i almost cried in this part

I’m back at my apartment.  Every time I come back here, it feels colder.  St Petersburg is sunshine, and here…. not so much.  I can’t help but feel worried about Yuri.  He says he’s fine but… I can just tell he’s not.  I don’t understand what’s upsetting him… and he won’t talk to me.  

I don’t want him to be alone right now…. it’s almost that time of year where his parents died.  I know that must be part of this… whatever it is.  They died when he was six.  And it’s really hard to talk about it, even to himself.  The only time he mentioned it to me, he cried for an hour and then started swearing.  He hated looking “weak”, he said.  I know he wears his anger as a protective shield… some people smile through hurt, trying to get everyone to like them.  He tends to do the opposite, I’ve noticed.  Because of this, it’s hard for me to know what he’s thinking.  And I wish he’d let me in more…. 

I thought this was all due to some comment, and that our fighting was over with… but I can’t help but think there’s more to it than that.  Oh Yuri, I know I’m not the greatest person in the world, but I promise you can tell me anything…

All of this uncertainty… it’s tearing me apart…. please tell me what’s wrong.

2

being adam parrish was a complicated thing, a wonder of muscles and organs, synapses and nerves. he was a miracle of moving parts, a study in survival. the most important thing to adam parrish, though, had always been free will, the ability to be his own master. this was the important thing. it had always been the most important thing. this was what it was to be adam.

Watch on exoticarmy127.tumblr.com

This is the most hilarous thing I have ever watched in my entire life.


First of all, NAMJOON WAS SO RELATABLE. HE PLAYED OUR ROLE SO WELL. I’M SO IMPRESSED HAHA

Second, Tae Tae’s glasses looks so cute on him!

Third, OKAY JIN DESERVES AN OSCAR FOR PLAYING MULTIPLE ROLES IN THIS DRAMA

Fourth, JUNG HOSEOK YOU PRETTY WOMAN, HE AND NAMJOON WERE SO CUTE!! The fanchant part got me laughing so hard I almost cried. 

Fifth, I want a puppy Jimin PLEASE

Sixth, we all want to sue Yoongi for being so darn cute!!!

And lastly… I CANNOT GET OVER JEON JUNGKOOK’S “HELLO” WTH. And wow #dadgoals to get them tickets to a fan meeting. hahahaha

i’m honestly so sick of people trying to defend makeup. i wear loads of it every day and i hate it. it’s taken over parts of my life.

since the seventh grade, i have only gone to school without makeup ONCE. i’m about to graduate high school.

in the span of almost 5 years, i have never gone to school without makeup, except for one day when my therapist made me. 5 YEARS. i refuse to go without it. the one day i did it (a month ago) i cried. i kept my head down the whole day. i felt like i was showing the world i was lying to them.

i won’t go to family events without makeup. i won’t pick up food without makeup on. most of the time, i won’t even go to fucking walgreens without makeup on.

i have been taught by society that my natural face is not good enough. at first makeup was fun and cute and girly and now it’s a prison. it’s a mask i wear that makes me hate myself.

i don’t want people at school to see the real, ugly me. i don’t want my relatives to see that their pretty niece or granddaughter or cousin is actually ugly. i don’t want people to look at me and see my ugly. i feel like i’m lying to everyone.

i feel like such an inadequate girl and the least i could do is doll up my face. people tell me that i look fine as i do normally and i do think that i probably don’t look bad but… i will still feel like i’m ugly.

it’s great that liberal feminism helped me push down some of that self loathing!! at least i was smashing the patriarchy with my eyeliner! i’m sure guys were soooo intimidated by my makeup and they totally wanted to respect me more! it’s not like other old men were profiting off the self loathing i felt for myself!

i’m still trying every day to break free from these feelings but it’s so hard. so if you’re trying to shame me for speaking out against the beauty industry, i have two words for you - FUCK YOU.

So I know how YOI will end

I’ve been screaming for a solid ten minutes since I finished episode 9, as I’m sure the rest of you have. I might come back later and talk about other things I figured out this ep, but first of all: I have figured out how the relationship between Yuuri and Viktor is going to turn out.

Now, obviously anyone with eyes can see that at the end of this episode, they’re pretty in love. Bless their souls. I cried during the reunion scene. However, the biggest thing I (and surely you did too) focused on was that Viktor said, “It’s almost like a marriage proposal.” Yuuri doesn’t deny it, he just smiles and hugs Viktor again. Then, in the preview, we get Viktor asking Yuuri, “What are you getting me for Christmas?”

Yuuri replies, “Something round and gold.” This is the important part. I jumped to the conclusion of a wedding ring and proceeded to bust my own ear drum screaming, but after watching the scene 6 more times I finally realized that Yuuri was alluding to the GPF medal - or is he?

Here’s my theory: why not both? I think Yuuri’s going to win his gold medal at the GPF, and then when he gets it, who is he going to give it to? That’s right. I think Yuuri’s going to propose to Viktor with his medal. Something they won together, something he could have never gotten without Viktor, something that means more to these two than any ring could.

7
Swan (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

A/N: Okay, so I literally spent weeks writing this imagine and I almost cried when I finished it so I really hope you’ll enjoy. Hope you like how this turned out in the end XD 

P/S: Of course there’ll be a second part, the Astronomy Tower thing hasn’t happened yet.


If anyone was going to keep claiming that destruction is building around people little by little, like unseen shadows and unheard whispers, Y/N would safely contradict their strong beliefs with all the venom she could gather. It was all bullshit.

Utter bullshit.

And Y/N had to learn this the hard way.

When her world crumbled into tiny pieces, drowning her into impossible hopes and painful thoughts, which were once her everything, only to become her nothing. When her books scattered to the ground, her grip loosening and then giving away completely, her arms hanging loosely on either side of her body. Her mouth was slightly agape and her mind seemed a blur. But as she caught his familiar frame, her blood quickly boiled away the confusion in her veins.

She felt rage lurking through her body. The sight of his venomous smirk and pale, snowy features made her chest compress.

“Malfoy” she spat the words furiously, like they burned her tongue.

His lids lowered over his eyes, until they were only two slices of hidden ice. His lip curled up into a poisoned smile as he took her in.

“Y/L/N” he snapped, his lips moving with a repulsive twitch.

Dumbledore has officially gone mad.

She growled. The sight of his smirk was going to be forever burned on her retina, never leaving her memory. The dreadful words towards her and her friends which passed his lips with such ease were going to haunt her forever, echo around the walls of her mind.

Her hand instinctively reached up towards her neck, where a necklace Harry gave her was hanging and touched it lightly with the tips of her fingers. She felt like all her sanity was hanging from it too at the very moment.

She didn’t miss the contradictory flash in his eyes at her action.

“So you’re still Potter’s bitch, I see” he growled lowly, curling his lip.

“You son of a-”

“Is Potter here too, hiding behind your back or something? Or do you have tosser repellent somewhere between those books?”

Y/N locked her jaw and chewed on her tongue with growing fury. She only stopped when she felt a salty taste, somewhere, in one corner of her mouth. But she remained still, watching him with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth, but avoided to stare directly into his icy eyes for self-control measures. He stared back for a while, before he adverted his gaze, something from outside the window seeming to catch his attention.

He remained almost unchanged. The same blonde hair, the same snowy features and stormy, hidden eyes. Although he did seem more tired. The deep circles under his eyes and permanent frown he wore darkened his features. He seemed to be paler too, his skin shining like a paper sheet in the ghostly light. Good. She was glad he was suffering. Glad he received what he deserved.

And still… He managed to keep an air of beauty in all he did. The bastard…  

But all the terrible things he did, all the terrible things he said and thought… All the terrible things he is going to do. They haunted Y/N’s mind like the ghosts of the dead, screaming memories which should be forgotten, or murmuring things she’d like to remember.

No, she blamed it all on illogical thinking which led to a moment of pure insanity. That’s all…

“You are a joke of a human being” she murmured soberly after a few solid minutes of tensed silence.

His eyes snapped back to her, sour and with a dangerous flash.

“What-”

But then Y/N caught his frozen gaze and felt something in her soul snap. Her eyes widened, darkening a fraction, all of her heavy feelings flowing up to the surface and dancing around her Y/E/C irises.

“You have nothing. You are nothing. No friends, no achievements… I bet no family too. They’re probably keeping you alive for your precious Dark Lord’s purposes”

Venom was filling her voice, and she found it intoxicating. His expression suddenly changed, dangerous thunders dancing across his features at the mention of his family. His mouth curved into a cold sneer.

“What does it feel like?” Y/N asked lowly, furrowing her brows. “How does it feel like to know you are worthless for this world?”

“What the fuck do you mean, Mudblood?” his voice was shaky, filled with untamed rage, as he spat the words at her, disgusted.

“Don’t you get it? You can’t do anything good-”

“Fuck off-”

“You can’t even be a proper Death Eater, pissing Voldemort off until he’d torture you. Your constant failure to do anything worthwhile has destroyed any expectations or confidence anyone had in you”

She felt like mirroring the sinister sneer on his lips as she saw his cocky façade flinch at her words.

Failure.

His jaw locked and his stare fell on his lap. He seemed to chew on his tongue for a while, as the need to challenge the witch felt rich in his throat, tickling his tonsils and urging him to ball his fist until all the blood drained from his knuckles. He gritted his teeth until he could literally hear them screech, but refused to release the tension in his jaw.

It felt degrading.

How she knew those painful things. Those fucking truths. It hurt his very core. To acknowledge the fact that he didn’t do one bloody thing the right way. No matter which side he tried to please, he’d fail miserably.

The same went for Voldemort. The fucker probably wanted his head on a golden plate considering how the summer passed at the Malfoy Manor.

It has been a shit day for Draco. A shit month. A shit year.

“I didn’t have a choice” he muttered scratchily, unable to stop the words from passing his lips.    

Y/N’s head snapped towards him so quickly, she thought she heard the bones crack and snap. If she hadn’t been so close to him, she probably wouldn’t have heard his accidental confession. For a moment, she wondered if he even addressed her, seeming like he was completely oblivious to the world.

Her eyebrows twitched as she regarded him with narrowed eyes. He was staring blankly at the wooden bench before him, the subtle movements of the train making his body rock back and forth gently. His lids felt heavy and the sound of the wind blowing made his powerful heartbeat rise up to his ears and temples.

With a moment of hesitation, Y/N slowly entered the compartment and approached the wooden bench with wary steps. She sat down gently and bowed her head to peer at Draco’s face. Her eyebrow arched at the sight of his half closed eyes. His breath was deeper, harsher, she observed, and the rise and falls of his chest became regular. Then, her stare hopelessly fell on his parted lips.

She quickly scolded herself for her too lingering gaze and reached a book she brought with her, opening at the first page and inhaling the satisfactory smell of old books. Her lungs filled with an intoxicating smell and her lips parted, mumbled, rhythmic words tumbling from her mouth and filling the room drowned in honey light, the final rays of sun slicing through the glass and dancing across their features.

“You have no choice either, Head Girl… You’re stuck with me.” he breathed, making her close her eyes with a flutter and a soft sigh.

She leaned her forehead against the cold, foggy window, gulping down the tight lump in her throat.

Draco’s lids finally fluttered shut as he let himself fall into the unknown depths of unconsciousness, forbidden dreams blurring his mind and sweet feminine murmurs echoing as a lullaby at the back of his head.  


Shrilling sounds pierced through Y/N’s brain. Still in a blissful state, she rolled on her side, trying to hide behind her peaceful dreams again and tucked her head under a pillow, hoping that would block reality from her sleeping form. But as more sounds tiptoed their way into her room, she finally let go of the drowsy feeling which was engulfing her only few moments ago.

She lifted a heavy lid, pure darkness blocking her view. The next bang sliced at her sleepy ears with a grating echo, causing a soft groan to escape her slightly swollen lips.

Then, as more crashing sounds pierced her ears, her eyes snapped open and went wide, while she sucked in a harsh gasp. Her palms went to cover her livid face. Blinking away the last remains of her sleep, she gulped back her dry throat.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks and she already felt like dying.

When she lowered her hands and tilted her head, a scowl was plastered on her face. With a grit of her teeth, she threw her legs over the edge of the bed and pushed herself from between the covers. When her sock covered feet stopped in front of the door and her fingers curled around the doorknob, she took in a calming breath and opened the door with an expressionless face.

As her eyes darted around the dark hallway, a loud crashing sound escaped from his room. Her body cringed immediately, the straight face she’d put on faltering and her jaw locking. She approached his room, eyeing his door with narrowed eyes.

Grasping the door handle between her fingers, a shiver trailed down her spine. She was about to enter an unknown territory, a dark world, which she avoided with much wariness. His territory. Until now. She yanked the door open with a small breath and peered inside the room.

Y/N gasped at the mess in front of her.  

The furniture in his room was completely shattered, dented beyond recognition. The window was broken and the bedding was ripped, like some kind of animal leashed from deep within him, its claws digging into the sheets like they would do with flesh. Pieces of shattered glass and wood shards were decorating the floor. The single flower he ever had in his room was then lying at his feet like a dying swan, its white petals withered, lifeless.

He was standing in the middle of the floor, with his palms against his face, slumped into a defeated position. He was muttering between ragged breaths, his lip curling every time a word would leave his mouth.

Y/N’s wild stare scanned the wreckage with confusion, before her eyes were drawn to Draco, in the centre of the room. She felt a glitch in her chest and she rushed to his side, sinking to her knees and grabbing his shoulder gently with a hand, the other going up to his face.

“Draco” she whispered close to his face, feeling all of her previous anger drain “Draco, what’s wrong?”

The snowy boy slowly tilted his head towards her, his unfocused and absent eyes flashing with a hint of recognition and life. She sighed in relief, lightly stroking his pale cheek with her thumb.

“Draco, look at me” she pleaded, slightly pushing his chin up “What happened?”

His half lidded eyes slowly travelled across her features and wandered on her gaze.

“I don’t know” he whispered, his lips barely parting.

Y/N’s brows knitted together in a deep frown. His voice sounded awfully absent.

“Draco” she repeated quietly, bowing her head a little to gaze into his stormy eyes “Tell me why you trashed your room”

“How long have we been here, Y/L/N?”

Her eyebrows twitched, but she quickly added up the dates in her mind.

“No more than a few weeks. Three, I think” she offered, watching him close his eyes and sigh.

“It feels longer”

She narrowed her eyes slightly at his remark, but nevertheless grabbed her wand.

“I’m going to… fix your room, okay? Just… don’t move”

With a quick flick of her wand, all of the broken shards came back together. He didn’t even flinch. Lowering her wand, Y/N peered at Draco again.

The ease her concern came with when seeing him in his lonely heap on the floor frightened her. But at the same time, the distant look in his orbs made her chest ache.

She didn’t really remember when she started to, but she cared for him, although it was a poisonous feeling to share. And even if it hurt her pride to acknowledge it, she didn’t despise him anymore. Almost all of her negative feelings toward the contradictious blonde seemed to dissolve over the past few weeks in which they were forced to live together.

A sigh escaped her lips as she watched him gaze off into the distance.

Merlin forgive me…

She shifted from her position slightly so that she was now facing him. Placing her leg between his, she leaned in and rested her head onto his shoulder, her arms taking a hold of his neck. In the first few seconds, she feared he might reject her, or feel the anxious beats of her heart, but his body soon relaxed, his arms snaking around her waist. She let out a relived breath, before closing her eyes.

They stood like that for what seemed like hours, in each other’s arms, neither of them wanting to break the silence.

With his arms around her and with his warmth engulfing her, Y/N seemed to figure more than one thing out.

He wasn’t that insufferable prick she’d known for so many years. At least not all the time. At least not anymore. Something was changing him. Maybe the war. Maybe something else. But he began making his own choices and judgements. He began thinking for himself and, after all those days with hot headed arguments and venomous words, he finally seemed to step over some of his prejudices. He had begun to see past his pride and all that pure blood bullshit.

An almost smile crept across her lips.

She was changing too.

She wasn’t seeing him just as a Death Eater anymore. He wasn’t like them. Cruel, brain washed… evil. No. He was not evil. He has been misled. Because he had his own thoughts and opinions. They were just denied by everyone in his family, replaced with some ridiculous bollocks.

Death Eaters were inhuman, almost.  

Draco was certainly human, despite his every attempt to erase his feelings. The ice in his soul finally began to melt.

She, herself, began melting. At the sight of him. At the thought of him. Because of him.

The bastard…

If she’d had any doubts before, the deep, natural concern she felt for his strange behaviour washed them all.

And she found it worrisome. He was still unpredictable.

This arrangement seemed to fuck with her brain even further.  

Because she didn’t care anymore. About the terrible things he’d done, or said. Or about his rejections and icy behaviour towards her. Or about his conflicted thoughts. About him being a Slytherin, or about his inked forearm. She was going to help him.

Because she didn’t fucking care anymore.

“Tomorrow is going to be different…” he murmured in a scratchy voice, breaking the silence. “Like usual”

“I know, Draco” Y/N answered after a slight pause. “I know”

That night, she became another person…


Y/N yawned, her free hand moving up to rub her tired eyes. The old pieces of parchment laid scattered in front of her, while numerous books occupied the space on her desk. This War was eating her whole and draining the last drop of energy she had. Well, whatever remained at the end of her “Draco spent” day.

And the worst thing was, no matter how hard she tried to eradicate him from her thoughts, she just couldn’t. Be it in stubborn flashbacks of their… soft moments spent together or just in general musings about his behaviour and words, he just won’t bloody leave her mind.

But then again, did she really want him to leave her head?

She sighed, smoothening her Y/H/C curls with a quick move of her hand.

She wasn’t sure anymore. Everything seemed a blur. All she wanted, at the moment, was to change his mind. To make him realise that she was a person, despite her blood. That the damned blood did not matter.

And he seemed to change his reflection on things. She could see it. He was still battling with his prejudices, but he was slowly starting to acknowledge that they were all the same, in a way or another: mudbloods, purebloods, half-bloods or squibs. That your blood status should not determine the way you’re supposed to live your life.

She just… she just wanted him to view them differently. To view her differently.

Shit. This was not healthy thinking at all.

But she was almost certain that he was starting to doubt her blood status issues.

Or at least she hoped he was.

She shook her head, trying to cast away the confusing thoughts which were lurking inside her already messed up brain. She blinked a few times just to prove her point and focused her gaze on the scribbled page before her eyes.

I need to concentrate… “A Horcrux is an object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul for the purpose of attaining immortality-”

Y/N stopped herself short. She has already read that sentence three times now.

Bugger.

She groaned in annoyance, banging her head against the desk. She really started to wonder if this arrangement Dumbledore settled for them was appropriate… or healthy, if anything.

Probably not.

A shiver chased up her spine and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing at her cold skin. She lunged for her bed, grabbing a soft blanket and lightly placed it across her shoulders, tugging at it and its warmth.

Then, a dangerous thought crossed her mind.

What if he’s cold?

She found herself worrying about him, when really she shouldn’t. She was starting to question if these unexplained emotions were coming from selfish reasons. It would have been the best alternative.

Shame it wasn’t true one indeed.

Y/N predictably chewed on her lip, while debating what the bloody hell she should do.

“Godric forgive me for what the hell I’m doing” she murmured to herself, while she lightly creeped out of her room and tiptoed across the hallway.

With at least three minutes of hesitation outside his door, she swallowed back the bitter lump in her throat and angled her wand in its direction.

“Alohomora”

Y/N couldn’t help but grimace as the door cracked open, revealing his dark room.

Good grief, what am I even doing here?

She pushed a little more magic into her dim Lumos charm, just enough to discern blurry shapes and outlines. She peered inside the room and took a few tentative steps inside. Her gaze eventually fell onto the limp heap from the bed. She stretched her arm a little bit more, pointing her wand towards him. The light shimmered on his white skin, giving life to moonlight reflections across his face and urging her to bite her lip nervously.

Draco was having a nightmare and the terrible whimpers that stumbled from his lips made the muscles in Y/N’s body tense. Staring a little bit further, she caught the light from her wand shining in silvery droplets against his forehead. One isolated droplet smoothly travelled across the skin of his temple and jaw, coming to rest onto his lips. Y/N followed its path with petrified eyes and parted lips, her stare catching every roll and slide.

Y/N had to clasp her hand against her mouth to muffle the loud gasp that slipped past her lips. Her eyes widened a fraction as reality seemed to crawl its way back in, bringing painful realisations in her mind.

She couldn’t.    

Frowning in disbelief, she continued towards his bed warily.

He was trashing and squirming, mumbling shaky words from time to time. His face was covered in a layer of sweat, which was streaming down his forehead. Y/N watched helplessly as his dreams melted into a cold river and poured away from his head, only to enter his subconscious again, with a blurry fraction of this reality.

She sank to her knees beside his bed and slowly removed the thick blanket from her shoulders. Edging anxiously close, she peppered it over his body, accidentally brushing her hand against the frosty skin of his shoulder. Her muscles froze when he flinched at her touch and a mumble passed his dry lips.

“I have to do this. I have to kill you… Or he’s going to kill me…”  

Bringing a shaky hand to her mouth, her eyes darted up to his face, which was contorted with anguish. He seemed in pain, like he was tortured by the images that tumbled inside his head. Y/N didn’t know if it was cruel, but she could only find it fascinating.

“Draco” she whispered, softly touching his arm “Draco wake up”

He whined, cranking his neck to the side with a sudden move.

“Shhh” she lulled, resting her palms on both of his cheeks “It’s me, Draco. It’s okay… Wake up”

His tensed muscles immediately relaxed and his throaty growls slowly faded. Y/N let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“It’s okay, Draco. It’s okay… Wake up, wake up”

With her final murmur, smoky eyes flew open, his wild stare still unfocused. He stood up abruptly and grabbed both of her wrists, sending her body forward with a tug. Their chests collided, urging his laboured breath to hitch in his throat for a moment and sending an electric jolt throughout their bodies.

Y/N sank her teeth into her bottom lip and bit hard, enough to prevent any words from passing her lips. They were close. Dangerously so. And it made her chest burn.

His wild eyes travelled all over her face and she felt her features melt under his penetrating gaze. She stared right back at him, unable to tear her eyes away. She found herself mesmerized by the unknown feelings which swirled in the back of his stormy orbs.

Then, she blinked. And that seemed to urge time into flowing again.

“Y/L/N” he mumbled, snapping her out of her trance.

His eyes lowered a bit.

“What are you doing here?”

Y/N swallowed back her nerves and parted her lips, but no answer came out. Letting out a few shaky breaths, she finally let the words dart around the room.

“I- I thought you were cold… so I- I just… brought you a blanket”

His features barely softened, as his brow lowered.

“I’m sorry… I- I know I shouldn’t have entered your room but- but you had a nightmare and I just… You seemed tortured, so I woke you up…” she stuttered, lowering her gaze and turning her head away.

She hoped she’d escape from his penetrating eyes, but she still felt his stare at the back of her head. Her chest constricted with uneasiness and she shifted uncomfortably. Suddenly aware of their close proximity, she tried to put a little bit of space between their bodies, but Draco’s strong arm curled around her waist, keeping her in place. The frosty grip of his fingers coiled around her chin, tilting her head so they made eye contact again.

“Why?”

Her eyebrows twitched, mirroring his frown. Now that she thought about it… she hadn’t really had a reason to come. She just… felt like it. She was mentally punching herself for the shitty answer which came to her mind. The cold was just a pretext honestly. And now she felt rather pathetic. No, she was rather pathetic. She did not remember when her dangerous feelings for him bloomed inside her heart, flowers and petals opening every second she spent with him, thinking about him, seeing him…

Good God…

That was going to be the death of her.

“I- I told you already… I thought you were cold-”

But his figure remained doubtful while he cranked his neck to loom over her. Y/N barely had the time to release a surprised yelp as he brought his face close to hers and gripped her middle tighter, trapping her in his hold.

“Well I don’t buy it” he coldly remarked.

Y/N stifled a sigh of defeat. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek nervously.

“Besides…” she continued softly “I- I wanted to come”

She didn’t miss the shock which clouded his cold stare. As a result of her words, his stormy eyes softened, the icy gaze melting into liquid silver. Her heartbeat accelerated as she realised how close their faces were. His curious eyes peered into her Y/E/C orbs, searching for something she couldn’t make out. Without any hint of hesitation, she opened her mind and soul and heart to him. She wouldn’t have been able to resist in front of him anyway. She let him see the sincerity of her words, praying to unknown forces that his eyes saw right through her nervousness.

He slowly moved his stare from her orbs, his new interest consisting in her lips, which she was biting anxiously. His gaze flickered between her lips and eyes, before he swiftly sliced the final inches between them, his mouth catching hers.

The contact sent a pulse throughout her body. While her response came as timid, there was no hesitation from his part. There was passion between their mouths, but supressing that, was desperation. Desperation was filling the room and the air, intoxicating and suffocating the both of them.

Twenty beats of her heart and the kiss was over. But his face remained over hers. He dropped his forehead against hers, keeping their lips close. His hot breath stroked her cheeks and his fingers rubbed absent patterns across her back. Suddenly, she felt very tired. Her lids lowered, so her eyes were thin and almost hidden. Her whole body felt heavy. Too heavy. She propped herself against him, slumping her shoulders and hoping he’d hold her weight.

“Draco…” she whispered, sealing her eyes and slightly moving her forehead against his.

If he hadn’t been so close to her face, he wouldn’t have heard the sleep slurred mumble that passed her lips. Draco shifted, so she was now resting in his arms, her head fallen on his shoulder. She looked tipsy with exhaustion, her body completely limp against his. Not even a flinch.

Not that he minded. She was light as a feather, her weight almost insignificant to him. Which made him wonder… Has she ate anything consistent recently? Probably not. He was always locked up in her room, doing Merlin knows what for those fucktards she kept around. And he didn’t like that. Not one bit. She paled a lot recently, dark bags appeared under her eyes and her presence became ghostly, faded. Although her eyes seemed to hold the same fire of determination as always. Haven’t Potter or Weasley acknowledged what was happening to her?

No, of course not.

Those morons she called friends were utterly oblivious to her exhaustion and concern, which were eating her alive. A little bit more help required from Potter and she’ll be out of it in no time.

The simple thought made him bare his teeth.

The sleep slurred mumble which tumbled from her lips caught his attention and snapped him out of his deep debates. He stretched his neck a little bit to have a better look at her sleeping form. His eyes wandered over her face, chest, arms, torso, legs, analysing every patch of skin which came into his view, desperately looking for a single flaw on her seemingly perfect body. But it was meaningless. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find one thing to despise about her. Whether he searched her body, or roamed through her mind. She certainly was a person. A person with deep feelings, thoughts and emotions. His eyes remained fixed on her delicate face. Her skin shone with an unreal glow in the pale, cold light of the moon rays which sliced the glass of his window. The shadows of a few tiny freckles were scattered across the bridge of her nose. Her Y/E/C flames were hidden behind her lids and long eyelashes, her Y/H/C mess of curls cascading down her face and shoulders, covering her cheeks. Following the tip of one curl, his gaze naturally fell onto her petal tinted lips. All of her was beautiful, all of her was pure. He almost felt the urge to lift the corners of his lips.

Almost.

But he knew that all pure, innocent things in life died, withered as soon as times of turbulence came. His heart clenched painfully with deep worry for the unconscious girl in his arms.

She tries to see the good in everyone. Even in me.

Whether that was her strongest quality, or her fatal flaw, he couldn’t decide.

He slowly lowered himself back onto the bed, placing themselves between the sheets which were certainly going to smell like her in the morning.

Fuck…

Draco continued to stare at her. He was afraid that if he’d move, she was going to blend with the air and he’d open his eyes, drenched in a cold sweat and surrounded only by his ragged breaths, to find out it was only a dream. He wanted it to be real. It was real.

Wasn’t it?

Shit, she was fucking with his brain even when she was sleeping.

A sudden twitch of her body made him freeze. He regarded her with wide eyes, as she reached for him and buried her face into his shoulder. He slowly focused his eyes onto her face.

“Draco…”

The murmur of his name tingled the frosty skin of his neck and sent a shiver down his spine. He closed his eyes and hold his breath. For a moment, he was afraid the wild beats of his heart were going to wake her up. Slowly releasing the compressed air from his lungs, he stole one last glance at her. Lying like that next to him, she remembered him painfully much of a swan. He used to love the birds. Now it seemed he loved swans with alluring voices and Y/E/C orbs too.

Sweet Salzar, he was fucked.

Deciding to step over his pride, he swallowed back the contradictory thoughts which threatened to burst out of his chest and head, gently snaking his arm around her middle and resting his palm onto her back, rubbing absent patterns against her skin and bringing her body closer to his, suddenly carving her body warmth. Letting his head rest lightly on top of hers, his lids slowly fluttered shut.

That night, he became another person…

Even though he knew. All of this was going to change upcoming morning. Because this was only temporary.

The calm between storms.

I swear, I almost cried when I read this part of the manga. Iruka does not get nearly enough appreciation. Without him, Naruto not only would have died but could have easily gone down a completely different path and been swallowed up by hatefulness. He truly cared for and accepted Naruto, even knowing that Karuma was responsible for killing his parents. He saw Naruto as a person, not a container. Let’s all just take a minute to remember all that he did for Naruto…because Naruto sure remembers. 

Rusty Back to the Future - Dean x reader

(Vacancy open for a name giver, because I suck)

Imagine: Dean doesn’t want to admit his age, therefore, he and (Y/N) travel back to the 80s where Dean meets with himself.

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam (small cameo), Castiel (small cameo), John (mentioned), Little Dean, Baby Sam, Bobby (mentioned).

Warnings: A bit of angst, mentions of blood and open wounds.

A/N: After watching Dean struggling to jump the fence, and playing on repeat Little Me by Little Mix, I got this idea. I’m happy with how it turned out, although I almost cried writing some parts of it. Either way, I hope you enjoy it.

Originally posted by weallneedcastiel

The sirens from the police’s cars where filling the air. The three hunters were surrounded, with only one way out – said way out required jumping a fence.

Sam went first. He basically flew to the other side, no stuttering and no failed landings.

Next it was (Y/N). She climbed the fence and jumped to the other side, stumbling a little when she touched the ground but managing to stay on her feet.

Lastly, Dean. It wasn’t the first time he was jumping a fence, that’s for sure, but it also wasn’t the first time that he struggled to.

Yes, in the past he had been an expert; he could jump any fence, escape from any situation without a problem and even sneaking into hot girl’s houses for that matter. But now, after many years of not worrying about his health, his age was beginning to be a problem.

Sam had always told him so, (Y/N) too. Dean didn’t exercise except when he trained body combat with Sam, and the only healthy food he would eat were the vegetables on his burgers. He would stay hydrated only with alcoholic drink and God helped the person that suggested him to visit the doctor or take vitamins, because Dean would begin a rant (if not a fight) trying to defend his non-existing youth.

“Hurry!” Sam urged his brother, taking notice of the police’s flashlights – searching for them.

“I’m trying, Sam!” Dean roared as he finally reached the highest point in the fence.

“Jump!” (Y/N) shouted. The officers had finally seen them.

Dean jumped like he had done in the past, falling on his knees when landing. However, he didn’t have any time to complain because, before he could even groan, Sam had already got him up and dragged him into the dark and to the Impala.

Obviously, Dean asked Sam to drive.

The older Winchester was lying on the backseat of his beloved car as the huntress, who was sitting beside him, looked on her purse for any pain-killer that Dean could take. Meanwhile, Sam managed to blend in on the usual traffic from that crowded highway Dean hated so much.

“Got anything?” Dean asked with a raspy voice. He had his legs over (Y/N)’s lap, and through his jeans fabric he could see blood.

“Unless you got menstrual pain, no.” She replied, closing her bag.

“Sweetheart,” Dean called, “I’m sure this hurt like menstrual pain.”

The huntress laughed and gave him one of her pills. Dean swallowed it without thinking twice and then proceeded to look for the emergency kit he always kept in the car. He found it under the seat.

“Need any help?” (Y/N) asked, noticing how Dean was struggling to reach the kit.

“No.” He simply said; his fingertips were almost touching the box.

After ten minutes of struggling, Dean managed to reach the box (although it had been Sam stepping to fast on the brakes, causing the kit to move closer to Dean) and handed it to the huntress.

“I can’t fold your jeans far enough… I’m going to need to cut them…”

“No!” Dean cried. The huntress and Sam rolled their eyes.

“Then you’ll have to take your pants off!” She roared.

“Sweetheart, if what you want is to see me naked, you only need to ask.” Dean winked.

“Aren’t you too old for those pick-up lines?” Sam joked from the driver’s seat.

“HOW DARE YOU?” Dean shouted. Yup, he was getting defensive.

What followed is simple: Dean giving useless arguments to Sam about why he’s not old, and his perfect shape and how stupid it is to exercise when they literally run after monsters every week. As always, he stood up for his true love: fast food and alcohol.

“Dean…” Sam called once more.

“No Dean, I’m in perfect shape. The fall was just because this goddamn flannel got stuck with one of the wires of the fence. I’m not old!” Dean insisted.

“Shut up, Sam.” (Y/N) shouted seconds after Sam opened his mouth to argue. “I’m sick of you two fighting.”

“Ha!” Dean mocked his brother.

“And I’m ALSO sick of you not accepting your age!” She continued, giving Dean a glare.

“My age? There’s nothing wrong with it and…”

“And you’re no longer a twenty year old that can binge on alcohol and pull off all-nighters every night!” She cried, “You need to take care, for God’s sake!”

Dean didn’t argue anymore, he just crossed his arms and looked away.

It wasn’t his fault; I mean, who would want to grow up after twenty? Dean was on his right to be mad, or at least that’s what he thought.

He wanted to be young again. He hadn’t had a proper childhood, his teenage days sucked and his twenties had been the best out of the worst in his life: free from stupid school, having any girl he wanted, being able to do what he wanted with his body without any consequences… It was heaven on Earth.

The road trip was silent. Dean didn’t let (Y/N) cure his wounds – he was far too upset with her.

(Y/N) limited herself to caress Dean’s thigh, not quite conscious about it. Eventually, she and Dean fell asleep and didn’t move until they reached the bunker.

As obvious as it sounds, Dean didn’t let anyone take him to his room. Hell, he didn’t even let Sam help him out of the car or down the stairs. He literally swallowed his tears until he was locked inside his four-walled cave.

The blood was dry and his jeans were glued to his wound because of that. It was hard and painful to remove them and (Y/N)’s pill had only worked for a while and now he needed another one – but he was too proud to go on and ask her for more.

Once he had his pants out and a bunch of alcohol and some strange red liquid Sam had bought for these cases, Dean was able to sit down at his bed, beer in hand, and think about the past conversations.

Sam and (Y/N) where right, he was getting old. Even when he didn’t want to admit it, blame it on the pre-forty’s crisis, he had to do something. He stood up, with all the pain possible at that point, and searched between his books.

“Hey, Dorian.” Dean mumbled to himself as he took the slim book from one of the boxes on his closet.

Yes, Dean wasn’t the best thinker when it came to desperate measures. He had “The Portrait of Dorian Gray” in hand and a terrible idea in mind.

“Really?” A voice spoke. Dean looked up and to the door where (Y/N)’s small figure was staring at him.

“I thought we agreed on knocking the door first.” Dean chuckled.

“I did, but you were far too interested in Mr. Gray to notice.” She replied.

“I uh… I was just looking for a light reading…” Dean excused himself. (Y/N) didn’t buy it, she crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her eyebrow.

“A light reading about a man obsessed with his youth, enough to make a deal to stay young while his painting ages… Nice.” (Y/N) spoke.

“Fine,” Dean sighed, “you got me… I just… I don’t want to be old.”

“I know, Dean.” She whispered walking closely to Dean.

“I have wrinkles all over my face and white hairs starting to grow… I can’t run, nor jump small fences like I used to and…” Dean couldn’t finish his sentence, it hurt him to even think of the life he didn’t get, of losing time as fast as he had.

“If it works… You look hotter with wrinkles and the white hairs you talk about are barely noticeable.” (Y/N) comforted Dean, sitting beside him on the floor.

“Yeah? And what else? Those are the only good things about ageing…” Dean grumbled sadly.

“Well, your voice got deeper.” (Y/N) observed, remembering how high Dean’s used to be compared to his voice now.

“I just want to get a few years back… There is so much I didn’t do because I figured I had enough time to do it later…” Dean sighed; his eyes were watery with thoughts.

“I think we can manage that.” (Y/N) spoke.

-

“Don’t you love the 80s?” Asked Dean as he breathed in deeply.

“Not particularly.” (Y/N) replied, hating the clothing she had to wear to fit in.

They walked over the sidewalk Dean barely remembered, heading over to the school where a five year old Dean waited for his dad to pick him up. Dean knew that John wasn’t going to be there on time, remembering how he ended up walking back to the motel at 7 pm.

Dean was looking happy, though, which made (Y/N) happy. That until a kid punched Dean with a football and apologised to him with a “sorry, sir.”

“This is crap, we shouldn’t have come.” Dean complained afterwards.

“Dean, please.” (Y/N) begged.

“No, (Y/N)! This is bullshit! I asked a few years back for myself but not too literally travel in time and…” Dean was interrupted by someone pulling from his jacket.

A blond, green-eyed boy was staring up at him. He was wearing a flannel that was too big for him and his shoes where a little torn apart. He had sad eyes and yet he was smiling at the hunter.

“Hi.” He said.

“Hey.” Dean replied, feeling awkward around himself.

“I like your jacket.” The kid compliment, having a closer look at it.

“Thanks, it belonged to ou… my dad.” Dean explained, turning completely to be face to face with himself.

“My dad has one exactly like this one,” Little Dean observed, “except my dad’s is newer…”

“Cool.” Dean said, not knowing how to reply without spilling out the truth. (Y/N) giggled at the exchange, calling the attention of both Deans.

“Woah, is she your girlfriend?” Little Dean asked Older Dean in a whisper.

“No…” Dean answered.

“Is she your sister? Or at least a familiar?” Little Dean continued whispering.

“No, she’s my friend.” Dean explained using his children-voice.

“Are you dumb?” Little Dean asked sassily.

“Er… uh.. What?” Dean furrowed. He didn’t remember being a little bitch.

“I asked you if you’re dumb?” Little Dean repeated.

“I’m not.” Older Dean responded angrily.

“Yes you are, otherwise you’d already be dating her.” Dean’s eyes widened at his own words. He, in fact, had had a good taste in women since he was a child.

“I will ask her out, just not yet.” Dean mumbled, but the kid was far to hypnotised by (Y/N) who was trying to fix her hot pink skirt.

“Do you mind if I talk to her?” Little Dean asked without taking his eyes off of (Y/N).

“Go on,” Dean encouraged himself, “You’ll talk to her anyways.”

Thankfully, Little Dean didn’t hear the last part. He was already in front of (Y/N) complimenting her skirt and hair.

“So what’s your name, sugar plum?” The kid flirted.

“I’m (Y/N)” the huntress replied with a laugh.

“I’m Dean Winchester, pleasure to meet you.” Little Dean took the girl’s hand, pressing a soft kiss on it

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean fumed, “hands off her.”

“She’s not your girlfriend.” Little Dean frowned, looking at the old man.

“And she’s not your girlfriend either.” Dean responded.

Sometimes, Dean would forget his age and act like a total kid. In this case, he was arguing with a kid while behaving like a kid, which was far too fun for (Y/N) to ever forget it.

“Hey, Dean.” (Y/N) spoke, interrupting the Deans’ discussion.

“Yes?” Both of them asked in unison, followed by a death glare to each other.

“I mean, Little Dean.” (Y/N) corrected herself but wasn’t able to finish her sentence because Little Dean was far too excited for having found someone with his same name.

“What’s your last name, Dean?” The kid asked with wide eyes, “Maybe we have the same one and we could be like twins from different times and…” Little Dean proceeded to create a whole conspiracy theory about aliens and time travel.

“Winchester.” Dean answered, interrupting the kid.

“I KNEW IT!” Both Deans high fived and then decided to sit down back at the bench where Little Dean had been waiting for John.

“What do you work at?” Little Dean asked.

“I’m a hunter.” Dean replied honestly.

“My dad’s a hunter too! Maybe you know him, his name is John.” The kid smiled.

“I do know him, he’s…” Dean couldn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to because Little Dean understood perfectly.

“I know…” The awkward silence was soon filled by happier topics such as: Led Zeppelin, apple pie, hot girls, and monsters.

(Y/N) sat down quietly; listening to both Dean’s exchanging the same points of view and thoughts about the simple things in life as well as the most complicated ones.

“How old are you?” Little Dean asked. Older Dean swallowed uncomfortably, not wanting to talk about that.

“I’m uh… I’m thirty-seven.” Dean answered, unable to lie to himself.

“THIRTY-SEVEN?” Little Dean’s green eyes widened.

“Yes, I know… I’m o…”

“AWESOME!” Little Dean finished his own sentence, “My father says no hunter lives that long… You must be invincible!”

“I’ve died a few times…” Dean mumbled, trying to act humble but failing.

“You’ve died? AND YOU’RE BACK?” Little Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It sounded like something out of a sci-fi film.

“Yes… Been to Heaven, Hell and even Purgatory.” Dean smiled proudly.

Little Dean was now standing on the bench. He couldn’t be sitting down with the stories Dean was telling him about the three after-life places he had been to.

“You are awesome, Dean!” Little Dean finally spoke, throwing his arms around Older Dean. “When I grow old, I want to be like you.”

A tear left Dean’s eye. Not only because he was his own hero, but because of the many feelings he had touched that night as well as the pain it caused him to think that Castiel would eventually erase Dean from his own memory in order to keep things in place.

“I uh… Do you want an ice cream, or something?” Dean asked, wanting to make that day as happy as possible for himself.

“I can’t, I’m waiting for my dad.” Little Dean replied.

“I talked to him and… He’s not coming, something got on the way.” (Y/N) immediately interfered, taking advantage of her silence during the whole conversation.

“Typical…” Little Dean whispered.

“So, ice cream?” Older Dean offered sadly.

Dean made sure to give Little Dean the best afternoon he could, knowing that the next months would be a pain in the ass until John met Bobby; and even so, Dean knew all about his own suffering.

They had ice cream, and Dean answered to every question Little Dean had and eventually took him back to the motel.

Dean took his time to check on Baby Sam. He was so small, so fragile; he barely remembered it now because it had been too long. But having his baby brother back in his arms was bringing many lost memories back to his mind.

“Who would’ve thought that a flea like you would end up being a giant moose?” Dean joked. The one year old baby did nothing but laugh at the stranger’s words.

“How do you know that?” Little Dean asked. He had been standing behind Dean, and he had heard everything.

“I uh… Where’s (Y/N)?” Dean asked, putting baby Sam down at his improvised crib.

“She’s praying to some Cassiel.” Little Dean answered.

“Castiel.” Dean corrected. He was hopeful that Little Dean would forget his words to Sammy, but he had always been a stubborn pain in the ass.

“How do you know Sam is going to turn into a moose?” Dean chuckled.

“Not a literal moose… He’s just going to grow up really tall.” Dean explained.

“As tall as a moose.” Little Dean inquired.

“Exactly,” Dean smiled, “Sammy will be taller than us one day.”

“How do you know?” Little Dean asked again.

Before Dean could answer, the sight of (Y/N) and Cas behind Little Dean took his thoughts away.

“It’s fine, Dean.” Cas spoke in his usual low voice, “You won’t remember.”

Little Dean was confused. A man had appeared in the room without him noticing and now the Old Dean was telling him about how he was himself but from the future.

“So we get to time travel?” Little Dean asked with widened eyes.

“Yes.” Dean answered, “We’re like Marty McFly.”

“Who?”

“Wait ‘till next year, next?” Little Dean shook the strange reference and continued his interrogation.

“So we have angel friends?”

“Yes.”

“And we get to live for longer than normal hunters?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me, do we have a cool car? Like a flying car?” Dean chuckled at his own question.

“There’s still not flying cars in the future but uh… We get to keep the Impala.”

“AWESOME!”

Again, Little Dean bombarded Older Dean with questions. Except this time they were more specific.

After almost an hour of talking, the time to go came. Dean knew John would be back at any minute, and Cas still had to erase his own memory.

“I have to go, buddy.” Dean spoke softly.

“I don’t want you to go… Take me and Sam with you!” He begged.

“I can’t…” Dean let out a small tear.

“Why? We can be hunting partners and you can teach me how to drive and…”

“I can’t alter the future, buddy.” Dean explained, interrupting Little Dean’s illusions.

“So… But you already told me everything; you’ve altered the future already!” Little Dean cried.

“About that… We have to… Men in Black you.” Dean struggled to say.

“Men in Black me? What does that mean?” Little Dean asked angrily.

“You’re too young… In the future there’s a movie… Doesn’t matter, you’ll see it like thirty times.” Both Deans chuckled.

“I will remember it then, and when I see it I’ll know.” Little Dean stated proudly.

“I’m afraid not.” Dean whispered.

“You… You’re deleting my memory.” Little Dean mumbled after a few seconds of processing his own words. Dean only nodded, not being able to say it directly. “Please don’t, I want to remember you!”

“I’m sorry.” Little Dean hugged Older Dean once more. Both Deans cried in each other’s embrace, both for the same reason, yet a different point of view.

Saying goodbye to himself was harder than he expected. Little Dean used to be a real cuddle bear, a quality that Dean had lost over the years.

(Y/N) and Dean were walking out of the motel room when Little Dean called for them from the door. He was supposed to be inside, letting Cas clean his memory.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“Before I forget you… There’s something I need to do.” Little Dean explained, winking at the older version of himself.

“Go on.” Dean encouraged, not quite sure what he was going to do.

“(Y/N)” Little Dean called her.

“Yes?” She asked. The huntress had the same puzzled look on her face as Older Dean.

“Would you be my girlfriend?” Little Dean asked with the flirtiest tone ever. (Y/N) laughed and blushed fifty shades of red before answering with a “Sure!”

Little Dean high fived it with Older Dean mouthing a “you’re welcome” and going back into the room, closing the door behind him.

“You were a lovely kid.” (Y/N) observed a big smile on her face.

“I know… I almost hate myself for letting Cas wash my brain.” Dean replied.

“It was under your own consent, Dean.” (Y/N) reminded him. In fact, Little Dean had allowed Cas to do it.

“Speaking of consent…” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. (Y/N) knew too well what he meant.

“Seriously? You always find the worst situations to flirt with me.” She laughed.

“Well, you’re technically my girlfriend now,” Dean chanted, “you’ve been my girlfriend since 1984 which is far too many years to catch up on to.”

(Y/N) let out a breathy laugh as she shook her head.

“Guess I can’t help falling for the Dean Winchester charm, can I?” She joked, looking up at Dean.

“You can’t… I’m afraid you’ll have to live up with it.” Dean responded.

“Well then, let’s go back to our time to catch up on the thirty two years of dating we missed!”

-

“Since when are you two together?” Sam asked after catching his brother and (Y/N) making out in the kitchen.

“Since I was five.” Dean replied.

Sam, who was unaware of the whole time-travel thing, started to formulate a question but got interrupted by the huntress.

“Don’t ask, just roll with it.” She said.

“Okay.” And with that, Sam left the kitchen. He was certain that the story behind that was amusing, but he knew his brother and was far too scared to ask. Therefore, he just kept the questions for himself.

SO. I saw Hamilton in Chicago on Saturday and finally have a chance to post about it!!! I was lucky enough to see the original cast in March so I’ll comment on the things that are different!!

-Miguel Cervantes is charming as Ham and his voice is beautiful! He is also very short and Washington is VERY tall and it’s funny

-Ari Asfar is lovely and has the smoothest voice and she is a perfect Eliza

-Karen Olivo slays as Angelica, as expected

-I could talk for hours about Joshua Henry. Seriously, he was hands down my favorite part of the show. He gives Leslie a run for his money and plays the role as if he has been playing it for years. I almost cried during Wait For It and his riffs are soooo goood

-The rest of the cast is really great as well! The show feels very raw and emotional with less polish but lots of passion. They are all precious:)

-I cried when Philip died, and I don’t cry often. It was Ari’s sob that got me. Pippa kinda scream/cried, but Ari’s sob was too real and it knocked me out

-I don’t recall them doing this in the NYC show, but during the Adams Administration, King George pops up from his stool and interrupts to shout “The Adams Administration!!” It was hysterical

-The cast comes out really quickly to the stage door, so make sure to head out soon! We met almost all the main cast except for Peggy and King George I think and got a poster signed! It’s so worth it to buy the poster, they are all happy to sign and take selfies!! I brought a selfie stick like a dork but they all complimented it and thought it was cool haha

-We had ‘obstructed view’ seats, which means there was a pole blocking a small part of the stage and we couldn’t see all of the upper part of the stage, but the tickets were much more affordable and worth it!

you did (pt.4/end)

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: angst, bestfriend!AU, (fuckboy!AUish), FLUFF

part: 4/4 (part: 1 | 2 | 3)

word count: 2.3k

summary: You and Jung Hoseok has been friends for almost half of your lives. And you let him control you in so many ways.

a/n: finally it ended! a little bit of fluff in this one of course. thank you for reading! and i’m very sorry I posted this one late

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

At this point, you might actually go insane. Your feelings were all around the place, your thoughts were all mixed up, and your heart beat went nuts.

The truth that you found out was something that you couldn’t say as ‘good news’, because it never will be.

He loves you, you love him, yet why does it feels so wrong?

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What I love about Doumeki and Yashiro is they never cease to surprise me. I love how they are trying to be honest with each other. 1. Facing each other as he entered him for the first time. 2. Yashiro conflicted about the whole thing but he still pulled Doumeki down for a kiss. Also, did you notice how peaceful Yashiro looked the moment Doumeki entered him? I almost cried when I saw his face! Their relationship is one of the most beautiful thing I've ever had the pleasure to witness.

I’m so glad I found tumblr! In the beginning I thought I was part of a select few of people who was in love with yoneda kou! Especially her series saezuru tori wa hanatakanai! But to see that are a whole bunch of people who love it just as much as I do make me feel so happy

Happy anons make me happy! Saezuru brings thirsty people closer together, it’s wonderful!

Yashiro/Doumeki and how they connected over the last few chapters has brought me so much joy. Facing each other during sex? YES, we have all been waiting for that. Yashiro even clung to Doumeki! Them kissing? YES! we got all kinds of kissing, even kissing initiated by Yashiro! I agree, nonny, their relationship is just so damn beautiful.