i clearly did not think this one through

DM (me): The wolf leaps at Bryn (the party’s paladin)

I roll for the wolf’s attack… and get a one. I gasp and the party get’s this look of dread, likely thinking I crit.

After a brief pause I continue:

DM: The wolf sails through the air towards Bryn… *I let the suspense hang in the air* and face-plants against the tree behind her.

Paladin: Did you roll a one??!

DM: I absolutely rolled a one!

I can’t even begin to explain how satisfied I am with 4:47 “explanation”. Seriously.

IDK how Hart wanted to explain, but I’m 100% okay with this one. 

It has a meaning, a real and powerful meaning. Brennan already taught us that there’s no unique event in this universe. So, 4:47 being every turning page in Booth and Brennan’s lives, just speaks to my heart in so many ways.

4x26 - Brennan almost lost Booth. He survived. He had that dream, of the life she wrote in an alternative universe for them. Everything almost ended, but he survived and that beautiful shared dream opened all the doors they were trying to close about what they feel for each other.

5x22 - They literally went away. Were separated. He could have not come back She could have not come back. Something had to change, according to Booth. But, as beautifully well the episode title says, there’s a beginning in the end. Everything almost ended for them. But it was that “almost” that brought them back. It could have ended. But it didn’t. And as much as it hurt for everyone, was the step they needed to take to both understand what they had.

6x22 - Vincent was shot instead of Booth. Booth could have given that phone to Brennan. Booth could have been the one picking up that phone. And it’d be the end for them as we know them. It could have been the end when they gave that step into their relationship - because they couldn’t have erased it if things didn’t work out. In every single aspect, everything almost ended for them. But it’s all about that step, that climb - but what if it doesn’t? What if this is just the beginning of something beautiful, like it was?

7x07 - I can’t think of anything that changed more those two forever than the birth of their own daughter. There’s no bigger turning page for them. Having a baby? That changes you forever. And as Angela beautifully told in S5, you’re bound to that person forever because you have a human life in common. So yeah. It was the end in a way. B&B are forever partners in everything but in that moment they were SO MUCH MORE than that. they had their miracle.

7x13 and 9x01  - Well I’m putting these two together because we always interpreted it as Pelant’s being a little shit again and trying to harm our babies. (probably their idea back then not even going to deny) but looking now with the meaning they gave us? Brennan ran away with Christine from Booth. She did to him what her parents did to her. She let him baptize her, and disappeared with her. For 3 months, EVERYTHING changed. Everything could have ended. Booth lost them both. Brennan was living with that weight, knowing how much it hurt, but also trying to do the right, rational thing. They were never the same. He had to deal of losing part of his daughter growing up, of being left “out” of her plan, even though he doesn’t condone it - he knows it was necessary. And she had to deal with the fact that even being the same strong, independent human being that she always was, she is in fact bound to her partner and her daughter, in ways she didn’t expected it. Things could have not work out like they did - they do because it’s them. It’s always Booth and Brennan and their love will always be enough to survive anything life throws it - another case of almost being the end, but it wasn’t. 9x01 is in the same line of thought. Things could have ended so differently. It was Brennan’s faith in Booth, in what he always did for her, her love and trust in him. They were thrown such a big burden - FUCK YOU PELANT I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU - that made them question everything around both of them and inside themselves Yet, they pulled through. It didn’t end. Again.

(about 11x15, 7x13 and 11x01 you see the number but it’s not a moment nor an hour. It’s just there so yeah skipping those. Also. it’s just a number. Pffff do you think someone loses 30minutes in writing about 447? NOT ME. clearly. )

12x12 - I don’t think I even need to discuss this one. He almost lost her. She almost lost the thing that, in her mind, made her who she is. Both of them almost died, and they would leave their kids. their life. 30, 40, 50 years of years left full of things waiting for them. Everything almost ended, but it didn’t. And it doesn’t make them weaker, or more damaged. Makes them… Them. Booth and Brennan. As always, since the day 1, fighting for what’s right in the world, loving just a little bit too much in so many different ways, yet so similar in the end.

It almost ended. But it didn’t. And they’re rising again like they’re a phoenix. Not giving up on everything that united them on the first place. Fighting for the same things, working for the same ends, with the love and dedication they always have. Following their hearts.

This was B&B last 12 years. Pushing forward, loving, for all the reasons that really mattered, even when’s scary and you have so much to lose.

It almost ended. But it didn’t, not in even one time that 4:47 appeared. It’s scary sometimes because you have things to lose. But when you’re fighting for what’s right, for what/who you love, it’s worth it to push forward. It’s worth it to give that step. And sometimes, it’s good to remind yourself of that, of those moments where you could have lost. To never forget why it’s worth it. 

What makes life worthwhile. 

Bless this show.

GREY AREA. (M) | 02

And just like that, your fate was sealed - because Min Yoongi was absolutely going to destroy you. But hell, if you weren’t going to let him, or bask happily in the flames as he did so.

And sadly, at the time, you didn’t think that your thoughts would become so literal.


“You said my heart holds all the wreckage and still manages to grow a forest out of it.” -The Forest / Kriti. G

›› Pairing: Min Yoongi / Reader
›› Word Count: 6,805
›› Chapter Index 
›› Soulmate!AU, Slowburn, Angst

Two days later you are sitting at a table located outside a small cafe that you and Yoona often find yourselves at. Whether it be because it’s nearest to the college you both attend, or how cheap their beverages are, you both are always returning to the quaint little building.

You sit with one leg crossed over the other, hair up in a messy pony tail, back pack hanging lazily off of the chair your back is pressed against. Arms strewn across the surface of the table carelessly, and mind not letting you focus on the words spewing from Yoona’s perfectly glossed lips.

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Moments I have witnessed intense KnB fans in Japan

Upon request here’s my post of personal experiences I’ve seen or been in that show how Japanese KnB (mainly Akashi) fans are that you probably won’t see too often back in your home country. 
*If you are one of these fans, I’m not saying stop doing it or you shouldn’t do it, but just be responsible and don’t neglect other priorities and don’t inconvenience others…and be reasonable. Also these are things I’m not used to seeing so for me it’s quite eyebrow-raising. Thanks. 

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anonymous asked:

I am 98% sure I have been hexed or even cursed by this angry loser I've met on a Magick forum who disagreed with my opinions, he was clearly knowledgeable in Magick but certainly seemed like the kind who is quick to curse and became incredibly angry when someone challenged his bias. Anyway to reverse this?

Are you actually going through things that seem like a curse, though? 
If I had a dime for every witch or magician on the internet threatening to curse but not doing a damn thing, I’d be one rich witch. 
It could also be placebo too. If you think he cursed you, you might be creating the scenario. 

Now, what if he actually did? Well first of all, congrats, you found one of the magical people who hold through with their threats. 
It’s usually simple enough to reverse it on whomever cast it. 
Find a taper candle, preferably used. 
Anoint it with a bit of your spit. 
Prick it and say the name (or username) of whomever cast it. 
Light the bottom of the candle, not the top. Flip it upside down and let it burn.
“You gave unto me the magic bane, 
 and I send unto you the cursed flame.
 Every ill power, spirit, spell, or curse, 
 shall be made to return and reverse.” 

anonymous asked:

Hey! This might seem random, but can you write something where you become friends with your ex-boyfriend again. And slowly open up to him and he blows it and you get into a massive fight where he criticises your relationship with Harry, and you're like "well you could have had a family! You could have had me!"

omg i love this sm

“Maybe you should call him back.”

You look over at Harry, who stands in the corner of the living room with a bunch of envelopes in his hand. You frown and tilt your head, sighing, “Is it from Finn again?”

He nods and presses his lips into a thin mmhm, then he starts to carefully peel open an envelope. You turn your attention back to the television because Blair Waldorf’s life was way more interesting than whatever apology Finn had, no matter how elegantly his words seemed to flow on the page. But then Harry has your attention again and you find yourself standing up and walking towards your boyfriend of two years, snatching the envelopes out of his hand.

“What’s so funny?” But you don’t ask so much as state sarcastically and Harry chuckles deeply, shaking his wet curls in your face before pressing a kiss on the side of your neck.

“You should talk to him,” your boyfriend laughs. “Put the poor bloke out of his misery.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you wait until Harry crashes onto the couch to peer down curiously at the newest letter from Finn. Finn was your ex-boyfriend, who you had broken up with you over the phone…and left the country for six months and answered none of your calls and texts. It took you one whole year to heal and then you met Harry, who was so kind and patient and supportive.

It was only after paparazzi’s had leaked pictures of you and Harry that Finn contacted you again. But you did not contact him back. So he kept sending letters and gifts through the mail–for about five months now.

You have never opened one…until now.

The first line made you gag. 

Dear beloved,

You catch sight of Harry staring at you from your peripheral vision.

I don’t know why I keep sending you these letters when you clearly aren’t reading them, but I can’t help thinking that one day you will. So here goes–

I’m still in love with you. It was a mistake letting you go. I’m in town just a few more days until I’m moving to Paris…why? I need a new start, that’s all. And what’s a better place to go than the city of love?

Anyways, I hope you will meet me at the coffee place down at sixth street (the one where we first met). I’ll be there waiting all day, every day, for you.

I hope to see you.


“You should go,” Harry tells you as soon as you climb onto the sofa and snuggle up by his side.

“Why should I?” You counter, although you gripped the letter in your hand tightly. No matter what he did, his words still fell through to you. After all, he was your first love. “I have you and that’s all that matters.”

Harry kisses your shoulder and murmurs, “I know. That’s why I feel very secure about you going to meet up with him and not go crawling back to him.” You roll your eyes playfully and he continues, “Plus, he’s moving away. What harm is there to meet him one last time.”

You frown, scrunching your nose up. Harry plants one last kiss on your cheek before announcing, “I’m gonna go make a cup of tea.” But before he can exit the room, he jokes, “And who knows? Maybe he won’t even be there.”

Yeah, you smile. Maybe he might’ve already moved away.


He’s still here.

And he’s looking right at you through the coffee shop window, all your plans of running away vanishing.

“Y/N.” He breathes your name like it will grant him his greatest desire. Your heart is pounding so hard you’re scared it might fall out of your chest. You take the seat across from him, and you see he has already ordered your favourite cup of coffee–with no prior knowledge if you were coming.

The small gesture touched your heart.

Maybe Harry was right. It was good to have some closure.

“How are you?” You ask, and then immediately regret it. 

But he laughs, and you’re stunned for a second. You could never recall the sound of his laughter, but here he was, laughing in front of you. Like he never hurt you. Like you never hurt him.

Laughing, like lovers do.

“Better,” he answers after a beat. “Now that you’re here,” he clarifies.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat and sip your coffee to avoid making eye contact. You could sense his gaze on you like a pile of rocks barreling down a cliff. God, why am I here?

“How are you?” He counters, the skin beside his eyes crinkling as he forces his lips up into a smile.

“Good,” you blurt out quickly. You were trying to think of the most casual word you could throw out there without Finn wincing, but he did all the same.

He clears his throat, and if it wasn’t awkward before, it sure was awkward now. “You and Harry?” He says, but it’s more like a question. As if he’s asking why him? 

“Mmhm,” you continue to sip your coffee like nothing was wrong.

But Finn is not satisfied with your answer, or more specifically, lack of. “Does that pop star make you happy?” He asks, raising his voice a little louder, making you glance around the cafe. Luckily everyone was sucked into the morning crowd and didn’t notice the scene that was about to happen.

“He does make me happy,” you answer him truthfully. You pause, then add, “Please don’t be upset.”

Finn scoffs, “Upset? Why would I be upset? All I want is for you to be happy.” His hand slithers across the table until it’s firmly placed on top of yours. “All I want is for you to be happy.” He says those words slowly, as if trying to lure you back towards his heart.

But with one clean swipe you pull your hand from under his and say, “I am happy. With Harry. So–”

“Oh, cut this bullshit!” Finn throws his hands up in the air and his coffee mug is knocked onto the floor, where it shatters into a hundred pieces. You press your eyes shut, and the whole cafe is silent. “You’re not happy with him!”

Yes I am, Finn,” you spit out the words and he rises slowly out of his chair. You do the same. You are not going to be overpowered by him. Not anymore. “He’s my family.”

“No, his fans are his family!” Finn exclaims, and if it weren’t for the table between you two and the massive crowd of people staring, you think he might’ve started choking you. “His fans and his band members are his family! He doesn’t need you! I need you! I have no one!” 

“WELL, THAT’S YOUR OWN DOING, ISN’T IT?” You scream, tears running down your cheeks. You can feel yourself starting to shake. “That’s your own damn fault because you could’ve had a family. You could’ve had me.”

“Maybe…I still could?” Finn looks up at you with those baby blue eyes. And if he was standing in front of you six months ago, you might’ve fell for them.

But you fell for Harry instead.

“Go have a nice life, Finn,” you say as you bend down and retrieve your things. “And if you try to contact me again I’ll have a restraining order filed against you.”

The Cat Lady

I used to have three beautiful cats. Chloe, Jewel, and Mercy. My sweet girls. I had the perfect family. A husband Greg, my son Dylan, and of course the cats. Jewel was the snitch. Always pacing around the table, warbling for whatever we had. She had developed a taste for green beans. Mercy was the prim lady. Always cleaning herself. Always sitting on the bookshelves. And always found where I hid the cat treats.

Jewel was my favorite though. Whenever my lap was available, she was sitting there. At night she’d sleep at the foot of the bed. In the morning, she’d wake me by kneading my chest. Greg would laugh and say she was just making sure my heart hadn’t stopped. Her version of kitty CPR.

Greg and I were considering getting just one more when the accident happened. Greg was on the way to the clinic with the cats to update their vaccinations, and… well, I’m almost thankful that my babies didn’t suffer.

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: Trimberly fluff with Tommy

A/N: I wrote Tommy as a girl, and I most definitely pictured her as Zendaya…

“Z to T, do you copy?”

“T is present. You there, B?”

“Yup.” Billy chirps. “Any sightings of our targets?”

“Negative. But I’ve got the south side covered and guarded.”

“Same on the west, target hasn’t moved since we set up base.”

“Interesting. Okay, troops, move in closer.”

Trini draws her walkie-talkie away from her mouth and dramatically rolls onto her stomach. As soon as she is comfortable, she begins to move quickly across the grass with a glare; her walkie-talkie is clutched close and she has two pink lines drawn under her bright eyes, she is ready for war.

In her spacious backyard, Trini’s family is crammed around the pool with a full party going on around them. In a moment of boredom, Trini had pulled Zack and Billy into one of her schemes. Trini scrambles to hide herself behind a bush as she presses a protective hand to the water gun tucked into her bikini bottoms while she keeps a close eye on the loungers nearby.

“Any movement?”

Zack’s voice scratches through the speaker as she leans further into the bush, “We have slight movement. Target two has switched positions, he has a clear view of us if he opens his eyes.”

“Jason is target two, right?” Billy demands.

Trini smiles and rolls her eyes, “Yeah, B.”

“I don’t think he’d do anything,” Zack muses as he ignores their side conversation. “I think the only target we need to keep an eye on is one. Kimberly won’t hesitate to attack if she feels threatened.”

“That’s because my girlfriend is insane.” Trini grumbles and her walkie-talkie booms with laughter from Zack. “I think we should go for a frontal attack, I don’t think they’ll see that coming.”

“No, bad idea. We can’t. We should go in from the sides. If things go bad then we can just separate, it’s impossible for them to catch all three of us.” Billy mumbles as he appears at Trini’s side.

“B is right. I’ll go in from the left.” Zack offers as he pops on the opposite side of Trini, and three gazes dart over the bush.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Billy frowns.

“It’s an amazing idea.” Trini snorts, and Zack eagerly bobs his head in agreement as the three bump their fists together. “You two sure you’re ready for this?”

Zack smirks, “Couldn’t be more ready if I tried.”

As the three drops their fists, they trade quick glances and smiles before they pop out from behind the bush with a loud battle cry. As they run, wide eyes track their movements and watch in amazement as Zack clears a chair while Trini springs easily towards the corner lounge chairs.

The three hover their friends and pump their water guns causing yells of surprise to fill the air. Jason is the first to recover from shock as he rolls off the lounger before he springs forward to wrap his arms around Billy’s body, the boy yells in surprise as his gun clatters to the ground.

“What the hell, dude?” Jason demands as he tightens his grasp on Billy while his friend desperately tries to free himself. “Billy, would you stop moving?”

Tommy gasps as Zack continues to spray her and she is quick to fumble from her chair with a hand held up in a weak defense. After a few moments, she makes it to Zack only for him to deflect her reaching hands as he aims his spray of water towards her face.

“Zack, stop!” Tommy orders as she tackles him into the pool.

Just a few feet away, Trini gives a breathless giggle as her water gun finally empties and she is left to stare at her girlfriend who is sputtering on the chair with hair plastered to her face. Trini bends over with her hands on her knees as she laughs while Kimberly sweeps her hands over her face to clear away the water.

“What the hell, Trini?” Kimberly growls as she easily sweeps a hand through her hair while her eyes narrow. “Are you seriously laughing? Do you really think this is funny? I’m soaking wet!”

“That’s the point, Kim.” Trini snorts.

“It’s not very fair that you’re standing there all dry and warm.” Kimberly points out as she stands from the lounger and steps towards the younger girl whose go wide while her laughter trails off. “Something wrong?”

Trini swallows hard as she catches sight of the mischievous glint in Kimberly’s eyes and the smirk that pulls at her lips. With a frantic look around, she sputters at the sight of Zack struggling to climb from the pool with Tommy on his back while Jason stands over Billy and douses him with his own water gun.

“Look as if you’re on your own.” Kimberly hums as she continues to her prowl towards Trini who takes a small step back. “I think you might want to start waving a white flag, babe.”

“Ha. Never.” Trini scoffs.

Kimberly glides towards her girlfriend and Trini immediately takes a large step back. She knows she’s screwed, she knows that her plan has royally backfired. Dark orbs jump anxiously around to her family members who watch on with amusement and laughter.

“Well, I think I should probably…” Trini trails off and clears her throat before she juts a thumb over her shoulder. “I think I’m just gonna go ahead and go.”

Trini turns and scurries off with a squeal of fear as she vanishes around the side of the house. Kimberly watches her go with a smile of adoration that turns to a hard laugh as Billy and Zack struggle by her, both boys pushing the other aside in attempt to flee.

“Tell me you have a plan.” Tommy huffs as she drags a hand through her soaked locks. “We cannot let them get away with that.”

Jason arches an eyebrow, “Do we even stand a chance?”

“Probably not. They’re too smart, and they have Billy.” Kimberly sighs before she leans down to scoop up a yellow water gun. “But we do have their water guns which means we’re at an advantage, we can’t let them think this is okay.”

“It’s not like they were starting a war.” Jason chuckles as he shakes his wet locks out and wiggles a finger in his ear. “They were only having fun, Kim.”

“No, we have to get revenge.” Kimberly scoffs as she looks to Jason who simply shrugs in response. “There’s no way I’m letting Trini think she can just throw water at me and not face any consequences.”

“That’ah girl.” Tommy hums. “Let’s do this.”


“We’re dead. Do you realize what we’ve just done? We’re done.” Billy mumbles as he paces the length of the living room with his hands on his hips. “That was such a bad idea, Trini. Why did we do that?”

“Kim is plotting my death, I could see it in her eyes.” Trini sighs as she crosses her arms over chest and nibbles at her lower lip. “Fuck. What are we going to do? I clearly didn’t think this one through.”

“Tommy was so mad that she was slapping me in places that I never even realized could hurt so badly.” Zack huffs as he rubs at his side before he glances anxiously towards the patio doors. “What are we going to do?”

“What is there to do? They have all of our guns, dude.” Trini points out as she tosses her hands up and glances to her defeated friends. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do now. We’re fucked. Unless…”

Trini stands suddenly and darts towards the kitchen, and after a moment Billy and Zack follow. As they turn the corner, both boys have to hold back their laughter as they watch their tiny teammate crawl onto the counter before she begins to rummage through the cabinet before she hisses in happiness and turns to reveal a bag of water balloons.

“What are you three doing now?” Marie demands as she walks into the kitchen in time to see Trini slide off the counter. “Why do you have water balloons, Trinity?”

“You saw the horror show out there, Mami. We don’t have a choice. They have our guns and we need to make sure we can protect ourselves.” Trini declares as she clutches protectively at her balloons.

“Alright, you three,” Marie chuckles as she waves them off. “Have at it.”

The trio once again darts from the space as they hurry to the backyard to plan their next move. Trini is the first to finish filling her balloons and she turns to watch as Zack and Billy struggle to tie their own while they trade laughs and excited chatter.

After a few minutes, the package of balloons is empty and their waiting ammunition is resting at their feet. With nervous glances, the trio scoot towards the tree on the side of the house. The silence is almost unnerving, and Trini can hear her racing heartbeat; she knows Kimberly, there is no way the older girl is going to let her get away with the little water fight she has started.

They can hear the party continue on without them and Zack sighs as he falls back against the tree. Billy is the first to straighten when he hears a twig snap, and the other two follow in example as they look around. Before they can process anything, they find themselves covered in water and they can hear twinkling giggles and loud, wet high-fives.

“What the hell?” Billy demands as he wipes his eyes and sees Trini’s little brothers watching them with wide eyes. “Aw, man. How could you guys do that?”

“Kimmy said to.” Mateo shrugs.

“Are you serious? My girlfriend used my own little brothers against us? She’s the worst.” Trini complains as she ruffles her dark locks. “I can’t believe she actually managed to convince Mateo and Alec to turn against me.”

“Do you not remember who she’s dating? She learned from the best.” Zack hisses. “The real question is why them? What exactly are they planning?”


Three voices fill the air and suddenly another wave of water is thrust upon them. Zack backs himself against a tree with his hands in front of himself, but Tommy just smirks and continues to pump the water gun until the boy hits his knees with a cry.

Beside him, Jason laughs as he steps closer to Billy who has long past given up and is curled in a fetal position at his feet. Kimberly giggles as she sees Trini attempt to dodge the icy blasts of water, and Kimberly is too distracted to notice her girlfriend grab a hold of something; that is until the pink water balloon makes contact with her stomach and all hell breaks loose.

Water balloons begin to fly through the air as water fills the space between each throw. In the Gomez yard, in front of the wondering eyes of Angel Grove, the six teens allow the stress of their lives to leave them as they chase each other around with pink cheeks and aching ribs brought on by their laughter.

Trini manages to escape from the cluster, but Kimberly is quick to follow. She barely makes it to the opposite side of the lawn before she is wrapped in a tight embrace and carried off to the side. Trini laughs as she finds herself pressed against the warm brick of her house before the cold muzzle of a green water gun settles against her chest.

“Surrender?” Kimberly demands.

“You wish, princess.” Trini snorts and Kimberly simply narrows her eyes as she presses the gun a little harder into the dip of her breast. “I won’t go down without a fight.”

Kimberly stares at her for a long moment before she drops the gun and steps into her girlfriend’s space, Trini barely gets a sound out before lips are on her own. Just like a flip of a switch, Trini short circuits at the taste of strawberry lip gloss and something is purely Kimberly.

“That’s not fair.” Trini whines as she pulls away from the kiss and drags a gentle kiss over her girlfriend’s cheek. “Your kisses aren’t going to be my downfall.”

“I don’t believe you.” Kimberly laughs as she sweeps Trini into another kiss, and a moan of satisfaction burns in her throat as Trini presses closer to her. “You sure my kisses won’t make you surrender?”

“You fight dirty, princess.” Trini growls as she drops her head back against the house while smiling lips dance over the steady thump of her pulse. “You’re totally cheating, I hope you know that.”

“Do you surrender?” Kimberly asks in a soft whisper, the girl draws away slightly so she can lock her gaze with her girlfriend’s in time to catch a the glare she is offered. “Are you admitting defeat?”

“Eat your heart out.” Trini snaps, but she quickly melts and reaches up to smooth a thumb over the pout Kimberly gives her. “Hey, no fair. No pouting allowed.”

“Tell me I won.” Kimberly orders.

“Babe, why would I tell you something you already know?” Trini demands with a roll of her eyes, but a smile plays at her lips when Kimberly squeaks. “Just remembered you won this battle, boo. Not the war.”

“You’re so cute.” Kimberly grins.

“Hey, I am not cute. I’m a total badass.” Trini declares with a huff.

“My girlfriend is such a dork.” Kimberly hums as she drops their foreheads together while her grasp loosens around her water gun. “I love you. Even if you started a water war.”

“Lucky me. I still don’t know why you put up with me, you’re way too good to me.” Trini teases as she pulls away to drop her head against Kimberly’s shoulder.

“Wait. Babe, what do you mean you don’t know why I put up with you?” Kimberly scoffs as she tilts Trini’s head back up and cleans the line of pink from below her eye.

“I just don’t get why you put up with me sometimes, y’know?” Trini shrugs as she forces a laugh while a blush colors her cheeks. “It’s stupid. I didn’t mean to ruin our moment or anything. It just slipped out.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” Kimberly frowns as she ducks her head to press a soft kiss to Trini’s lips. “I, as you so lovingly put it, put up with you because you make me happy. I am the happiest I have ever been.”

“Ditto.” Trini hums as she curls her arms around Kimberly while her girlfriend rests her chin on her head. “Before you came along, I felt like my life was just a blur but being with you has taught me to slow down and enjoy the smallest moments.”

Kimberly sighs as she turns her head to press her lips against wet locks, “You don’t realize how much I really love you.”

“I love you, too.” Trini grins as she pulls back and tips her head so Kimberly can kiss her, but their moment is shattered as they hear Billy squeal. “We should probably go make sure our friends aren’t killing each other.”

“Or we could stay here.” Kimberly suggests even as she pulls away, and she is quick to cringe as Billy yells loudly. “I guess you’re right, God knows what Tommy is doing to Billy and Zack right now.”

With a sigh, Kimberly pinches Trini’s chin between her fingers before she guides her head up so she can steal a kiss. Trini immediately settles into the kiss, and she feels like she could take on anything so long as Kimberly was beside her. When Kimberly kissed her like this, Trini swears the world is hers to have and to hold.

And fuck if she ever lets go of it or this girl.


Braun Strowman/OC: Braun comes home from being on the road and finds you in another wrestler’s shirt. Jealousy. Some anger. Dom!Braun makes his return.

Tagging my bbies: @lavitabella87 @omgmissmillie @screamersdontdance @everybodyfinnfreeze @shadow-of-wonder @laochbaineann @she-reigns-in-this-yard @sarrahcha @twiistedbliiss @hotspurmadridista @niazha16 @happelu970 @officialbroski10-blog @crowleysqueenofhell @lilmisscrisis @antigonemaia @imnoaingeal @littledeadrottinghood @imagineall-the-fandoms @macfizzle @oraclegazes @welshwitch5 @wrasslesmut @actualamyautopsy @blondekel77 @valeonmars @squirrel666 @livingthestrongstyle @damnbuvky @dmm-wts @caramara3 @abbie03d @roserae527 @superrezzy00 @the-geekgoddes @phenominalstyles @panic-angel3314 @that-lolachick @thephenomenonalkingofthebrogues @heelturn-timesten @wrestlingnoob @georgiadean37 @taryndibiase @heeltothequeen @kanupps06 @ringsidexdreaming @rolivia-fin @ambrosegirlforever @bodhi-black @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @baeckyshorsewomen @im-indestructible @artemisapalla316 @unabashedwwesmut

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TWD thoughts

I’ve seen a lot of people talking about this and thought I would put my thoughts on this. I actually thought that what Rick and the family did to Oceanside was kind of wrong. I understand they needed the guns and what not, but doing the explosions and stealing all of the guns…I mean Oceanside has gone through so much as it is. I do think what they did was wrong, they left a clearly vulnerable area left alone with no protection. No weapons. There was a walker attack on them, which means that it was likely that there would be another one. So I do think the group taking all of the weapons leaving Oceanside completely alone was wrong. Whether they are bringing the guns back or not…it still wasn’t alright in my view that they left the group completely vulnerable. 

Before someone throws out at me “but you are a Negan fan…” because I see people attacking those of us for being a Negan fan, I’m a Negan fan that knows that the Saviors are not good people. I’m also a huge fan of Rick and the rest of the crew too, so… *shrugs* 

While The Saviors are worse, what Rick’s group did wasn’t exactly great either. 

Why does Ymir wake up in a desert?

[tl;dr] at the end.

Yesterday’s episode was a pretty interesting one in terms of story development, since Ymir’s flashback originally took place in chapter 89 of the manga, so it would theoretically be animated in season 4 of the anime. However, WIT Studio, and maybe Isayama as well (which I hope so), decided to already include the flashback in episode 35, probably due to a better foreshadowing to what will happen later on in the story and due it it being beneficial for structuring Ymir’s character.

That aside, I noticed something strange while watching the animated scene:

In the manga, one could see a resemblance between the place Marcel was eaten and the one Ymir woke up in in the next panel, mainly due to the flat ground and sparse flora both share. This is why it was obviously suspected that both panels take place at the same location.

But now for the anime:

In the scene where Ymir eats Marcel, a typical setting of the SnK world is shown.

You can see mountains in the back, some trees on the side and a rocky ground, reminding of a place with a moderate climate. But please pay attention to the scenery in which Ymir opens her eyes again after being reborn.

That’s not the same place anymore, let alone something we have seen before in the SnK universe. Ymir is clearly waking up in a desert!

How did she get there? I actually can not imagine her running through the entire island of Paradis trying to find a desert while sleeping, and I actually couldn’t even think of Paradis having one (Prove me wrong).

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...My Laboratory...

On my previous fanfiction, there has been a sudden occurrence of 56 notes… WHERE DID YOU PEOPLE SUDDENLY APPEAR FROM?! I mean, I’m fine with it bUT HOLY CRAP

Flug was used to being alone in his lab, he had everything to work for in that lab, his life, his food, his sleep, his emotions, his friends. He enjoyed being in the lab late at night to catch some glimpses of the stars through his curtain covered windows, drawing them back and tying them to one another to see more clearly.

To take breaks and take little naps, he’d watch them twinkle through the windows despite being late already on a project. It was fairly calming to him, kept him from going fully crazy and insane like the demon he sold his life to.

Sometimes, the big blue bear, 5.0.5., would crowd around him and curl up beside him, allowing himself to be used as an arm rest or pillow. The two were like servants to Black Hat, proving Demencia to just be annoying and useless in Black Hat’s eyes.

But in his lab, Demencia turned out to be  big help sometimes. If Flug had gotten seriously injured from his work habits and projects, she’d help him fix the wounds without the alarm from Black Hat.

She’d also keep him company whenever he was close to falling asleep, her annoying words usually keeping him awake to work longer on the project. Or when he fell asleep by the window, drowsily watching the stars, she’d wake him up by shouting that Black Hat would be angry if he didn’t get to work soon.

But he had bad memories in the lab too, memories like terrible wet dreams of his boss that he never would mention to A N Y B O D Y.

He’s been beaten to a pulp in that lab before for being a whole hour late for an auction with the project. He had been harassed by Demencia for his crush on their boss so many times. Including the tiem where she spoke out loud enough for the boss to hear, “I CAN’T BELIEVE THERE’S SOMEONE ELSE WHO LIKES HIM!”

It was enough for Flug to shove her away and put duct tape on her mouth and strap her to his recent project; an electric chair. Then, Black Hat applauded him for the effort, but now, Black Hat ignored it and carried out whatever he was doing previously.

It was as though Black Hat was tiring of constantly seeing Dr. Flug’s masked face. It even saddened Flug enough to consider digging through his memories for his old happiness in high school like his boss had instructed him NOT to do.

And after remembering certain happy memories, having a girlfriend in sophomore from earning medals by being a straight A student all of his education life in science and attending, maybe winning science fairs. All those happy memories made him weep at night, when he stared at those stars.

He missed those days, the days of accomplishing so much in such little time. He wasn’t sure which era of his life he liked more though, both were actually similar.

From the bullies in highschool who wanted his homework for science to a demon bully wanting his science projects to sell for self-worth. From the girls who annoyed him with their teasing to Demencia, his own creation who tortured him endlessly about every move he made and every word he said.

He couldn’t decide. He never would be able to actually. Both eras of his life were full of expression, fear, joy, happiness, accomplishments, and exhilarating events. All of it was around his favorite subject too;science.


“Okay, you’re telling me you’re not Jensen and Jared? You’re actually Sam and Dean?? Are you guys fuckin’ with me?”

(If these are your gifs, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.)
Requested by Anonymous

Imagine Ivar being the one who wants to take over your kingdom (part 3)

Part Ihttp://lordavanti.tumblr.com/post/157144945223/imagine-ivar-being-the-one-who-wants-to-take-over
Part IIhttp://lordavanti.tumblr.com/post/157202649578/imagine-ivar-being-the-one-who-wants-to-take-over

Summary: Ivar get supriced by an attack from your father in the middle of the night. He thinks, in all his anger, that you were behind it and punish you for it. Afterwards he feels so bad about it he brings you back home.
Notes: Violence
Words: 1948

You sat against your pole again, to stubborn to give in with Ivar his suggestion to lay in the bed … again. But just like last night this night wasn’t any better. You still felt the cold lingering on your skin and you wished you didn’t be so stubborn all the time. You were staring until some weird noice maked you a little more alert. Ivar was still sleeping and even outside was it almost completly silence. You walked to the exit of the tent and looked outside. You heard a yell and saw a horse ran by … a horse from your fahter his cavalry. They where here to rescue you? Your gaze fell on Ivar before you looked back outside, saw some tent catching fire. This was your moment, you could run like hell, get yourself back in safety. But there was Ivar and you didn’t want him to die on you fathers sword. “I’m gonna regret this.” You wispered to yourself while running towards Ivar. “Ivar!” You brutaly shook his shoulder and before you even knew it he had a knife against your throat. He startled and pulled it away quickly. “Your are under attack by my father.” You explained. It took him five seconds to process this information. In those five seconds you saw his anger flame up in his deep bleu eyes.
“Stay here.” He commanded you.
“Can’t I come?”
“They want you, I’m not gonna put you in danger, stay here.” And just as he said that there came a soldier of your fahter in the tent. It took Ivar hardly two seconds to grab his axe and trow it in the soldier his chest. You yelled and putted your hand before your mouth. “I mean it y/n, stay here.” And he crawled out. You stared at the dead body and just waited there while the noice of a fight outside grew stronger.

It went on for minutes, almost hours until there was a little more peace again. You didn’t move, you just sat on the egde of the bed and looked to the exit. What if someone came in to grab you? You hadn’t anything with you to defense yourself … why would you defense yourself in the first place? If it were the soldiers of your father you could go home again, if it were Ivar his men than they wouldn’t hurt you. So, there was no defense needed. You said to him to stay put but after all that horrible waiting you walked outside only to see his men running, making themselves ready for battle. “Where is Ivar?” You asked to no one in peticular. One of his men stood still, looking at you as if he was planning to use his axe any moment.
“Don’t think you wanna see him now.” He barked. But he pointed you in the right direction. While you walked through his men you saw that some of them were covered in blood. And when you saw Ivar his chariot you walked a little faster only to see a handfull soldiers from your father dead on the ground. Ivar looked at them, his face covered in blood but he didn’t noticed you.
“Get her.” He commanded coldly. Your body reacted with goosebumps on your arms and a shivering down your spine. The viking on the left of his chariot turned around to see you standing. He walked over at you, with that grinn on his face that promissed nothing good. He grabbed you with your hair and just pulled you towards Ivar. A little yell in pain left your lips before he forced you in the mud just behind the chariot of Ivar. You were afraid to look up, but you did, slowly and met those bleu eyes of Ivar. “What did you tell them Y/n?” He asked  quietly, to quietly for your taste.
“Nothing.” You just stared back at him, tried not to be scared by the way he held his axe in his hand.
“They knew everything what there was to know about this camp,” he felt silent, came from the seat on the chariot and sat on the egde of it right in front of you. “WHAT DID YOU TELL THEM!” He yelled. You startled and looked down to the mud.
“Nothing.” You repeated yourself. And that was just what he couldn’t understand. He grabbed you with your upperarm, squeezed so hard that it hurts and brought the tears on your cheeks.
“Rope.” He gestured to his men. They gave him rope and he makes a loop of it and pulled it over your head so it was around your neck. “I don’t believe a word you say Y/n.”
“Please Ivar, I beg you, I will do everything you ask.” You cried. He turned you around, so you could face him again.
“What? Didn’t expect that I was that cruel?” He asked you before getting up to his seat again. He wrapped the rope around his seat and looked over his shoulder towards you.
“Don’t.” You wispered. This wasn’t the Ivar from yesterday, it was like a monster took over everything inside him. He clicked his tong and the horse moved forward. Hardly seconds later you felt the rope tighten and pulling you down to the ground before it dragged you behind his chariot. This wasn’t the way to die, right?

You couldn’t stop crying, more sobbing really. The tears dried out after he pulled you halfway through the forest. Your thoath burned, your face covered with scratches and your body stiff and cold, wet from all the mud and dirt that got through your dress. Since he was stopped, in the middle of nowhere you didn’t moved. You laid there, curled up, your cross in your hand while you tried to pray for your life. But after a couple of minutes you tried to take notice of your surrounding. Your head shook in fear when you looked up to where the chariot stood. Ivar sat on the egde of it, his head barried between his hands … was he crying to? He must felt it that you were looking because he looked up, your reaction was to look away as soon as his blue eyes met yours. You wanted this man gone, you wanted to run as fast as you could but you were to afraid for the results of that. After a while he moved, he came from the chariot, crawling towards you. “Please, no.” You backed away but the rope prevented you from getting away from him. The friction from the rope burned your throat and you hardly dare to move again.
“Y/n, please.” He wispered. You looked at him, terrified. “I’m sorry.” He apologized. How could he say this? After what he had done? He cutted the rope and your hands immidiatly went to your throat. He looked at it, his eyes big with fear. “What have I done.” He said for himself. You saw a tear running down his cheek and you couldn’t resist the feeling to just stay there. You must look awful, a punishment for something you never did. He laid his hand over yours, pulled away your hands from before your throat and stroke his fingers over the red burning marks the rope caused.You didn’t do anything, you just sat there, looking at his face that showed pain and regret. You didn’t knew Ivar long but you knew he was a passionate person. He could let his emotions get the best of him without him even realizing what he does. He felt sorry for stabbing you in the hand, he didn’t say it in words but you could read it in his eyes. He had fallen for you but he wouldn’t admit to it. And now he did this, dragging you through the forest because of his anger. Now you knew that the story of his brother was the truth, he almost did it to you to. He pulled you closer, almost in a embrace and you just let your head rest on his shoulder. One minute … two, three before you started crying again and you tightend you gripp around his body. “I will bring you home first thing tomorrow.” He wispered and you believed him. He couldn’t bare the idea of keeping you captive any longer. You couldn’t think clearly so you let your emotions go. Let him take you back to the camp where you got his bed as he went to sit against the pole. You were so exhausted that there was nothing needed to get you to sleep.

When you opened your eyes he was still sitting against that pole, looking at you. You turned your eyes away and looked somewhere else instead. Your throat felt swallowed, your hand hurted and your head was still covered in blood and mud. “I send a rider out to your father with the message he will recive his daughter back within two hours after sunrise.” Ivar began. You turned your eyes back to him, he looked so steady, peacefull. Nothing left from  that anger, only a broken glance everytime he looked at you. You nodded but didn’t say anything. He took a deep breath and crawled towards the bed, pulled himself half up to look at you. “I can’t speak my actions right, I only hope that by letting you go you understand how much I’m sorry for what I did.” He wispered. His fingers stroke your forehead and you closed your eyes, letting a tear roll back over your face. “I would do anything for you my princess, even letting you go.” He followed before crawling out and leaving you with the heartbreak of this situation.

Their was a woman in the camp who gave you a new dress and cleaned you up in the ways she could. The cloak covered the damage of your throat but your face and hand were still visable for everone to see. You ride in Ivar his chariot, with five more men to the pre-arranged place. It was pouring rain and maked the situation more dreadful than it already was. Ivar let his horse stop and watched to the ten men full in armor who came towards all of you. You recognized your brother among them, your father wasn’t even there and it maked you angry. Ivar looked at you for a moment, searching your face for a reaction. “Give my sister back.” Your brother yelled. Ivar nodded and looked at you again. You only looked at your brother and  the ten men he had with him.
“He will attack you Ivar, as soon as I am home again.” You wispered with a soar voice.
“We will be prepared.” He nodded slowly.
“You’re outnumbered.” You said while getting of the chariot.
“If he is willing to fight for his daughter so be it, I’m willing to fight to make my wrongs right.” He answered. You bited your lip and looked at him, you pulled the little cross over you head and gave it to him.
“Remember what happened, don’t let it come so far again, for your own sanity.”
“I’ll remember you princess.” He smiled a little but it wasn’t a real smile. You give him a last look before you walked over to your brother who got from his horse to embrace you. But when he saw your face his eyes rolled right back at Ivar.
“I will punish him for this sister.” He wispered in anger.
“Just bring me home.” You replied. He pulled you behind him on his horse. You looked a last time at Ivar and felt his eyes all the way in your back until you dissapeared on the horizon …

Dramatic end or a part 4?

waitingforeleven  asked:

Hello, my friend! For your ficlet giveaway, how about FS + THE CROWN :D (any scene/moment you want!) Thanks for doing this! <3

@whatlighttasteslike​ *heavy sigh* do I thank you or scold you for enabling me? XP I had so much fun writing this - but now it’s gonna end up being a full (if shortish) fic at some point when I finish my vastly delayed FSSV present. <3
{Much of this scene includes dialogue from the first episode.}
Anniversary Ficlet 3/8.
Rated G. FitzSimmons. “The Crown” (Queen Elizabeth & Prince Philip) AU.

The room’s familiar gilding served as no distraction for Jemma as she paced the elaborate carpet that adorned the floor. Her dress swished around her legs, and she resisted the urge to curl her fingers into the cream-colored fabric. That would not be ladylike. Voices droned on in the room across the hall, and although she knew that it would be seen as very improper for her to be present or even eavesdrop, the latter was precisely what she was trying to do. It just didn’t seem fair for her to be excluded from such an important occasion; but, that’s just how things were done, and Crown Princess Jemma Simmons was excellent at following royal protocol. She’d been an expert ever since she was a child, and she wasn’t going to stop now. Still, she paced back and forth in front of the drawing room door, managing to catch a handful of words:

…From henceforth, he will be known as Lieutenant Leopold James Fitz, Royal Navy. Leopold Fitz, I grant you and the heirs, male of your body, lawfully begotten, the dignities of Baron Greenwich, Earl of Meioneth and Duke of Edinburgh, and Knight Companion of our Most Noble Order of the Garter.”

Reserved applause sounded through the hallway, and Jemma realized that she was grinning in an entirely unseemly way, but she couldn’t convince herself to stop. When she accidentally caught the eye of a nearby butler, she quickly tried to school her face into an expression of polite contentment, and gave him a nod. Then she turned on her heel and paced back to the other side of the room, wholly impatient for the men’s congratulating to finish so that she could finally, finally see her fiancé.

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A/N: a part two is coming don’t worry!

  • PAIRING: Remus Lupin x Reader
  • SUMMARY: In which a 40-year old Remus Lupin tells the story of how he met his wife.
  • WARNINGS: some cursing i guess
  • WORDS: 2693

Remus John Lupin wanted to tell a story to his kids, an incredible story in which they’ve heard a million times but never actually took the time to hear every single detail.

“Kids, I’m going to tell you the story of how I met your mother,” Remus said in his posh-British accent facing his kids.

“Are we being punished for something?” His younger son asked. The sandy-haired man—with an exception of a few newly welcomed gray hairs—let out a ‘no.’

His older daughter sighed, “Yeah, is this going to take a while?”

The elder man nodded, “yes, so get comfortable in your seats because I’m going to take you back twenty-five years ago before I was ‘dad’ I had a whole other life.”

That’s when he began his story… “It was all the way back in 1987 when I was 27. Just starting to make it as a Professor, teaching the dark arts, and living in the Muggle world, aka London with James, my best friend from Hogwarts. My life was good, that was until Uncle James went and screwed the whole thing up.”

James was on his knees about to utter the forsaken words in which he couldn’t look back now, “will you marry me?” he asked opening the little box which the diamond ring was held in.

Though he didn’t actually say it to the woman he loved and wanted to say the words too, he was practicing to his good old, twenty-seven-year-old pal, Remus.

The messy sandy-haired man practically jumped with excitement, “Yes! Perfect, then you’re engaged, you pop the champagne, drink a toast, you have sex on the kitchen floor!” Then Remus contemplated what he said for a second, “don’t have sex on the kitchen floor.”

The brunet man nodded, “Got it, and thanks for helping me plan this out, Moony.”

“Mate, are you kidding? It’s you and Lily! You’ve been chasing after this girl for years, and I’ve been there for all the big moments between you and her.” Prongs went into the kitchen to grab two beer bottles from the kitchen handing one to Remus, “The moment you met, your first date, other first things…”

James chuckled nervously rubbing his hand behind his neck, taking a sip of his beer, “Y-Yeah sorry about that mate, we thought you were asleep.”

“It’s physics Prongs. If the bottom bunk moves, the top one moves too.” He leaned against the refrigerator for leverage for what he’s about to say. “But mate do you realize you’re getting engaged tonight?”

“I think I do Moons.” Prongs chuckled raking a hand through his hair, “what’re you doing tonight?” Asked James right when Remus was about to take a sip of his beer.

Narrator Remus decided to interrupt the story, “what was I doing? Uncle Prongs was about to take a big step of his life, and me? I’m calling up your Uncle Sirius.”

The moment the telephone in Sirius’ apartment rang he picked it up, “Talk to me.” He sternly said through the phone.

“Hi Padfoot, it’s me Moony.”

“Hey, so you know I’ve always had a thing for half-Asian girls?” What he said caused Remus to roll his eyes. “Well now I’ve got a new favorite, Lebanese girls,” Moony could practically see him smirking through the phone. Sirius then began to state, “as a matter of fact, Lebanese girls are the new half-Asians.”

Remus decided to change the topic, “Hey, so you wanna do something tonight?”

“Okay, meet me at the bar in 15 minutes. And suit up!” His excitement caused Remus to roll his eyes, hanging the call up.

Sirius waiting for him at the bar as Remus waltzed into the bar, with normal clothes to Sirius’ dismay, nodding a ‘hey’ at the dark-haired man.

Padfoot rolled his eyes vigorously exasperating, “Where’s your suit!? Just once when I say ‘suit up’ I wish you’d put on a suit!”

“I did, that one time.”

Black seemed very offended, “It was a blazer!”

The messy sandy-haired man changed the topic they were discussing, “You know, ever since Hogwarts it’s been James and Lily and you and me.” He said using hand gestures to prove his point as he said the names together. “Now it’s gonna be James and Lily, you and me.” Now he said the names separately, with a pause. “They’ll get married, start a family. Before long I’m that weird middle-aged bachelor their kids call ‘Uncle Remus.’”

Sirius had to smack him upside the head for him to snap out of it pointing a stern finger at him, “I see what this is about, have you forgotten what I said to you at Hogwarts? Don’t even think about getting married til you’re 30!”

“Thirty, right, you’re right. I guess it’s just when your best friend gets engaged, you start thinkin’ about that stuff.” Moony leaned against the bar.

“I thought I was your best friend.” The dark-haired man seemed offended for the second time that night, “Remus, say I’m your best friend.”

Remus nodded putting a comforting hand on Padfoot’s shoulder, “you’re my best friend Pads.”

“Good. Then as your best friend, I suggest we play a little game I like to call,” Sirius started to rub his hands together looking around the bar, “‘haaaave you met Remus?’”

The sandy-haired man started to shake his head vigorously at the man in front of him, “no, no, no, no, we’re not playing ‘have you met Remus.’”

Padfoot decided to do it anyway, tapping the shoulder of the first girl he saw bringing her out of an interesting conversation, as Sirius asked the question. “Hi, have you met Remus?”

Remus began to blush, “Hi, I’m Remus.”

“Tonks.” The girl said, running a hand through her pink hair.

“Tonks? Never heard a name like that before.”

“It’s actually my last name, I’m not very fond of my first name ‘Nymphadora.’” The pink-headed girl rolled her eyes viciously at her ridiculous name.

“Overall, it’s nice to meet you, Dora.

Lily just entered her shared apartment with her boyfriend and best friend. She was greeted by her brunet boyfriend, “Hey.”

The young woman laid her stuff on the couch facing James, “I’m exhausted. It was a finger-painting day at school and a 5-year old boy…” Lily paused, unbuttoning her sweater to show her shirt had a small painted hand on her breast, “…got to second base with me.”

James showed a disgusted face then chuckled, Lily looked behind the six foot giant to see the kitchen counter had layers, upon layers of food. “Wow, you’re cooking? Without magic?”

Prongs nodded cockily, “yes I am.”

She cried out an ‘aw’ pecking his lips, “are you sure that’s a good idea after last time? You looked frightening without eyebrows.”

“I can handle this. I think you’ll find out that I’m full of surprises tonight.”

“So there’s more surprises, like what?” James had a guilty look his eye, looking around the room to think of something.

Older Remus decided to interrupt his story once again, “James was in his second year of muggle law school, since he was planning on having a muggle occupation, so he was pretty good at thinking on his feet.”

“Boogedy boo!” James screamed at the red-head catching her off-guard, “And that’s all of them. I’m gonna go, cook.” He said in a normal voice, pointing to the kitchen.

Remus’ current situation consisted of talking about marriage and ‘serious relationships’ to the girl he literally just met at the bar.

“I’m really happy for James, I really am. I just couldn’t imagine settling down right now.” He ranted.

Tonks then asked the one question that had bothered him for most of his 20-year-old life. “So do you think you’ll ever get married?”

“Well, maybe eventually. Some fall day.” Moony paused, “Possibly in Hyde Park, simple ceremony. We’ll write our own vows. Band, of course. People will dance, I’m not gonna worry about it.” He raked a hand through his light-brown hair, “bloody hell, why did James have to get engaged?”

The pink-headed girl chuckled causing him to scoff, “yeah, nothing sexier than a guy planning out his own imaginary wedding, huh?”

The young lady smiled, “actually, I think it’s cute.”

He took her scotch drink away from her, “well, then you are clearly drunk.” Raising the glass in the air he shouted, “one more for the lady!”

Back at their apartment, James was sitting on the counter watching his soon-to-be-fiancee cooking the dinner that he failed to cook himself. A thought came to his head making him get up from his spot he was previously sitting at, “Oh! Hey, look what I got…” Grabbing something from the refrigerator, he gave it to the red-head.

She smiled up at him, “Oh, honey, champagne.” The girl handed the bottle back towards him, signaling him to pop it open.

The brunet handed it back towards him, followed by a ‘yeah.’

Lily rolled her eyes, “No, you are too old to be scared to open a bottle of champagne.”

Prongs tried to defend himself, “I’m not scared.”

“Then open it.” The red-head handed it back to her scaredy-cat boyfriend, who let out a huff of ‘fine,’ staring at the bottle before handing it back to her.

“Please open it.”

She started to get angry, pacing around the kitchen giving the bottle to Prongs all the while letting out an, “Gosh, you are unbelievable, James.”

James couldn’t take it anymore, so he grabbed the tiny box from his pocket opening it and getting on one knee as Lily ranted. “Will you marry me?” The brunet asked the sacred question interrupting her rant, causing her to gape at the man in front of her, completely awestruck.

“Of course you idiot!” Lily exclaimed tackling him to the ground.

As time passed by, the fiancees exhaled smiling like two goofballs getting up from the kitchen floor, hair messy, breath short and choppy, clothes wrinkly. “I promised Remus we wouldn’t do that.”

Lily ran a hand through her long, and messy, fiery red hair. “Did you know there’s a biscuit under the fridge?”

“No, but dibs.” James outstretched his arm towards the counter, grabbing the bottle of alcohol, “Where’s that champagne? I want’ a drink a toast with my fiancee.” He grinned at the girl, who sweetly pecked him on the lips.

She rose up from the floor, as James tried to open the bottle of champagne. “I don’t know why I was so scared of this. It’s pretty easy, right?” As the cork popped it went straight towards Lily, making her scream as it hit her eye.

Once again, back at the bar was Remus and Sirius. Tonks had to leave since she wasn’t interested in Remus as he was her. “Why am I freaking out all of a sudden? This is crazy. I’m not ready to settle down.” Moony ranted to his friend, “the plan was to not even think about it until you’re 30.”

Sirius nodded at his words, mumbling a ‘yes’ every now and then.

“Plus, James found the love of his life. Even if I was ready, which I’m not, but if I was, it’s like, ‘okay, I’m ready. Where is she?’” He turned around and that’s when he saw her.

“And there she was. It was like something from an old movie where the sailor sees the girl across the crowded dance floor, turns to his mate whilst saying, ‘see that girl? I’m gonna marry her someday.’”

She was beautiful in his eyes, Y/H/C cascading down her shoulders, her sensitive Y/E/C eyes looking at the person in front of her who was talking to her, nodding along as she listened to what they had to say.

Remus realized he was staring so he tapped Sirius, “Hey Pads, do you see that girl?”

His friend was leaned against the bar, scotch in hand as he looked at who his best friend was staring at. “Oh, yeah. You know she likes it dirty.” And…of course, Sirius had to ruin the moment. The handsome dark-haired man nudged him, “go say hi.”

The charming sandy-haired man shook his head, “I can’t just go say hi. I need a plan,” That’s the moment when he started to over think, “I’m gonna wait until she goes to the bathroom, that I’ll just strategically place myself by the jukebox so that…” He trailed off, but right before he was about to turn towards Sirius to see if he was listening, the girl was already at the bar and the handsome dark-haired man tapped her on the shoulder and asked the four worded question he dreaded.

“Hi, have you met Remus?”

Remus looked like a deer in the headlights, cursing under his breath as Sirius left. The girl turned around just as surprised as he was. “Hi.” Moony waved at her.

“Let me guess…” The American girl trailed off snapping her fingers, “Remus.”

He grinned shrugging.

[I made the reader american bc in the show robin is canadian, which made her stand out, out of all the americans that play in the show]

The official, fiancees got in a cab all the while James kept telling Lily how he was sorry, “I’m so sorry baby. Take us to the hospital.” He instructed the driver.

Before the driver even started the car he asked, “whoa, whoa, whoa…did you hit her?”

The young couple slowly turned towards each other, as Lily’s ice pack covered her eye then laughed all of a sudden. “Hit me? Please. He can barely even spank me in bed for fun.”

James started to blush in embarrassment as the cab driver started the car, driving to the nearest hospital.

Remus was still at the bar with the girl he just met, that he soon found out her name being Y/N. “So what do you do?” He kindly asked her.

“I’m a reporter for BBC News.” The girl started as Moony let out an ‘oh,’ seemingly impressed by this girl. “Even though I’m obviously not British, I still work for a British newscast.”

“Wow, never met an American girl and a girl with an impressive profession before.” He chuckled before realizing what he said seemed dumb, “sorry, you’re really pretty.” That caused the both of them to chuckle, her laugh sounding like music in the light-brunet man’s ears.

Y/N then mockingly waved at her friends who were seated at the booth at the end of the bar, all with unhappy faces.

Remus turned towards the people she was waving at, “Well, your friends don’t seem too happy.”

The young woman nodded, “Yeah, see, the one in the middle just got dumped by her boyfriend. So tonight, every guy is ‘the enemy.’” She said using air quotes.

“You know, if it’ll make your friend feel better you could throw a drink in my face. I don’t mind.”

“She would love that.” The Y/H/C haired beauty started to smile. “And it does look fun in the movies.”

The young man was incredibly intrigued by this girl, “Hey, d’you wanna have dinner with me Saturday night?”

“Oh, I can’t I’m going to Scotland for a week on Friday. Some guy’s attempting to make the world’s biggest pancake, guess who’s covering it?”

“So that’s gonna take a week?”

“Yeah, he’s gonna eat it too. Another record.” She half-smiled at the guy.

“Hey, what’s takin’ so long?” Her friend cried from where she was sat, comforted by her other friends. The girl held up a finger, signaling them it will only take a minute.

Remus turned around so he was facing her again, as she dug through her purse. “Um… I know this is a long shot but, how about tomorrow night?”

She beamed looking at him, “yeah, what the hell?” She stood a bit closer to him to pass her business card towards him, in order for her friends not see. From smirking, her facial expression changed to a frown on her heart-shaped face, her whole demeanor changed as she grabbed her martini and threw across Moony’s face. All the while yelling, “Jerk!” Then smirking at him turning around, “that was fun.” Her friends cheered her on, smiling.

tags: @arian5a

[A/N: if you want a tag in any of my future one-shots/imagines just message me!]

Call it What You Will, a fem-Harry drarry story dedicated to my dear and incredible friend, Sammie aka @dreamydrarry. Sammie, I am so so so sorry it took forever for me to get this done. Hope the story makes up for it. 

Summary:  She hates Malfoy. Malfoy hates her. Yet…in between moments of glaring and taunting and occasional punching, they always came through for each other when the other least expected it.

Call It What You Will

First year, a month after she was taken from the ordinary world of chores and Dursleys to one of magic and wonder, Aria Potter felt like a zombie. A calm, rational zombie, staring straight ahead, putting one foot in front of the other, following behind as Hagrid led the detention group back into the castle.

Hagrid was muttering about centaurs and their riddles. Hermione and Ron were close behind him, getting into another argument over Ron’s lack of wrist movement. She was far behind, half-heartedly listening to the commotion with one ear, holding herself tightly as another shudder broke through her body.

From the freezing autumn wind whipping against their cheeks and through their hair. From memory of the slain unicorn they found with its neck torn open. From the vivid crimson eyes glowing from the pale-faced, hooded-figure that was biting into its’ neck.

She was so calm. Brave even, according to Ron with a bright grin after they found her. Definitely braver than the blonde-haired, snotty scaredy-cat that fled the second the stranger flashed those burning crimson eyes at them. Maybe she was brave for standing her ground, not looking from him. Only now it was all the calm she possessed during that time vanished with the fear knocking into her at full force, spreading ice through her veins as those burning red eyes flashed through her mind-

A hand reached out to pull her hand away from her side and hold it in his own.

Stunned, she turned over to see Draco Malfoy by her side. “Wha-”

“Don’t think too much of it, Potter.” he said.

“Said the one who grabbed my hand.” she snapped.

“Call it needing an inexpensive source of warmth,” he said.

The fact he refused to look at her hinted on the warmth was intended for. She won’t deny that he managed to take her mind away from burning red eyes and spilled unicorn blood. That his hand, despite every other revolting thing he was, did feel nice. Warm and soft.

But it was Malfoy, the Prince of Prats that had been an absolutely git to her since day one. She didn’t need to stroke his ego anymore than it already was.

So she did the logical thing. She squeezed his hand tight, making sure it hurt. A smile touched her face when she heard a satisfying yelp.

Second year, Draco Malfoy kept his head low, eyes focused on the brownish-green grass as Father stood across from him, mentally peeling the skin off his bones as he recounted every single mistake done on Draco’s part during his miserable Quidditch match.

When he managed to push past the pain throbbing down below from his fall, Draco looked up to see the glare firing in Father’s eyes that demanded a “talk” afterwards. Three hours in, Father was still listening out his faults. His words the hammer and Draco the nail, being knocked deeper and deeper into the ground with each verbal, stinging lash.

“It isn’t enough that you were proven woefully inadequate to a measly, irrelevant Mudblood flea that somehow came out on top academic-wise.”

Only because the stupid pest spends every waking second in the library, devouring books like crazy, Draco argued in his head. If he were a bit braver, he’d voice it out loud, but past mistakes and faded bruises taught him that speaking out when Father was in a mood only worsened the consequences for him.

“Everyday this past summer you’ve been pestering me nonstop for a new broom, promising you’ll bring victory to both the Slytherin house and the Malfoy name. Yet you couldn’t even do that, failing once again.”

It was all because of stupid Potter. Because that bludger was meant for her head and he was the innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. Because somehow she was able to manipulate the wind to her advantage, adding more speed to that twig of a broom. Because she-she-


Both father and son blinked at the cry, halting Father’s rant, halting Draco’s wishes of melting into the ground.

Low and behold, when one spent so much time cursing out Potter in their head, she’d appear like clockwork. Still dressed in her Quidditch uniform, dirt dusted onto her cheeks and clothes, her arm set in a cast.

Father’s eyes narrowed as they took of it. “Sports’ injury, Potter?”

“Unfortunately,” she scowled, jerking her head towards Draco. “Courtesy of your son.”

Courtesy of whom?!

She looked at him, holding up her bandaged arm, her too-green green eyes flashing. “Congratulations, Malfoy. I thought the upper-class players were brutes. Apparently I was proven wrong.”

Flabbergasted, Draco looked to Father, watching the heavy sheer of disappointment and fury roaring in his eyes slowly chip away. First to astonishment, and then to something else: grim satisfaction.

“Really?” He glanced over at Draco, then looked over at Potter. “Perhaps you should take it as a warning, Ms. Potter,” he smiled, the curled corners of his mouth sharp as a blade. “Certain people of a frail, delicate structure as yourself shouldn’t be playing such a rough sport.”

Potter returned Father’s smile with a sweet one of her own. So greatly, irritatingly sweet that Draco’s teeth ached from looking at it, feeling cavities being drilled into his molars. “But then creatures such as myself won’t have the pleasure of showing bigots such as yourself how delicate when I knock them flat on their arse and win the game.”

Draco bit down his lip to stop the curl from unraveling across his lips, carefully avoiding Father’s eyes as fury shaped his face once more.

“Always a pleasure, Potter,” Father sneered. “Draco,” he nodded, and then took his leave.

Potter was about to take one of her own until Draco grabbed hold of her hood, stopping her in her tracks.

“We both know I didn’t do that,” He jerked his head towards her cast.

Her response was a simple shrug.


Potter shrugged with one shoulder, her bright green eyes focused on her muddy shoes. “Call it giving a dog a bone. I could hear his barking from the other side of the field.”

That should have been enough, yet…"Why?“

Potter opened her mouth, then closed it, thinking over her answer before finally saying, "I don’t like bullies, Malfoy.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

“Besides, we both know if it’s anyone’s job to knock you down a peg, it’s mine.”

He did however know what to say to that. “You won’t be so smug next time, Potter, when I knock you off your broom.”

“To do that, you have to know how to actually use one, Malfoy.”

He sneered. With a triumph smirk, she left.

Third year, Aria could still feel the cool touch of the Dementors seeping into her bones, chilling her heart. She could still feel the ice turning her muscles, her limbs into lead as she was stuck on her seat, completely trapped. She could still hear that poor woman screaming.

And that bright flash of green-

She shook her head to clear the cluttered thoughts, and continued walking down. She wanted to talk to Dumbledore, but he vanished the second the Welcoming Feast was over. She wanted to talk to Professor Lupin about what happened and the spell he used to drive the Dementors away, but he was swept into a conversation with both McGonagall and Hagrid and she didn’t want to intrude.

Plus, if she was being honest with herself, she couldn’t stand being in the Great Hall a second longer, knowing a solid ninety-five percent of the conversations and looks going around were centered on her thanks to the train fiasco.

She went to the library for safe haven, relieved to see not too many people there. Probably getting ready for the first day of class tomorrow or, if they were Ron, catching up on their nap-time. She wandered over to one of the fictional shelves and ran her finger through the spines, hoping an interesting one would pop out.

“You never answered my question.”

And out pop the cockroach. She groaned inwardly, directing her attention to the blonde-haired git leaning across the bookshelf behind her, smirking at the razor-sharp glare she shot him.

“You never answered my question, Potter,” Malfoy repeated.

“Yes, Malfoy, I think you’re a great pain in the arse.”

“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual.”

Well, clearly the library was now out. Maybe she could catch up with Hermione; she did mention that she planned on spending the rest of the night in the common room. Or the Patil twins. She moved over to the door, but Malfoy grabbed hold of her wrist.

“Is it true that you fainted?” He asked again. “I mean, actually fainted?”

It was the change of tone, snarky taunting dimming down to something else that kept her there. It was the way he looked, not nastily but almost…worried that made her answer, “Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

It was odd that out of the questions that had been asked about what happened, that one hardly anyone wondered about. Even odder that Malfoy was the one to ask it.

“I-well, I’m not dead.” she finally said.

“That-that’s good.” He cleared his throat, toying with his collar. “Really good.”

Merlin, she had to be dreaming. That was the only explanation for why Malfoy wasn’t acting or looking like an irritating git, but like a person, one that almost cared.

Then just as she was beginning to process the mind-bobbling change, a curve grabbed hold of his mouth, shaping it back into his infamous smirk.

“Then it looks like my job is done.”

She knew it was too good to last. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she asked, “And what would that be?”

“Call it checking on the well-being of my favorite source of entertainment.”

She scowled.

“Oh come on, Potter. With you dead, I’ll have nothing else to bade my time with.”

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the thickest hardcover she could find on the shelf and swung it hard against his arm, smirking at the pained yelp that burst from his mouth.

Fourth year, Draco had a good idea of how the Yule Ball would be like. Elegant, sophisticated, a night to remember as Mother often said, reminiscing about her own Yule Balls Father had taken her to. He spent the following years beforehand planning it all out: he’d have a custom-made suit that, he’d have the most beautiful and perfect girl as his date, and they would be the envy of the all as they danced the night away. He planned, hoped, and dreamed that it would be one of the best nights of his life.

Instead what he got was a complete mess.

Thanks to Parkinson, a last-minute date who attached herself to his arm the second they walked into Potions and throughout the day, begging and weeping and full-on screaming until he finally said yes to get her to shut up. And spent nearly forever getting ready, which made them two hours late to the event.

Thanks to Weasley and some buffoon from Durmstrang who got into a fist-swinging, hex-shooting match. Ordinarily, Draco would be all for it, especially with the way the Durmstrang oaf was pounding Weasley’s face in repeatedly. But not when they fling themselves at the punch bowl where he and Parkinson stood two feet away, getting splashed with the juice. Ruining Pansy’s lacy, frilly mess of a pink dress, which contributed to Draco’s eardrums nearly being ruined by her shrieking.

Thanks to stupid Potter who didn’t trip like he hoped she would when Tournament champions came in, who didn’t make a complete fool out of herself as she danced with her date, a fellow dark-skinned Gryffindor whose name he couldn’t remember or cared to. Who looked like she was having the time of her life while Draco was having the worst of his. Who-who-

Who now looked just as miserable as he was, watching Granger run up the stairs, with the skirts of her blue dress held in her hands, face streaked with tears and mascara. Potter watched her go and sighed heavily, tilting her head back, as if all the burdens of the world were stacked on top of her.

For once the misery on her face didn’t delight him. If anything, it left a heavy, unpleasant feeling in his stomach.

Before he could think it over, he walked over to her and offered her his hand. She looked just as surprised he was to see him there, with his hand out. What was even more surprising was the fact that, unlike first year, she accepted it.

He led her to back to the Great Hall, where the ball was still going on, the musicians still playing and several couples left on the floor, even though they were more interested in each other’s tongues than the music. Draco took Potter to the center of the floor. She placed her other hand on his shoulder, he settled his arm around her waist.

A shared glance, a questioning glance answered with a nod, and they were off, settling into a slow but easy step, following into perfect sync.

One two three, one two three, one two three.

It was funny how Potter was only a half-blood with hardly any dance experience, as far as he knew, but she was able to follow his lead a lot better than Pansy, a pureblood with seven years of dance class under her belt, who couldn’t move without stepping on his feet or nearly tripping on her own.

“Have a nice night?” she asked.

“Pleasant,” he said, letting the grim smile show how great of a night it was for him. “And you?”

“Swell,” she replied. “Like getting teeth pulled out.”

Potter’s sense of humor never ceased to amaze him. He spun her out of his reach and brought her back in.

“So,” she said after a minute of silence. “What do you call this?”

That was a question he had to think on for awhile, finally settling for: “Call it misery seeking out company.”

She scoffed under her breath, but he detected the smallest hint of laughter attached to it.

He was distorted by the sound. Just as he was by her appearance. He was distorted by the way her red dress looked on her, simple but captivating with thin straps, the color going well with her golden skin-tone, the dress showing off her figure. Still petite, but no longer bony, starting to fill out into a more slender frame. The way her messy black hair was set into polished, loose ringlets, entwined with braids. The way she looked that moment, eyes soft and gleaming by the candlelight, black ringlets framed around her face, and lips painted a glossy pink. So unbelievably, painfully pretty.

Throwing their way of normalcy completely off balance.

Balance that was restored a week later when he flashed the Potter stinks button her direction as they passed by each other in the hallway and she dismissed him with an eye-roll.

Fifth year, Aria came to a conclusion. Voldemort was a monster. There was no doubt about that; a ruthless, terrifying monster. But months into the new school year, Aria came across a monster that may be just as bad. Maybe even worse.

A ruthless, vindictive, pink-clad sadist of a nightmare with sharp grins and sweetly-poisoned words who was determined to silence any and all whispers of Voldemort’s return by silencing her.

Slowly, painfully.

By taking away points-hundreds of points-from Gryffindor any chance she got.

By assigning her days’ worth of detention if she sensed Aria was even a toe out of line.

By having her write, I MUST NOT TELL LIES over a thousand times with those blood-engraving quills that carved the words onto her hand like a tattoo.

Tonight’s detention had to be the worst yet.

Not only did she have to use those quills again but she also had to copy every word of the massive, thick books Umbridge handed over to her that covered every aspect of torture the Ministry done to prisoners and traitors alike, dating back to the early Middle Ages. In full, terrifyingly-descriptive, explicit detail.

She had written so much that the words stretched out onto her arms, nearly reaching her shoulders. Had written unwillingly digested so much, images filled of her head of what she read.

Of snakes being shoved down the prisoners’ throats one by one until their bodies were swelled up with them. Of having their arms and legs stretched out by the turn of a wheel until they felt or had their bodies snap into pieces. Torture that was similar to ones that were played out in her dreams, of Voldemort-no, of her, looking down at Muggles and witches and wizards, smiling in delight as her hands slashed them into ribbons.

Nausea twisted her stomach on the slow way back to her room. More than once, she had to push down the bile racing up her throat, swallowing it hard. At one point, she was so tired, so weak, so sick, she had to use the wall for support, the nausea and exhaustion weighting down on her body like a heavy cross.

“No late-night wandering,” drawled a familiar voice behind her.

Hand pressed against churning stomach, Aria turned over, her blurred vision making out a tall figure and white-blonde hair. But at the moment she didn’t really see him. All she saw was a body hung by his neck, serpents gliding underneath his skin, consuming him from the inside out.

And suddenly she was falling.


Quick action and strong arms kept her from crashing face-flat to the ground.

It took a minute for her vision to clear, even longer for the nausea to pass.

She looked up at him. Malfoy’s arms were wrapped around her waist, holding up her limp body.

What happened to you? Those gray eyes asked. Nothing, not a spell, not a charm, not even Malfoy himself, could hide the shock and concern that shaped his face as he took in her appearance.

“I thought you hated me.” she said.

“Call it an intense dislike.” Malfoy said.

“So why are you helping me?”

His eyes scanned her face as if she could find the answer there. She didn’t realize till then how clear his eyes were. “I don’t know.”

He didn’t say another word the whole walk back to her room, though she noticed the tension stiffening his body when he saw the marks marred onto her skin.

Sixth year with only a handful of weeks left of the semester, Draco decided right then and there that cruel was completely, utterly cruel to him. It had always been mean, always nasty, but this time he had the full taste of its cruelty.

He pulled his eyes away from the empty sink and looked up. He almost didn’t recognize the corpse-pale, terrified boy that stared back at him.

The same one who had a mission to fulfill or lose his life in the process.

The same one who watched his once powerful father, a man he believed was untouchable, sink to his knees and groveled for mercy at the hands of the Dark Lord.

The same one who had a crazed aunt that was delighted in telling him the entire summer the ways she’d make his mother bleed and scream for hours if he failed.

The same one who had his life hanging by a thread, on the whim of a madman who could easily kill him if he wished, successful mission or not.

He gripped the sink as if it were his lifeline.

The mission was simple: kill Albus Dumbledore. It should have been easy. The headmaster was a fool, an old sentimental fool who only had time for his few favorites while he left the school and the rest of the students exposed for potential threats to easily waltz right into. Draco clearly didn’t have any care for him, much less lost love or respect. But it was one thing to wish a person gone and another to be the one to actually do it. Which was why he tried to make his attacks indirect, so his hands wouldn’t be stained red. With poison, with the necklace, anything he could think of that would get the job done and keep his hands clean.

Yet each attempt to bring Dumbledore down had been compromised, derailed, and ruined. And the latest attempt was a complete failure.

And if the Dark Lord heard a word about it…

Tears poured down, burning his cheeks like acid. He bit his bottom lip so hard, blood nearly gushed out, as images popped into his head. Of Father down on his knees, begging for mercy, and the Dark Lord smirking down at his pathetic form before presenting to his snake her latest snack. His mother, strong and beautiful Mother, defiled and violated by the monster before she was handed over to his devoted followers as a chew toy. Of being forced to watch it all unfold, and then being killed himself.

A sob ripped through his throat, followed by another and another until-

A pair of arms was wrapped around his shoulders.

Bewildered, he looked over his shoulder to see Potter behind him, her arms clasped around his shoulders like a trap.

That was how he realized that fate truly hated him. Having Potter herself witness his complete humiliation, his breakdown.

Stupid, bloody Potter who was always the cause of his problems.

He fought against her, trying to break free. He fought, he snarled, he tried to reach for his wand. The sounds that came out of his mouth weren’t the cultured tongue of a pureblood heir, but of a wild, savage animal fighting tooth and nail. But Potter was as stubborn as ever, holding onto him tight, refusing to let go.

Draco resisted, fighting all the way, until the energy completely left his body, until his throat throbbed from the frustrated screams and curses and sobs he had been trying to keep locked for the past year, until he was a mess of hot tears.

They sank to the ground, his head buried against her shoulder, and Potter’s hold steady as a life raft, still holding on.

Hours later, his body boneless, his eyes puffy and raw, she offered him her hand.

“Call it a another option to consider.”

He stared into her eyes, glanced down at her hand, and took it without a second thought.

“Call it a pursuing a shared interest,” Draco said, volunteering to help Potter and her friends find the horocruxes.

“Call it a nerve reaction,” Aria commented on the way her body broke into shivers as Malfoy zipped her up into the white and gray dress she chose to wear for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, his hands lightly brushing against her bare back before he pulled up the zipper.

“Call it a way to let out steam,” Draco grinned, catching up with her after her horrible fight with Ron, challenging her to a duel to take their mind off things.

“Call it me finally finding a way to shut you up!” Aria said after she kissed him in heat of the moment, noticing how close they were to each other as they were trading insults back and forth. Only for Draco to yank her back into another one, a longer, deeper kiss.

“Call it-call it…” Draco struggled and failed to find the words to describe the feelings slamming inside of him as he entered into her for the first time. He tried to say it what words couldn’t through his lovemaking, with each slow, deep thrust.

“Call it…call it…” She tried to smile, her lips quivering, eyes burning with tears, as Draco crashed her body into a tree and crashed his lips onto hers before she went out to face Voldemort. Each kiss a desperate plea to stay.

“Love.” Draco said, joining her by the bridge after the war, reaching out for her hand.


He nodded. She glanced at their joint hands; fingers laced through each other’s, and then looked up at him.

“Love.” she agreed with a smile.

Riverdale Imagine: Guilty? Part 3

A/N: Okay this is the last part to my Guilty? mini-series. I hope you guys enjoy - let me know what you think??

Summary: The unlikely group of the reader, Cheryl, Jughead, and Betty investigate into Jason’s murder together. The investigation takes a surprising turn when one of Jughead and Betty’s best friends appears to be involved.

Warning: fake spoilers

Approx 1600 words

It had been two months since Cheryl had confronted me down by Sweetwater River about Jason’s murder, two months since we found Jason’s journal, and two months since someone had stolen it. Cheryl and I had joined Jughead and Betty in their investigation into the murder for the school paper. Although this was sometimes problematic – Cheryl and Jughead notoriously hated each other, and I wasn’t on the best terms with Betty considering what happened between Jason and her sister – we figured that we had more of a chance to uncover something together. So here we were, lounging around in the office of The Blue and Gold, staring up at our largely-empty crime board, desperately trying to come up with a new lead.

“Maybe we’re trying too hard to think outside the box” I suggested. “Maybe we need to begin looking into people at school instead of coming up with some ridiculous and fancy theory? Most people are killed by someone they know right?”

“We’ve tried Y/N. Nobody has a big enough motive” Jughead groaned.

“If no one has an obvious motive, then we find one dumbass” Cheryl spat, giving him one of her classic glares.

“Y/N is right” Betty piped up, giving me an encouraging smile. “We should start seriously looking at Jason’s friends, the people he hung out with the most.”

“That’s the whole football team Betts!” Jughead exclaimed. “They hate me enough already.”

“Well isn’t it just perfect that I am adored by all?” Cheryl said brightly while Jughead mumbled something inaudible. “Y/N and I will get the dirt on them using our feminine charms, while you two can go back to holding hands or whatever you do. Meet us at Pop’s at 5pm my minions!”

I just had time to smile apologetically at Jughead’s I am not her minion glare before Cheryl flounced out of the room and down the corridor, calling for me to catch up as she headed for the boys locker rooms.


By the time Cheryl and I had reached Pop’s and slid into our regular booth by 5pm, we were both disheartened. None of Jason’s teammates could tell us anything; in fact the only thing they seemed able to talk about at all was football and girls, of which neither topic was useful to our investigation. As we miserably stirred our milkshakes and picked at our fries, Jughead and Betty burst into the diner and hastily slid into our booth. Pale-faced, Jughead pushed something across the table towards us; it was a small leather-bound book. There was a pause before Cheryl broke the silence, her voice like ice.

“Where did you – ”

Betty bit her lip in concern and Jughead fidgeted with his beanie before he replied.

“It was in Archie’s locker. I was with him when he was getting his math book and I noticed it on the shelf. It looked so much like the book that you described that I just grabbed it when he wasn’t looking. And when I opened it I realised that I was right.” His voice was shaking; I could tell that he was in shock.

“Archie Andrews?” I asked in disbelief. Sweet-natured, oblivious, endearing Archie Andrews stole Jason’s journal from my house? “Why would he do that? Do you think he killed Jason?”

“Perhaps he is covering for the person who did?” Betty suggested hopefully. I knew that Archie and Betty had been best friends since childhood so this must really be killing her.

“Besides, what motive would he have? Archie is the most motiveless person I have ever met!” Jughead interjected.

“Wanting to be captain of the football team?” Cheryl hissed viciously, I held her hand under the table and squeezed it gently.

“He turned that down when it was awarded to him, he wanted to do music.” Betty corrected her.

“Where was he on the weekend of July 4th anyway? Surely he was with one of you guys?” I questioned, gesturing to Jughead and Betty. Just as the words left my lips Jughead paled as his eyebrows drew together in concern. “What is it Jug?” I asked gently.

“He was supposed to come on a road trip with me” – I could hear panic in his voice now – “but he cancelled last minute.”


Six hours later, when both Archie and his dad had gone to bed, the four of us were creeping up Archie’s driveway under the cover of darkness. We had spent the last few hours hiding in Jughead’s car – which he inconspicuously parked around the block – and I was thankful to be out, Jughead and Cheryl had been engaged in a heated argument over Archie’s innocence which both Betty and I had tried unsuccessfully to break up. Jughead and I were told to watch the house, in case either Archie or Fred decided to come outside for whatever reason, while Betty and Cheryl set to work on Archie’s truck. Within ten minutes they had broken in and had climbed inside, I could hear them rummaging around for any evidence when I heard Cheryl call my name.

“Y/N!” she hissed, “come here!”

Both Jughead and I moved over to the boot of the truck where she was standing. Inside there was a black duffle-bag that Cheryl had unzipped. As Betty shone her torch into it my gaze fell upon two pieces of incriminating evidence; Jason’s iconic letterman jacket and Sherriff Keller’s missing case-files. Before any of us could say anything, or even process what was in front of us, we heard a creak as the back door swung open and Archie emerged, shirtless and wearing a pair of running shorts. I cursed under my breath as Betty shut her torch off and we all ducked behind the truck. Archie jogged past us, clearly wrapped up in his own thoughts as he didn’t notice four teenagers crouched on the ground, and headed down the street.

“Well that isn’t suspicious at all!” Cheryl whispered sarcastically, “It’s not like murderers roam around at night or anything!” For once, Jughead and Betty were both speechless as they failed to find a logical reason for Archie’s midnight outing. Cheryl took this as a confirmation of her suspicions. “Well come on then, lets follow him you morons! He might even lead us straight to the crime scene if we’re lucky.”

“We’re missing something” I whispered, “it’s all too easy Cher! We have found nothing for months and then suddenly three pieces of evidence in one day? I’m not buying it.”

“Well we aren’t going to find anything else just sitting here! Come on!” Jughead whispered urgently as he rose to his feet and sprinted over to his car, beckoning us to follow.


We silently drove behind Archie with our headlights off and staying as far behind him as possible for what seemed like hours. Eventually, he stopped outside a house on the other side of town and proceeded to bang on the door. As we all peered through the passenger side to try and see who answered the door, Cheryl gasped.

“Oh my god! I know whose house this is. It’s that slutty music teacher… Miss Grundy? Jason used to take private piano lessons from her and sometimes I would pick him up from her house.” She whispered excitedly, clearly delighted with herself for providing vital information.

“I don’t think that’s what Archie’s there for” Jughead snorted, “did you ever pick Jason up at midnight after one of these lessons?” He yelped as Cheryl elbowed him maliciously.

“You two stay here and keep watch, me and Betty are going to see if we can get into her car.” I whispered to them, glaring at Cheryl.

A couple of minutes later, Betty and I were sitting in the front seats of Miss Grundy’s car. I raised my eyebrows at her, impressed with her handiwork; she had broken into the car like the perfect criminal. She blushed at my expression.

“Dad and I fix cars together sometimes” she explained, “now look for any evidence, quickly before Archie comes back outside!”

Together we shifted through Miss Grundy’s belongings, carefully replacing everything exactly where we found it to avoid suspicion. Just as I was reaching under the passenger chair, my hands ran over something hard and unusually cool. Pulling it towards me, I realised it was a metal box. I handed it to Betty and retrieved a hair-pin from my messy-bun, quickly unpicking the lock just as Jason had taught me when we were kids. As I opened it, I felt disappointed as I was greeted by scraps of paper, but after I read a couple, I realised that Betty and I were sitting in a crime scene. One piece read:

I was walking home from Y/N’s house last night and I saw Miss Grundy’s car parked on a deserted street. I wouldn’t have thought it out of the ordinary until I noticed that it wasn’t empty, but had two people in it…

I confronted Miss Grundy at my piano lesson this week about what I saw between her and Archie Andrews. She denied it but I know what I saw. I know that she will lose her job, but I’m going to report her to the authorities…

“Oh My God Y/N” Betty stammered as I saw her point at something at the bottom of the metal box, it was a gun. I knew immediately that it was the weapon that had killed Jason as a sick feeling crept over me as looked at it nestling amongst other the scraps of Jason’s journal.

“I think we need to call Sherriff Keller…”

TAGLIST: @kelly27crickett @cjhorseback

Sherlock x reader- Kiddnapped

Originally posted by silent-micka

Well, this took a while to write up, i got writer’s block halfway through and you know how that goes. Hope you guys enjoy!


Y/n groans, turning off her alarm, sighing she rubs the sleep from her eyes. The worst part of the day: getting up for work.
The arm around her waist tightens, pulling her to the warmth against her back, making her even more reluctant to move. Sherlock doesn’t sleep much, but when he does, he still wakes up before the sun…on occasion.
“I have to get ready for work Holmes.” Y/n says, wanting nothing more than to lay back down and fall asleep again, but alas, work to get ready for, bills to be paid. Sherlock’s grip only tightens, raising up slightly to kiss her neck. “I don’t care, stay with me.” he mumbles his lips brushing along her shoulder, causing Y/n to smile. He’s being oddly persistent.
“I can’t,” she sighs, removing his arm from around her, “Take a day then,”
“I took a day yesterday and that was spent solving a case. With you,” Sherlock grumbles softly, allowing her to pull away from him. She turns and kisses his cheek, he frowns at her, watching her with one eye when she pulls away and gets up. “You are seeing me later you know Sherlock.” Y/n says, slipping her arms through his shirt, just in case she goes outside and John’s awake. Spare him the sight of something inappropriate. Sherlock wraps himself in his sheet, turning his back to her, being childish as ever. “Are you getting up? I’ll make you tea before I leave,” Y/n was already halfway through the bedroom door saying this, and Sherlock lets out a half hearted “Yes,” the sound muffled by the sheet.
The girl chuckles, walking out Sherlock’s room and to the living room, where sure enough, John was awake and on his computer, doing something or another. “Morning John, You’re up early,” Y/n greets, smiling at him, “Oh, yeah. I had an early night –is that Sherlock’s shirt?”
Y/n chuckles sheepishly, walking into the kitchen, ignoring his question. By the time Y/n was ready and Sherlock had crawl out of bed, the sun was peaking over the skyline. “Okay boys, no trouble, I’ll be back later.” Y/n gives John a hug and Sherlock a kiss and leaves 221B.

Y/n steps out of the small French café, waving goodbye to her colleagues. London was beautiful at night, it wasn’t as busy as it would be during the day, it was cold, considering that autumn was rolling in. She pulls her coat closer to her body, trying to keep in the warmth as a gust of wind blows by. She pulls her phone from her pocket, scrolling through her messages, two from her mother, two from her uncle, one from Sherlock. She opens his first, because it might just be important. He had texted her twice already earlier to see how she was doing and to tell her that he’d gotten a new case.

We need milk.

Honestly, no one told him to get himself banned from multiple groceries in the area. She changes her route, turning around to go the other way.
After getting milk and a few other necessary things, she was just a block away from Baker street when it happened. Someone approached her quickly from behind, wrapping one hand around her waist and putting a cloth over her mouth and nose. With the lack of air, she couldn’t help but inhale the chloroform.

Sherlock stood by the window, watching out. It’s been a hour since she got off, purchasing a carton of milk does not take that long. John watches as his flat mate pulls out his phone and quickly type something before putting it back into his pocket, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. “What’s bothering you?” He asks, catching Sherlock’s attention, “Nothing.”
“No. You’re worried. I can see it, what’s bothering you?” John sits up, watching Sherlock carefully. Sherlock starts to pace now, not looking at him. “She isn’t answering.” he says simply, as if it’d be obvious. John raises his eyebrows, he knew he was talking about Y/n, he’d seem to worry about her a lot since they’d suddenly become a thing. Which John figured out this morning when he saw the girl in Sherlock’s shirt.
Y/n would always answer her texts, no matter what she’s doing. So it only means that something Is wrong. Sherlock stops pacing when is phone goes off, pulling it from his pocket swiftly to check. It’s Y/n’s number, but it wasn’t her who texted.

She’ll die if you don’t come for her. She just might miss the train if you get here on time Mister Holmes.

Sherlock’s grip on the phone tightens, as he visibly tense up. Spinning around to look at John, his eyes wild, “Y/n…” he mutters before grabbing his coat and storming off, giving John no choice but to follow. There’s one place she would be, a place where no one would see her but trains still run.
Marylebone Rails.
He hails a cab, getting in, John stumbling in seconds after. “Marylebone Rails. Quick.”

Y/n slowly wakes up, becoming painfully aware of the growing pounding in her head and the ringing in her ears. It hurts to breathe, she’s pretty sure her ribs are broken after she woke up a while ago and tried to get away from this goon. She couldn’t feel the ground beneath her feet, or more or less, anything, her arms were numb. Her eyes losing focus, as she stares downwards. “Shit.” She was suspended by rope, that was tied unto a thick metal bar, the train tracks below her.
“Hello there.” a voice says, dripping with polite sarcasm, someone’s footsteps crunching on gravel. “I have a message for Sherlock Holmes.”
When she didn’t answer, the voice continues, “Tell him to drop his current case, and I just might spare you.” She was low enough to the ground, if she could just wrangle out of these ropes. No blood flow through the arms, goodbye plan A. The footsteps move away from here as a train whistle sounds in the distance. “Have fun,” the voice calls sweetly, Okay Y/n, you’ve been in worse situations, you can get out of this one. The pounding in her head became too much, and her eyelids got heavy.
I’m gonna die here.
"Did you think for one moment that my niece could’ve died?!” Lestrade says angrily, the volume of his voice raising as Sherlock stares calmly at him. “Of course. But she’s fine isn’t she?” the detective snaps, he was clearly frustrated over the situation. He’s quite aware that she could’ve died, they got there at just the right time, she was almost ran through by a train. Just Almost.
“Fine? She’s laying in a hospital bed with three broken ribs and a concussion, I don’t exactly call that fine.”
John was desperately trying to quiet them down, since they were standing right outside Y/n’s hospital room. And she won’t be pleased to wake up to this noise. “Would you please just lower your voices?” John pleads, looking between the two of them. The men begin to glare at each other, and if looks could kill, they’d both drop down twice over. “I told you to keep her out of your mess.”
“Well I can’t exactly force her to leave if she wants to stay right?” Greg was very close to losing his temper and knocking him out when a voice calls out.
“Ladies, you can stop fighting over the last pair of red heals now.” Y/n glares at them from her hospital bed, pressing a hand to her forehead, “I already have a headache to deal with, don’t give me a migraine.” John leaves to get a nurse, preferring to stay out of their banter that is surely to occur. “How’re feeling love?” Greg asks, leaning against the door frame, watching her carefully. “I’m good, just hurting though.” share says, raising one of her shoulders in a half shrug, the action causing her to wince. Greg walks into the room, “Who was it?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t see a face. But, they did beat the crap outta me when I put up a fight though.” Y/n chuckles to herself, leaving Greg to wonder how she could say that so casually. Y/n looks past her uncle, in hopes to see Sherlock but when he was standing was just an empty space. “Tell Sherlock if you find him. They said to drop the case, the one he’s working now.”
After a while, Greg had left, and John came back with the Doctor and stayed a little bit before leaving. Y/n settled into the silence of her hospital room, as quiet as it could get with that stupid beeping monitor.
It was much later when Sherlock came back, its not that he didn’t want to see her, he was just angry at himself, for getting her involved. And now she gets hurt as a message to him. Why does the people closest to him always get hurt? This was exactly the reason why he preferred to be alone.
She was awake when he got to her room, albeit very drugged up, the antibiotics the doctors put her on are very strong. “Hey you,” she greets, he walks in, pulling a chair near to her bed. She smiles lightly, offering her hand for him to take, “You’re blaming yourself Sherlock.” she states, narrowing her eyes at him. He sighs, squeezing her hand gently, “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.” Sherlock furrow his eyebrows at this, looking at her curiously, and she smiles, “I should’ve stayed home when you asked.”

Tag list: @cutie1365 

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Goodbye John

Pairing: John Laurens x reader

AN: Day 5 of the Hamilton write-a-thon hosted by @hamwriters

Summary: I don’t really have a description for this one sorry!

Day 5: Reverse POV Day

Words: 809

Warning: Angst; suicide; death; minimum swearing; modern AU


John’s POV

The wind slapped harshly against my face as I ran through the streets of New York.

This can’t be happening, not now! God please don’t do it Y/N. please.

I pushed passed people often time them yelling at me but I didn’t give two fucks about them right now. I needed to get to you. Why did this have to happen? I couldn’t think clearly, the only thing on my mind was Y/N and the letter….that letter.

‘John,’ It began.

‘I’m sorry John. I’m sorry you have to find this letter, I’m sorry that you even met me! The past few weeks have been hard John. I’ve been dealing with things, things I didn’t want you to know but those things have just bit me in the ass and I’m tired John. Tired of fighting off that feeling of worthlessness, of loneliness even if I wasn’t alone. It hurts John. I can’t do it anymore I’m sorry. I love you so much John you have no idea. Please don’t be mad at me over this and don’t blame yourself. I love you and you deserve better. I hope some day you will. By the time you read this I should be dead and gone, if I’m being blunt about it.

I love you, goodbye.’


I swung the door open to the building. It was quiet. Running through another door I bounded up the stairs. I knew you too well. You were on the roof. You always came here to clear your mind and think.

I should have known. God how did I not know you were suffering to the point you wanted to take your own life?! I’m stupid. I should have saw the signs. A million thoughts rushed through my head until I opened the metal door which lead me outside on the roof.

You were the first thing I saw. You stood there on the ledge. Tears brimmed my eyes.

“Y/N.” My voice cracked. But I knew you heard me. Your body tensed when you heard me. Slowly you turned around, your sad broken eyes boring into mine.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Your voice was quiet and weak. It sounded like you were crying and your eyes were red and puffy.

“Why don’t you step down from the ledge so we an talk about this?” I asked cautiously walking closer to you. You shook your head as you began to cry again. “I love you Y/N! Your not worthless, come down so I can show you how important you are.”

“No I can’t. I can’t do it John!” You sobbed turning back around facing away from me.

“Y/N please don’t ! You can, you can do this! Your so strong and so live Y/N. You still have your whole life ahead of you! Think about your family , your friends, me! What about us? How can we live with that? How can I live with myself if you do this?”

“I want to stop the pain!” You cried, as your arms wrapped around your stomach. I was crying too at this point.

“I can help you! But not like this Y/N, if you do this it may stop the pain for you but it won’t for me. You’ll just push that pain onto me, Alex, Herc, everyone!” I yelled that last part. My fists were clenched as my eyes were fixated on you, tears angrily streaming down my face. “Please.” I begged, my voice wobbly.

“I love you.” I could barely hear you but I did. “Goodbye John.” You said. My eyes widened as I scrambled over to you just as you fell.

“NO!” I reached forward as my stomach slammed into the ledge as I reached to grab you but you slipped right through my finger tips. I pushed myself away so I didn’t have to see you but the ground. A loud thump and a car alarm went off below. Falling back on my ass I covered my mouth with my hand as I sobbed.


Those were your last words to me.

I waited until after your funeral, it was closed casket by the way but that was expected.

I waited until later that night when Alex left.

I waited all day to see you again and I’m kinda jittery because it’s been what felt like forever but it’s been a week.

I pushed open the metal door open, walking out on the roof. I waited a few days to come back now here I am. With a quick swig of my beer I walked over to the ledge, setting down the bottle I stood back up and climbed onto the edge. I looked down at quiet street. I can see why you liked coming up here.

I closed my eyes and felt myself slowly fall forward.