boring course

Seeking Paintings | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: You, a muggle-born artist, have been hiding your feelings for Draco Malfoy for years now. Though, after an unplanned meeting in the astronomy tower things between the two of you start to change. Even more so after finding each other in the Room or Requirement.

Word Count: 3,573

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: not my gif credit to owner


You stare out into the vast horizon from the astronomy tower. This was your favorite hideout during your free period. You much rather enjoyed the view when it was light outside. Sure you love astronomy class and looking up at the stars but this was just different. Better.

You pulled out your old, hard-cover, weather-beaten sketch book and began to draw the landscape before you. You made sure to grasp and add every detail to your drawing. You began shading in the sunset when you heard a voice behind you.

“What are you doing here?” He asked in a rotten tone and you already knew who it was.

“You don’t own the astronomy tower, Draco,” you say blandly while continuing your work.

“You know this is were I go in my spare time,” you hear him huff.

“I know,” you blush, hoping he doesn’t know that besides the view one of your favorite part of this spot is that it’s that it’s his spot too. Then again, how would he even know that, it’s not like you two are exactly close.

You hear him start to walk away and your heart sinks. Just once you’d like him to stay up here when you’re here. Maybe then, you too could become close. You’d had this battle with having a crush on Draco since first year. Now here you are, sixth year and the most interaction between you two is fighting over the astronomy tower.

“You know you can stay right?” You boldly say. You swallow hard when you hear him stop in his tracks.

You hear his footsteps begin again but this time coming back towards you.

He sits a few feet from you, “Just don’t expect me to talk to you.”

You just smile and shake your head continuing to look down at your sketch book. For a few minutes you two stay like this, you drawing, him (probably) thinking. You wonder what could be going on in his head, he seemed to be thinking pretty deeply.

You feel him inching towards you at a snail’s pace, from the corner of your eye you can see him watching you draw everything from here to the horizon. You hate yourself for the blush creeping up on your face, by the time he’s within a foot of you your face is bright red.

“Why are you blushing?” You look up at him and see he’s smiling, a genuine smile.

Because I’ve been hiding my massive crush on you for nearly six years.

“I just get embarrassed at people watching me work,” you shrug.

“Why?” He asks seeming genuinely interested. “You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” you’re blush gets even deeper.

You break eye contact and look back down at your sketchbook. The rest of the period is made up with you finishing your sketch and Draco watching intently. He’s completely mesmerized at how you can just see an image and recreate it perfectly on your page.


It’s Saturday and you aren’t needed nor expected anywhere, which is why Saturdays are your favorite days. You usually spent these days roaming around looking for inspiration for a new art piece. Which is exactly how you plan to start today.

You roam the school grounds aimlessly, constantly moving your head around to grasp every aspect of the school. You step into the one of the many courtyards and feel inspired to sketch it, until you realize you’ve already done that… Ten times…

You sigh and realize that after six years of constantly working in the same space it’s going to be hard to find a completely new area for your art. Just this year and the following before you can finally start travelling and finding more inspiration worldwide.

In your attempts to find a new spot you’re again not looking forward. causing you to slam right into someone.

“Hey, watch where- oh, hey Y/N,” you hear Draco’s voice quickly turn from intimidation to delight.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” you ramble.

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughs at how cute he thinks you are when you ramble.

A blush creeps onto your face, “Well, I best be going.” As you turn to walk away he grabs your wrist and turns you back to face him.

“Hey, are you going to the Quidditch match today?” He inquires.

“Um I wasn’t really planning on it,” you scratch the back of your neck.

“Oh,” his face slightly falls. “Well, I’d like it if you went,” he says his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Even though you’d be rooting for Y/H and not Slytherin,” he looks at the ground.

“I mean I probably should go, it's sixth year and I haven’t gone to a single match,” you shrug and he looks at you dumbfounded.

“Not a single match? Well, you definitely have to go now,” he laughs and so do you.

“Well, I guess you can count on me being there,” you say before turning and walking away. You look over your shoulder, “And I guess I can root for Slytherin just this once,” you wink and quickly face forward as your face turns crimson red. A crazy amount of adrenaline must’ve been rushing through you for having the courage to wink at Draco Malfoy.


You take a seat in Y/H’s section for the Quidditch match, all your housemates do a double take when they see you arrive. Which were followed by ‘finally’, 'it’s about time’, 'I didn’t even know you knew how to get here’ and more sayings around those lines.

You don’t know to much about Quidditch, especially since you’re a muggle-born. Not that you know much about muggle sports either. Your friends have explained the game to you many times, you got the logistics but you just didn’t know why it was such a big deal. Maybe you’ll actually figure it out through watching a match.


Draco rose up into the air on his broomstick to prepare for the start of the game. On his way up he scanned the crowd for you and a smile creeps onto his face when he sees you sitting in Y/H’s section. He can tell you look slightly out of place in the stands and is glad to see you actually showed up. He keeps up the hope that you’re actually here for him.

He has been trying to convince himself since second year that he doesn’t have feelings for you. That he could never have feelings for a muggle-born. Except as he’s grown older through his school years he’s realized that muggle-borns aren’t that bad. He’s realized he was just told to think that way, not that he actually believed it.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the blow of the whistle signaling the beginning of the game. Slytherin immediately takes hold of the Quaffle and manages to score within the first minute. A chorus of boos and angered shouts comes from Y/H’s section. Draco looks over to see you remaining silent among your peers. He smiles, hoping you may be rooting for Slytherin…for him…silently. Even if you’re not, at least you aren’t booing.

Draco circles around the field, scanning for the snitch. He’d be lying to say that he wasn’t losing his interest in Quidditch, squinting into the distance searching for a flying ball of gold gets boring after awhile. Of course, he didn’t know if the sport itself was actually starting to bore him or the stress recently rested upon him was making him lose interest in the things he loves. Apparently stress can do that. 

He sees a flicker of gold in the distance, shocked at how early on he’s spotted it he doesn’t fully believe he saw it. That is until he sees the seeker for Y/H dive in the direction of the flash of gold. He quickly follows and the two chase after the golden blur, neck and neck. Draco shoves the other seeker, causing him to spin off course and leaving Draco to be the only one in pursuit of the snitch.

He’s extremely close, he takes a hand off his broom and reaches towards the snitch. He feels cold metal on the pads of his fingers, he just needs to get a grip around it. Almost…

Wham!

He’s nearly knocked off his broom as pain seers through his ribcage. He got hit with a bludger milliseconds before he could grab the snitch. He holds a hand over his ribcage and groans in pain. He rises back into the air to find he’s near Y/H’s section. He looks over at you and you mouth to him, 'Are you okay?’. He nods and manages to give you a faint smile as reassurance.

When he starts to move upward he hears many whispers, “Did Draco Malfoy the Draco Malfoy just smile?”, “Did he smile at you, Y/N?”, “Is there something going on between you two?”, and things of that nature.

He looks back in your direction to see your cheeks turning pink while multiple people start to question you. Though more importantly he sees a smile on your face at the thought of people thinking something is going on between the two of you.

Suddenly, his interest for Quidditch returns. Except rather than loving the sport, wanting to be the best, and move towards winning the House Championships, his goal and motivation to win comes from you. He wants to impress you, and suddenly he finds himself squinting at the field and scanning it as if his life depended on it.

Ten minutes pass with no sign of the snitch. Y/H is currently in the lead, sixty-twenty. Draco continues to scan the field, keeping an eye on the other seeker to see if they look to be in pursuit. He finds himself glancing over at you often as well, trying to make sure you aren’t growing bored. Good thing he’s doing this because it is when he shifts his eyes to you that he spots the snitch once again.

This time determined to get he speeds off in the directions of the flicker of gold. He soon gets close enough that the snitch is hardly a blur anymore. He stretches out his arm when he feels someone bump his side, not strong enough to knock him off his path though. It’s Y/H’s seeker, Draco gives them a menacing stare before turning his eyes back to the snitch. The two race around the field with their arms reaching towards the snitch, they’re neck and neck. Draco, determined to win, jerks his hand out so roughly he fears he might’ve dislocated his shoulder. It would be worth it though, he feels his hand close around the snitch.

He slows down and waves the snitch above his head, wearing a proud smile. The rest of the Slytherin team flies over to congratulate him. He hardly notices their presence as he starts to look for you, to see your reaction. His smile fell, you weren’t in the spot you had previously been in. You weren’t anywhere to be seen.

A look of disappointment washes over Draco’s face as he moves back to the ground. Where did you go? Why did you leave? Did you just not care enough to stay? Did you leave because Slytherin won? Was it foolish of him to think you were here for him? He was disappointed that he ever let that thought into his head.


The rest of the Slytherins were celebrating in their common room, but Draco was in no mood for a party. Though every time he tried to move towards the dorms one of his friends would pull him back to the center of the crowd.

“Dude, what up with you,” Blaise leans onto Draco. “You know you can’t vanish from a party after a win.”

Vanish.

He hadn’t been to the room of requirement in ages. If he was already disappointed with himself he might as well make it even worse by working on that cabinet.

“I actually have to go do something,” Draco mutters before peeling away from the crowd, this time being successful.

He begins the journey from the dungeons all the way to the seventh floor, left corridor. Constantly, he finds himself dodging behind corners at the sight or sound of a teacher. When he makes it to the entrance of the Room of Requirement unscathed he begins to pace and think deeply about what he needs.

I really need to work on this cabinet. If I don’t fix it in time I’ll probably get myself and my family killed. To work on this cabinet though I’m really going to need some privacy. No one else should be able to go in or out. I really just need to be alone, even though I’d rather be talking to Y/N, figuring out why she left the natch early… But I really need to go work on this cabinet in private.

He thinks to himself, allowing him access to the room. He steps inside and begins to make his way to the vanishing cabinet. He examines a feather from the last time when he used that cabinet on a small bird. He begins to realize it’s spending days on end staring at this cabinet that he truly begins to hate what he’s become. He knows he had no choice, it makes him hate all those who did. All who didn’t have people pressuring him to be evil. To kill or be killed. It makes him hate all those who had good people in his life.

He just wanted one good person in his life, he needed one good person in his life.

Where am I going to find a good person who wants to be in my life?

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he hears a crash from somewhere in the room, faint whispering follows. Someone else is in here.

He draws his wand from his pocket, becoming extremely alert. He swallows hard, the last thing he needs is to be caught in here. He slowly moves towards the sound of the crash, pashing piles and piles of randomized objects. The faint whisper becomes a distinct mutter, a girl’s mutter.

He jumps out from behind the last pile of things before him and the unknown girl and raises his wand. However, he immediately lowers it at the sight before him.

“Y/N?” He questions putting his wand back in his pocket.

You look up at him and gulp. You are kneeling on the ground in front of a puddle of spilt paint to the side of a canvas. Your face turning a bright red to match the paint covering the floor.

“Draco,” you say wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he tuts.

“Well, I needed a canvas and some oils,” you shrug. “So, I went to the room that would supply me with my needs.

"Well, I needed privacy as in no one else being in here,” he says coming off more hostile than he wants to be towards you.

“Maybe you don’t know what you’re actually needs are,” you look down at the ground, saddened at his hostility towards you. Just when you were beginning to think he could actually like you, how silly.

He remembers what he was just thinking about. Where am I going to find a good person who wants to be in my life? “Maybe you’re right,” he admits.

You look up at him and try to suppress any thoughts of him needing you from your head. You look back down at your paint puddle and go back to cleaning.

“You know there’s this thing called magic,” he chuckles before pulling out his wand. After giving it a little flick all the paint moves back into the container.

You tut before letting out a muffled thanks and standing back up. A slight frown forms on your face as you dip your paintbrush into your now unspilt paint and get back to working on your canvas.

“I thought you’d be a little more thankful,” Draco raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t like to mix magic and art,” you huff.

“How come?” he presses on, sounding as though he genuinely cares.

You sigh, not sure if you’re completely comfortable about divulging your childhood to Draco, your muggle childhood. If you even wanted to dream about having a chance with him you figured it wouldn’t be best to remind him you’re muggle-born. However, he’s expecting an answer and you only have the truth.

“It just when I was younger I was told I had a gift when it came to art,” you sigh. “They said my art made my talent seem like magic,” you smile at the memories. “I guess I wanted to keep it all down to talent not literal magic,” you shrug,

“Oh,” is all he has to say. “Well, can I see what you’re painting?”

At that you freeze, brush in midair dripping paint onto the ground. You swallow hard and your face becomes a deeper red than Draco, or anyone has ever seen you as. You slowly turn your near paralyzed head to look at him wide-eyed, You do not even want to imagine Draco’s reaction to your current work, yet alone see or hear it in reality.

He chuckles, “I’ll take that as a no.” You slightly nod and turn back to your work. “If I can’t look at it can you at least tell me what it is?” Your face is burning at this point, it feels so hot you fear you may need to go down to the hospital wing.

He appears next to you and you nearly choke on the lump forming in your throat. You set your brush down and timidly turn your head to look at him. You get a side view of his head, slightly tilted with a flattered expression resting on his face.

“Is that me?” He smiles brightly and you swallow hard.

“Is that weird?” You timidly ask.

He turns his head to look down at you, a smile still plastered on his face. “Not at all.”

He looks back to examine the painting even deeper as you rock on your heels as an anxious tick. The painting is a site you captured in your head at the match. Draco with his hand outstretched towards a golden blur, you seeker right at his heels. You painted the world around them as a fuzzy haze to show they were moving at top speeds. In the background one could distinguish the field, goalposts, stadium full of students, as well as the other players flying about.

“Is this why you left the match early?”

“Yeah, I just got the idea and rushed here to go and paint it,” you shrug. Then, you fully process what he just said. “You noticed I left?” Your eyebrows knit together and you move your gaze to him.

“Of course,” he says looking at you. “I did it for you,” he states. “I woke up this morning and the last thing I wanted to do was go looking for a golden blur. Then, I remembered you said I could count on you being there and I knew I had to play.” You open your mouth to speak but no words come out, so Draco continues. “I was planning on inviting you to the after party as my date but you weren’t there,” he shrugs. He’s trying to play it cool but truly he heart is beating a mile a minute. He was not intended to profess his love for you but before he could stop himself the words were slipping from his mouth.

“D-date?”

“Yeah, is it so weird for me to take the girl I’ve liked since second year to be my date?” There’s no going back now. It’s out, the secret is out. Draco Malfoy has feelings for Y/N Y/L/N.

He waits for you to say something, anything. He heart is racing and his cheeks are turning pink. He hopes you’ll say you feel the same but you just stay silent.

Your mouth hangs agape, you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You’ve liked me since second year?”

“Is that weird?” He timidly asks as you did previously.

“N-not at all,” you smile wider than ever, your face only turning slightly pink. “I mean I’ve liked you since first year.” You see his eyes light up at that, he looks as if this is exactly what he needs to hear.

You two stay silent for a moment, gazing into each others eyes. Both of you wondering what to do next. His eyes slowly move down to your lips, linger for a second, then dart back to your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathes out so quietly you barely hear.

You nod and try to suppress the butterflies in your stomach. He takes a step closer to you and lightly grips your elbows. He pulls you close and stares deep into your eyes. He starts to lean in as do you, both closing your eyes. His lips gently connect to yours. He softly moves his lips against yours, his hands moving down to your waist as yours get tangled in his hair. Neither of you pull away until you both are gasping for air.

“So did you win?” You giggle once you’ve caught your breath.

“I have now.”

Whipped Cream (Jungkook smut)

Originally posted by nnochu


Description: Jungkook is your roommate. Among other things, his habit for baking shirtless made it… ‘difficult’ to live with him.

Themes: Smut, baker, collage, roommate au

This fic contains: Smut, adult content, food play, arguing, drinking, mentions of threesomes, swearing

Characters: Jungkook x You, Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung

words: 7.5k

For this fic I used inspirations of food play and the roommate au from two anons <3

A/N: I refused to come back from my hiatus until I had something for my lovely and patient followers <3 (also, I was keen to come back so i’ll edit this and fix mistakes later)

@chanyeolingss, @jn-jngkk, @sugaspen <3


It wasn’t necessarily the pile of dishes or the trail of clothes that seemed to almost constantly hover around Jungkook like he was some annoying ass Avatar or something that got you so mad. It wasn’t the thick fragrance of his cologne or body wash that drifted through the open plan of your shared apartment every morning, or the smell of his musky sweat when he returned home from his evening jog, or from when he emerges from his room- having clearly just having a ‘fucking mind blowing’ wank. It wasn’t the soft melodies, or exciting electronic beats that flooded from his open window and into yours, nor his big and copious amounts of jackets and coats that made it nearly impossible to get your own fucking clothes from the rack next to the front door. Your frequent burning irritation had nothing to do with his presence, with the evidence of his existence in your apartment and life; it was with the man behind it all. It was with him. With fucking Jeon Jungkook. Ok, and maybe it was also for his fucking annoying baking habits. Did he really need to bring that shit home? Didn’t he get sick of it at work?

Keep reading

boredom be damned - peter parker

Originally posted by tomhollandisdaddy

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary:  Prompt #2: “You’re hot when you’re angry.”

All Peter wanted to do was get his homework done before adventuring into the night, but Y/N walks in and turns his study session into a flush session.

Requested: yes @myfriendmagislit

Warning: slight language

Here’s another request for #2! So excited to write this bc this user is the og:) hope you enjoY!!! This is also kinda long so oops lol and I HOPE YOU LIKE IT !!:-) @myfriendmagislit

MASTERLIST <———————-

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Were you supposed to be on your way to Peter’s right now? No. Did you tell Peter you were on your way to him right now? No.

You were bored as hell, it was as simple as that. You tried to entertain yourself in numerous ways, even attempting to do your pre-scheduled homework for tomorrow night. But that put your state of mind into greater boredom. So, you decided you would carry your bored, sorry ass all the way three blocks to Peter’s apartment. It’s not that you only did this when you were extremely bored, you did almost every day. It just turns out that today, Peter didn’t mention to you anything about working on homework or hanging out for the night. This surprised you to an extreme length, due to the fact you and Peter were stuck like glue all day, every day.

So, you being the nosy ass you were, you decided to investigate. Which worked out perfectly because you were bored as well! Of course your sneakiness did play a part in your feet carrying you to Peter’s that night, but it wasn’t only that. And it wasn’t just the boredom.

Maybe it was the pulsing excitement that ran through your veins every time Peter would run up to you with good news about his exciting double life. Or maybe it was the way your heart grew heavy in your chest when Peter’s lean, muscled body would sit closely next to you as you worked on homework, the heat radiating off his frame to hit yours. Or it might be just spending time with your best friend—correction, beautiful best friend, that caused your feelings to intensify as you got older. Maybe it was all of those things and more, that caused your mind to shift your boredom to Peter.

You admitted these intense feelings a while ago, your instinct immediately knowing your affection for the brown eyes, sweet smiling boy as soon as you laid your eyes on him ten years ago. Your friendship blossomed, consisting of ever lasting laughs and good times, it was what everyone dreamed of in a relationship.

The only problem was, the feeling was only one sided. To your dismay, they were extremely one sided. Your friends would constantly say otherwise, swearing that he looked at you the exact way you gazed at him, but you never saw it. You knew they were just trying to make you feel better. Especially due to the fact Liz Allen was someone who constantly popped up in conversations between you and Peter. This obviously made you feel instant loss and regret. But if Peter was happy, you were happy.

You slowly let your yearning thoughts of Peter vanish before arriving at Peter’s door. You sigh, grabbing the key underneath the mat Aunt May had told you about and open the door, the silence hitting you. You shut the door slowly, walking through the living room area, searching for Peter in the so far vacant house. As no sign of Peter approaches, you walk to his bedroom door, knowing that he’d be in there. Your knuckles hit lightly against the white door, shoving one hand  in your side jacket pocket and the other holding your thermos with water as you wait for the door to open.

You hear the jiggle of the door knob and and look up, seeing a wondrous sight that made your eyes look everywhere place in the world besides Peter’s eyes.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” he questioned kindly, quirking his head to the side at your sudden appearance at his door. You tried to remember to breath as your eyes came in contact with a very shirtless, very ripped, and very hot Peter standing before you. Clutching your cup tightly,  your eyes lingered on his sculpted abs as your mouth stood agape at the sight before you.

Thank god for boredom. What would you without it?

“Y/N?” his voice quickly snapped your dirty thoughts of him out of your mind, disrupting everything good in this world. Y/E/C meets a playful brown as your mouth snaps shut, shaking your head vigorously as you leap out of a hazed state.

Almost breathlessly you rush out, “Oh! I-I was just really bored. Needed something to do,” you finish, shrugging your shoulders at your lousy interpretation of boredom.

He raised his eyebrows, opening the door farther for you to enter. You took note of his right muscle flexing at the stretch of his arm before he spoke, “Okay. Yeah, I’m just trying to get my homework done. Tony asked me to do something when I got done, and May’ll kill me if I leave without finishing it.”

You shook your head as a sign of understanding, noticing his seemingly stressed state as you sat down on his bed. He shut the door, turning towards you with his hands on his naked hips, “But yeah you can hang here, I’m just gonna finish the assignment for Algebra. You know how picky Ms. Roberts’ can be,” he chuckled lightly, smiling in your direction.

“Oh and those papers next to you are the chemistry homework, if you need to see it.“

You nodded, a close mouthed smile adorned your lips at his sweet gaze. He sighed before sitting down at his desk, continuing his work, leaving you there.

Is this a fucking joke? Is he seriously not going to put on a shirt? He’s never done this before! But, would you want him to? The view from here is fucking incredible. Boredom be damned.

Your eyes once again scaled his half naked body, but this time it was the back view you got to see. The lamp accompanied his brain in helping him finish his work, the remnants of the light shone on his back muscles. You felt your mouth open once again as you carved the muscles with your eyes, craving to run your fingers over every curve of his body. His bangin’ body was another added bonus to Peter Parker. His sweet smile, incredible personality, and extraordinary intelligence were the major factors that made you fall for him. But this, fuck. This was part of the premium package you didn’t know you had signed up for.

You dazedly watched his shoulder move with arm as he sketched the answer quickly on his paper, and sometimes bring his arm up and run his fingers through his ruffled brown locks. You suddenly remembered the drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, that had probably been there for minutes. You reached your arm up rapidly, attempting to wipe the drool silently and sneakily.

Well, that plan failed.

Because as soon as your hand hit the corner of your mouth, your elbow also hit your thermos, knocking it over and open, all over Peter’s chemistry homework that was lying next to you on his bed.

Fuck.

Eyes widened, your heart rate picked up as you made eye contact with the now soaking wet papers lying sloppily on his bed. A gasp emitted from your throat at the sight of the black ink spreading all over the drenched papers. ruining it even more. Well, your gasp awoke Peter from his intense gaze on his work to quickly looking behind him. His eyes grew at the sight of you directed to the now wet papers and thermos lying on top of them. Your mouth agape, you dared to look at Peter’s gaze hitting you like a brick wall.

He ran over to his ruined work, fingers picking up the wet paper, his gaze flashing from the homework to your guilty Y/E/C eyes staring deeply into his own, "Y/N WHAT THE HELL!”

You gaping lips barely stuttered out a response as you reached over and picked up the thermos, “P-Peter I’m so sorry! It was an accident I swear!” you rushed out, throwing the empty thermos to the ground before yanking the remaining papers off his bed and throwing them in the trash can next to you.

“Y/N THIS HOMEWORK TOOK ME FOREVER ARE YOU KIDDING ME. I WAS SO CLOSE TO BEING DONE! I CAN’T BELIEVE…”

Your eyes shut off instantly as Peter’s voice grew weak and strong at the same time, defeat yet anger taking over his demeanor. But, instead of listening to his rant about your previous actions, you watched his arms point from you to the papers, his bicep flexing every moment he stretched them. His eyebrows furrowed and raised at your gaze just staring at him like he’s speaking gibberish. But, you were noticing his arm and neck veins popping out at the stress in his voice and your insides turned gooey, his state turning you on a lot.

“… Mr. Stark needs me! He finally asked me to do something for once and I  was so ready! Now May won’t let me go! Jesus Y/N, could you of been a little more careful? You-”

Your mind shut off his anger towards you, clouding with scandalous thoughts you’ve never thought of before. This caused your thoughts and apparently brain to shut down as you interrupted his rant.

“You’re hot when you’re angry.”

Oh my god. Those words did not just come out of your mouth. What the fuck are you thinking?! Holy shit he thinks you’re some creep-

“W-What did you just say?” Peter questioned, chest slowly deflating from his previous state. You felt your cheeks sprout bright red as his figure inched closer to yours. Your brain finally wanted to work again, your eyes peeking up from staring intently at the floor after your previous comment. His nerves rose immediately, realizing your thoughts on him.

“W-What? I didn’t say-”

“Yes you did. What did you say?” now Peter’s soft brown eyes were gazing intently in yours, his own cheeks matched yours, both flushed and embarrassed. His heart raced at your sudden exposed feelings towards him, and he couldn’t of been happier.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, biting your lip in guilt as your eyebrows furrowed, “I really didn’t mean to say that. I meant to s-say t-that you were scary when you’re angry, not h-hot. Not that you aren’t hot when y-you’re angry, because you are, obviously I mean look at you! O-Oh my god, I’ll just shut up!” you hollered, an extremely nervous chuckle sprang from your throat, attempting to cover up your immense awkwardness.

Peter’s cheeks flushed even more as he heard it roll off your pretty lips once again, a smile played across his own. His eyes sparkled at your red cheeks staring at the floor. He stepped forward slightly, his head daringly leaned towards your ear, his own nervousness growing per second.

Your heart beat sped at his closeness as his lips brushed your tinted-pink ear, his hot breath whispering against your heated skin, “Maybe I should make you angry sometime.”

And you’re pretty sure you died right then and there.

Language Barriers

Consider if you will, Kaiba staying in Ancient Egypt. Atem doesn’t speak his language any more, because he’s no longer connected in any way with Yugi. Kaiba, learning Atem’s language, from courts and gatherings and conversations in the halls. Atem, a good pharaoh but increasingly restless, who comes up with games for everything, inventing a linguistics game for the two of them, because Kaiba can learn tenses in a moment if it means beating someone. Atem one day getting Kaiba to teach him his language, instead of the other way around. It becoming a back and forth, until they’re using Atem’s language and all the little differences in dialect in court proceedings, and Kaiba’s when they’re together or when they need to speak privately (or when Atem needs to sound particularly intelligent during important meetings with foreign dignitaries). Kaiba becoming proficient enough that the game starts shifting into accents, Kaiba’s is already fairly flawless, if still discernible as foreign (as if his skin didn’t give it away), Atem’s is fine when he concentrates, but drifts when he becomes frustrated, his h’s and r’s rolling, vowels stretched or cut short. Losing does that to him.

Kaiba assuming Atem’s just trying to alleviate his boredom until Atem shifts the game into more difficult areas, now with words that only have meaning for a world he’s no longer part of. ‘What is the word for’ and a description that goes on for minutes, that Kaiba has to pick apart like a riddle, coming back sometimes days later with ‘internet’, ‘milkshake’, ‘migraine’ and ‘RFID chip’.

‘Dimension Cannon’, ‘risk’, ‘explosion’, ‘paradox’, ‘homesick’, ‘please’.

I think the best thing I’ve ever encountered in DA2 is the fight dialogue (which is dicks that they didn’t keep with that in DA:I but that’s for another time) 

because first you have Anders

like thats really sweet and he’s nice to everyone else even Fenris 

but then you have 

like wow anders way to be a total dickhole did u even check his PULSE

ok but then there's Fenris and o boy if this broody lil boy doesn’t have some of the best things to say about everyone 

well ok hes cute with hawke 

but then do anyone else (except isabela)

wow a+ assholery fenris

he sounds bored

but of course then theres PRECIOUS MERRILL

and if you’ve romanced her she tugs at your heartstrings with her beautiful lil fingers 

and then the rest of the party she just 

but of course she has to have an extra one for varric

i just love hawke’s companions so much s o much

“Your life in exchange for the Blue Paladin’s freedom. Interesting indeed.”

(we will be) as if chosen

i will encircle you
as i encircle you now
when my brow and my hands
are ash. we will be
as if chosen.

There’s not a royal in the world who doesn’t carry some sort of secret, and Prince Louis has more than his fair share. To protect himself and his family, Louis withdraws from the public eye and tries to live a quiet life, biding his time until his sister Lottie can take the throne in his stead. Unfortunately for him, the national media and the worst person Louis has ever met team up to bring him kicking and screaming back into the spotlight.

Under the watchful eyes of millions, Louis has to figure out how to keep his carefully constructed house of cards from falling, and the first step to accomplishing that is to keep from falling in love with the irritatingly charming Prince Harry, who just won’t stop showing up and trying to whisk Louis out of the constraints of his boring life.

Or: the course of true love never did run smooth, because sometimes people are stubborn and sometimes people are scared and sometimes, just sometimes, love can cause just as many problems as it solves. 

coming soon to @1dreversebang

Whipped...Boyfriend!!...(PT.3)

I’m sorry it’s taking forever to update, but thank you for being patient and sticking around!

If you haven’t, this follows the Whipped Friends series which you can read here

And then this came to be. You can read part1 and part2 first if you’d like.

Flashbacks*



Every tear that slipped, every muffled cry that got caught in his throat, every heart breaking sigh made Y/N break just a little more. Her Harry’s breaking down right before her eyes and she doesn’t know what to do, what to say, to make him feel better.

It’s never been this bad either. On days when he didn’t feel like himself, whether it was because he was feeling under the weather or just having a bad work day, a bath and a cuddle normally did the trick.

He would get home from a particularly bad day, body slumped and feet practically dragging on the floor. And Y/N would be sat on the couch in one of Harry’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts, feet propped on the coffee table, flipping through channels, the rim of a glass of red wine between her lips. She’d glance his way when a soft ‘hey, love’ escaped his lips, and she’d look at the way his tall frame would walk over to where she was, and knowing what was to come, she’d sit up straight and plant both feet on the white carpet, wine glass sat on the table. He’d offer her a small smile before toeing off his shoes and plopping down at the edge of the couch, giving himself enough room that when he lies down, his head would rest on her lap, eyes meeting hers. Only then would she ask what was wrong, and feeling safe, Harry would tell her about how his day went from bad to worse. She would let his fingers play with hers, his other hand resting on top of his chest, sometimes mindlessly fiddling with his necklace. She’d hear him out and nod accordingly, speaking when necessary while the fingers on her free hand worked to pull at his hair in twists. And Harry would feel better after, he always did. Just having his Y/N listen to him and empathise is all he needed sometimes, Harry just felt like he needed to be heard.

And that’s what she did. No matter the situation, even before they started dating. Y/N always made time for Harry, as did he for her.

She would listen and give him advice. When they were best friends she would gladly take on Harry’s problems, and she would console him the best she could by doing things Harry enjoyed, to get his mind off things until they came up with a solution together.

She still listens, and gives advice, now that they’re dating. She still takes on his problems, and she’ll console him the best she can by still doing things Harry enjoys. They’ll go out for late dinners, Harry still choosing to sit next to her, taking the chance to lay his head on her shoulder, arms crossed as they think up a solution to his problem. They’ll go for walks around town, popping by their favourite little cafe for coffee on a nice chilly day, and stay for a bit to chat to their favourite waitress. She’ll gladly watch rom-coms until the next day, too, and pepper him with kisses when she gets the chance.

But now, she’s not so sure that would even help.

What can she do? Other than let him get it out, let him sulk as she stays kneeled in between his thighs. The room’s fallen into a heart breaking silence, and no matter how many times Y/N’s pleaded with him, begged him to tell her what’s wrong, Harry hasn’t budged, hasn’t muttered a single word other than the phrase ’m'sorry, love. M'so so sorry.’ It’s the only thing he’s said since he wrapped his arms around her, grip tight like if he was scared that if he let go she wouldn’t be there. His sobs rack his body uncontrollably, she can feel the heaving of chest against her own in attempts to gain control, failed attempts to stop crying. She feels his hot breath on her neck every time he whispers those words, and it’s starting to scare her, not knowing exactly what he’s sorry for.

All she knows, all she sees when she finally pulls away from his tight embrace is red bitten lips. His cheeks blotched a dark tint of pink, and damp from the tears that’ve finally stopped. His eyes are red and puffy, eyelashes wet. Nose red from when he’d rubbed at it with the back of his hand to rid it of any snot.

“Need t'take a shower,” is all he says.

He’s not meeting her gaze.

“Harry-” she begins. She needs to know what’s wrong. She needs to know what he’s sorry for.

“G'na take a shower.” His head is pounding, the pulsing on his temples sending him into a daze the second he makes any effort to push himself up off the chair. He can’t remember the last time he cried this much.

But his head hurts, his eyes hurt, his throat hurts…his heart hurts.

And he can’t bear to look at the woman he’s hurt.

Heart heavy, he makes his way to the bathroom, heel of his hand pressing into his eyes.

He strips down, movements too weak that it seems he’s taking longer just to remove his shirt. When his feet hit the cold tiles of the walk in shower and the hot water begins to trickle down his back, he lets himself break down for the second time since he’s stepped foot in the house. He stands under the shower head, hoping the steam that’s building up mixed with the sensation of water washing over his body would relax him in the slightest, but it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t.

Now, he’s gotta decide. Does he tell her now, or does he wait.

***

“You’d think Netflix would stop asking if we’re still watching after the tenth time of clickin’ yes,” Harry laughs, pressing the button to assure the telly that yes, they’re still wide awake.

They’ve been binging on the US version of The Office ever since Harry mischievously woke her from a nap.

She’d seemed spent when she got to his, instantly letting her body fall on his comfy white sofa. Harry had stepped away for no more than five minutes to fetch a blanket, only to find her asleep when he walked back into the sitting area. He’d taken off her shoes for her, leaving her to rest for about two hours, until he got bored of course. He’d finished the book he was reading, and had even taken some time to jot down ideas on his brown leather journal. When he had nothing else to write, he’d tiptoed back into the room, undoing the bun his hair was in and slipping the hair tie on his wrist. He had admired the way she looked, so serene, lips parted slightly to allow her lungs to fill with air. He thought maybe, if he pressed his lips to hers and she didn’t wake up, he’d finally find out what she tastes like. He’d always wondered. But no, he couldn’t. Not his best friend. Not like that and definitely not if it might ruin things. So he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and instead grinned cheekily, taking a few strands of his hair in between his fingers and bringing the edges of it to the apples of her cheek. He choked back laughs as he tickled at her temples, then just behind her exposed ear, and to the top of her lip. Harry’s eyes smiled at the way her brows knitted, and she’d brought the pads of her fingers to scratch where his hair lingered. It’d taken a good five minutes until she’d finally gotten up in disgruntlement, knuckled at her still tired eyes, and lightly pulled at Harry’s hair only for him to over dramatise the gesture and tumble forward, over the back of the sofa, and on top of her still laying body.

Harry had laughed at Y/N’s incapability to push him up and off her, his body clearly much stronger. And she’d only settled when Harry sat up, wrapped an arm over her shoulder, and pulled her up and into him, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. They’d talked about her day for a bit until Y/N insisted they watch the telly, and Harry couldn’t help but feel like there was something she wasn’t telling him, but he obliged none the less.

So now here they are, arguing over how Jim hasn’t said anything about his crush to Pam.

“What was that??” Y/N’s so involved in the show that Harry thinks she thinks if she screams loud enough at the telly, somehow the characters will be able to hear her.

“Harry, did you see that??” She moves to sit up, taking Harry’s arm with her.

“Paper, love. They do work at a paper company y'know.” She scolds him, stare kept no more than a second before she’s turning back to the telly.

“But why’d he take it? Didn’t he put it there for her to read!” She wasn’t questioning the fact that Pam was meant to see it, rather stated that Jim meant to give it to her for a reason.

“Maybe he changed his mind.” Harry knew what that would set off.

“Ugh-” she grunts, plopping back into his chest with force, but not enough to really bother him any, “why can’t he just tell her! Would save a lot of trouble.”

“S'not as easy as it seems, kitten.”

It never is.

“But-” she chokes out, “why?” Her voice small, hurt.

“Hey,” he whispers, like you would to get the attention of a sad toddler, “hey. Wha’s wrong, kitten?” He feels like there might be more to it than just Jim discouragement to tell Pam he likes her.

The light emitting from the TV allows him to see the single tear that’s making its way down her cheek, and he reaches out to wipe it with his thumb.

She laughs half-heartedly, “nothing, nothing. M'fine.”

But all it takes is that look. All Harry has to do is stare at her long and enough, and right into his arms she goes, sobbing and shaking.

It isn’t long until his white tee is soaked at the shoulder, his best friend clenching by where it’s ripped in a hole.

Harry rubs at her back when he moves her to sit on his lap. He sighs into her hair, eyes closed and chest heavy just at the thought of her hurting. His large hand strokes her hair as he rocks her back and forth. And when she seems calm enough, he detaches himself to look at her face, his hands reaching out, removing the strands of hair sticking to her cheeks, thumbs caressing at the flushed skin.

“Who did this to ye’, pet?” He’s pleading for her to tell him.

But she doesn’t say anything, just nods her head no and wipes harshly at her eyes to dry them.

“C'mon then.” He pats at her thighs once, and Y/N tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as gets up off his lap.

Harry kisses her forehead and whispers “be right back” before clicking the telly off and disappearing into the hallway in the direction of his room.

“Here.” He reappears with his long black coat on, his beige jumper in hand, handing it to her with a small smile. And yes it’s much too big for her, but it smells like Harry. And that’s okay.

She might not want to tell him exactly what she’s got going on, but he’ll be damned if he’s just gonna sit around not doing anything to lift her spirits up.

“Harry,” she whines. She really doesn’t feel like going out, not for the next year at least.

“Please, kitten. Jus’ put m'jumper on.”

She doesn’t question him after that. He hands her her shoes from where he’d placed them, and slips on his own.

They walk down the streets in silence with their hands in their pockets, Harry occasionally glancing to make sure she was okay.

“Know ye’ too well, kitten,” he says, hoping to get her to talk to him.

“M'fine, H.” And again, a weak smile he’d come to know as her 'tell’ in situations like this.

They’re nearing a corner when a body bumps into her.

“Sorry. M'sorry-” the guy starts, “Y/N?”

“Oh, hey man.” Harry greets, nodding his head once as an informal 'hello’.

She tenses up.

“Hey, Harry,” the hello’s rather quick as he turns his attention back to Y/N.

“Y/N, can we talk?” He reaches a hand out, but she steps back from his reach.

Harry notices how she’s looking anywhere but at her boyfriend.

The man glances at Harry once, a flash of irritation in his eyes.

“I need to talk to you,” and this time he grips her arm. All Harry does is stare at where he touches her, eyebrows knitted in…concern. Maybe even anger. And he can’t ignore the fact that his tummy had tighten in…jealousy?

Harry doesn’t need to see more, the situation clearly uncomfortable for her, so he removes the man’s hand, “don’ think she wants to, man.”

He snaps, “doesn’t concern you Harry. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Was.” It’s the first she’s said since they’d left his place.

“No. I just, let me-” he takes another step towards her, and this time Harry wedges himself in between them, one hand finding Y/N’s behind him, the other firm on the guy’s chest to halt any other actions.

He tries to look at her, eyes pleading, but Harry’s body seems to shield all of her from his view.

“I’m sorry okay.”

Y/N turns her head to avoid the man she thought she once knew as he makes his way around Harry and past her, the sob that’d been caught in her chest erupting from her throat.

“Wha’ happened?”

If Harry recalls correctly, he remembers Y/N was completely smitten with that guy. It was as clear as day when she first introduced him, eyes brighter than Harry had ever seen. And Harry was courteous with the bloke. Made conversation when Y/N brought him to gatherings, but they were never really friends, per-se. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was either. Maybe because she’d stopped going to his, making the trip only once in a while and no longer staying at his when he asked. Maybe Harry was jealous because for the year or so they dated; he had to share Y/N with another man.  No, not maybe, definitely, but he’d never admit that.

Y/N wipes at her eye harshly, a tear already threatening to fall.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” And she’d kept walking along.

***

Harry presses his forehead to the shower wall, tile cool despite the temperature in the room due to the hot water. He remembers that day. It was the first time he’d seen her that broken. It was the first time he realized how fragile she really was.

He also remembers the night she’d revealed to him the reason for the breakup. It was the same night he’d confessed his love for her. They had been talking about everything and anything, and after Harry confessed that she was the reason for the lads’ teasing, she’d shyly mumbled 'y'know. That’s why my last relationship didn’t work out.’

He’d been confused at first, until she’d explained that her ex had become overbearing. He had compiled an endless, and frankly absurd, amount of reasons for why he thought she was cheating. He’d admitted that he was very wary of Harry. He’d insisted and insisted that surely Harry didn’t want just a friendship from Y/N. It’d started with 'a guy knows when another guy is into his girlfriend.’ Which turned into 'I see the way you two look at each other’ until it became everything he could talk about. She’d tried to explain more than once that it wasn’t at all like what he thought. That Harry and her were only friends. But of course that didn’t help. Not when her ex knew them before he’d expressed an interest in her, not when he saw them cuddling at gatherings, or sharing lingering glances.

She told Harry how she tried to make it work, tried to defuse the situation, but when her ex had gone banging on her flat door, drunk and in the mood to fight, is when she’d called it quits. She told Harry how she wasn’t going to stand for it, not after he’d yelled harsh words, accusing her of having an affair and calling her a whore.

Harry remembers it all because it was the same night he’d promised he’d never hurt her in any sort of way. He didn’t want to be the cause of her sadness.

But now here he is, in a position he could never have thought he’d be in.

He exits the bathroom to find his bedroom empty, curtains still closed, rays of light illuminating a picture of the both of them in its respective frame. He walks to the dresser to pull out a pair of briefs and shorts.

Meanwhile Y/N’s been sat quietly on the white, soft sofa. Telly background noise to her thoughts, a foot tucked under her knee and her hands clasped together on her lap.

Her head whips up when she hears footsteps nearing from behind to see Harry, damp hair and all making his way to her.

She says nothing, rather watches meticulously at the way his body moves, a hand running through his hair to push the wet strands slickly back, his nose scrunching for a second and his eyebrows knitting.

“What’re we watching?” He coughs into his fist before taking a seat next to her and giving her a small smile, his hand on her bare thigh.

It feels like she hasn’t heard his voice in a hot minute.

When she doesn’t answer, Harry turns his head to press a kiss to her temple, allowing his lips to linger and his eyes to close as he breathes in her scent.

“I love you, y'know tha’ right?” His thumb rubs her skin, state holding hers.

She’s somewhat relieved to hear that, but it doesn’t settle her worries fully.

She nods anyway.

“Love you, too.”

‘i hate writing female characters’

- or ‘me rambling about being a bad writer’


ive been considering myself a feminist for most of my life, but ive only recently identified a big issue i had when writing stories. i genuinely, honest-to-god, really hate creating female characters, like 99% of the time.
it was a weird realization.

when i was a kid, most of the stories i made had an equal amount of female and male characters, all equally fleshed out (as fleshed out as possible for a kid).
when i entered teenagehood, i started writing more female characters and had a lot of fun doing so.
they werent exactly diverse, but they were enjoyable and relatable.
but then, progressively, starting from highschool, i stopped making any new female characters and wrote mainly male characters, with stories centered around them and them only.

my writing didnt change that much, it was just the gender of my characters.
strange. female characters and male characters arent that different, are they? sure, there are some gender-specific experiences people can have in life, but personality traits arent inherently gendered, so what the hell is going on?

because writing female characters seemed like such a pain, i started asking myself questions about it. why are men more interesting? why are women so boring? and of course, the answer to both was “theyre not”. i looked at my favourite shows, webcomics, podcasts, cartoons, etc, and the overwhelming majority of them have male protagonists and/or a male supporting cast.
a real sausage-fest.

and so whenever i read a very compelling, interesting and in depth character description, i kinda felt like it could only be describing a male character, because no female character would ever get so much personality and backstory. so here we are now. even though i know for fact that female characters can be just as enjoyable a male characters. so what to do?

recently ive noticed that to unblock situations in which i need more female characters but struggle to write enough of them, i just take male character concepts and decide theyre female now. then i can work with good starting material for every character and then write further, knowing some of these characters are female. 

its not a perfect, durable solution, but the more i do that, the easier it gets to write female characters right from the start. its hard unlearning the shit i saw in so much of the media i love but i hope ill manage it in the future.

Little One: High School Proms

Reader x Kol Mikaelson

(NOT MY GIF)

Imagine: You and Kol are hooking up at Mystic Falls High School when your siblings, Damon and Stefan, followed up by Klaus and Rebekah Mikaelson, burst in and almost ruin the night.

*Requested: “I love Little One. It would be great if you write the next part. For example a school party. Klaus and Rebekah want to hurt Elena. Stefan and Damon looking for Elena. But they in one of the classrooms found Kol between thighs their sister. They just prefer to each other than family drama.

Oh

So if you had a great time writing the request, may I ask a follow-up romance Salvatore-Mikaelson? I would be delighted :D

Word Count: 1859

“This is so stupid!”

Caroline Forbes, one of Elena’s best friends, had organised a huge event at the Mystic Falls High School to celebrate something you did not bother to know. People were talking about it all over town, most of them going crazy over clothes, shoes, drinks and all that teenage crap. You always found those things extremely lame and boring. But, of course, Damon and Stefan forced you to smile and accept the invitation to go to the party. Ever since they found out about your relationship with Kol Mikaelson, they were following you around, just to make sure you would never be one second alone and go off to meet him.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Damon said, winking, and you scoffed. “Look, I like this just as much as you do. But I’m doing it to protect Elena. Klaus is still chasing after her and he could be really dangerous.”

“I know that, Damon, I lived with him for over twenty years.” You said, while putting on a pair of high heels.

The vampire narrowed his electric blue eyes, gazing at you annoyed. Almost as if he did not want to remember you spent so many time with the Mikaelsons.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” You smiled, spinning around in front of him. “What do you think?”

Damon swiftly lost the angry traits and quirked an eyebrow, analysing your choice of clothing. As you did not care nor have enough time to go shopping, you had to pick one of your old dresses. It was nothing extraordinary, but did a pretty good job on flattering your every curve; plus, the gown had a considerable cleavage. Definitely the kind of dress it would make Kol freak out and be all jealous over you.

“Too sexy for the teenage boys to handle.”

“Well, thank you, mister. You don’t look bad yourself.”

“As much as I love spending time with you, we need get going. It’s almost nine.”

“You’re right.” You giggled. “Off to the car.”

Damon offered his arm and you gladly accepted, marching to the car as a couple of old friends. While he drove to the school, you could not help but think of how much you loved your siblings. Although you hated how overprotective they were, in the end of the day, Damon and Stefan would always have your back, always helping you in anything you needed and understanding your choices, even the ones they did not approve it. Dating Kol was one of those.

You sighed, placing your hands in your knees.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Why do you look like somebody died or so?”

A laugh came out of your lips and you faced your brother, stroking lightly his face.

“I just missed you. And Stefan too.”

“Who knew Y/N Salvatore had real feelings?”

“Oh, come on Damon! Don’t spoil the moment.”

“I missed you too, sis.” He kissed your cheek. “How about we get inside? If I’m right, things will get wild in a little.”

“Oh, fuck, the blood smells so yummy from here!“ You said, jumping out of the car.

“Just be cautious and don’t let anyone see you, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry.”

Inside, you could see couples dancing to a soft ballad, it was actually kind of cute. It got you remembering how much Kol loved to spin you around and pull you close, singing in your ear. A smile grew in your face and you walked towards the bar, anything with alcohol seemed a great call for the moment. However, before you could get there, a guy stopped you.

“Hi there, gorgeous.”

“Do I know you?” You asked, awkwardly.

“No, I don’t think so. But I’d love to.” He took your hand, kissing it. “I’m James, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“How about I pay you a drink?”

How about you be my drink?” you thought, flashing a wide smile.

“Sounds nice.”

James turned out to be a nice lad, even though he was definitely not your type. Nearly got you guilty for seducing him just to feed. You had to shake your head to focus on what he was saying and not demonstrate you were annoyed to be there. The only thoughts in your mind were that you had to get him out of the crowd, finally enjoy the time you lost on him by tasting his blood and make it fast enough so your boyfriend would not catch you with him. Kol could be really nasty when he was jealous and, since his siblings, Klaus and Rebekah, were after Elena, the family would probably show up.

“Can we go somewhere private?” You questioned, wearing your best smile.

“Sure. There’s a bunch of empty classes we could use.”

“Great.”

It took only a few minutes to escape the noisy party. The teenage boy placed his hands on your shoulders and kissed your neck. You spun around and faced him. He pulled you closer, squeezing the skin of your waist. You felt like a snake, watching your pray approach to finally attack it.

“You’re so beautiful…”

Before he could lean in and kiss you, somebody ripped him off and threw him on the ground.

“You do not mess with somebody else’s girlfriend, mate!”

Kol!” You yelled, pulling your boyfriend away from the other guy. You knelt before James and looked deep in his eyes, compelling him to stay there and not scream.

“What were you doing with that guy? Why he had his filthy hands on you?”

“I was just going to feed, darling.”

“Did you have to let him touch you?”

“I’m not going to argue with you over this any more. What are you doing here?”

“Guess.”

“Your psycho siblings are after my brother’s girlfriend.”

“Jackpot!” His devilish smirk showed up, as he slowly walked to you to place a kiss on your lips. “I missed you, babe.”

“Me too.”

“So, do you still fancy a drink?”

“Always, honey.”

Kol chuckled and pushed opened one of the classroom, quickly getting inside. With the door completely open, you dragged James through it and sat him on the teacher’s chair. The boy whimpered scared, but the compulsion did not allow him to do any further, just await to a likely death. You parted his legs, placing yourself in the middle and bending to get the best spot on his neck. He smelt so good and the alcohol on his blood would only make it better. Ultimately, you sunk your teeth on him, spilling the red liquid and calming your thirst.

“You look so sexy when you’re feeding, love.“ 

The brown haired Mikaelson caressed your hair, observing closely your movements. Eventually, you dropped the young man, pretty much dead, on the floor and stood up, facing your boyfriend. The blood was dripping, leisurely staining your chin and slithering through your cleavage. You knew how much Kol loved to see you like this: dominant and strong. A lethal weapon against his sanity.

"Don’t you want have a taste?” You whispered in deep, filled with lust, voice.

“Oh yeah.” He replied, claiming your lips with his. “Shit, your mouth tastes so good, darling…”

You only hummed against his mouth, your hands pulling a lock of his hair aggressively. Kol laughed, kissing the soft skin on your neck, his tongue wiping out the traces of blood from it. Your body was way more responsive than usual and a couple of small strangled noises slipped.

“This is not, oh…” He found your wet core, circling small figure eights on it. “Fair!”

Mikaelson stopped the movements beneath your skirt and firmly grabbed your hips, turning you around and bending you against the table. You struggled to breathe, feeling his length hard on you.

“You drive me crazy, Y/N.” He smacked your ass, making you groan. “I just want to fuck you until you’re senseless.”

“Damn it! Stop teasing me!”

“Y/N.” You glanced back, staring at him. “Can you stand up for me?”

“I can try.” Both of you giggled.

Kol gave you a hand, helping you to get back on your feet again. He smashed his lips onto yours one more time before sitting you on the room’s desk.

“Now what are you going to do?”

“Stick my head between your legs and eat you out until you beg.”

“Uh, you had me on the eat out part.”

The sweet chocolate eyed Mikaelson smirked, a hint of mischief infused in his irises. He knelt in front of you, grabbing your feet and rubbing it softly. Small shudders spread across your form. You screwed your eyes shut and let out a girlish moan.

“I want to hear you screaming my name, love.”

“I thought you were supposed to make me beg.”

He opened your legs, kissing your inner thighs. Kol pulled playfully your panties’ waistband, which made you bit your lips. Your core was so warm and wet that got you anxious for his direct touch. It was almost hurting.

“Stop fooling me around, Kol Mikaelson.”

“Couldn’t you wait, love? Such a hurried kitten!”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. Mikaelson took of your knickers and went for it. He darted out his tongue throughout your entrance, suckling your folds and placing delicate kisses on the soft skin. His touch was simply delicious. Kol always got you desiring more and more.

“Oh, Kol.”

“Y/N?” You heard Damon’s voice calling out. “Are you here?”

You have to be kidding me!”

“Y/N?” It was Stefan’s time to reach for you.

Kol stopped what he was doing and raised his look to meet yours. But, before you could say anything, Stefan and Damon bursted into the place. Followed up by Klaus and Rebekah. “Oh, God, why can’t I have sex with my boyfriend? Is this some kind of punishment?”, you thought coming down from the table and facing the astonished look from the trespassers.

“What do you want?”

“We need to find Elena!” Stefan said, worried out and ignoring the whole situation you were in. “She’s gone and doesn’t answer her phone.”

“This is all your fault!”

“I need her, mate. I wouldn’t bloody hurt her.” Klaus retorted Damon’s statement.

“But Rebekah would.”

"Oi! Don’t talk like I’m not here!”

You exchanged a look with Kol. Both of you hated that family drama and could not care less about Elena Gilbert’s whereabouts. You sighed, hearing the fight become louder.

“Can you just shut up?” You yelled, narrowing your eyes. “This is not the place for that kinda argument.”

“But Y/N…”

“For fuck’s sake, I want to shag my boyfriend. Am I asking too much?”

“Ew!” A chorus emitted, whilst frowning. “OK, this is entirely irrelevant.“ Klaus snorted. "Are you going to come with us and look for the doppelgänger?” “I’m sorry, Nik, but I’m with Y/N. I couldn’t care less about Elena Gilbert.”

“So, all of you, leave. Right now.”

You are not bossing me around!” The Original Hybrid growled.“I’ll do what I want.”

“Niklaus, I’m not going to argue with you.”

He raised an eyebrow and Rebekah opened her mouth to say something.

“Nor with you, Rebekah. Now, go off to find Elena or whatever, just leave us out, okay?”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him.” Damon pouted.

“We already had that conversation. He’s my boyfriend, suck it in.”

“But…”

“No “but”! Out of here.“

Kol was standing against the table, arms crossed and a proud grin on his lips. After everyone left, you ran to his arms, hooking your legs around his waist. The man laughed and you kissed him.

"Now, where were we?”

Listen. The men on Broadway are GRANDPAS.

Lin Manuel-Miranda:

Andy Mientus, surprisingly, is also an elderly man. He bakes things while wearing baseball caps. I mean.

Then there’s Darren Criss. He knits when he gets bored backstage.

And of course Aaron Tveit, the grandpa king, who uses these phrases:

“rad” “beautiful thanksgiving turkey sandwich” “okie dokie” “those subwoofers were bumpin” “swell!” “slammin’ rock music” “all up in my neck business” “go ahead, yuck it up” “oh gosh” “who in the heck”

Conclusion? The best fanmail would be some plain crackers, denture cream and a hearing aid coupon. 

x x x x

what newsies taught me

you are strong. don’t let someone push you down.

you are smart. seriously, your brain is so original and creative.

you are good. good does not mean nice. nice is boring. you have good coursing through every inch of your being.

you can. if you want it to happen, make it happen.

you leave a mark. even the smallest people have the longest shadow.

you are loved. no one is alone, i promise.

you should fight. fight for what’s right, fight for others, fight for yourself.

you are so important. literally everyone has such an important role. if we removed you, the whole world would fall apart.

you have a family. someone is willing to fight for you.

you are front page news. treat yourself as such.

we say how much we love this show but i don’t think we understand. this is a show telling us to fight for what we believe in. we crack jokes, we tell stories, but most of all we hear those words echo in our ears when we see injustice.

fight. because we all have something worth fighting for.

trustworthy | myg

summary: alright, so maybe everyone dotes on and teases you and yoongi for being so irresistibly adorable together around campus, but you’re just friends, you swear.

{hogwarts!au}

pairing: yoongi x reader
word count: 2k
genre: fluff, fluff, and oh, did i say fluff?
a/n: in case ur a dedicated sorted fan, this drabble takes place in an alternate timeline and does not, whatsoever, interfere with the universe that the series takes place in. also, i know, i love writing about the hogwarts universe animals. fight me. requested by anon, and a total blast to write!

There’s a reason that yellow and green are right next to each other on the color spectrum, and there’s a reason why, out of all the students in the school, you’ve somehow managed, over the years, to befriend a Slytherin boy by the name of Yoongi.

The problem is, you don’t know what that reason in specific happens to be.

Keep reading