featuring such hits as its the end of the world as we know it

All Too Well (M) | Pt. 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Summary: You and Yoongi shared a loving relationship with one another until you both agreed to end things and pursue your separate careers. But two years later, Yoongi is a member of the ever growing Bangtan Boys, and you are a new makeup artist for their upcoming tour.
Pairing: Yoongi | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut; Idol & Makeup Artist AU
Word Count: 6,061
Author’s Note: I always wanted to try my hand on a Yoongi chapter story, and then I saw this prompt on tumblr and decided to go with it. I also want to note up ahead that I’m not super familiar with how the recruiting process for Kpop groups go and my knowledge only extends to really quick skims of articles just to get the basis. Regardless, I hope I can get to more parts, so let me know what you think.

also idk if this should be considered a prologue or a part 1 but oh well im just leaving it as part 1

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You suppose that it all starts and ends with a letter.

Dear Mr. Min Yoongi,” Your boyfriend reads across the kitchen counter, fingers curling tightly around the paper in his hands, eyes blown wide with a gaze depicting such rare intensity that you’ve actually stopped fixing your morning coffee just to catch a sight of his expression. You can’t entirely place the feeling weighing itself into your stomach, so you settle with staring at him and trying to keep your own facial features as neutral as possible. “We are pleased to inform you that you have passed the final audition at our label and therefore are officially recruited into our newest group Bangtan Boys. You are going to be one of seven other boys joining our label as trainees and we are excited to finally bring everyone together to prepare for debut. Although training won’t officially start until next week, we ask that you come to the studio tomorrow morning to meet the other members as well as be prepped on our expectations and scheduling. We wish to congratulate you on your hard work and look forward to getting to know you more in the coming years. Sincerely, Big Hit Studios.”

When Yoongi doesn’t react immediately to the positive news, you flicker your gaze up to study him. His eyes, once again, are scanning the paper, quicker and quicker with each line as if he didn’t read it or hear it correctly the first time around. His eyes have grown to the size of saucers at this point, and you would have thought him to be a statue had it not been for the rather loud inhales and exhales coming from the boy. The sight itself would have been rather comical had it not been for the context behind the stare.

So you try for a gentle smile, leaning a little on the counter to try and further gauge his expression. “Yoongi?” You inquire softly, reaching a hand across the space to run your hand along his shoulder blade. “Baby, are you alright?”

Yoongi blinks, snapping himself out of his trance as he shifts his gaze from the letter to you, back to the letter, and back to you. “I did it?” He whispers, the statement sounding more like a question above anything else and you find your lips curling up into a fond smile in light of Yoongi’s confusion—even though he was the one to read the letter multiple times, running over the words in his own mind repeatedly.

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{PART 9} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; Jungkook takes you shopping and you inadvertently give him a lesson on just how cruel humans can be to each other.

{Part 1} // {Part 8} {Part 9} {Part 10}

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

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Owner

A/N: Hello everyone! It’s been a hot minute. Hopefully this new series makes up for everything J I haven’t written hybrid!au stuff before, but I find it really hot so why the fuck not right?

There will be smut in later chapters!

If you’re not into that kind of stuff, then I wouldn’t read this story.

Based sorta on this J-Drama called Kimi Wa Petto, if you wanna check it out its super cute.

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Don't Let Me Go

Request; Can you write an imagine where Spencer and the reader get in a fight before a case and the whole time Spencer is being passive aggressive with her until she ends up seriously hurt and he thinks she’s going to die before they got to make up? I LOOOOVE YOUR WRITING BTW ❤❤❤❤❤

Warnings; angst, gore, violence

A/N

This is kind of saaaaaad. Thank you for the request!



——-

“You never hang out with me anymore!” You yell as Spencer tries pushing past you to leave the house.

 "Y/N, I hang out with you all the time,“ he says calmly as you stare up at him accusingly.

"No, you don’t,” you frown. “We come home and you either read or sleep.”

“Oh my god, Y/N, move!” Spencer tries getting past again but you push him forward. 

“Are you cheating?” You accuse angrily. “Tell me the truth, right now." 

"I’m not cheating!” He replies incredulously. “Why would you even think that?" 

"Because you’ve been leaving every day and not coming home until late,” You reply, saddened. “I mean, it’s not like you have friends or anything.” The words left your mouth accidentally, and you regretted letting them free. Spencer’s calm demeanor had changed from calm to hurt and angry.

“I don’t have friends?” He asks with an eyebrow raised.

“Spence, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that.” You tried to fix your mistake, but the damage was already done. Spencer was staring at you like you had just killed someone, and that someone being him.

“Then what did you mean, Y/N?” He questions with disappointment. “You know, out of all the people who could have said that to me, I never thought it would be you. I’ve heard it before, trust me. I guess bullies never mature.”

Bullies?” You scoff, taken aback. “Spencer, it was an honest mistake. It’s just that you never go out and the people who are your friends don’t go out like this.”

“Just save it,” Spencer cuts you off and shakes his head. “I have to go.”

You watch as Spencer leaves the house once again like he did every day. His satchel and coat in hand as he left without saying a goodbye. No kiss, no hug, no ‘I love you’, just silence. You didn’t want to believe he was cheating, but it was the only logical explanation. This was so unusual for him, and at first, you suspected he had fallen back into taking dilaudid, but you would recognize the signs and he wasn’t showing them.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you plopped down onto the couch and looked out the window to see Spencer driving down the street and then disappearing when he turned the corner. Your phone sitting on the end table beside you began to vibrate, you figured it was Spencer, but when JJ’s name flashed on the screen, you knew it would be too good to be true.

“Hello?” You answer as you press the phone to your ear.

“Hey Y/N, sorry to be bothering you and Spencer on a Saturday, but we really need your guys’ help on this case.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you brushed off the little sting in your heart at the mention of Spencer’s name. “I’ll be right there.” And with that, you hung up.

When you arrived at the BAU a little later than everyone, you hastily apologized for being late and quickly slipped into one of the chairs on the round table. Your gaze lands on Spencer, he’s facing towards the screen where Penelope is showing the murders and paying no attention to you.

“Damn, Y/L/N, did you miss the bus or something?” Morgan teases and you roll your eyes.

“Actually yeah,” you purse your lips and glance over at Spencer, “second vehicle that took off without me.”

Everyone diverted their attention Penelope as she explained the case, and you did too. You wanted to focus on every detail and let your mind focus on that instead of on Spencer. If he could ignore you so easily, you hoped you could do the same.

“You know, the unsub’s victimology looks a lot like Y/N,” Emily points out and everyone turns to look at you.

“You’re right, long/short h/c hair, e/c eyes, light/tan/dark skin,” Rossi observes all your features and nods. “You’re a match.”

“Well, we could use that to our advantage,” Hotch adds. “Only in extreme circumstances, though. I don’t want one of my agents getting hurt while getting used as bait.”

“I could do that,” you agreed, peering up at Spencer to see if he would interject, but he never did. His eyes were fixated on the files in front of him, scanning every word on the page.

“Alright, wheels up in 30,” Hotch announces and everyone gathers their stuff to leave the room.

You waited until everyone left and you hurried towards Spencer.

“Hey,” you greet, but his eyes didn’t meet yours. “Spence, I’m sorry. Can we stop fighting?”

“I have to finish reading the case,” Spencer says nonchalantly as he walks out of the office with his face still buried in the file. You frown and head outside to meet everyone in the jet, completely frustrated with Spencer.

Once you landed in the unsub’s territory and reported to the local P.D., you couldn’t help but look back at the plane ride to here. Spencer ignored you like he had in the meeting room, and he talked to everyone but you. Usually, he would sit by you and the two of you would either talk or read something, but he avoided you like the black plague. You tried meeting up with him when he was getting coffee, but he poured it at the speed of light just so he could avoid speaking to you.

“Y/L/N, are you feeling okay?” Hotch asks you silently after he assigned everyone to different locations. “You seem out of it.”

“Yeah, just the case has me feeling uneasy,” you lie, but he takes it.

“Alright then, you and Morgan better get to the coroner’s then,” he nods towards the car and you agree. You slip into the passenger’s seat and wait impatiently for Derek to get into the car.

“Come on, Derek,” you call for him outside the window. “I’m not getting any younger here.”

“Alright, alright, princess,” he puts his hands out in defense as he steps out of the sheriff’s department. “No rush.”

“Yes rush,” you scoff. “People are dying.”

“What’s got you so mad anyway?” Morgan asks as he starts the car. “Trouble in paradise?”

“What makes you think that?” You question curiously as you look out the window.

“Your usual bubbly self is quiet and irritated, you got here late and without Reid. Plus, the kid’s not giving you the time of day.”

“That obvious?”

“You guys aren’t slick,” Morgan chuckles.

While the two of you are at a stoplight, a car pulls up beside you. A large, rusted white pickup truck. You feel an uneasy feeling in your stomach and you gulp as the man driving the car looks at you with such wonder and lust in his eyes.

“Morgan, the vehicle beside me matches the unsub’s,” you explain quietly.

“What?” Morgan looks to your side, but the car was gone. “Y/N, you sure you’re alright?”

Seconds after the question rolls off his lips, a car slams into the rear end of the car, sending both you and Morgan flying forward toward the dashboard with the seatbelts still holding you back. Morgan regains his composure quickly and tries driving off, but in the seconds that the two of you were off guard, the unsub had driven to face your side.

“Morgan, go!” You yell. Morgan had tried speeding away, but the unsub was quicker. The unsub smashed into your side, causing the whole car to turn over. Pieces of glass were digging into your skin and you could feel the blood trickling down your head as the car lied on its side.

“Y/N!” Morgan calls as the two of you absorb the third hit, flipping the car completely upside down. You began to cough violently, the world was spinning and you could barely focus. The street intersection was a ghost town except for the rusty truck parked beside the totaled squad car. A pair of boots hit the pavement beside you, causing all your blood to run cold. You attempted to unbuckle your seatbelt, but you noticed a huge piece of glass sticking out of your side. You peer over at Derek to find him unconscious with little to no scratches.

As you were reaching over to the control center to call for help, you hear the door beside you open and you’re met with the same black boots from earlier.


A/N

There is going to be a part 2 to this!! It would have been way too long to be one imagine so I am going to split it! Sorry for any mistakes ;’)))

bugheadjonesiii  asked:

I will set the scene with my words. Betty is sleeping and she gets awoken suddenly by a certain pupper licking her face and there is a gift attached to his collar that she doesn't see immediately and behind the dog is jughead and child presenting her with breakfast in bed on Mother's Day. If this is too specific ignore me

While I love the finale, and Serpent!Juggie and Dark!Betty, and Bughead smut, I think I needed to take the time to just write something a little shorter and fluffier - hope you enjoy!
(I couldn’t resist the tiniest bit of angst so there’s a very brief mention of pre-natal depression, just as a warning.)


Betty’s mind clung to the quiet depths of peaceful slumber. Sleep was a luxury these days, and while the wakeful hours brought her nothing but joy she was definitely grateful for the moments her head finally hit the soft feather pillows of her bed. She welcomed the snug cocoon her duvet provided her, wriggling further into its embrace and pushing her cheek into the pillow in an attempt to stay asleep just that little bit longer.

The rough, sandpaper tongue moving incessantly against her cheek had other ideas, though. She sighed through parted lips as she let her eyelids begin to flutter, knowing this was the beginning of the end for her Sunday lie-in. Why does he never lick Jughead’s face first? Betty thought with drowsy affection, picturing the shaggy fur of their beloved sheepdog awaiting her. She lifted the arm that was hanging off the side of the mattress, her hand feeling like a slight dead weight from where it had lost circulation in the night, to pat his soft head.

“Morning, Hot Dog,” she rasped, throat thick with sleep as she scratched behind his ears, the sound of his rhythmic panting finally making its way through her sleep-addled brain.

“Morning, Mommy,” a voice replied. Betty jumped in surprise, rolling onto her back and lifting her eyes to glance down to the foot of the bed. The sight that greeted her filled her chest with warmth, all traces of sleepiness vanishing in an instant. A bright grin spread across her face as she stretched, one fist coming down to rub at her eyes.

“Hi, baby,” she cooed at the little girl who was bouncing in Jughead’s sturdy hands. Juliet let out a happy gurgle at the sight of her mom, reaching out to Betty with chubby fists. Betty scooped her up, pulling her close to nuzzle her nose into the soft fuzz of her hair. There was nothing quite like the scent of babies, it was genetically intoxicating.

Both parents laughed as Juliet began to blow bubbles from between her rose petal lips, her spit joining Hot Dog’s on Betty’s cheek. Betty couldn’t help but melt as her daughter flashed a toothless smile, her attempts at giggles filling the room. Jughead stared at them fondly, still unable to believe his luck.

Betty looked up at him, beautiful even with a million fly-aways from her bun surrounding her bare face. She was radiant all on her own, no matter how she looked, no matter the time of day. Her every flaw made her perfect.

“Good morning,” she murmured bashfully, still unable not to blush under his gaze, even after all these years - he wouldn’t trade that for the world. It gave him a certain pride to know that he could invoke such reactions without even a touch of his fingers, his lips, to her skin. Jughead crawled up the bed, bouncing next to his wife on the mattress in a mess of long, graceless limbs. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pressing a delicate kiss to her temple as she leant into his side.

“Happy First Mother’s Day,” he said into her hair, unquenchable smile on his lips. Betty stilled in his arms for a moment before letting the tension leave her frame. She turned to look at him with wide, unassuming eyes.

“My first one,” she whispered, awe colouring her voice. Jughead tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, fingers trailing down to trace the marks left by the pillow on her reddened cheek.

“The first of many,” he confirmed with a gentle smile. Betty turned from him to look again at Juliet - she’d already learnt to sit on her own and was grasping at the sheets with curious hands.

Jughead slipped one of his fingers between all of hers, shaking it playfully when she clasped on. Betty bit her lip as she watched the scene before her, unable to believe some days that they’d made it to this place. It was an uncertain road, from that day she invited him to write for the Blue and Gold to them sitting here on their bed. It had been unimaginably hard at times - Betty would never forget the almost crushing weight she’d felt throughout her pregnancy, the doctor’s assuring her that pre-natal depression was a common occurrence. But Betty knew that after all the loss that she’d already faced in her life that it was more than that. It was on her, it was all on her, to make sure this baby made it safely into the world. After such uncertainty plaguing their lives Betty wasn’t sure she could do it.

And then there was Jughead. Oh, how much she needed Jughead. The intensity of her feelings for the boy who climbed through her window to slay all of her demons alongside her still took her breath away. They were so in tune; he always knew when to stay away, when to drift closer. He’d coaxed her out of the darkest times during those nine months, drawing her into the light in the way he always told her she had done for him in their youth.

The light had never shone brighter than when she was born - Juliet. Betty’s fondness for the name had made him laugh, his heart fluttering in his chest at the memories it held for both of them.

“We made her, Jug. We made her together,” Betty kept repeating incredulously as they stared down at the bundle in her arms. Jughead had placed a kiss against her still damp forehead, tears beginning their trail down his cheeks.

“Always together.”

Betty was brought out of her reverie by the squeals filling the air, Jughead having lunged forward to blow raspberries against Juliet’s little, round belly. Betty let out a joyous laugh, shaking her head at the childlike quality she hoped her husband would never grow out of. Jughead glanced over his shoulder at her, features slightly obstructed by the dark curl falling into his eyes.

“Hot Dog was supposed to bring you your gift,” he began, sitting up to come closer to her ear as he dropped his voice. “But I guess you just taste too good,” he murmured, delighting in Betty’s involuntary shiver. She swatted his shoulder playfully as he smirked.

“A gift?” she asked cheekily, not-so-subtly bringing the conversation back to the topic of her present. Jughead rolled his eyes affectionately, lifting Juliet into his lap.

“Check his collar.” Betty’s brows furrowed as she leant over to where Hot Dog was standing with two paws on the mattress, watching his family interact with glistening eyes. Betty peered around his head, fingers reaching to unclip the box she hadn’t noticed from the leather strap.

Upon opening it she gasped, hand coming to her chest.

“Look inside,” Jughead encouraged, pleased with her reaction. Betty’s fingers trembled as she lifted the delicate silver pendant out of its velvet bed, twisting it back and forth so the early morning light could illuminate the intricate engravings on the metal. She fiddled with the clasp, popping it open to see what Jughead had filled it with.

There were two pictures. The first was of Betty and Jughead, curled around each other as teenagers in a booth at Pop’s - their safe place. Betty could still feel the vinyl beneath her fingertips if she focused hard enough, the smell of fries and the taste of whipped cream clouding her senses. On the other side was a picture of Jughead, handsomely dishevelling in his first few days as a father, gazing down at a soft pink bundle in his arms.

“Now, no matter what happens, you’ll always have us with you,” Jughead told her, smiling hopefully. Tears brimmed along Betty’s waterline, threatening to fall as she held the jewellery close to her heart. She brushed her lips tenderly against Jughead’s, closing her eyes tightly against the overwhelming sweetness. When she pulled back she ran a soothing hand over Juliet’s head, taking in her family before her.

“Always together,” she repeated their phrase. As if it was written in the very foundations of Riverdale, they would always be together.

Plans (Pietro x Reader) ( Avengers x Reader)

I have a super specific request! Could you do one where all the Avengers(including Bucky and the twins) get Intel on a girl that supposedly has powers of being able to control elements, who was kidnapped by Loki, so the Avengers try to rescue her and offer her a spot? And maaaayyyybee Pietro has a slight romantic interest in her? Thank you!!
——————————–
(Y/N) was already having a terrible day. Her mind was scattered as she wasted her day away at the dead end cafe she had been working at to pay for her average New York apartment. The customers were generally nice, but as always there were a few stragglers pushing her limits.

A woman complained and screamed at her because her food wasn’t coming fast enough, like (Y/N) even had anything to do with the wait! Another person had come in for a cheeseburger, but then sent it back because it had too much cheese. Seriously, how were these people even considered smart enough to be left alone?

And now there was a tall slender figure silently watching her from a corner table. He never ordered, and somehow, wasn’t asked to leave. She had only made eye contact with him once during his stay, but when she did, shivers ran down her spine. His eyes reminded her of the deep, green pines on the fir trees of her hometown. His cold eyes never left hers as his lips tilted up into a smirk, causing (Y/N) to flit her eyes away.

She glanced at the clock and noticed she had about three minutes until her shift ended. She cleaned up her area and hung up her apron as she grabbed her phone from her locker. Her apartment was in walking distance, so she didn’t really feel like wasting the money on a taxi or uber.

As she walked home there were sharp tingles on her lower back as she had the sensation of someone watching her. She shook it off and speed walked to her apartment.

She slid her keys into the lock and twisted, feeling the resistance of her door give way. She walked in and rested her back against it, breathing out a sigh of relief.

(Y/N) slid off her shoes and scurried to her bedroom, still full of jitters. She changed out of her work uniform into an oversized sweater and tall socks.

The soft fabric of her sweater brushed against the tops of her thighs as she maneuvered her way to the kitchen. She dug out a ceramic mug and set it on the edge of the counter, before running back to her bedroom and grabbing her phone off the charger. With her circumstances, she always had to have it near her, in case she had to leave quickly.

Ever since the chemical accident of her father’s lab she had when she was five, (Y/N) could control the elements. As her memories washed up in her mind like the ocean’s shore, the crash of a fallen object fell on her ears. (Y/N) went into panic mode, and silently, she crept into her kitchen. As she turned the corner, she quickly conjured up ice as to freeze the intruder.

When the ice touched his skin he just gave a small smile with a quirked brow as he stopped the ice in its tracks. “Wrong choice, little one,” He sauntered towards her and, in her shock of someone just blowing her powers away, she let him. He was very tall compared to her stature and had to lean down to whisper in her ear. “The beautiful ones are most often the most breakable, shall we test that?” His voice, as soft as it was, only made her more terrified.

She spun away from him quickly, throwing a blast of fire at the man, she recognized him now of course, who would not recognize the man who destroyed New York? As the flame enveloped him, he simply disappeared. She quickly began to back up as he reappeared as soon as the heat was gone, marching towards her. She did not hit her entryway, as expected, but a solid chest, and a green mist was the last the thing she saw.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The New York Super Squad as Clint called them was enjoying a rather boring day, until that is, Thor crashed through the damn roof. Tony stood to the side, motioning greatly to the now gaping hole in his fabulous tower, “Do Asgardians have a dictionary? Because I don’t think the word door is in there! Are you too cool to knock, or just say ‘Hey bro let me in?’ It’s not that hard!” Thor stood straight and tried his hardest to look sheepish.

“The reason I have entered so suddenly is of great care,” He pronounced to the now gathered team. “Loki has escaped, and seems to be holding a young enhanced Midgardian captive,” He finished, looking at the now attentive friends.

“Doesn’t mean a door was hard to use though!” Tony snarked. Steve glared at the inconsiderate Stark, as he stood to grab his gear and rally the team.

“Alright! Thor, I want all the information you got! Everybody else, suit up!”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(Y/N) quickly raised her pounding head from the luxurious pillow, quickly regretting her decision as she looked over to see her abductor looking out over the window which viewed the- Well, she didn’t really know where she was. There was just an expanse of foliage stretching for what seemed to be miles. “Ah, you have awakened,” His voice was soft, which surprised her. Shouldn’t he be murdering her by now?

“I did not go through the struggle of abducting you, just to murder you. Not to say I will not go to that extreme if you do not comply, but that is not my plan,” He swiftly turned, facing her with those cruel green eyes.

“Then why? Why did you take me?” Her voice cracked at the end, even though she tried to hide it. He had already proved her powers were no good against him.

His rich laugh made her flinch. “Do not let your head swell. The only reason you are not dead is because I can use you,” The God of Lies smirked, making his angular face appear sharper than usual.

“You gonna try and take over the world again? Cause last time that didn’t go over so well, in case you didn’t notice,” She mouthed with a curl of her lip.

The smirk on his mouth promptly dropped and twisted, turning into a snarl. He stalked towards her on the bed, her hands now finding themselves bound to the oak bed frame. She immediately tugged against them, eyes going wide. “Don’t touch me!”

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in disgust at what she was implying. “Do not flatter yourself, little one,” He talked sweetly, the opposite of this situation. “I could have you begging on your knees if I wished. I would never take someone unwilling.”

She averted her eyes as his own raked her face. “You never answered my question,” she veered the conversation. “Why are you trying to take over again? Because I won’t help you!”

His eyes never left her face as he gracefully sat on the edge of the king bed. “I am not trying to control your little Midgard, I am trying to rule Asgard. And from what I have witnessed, you are so very lonely. Always having to run from governments and regimes, much too fearful to try and make an acquaintance. Think of it, no more running. You can be at peace, ruling by my side.”

For a long moment, there was an expression of pure longing on her features, but to Loki’s chagrin, soon dissipated. “Murdering innocents to get what you want is not peace!”

Just as Loki was about to turn to the use of threats, there was a large crash in what she assumed was the main part of the residence. He assumed a defensive position as the noises of chaos came closer.

“The Avengers and my brother will come for you. But this will not be our last meeting, little one,” He chuckled as if he knew a secret which did not inspire much confidence.

He dragged his hands over her wrists; the bindings falling away with his touch. He stood back, laughing as his whole menacing figure quickly snapped out of existence.

Right as she lost sight of him, a speeding blur of blue rushed into the room. She quickly raised her now free hands up in defense; the shivers of fear from the previous encounter lingered. “Who are you?” She asked, her voice tight with exhaustion.

His face snapped towards her so fast it was like he had never moved at all. He rushed to the bedside and her breath caught at the beauty in his face. He lowered himself towards her, an accented voice asking, “Are you alright?”

She nodded swinging her legs to the edge of the bed, and attempting to stand. He quickly pulled her into his arms before she could fall all the way to the ground. “Sorry,” she mumbled as the blood rushed to her face. “I swear I’m not usually this helpless, I just-”

He smiled then, a warm show of white teeth as he assured her, “It’s fine. Trust me when I met his brother I was on the ground for a while, too,” he recalled the failure of stealing mjolnir with a grimace.

“The others will want to know you are alright, we should go,” He carried her through what she now knew was a remote cabin somewhere.

He carried her until they were in a stealth aircraft, what he called the Quinjet. Setting her on the bench seats, he started introducing himself, “I am Pietro Maximoff, and my twin is Wanda, although she isn’t here right now. The rest of the team is on their way out. Do you have any idea where Loki went?”

Processing that information she tried to navigate through her jumbled thoughts. “He said he would see me again, but that was all he said. So I doubt, you’ll have to look too hard to find him.”

He furrowed his brow. He knew why Loki wanted her on his side. It was the same reason they would try to recruit her. But why would he give her up so easily? His thoughts were interrupted when the rest of his team entered the jet.

Thor was the first to come up, bending on one knee and apologizing with utmost sincerity for his brother’s actions. He asked if she was okay, and then the rest of the team introduced themselves, the tension in the air melting away.

Steve was the only one standing when he started giving the recruitment speech that the others should have known by heart by now. Before Steve could thoroughly confuse her, Pietro quickly burst in, “(Y/N) we would be more than happy to help you harness your abilities and to have you join us.”

(Y/N) looked to him before smiling. “I’ll do it, but I need a lot of training,” she looked back on her fight with Loki, that proved she had lots of work ahead of her.

“You’re still pretty kickass, Avatar.” Were the words Tony decided to chime in, making her smile turn into full fledged laughter. She was going to like it here very much.

2

The Royal Romance

Inside Choices is a behind-the-scenes blog from the Pixelberry team. Got any suggestions for future blog posts? Let us know!

It’s been an exciting few weeks at Pixelberry! Spring is in full bloom, and with it, we’ve seen the release of the newest The Crown & The Flame book and Endless Summer’s grand finale – and yes, Endless Summer: Book 2 is currently in the works.

But that’s not all we’ve got in store for you! We just released The Royal Romance, a thrilling whirlwind of love that doubles as a spin-off of Rules of Engagement. It’s the first of several new books we’re hoping to unveil throughout the spring and summer.

The Choices team is pretty much constantly hard at work on current and future books… but I did manage to snag the two writers from The Royal Romance for a quick chat:

Let’s hit the basics first. What is The Royal Romance about?

Jennifer: ‘The Royal Romance’ is about a normal girl who has one magical night with a prince and makes the spontaneous decision to travel to his kingdom to try to win his heart. But will you end up with him or fall for someone else along the way?

Kara: We’ll sometimes start off with a guideline, kind of like a one-line prompt. For Rules of Engagement, for example, our goal was something more dramatic than The Freshman and following four different characters. For The Royal Romance, our premise was to write a fish-out-of-water romance about a normal girl who gets swept into the world of royalty. We knew we wanted there to be some kind of competition element to it, so what we ended up with was something like a cross between The Bachelor and The Prince and Me–all of the thrill of falling in love with the adventure of traveling and trying to compete for the person you love.

It’s always fun spotting the crossovers in different Choices books and seeing the universe grow. How did you settle on the idea of creating a Rules of Engagement spin-off?

Jennifer: We’d already started developing the kingdom of Cordonia for Rules of Engagement, and when we found out we’d be making a romantic, royalty-focused book, it seemed like a good opportunity to expand the world and dig deeper into what it’s like there since you don’t see it very much in Rules.

Kara: Technically, The Royal Romance is also a continuation of The Crown & The Flame, though that may be a little more subtly done! One of the characters, Olivia, is a descendant of Zenobia, who appears in book 2 of TC&TF. Readers can probably tell that we love crossovers. Part of that’s because we all love seeing what the whole team is working on, so we play all the Choices books. But part of it’s also because writers will switch books when we need to help out with something else. For example, Jennifer moved from The Freshman to help launch Rules of Engagement. The writers from Most Wanted are currently working on Endless Summer and #LoveHacks, as you might have figured out from all the mysteries and jokes! Braidwood Manor had a writer from The Freshman on it, which is why there’s some cameos there.

Sometimes it can be hard when you work on a story for so long to then move on to start up another book. Leaving The Crown & The Flame to focus more on Rules and The Royal Romance was really difficult for me because I love those characters so much, but TC&TF was fortunate to have two other amazingly talented writers to keep it going. We’re always excited to get the chance to tell new stories, tackle new genres, and experiment with new ideas, but I think we all also have so much love for the other characters and worlds we’ve created that it breaks our hearts to leave them behind. I think that’s why we have so many crossovers in the whole game! It’s our way of taking our worlds with us.

What do you personally love most about The Royal Romance? And what are you most excited for our readers to encounter?

Kara: One cool thing we really wanted to do was have people get to pick their prince. This is the first time we’ve let you customize a love interest! Another thing I’m excited for is that because we’re using the same customizable character as #LoveHacks, we were able to get more skin tones and facial features so players have more options for how to customize their own character, too.

Jennifer: Also, we’ve had a lot of fun building up the characters around the Prince, and if dating a prince isn’t your cup of tea, it’s quite possible there are other lady and gentleman suitors for players to encounter.

All of our books have, to varying degrees, some romance in them. But this book is unabashedly about romance - it’s in the title! What are your thoughts on romance as its own genre?

Jennifer: I love romance and reading romance! Whenever I talk to people about it, though, they usually bring it up in a guilty way like maybe it’s something to be embarrassed over or perhaps because some don’t really see it as real literature. It makes me sad when people feel like they need to be ashamed of what they like! It feels sometimes like certain genres are deemed less literary or worthy, and I feel like the genres that get called out are often ones that are loved by women or young adults. A certain genre might not be for everyone, but that doesn’t make it less important to the people who care about it.

I think romance stories have a lot of heart, and that’s something I love in storytelling. To me, ultimately, a good romance is about seeing how people relate to one another and find meaning in their life. Connecting with people–whether it’s romantic or not–is a fundamental part of existing, and romance stories have the opportunity to explore that. And if you can find something real in what you’re reading, then isn’t that the point?

This book came together while you were simultaneously working on Rules of Engagement. That’s taking multi-tasking to a whole new level. How do you do it? Just how much coffee do you drink in a day?

Kara: Sometimes it feels like we never stop working! When you love the stories and the characters as much as we do, it can be really hard to stop thinking about them, even in the middle of the night. Plus, Jennifer and I have been best friends since high school, so we spend a lot of time outside of the office together, and when we’re excited about a project, we can’t stop talking about it. On New Year’s Eve this year, we were brainstorming The Royal Romance while everyone else was watching the ball drop.

At the end of the day, though, this isn’t just a job to us, and I hope it shows in the stories Choices puts out. It’s crazy how much we end up caring about the characters and the stories we’re telling. I think that’s the hardest part. We love writing and we want to do our best, tell the best story, and write something that will touch people. In most other forms of writing, you’d get a lot more time to agonize and revise, but we’ve got to hit weekly releases, so when Wednesday comes, time’s up. There’s a lot of pressure to write well, write fast, and, in this case, to build something new in a very short amount of time. The scariest thing is feeling like with so many things that go into every chapter and every book, and so many deadlines to hit, we might mess something up and let our fans down. But when it all goes right and we put out something that readers love, it makes it all worth it!

Finally… I’ve got to know. What’s your favorite fairy tale princess story?

Kara: Sleeping Beauty! I was convinced after I heard that story that my parents would some day reveal that I was actually a princess in hiding…

Jennifer: Cinderella. I love it as a transformative rags-to-riches story and also as a tale that you can see told across many different cultures. I do tend to favor more modern interpretations though, like the novels Just Ella or Ella Enchanted which are two of my favorite books.

Thank you for taking the time to chat! And to all of you reading along, The Royal Romance is out now – check into your game for a whirlwind of love, adventure, and more! Hope you love it just as much as we do.

-Jessica

The Project

I really enjoyed writing this so I hope that you enjoy reading it! I picked Jimin because he can be so soft and squishy which fit into my idea for the scenario.

Please feel free to request more! I am currently on spring break from college and need something to do!

Word Count: 2,655

Pairing: Jimin X Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Some strong language, some innuendos. Do not read if you are not comfortable.

Description: Group projects are always hard, especially when you have the school’s bad boy, Park Jimin, as your uninterested partner. Things take an interesting turn when you figure out a way to involve him in the project as well as get some revenge on him.

Originally posted by princejimineee

(Gif is not ours. Credit to princejimineee. Also can we just talk about how amazing their editing is??? People are so talented wow. I have stared at this gif for like ten minutes.)


Fingers crossed tightly under your desk, you hoped for a good partner for your lab project. Taemin was pretty smart, so you were hoping to get him to be your partner, not to mention he was pretty cute as well. Your heart was beating quickly as the teacher rattled off names of partners, not hearing yours yet. Come on, please! You begged internally, anxious to just have your partner already. The room was filled with quiet whispers of partners who were already matched, making you almost miss your name.

“…min and Y/N,” your teacher droned. You let out a huge breath of relief and picked up your books to go sit by Taemin to discuss your project ideas. You had been excited for this project, so you had already come up with multiple ideas written neatly in your trusty spiral notebook.

Just as you had gathered your materials and started to get up from your seat, a hand grabbed your elbow stopping you in your tracks, your body going rigid at the tight grasp spreading warmth through your sweater.

“Hey, where are you going?” a smooth voice asked. You whipped your head around to see Jimin, the troublemaker who sat in the back of the class, usually sleeping or talking to the boy next to him. You had seen him out with a group of boys before, obviously up to no good. The whole school was afraid to cross any of the members for fear of the group coming after them. A self-confident smirk sat on his smooth face. What did he want from you? You wondered.

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billboard.com
Darren Criss & Brother Chuck Talk New, 'Unapologetically Fun' Alt-Pop Project, Computer Games

Darren Criss was always destined to make a career out of music. He studied the violin from age 5 well into his teenage years, picking up other instruments along the way, while also pursuing a love for musical theater. But he credits his own musical endeavors to the environment in which he grew up – particularly his older brother, Chuck, who brought other musical interests to the table especially when they were in high school.

“Music has always been the backbone of our relationship and our household,” Darren tells Billboard. “We both had a voracious appetite for music, but I think high school is when we started playing together and being to communicate on a level that changed everything. I think the kind of music we played is probably loud garage rock, because we were just playing in the basement.”

Once they graduated, though, the Criss brothers decided to take their own paths. Darren independently released a solo EP, Human, in July 2010, just months before debuting in his breakthrough role as dreamy choir head Blaine Anderson on Fox’s hit musical dramedy Glee, while Chuck found a home in New York City and became a founding member of indie-rock fivesome Freelance Whales.

With Glee seeing its end in 2015 and Freelance Whales’ most recent album hailing from 2012, both Criss brothers were itching to do something new musically – so they thought, why not relive the days of the brotherly collaborations? And come March 8, 2017, behold, the Criss alt-pop project Computer Games.

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J/C Fic - 

Set right at the close of this scene in S02E12

Personal Disclaimer: If you want to follow me after reading this, know that I am a shipper, and proud to be here. The only time I jump ship, is for a quick skinny dip into the warm waters. I mostly write S/C - very smutty - fic, which can be found: 

http://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSummerBreeze


To Grieve for that Which Has Yet to be Lost


“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Sassenach.”

I sighed heavily, the weight of our world consuming me, “You be careful.”

He kissed me then, his lips, warm and cracked from the wind, lingered longer than he intended. I felt the pain and anger, the hurt and fear, all melt into Jamie’s palm as he held my face, his smile against my lips, warming my tired and achy body.  I felt my arms float up, to wrap around his neck, my feet, high on their toes, pulled him in close. Jamie made a soft sound, low in his throat. A mix of apprehensive, with so much going on, but a desire to seize the moment. This one glimmer of a second we had to ourselves. To feel like husband and wife. Man, and woman.

Thought gave way to desire, and desire succumbed to need, falling to its knees in submission. Jamie lifted me to the table in the centre of the room. My legs, too heavy and thick from my clothes to circle his thighs, simply dangled above the wooden floor, as he ushered us over. He rested me atop the table, our lips never parting. I struggled to remove his clothes, desperate for his skin on mine. With the weather, all the men around us, and this bloody war, the moments we had, were always stolen. Never given to us freely, but pulled out from under the noses of those in the night, like thieves. When the pressure got too intense to ignore, he would pull me aside, ducking into the forest, or roll over top me in our barely hidden tent. His time inside my body, my body yielding to his, were so rushed and exposed that our minds had little time to catch up to our actions, only acknowledging the passionate kiss, or hard thrust hitting my cervix and stifled cry of pleasure, when it had long since been over.

But now, I didn’t care if the whole damn British army knocked down our door. Whether they stood and watched, or ran us through. My only hope in that case, was that if their sword penetrated Jamie’s back, to pierce his heart, the sword was long enough to strike me through as well. I lived for him, and he for me, and I bloody well planned on taking that trip to heaven or hell, right alongside him.

Our lips divided as I struggled to unknot his neck kerchief. His fingers aided me, our joint efforts fruitful as we flung the small piece of fabric aside. I felt Jamie’s lips touch my neck, sucking and biting, the craving for flesh, instinctive, deep in the marrow of our bones. We shed him of his clothes, the sound of weapons hitting the ground as his kilt fell to the floor.

The moment naked skin exposed itself to the dampness of the room, lips were quick to burn away the chill. My butting body shook the table, the complaints against the wooden floor, drowned in our passionate cries and grunting possession.

I wanted to fall from the table. I wanted to kneel at his feet and worship his manhood, as it stood proud, raised high from his groin, but Jamie stopped me. He pushed me back against the table, my body lying flat, as he shimmied the last of my skirts out from under my bum. He quickly grabbed my arms, hauling me forward, and pulling my shift above my head.

We were free.

Jamie grabbed my behind, his knuckles scraping the wood. I could see his face wince in pain, before he took my lips in his, and pulled me up against him, his cock finding home. Gasps of pleasure parted our lips as we stilled. I cried, out of anger, out of fear and pleasure, and out of a love for the man that belonged nowhere but in my arms and in my body. I rocked forward, urging him deeper, but pulled my head back to watch the emotions play across his face. He felt everything I did. Felt it as deep in his soul as I did mine.

I placed each hand on his cheeks, his eyes opening slowly, fixing on me as he made love to my body.

Jamie wiped my tears, “Please, dinna cry. I canna bear it.”

“I’m not sad, Jamie. Just stay in my arms forever, and I will never be sad.”

He smiled, but his eyes betrayed him. They weakened, and I could see the guards rise up from their restful sleep, holding the tears at bay. “Ah, mo nighean donn, even if you’re no with me, I always feel yer arms around my body.”

He continued his slow movement, sheathing himself with my body.

“If, in my final moment, a man charges toward me, pistol aimed to my breast, he will no bear a red coat and pistol for long. For I will know that is the end, and my eyes will close, and it will be you comin for me, to take me in yer arms. And when they find my body on that soggy moor,” he kissed me softly, his pulse jolting through my lips, before pulling away, “they will find me with the greatest of smiles upon my face.”

I shook my head out of disbelief, then nodded. “I will be there.”

“Good,” he smiled, genuinely. “Now, can I move quicker inside ya, Sassenach, my balls ache somethin fierce.”

I laughed a laugh that carried throughout my whole body, clenching my insides, that saw the most exquisite of looks crease Jamie’s features, before he sped up his movements inside me.

Jamie grunted with each thrust, his eyes, tight in concentration, would flutter open for the briefest of moments, smile at me, then they’d shut again. I grasped at his back, surely adding more scars with my nails to his skin. Jamie bent forward, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, pulling the flesh of my breast in to join, as much as he could, before he set them free with a pop and moved on to the other. I cried out, holding his face to my body. All thought escaped my mind as he drank from my dried well, but my nipples ached in the most stimulating of ways. A way I thought I had all but forgotten, but the memory flooded my body and I could feel my breast fill with the very thought and hope.

Jamie’s hands rounded my buttocks, pulling me tight against him as he picked me up, carrying me to the wall, pushing my fiery flesh against the cool frame, the burning fireplace next to us, doing little to fill the room. I arched at the shock, wrapping my legs around his waist, but he paid no attention to my gasp.  He pushed fiercely into my centre, his testicles slapping my body, like a palm hitting still water. He pushed up inside me, each time, my body rising higher and higher against the wall, cutting into my skin. Jamie’s position reached the parts of me that only he had the skill of reaching each time, with our lovemaking.

I reached between our bodies, tickling and tugging the wiry bits of hair I could feel above his cock. I jutted a finger out, grazing his pink flesh each time he pulled free of my body. Jamie gasped, his head falling to my shoulder.

“Do tha again, Sassenach,” he sighed urgently.

I could feel his saliva against my shoulder as his pace quickened. I did it again. Scraped my nail along his penis. He groaned, and pushed back in. Then out. I scraped it once more. We sang the song a few times before finally, he pulled out, lingering in the open air, with only the tip keeping my lips open for him. My fingers wrapping around him completely. I held his head close to my shoulder with my free hand, and with a sudden squeeze, I let go of his penis, and he plunged back in me with finality, calling out words in Gaelic I had never heard him say before. He filled my body, his warm semen splashing my insides and coating me in all he had to give. I was right behind him, my orgasm coursing through me angrily as Jamie moved a hand to my breast, pinching a nipple.

Our labored breath was the only proof of life, as we curled into each other against the wall. The dank room emerged around us once more, letting its cool air spear our skin, leaving gooseflesh in its violent wake.  I felt him shiver, and pulled him in closer.

“We should get dressed.” I loathed saying the words. I wanted my vocal chords ripped from my body before they could escape my mouth, but some things cannot be put off.

Jamie pulled back, but stayed protected within my embrace. His forehead fell to mine.

“See, Sassenach. It doesna matter what tomorrow brings. I’ll always be here. In your arms. You’ll always be a part of me, and I, you.”

Jamie kissed my forehead, then pulled free, making for our scattered clothes tossed about the floor. I watched him pick up my garments first. It was always his way. It didn’t matter if chills racked his body, he’d make sure I was safe and warm first. I was always first in his mind.

“Always with me,” I whispered back, as my abandoned arms fell, my hand falling to my stomach,palm pressed hard to my belly, knowing, and weeping inside.

hufflebee  asked:

a very vague prompt, but still a great concept: malec + forehead kisses

Thank you francy!! Hope you like it ♥


If music be the food of love, play on. ( – Shakespeare)


It were the little things that changed after their big confession.

There was no sudden shift, no world that was turned on its axis. The revelation did not arrive violently, did not change their relationship in an irrevocable way.

Still with abrupt realisation came a budding awareness of his feelings that Alec had not been granted before.
Love seeped into every word, every touch, every kiss that they shared. And though it has always been there, in a way that Alec has come to see, being able to put a word to the warmth that spread through his chest whenever he thought of the man he loved was a soft relief. Taking his hand and guiding his heart into the right direction, it had led him right where he belonged. It was funny, he thought, that it took him so long to understand when the feeling could not be any clearer to him now.

And even while leaning on the kitchen counter, watching Magnus cook, he could not keep that thought out of his mind.

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anonymous asked:

Hello 😊 sooooo I've JUST recently gotten into SHINee ( honestly I've been wanting to get into SHINee for a while but I've just been lazy until now) so I'm new to the fandom--whooop! - So I was wondering, is there anything I should know about SHINee? Also could you recommend me anything SHINee related?

welcome to the fandom, sweetpea!

there’s a lot of history to tell from these past ten years, so I’ll give you a condensed version of things (there was this huge masterpost/introduction on shinee I was going to link but I can’t seem to find anywhere otl; I’ll keep searching for it, though); even more so because… I believe it’s easier, in fact, to learn about them slowly and steadily as you become more and more involved with them.

so, take all the time you need! it’s really more exciting to fall in love with the boys little by little tbh.

forget about the typical roles found in kpop groups: all five are vocals (and visuals). shinee as a whole is very different from currently active/3rd generation groups - even though they’ve been on the run for longer, they are still young, they always bring in new, exciting concepts and flawless performances and tend to be compared to rookies in what concerns their energy on stage; meaning, they work as hard and with as much enthusiasm as a group that just debuted. 

taemin is very clumsy and has a habit of losing/breaking things by accident. (important: he hates bugs and I don’t say this lightly.) he’s very reserved and an introvert, but he loves his close friends and family dearly. usually more comfortable somewhere with food available. the personification of persistence and passion for what he does. also, he’s a soloist with three (Korean: Ace and Press It / Japanese: Sayonara Hitori) successful albums released. (you can find my - heavily biased - picks of favorite taem videos here.)

oh and still related to taemin - we have this thing where chanting his name brings in luck, apparently

minho is everyone’s dream boy: acts, raps, sings, writes his own lyrics, is gorgeous and charming and athletic, always working hard to become a better version of himself and the sweetest being you’ll ever hear about. he’s tall and big and all, yes, but don’t fool yourself: he’s soft, affectionate, touchy and a Real sap 24/7. his dad pretty much adopted the other four. he starred on a movie titled ‘Derailed’ recently; on KBS’s Hwarang: The Beginning and a bunch of dramas you can find on a masterlist at the end of this post.

key is a hardworking, inspirational and real example of someone who’s been through a lot and has a lot to useful advice to share based on previous experiences (also, he’s the king of aesthetics). he knows where he stands and doesn’t take bullshit from anyone - that’s why he’s the one to quickly shut down any member who’s being Too Much during an interview/show/etc; which is funny, because key himself is full of energy and will like, do the most for as long as he can get away with it. he’s been featured in a bunch of musicals and took part in a duo, Toheart, back in 2014. solo projects include a collab song with Axodus and an ost with NCT’S Doyoung.

a guide on how much of a sweetheart is kim jonghyun - he’s a complex being with a heart much too big and we’re always learning something new about him. I think the best way to get to know him is through the blue night radio; as its dj, he often shares bits of himself you’ll learn to put together little by little and love as a whole. he’s a soloist, too, with two officially promoted albums (Base and She Is) and a self-composed compilation (Story Op.1) released.

onew is their strength, their main pillar; someone who doesn’t impose his views on the boys and who, in exchange, is extremely respected and loved by each of them (despite his dad jokes and bad puns - they adore him, I’m not even joking). no wonder he won leader of the year back in 2015. ah, yes - he’s a prime example of sunshine incarnate. (he acts, too! he was a rockstar on the musical Rock of Ages and a doctor on Descendants of the Sun.)

the boys are so genuine in themselves, to each other and to everyone else those who work with them are all about compliments and admiration

and it’s not without a reason everyone says they are a family

the importance of the year 2013 to shinee and shawols 

some songs you might want to check out (p.s.: their Japanese discography is amazing and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise)

they really like dogs

they’ve won a shit ton of awards since debut

they dote on their youngest like actual brothers

they are a mess™

shawolsource’s tag for masterposts of videos on each member + dl link for all their mvs (the last part compiled by me)

must watch (in my humble opinion): The Ultimate GroupSHINee’s Surprise Party for JonghyunVlive SHINee Begins and this mess of a promotional video

something I highly recommend checking on in terms of dancing and singing skills and the relationship between the members in general: their concerts. the first one I’ve ever watched was the SHINee World Concert III (which is still my favorite!) and if there’s anything that made me fall even harder for them, like… that was it. I can’t find link for all of them, sadly, but here you have the JATSWCII and SWCIV in full and playlists for the BMU TourI’m Your Boy Tour and DxDxD Tour.

some blogs that will help you out getting familiar with them are @fyjjong and @shineesubbed.

shawols wouldn’t ever miss a chance to go on and on about anything shinee, so - any questions, opinions or requests, don’t hesitate to hit one of us up. ♡

Your Face Between My Thighs

Summary/Prompt: After a long night out, both Tyler and I had longed to touch each other. To grope onto places that were in fact inappropriate to grope in public. The only feeling I wanted that night was feeling Tyler’s scruff on my inner thighs.
Length: 2354 words
Warnings: smut af, language, nsfw, oral sex, drinking
Pairings: Tyler Seguin x Reader

Authors Note: So its been about a year and a half since i last posted an imagine on here, so I thought why not now. Hopefully you guys enjoy this. Feedback and requests are also highly encouraged.

Originally posted by flyersphiladelphia

Was this really about to happen? I was fully aware of what exactly was going on around me, yet my mind wasn’t fully processing who was in front of me at this very moment.

As he spoke to me about something that had happened to him earlier, I couldn’t help but stare into his eyes. They were enthralling, like sparkling kaleidoscopes of colour. His brown-mahogany orbs scintillated with a mischievous glint that could be noticed next to the umber that rimmed his iris. They glow with humor and playfulness that never seem to escape his eyes. And for some reason, they looked like they had seen a lifetime, when in reality they had only seen a fraction.

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: It's Klaus birthday in NOLA and Rebekah secretly sent an invitation for Caroline, because the siblings have a secret bet going on about who's present gonna be the best. After 1000 what does one give to someone who can get whatever he wants :D

Kol is sipping a margarita, splayed out on one of the leather couches in their lounge room when she gets back from her shopping expedition in New Orleans.

The radio is on, playing one of those inane pop tunes that Kol for some reason seemed to love, and his foot is swaying lazily to the beat as he stares up at the fan whirring lazily on the ceiling above them.

“What on Earth are you doing?” She asks of Kol, whose eyes flick towards her, a self satisfied smile creeping across his face when he sees her.

“Celebrating.” Kol says with great relish, taking a sip of his margarita. “Can I offer you a drink, sister?”

“Knowing you you’ve probably spiked it with some sort of sleeping potion, so it’ll be a hard pass this time.” She replies with disdain, remembering the last time Elijah had accepted a drink from Kol, and had then promptly broken out in hives that had taken quite a few days to disappear, and only with the assistance of a witch that owed Elijah quite a few favours.

Kol had ended up with a dagger in his chest for a month before Elijah had deigned to make amends with him.

“God you’re all no fun.” Kol mumbles under his breath, sitting up on the couch and planting his booted feet on the floor. “And since you never asked what I was celebrating, I’m going to tell you anyway.”

“Of course you are.” She remarks dryly, tapping her foot against the floor, cursing the humidity that seemed to hang over New Orleans at this time of the year like an unpleasant shroud.

Already she can feel her hair sticking to the back of her neck, her clothes pressing to her skin unpleasantly. Maybe she could go for a swim a little later.

“Well, as you well know Bekah, Nik’s birthday is coming up. And I know that we all try and one up each other when it comes to buying him a gift. God knows why considering how many times he’s daggered us all… If anything he should be buying us presents to make up for it.” Kol is just thinking out loud now, and she can’t help but sigh, massaging her temples.

In fact, Nik had brought her plenty of gifts to make up for the whole daggering thing, knowing that she was materialistic at heart and was far more likely to respond positively to that than murmured platitudes and constant apologies.

She wouldn’t give up her designer wardrobe, villa in Tuscany, and private island for anything.

“Get to the point.” She snarls as Kol continues to mumble under his breath.

“Fine. I just want to tell you and Elijah that you shouldn’t bother trying this year, because I’ve got him the present to end all presents. The perfect gift.”

“You do?” She asks incredulously, because Kol’s idea of a perfect gift is usually a stripper or a gift voucher to some obscure store.

“I do.” Kol says with another smug smile. “So just don’t even go there this year Bekah. You’re not going to beat me!”

With that, Kol drains the rest of his margarita, falling back to lie on the couch once more.

Justin Bieber starts playing on the radio, and as she marches out of the room to escape the stupidity of the song, an idea begins to form in her mind.

Kol wasn’t going to know what hit him.


“I could get used to this.” Caroline Forbes remarks with a laugh, reclining on the pure white sand as the sun beats fiercely down on her skin.

“I’m not sure about the heat.” Enzo has propped himself up on her elbow next to her, Ray Bans covering most of his features as he takes in the crystalline blue water. “Although it is a beautiful corner of the world.”

She’d been dying to come to Australia for some time now, and she and Enzo had spent the last few months wandering the massive island continent. As she very quickly discovered, there was so much more to Australia than the cosmopolitan city of Sydney.

They went dune boarding at Port Stephens, a little coastal town three hours north east of the capital of NSW. They spent a week on the Gold Coast, checking out the bars and clubs that peppered the famous city.

They spent another week on a cattle ranch in the far flung part of Queensland that no one else ever seemed to go to, made friends with the locals as they had to revert back to animal blood momentarily.

The Northern Territory was amazing, as had been Western Australia. The Barossa Valley had been a favourite, rich wine country with vineyards stretching as far as the eye could see.

Enzo had loved Melbourne, loved the coffee culture and all the hip little laneway bars that were only discovered if you stumbled across them by accident. Someone had suggested the Whitsundays for their next destination, and after looking at some pictures online she and Enzo had very quickly booked one of the resorts there.

The past few days had been spent snorkelling on the Great Barrier reef, reclining on the deck of the sailboat they had hired, swimming in clear blue waters, and sampling some of the amazing food at the various restaurants dotted around the island.

She thanked her lucky stars that she technically couldn’t put on weight now that she was dead and all, so had absolutely no guilt about helping herself to a second or third plate of food at dinner time, washing it down with some wine.

“That it is.” She agrees quietly with Enzo, sipping at her bottle of water, watching clouds scud across the cornflower blue sky.  

Someone whistles at them from the shore line, and she raises her hand in acknowledgement towards the skipper of their boat, sitting up and beginning to gather her belongings, shoving them back into the canvas beach bag she carried with her.

She dusts the sane off her as she and Enzo make their way over to the boat, ankle deep in the cool water before they’re being handed up onto the deck.

When she gets back to their room, she’s surprised to see an envelope addressed to her. She hadn’t given anyone an address while she’d been travelling, and so she approaches the envelope with a healthy dose of caution.

Picking it up between two fingers, she gingerly breaks the wax seal on the back, pulling out the parchment within and unfolding it quickly.

Caroline,

My brother is celebrating his birthday this year. Although I’m not particularly eager to see you anytime soon, I know that Nik would like it. Details are within.

Rebekah

She can’t help but cover her mouth, snorting with laughter as she hands the folded up piece of paper to Enzo to read.

“Rather direct, isn’t she?”

“Yes, that always has been her m.o.” She replies with another soft laugh, eyes scanning the contents of the invitation before tossing it onto the bed.

“So are you going to go?” Enzo questions curiously, leaning over to read the invitation as well.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” She answers it like a question, becuase to be honest she’s still not half sure herself.

Enzo raises an eyebrow at that.

“Maybe? That’s a complete 180 from last year when it was a flat out no. Could it be that your feelings towards the big bad hybrid have changed?”

She hits Enzo on the arm good naturedly.

“It’s not like that. It’ll just be… good to see him.” She trails off lamely, knowing that it’s a pathetic excuse if ever she’s heard one.

To be honest, she’d been thinking about Klaus a lot more lately. She hadn’t seen him in almost a decade, the last time being quite a memorable weekend they’d spent together in Tuscany, when they hadn’t done much more than have sex and drink wine from teh surrounding vineyards.

Most of the weekend had been spent in bed, Klaus determined to show her just how good they were with each other, which they were. Klaus continued to be the best sex of her lfie, and if the infuriating smile that he wore on his face every time he brought her to climax was anything to go by, he knew it as well.

But they both had other priorities. She was content to continue her nomadic lifestyle, discovering some of the far flung and forgotten corners of the world, Enzo in tow more often than not.

Klaus had settled into his life in New Orleans, ruling the city with an iron fist, his siblings still with him.

She’d never been. Setting foot into his city would be sending a message, that she was willing to entertain the idea of a forever with him. And she hadn’t been ready for that yet. But now…

“I can see that your mind has already been made up.” Enzo replies with a slow smile. “Are you sure?”

She just takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

“I’m going to need a dress.”


The party below them is in full swing, members of the supernatural community mingling in the courtyard below them.

Kol leans on the balcony beside her, hair swept artfully away from his forehead, tuxedo clinging to the firm lines of his body. He sips at his drink, glancing at her for a moment.

“Did you even try to get him something this year?” He asks with a chuckle. “You’ve been surprisingly tight lipped this year sister.”

She smooths down the front of her black party dress, raising her own glass to her lips as she takes a drink.

“I tried something different this year. Apparently it didn’t work out.” She notes with a shrug, downing the rest of her drink and setting the now empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter.

Kol stares at her for a long moment, trying to figure out the meaning behind her words.

“Shame.” He pronounces with a shrug. “You’re usually much better at this. Did you order something online and it didnt’ arrive on time or something?”

She just smiles to herself, phone buzzing in her hand.

“Something like that.”

And then she thumbs into the message, reading the two words displayed across her screen.

She’s here.

The doorman of course, had been under strict instructions to keep an eye out for Caroline. He’d been provided with a picture of the baby vampire, one from her Mystic Falls days where she’d been polished and primped and wearing a ballgown.

All the same, Caroline Forbes was rather hard to miss, even dressed in plain clothes with her hair in disarray. She would know because she’d seen the girl in such a state during one memorable run in at the MIkaelson mansion in Mystic Falls.

It hadn’t taken a genius to know exactly why Caroline was doing the walk of shame at such an infernal hour of the morning. The younger girl had blushed, hair falling into her face as she had whispered a soft goodbye before letting herself out into the weak early morning light.

She had mentioned this as an aside to Kol, who had promptly teased Nik about it. Nik had snapped his neck and they hadn’t mentioned it since.

“Am I boring you?” Kol’s voice abruptly interrupts her train of thought, and she locks her phone, eyes flicking up towards her brother, who’s staring at her like she’s just grown a second head. “Where did you go just now?”

She just draws herself up to her full height, snagging another flute of champagne.

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch brother.”


The doorman is staring at her strangely. She can’t imagine why, because she most certainly does not have lipstick on her teeth (she checked). The navy blue party dress that she’s wearing makes her tanned legs look a mile long, and accentuates the curves of her body.

Her hair, which she had spent a ridiculous amount of time on, was twisted into an elegant up do, and she was wearing a necklace that Klaus had gifted to her during their time in Tuscany.

The short of it was, she looked a million bucks.

“Caroline Forbes.” A voice drawls as she steps into the entrance of the courtyard.

Rebekah Mikaelson hasn’t changed a bit, that bored expression on her face ever present. She’s wearing a killer pair of Manolos and she can’t help but eye off the striking shoes with a bit of jealousy.

“Rebekah.” She finally answers, swallowing around the lump in her throat as Rebekah just smiles, pressing a drink into her hand.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Rebekah sips at her own drink as she turns, moving more towards the crowd of people, a few of whom eye them off with barely concealed curiosity. “You know, since I didn’t receive your RSVP or anything like that.”

“Sorry.” She replies to the older vampire, smoothing a hand over her hair. “I was undecided until quite recently. I did send word but apparently you didn’t get the message in time.”

“No matter.” Rebekah waves a hand dismissively. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

Rebekah tilts her gaze upwards towards the balcony, and she follows the line of the Original’s gaze. Kol Mikaelson has a drink in her hand, and is gaping at her with his mouth hanging open rather unattractively.

Within split seconds his gaze lands on Rebekah, eyes narrowing as he raises his drink towards his sister in a toast for some reason.

“What was that about?” She asks Rebekah, who lifts one shoulder in an elegant shrug as the crowd clears momentarily and she spots Klaus from across the room.

He looks entirely at ease in this particular setting, his tuxedo clinging sharply to the lines of his broad shoulders, pants tailored to within an inch of their life. He’s got his head thrown back in laughter as he talks to another man, drink in hand and looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“What on earth has he done to his hair?” She hisses towards Rebekah in horror. “It looks atrocious.”

She sees Klaus stiffen at that, and curses his superior Hybrid hearing as his gaze suddenly lands on her, eyes dark.

It’s perhaps the first time that she’s seen him truly caught off guard, and she can’t help but raise her glass to her lips, not realising just how much liquid courage she’d need to fortify herself with for this particular encounter.

The crowd seems to part before Klaus as he moves towards her, Rebekah giving her a gentle nudge, encouraging her to meet him halfway.

If that wasn’t a metaphor for their relationship, she didn’t know what was.

Klaus stops before her, gaze indecipherable as he reaches out, traces a gentle hand along her cheekbone.

The weight of the curious gazes around her is heavy, and she can’t help but lean into his touch as he bends, taking her hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

He straightens, and his smile is like the sun.

“Hello Caroline.”


It feels strange, being on Klaus’ arm. For a moment, she can’t help but think that Klaus is showing her off, demonstrating his power.

Until he begins introducing her to people, a hand resting dangerously on her lower back, thumb rubbing circles into where her dress does not cover up the skin of her back.

He seems content to take a backseat in their conversation, instead observing silently as she exchanges greetings with various witches and werewolves and vampires.

She sips at her drink as someone else comes to greet Klaus, and it takes a moment for her to realise why this time is so different. Klaus isn’t treating her like an object. He never has, a byproduct of his thousand or so years of existence.

No. Klaus is treating her like an equal, and the thought of that sends a thrill down her spine. So when there’s a break in the conversation she twines an arm around his waist, pressing a quick kiss to his neck.

In response Klaus pulls her closer to him but doesn’t comment, carrying on his conversation effortlessly.

Hours later as the guests begin to filter out into the street, Klaus pulls her in close to her chest.

“What are you doing here Caroline?” He asks in a low voice, tone dangerous. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course I am.”

She meets his gaze confidently, hand drifting up his chest to fix the lapel of his dinner jacket.

“I’m here for you Klaus.” She tells him with a smile. “You remember that weekend in Tuscany, when you let me go without a word of protest?”

Klaus’ lips curl into a smirk.

“How could I forget Tuscany?”

“You didn’t push me. And I was grateful for that, even though I did know that you wouldn’t wait around forever for me. And when you kept your distance in the following years, I was grateful. But I also missed not having you around.”

Her eyes drop to the crisp lines of his shirt as her hands drift down towards his waist. His breath is hot against her cheek, and he’s gone unnaturally still as he waits to hear the next words out of her mouth.

“You offered me forever and I wasn’t ready then. But I am now.” She says softly, hands sliding up his chest, twining around his neck as his gaze darkens, mouth hanging open in surprise. “If you’ll still have me of course.

Klaus’ lips against hers is the only answer he provides, the only answer she needs. Klaus kisses her like he’s a starving man, like he’s been deprived of something for so long.

She’s scarcely less eager to return his embrace, missing the feeling of him, the familiar smell of him.

She doesn’t protest when Klaus picks her up in his arms, using his vamp speed to get the from the courtyard to what is undoubtedly his bedroom.

He’s got her pressed up against the closed door before she can even think about it, lips hot against the skin of her neck as he nips at her with a content sigh.

His jacket drops to the floor, and she helps him unbutton his shirt, no doubt in her mind as to the direction that this is heading.

Her hands roam over the skin of his chest, catalouging all the new scars that he’s acquired since she saw him last, hand pausing over a particularly nasty looking scar, no doubt caused by some sort of stabbing.

“You’ll have to tell me that story later.” She murmurs, tipping a finger under his chin and kissing him gently.

“Later.” Klaus agrees in a low voice, hands pausing at the seams of her dress.

She’s reversed their positions in an instant, Klaus pressed up against the door with a surprised look on his face.

“Don’t you dare rip this dress.” She hisses at him, knowing his proclivity for destroying her clothes when he’s in this sort of mood. “I like this one.”

His low chuckle curls around her, a warm feeling in the bottom of her stomach as he turns her gently by the shoulders, a hot open mouthed kiss pressed to the side of her neck.

His hands on the zipper are like fire as he pulls it down slowly, fingers brushing over the exposed skin of her back as he pushes the dress from her shoulders.

It pools at her feet, and she hears his breath hitch in his throat as he runs a gentle hand down her back.

“I’ve missed this.” Klaus murmurs to her, walking her backwards towards his bed, both of them kicking off their shoes, Klaus shucking his socks as they go.

He grips her by the hips, easily lifting her up and tossing her onto the mattress, a giggle escaping her lips as Klaus’s gaze darkens.

“Come here.” She beckons to him as Klaus crawls between her knees, covering her body with his as he takes her into his arms.

The feeling is unfamiliar and familiar all at once, Klaus’ erection pressing into her core as she tangles her lips with his.

A soft moan escapes her as Klaus’ lips scorch a hot trail down her throat, face nuzzling between the valley of her breasts, stubble scratching against her sensitive skin.

“Pants off.” She orders after a momentary pause, Klaus chuckling as he does her bidding.

“A little eager aren’t we?” He asks her with an infuriating smile as he hooks long fingers into the waistband of her panties.

“We’ve got ten years to make up for.” She just breathes, watching as his face softens, hand coming up to cup her cheek delicately as he lines up his body with hers, cock nudging gently at her entrance.

She can’t help but gasp at the feeling, heel nudging at his arse as he smiles down at her.

“We’ve got all the time in the world sweetheart.” He replies before pushing into her heat with one, smooth stroke.

She’s missed this, the feeling of being filled by him, and her eyes roll back into her head at just how good it is, at how good he is.

Klaus had learnt to read her body with an almost eerie sixth sense, and he puts all of his learned knowledge into practice as he sets a rhythm that has her unable to do much more than gasp and hold on for the ride.

Klaus rolls suddenly, reversing their positions as she sways above him, a little startled. Klaus just smiles, still hard inside her as he guides her arms around his broad shoulders, hands hot around her waist as he helps to lift her, guide her up and down.

She’s always loved this position with him, loved the power and the look of awe that always creeped across his face when he saw her like this.

She bends down to kiss him, rolling her hips in a gentle rhythm against his. Klaus’ hand traces down the front of her body, thumb pinpointing her clit with an unerring accuracy.

She shudders a little when he presses there, rhythm broken momentarily as she opens her mouth in a silent moan.

She can feel the tell tale build in her core, the ache becoming almost unbearable as she increases her rhythm, anchoring her hands on his shoulders as he begins to thrust up into her with a look of concentration on his face.

She falls apart in his arms, Klaus catching her, turning and pressing her down into the mattress as he continues to drive into her, the pleasure edging into pain at the sensitivity.

Klaus knows this though, gentles the movement of his hips until it curls low in her belly once more, building impossibly fast to her peak.

They come together this time, her name on his lips as he buries his face into her neck, feels the heat of him inside her.

She runs a hand through his sweat dampened hair, breathing slowly returning to normal as he pulls out and heads for the bathroom, returning in the next few moments with a damp cloth to wipe themselves down with.

When he’s done he pulls her into the circle of his arms, a content exhale as he props one arm under his head, staring up at the ceiling.

They don’t have to say much. They never do in moments like this. But she feels like she has to say this.

“I love you.” She whispers into the skin of his chest, Klaus stiffening momentarily around her before he’s pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, eyes brimming with emotion.

He doesn’t say it back but that’s okay. She knows that he’s felt this way about her for a long time, and she’s not going to get hung up on her insecurities like she used to when it came to him.

The moment is perfect, and she wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I hope you’ve got space in your wardrobe for all my clothes.” She voices out loud suddenly, propping herself up on her elbow to face him.

Klaus’ burst of startled laughter is like music to her hears.


On the lower levels of the house, Rebekah Mikaelson pours herself a victory drink, Kol glowering on the lounge opposite her as the fire crackles merrily away in the hearth.

“Do you concede?” She asks of Kol, who just glares at her, cracking his knuckles a little threateningly.

“I concede.”

Traditional Weddings and Little Toy Rings

Traditional Weddings and Little Toy Rings

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4,683

Author: Ruby 2.0 [daddyslittleraven]

Quote: “I’m actually kind of drunk. Me likey.”

A/N: This fic is for Lau’s AU Funny Quote Challenge. The challenge was to incorporate a quote that we chose into a AU fic and submit it. If you like this, there will be more in the future. :) Also fair warning, I am absolute shit at writing smut, but here it is.

AU: There’s actually a bunch of au’s that I’m mashing together, so I’ll just throw all of the main ones into one big sentence: “Our apartments are across from each other so we always see each other in the morning, and I always see you with your partner and then I saw you really sad because they stood you up at dinner and I haven’t seen them for weeks and I just wanna see your smile again so please let me come over.”  

Warnings: Huge drabble? Swearing, drinking, smut more than likely, cheating boyfriend (not Dean-o), angsty-undertones.

@dancingalone21

Keep reading

like the sun came out

theatre au collab with @jiilys. here’s her part.

a/n: birthday present for @buffysummere​. my dearest lucie. happy, happy birthday dear. i love you more than anything else in the world. including james potter and popcorn.


Ginger Newt Press                                                                     8th February 2009

                                               A Catcher in the Eye
                                                   
By Lily J. Evans

Film: The Wind in the Whomping Willows.
Director: Bathilda Bagshot.
Genre: Classics, fantasy.

The Wind in the Whomping Willows is an epic fantasy tale from renowned director Bathilda Bagshot, of which I was very lucky to attend a screening of last Friday. The story entails the lives of several close, esteemed friends who attend a picnic together in a copse of magically enchanted willow trees. Chaos and revelation ensues.

I was pleasantly surprised by this viewing. The cinematography and filming techniques used were simple yet effective, an homage to Bathilda’s earlier work and the style that has brought her so much praise, and I thoroughly enjoyed watching the plot play out on screen.

However, I found myself riddled with the misfortune of being in an extremely busy cinema, and my viewing was continually disrupted by a rather noisy patron who made a habit of throwing popcorn at the screen despite my polite requests to remain silent during the film.

This did not occur and I found myself frequently distracted—from the naturalistic and impressive acting of Elphias Doge, the unostentatious and utterly convincing efforts of the costume crew, and the enchanting and well-designed sets­­—by the ever-present throwing of popcorn, lewd chewing and ungainly remarks.

It was part-way through this unassuming, whimsical and gripping plotline, dear readers, that I sustained an injury at the hand of the extremely disruptive patron, one that resulted in hours of eye-appointments and optometry scans, but you will be glad to know that whilst my vision has not been effected, my pride has, however, been wounded.

Overall I give this delightful film a total of four and a half stars (★★★★½), even though I did not see the second half of the film and therefore missed out the rest of the companions’ sublime antics. I thoroughly enjoyed this exhibit from Ms. Bagshot, but let it be known that I will be filing my eye bill to the rude and inconsiderate customer who dealt the fatal blow to my left eyeball.


Ginger Newt Press                                                                         3rd March 2009

                                                The Tipping Point
                                                             
or
                                              Who Sank the Boat?
                                                 
By Lily J. Evans

Film: 101 Fantastic Beasts.
Director: Newt Scamander.
Genre: Animals, adventure.

101 Fantastic Beasts is a truly enthralling tale to have hit our screens, directed by none other than the beloved and dedicated Mr. Newton Scamander, whose work, despite sceptical reviews, we have all grown up with and come to cherish. This feature focuses on the mischievous antics of several different and enchanting creatures that are almost too whimsical and fantastical to be true, yet Mr. Scamander brings them to life with poise and effortless direction.

I was extremely excited to be seated for this viewing; Mr. Scamander’s work holds a special place in my heart and I couldn’t wait to bear witness to his next edition. However, it was somewhat interrupted by the same noisy patron who I encountered during the last screening I went to. After voicing my displeasure to this same customer (who, for privacy reasons, we shall only refer to as Jim the Wanker), and copping an earful of his profane and explicit nagging (don’t fret, dear readers; Jim responded to my complaints about my eye injury with equal and yet unnecessary fervour, and I put him in his place by tipping his container of popcorn), the screen was flooded with the technicolour and awe-inspiring animations from Mr. Scamander.

The cinematography was visually stunning and flowed beautifully, and welcomed the voices of actors such as Miranda Goshawk, Inigo Imago and Wilhelm Wigworthy. The story and its design were rife with subtle humour and lively characters, which, coupled with the stunning graphics, made for a very pleasant viewing experience. However, at the end of the film (where, giving nothing away, there was a tear-jerking moment), I could’ve sworn I bore witness to Jim the Wanker sobbing like a child in the row in front of me, which I’m sure had nothing to do with the on-screen death of a fluffy animal and everything to do with him being bitter over having his popcorn spilt and his (extremely large) ego wounded.

Overall I would give this wondrous tale a total of five stars (★★★★★), which, to be sure, dear readers, we don’t encounter often, and, if anything, the viewing experience was only made better the blubbing hysterics boasted by Jim the Wanker who was sitting in the front row. And for the questions as to who started the argument in the first place, I could not tell you who the sank the boat, ladies and gentlemen, but I can tell you that I was the one who tipped it.


Letter to the Editor
5th March 2009
Annie Barrow
23 Writchley St.
London
SW13

Subject: Thoughts on Miss Evans and the March Issue

Dear Ginger Newt Press,
I am writing to you because I have recently been loving Miss Evans’s film review column. I think has very witty and endearing insight on the film industry and I’d love to see more of her work. Also, I think her relationship with James Potter is so cute—how long have they been dating?


Response
11th April 2009
Minerva McGonagall, Editor.

Dear Annie,
Thank you for writing to Ginger Newt Press regarding our March Issue. I sincerely agree with your comments on Miss Evans’ skill with a pen—she has a considerable amount of talent as a writer and as a reviewer, hence why I hired her. I have taken your feedback into account and was already planning to have her pick up more duties at Ginger Newt Press in the New Year. As for your observations on her relationship with Mr. Potter, I showed your contribution to Miss Evans, as I thought it best (and she insisted) that I put in her own response to your remarks.


10th March 2009
Lily Evans, Film Review Columnist.

Dear Annie,
Thank you so much for your compliments! I truly enjoy writing and it is a pleasure being able to do what I love in my position at Ginger Newt Press. I would love to pick up more work in the future.
But I must correct you on one point, as it seems to have been gaining a lot of attention recently—James Potter and I are not dating. In fact, I don’t seem to recall ever even meeting a Mr. Potter in my life. The name only begs familiarity to some incredibly horrific botanic disease, which one would be truly unfortunate to contract.


Ginger Newt Press                                                                          11th April 2009

                                            Panic! At The Theatre
                                                 
By Lily J. Evans

Film: The Cupboard Under the Stairs.
Director: Gilderoy Lockhart.
Genre: Horror, thriller.

The Cupboard Under the Stairs is a classic retelling of the classic horror flick by Beedle the Bard, reimagined in all its glorious terror by Gilderoy Lockhart. Mr. Lockhart—who still maintains his amateurish approach to directing, despite his many years in the industry—also took it upon himself to star in his own retelling, which is a difficult line to toe, especially when it is done so in such a way that lacks talent.

I did not have high hopes for this viewing, and was therefore not disappointed; though the cinematography was strong, the dialogue was poor, and the characters were unrealistic. In fact, the drab quality had taken its impression upon me so much within the first few minutes that I did not even notice (I will not go so far as to say that I did not mind, because I did) when Jim the Wanker sat down beside me, thankfully not munching on any popcorn, because if he was I would not have hesitated to throw it back in his face for the second time.

It seems the one thing Jim the Wanker and I were able to agree upon was how boring the film was; so boring, in fact, that he took to the childish antics of using me as his personal pinching bag fifteen minutes into the movie. In my retaliation, I am glad to say that I won the pinching war, and consider it a personal victory, however Jim the Wanker and I were thrown out by the unaccommodating (and apparently having no sense of cinematic calibre) ushers, and found ourselves on the scratchy floor of the lobby, making up the rest of the plot by ourselves (which I’m sure would’ve been a great improvement upon the original story, considering that it has very little to contest with).

And for all the highly anxious and somewhat relentless readers who want to know more about the not-at-all delightful Mr. Potter, I spent the rest of the evening finding out that we actually have more in common than I originally anticipated. He, for instance, is a pretentious asshole who likes the Great Gatsby (I have not read it, which he gave me considerable—and, in my opinion, unwarranted—shit for); Quentin Taratino is his favourite director (avid readers will know that my favourite is Wes Anderson, which he wrongly scoffed at, undoubtedly because he has terrible taste in cinema, I don’t understand how he ever became a film reviewer); He is also an avid fan of Star Wars (as everyone should be).

Aside from the considerable amount of time I spent in Mr. Potter’s company, I still give this film a grand total of zero stars, which, I can tell you without a doubt, would have been my rating even if I had seen it.


4th May 2009

Hello, Lily, dear,
I did get your last letter—thankfully it came on time!

The weather here has been dismal; raining non-stop for the past few days! Your father enjoys it well enough, but it’s been a struggle to get all the wood undercover—he’s not as able as he once was, but the medicine the doctor’s been giving him for his back seems to be working well—no more endless complaints of back pain!

I know that things have been difficult with Tuney after the last fight, but do try to patch things up with her—I know she can be hard to deal with, but she means well. I really do hope you’ll come to the wedding—she has invited you, after all.

Anyway, I’m so, so glad to hear you’re doing well. I’ve been absolutely loving reading your columns—they keep getting better and better! It’s such a great position for you to have and your father and I are so proud of you. Hopefully they make you editor some day!

But as for this business with the Potter chap, you really ought to make a move. I saw the pictures from the premiere and the way he was looking at you—my goodness! That kind of admiration is not something you see every day.

I know you’re going to be as stubborn as ever on this subject, but just give it a shot! You have no idea of the amount of happiness you could get out of something like this.

And for goodness sake, you talk about him often enough, it’s a wonder you aren’t already dating!

Endless amounts of love,

Mum (and Dad) xxxxx


15th May 2009

Hi Mum, good to hear from you,

Hopefully it’s stopped raining by now! Did Dad ever think of asking the boy down the road to help him out? He could use the extra hands. Also, I’m glad he’s feeling better. Nothing like endless days at your desk to give you an appreciation for back pain. I’ve been trying to get out more to stretch it out, but with all the attention my column is getting I’ve been strapped to my pad and pencil.

Mum, you know how I feel about Petunia—I don’t expect you to cut off all ties with her, but I can’t keep making excuses. And I haven’t decided if I’m coming to the wedding yet.

Thank you, Mum. I’ve been really enjoying myself! The reviews are great and McGonagall seems really happy with my work. Editor doesn’t seem too far off, but I don’t see McGonagall retiring any time soon. Assistant editor, maybe. I’d love to pick up more responsibilities.

I don’t want to talk about the Potter boy. He probably had something in his eye that day. Or maybe he was hyped up on cold medicine. He did sound a bit like he had a cold. Don’t push me on this, Mum.

And yes, I’m stubborn, but that’s because I’m right! He’s an ass.

And the only reason I talk about him is because he annoys me. Endlessly. Like a fly that just won’t go away. Or chronic back pain.

I love you (and give my love to Dad),

Write soon!

Lily xxx


                                                           (Part 1)

You have never ached as badly as you do now, sitting in front of your desk while the light is dying, trapped inside the opaque glass panels of the windows. Everything is plumish and purple, like a red wine stain across the sky. You have not been able to think of anything else since that night. When you close your eyes all you can see is him, looking at you, looking into you. The numbness is a like a crypt lodged in your sternum. Even when you are running down the stairs, your coat on your arm and your conscience on your other, and hailing a taxi, nothing shocks you quite like the first glimpse of rain in the sky. A rivulet hits your cheek and runs down, as though you have been crying. You lean against the window the whole way home, tracing patterns in the droplets, watching them chase each other down the windscreen. You pay your fare, slip on your coat, walk inside. You don’t want to watch a film. You don’t want to watch a film because no matter how much you love it, it will never be as good as if he was sitting here next to you, flicking popcorn at you and talking about Quentin Taratino and looking at you, looking at you with those eyes of his, like you are something out of a dream but better, because he is awake and breathing and witnessing you in all your glory, like you are a piece of artwork hanging in the London Art Gallery, like you are a monument in Trafalgar Square, bronzed and standing on a plinth, like you are you. So you pour yourself a glass of wine and hope that it’ll stain your dress because you want to see the colour seeping into the fabric, something concrete, proof that you exist, curl up on the couch and try to reconcile the fact that you’ve been waiting to see him every day for the past week. You barely even notice when the rain starts chucking down outside your window, crying like you can’t. He knocks at the door. You are at the threshold, looking at him as the rain buckets down beside him. He is soaked. He is standing in front of you and asking you out and you do not know how to say no. You want to be beside him in that theatre, throwing popcorn at him, but you can’t stop thinking about how the salt and butter would taste if you licked it off his fingers. He is standing in front of you in the rain and telling you, ‘7 o’clock, Saturday. I’ll pick you up,’ and it isn’t a question. You don’t want it to be a question.

                                                          (Part 2)

He picks you up at 7:15. You are wearing a dress made of red velvet and the leather jacket you stole from Sirius. ‘Where are we going?’ you ask him, and just smiles at you, and your stomach falls out of your ass, and he says, ‘It’s a surprise.’ You knock him with your hip and tell him, ‘Sure thing, Jim,’ and when he winks at you it’s like something grating against your skin, so abrasive and cutting you can barely breathe, because you want to feel those feather-light lashes tickling your cheek, like a gust of air circling your skin. You need him more than you need to breathe. He takes your hand and leads you out to the car, the sensation of his skin against yours all at once too much and not enough. You watch the streetlights roll past the car, dimmed and unfocused lamps, each of them softened by the rain. You think you know where you are a moment before you get there, a glimmer of recognition etched onto the back of your brain like a memory, and you don’t even realise he’s watching your face as you walk into the lobby, like you are better than all these lights and richly upholstered carpets and antique ticket booths. You are holding your breath, like the tremor of your exhalation will rupture the vision and cause it to disappear. He is still holding your hand. You are in the lobby of one the original and restored cinemas in London and it’s like walking into dream. He buys your tickets and you are just stranded in the lobby in a tide of red and white, wondering if you are quiet enough if the dream you are living in will engulf you, because you want it to, and his hand gently closing around yours brings you back to reality, a better reality, a better dream, where he is smiling at you and waving the tickets in your face and dragging you up the stairs and into the theatre. You are walking beside him in the dark and feeling the calluses on his hands and quietly thinking that you could fade away into the darkness, into the night, with him next to you.

                                                          (Part 3) 

The theatre is immense, a mausoleum, and there is only one of them. You feel like you are being presented, like you are in a palace, with intricately carved and immaculate ceilings and endless lengths of red curtain and rows upon rows red leather seats. ‘I thought you might like it,’ he whispers in your ear, the fabric of his suitcoat brushing against your side. ‘I do,’ you tell him, because that is all you can say right now. I do, I do, I do. You endlessly do. ‘Thank you,’ you whisper as you take your seats. His thumb is drawing circles on your palm. ‘You’re welcome,’ he tells you. There could very well be stars on the ceiling, in his eyes, on your skin. And when what little light there is goes down and the screen goes up and it is flooded with light, and it hits you, like a moonbeam, they are playing your favourite movie, Casablanca is roaring out across the screen, you can barely breathe, you are looking at him. You didn’t even tell him your favourite film and he is grinning madly back at you. You want to kiss him. You could kiss him, he is sitting next to you in the dark and smiling and wearing suit pants and white shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows and aftershave that makes your toes curl. ‘James,’ you whispers to him, and he leans forward, and you say, ‘where’s the popcorn?’, and he tells you that he didn’t get any because his eyes are damaged enough already and he didn’t want to take the risk with you considering how you first met, and you are laughing so hard you can barely breathe and thank God there is no-one else in the cinema because you lean forward and kiss him, kiss him like you’ve wanted to do for the past six months or more or possibly even before you met him, because he is lovely and wonderful and moonshine incarnate, here beneath this palace of stars, his skin tracing yours, gravitational. You give him five stars. You’d give him all the stars in the world, had he not given them to you.

10

- Disintegration, 2nd May 1989 -

And here we are. The masterpiece, The Cure’s opera magna, Disintegration. It’s quite a weird name for an album, if you think about it. I consider it a jump to another level, leaving behind Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me like a few years before they had left behind Pornography. Robert actually said that they did KMKMKM to reach a level that would have allowed them “to be listened to”, even with an album like DIsintegration. Because, let’s say it, this is not an easy listening; out of 12 songs, maybe two could make it to a radio station. But its beauty is that once you fully understand it, once it gets inside your heart, you’ll never be the same person again.
All the themes are very intimate; Robert proposed his ideas to the others already determined to make the album, with or without them… he really wanted to pour everything out, and this need shows a lot, seen how honest and passionate are the songs. He was going through a deep crysis, and it showed also later, during the Prayer Tour (listen to Faith from those concerts, the extra lyrics and his general attitude will leave you without words.).
A thing I absolutely love in all the songs is Robert’s  voice, because it shows how intensely he felt every word. In some songs it sounds so fragile, in others it explodes in frustration… in the previous albums he often played with it, but here it’s just the listener and the lyrics, with no tricks. Every song speaks to my soul in a language I never thought I could understand, and that makes me feel safe, in some ways. He just sounds so honest about what he’s singing about that the lyrics become even more transparent and true, almost in a scary way, Yep, it scares me to feel so naked, face to face with my inner self, but I think it’s also a positive thing, especially when you’re confused about what you feel.

The chords are surrounded by majestic synths, every note seems to resonate in space, cristalline and pure. The most evident example of this feeling is Plainsong, the opening track. The windchimes before the song are pure genius, they give me goosebumps every time, filling the listener with anticipation. Despite the very few lyrics, this song is poetry… Simon’s bass is almost singing here. It’s this song that builds in me the idea of an impetuous wind blowing through all the album, not only for the lyrics (“and the wind is blowing like it’s the end of the world, you said”), but for the general atmosphere of the song. In some ways the whole album is like a thunderstorm, that builds up with songs like Prayers For Rain, Fascination Street, and the astonishing title track, and fades away with Homesick and Untitled. It’s the final thunderstorm, another feature that contributes to make Disintegration an emotional masterpiece. 
I could write about this album for hours, I’m not joking. The famous South Park line “Disintegration is the best album ever!” couldn’t be more true, and still, there’s so much more than that. The only reason why it could’ve been defined as a “commercial suicide” is because it was being released after Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me, a totally different album. But this doesn’t mean Disintegration doesn’t have its big hits. Lovesong, that despite being the perfect lovesong fits perfecty in the general atmosphere of the album, and Pictures Of You, that as you might have noticed at this point, is (and will be) my favourite song EVER. For me it’s the enbodiment of three feelings at once: freedom, sadness, and happiness. (And also snow, a lot of snow!). 
Ok, this is getting way too long, I knew it… we’re all aware of huge singles like Lullaby and Lovesong. But I would love to just talk about the title track, Disintegration, it’s so powerful it really hurts. Robert pours everything out in this song, it’s like the ultimate rant before the disintegration of everything. All the album leaves you like everything disintegrated while listening to it… Untitled it’s a perfect frame for the sense of uncompleteness that fills you at the end of the story. Argh, this is getting so frustrating, I could fill PAGES about every single song on this album and I know I can’t…
Anyway. I must put this clear: this is definitely  NOT an easy listening. The first time I heard The Same Deep Water As You I stopped listening after the third minute, I found it almost boring. After the fourth listening, that song taught me what a good 9-minutes-song is. First listen to Lullaby, Lovesong, Pictures Of You, and I can assure you that when you’re ready to listen to it from start to finish you’ll know it deep down in your bones. At least, for me it’s been like that… I was completely lost and confused, and this album made me understand.

(If you want to open a discussion over it, feel free to send an ask ;))

Sometimes Rain Falls

A BTS Fanfiction

Type: AU/Alternative Universe

Summary: Sometimes a normal life is a good one to lead; its nice…its easy…
But sometimes, normal isn’t the way that things were meant to be. And when you’re chosen as a possible candidate for one of the kingdom’s 7 princes, life isn’t as nice and easy as you always presumed it to be…especially when you catch the eye of more than one of them…

A/N: I will update the masterlist later, when i get back from work! :)

Trailer

Masterlist

Part 6

It was the same dank, dark corridor as before, only this time instead of feeling a hand holding yours tightly and reassuringly, you were alone, panting as you hurry down the corridor to the door at the end, the only thought in your mind being that you needed to know what was behind it.

‘Princess!’

You knew that voice.

The way the word echoes around the tunnel has you pausing to look behind you, the sight of Hoseok emerging from the darkness, an expression of barely concealed panic on his face, causing your footsteps to falter, stopping you in your determination to get to the door.

‘Hobi….what are you doing here?’

You don’t recognise your own voice when the question is asked, simply staring at the face of your Prince as you frantically try to work out why he was down there, the tiny fragments of thought that had brought you there in the first place hardly creating a solid map of understanding in your head as it was.

‘Princess, don’t-‘

‘Y/N!’

You jump when you feel a hand suddenly grab your own, snapping your head to see who it was, but seeing the world turn to slow motion as the brick wall begins to slowly pass before your eyes, the sandstone turning grey…
…the grey brick turning to charcoal…
…and the charcoal turning to-

‘Taehyung?’

Keep reading

My Review of Mass Effect Andromeda

Just because I know I’m going to be asked about it (and let’s be real: because I want to broadcast my opinions into the void) I wrote down my thoughts on Mass Effect Andromeda. This review is spoiler-free but I put it under a read more for length. I’m warning you: it’s long. I had a lot of thoughts.

Quick Version: 6.5/10. Strongest elements were characters, combat and on-planet exploration. Weakest were story, worldbuilding and visuals.

Keep reading

S/C fic - Possession

I’m grumpy. My stupid Office, isn’t working and has been “fixing” the problems for 4 hours. This Shouldn’t take long, thanks for your patience.  My ass. I want my Word. I can’t even open my old stories. This computer has been nothing but issues for the last 16 months.

But, I digress. While I just saw the most beautiful photo of Heughan, posted from SA, this fic is a tribute to @artistsassenach and her amazing manips she’s been doing, (like crazy, mind you) of late. I know Hannah doesn’t really read fic, but the story is inspired by the Family Heughan. And, some Barbour, as well. There’s still smut.

All my fics can be found, here: http://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSummerBreeze/works

Disclaimer (for my new followers): I’m a shipper. I believe in end-game. I don’t hate on anyone, I don’t even allow them in my atmosphere, let alone my lane. If you feel otherwise, feel free to un-follow. I show no animosity. My blog is for happiness, not bitchy, high-school antics. I’m a firm believer that if you have nothing nice to say, nothing productive to insert into a conversation, you say nothing at all.

Pos-ses-sion (noun)
the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

I thought I had hit my possessive overdrive the first time I heard my last name in conjunction with her first. We had made reservations at some little Bed & Breakfast in Skye, nearly two years ago, and the simple introductory, Reservation under Caitriona Heughan had sent me flying. I was only two feet behind her, carrying the luggage, but I may as well have been swinging from the clouds. 


The pride I felt. The heat in my chest, as I absorbed the name - Caitriona Heughan. I never thought anything could overcome that. But that wasn’t the case. It happened, over and over. over the next eight months.

I had been gone for days. Promotional tours, while she worked. I had arrived back home, sometime in the early morning hours. I should have let her sleep. I could see her exhaustion on her face, as slumber engulfed her. But I couldn’t help myself; we had been separated for nearly a week, and my body called to hers. I sensed the same, as she rolled onto her side, the sheet dropping from her breast to expose her nakedness. I smiled, the dimness of the room not hindering my expression as she extended her arm, taking hold of my hand and pulling me in beside her.

We had skimmed over foreplay, needing our body’s submission far greater. We needed to feel each other wrapped around our skin. Tenderness would wait until passion had its fill.

I pushed into her quickly, as her hands dug into my back. I wouldn’t last long. Neither would she. I felt the tenseness in my abdomen, and closed one hand around her throat. Not tightly, just enough. She smiled the smile of a the devil, as he lured you in, all the while allowing you to think it was your idea.

One hand fell to my ass, pushing me deeper inside her, as her other one scratched the back of my neck, pulling me into her.

Me came in a thunderous explosion of colour and light and screams and cries.
It was hours later, as passion had given up command of our bodies, the tenderness could finally pass through the doors. I kissed her gently, but thoroughly. Our tongues expressing our love. When we parted, there was a bit of sorrow, like I wasn’t ready to move on. But she smiled, the glorious smile of an angel, handing you over to God, and I found myself traversing down her body. Like the dark giving way to the light of the morning, so did our bodies, as I kissed her softly, tasting the sweat and saltiness of her skin. It did not bother me, that I would soon be tasting our joint passion, between her legs. I took some strange and sick erotic pleasure in that cocktail.

Spreading her thighs, the stickiness of our union painting abstracts across her alabaster skin. I would feed off her, and while I would never choose a Balfe-Heughan smoothie as a beverage at a restaurant, there’s something quite different when your between her thighs, and she’s moaning above you, urging you on, and you dart your tongue out, for that first taste, that sets my caveman urges afire.

But as I ended the trail around her breasts and dipped further down her torso, a darkness crossed under my eyes, and I pulled back to get a better view. And as I perched upon my elbows, staring down at the naked form below me, a stick figure, drawn complete with a smiley face and a waving hand, looked back at me.

I brushed her stomach, as if some imaginary cartoon had suddenly clouded my vision, but alas, it remained. Its grin not sinister, but shy.

I looked up to her face, then. A soft smile and a single tear falling into the abyss of dark waves, settled upon her features. I felt her stroke my hair, her thumb lazily drawing back and forth across my tumble, allowing realization to flourish inside my brain.

I looked at her stomach once more, and there was that feeling again. That pride and possessiveness that should send me straight to hell. I felt an overwhelming sense of happiness as I let the stick-figure into my heart. I kissed her belly, then. And I cannot remember anything after, other than Caitriona pulling me up to her, turning us over, and her body making love to mine as I lay in a bed of emotions, my mind drunk on happiness and wonder.
When she began to show, when her belly made the world aware of our union, I was proud, taking every chance to claim her body as mine, with a hand to her stomach, and a slight rub of possession. She was mine, and what lay nestled in her belly, was too.

But when the time came, one lazy Saturday morning, as she pleasured herself atop my body until she cringed in pain, falling to my side, it wasn’t possessiveness that I felt. I was no longer filled with pride or joy, but was drowning in fear and worry. My pride turned to fault. I was the reason she was in pain. I was the reason she clenched my hand with each contraction as the anguish wracked its way through her body.

No, the pride did not return for many weeks.

I watched from the door-frame, as Caitriona placed our daughter in the bassinet. She flicked the little music box to lullaby’s, and called me forth with her hand.

I brushed her hair behind her ears, before wrapping my arm around her waist to stare down in the cradle before us.

I kissed her temple. “Are you alright?”

I felt her head fall against my shoulder, as our blonde-haired beauty settled into slumber.

“Yes. She wouldn’t take much tonight.” I watched as her hands rubbed her breasts in an ache I would never understand.

I took Cait’s hand, pulling her away and into our bedroom.

We curled into each other, fighting off sleep so as to not close our eyes off to each other too soon. The night always came too soon.

I let my hand fall to her breast, gently weighing it. She laughed, but didn’t push me away.

“They’ve always been spectacular, but God, they feel amazing.”

She laughed again, more out of a sarcastic amusement. “They don’t feel amazing. And they look even worse. Naked, anyway. Through clothes, they look fantastic.”

I pulled on the hem of her nighty, a breasts falling loose. “They still look pretty good to me.”

One of her hands cradled my head, as the other draped itself across my hand on her breast.

“Did you want to taste?”

It was asked in such a childlike manner, it pulled me from my thoughts. I watched her face, shy and needy.

We had spoken about it. I had said I wanted to taste her. Some weird perversion I only felt comfortable talking about with her. I had put the child inside her, so the milk was mine. It was the most absurd thought, but there it was. But she was sore. That much I knew. She had given birth four weeks ago, and was tired. Her body, a mass of emotional turmoil.

“I don’t have to. Not tonight. You’re exhausted.”

She shook her head, a delicate smile crossing her face, “I want you to. I can’t have you inside me yet, well, beyond my mouth…”

I felt the corner of my mouth rise. “Thank you for that.”

Her shoulders shrugged, “I may be tired. I may be sore. I may not know what the hell my body is doing from one moment to the next. But the only thing I do know, is that when I have you inside me, wherever that may be, I have this,” she looked away, cocking her head to the side in thought, before turning back, “sense of possessiveness, or something. Like I own you. I know, it’s silly.”

I shook my head, knowing. “Not silly at all. I think I may know how you feel.”

She took me to her breast then. I was soft and gentle at first, unsure of whether it was pleasure I would be giving her, or its close counterpart, pain.
But as I suckled, finding a new way of caring for her nipples, Caitriona’s hand fell to my head, holding me to her bosom. It took a moment or two, but the milk began to flow. I let it flow passed my lips, and I drank her sweet nectar, like a bee to a flower. My body, instinctively, draped itself across hers, and she held me tightly. To her body. To her breast.

I could feel my hardness beneath my shorts, and I ground against her thigh shallowly. This wasn’t about me. I wanted her to feel pleasure. But I’m a man, and giving her pleasure, does the same for me.

I set one breast free, claiming the other, learning its tricks and temperament for giving me what I wanted. I palmed her other breast, making sure it knew it hadn’t been forgotten. Catriona moaned heavily against me, a leg wrapping around my rubbing thigh.

I drank from her. I possessed her. And when she came hard against my body, my thigh coated in her juice, I claimed responsibility for her climax as well. Exactly as she’d been doing each morning with me.