felt ring

all the time my head buzzed with the impossibility of girls: girls who found exactly the right shade of rose shirt to wear with my skirt, who were impossibly talented in fashion; girls who braided my hair and kissed my cheeks while talking about their favorite mountains; girls who gently guided me through going to the gym and who would get ice cream with me in the sweaty aftermath; girls who looked dangerous but were always ready to watch a show and drink wine with me, who scratched the faces of boys who dared demand too much of me; girls who were quiet and gave me their highlighted notes in fonts i couldn’t dream of, who stood up to other girls when they stepped out of line. girls who protected me, girls i protected, girls who came to me for advice on being woman if the body feels wrong and who gave me advice on how not to quit life despite the fact i felt like a constantly ringing last song. 

all the time they were perfect, impeccably so, from the round laughing cheeks to the photogenic queens to the sundae messes to the freckles to the core of them. girls flooded every nerve ending with the ability to somehow exist so wondrously that you were sure you were in a dream.


“Don’t think I don’t know why you’re really here.”

Ryleigh froze at the sound of the voice. She’d returned to her room to get changed after Bernard had delivered a message saying Mrs Benali wanted them both in the dining room for dinner, and when she’d come out her room she found Mrs Benali and Salim standing outside his room on the landing across from her, arguing.

“What do you mean?” Salim sounded exasperated. “You’re family and it’s the holidays. Why else would I have come?”

“You are not having it,” Mrs Benali snapped angrily.

“Having what?” Salim threw his hands up in the air, apparently not understand what his mother was talking about.

“You are not going to give that girl my mother’s ring!”

Ryleigh felt her heart stop at the same time Salim’s entire body tensed. Was his mother suggesting what she thought? She couldn’t possibly be, they hadn’t even been together for six months.

“Mother I don’t—” Salim started but his mother cut him off.

“No I don’t want to hear it Salim,” she snapped. “That girl is not good enough for you. She has no family, no home, no money. She barely has a job for god sakes Salim! I cannot let you throw away your future on some trash—”

“Stop right there,” Salim didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t need to; his voice was so full of rage and power that it would have stopped anyone mid-sentence. “If you say one more bad word about her, we’re done. Do you hear me mother?”

“You would throw everything away for her?” Mrs Benali scoffed.

“Everything,” Salim confirmed. “She’s done nothing to you but try to be polite and kind, and all you and father have done is treat her like she’s nothing more than the dirt underneath you shoes. You couldn’t even do me, your own son, the kindness of at least trying to get to know her before you judged her.”

“I don’t need to get to know her,” Mrs Benali shot back. “I know her type.”

“She has no type!” Salim’s voice finally raised to a shout. “She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met and that is what I love about her most. That’s right mother, I love her, and your opinion of her isn’t going to change that. I didn’t come here for that stupid ring, I came here in the hopes that we could put the past behind us and you could be happy for me that I’ve found someone. I see now how stupid I was to think that. I have no plans to give her any kind of ring until she’s ready, and when that time comes I won’t be giving her your precious mother’s ring; Ryleigh deserves better than that.”

He turned and stormed away from his mother in her direction and it wasn’t until he reached the corner of the banister that he realised she’d been watching. He froze in surprise for a few seconds when he saw her before sweeping over to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder, guiding her back towards her room.

“Pack your bags,” he said sharply. Ryleigh could practically feel the rage radiating off him. “We’re leaving.”


I don’t have the energy to rehash tonight’s hysterics. I think you should leave. I’m not here to apologize about what happened tonight. Then what are you here to apologize for?                                          Everything else.

Steady as you go

A Gajevy week prompt! 

Trouble Twins!



Levy was at a loss. She had tried everything; little tips from other parents, research from books that Lucy had been kind enough to bring her, and instructions from Porlyuisca. Yet she couldn’t comfort her poor squalling babies, both of whom were running slight temperatures.  

She knew that she had nothing to worry about, she and Gajeel had done everything right and only had to keep the twins comfortable till they were cured. Still she couldn’t help the tears as she cuddled with Shutora on the couch, humming as she watched her husband try to sooth Yajeh from across the living room. He looked as exhausted as she felt, dark rings under his eyes from the lack of sleep. She had to give him props, though. Since they had gotten sick, he hadn’t left her side while they wailed. Even Lily had been more than helpful in taking care of them, enlisting the help of Alzack and Bisca.  

And they had more than enough help coming from the rest of the guild as well, with well-wishers coming almost constantly to offer their own tips. Finally irritated to the point of bursting, Levy had taken both of the twins to the bedroom and shut the door, wishing for a quiet moment. To her utter surprise, (and Gajeel’s as well) Jet and Droy posted themselves in front of their front door, barring any more well-wishers from bothering the exhausted parents. She could understand the rest of the guild wanting to help, but she was more than thankful for her boys.  

“Finally got him to sleep,” Gajeel sighed, easing himself into the chair next to her. She nodded, glancing up at him and the baby who had tucked his tiny hand into his father’s hair. Shutora had drifted off as well, providing them with a rare moment of silence. Sniffling, Levy reached for his hand, biting her chapped lips as he grasped her fingers gently. He squeezed them gingerly, rubbing them as he studied her face.  

“Gajeel,” she murmured, and he rumbled as tears slipped over her cheeks again.  

“Lev, it’s okay, the kids are fine,” he reasoned. “Kids get sick, we ain’t done nothing wrong.” She nodded, despite her quivering lip.  

“I know, but still,” she said. “I feel so horrible, knowing I can’t help them feel better right away.” She snuffled as Gajeel gently got up and set his sleeping son on her chest, nestled next to his sister. He then took the corner of the soft blanket and wiped her tears away, kissing her brow and nose soothingly.  

“Yer a great mom already, Lev,” he muttered, tweaking her nose. “The kids will get better in no time, I promise.” He ran his hand through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. She sighed in relief, relaxing against his hand as he tugged another blanket up over her legs. Her eyelids drooped lower and lower as his fingers continued to lull her into a doze, comforted by his presence.  

“Mmm, Gajeel?” She murmured, feeling the tug of sleep creep up on her. He paused in his administrations, crooning in her ear. “You’re a great dad, you know?” After a heavy moment of silence, she could feel his lips on hers, soft and tender as she succumbed to sleep finally.

*I’ve Missed You Pt 1* Newt x reader

This is something that popped in to my head recently and decided to give it go!

Synopsis: Years after Newt’s mysterious expulsion from Hogwarts, you never hear from him and your friendship fades away. You graduate and end up engaged to the current head of Aurors. One day your paths cross and the old feelings from years ago begin to rise to the surface. 

-October 1924

“I’ll see you later, Jamie” You kissed your fiancé as he made his way out the door. Peering out the window of your apartment, you smiled as you watched him disappear in to the distance. You hadn’t felt this happy in years. You’d met Jamie two years back while out with friends at one of the wizarding bars. He was a highly successful wizard, just being appointed as the head Auror, and only weeks ago he had finally popped the question. Looking down at your ring, you felt the excitement rise inside you as you envisioned how your perfect day would go.

Keep reading

In Love With A Sociopath (Sherlock x Reader)

HOLY OMG WHERE DID ALL THESE FOLLOWERS COMe From!! Thanks anon for requesting xx

You played a bit with the diamond on your left ring finger as you waited for the rest of the team. Being on forensics was tough, and wasn’t as fun without your husband, the sweet, puppy-like man you knew as Sherlock Holmes.

Leading everyone in, you examined the body. Ignoring some snarky comments from Anderson, downright silly from Donovan, you kinda figured it out.

“Thank god ‘Sherlock’ isn’t here. He would just scream at me to shut up. It’s good to know people with sanity care about my opinions. He’s so ignorant, stupid, downright rude! I hope he falls, sometime, you know? In power.” He said, smacking his lips together.

You stiffened. You felt your ring he so passionately put on your finger burn in your bone. Hair on the back of your neck began to stand. Nobody messed with YOUR Sherlock.

“Excuse me?” You asked, cocking your head slightly. Anderson trembled a bit.

“I…I was just say-”

“For your information, smart ass, Sherlock is a brilliant man. He is kind, and cunning, and sweet. The best man I’ve ever met. In fact, since you’ve been to busy tastelessly flirting to notice, there is a jewel on my left hand. And do you know who put it there? The detective himself, Sherlock Holmes.” You said, voice rising angrily.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.


“I’m really sorry miss (Y/L/N) and please forgive me please don’t fire me it’s the only job I’ve got.” He said quickly, wincing.

“Good enough. Get this body to the morgue. I’ve got all the details. SHERLOCK will sort them out.” You ordered, huffing, as they all quietly did what you said.

Getting back to Scotland Yard, you went into Lestrade’s office and he offered you a Coffee. You put your head in your hands.

“He insulted Sherlock today.” You confessed.

“Oooh. I wouldn’t have wanted to be there.” He chuckled.

“Well…I don’t know…I love the sociopath. I’m IN love, with a sociopath.” You giggled.

“That’s him.”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

Worrying Means You Suffer Twice: A Newt Scamander Fanfiction

Years ago in New York Newt had told his best friend that “worrying means you suffer twice.” This was something he’d always believed. Well he had believed this up until recently anyway. Newt walked along the familiar streets he always took on the way to the Goldstein girls’ apartment; streets that always filled him with excitement but this time only increased his uneasiness.
“She’ll say yes.” He told himself as he walked along. “We’ve discussed it before and she always seemed like she’d go for it.” Newt reached into his old coat pocket and felt the small ring box. “What if she hates the ring. Provided she says yes she’ll have to look at it the rest of her life.”
He was so distracted he barely realized he’d made it to her apartment. Sneaking up to her door passed the land lady was easy but he hesitated before knocking. He could still turn and run. He took and deep breath and knocked on the door. Tina opened the door and smiled her bright, beautiful smile. The worry fell away and he realized that worrying had only made him suffer because the risk of her saying no was greatly outweighed by the chance to see that smile everyday.

brojaq Thinking of you 😘🇺🇸 #longliveAmericastough ~||~ “They don’t care how much you believe in diversity, equality, or freedom of speech.

I’m sorry that you have never smelled the breath of a man who wants to kill you. I am sorry that you have never felt the alarm bells ringing in your body, the combination of fear and adrenaline, as you move towards the fight, instead of running from it. I am sorry you have never heard someone cry out for help, or cried out for help yourself, relying on the courage of others to bring you home. I am sorry you have never tasted the salt from your own tears, as you stand at a flag draped coffins, burying men you were humbled to call your friends. I don’t wish those experiences on you, but I wish you had them. It would change the way you act, it would change the way you value, it would change the way you appreciate. You become quick to open your eyes, and slow to open your mouth.

Most will never understand the sacrifice required to keep men from that compound away from our doorstep, but it would not hurt you to try. ” - @andystumpf212


but through the pain you share
you’ll find e a c h  o t h e r

When We Almost Loved *IMAGINE* #WonhoEdition {Requested}

“Can you write a soul crushing, hell raising angst drabble about Wonho (x reader) getting amnesia”

Here you go anon! :)

Originally posted by kihqun

Today was going to be the day.

Wonho smiled to himself as he reached his hand into his left pocket and felt the tiny silver ring. He had gotten 2 more jobs plus sold his motor bike to pay for the ring and he hoped to God that you would love it.

It had been so long since he had even seen you. His jobs had been out of town and for 2 months he had been only been able to communicate with you by phone calls, texts and sparse Skype dates whenever your schedules would allow.

He missed you.

That was why today would be so great. You had no idea that he was coming back. He would surprise you. Confess his love and then kiss you like it was the first time.

He dialed your phone.

“Hello?” A strange voice answered.

“Umm Hey who is this? I’m trying to call Y/N” Wonho asked curious as to who was on the other end.

“Wonho? Um… there’s something I need to tell you?” The voice asked getting excited and talking in a rush.

“Who are you? Why are you on Y/N’s phone?”

“I’m Jhene, her sister….come to the hospital on 6th and Highland. I’ll explain everything there.”


Dial tone.

She had hung up. 

What was going on? Why was Jhene answering the phone? Why did she want him to come to the hospital? What was wrong?

Wonho quickly hurried and threw on his shoes and hailed a taxi, the city was big and the traffic moved slow as he shouted at the driver to get him to his destination swiftly. Once the car pulled up in from of the building, he unsnapped his seat belt, threw a fist full of bills at the driver, and ran through the revolving doors into the hospital.

Where am I even suppose to go?

He wondered, reaching into his pocket to dial you again but spying your sister approaching from the left.

“Jhene!! What the fuck is going on! Why are we we here! Where’s my Y/N?!!”

“Calm down Wonho, everything will be fine. There was an accident when you were gone. But she is doing better, i promise! She had some head trauma but she’s strong as an ox. Just calm down and I’ll take you to her.”

“Accident!! What accide-”

“Just come on!”

Wonho followed Jhene as she turned and started walking through the hospital and down the halls. His heart was thumping out of his chest and he kept balling his hands into his fist to try and release the inner pressure that was tormenting him. Jhene came to a room, opened the door and walked in but Wonho hesitated.

He was scared of what he might see on the other side of the door. He didn’t know if he could survive you being hurt. Especially when had been so far away while it had happened.

Slowly he entered the room. Your mother and your sister were both sitting in chairs on one side with teddy bears and flowers that friends had brought, and your mom gave Wonho a strained smile as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Wonho smiled back tightly and let his eyes drift off to the hospital bed on the other side of the room.

There you were lying down with a cut above your right eye and a giant purplish bruise on the left side of your face. You looked swollen and your hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail.


Your eyes were open.

You were staring back at the handsome man standing in your room. He was an attractive man you thought to yourself, but you could see that he looked a little disheveled. One pants leg was rolled over his boots, the other was undone. His jacket hung on his shoulders loosely and his eyes looked like they were on the verge of tears.

“Excuse me?” You asked. “Who are you?”

A piercing arrow of pain shot through Wonho ravaging his insides and he took a step back like he had been stabbed.

“W-who a-am I?” He repeated, eyes beginning to brim.

“Yes, who are you?” You replied again. Why was he looking so pained by you not knowing who he was? And why was your mom crying again?

Wonho took a deep breath and forced himself to come stand at your bedside. He grabbed your right hand and held it in between his. Part of you was so flustered at having this man touch you so intimately but another part was beginning to sense that something was very wrong.

“I’m Wonho” He told you. His voice cracking. “Do you know me now?”

You searched his face, you dug deep, trying to find a picture to match but none manifested.

“I don’t know you.” 

Wonho blinked back the tears and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Wonho…..I’m your boyfriend. We…we love each other.”

You pulled your hand away.

“Sorry, I don’t know you.”

Wonho tried to plaster a smile on his face but it faltered around the edges. 

“Remember meeting each other when you worked as a delivery driver and I keep ordering pizzas just so that I could see you?”

He looked at you hopefully desperate for the memories to flood back into your head.

“No, I don’t. Can you leave? I don’t feel comfortable.”

A gasp slipped from Jhene’s lips and she tried to give him an encouraging look as his eyes met hers.

“Okay, I’ll leave, but is it okay if I come back a little later to talk to you again?”

His question hung in your mind. It hurt. It freaking hurt to try and figure out who he was. Seeing him looking so sad and your mom and sister crying made you feel miserable and sore. You were still so sore. You didn’t want to do this. Not right now.

“Can you please not.” You asked him softly. “I really don’t want to see you right now.”

“Y/N!” Your sister screamed but your mother shook her head at her and came and grabbed the pretty man by the shoulders.

“I think giving her some time and space may be a good idea Wonho.” She told him. “We’ll call you if anything changes.”

The tears poured silently down his cheeks as he nodded curtly in agreement and exited the room.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he sunk down onto the floor, put his head in his hands and cried.

This was not how the love story was suppose to end. He was suppose to surprise you, pick you up and hug you, kiss you like you were his oxygen and then get down on one knee.

But you didn’t even know who he was. Worse it looked like you didn’t even care to know.


Wonho looked up to see a nurse looking down on him.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave. No loitering in the hallwa-”

“I’M LEAVING DAMN IT CAN’T YOU SEE I’M IN PAIN HERE!” Wonho hollered at him, getting off the ground and turning to go.

As the cool night air bathed his face as he exited the hospital he reached his hand back into his pocket. The ring was still there. That was a sign.

You may have forgotten him. The love may have been hidden. But he could start over. He could meet you again. He wasn’t going to give up. And he wasn’t going to let you go.

Originally posted by monstaxmemes

That Thing Harry Said

I just finished Cursed Child and would like to forget most of it. The problem is, there are some words that stick with you for your entire life.

I apologize that this is going to get personal, but -

I’ve never had a parent say they wished I wasn’t their child. I do remember my father once saying that if I wanted a ‘proper father’ I should just tell my mother to get remarried, though. Fifteen years later, I can still tell you about how old I was, where I was, how I felt. The words still ring in my head from time to time. After two decades of bullshit and yelling and tears and arguments, it’s that one stupid phrase – “tell your mother to get remarried, then!” – that I always come back to when trying to explain my disillusionment and distrust and alienation.

And the funny part of it is, I’d never accuse my father of saying he wished I wasn’t his child. It’s such an utterly horrible thing to say that for all our problems I wouldn’t comfortably assume that sentiment of him.

Of course parents fuck up. They say and do stupid things, by accident or on purpose. I don’t have a problem with seeing that portrayed in literature.  I don’t have an issue with Harry Potter struggling to communicate with his son. I don’t mind seeing him make mistakes, or blow up and yell – goodness knows hot tempers run in the Potter-Weasley family.

But –

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t my son!”

Fuck you, John Tiffany and Jack Thorne, for writing that line. And massive disappointment in you, JKR, for okaying it.

That is not my Harry – not my orphan child shoved, unwanted, under the stairs, locked away and scolded and abused and hoping for nothing more than a place to belong, people who loved him, people who wished for him to be theirs. Who was still so surprised every time his newfound family seemed to want him around. Who, if he was consciously aware of anything as he moved into adulthood, into parenthood, must surely have sworn to himself that he’d never make his child feel how he’d once felt.

That is not my canon.