on his arm, making him hiss and close his eyes. His grip tightened on the sheets and his teeth grinded together.

The dog whined at the sight of his master in pain and tried to cheer him up by resting his chin on the mattress.

After she was finished, she bandaged his wounds and helped him put on a fresh, new shirt from the wardrobe. She sat by his side and brushed away his hair from his face.

“Will you please stay with me, (Y/n)? I’m scared to be alone,” he said as he rubbed circles on her hand with his thumb.

“Of course, Remus. I promise I’ll stay with you until you get better. I’m sure my father will understand.” She smiled. Her father was a kind man who liked to invent things and paint and though he would most likely worry, he would surely understand the circumstances. Of course, he cannot know about Remus’s lycanthropy.

(Y/n) hummed Remus a lullaby until he fell asleep. It was truly unfortunate that such a sweet person suffered from a condition that turned him into a raging monster every full moon. Nonetheless, she kept her promise and everyday, after her chores, she would return to his lonely castle and keep him company.

She enjoyed being around him and many months had passed, she would still visit him even after his scars had healed and they would read together in the castle’s enormous library. She would help clean up and tidy the place while Remus assisted her. Through this time, things began to change between them.

At first, it was the glances and the long stares before one of them notices and blushes instantly. Remus would let her read to him and when their fingers would touch together, it created a spark that neither could explain except that it would make them smile. (Y/n) was very compassionate towards him and despite the many instances he warned her that he could hurt her, she refused to leave his side.

After she left, Remus sat down in the dining hall with a dog, a cat, and a rat. The black dog slowly began to shift in his human form effortlessly and sat by Remus’ side.

“So, any plans, Moony?” He asked.

“What plans?”

“Aren’t you going to pull off any moves? You like her, don’t you?”

“I do but I’m not sure if she likes me.”

The rat crawled from beneath the chair and shifted as well, sitting beside Sirius. He smirked at Remus, his large front teeth showing as he smiled.

“Of course she likes you. We’ve seen the way she looks at you. Plus, she wouldn’t have stayed if she didn’t like you.”

“Wormtail’s right. So what’s your move?”

“Look guys, I think she’s happy with just staying as friends.” Remus said, looking down at his empty plate.

“But are you happy with that?” Sirius asked which struck Remus. He wanted more than just being friends but how was he supposed to know if the feeling was mutual? He wanted to see for it himself and not just from his friends.

But how?

He began to fidget at the question when he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Master Lupin, if you’re not sure, might I suggest something? Like a romantic gesture?” McGonagall said. “Perhaps some flowers?”

“It’s gonna take more than just flowers, Minerva. We need something grander!”

“Wait, I haven’t agreed to this yet–”

“Yeah! Like a dinner! A fancy one!” Peter clapped excitedly, “Oh, I do love food!”

“Yeah, no shit, Wormtail!” Sirius beamed sarcastically, “We might need Prongs’s help for this. Poor buck’s freezing outside in the stables. Anyway, don’t worry about it, Moony! We’ll come up with something.”

“Sirius, as much as I’d love to, how can we know if this will work?”

“We just have to keep our hopes up.”

It was completely ridiculous but if it was the only way to find out, he hoped that this plan would work. He finally agreed and went up to his room and in his bed, he couldn’t help but feel the excitement rush through his veins. As he closed his eyes, he began to picture (Y/n) and her beautiful smile that had brought him the light he had been searching for for years. He felt his heart beat wildly than it ever did in his entire life. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

(Y/n) arrived in the afternoon at the castle when Remus opened up the huge doors for her.

“Bonjour, (Y/n).” He chuckled, pulling her in an embrace.

“Bonjour, Remus.” She smiled, kissing his cheek. “Sorry I’m late. My father went to the other town to sell his paintings and I had to help him. So what are we doing today? Should we finish Romeo & Juliet?”

“Not today, (Y/n). Today is something special.”

“How so?”

Remus closed the door behind her and led her upstairs, the black dog trailing after them happily. “Well, I wanted to have some fun and it occurred to me, we have never used the ballroom before.”

“But will it be alright for your master?”

“What he doesn’t know, won’t kill him.” Remus smirked.

(Y/n) chuckled and followed him to a room at the end of the hall. It was a beautiful room with a painting of the night sky on the ceiling and a large wardrobe standing by the bed. Remus turned to her and brushed her hair over her ear. Her cheeks immediately turned red at the contact.

“Try on some clothes and I’ll meet you downstairs in an hour, alright?” He said before taking his leave. As soon as he disappeared, (Y/n) looked around the room and smiled to herself before opening the wardrobe.

Her eyes widened at the dress, and quite honestly, the only dress inside. It was a yellow gown and (Y/n) did not wait for another minute and decided to try it on. The two prepared themselves for each other, trying to look their best for this special time. The sun had gone down and the crescent moon had risen from its sleep by the time they were finished.

Sirius secretly shifted into his human form and prepared the ballroom, lighting the candles and making sure everything was perfect for the occasion.

(Y/n) descended from the stairs to meet Remus who waited for her in his blue suit with a red rose tucked in his breast pocket. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Remus felt his heart beat against his chest uncontrollably as he watched her, admiring every single detail about her that makes her the way she is. She smiled at him, her cheeks pink.

“What’s this all about?”

Remus only bowed low and held out his hand for her, “May I have this dance?”

(Y/n) felt the butterflies in her stomach flutter wildly. She breathed deep before she answered a “Yes” when Remus placed his hand on her waist while hers rested on his shoulder.

They began to dance around the ballroom beneath the glass ceiling, showing the evening sky decorated with stars. Remus twirled her around before pulling her back gently into his chest. It was a moment he would truly never forget and to have this time spent with her was a dream come true. They moved with matching rhythm and with perfect synchronization, their eyes never leaving each other’s. It scared Remus to not know about how she felt for him, fearing it was one-sided, but now that she was in front of him, he was quite sure that there was something in those eyes that wasn’t there before.

He leaned in to her left ear as they continued dancing slowly, swaying side by side.

“(Y/n), can I tell you something?”

“Anything, Remus.” She whispered.

“I’m a little scared of what will happen from now but I want to tell you how I truly feel. I think I’ve fallen for you, (Y/n). Ever since you began to visit me more often and we would read books to each other or just play around in the snow, I started developing feelings for you.” He pulled back to look at her face, brushing her hair over her ear once more and placing a gentle hand on her cheek, “I’m in love with you, (Y/n).”

(Y/n) blushed at his confession, her eyes staring back at his hazel ones.

“Please tell me you feel the same.” Remus said, pressing his forehead against hers.

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck as she swallowed her fears and listened to the beat of her heart. He kept his hands on her waist while slowly inching closer to her until she finally felt him press his soft pair of lips against hers right after he heard the words he had been anticipating to hear throughout the evening.

“I love you too, Remus Lupin.”

They spent the rest of their night joyously dancing until it was time for (Y/n) to come home. Remus placed a kiss on the back of her hand and smiled before saying good night to his one and only true love.

Lindworm

@ofhealinglove You don’t know me and I don’t know you well, but I know you like MadaSaku and life can suck, but MadaSaku always makes things better for me. Story is inspired by the folktale of the Lindworm. I hope you like it.


Once upon a time a queen fell into despair after many years of being unable to carry a child. Her kingdom was without an heir and her home devoid of sweet children. She was weeping in the garden when an old woman approached her, asking about her tears. When the queen told the old woman it was because she was barren the old woman held out a pair of pruning sheers.

“Go into your garden and you will find one red rose and one white rose. If you eat the white rose you will bear a girl, the red rose will give you a son, but be warned, you must only eat one of these roses, to devour both would be unwise.”

“The queen does as the old woman instructs and finds the roses in her garden. Thinking it over, the queen plucks the red rose and eats it, thinking of her future son. But then her heart begins to long for a daughter, and before she can remember the old woman’s warning, she devours the white rose as well.

“Nine months pass and soon comes the time for the queen to deliver her child. Heavy with child, she labors for many hours before she is able to push her child free, but a babe does not greet the midwives. With a roar like that of a fire’s, a lindworm slithers from her room and snakes out the window in wings of long leather. Following the worm, the queen discharges a healthy human boy, wailing in crying. The queen swears her midwives to secrecy and all is well in the land for seventeen and a half odd years.

But then the noble prince grows up and is taken with the heart for adventure of the most rewarding kind. He wishes to find a wife to make his heart sing. With his father’s blessing, he prepares to depart on such a journey when on the road the mighty dragon blocks their path. With the words of moral men the dragon demands a bride as is his birthright. The prince tries three more times, and the same even occurs. Bringing this news home, the queen finally breaks down and reveals her treachery. Yes, the monster is truly her son, and her first born. The young son may not marry until the eldest is taken with a bride.

The king sends for princess of far off kingdoms to please his worm son, but one after the other, they are eaten by the monster on their wedding night. Distraught and in a panic as to what they can do with their son, the king and queen begin kidnapping girls from nearby villages to wed to their son, praying one will break the curse and satisfy his desires.

“And that’s how I ended up here, isn’t it?” Sakura asked with a wicked smirk.

Staring wide eyed, the chancellor gaped openly for a good solid minute before recovering. Pushing his glasses up, the dark haired man squeaked. “Rumors being what they are, there is always exaggeration to be found-“

“Cut the bull, Iruka, I don’t buy it.  Get to the point of what you wanted to say earlier.”

Iruka, to his credit, looked ashamed. “Beg your pardon, but I suspect the allure of marrying into royalty would not move you to give yourself over. I’m sorry, but you are the only one of our staff that does not have a father to speak for her. You’ve been with us only a month, but you’ve never had post or visitors and you don’t go into town. You won’t be…missed.”

Sakura frowned, crossing her arms over her chest and staring out to the side at the gardens she was tending. Her hands were dirty, and her dress was little more than rags fit for working in. She hadn’t tried to look nice in her new office of employment, in fact, she had purposely tied up her hair and kept it wrapped under and scarf so that no one would see it and remember her for it. She liked to remain unnoticed and be the person people forgot about first. It made travel from one place to another easy. 

At least, that’s how she felt when she was working on jobs. When she was freelancing, she was a whole other story.

“Do I have a choice in any of this, or are you going to seize me in the night and drag me gagged and bound before his highness?”

Iruka stuttered. “I-I am so sorry, my good lady. Isn’t there anything you might want? To live as a princess for even a day is more than some girls can hope for.”

“Ah,” Sakura mused, exaggerating the tapping of her chin in thought. “But it is only for one day. To live for one more day, what would I trade for that?”

Iruka looked off to the side and Sakura followed his line of sight to the guards who patrolled back and forth on shifts that rotated ever four to six hours. Poor Iruka, to be the man who strong-arms the girls into this deadly fate.

“I guess there are some things I want. If the king will give these to me, I will consent and marry his worm of a son without complaint.”

“You will?” Iruka’s eyes were almost as wide as when she first recounted the story that had been so closely guarded. Not even the kitchen staff could speak or hear of it, and the kitchen staff knew nearly everything. “W-w-whatever you want, it is yours, the king will surly grant you your wish.”

Sakura held up three fingers. “First, I want seven dresses, each one a half a size larger than the last so that I might wear them all at once. These are the dresses I will wear on my wedding night so I can’t marry him until then. Secondly, on the night of our wedding, in the room where bride and groom consummate their vows, I want a copper basin filled with milk from a cow that is without spot or blemish.”

“Those are…” he struggled to find the words, “odd requests if ever I’ve heard them. What is the third thing you ask for?”

Sakura smiled, cheekily. “I’ll let the king know that myself, since it depends on how the night goes. Once my dresses are made, let me know and I will come for the prince, until then, leave me to work in the garden.”

“You don’t want a room fit for a princess?”

Sakura snorted, turning her back on Iruka and picking up the ho she had been using. In a simple move, she swung the ho out and buried its metal into the dirt. The lines in her back stood out, betraying the secret strength that coiled under her skin. She was a delicate looking creature, but Iruka suspected there was more to her than such a fragile frame. No one else thought to look twice at her, including him, but now he thought better of it. She was a tricky woman, one that set him off balance, and one he was all the better leaving to her own devices.

“I will leave you to your work then, my good lady,” he said with a nod, turning to let the king and queen know of his good news.

Keep reading

college au valentines:

- kendra is just laying across the chair in the common room surrounded by valentines from random strangers like well i can’t wait to see what carter manages to do this year

- sara: he can’t be that bad
kendra: have you ever gotten tired of eating quarterscale molds of your boyfriend’s dick because he thought it would be more romantic to buy in bulk
sara:
kendra: they’re white chocolate because he thought any other kind would be racist
sara: are they at least hollow
kendra: they’re caramel filled
sara: nothing about this story is good
(rachel’s note: this is the funniest joke i’ve ever come up with it’s all downhill from here)

- rip of course hates valentines day, did not get sara any of the dildos on her dildo wish list, would like to spend the day inside NATHANIEL IF I SEE YOU TAKE THAT DOVE OUT OF YOUR COAT ONE MORE TIME I WILL DROWN YOU IN THE MENS BATHROOM

- nate: slowly putting celebratory valentine’s dove under sweater as she coos gently

- ray: no matter what carter does it’s going to be so romantic that i will cry for 6 years

- amaya: so len + mick you guys are pretty much married what are your vday plans
len: same thing we do ever year
mick: steal a bottle of champagne, watch nightmare on elm street, gay sex
amaya: wait do you have sex before or after the horror movie because watching a movie about teenagers getting murdered would make it pretty hard to get aroused??
mick: well la-di-da
len: the fucking princess over here
mick: too good to have sex after watching teenagers getting murdered
amaya: you know what? yes. yes i am

- sara: honestly don’t even worry about it kendra at this point we’re all like, each other’s girlfriend boyfriends. carter is like everyones boyfriend so we’ll all be embarrassed
jax: i don’t claim him

- sara not 5 minutes later: kendra your boyfriend has shown up to our dormitory on a white horse
kendra: you said he was all our boyfriends
sara: that’s before he rode a horse onto campus to come see you. now you’re on your own

- ray: A HORSE!!!! SO ROMANTIC!!!!!!

- Carter: kendra come up on the horse
kendra: get off the horse
carter: i can’t hear you i’m on-
kendra: get down from the horse carter
carter: kendra get on the horse

- 10 minutes of horse related arguing later carter finally gets down from the horse and gives kendra this wicker basket with a yellow ribbon on it and she’s like please don’t be dick related please don’t be dick related please-

- HE GOT HER A KITTEN NAMED PUSSYFOOT. SHE IS A RAGDOLL. HE IS VERY CUTE

- ray: full bawling, has not stopped

- carter has an off campus apartment so he was planning to actually have aldus live with him but kendra is like NO HE STAYS WITH ME WE’LL PUT HIS LITTER BOX IN THE BATHROOM 

- rip: i’m going to end up cleaning out that box aren’t i
kendra, holding her baby cat son: yeah. yeah you are
rip, gently loving his cat son: okay :’)

- jax: what i want to know is where carter got a horse
carter: you don’t need to worry about that
jax: that answer is actually more concerning than you just telling me where you got a horse

- carter: and raymond, my sweet prince, the other love of my life, for you i have prepared a series of sonnets-
all: NO
carter: RELEASE THE DOVES
ray as the rest of the group has to duck to avoid the incoming flurry of doves: I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO LOOOOOOVED

Dazed and Distracted, Can’t You Tell? (GastonxFemale!Reader fanfic)

Dazed and Distracted, Can’t You Tell? Chapter 5

Word count: 917

Tagged: @animeacetheheart @gawston @withouthannah @ciaprincess@the-fic-files @molethemollie @hobbithorse19 @supernaturalimagines666 @hellonheels-x @blackxthexbeast @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli

really quick note: let’s just forget the amount of time it would take a letter to reach (Name) from the new world to France in this, mkay? Also, the last few chapters have been (Name)-centred, these are going to be Gaston-centred, so it’s more third person than second. Okidokie, enjoy!



Gaston rode astride his horse, his trusty companion Lefou beside him. The shorter, more stout man had been at Gaston’s side for almost three years now, and now that the war was over, still showed no signs of leaving. They’d arrived off the boat from the New World days ago, the taller of the men making the greatest haste to return home. The road ahead stretched on, and though the years had muddled his memory of the look of the town, his intuition told him it was barely a league ahead. “Lefou,” The now 23 year old Gaston caught his friend’s attention.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

In the books the only thing that comes even close to being a clue is the blue rose Dany sees in the HOTU . But that doesn't necessarily mean romance it can mean a family relationship between the two.

Hello anon,

I’m not sure you are aware of this, but I’ve created a detailed outline of the potential moments of foreshadowing between Dany and Jon that can be found in the book. You can find them here.

While I’m at it, I will take a moment to address your comment about the blue rose. We can deduce what the vision means by analyzing the scenes that are paired with in that sequence that Dany is shown. I’m going to review the whole sequence so that it’s clear what the scene with the blue flower really means.

From HOTU:

“I don’t …” Her voice was no more than a whisper, almost as faint as theirs. What was happening to her? “I don’t understand,” she said, more loudly. Why was it so hard to talk here? “Help me. Show me.”

… help her … the whispers mocked… . show her …

Then phantoms shivered through the murk, images in indigo. Viserys screamed as the molten gold ran down his cheeks and filled his mouth. A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him. Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman’s name… . mother of dragons, daughter of death … 

Glowing like sunset, a red sword was raised in the hand of a blue-eyed king who cast no shadow. A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire… . mother of dragons, slayer of lies … 

Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness… . mother of dragons, bride of fire

As with all things, let’s start from the beginning…

The first part of this scene Dany is asking the Undying to clarify what they had just said to her:

… three heads has the dragon … 

the ghost chorus yammered inside her skull with never a lip moving, never a breath stirring the still blue air

… . mother of dragons … child of storm … The whispers became a swirling song… . 

three fires must you light … one for life and one for death and one to love … 

Her own heart was beating in unison to the one that floated before her, blue and corrupt …

three mounts must you ride … one to bed and one to dread and one to love … 

The voices were growing louder, she realized, and it seemed her heart was slowing, and even her breath… . 

three treasons will you know … once for blood and once for gold and once for love …

So then we get to the vision, which are separated into three difference sections, Daughter of Death, Slayer of Lies, and Bride of Fire. 

Daughter of Death

Here Dany is shown images of the death of her brother Viserys, the once potential future of her son Rhaego and the death of her brother Rhaegar. 

So, why is Dany shown these images? She is shown these images because the deaths of these three men where instrumental in Dany becoming the woman she is, the Mother of Dragons if you will. Rhaegar’s death caused the downfall of her family, which lead to her being raised in exile. The death of Viserys marked the end of what remained of her Targaryen family, leaving her the love Targaryen. And the death of her son marked the end of her life with Drogo and what remained of her family, leaving her completely alone in the world. 

Slayer of Lies

These vision are of impostors, men who have taken the mantle that belong to her. Her very existence as the Mother of Dragons slays the lie of what they all pretend to be.  

Stannis pretends to be the prophesied savior, when he’s not, he’s not going to be part of the coalition that will fight the Others. Mostly because he wants to be the ultimate king, but that’s not what will be needed, because it won’t matter. Aegon is an impostor, pretending to be the Targaryen heir. He’s not a real dragon, he’s a mummers dragon, a puppet of the puppeteers known as Varya and Illyrio. Finally, I believe that the stone beast, breathing shadow fire is Euron. He’s gathering a lot of dark magic and other stuff to somehow reinvent himself as a Valyrian come again. But of course he’s not that, the last heir to Valyria is Dany, with her looks and her dragons and her lineage. The Valyan’s were terrible people and she’s transforming what they use to be, where once they used dragons to enslave the people of Essos, she’s using dragons to liberate them. 

Bride of Fire

These images pertain to the men Dany will marry and we know this because the first image is almost identical to when Dany consummated her marriage to Drogo. But also by what she is told before these images are shown to her regarding the mounts, which might connect with thee visions. 

The first image: 

“Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. “

Bow here is a description of Dany 

“They rode out together as the stars came out, leaving the khalasar and the grass palaces behind. Khal Drogo spoke no word to her, but drove his stallion at a hard trot through the gathering dusk. The tiny silver bells in his long braid rang softly as he rode. “I am the blood of the dragon,” she whispered aloud as she followed, trying to keep her courage up. “I am the blood of the dragon. I am the blood of the dragon.” The dragon was never afraid.

Afterward she could not say how far or how long they had ridden, but it was full dark when they stopped at a grassy place beside a small stream. Drogo swung off his horse and lifted her down from hers.”

The firs image is a clear description of Dany’s first time with Drogo. The second and the third are harder to pin down just because they haven’t happened already. I believe the corpse to be Hizdahr after Victarion kills him and ties him to the prow of his ship, to show Dany how manly he is. 

The third image of course is Jon. The son of a blue rose who at The Wall, will be a source of happiness for her (fill the air with sweetness). 

If we connect the three mounts noted above to these visions, the one to bed is Drogo, i.e. why we get a description of their first time together. The one to dread is Hazdhar, she dreaded having to marry him and his death at the hands of a Greyjoy is not that good, because Victarion is NOT show Theon and Yara. 

Then that leaves the one to love as Jon. 

TTFN