i feel like this has a spelling mistake in it somewhere

Candy Hearts

Requested

Based on the word “Inevitable”


Draco’s eleven.

He’s gasping lungs and cracked open ribs as he clutches the acceptance letter in his pocket and glances up at the frost laced rooftops of Diagon Alley, realizes that there’s an entire world beyond the manor walls and he hadn’t even realized it.

He’s eleven and catching sight of her through shop window reflections like crystal balls. Dragging himself into Florish and Bots because there’s curiosity, no, interest, no, enchantment, maybe, ebbing like magic through the whorls of his fingertips. And she’s in his peripheral, schoolbooks clutched to her chest and smile soft, eyes wide and lashes fluttering. Luminescent in the light filtering through the window.

Draco watches as she rolls her sleeves up to her elbows and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, strains on her tiptoes to reach a book on one of the higher shelves and –

“Here,” he says, grabs the book and slips it into her hands. Ignores the spark that catches between their fingertips and tugs, oh yes, he’s close enough to see the color of her eyes like rainbows reflected through a prism, the butterfly soft smile that traps itself against her mouth as she meets his eyes –

Says her name, “Y/N,” like wind chimes or a symphony.

And Draco thinks that it might as well be a spell.

___

Draco’s twelve.

He’s glances cast across a classroom, over his shoulder, when he hopes that nobody is looking. Fingers brushing and elbows knocking and, “Excuse me, I didn’t watch where I was going.” He did, and he’d be lying if he said that touching her felt anything less than a charm.

He’s twelve and he’s the pride swelling in his chest at his first Quidditch match when he can hear her somewhere below him, cheering his name. He tells her that she’s his good luck charm the next day, doesn’t quite catch the blush that suffuses her cheeks before he turns away.

But it’s the last day of term and she’s slipping by him in the train corridor and, “Have a good summer, Draco,” she says, hesitates, brushes her lips against his cheek.

He hadn’t quite believed in magic, until then.

___

Draco’s thirteen.

He’s Blaise’s snickering and Pansy’s knowing looks and jealousy, hot and potent, bubbling like a potion he hadn’t managed to get right in his stomach as Cormac McLagen smirks and smiles and sidles up beside Y/N in the Great Hall during breakfast one day.

He’s thirteen and he’s fucking captivated as snowflakes dust Y/N’s lashes and the wind twirls the ends of her scarf, as she wipes butterbeer from her upper lip and giggles at something that one of her friends whispers into her ear.

“I’ll help you back,” he offers, seizes a chance, when her friends have run ahead of her on the path back to the castle.

And she smiles at him, tucks an arm through the crook of his elbow. Tells him about the trouble she’s been having in Transfiguration lately and if she can’t figure it out her parents will have her head for sure and –

“I can tutor you, if you’d like,” he says, wonders if Blaise had spiked his pumpkin juice with Felix Felicis that morning. Hopes that she can’t feel his heartbeat through the jut of his elbow.

“I’d love that,” she replies.

And he can’t quite believe his luck.

___

Draco’s fourteen.

He’s library desks cluttered with books and ink blotches, Madam Pince’s furious hushing when he and Y/N forget to be quite. The way light streaks and shimmers around her, distorted as though they’re drowning in the Black Lake.

He’s fourteen and strangely, oddly hopeful as he clasps her fingers, marvels at the fit of her hand in his, shows her the correct hand motion and heart stops, starts, stutters when she doesn’t quite pull away.

“I aced my last test,” she tells him, runs towards him in the corridor, throws her arms around his neck till he can feel her heartbeat crash against his.

“I guess you don’t need a tutor anymore then,” he says. A frown is burgeoning on the cusp of his mouth.

“No, no,” she says hurriedly. “I still do.”

And he isn’t sure why he hasn’t transfigured this, them into something else yet.

___

Draco’s fifteen.

He’s the firewhiskey on his lips and the castle floor on the palms of his hands as he reaches forward and spins the bottle yes, hopes, wonders, waits as it spins, spins, lands on her, oh yes.

He’s fifteen and he’s the lip-gloss on her lips, the way they crash head on like a train-wreck, a car crash and he doesn’t have an algorithm for this: him, her, the kiss.

Because her mouth fits neatly against his and she tastes like melted sugar, like cotton candy, all soft edges and fluttering pulse points. His eyes are closed and he can’t quite believe/ only he can, he’d rigged the game.

Afterwards, afterwards, afterwards:

He pulls her into a broom cupboard and threads his fingers through her hair, tastes butterbeer on her tongue and feels his tonsils glued together because this is a secret and he can’t quite find the right words to say.

But things are different, they’re different and he holds her hands as he walks her to class, kisses her across the tabletop in Honeydukes and grabs her, twirls her after Quidditch matches. He wraps his scarf around her neck and they pass notes in class, sit at the top of the astronomy tower at night and map out the handful of constellations that they know.

It’s this: him, her, and how he hadn’t anticipated that the winds would change.

___

Draco’s sixteen.

He’s late night kisses and early morning platitudes, worried questions and, “Draco, I know something’s wrong.” The mark on his arm and the worry that’s coiled tight in his gut as he attempts to keep it covered up.

He’s sixteen and he’s breaking, the world too heavy on Atlas’ shoulders. Because he has a noose around his neck and he can’t do it, can’t, can’t, can’t.

They lose their virginity to each other the night before he’s meant to kill Dumbledore. And it’s like falling through a pensieve to a memory he didn’t know he had; soft lips and rolling hips and gasps, teeth, fingers fit neatly in the groove of her waist.

Here’s how it goes:

A girl, a boy, a tragedy. He’s Icarus and she’s the sun and it’s not her that kills him, oh no, it’s the ocean and melted wax dripping down his back.

He tells her ‘I love you’ before he tells him ‘I have to kill you’.

And there’s a green light and he’s Gatsby and he’s never managed to reach what he wanted, no, has only ever been a cautionary tale.

He’s sixteen and he’s a mistake, a heartbreak, the boy who made all the wrong choices.

___

Draco’s seventeen.

He’s the shards of a broken chandelier stuck in his mouth, his hands, vocal chords torn to ribbons as lights flash green and screams echo through the hallowed corridors of the manor. The letters he’d sent her that don’t have a reply, the ragged stitches of a heart never meant to mend.

He’s seventeen and the room of requirement is burning around him, life flashing before his eyes, flames licking at his heels. It’s her, her, her. And Crabbe’s gone, the room is charred but it’s not over yet, is never over.

There’s blood on his hands and in his throat when he sees her again. When he grabs her, yells, watches as a Death Eater’s body crumbles to the floor.

Her palm is sweaty against his, breaths ragged and tears sooty.

There’s a war raging around them and he finds that he doesn’t quite care.

___

Draco’s eighteen.

He’s the faded mark on his arm and the ring in his pocket and the happiness – cautious, unsure, new – that permeates the walls of his new home with her. Because the war is over and the world is still turning.

He’s eighteen and he’s a happy ending, maybe, a fairytale that didn’t quite end with them riding off into the sunset but ended like this instead: him and her and he thinks that that’s all he ever really needed.

Bumbleby and the Evolution of “Beauty and the Beast”

I’m just going to go ahead and get these disclaimers out of the way: 

  • Yes, I know that Yang Xiao Long is primarily inspired by the fairy tale of Goldilocks. 
  • Yes, I know that Rooster Teeth isn’t out to recreate every single fairy tale or myth or historical figure’s story that inspires the individual characters of RWBY
  • And yes, RWBY is a show that is about far more than just romance or any one relationship. 

Is everyone good on that? Yes? Awesome, then let’s get this show on the road!

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It all falls apart.. Black Sails Season Four Episode Nine

So, in the spirit of honesty, this was a difficult recap to write. I had anticipated it being so because Luke Arnold was so excited for us to see it. He described it as his favorite episode ever and I was positively giddy to view it. After viewing, I get why he loved it. The flashbacks were beautifully shot, the fighting was some of the best I’ve seen in four seasons and that scene between Madi and Woodes Rogers was chilling. Zethu was absolutely brilliant in it, but that one scene summed up pretty much everything I loved and struggled to love regarding this episode.

We start off the episode with a flashback of Silver walking to meet Flint on a hilltop. It’s evident that it’s a flashback scene because Silver still has his metal leg. We find out that Flint has summoned Silver to teach him how to “fight and not die”. The reason that this is so important now is because the invasion of Nassau is a few weeks away. Flint gingerly tells Silver that it would be better if he learned to fight with a crutch and is surprised when Silver doesn’t fight him on this. Clearly, the purpose of the scene is to show the trust that has developed between the two men since the Fireside confession in 3x10.

~ When the fighting truly begins all that matters is what makes for the greatest advantage~ Flint

~ The men, I have to manage how they see me. I understand that’s part of my job, but for pride to be an issue between you and I well, I think we’re plain past that by now. Don’t you? Do you really imagine that a few weeks of this is going to make that much difference? Am I not what I am at this point? ~ Silver

~ It’s better than nothing.~ Flint

~ You’re not concerned about this? ~ Silver

~ Concerned? ~ Flint

~ Well, you say you’ll be teaching me to fight. But if every man fights differently, seems to me what you’ll really be teaching me is how to defeat you.~ Silver

~ I’ll take my chances. Shall we? ~ Flint

When we return to the present, we see Silver traveling on a launch. He is heading to Skeleton Island to  join Hands and the six man crew in their search of Flint. Silver mentions to Hands that the Governor gave him until sunrise to deliver the cache. Silver voices that he has doubts that the Governor will actually keep his word though. He knows that he is up to something. He just isn’t sure what that is.

While Silver and Hands are having this conversation, Rogers is seen asking Billy who he thinks will be the victor between Silver and Flint. Billy states that Silver has the men, motivation, etc… However, Flint is Flint, and he is at his best when backed into a corner. He encourages the Governor not to wait and see this thing done himself. Honestly, I thought at this point, I’d be over being disappointed by Billy. I’m not. Seeing Billy actively plotting and orchestrating the death of his brothers is painful. Little did we know that this was just the tip of the iceberg for him though. There is much more pain to come. Rogers surprises everyone by saying that he would like to speak to Madi and to have her brought to him. Billy, with all his false bravado, tells him that Madi will never accept a compromise. Rogers quickly reminds him that he is a means to an end and that he needs to remain useful or else end up dead. So essentially, play your position.

In the next scene we flashback to Maroon Island and Silver training with Flint. Somewhere in the midst of sweat flying, it dawns on Flint that Silver knows “his story, his past”,  but he doesn’t know Silver’s. Silver repeats the story that he has told many times. He’s from White Chapel. Never knew his mother and grew up in an orphanage. Flint scoffs at that and tells him that he doesn’t believe it’s true and he encourages Silver to tell him the truth. Silver states it’s not important and yet Flint expresses disbelief that Silver refuses to share his past. Silver looks unnerved with the line of questioning and leaves.

Back again in the present, Flint attacks three of the men on his trail and kills them. We then see Jack sailing with his crew to find Skeleton Island.

And then we see the Queen… She’s been brought up to Rogers and she’s looking as defiant as ever. But wait… the two aren’t alone. Ghost Eleanor is sitting in the corner knitting because evidently she has unfinished business here. I’m assuming she’s his conscience now. Too bad it only took hundreds of women, men and children dying, including his own, for him to get one.  Rogers starts off the conversation from a position of power and intimidation standing directly behind Madi. Little does he know, the Queen doesn’t really do scare tactics. I guess he didn’t decipher that from their last interaction.


~ You have no idea the restraint this takes. How urgent the instinct toward violence. How certain the conviction that it would be deserved, given what you and your partners have destroyed, what you’ve taken from me. To me, compromise seems a loathsome, unbearable act. What compromise can there be with the man responsible for the death of my wife? Or with those who follow him? You’re luckier than you know. So much luckier than you know that in this moment I can still hear the faintest of voices in my head arguing against the alternative. If I must compromise to avert a dark end, then so must you. I’ve offered you freedom for your people. I have offered you more than you have any right to expect. And still, you will not say yes. So I come to you one last time to ensure you cannot say no. Accept the treaty….~ Rogers

Madi interrupts him mid sentence. Just cuts him the hell off. Queen was like I’m tired of all this pontificating.

~ I will consider no treaty of yours.~ Madi

~…. and John Silver lives. Refuse and he dies. Along with the rest of the men who followed him here. And from what I understand, he is the one who matters most to you. The one with whom you might lead a life if you can set aside your pride in this moment. Do not make the same mistake I did. Do the deal.~ Rogers

~ The voice you hear in your head. I imagine I know who it sounds like as I know Eleanor wanted those things. But I hear the voices. A chorus of voices. Multitudes. They reach back centuries. Men and women and children who’d lost their lives to men like you. Men and women and children forced to wear your chains. I must answer to them and this war. Their war. Flint’s war. My war. It will not be bargained away to avoid a fight, to save John Silver’s life or his men’s or mine. And you believe what you will, but it was neither I nor Flint nor the Spanish raider who killed your wife. That, you did.~ Madi


I’ve always known Queen Madi Scott was special. Quite honestly, she is probably one of the best characters on television. A lot of that is due to writing, but Zethu is mesmerizing in this role. I watched this scene and wept. I wept for the pure defiance in her eyes. The conviction. The Calling. Yes, I said Calling. Like never before, Madi made me feel that she’s doing God’s work. In this moment, she is fighting to free her people. She’s fighting for the ones who died at the bottom of ships on the passage over. She’s fighting for the ones who made it over and lived in chains. She’s fighting for the ones who are “free” like her, but still aren’t and she fighting so that her children won’t have to. In this scene, Madi spelled out in no uncertain terms that Madi’s war, her Calling, is about freeing her people and making the world a better place for  them.

I wept for another reason though. I wept because of the lip quiver. I wept because of the heaving chest and the quick swallowing. I wept because of the watery eyes. I wept because in one brief moment, we saw Madi Scott, the woman. Not the Queen of the Maroons or a Leader in the Revolution. We saw Madi that young girl who fell in love with a silver tongued, one legged Pirate. I wept because Madi in that moment realized that this war might take her love’s life as payment and she accepted that possibility. Not just that John’s life might be forfeited, but hers and her people’s as well. Again, she didn’t choose this war over Silver’s life. She chose her Calling of freeing her enslaved people over EVERYTHING. Freedom ain’t never been free. People have always had to die for it. That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love John with everything in her soul. It just means that she has to realize that she was lucky enough to fall in love with a man who supports her Calling. And he does.. He proved that when he punished Billy. He proved that when he broke those chains at Underhill. He proved that with his respect of the Queen Mother and Ruth. Silver is more than ready to accept her Calling and his. Madi just needs to realize it. As a said before, freedom ain’t free, but sometimes there can be another way. Sometimes the entire world and everyone in it doesn’t have to burn. If anyone is smart enough to find a way, it’s Madi and Silver together.


Honestly, I could just stop here, because that scene was hard and I’m tired as fuck. But alas, The King is still searching for Flint and the cache. We next see him and Hands standing over the bodies of the men that Flint has killed. Silver is pissed and cursing Flint. Hands ain’t having it. He reminds John that both he and Billy tried to warn him that Flint ain’t shit and ain’t ever going to be shit. He also  tells him that Flint will show up, spin a damn tale and your loyal ass “will not have learned a got damn thing”. He’s right too. Our blue-eyed Bae is loyal as hell to Captain Ginger and that self serving bastard has never deserved it, but yet here we are. Silver than has a moment of clarity and realizes that he may know where Flint has went.

We then see Flint and Dooley carrying the chest. Dooley is expressing concerns over Silver’s ability to remain a part of the alliance. Flint assures him that once Madi is safe, Silver will be fine, but Dooley disagrees. He believes that Silver may be permanently compromised and when the time comes he will deal with it so that Flint won’t have that burden on his soul. Dooley, sweetheart, Flint killed Gates with his bare hands. That motherfucker doesn’t mind doing the wet work. Just saying.

In the next flashback, the training continues. We see Silver telling Flint a whole lot of nothing about his backstory. Clearly, Silver’s backstory isn't relevant to his present life. And Jesus, wept or at least I did. I waited four years for this and got Zilch, Nada, Nothing.

So, we’ve reached the fucked me up portion of the recap. In the present day, Joji and one of the crew encountered Flint and Dooley. Flint kills the crew member, while Joji fights Dooley. Joji, a real friend to the end, harms Dooley just enough to put him out of commission. He could have killed his brother and chooses not to. Not Flint, though. No sir. He did what he always does. He kills Joji. In what world could Flint beat Joji in a sword fight? R.I.P, Joji, my Silent Bae. I loved you.

As this is happening, we see members of Rogers crew swimming to the Walrus, where they proceed to light it on fire. They also untie all the launches so the men can’t escape. So you see, Madi not trusting Roger’s word was kind of a safe bet. Roger’s word doesn’t men shit. Ask his wife and child. I’ll wait. Mr. De Groot gives the abandon ship command and my heart breaks. This ain’t gon’ end well.

Hands and Silver spot Flint and Hands rushes down to stop him. More fighting ensues and Flint gets the best of Hands and knocks him out. Yeah, you read that right. Hands, the Ginger Savage, was bested by Flint. You really can’t make this shit up. Silver finally makes it and demands that Flint tell him where the treasure is. Flint says the treasure is in the ground and it will remain there until Madi is free and they gather it and return it to the camp.

~ I know you cannot see why this must be. But it must be. And every moment we waste is a moment we could be working to retrieve her.~ Flint

~ That’s all this has ever been, isn’t it? A partnership only insofar as it enables you to do whatever it is that matters to you in any given moment. And right now it matters far less to you whether she lives or dies than it happens your way, on your terms.~ Silver

~ I think you know it’s far more complicated than that. I’m certain she does. Even if you could kill me, even if that somehow helped you see her alive again, how are you going to explain it to her? She believes in this as much as I do. You know this. If it costs the war to save her, you’ll have lost her anyway. Even you cannot construct a story to make her forgive you that. You do this and you’re gonna regret it.~ Flint

Well, clearly those were fighting words, because Silver drew his sword and the fight commenced. But before we proceed, let’s rehash some things. Flint just implied to Silver that he knew Madi better than him. Marinate on that… Flint told Silver that Madi would essentially side with him. She would want this war to go on in spite of everything. But…. Madi is fighting for her people’s freedom. She fighting for the “greater good”. Flint on the other hand, is not. Flint is fighting to destroy England because he loved and lost. THAT.IS.IT. So someone explain to me like I’m a toddler, how are Madi’s Calling and Flint’s Revenge Campaign the same? I’ll wait. So back to the task at hand, Dooley shows up to the fight and attempts to shoot Silver. Flint kills him to prevent it and then an explosion occurs. It’s the Walrus. It’s completely engulfed in flames and the men are being shot dead in the water as they abandon ship. Leading this slaughter is Billy. I don’t have the words. De Groot is shot in the head, but Billy spares Gunn. For, not the last time, I wept. All these dead bodies in the water. Men that I watched and loved for four seasons are now dead. Dead because there can only be one way and that’s Flint way.


Silver flashbacks to this beautiful moment of him and Madi. It looks as though, they are eating together back on Maroon Island before all the Death and Destruction happened. Madi looks so young and innocent and Silver is obviously trying to reassure her that Flint means him no ill will…

~ Can’t you see it? It isn’t utility that’s behind his investment in me nor necessity nor dependency. I understand you fear a false motive. But this much is clear to me now.. I have earned his respect. And after all the tragedies that man has suffered….. the loss of Thomas, the events of Charles Town. I have earned his trust. I have his true friendship and so he is going to have mine. And as long as that is true, I cannot imagine what is possible.~ Silver

Deep sigh…. Silver speaks of his friend with such deep respect and admiration. He even seems a little in awe that Captain Flint, chose him of all people to trust with a true friendship. This is why we needed Silver’s backstory. This is why it was so important to know what happened in his past that would make him sacrifice so much for a man that has never done the same for him. That said… the scene once again showed that Silver truly does love Madi above all else. There is nary a secret between them and I would assume that would also include his backstory. It’s so clear why this man will fight the Devil himself to see Madi returned. She is his everything.

This episode was hard guys. Hard because honestly, we are left with more questions than answers and we only have one episode to get them. One episode until it’s all said and done.

Sparks Chapter 8

Originally posted by kelsyryannisalion

Pairing: Bucky(POV) X Reader(POV) ft. other characters from avengers team

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: Bucky and y/n have a almost moment at the Tower’s Halloween party. But, they are interrupted with news of a potential bio-attack in Time Square. It’s up to y/n to disable the bomb and save the city.

A/N: This is a story about two people building a great friendship and then slowly falling in love. y/n is a strong, independent, and smart scientist. She meets Bucky when she wakes him up from cryo sleep and they become friends. This is going to have all the angst / best friends falling in love / fluff / drama / & eventual smut ;) that I can possibly fit in it. This fic is going to be looong! So far my document is like 66 pages. So editing is hard If you catch any grammatical or formatting errors let me know.

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Felicity Smoak&Oliver Queen - I got my job back

Note: so you all know I’m upset about 5x15 and all the 5′s before that so this is not going to be happy, but strangely there’s some hope in there somewhere. This is going to be a one fic at least for another couple of weeks, for this cuts it close with the Show.

Synopsis: Felicity Smoak watchs as Oliver Queen labels Green Arrow as a Cop Killer while she’s doing all she can to get Susan her job back… and the rational thinking comes flowding in… unstoppable.


The pain just added to the pile inside making her numb. Green Arrow was a killer, by Oliver Queen own admission, Green Arrow had murdered Billy.

It took Oliver spelling it out for the full impact of the word to dawn on her, Oliver had murdered Billy. The Oliver that just asked her to help his girlfriend out, just admitted on Public Television he, has Green Arrow, murdered her boyfriend.

More over for almost five years she was blinded to the truth, an the truth that was now clear was that, she, Felicity Smoak, had been aiding and abiding a murdered, a Cop Killer. Her cop, her Billy, the Billy that was everything Oliver never had been, not to her anyway, supportive of all her actions, caring, protecting, trushworthy.

It dawns her how far she had gone in her own self-deceit. Before she met Oliver she was on her way to be a Computer Expert and free time Hacker of excellence, then she met Oliver and she embarked on his and Diggle mission, after a time she felt it was her own mission too.

The all relationship was a mistake. She was happy, yes, but it was so easy for him to let her go, so easy.

Oliver took her losses has mission hazards and she lost a lot.  She could see it now, in the way Oliver fought to get Susan her job back, she could see it as clear as day how much of a sham it all was.

With a deep breath, holding the tears, she made the rational in her come forward. It was no use to cry over what past she could only act to prevent it happening again. The phone was in her hand before she knew what she was doing.

“Can we meet?”

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Oath | Ch.23.2 | Jungkook

Genre: Angst | Mafia!AU

Members: Jungkook | You/Reader | Yoongi | Taehyung | Namjoon | Hoseok | Jin | Jimin |

Summary: What if one day everything you ever wanted is taken away and your whole world comes crushing down? If you were to forget today, who would you be tomorrow?

Originally posted by berry852

| Previous Chapter | Chapter List | Next Chapter |

Word count: 4,644

A/N: I am so pleased with how this one turned out. Although I am not so sure about the ending, I might not like it in a day or two, but I really wanted to post it so I had to go with this. As always, thank you for reading my story, I hope you enjoy this part as well, and have a great day/ evening! ^^

D-DAY

“So you’re finally showing your real face…” Jimin’s low voice scared the life out of you. “Traitor,” the disgust in his voice was triggering you somehow.

“I’m not…” you were too panicked to even make a sentence.

It was as if ever since Jungkook showed up everything turned upside down for you within the group. Everyone kept pushing you away from him, accusing you of stuff you did not do, doubting your loyalty, and always keeping you under their radar. It was exhausting.

“You’re not what? So you want to tell me you weren’t thinking of running away just now?” he was taking slow steps towards you, crushing the grass under his boots. “I’m not Taehyung, Y/N, you can’t fool me with your pretty eyes and sweet words. I can see right through your bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit!” you raised your voice.

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As fandom celebrates the engagement between Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov, somewhere between worlds, Yuuri Shibuya is feeling suddenly insignificant, as if this other Yuuri has usurped his throne and far surpassed his legacy.

“Woah, hold on,” he says.  “I’ve been engaged to Wolfram since the first light novel was released in 2000, and now these guys come along and try to upstage us??  Wow, rude.”

People are having none of it.

“But you proposed by mistake,” they say.

“But you aren’t really in love with Wolfram,” they say.

Yuuri ignores the first comment because he can’t really deny it, and also engagement rings in Barcelona are a lot more romantic than a slap across the face over the dinner table, so he knows he’s already lost there.  Instead, he focuses on the whole “in love” thing, because he doesn’t think anyone else has any business trying to determine how he feels one way or the other.  Also, baseball season ended weeks ago, so he’s feeling a bit pent up competitively, and this seems like a great opportunity for some good old-fashioned sportsmanship or something, even if he feels more defensive than sportsman-like at the moment.

He considers going over everything he and Wolfram have ever done for one another.  That whole “I’ll fall with you” thing still has to carry some weight, doesn’t it?  Then he calls to mind every instance in which he ever waxed poetic about Wolfram over the span of seventeen novels, but he knows it’ll take too long to cover it all.  He starts mumbling something about “the sun” and “looks like an angel” and ends up going on another mental tangent about how Wolfram’s the most beautiful person he’s ever met, but because it happens in his head, no one hears a word of it.

Wolfram comes to the rescue.

“You know what we have that Viktuuri doesn’t have?” Wolfram says.

“What?” Yuuri wonders.

Wolfram’s answering grin is wide with pride.  “A daughter,” he says.

Yes.  Yes!!  That’s it, Yuuri thinks.  He and Wolfram have Greta, and no matter how much fandom might like to pretend Yuri Plisetsky is Viktuuri’s son, they have no official adoption papers to make that situation anything more than a silly delusion.

“What would I do without you, Wolfram?” Yuuri asks.

“Still come in first place instead of fourth, because as much as I hate to admit it, you don’t really need me to take care of you, even if you are an idiot.”

Yuuri and Wolfram high five one another and go have a picnic with their legally adopted daughter.

The next day, the kingdom’s newspaper runs an article about how they’re more in love than ever.

Wolfram smirks and dangles a marriage contract in Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri knows he doesn’t need to sign it to prove anything.

(Somewhere in the depths of the internet, a small but annoyingly loud part of fandom suddenly rises up and says, “But wait. Even if Wolfram still looks and acts really young, he’s actually 66 years older than Yuuri, so that’s pedophilia.”

It’s actually not pedophilia, because neither of them are pre-pubescent kids, and humans and demons age at such different rates that Earthen standards don’t really apply in the Great Demon Kingdom, but this small and annoyingly loud part of the fandom doesn’t care about accuracy. They grasp their pitchforks and begin their war anew.)

Barter

Originally posted by pandasubaru

(NOT my gif/s)(NOT my characters except reader)

Pairings: Bucky (Demon!Bucky) x Reader

Summary; AU- Sorcery it’s a farce. At least that’s what you thought before your little sister, Wanda, found an old magic book and decide to try a spell so his crush fell in love with her. To your atonishment and hers the spell works and now she has to face the drawback; she has sold her soul to a demon called Bucky in exchange the favor. Now, you are forced to intervene and reach an agreement with said demon.

Warnings: Language, angry Bucky and angry reader, SMUT, sex scenes, oral, penetration and all kind of sexy things, angels, demons and all kind of religious stuff.

A/N; YAAASS, nothing to add. Oh, and sorry for the grammar mistakes, I swear  i don’t see them until I post… :/

Tags;  @bexboo616 @minaphobia @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x  @hollycornish  @jenn0755  @imgettingmarriedtobuckybarnes  @cry-me-a-fkin-river  (tags are open!)


Chapter1   Chapter2   Chapter3  Chapter4  Chapter5  Chapter6


Chapter 7

- Y/N - he greets not tearing his gaze apart from Sam, who’s really annoyed for the interruption - I would like to talk to you. Alone.

- Dude, get the fuck away - Sam stands up - We were having a moment there, ya know? - Oh my God, no.

- Sam… - you warn when Bucky tilts his head reminding you as a predator. His aura dangerously similar to the one he had with Marcus - Why don’t you go inside? I’ll come in a moment - you push him not wanting your friend to get hurt

- Yeah Sam, why don’t you go inside? - Bucky mocks and you glare at him

- The fuck did you say, man? - Sam approaches him prepared to fight. Oh fuck no, you know he doesn’t have a chance againts Bucky

- Go inside Sammy, the dame is asking nice. I won’t - Bucky growls and you can see how his pupils start to dilate

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Tumblr needs to learn...

…that just because a character reminds you of someone, THEY ARE NOT THAT PERSON!

Same goes for characters you identify with. Its great that you’ve found a character to connect with, but they are not you.

I’m really sick of seeing posts like “this character reminds me of my abuser, why do people like them?”

Because the world doesn’t revolve around you. Other people don’t have access to your specific memories. We’re not a hive mind, even if fandom mentality tries to prove otherwise.

Yeah, it sucks that a character reminds you of someone negative in your life. But that character shouldn’t be blamed for that. I know that’s a difficult thing to do, because if something does have that “this reminds me off…” feel to it, you have a kneejerk reaction to it. Be it good or bad.

But you don’t get to use your specific history to police what other people like. Being an abuse victim is not an “I win” button. Because, guess what? You’re not alone. On the other side, there’s other people who may have similiar experiences. In fact, there’s a big chance that there are.

So when you use your specific history to “win” an argument/discussion, you are essentially saying that your history is more important than anyone elses. And, sorry, but it isn’t. You are the main character in your own story, not anyone else’s. Everyone has survived something, you are not unique. Its harsh, but true.

Don’t wanna see a specific character or topic? Blacklist it. Block it. Its your own responsibility to keep yourself free from whatever topic upsets you. Not anyone else’s.

Another argument I see a lot is “Jasper is an abuser, because I was abused” which…….do I really have to point out the flaws in that argument? Ok, maybe Jasper ticks of some warning signs for you. That sucks. But Jasper is not that person. And you are the only one who might have that reaction to her. Other people might find her to be a character they can identify with. Your experiences are not more valid than theirs.

What makes this argument worse is that certain posters that use this argument will also make stuff up to further their argument and, yes, the “I was abuser” WILL be in there somewhere. Because fandom thinks that that makes them some kind of authority on the subject. News flash, you’re not.

This attitude has led to other people feeling like they have to divulge their personal history in order to be allowed to counter-argue. And that is such bullshit. Like I said, your personal history is not an “I win” button. Its not about you!

Its gotten to the point where whenever I see posts that start with “I’m a abuse survivor…” I immediately check out. Because at this point, those posts are not going to be an interesting take on a character, a plot point or a story. It will instead be an entitled rant about why OP is right and why everyone else should agree, peppered with “I’m an abuse survivor” as a way to silence everyone who might disagree.

The people on Tumblr needs to realize three main things:

1) A character reminding you of someone doesn’t make them that person. That’s an association fallacy.

2) Your personal history is not an “I win” button. Its not unique, other people might have a similiar history. And theirs is just as valid as yours, so listen instead of talking over them.

3) Last, but not least: Its not about you!

No one can have you, except me…

 WinWin as your teacher, smut, you dominating, naughty girl spotted

Requested by one of my followers, I’ll keep her in mind for owing me a Win Win flavor ice cream :D If you guys love it, I can write a next chapter, but maybe I’ll leave it here. PS: I used my all time fav gif of him. 

Enjoy reading!


Your first semester finally began. Before getting assigned to your classes, you had to choose an optional course. College life was more complicated than you thought, because your schedule was really chaotic and even like that you were still obliged to choose one more course… Since you arrived pretty late at your university, there was no free opening for other optional courses, except for the Chinese classes so you had to go with that…feeling a bit bitter since it wasn’t actually what you wanted.

So the day to start your Chinese classes finally has come. As soon as you arrived at your classroom, you saw a group of girls giggling and flirting in the front with your teacher, but you couldn’t see clearly his face.

You took a seat in the back and waited for the class to start, busier to put your textbooks in order and take out your dictionary, choosing carefully pens of every color since you needed to keep a track of the new words you would learn. 

When you lifted your head, you put your glasses to see better the board since you were a bit far and for your surprise, you exchanged glances with your teacher. He was a young and tall man, in his 20’s, named Dong Si Cheng.

He would keep looking at you till he completed his introduction and after he finished, he told everyone to open their textbook and read in silence the first assignment, before he would start to teach you.

You saw him then coming towards you and suddenly you started to feel nervous. What if you did something wrong? Like, what it’s happening? You were attentive and watched carefully every move of him, he couldn’t scold you for any reason.

Other flirty girls turned their head back to see what he was going to do, sending you death glares. You weren’t glamorous and stylish like them, why would their hot teacher even approach a plain girl like you?

Excuse me miss, can you stand up please?” he asked you out of nowhere. What was he trying to do? You were shy by nature, so attracting other people’s attention was the worst thing could happen to you…especially in a classroom you didn’t know anyone at all.

You stood up as he told you, keeping your head down.

Oh now I see it clearly! You can sit down now.

What was that??? Why did he do that embarrassing thing in front of the other students? You thought you would die inside!!

He then approached you a took one of your colored pen (a pink one) and wrote a Chinese character “爱” on your notebook.

“You know, the character on your shirt, it’s spelled wrong, I don’t know where you bought it, but you should go and ask for a refund” smiling while he returned back to his place and continued his lesson.

You were left without words, while others laughed at your funny situation. That was the most embarrassing moment…and it had to happen on your first day. You just wanted to run away and hide.

Back at night when you arrived at home, you searched in your dictionary and found out the meaning of the character he wrote was “Love”. Somehow your heart began to act weird at the thought of how he approached you and wrote that on your notebook…you closed your eyes and imagined only him, without no one around you, reminiscing his mild perfume and strong breath…Ahhh you were starting to have weird things about him.

For some good weeks you tried really hard to keep up with his classes but you were always last. Watching him every time, drove you mad day by day and your mind was somewhere far away…you couldn’t focus at all.

Many naughty thoughts were trespassing your mind, although you were shy in real life, you could swear that if you had the chance you would catch him off the guard and not let him go…because he made you crazy, his gaze when he was focusing on you while trying his best to explain the things…. made you feel hotter and hotter and you had to come out with a plan and make a step – it was now, or never.

It was a stormy day and after your Chinese class ended, you finally took your courage and asked him if you could go to his office later, to help you with some question from your homework, since now you had your regular courses to attend and didn’t have time. He agreed and told you he actually wanted to ask you that earlier, because he felt like you needed his help. You blushed a bit and carried on with your schedule, thinking about how to approach him later and make him yours…

Everyone was in a hurry since there were no classes left and outside the storm worsened. You headed to your teacher office, while people were passing by you in the opposite way…one by one, everyone headed home before the weather condition would get worse. But you had to carry on with your “seduction plan”. You couldn’t wait longer and this was your opportunity since you were practically left alone. As you climbed the stairs, you could only hear your footsteps and the thunder outside. There was no one left in the building. Except you and Si Cheng professor…

You arrived in front of his office and knocked at the door. With a clear voice, he asked you to come in. As soon as you entered his office, you could see it was pretty cozy, decorated with paintings inspired by Chinese art and it was very neat and clean. He asked you to take a seat beside him, as he pulled a chair for you, telling you it was better being by his side so he could correct your writing every time you would make a mistake.

Suddenly you couldn’t think of making any move, he was really serious about teaching you and you were nothing of special, you thought. You were just a normal girl, you had your own charms, but not in a seductive way like your glamorous classmates…your self-esteem dropped down in a second.

You took the seat near him and opened your textbooks and started your study session with him beside you…for some good hours you spent the time only studying with Si Cheng professor correcting your mistakes. He was praising how good you were doing this time and felt proud it helped you to improve your Chinese learning.

As he suggested a short break, before finishing the last part of your homework, you heard a sudden thunderclap sound, and scared, you literally jumped on his lap holding him tight. You were really, really scared because of the sound and your heart was beating fast… Thunders were the scariest things you could not bear in your life…

But you realized after a while you were actually on top of your teacher, grabbing him by his neck, with him holding your hips, surprised at your unexpected reaction…

Before saying anything, you kissed him abruptly…you had to do it before regretting it for the rest of your life. If he made you embarrassed from the first day, you thought you could bear it a little more till the end of semester…

He took your head into his hands and pushed you, looking a bit flustered…

What are you doing? Do you even realize what you just did? I am your professor; we can’t have this type of relationship…

I’m sorry teacher, but I can’t bear it anymore…it was you who wrote the “Love” character in my notebook and in my heart since the first day. It is your fault and now I’ll have to punish you for this. From this moment, I’m not your student anymore. I am just a woman who wants to crush your feeling just like you did it with me all this time” finally you released your thoughts along with your wild self.

He was left at a loss of words… You continued to kiss him back and unbutton his shirt, while your hands were slowly going down to release his belt. He then gave in with the feeling and stuck out his tongue to kiss you harder. His hands slowly pushed you to stand up and undress your pants as you took off the shirt by yourself. You felt reassured, at least you wore a decent underwear this day, you couldn’t face another awkward moment…one more time and you could be called the “Queen of embarrassing situations” …

You stripped all of his clothing and pushed him back on his chair, while you rolled down slowly your panties. He started to touch himself watching you teasing him…your mind has gone blank in a second, like there was another person taking over your body.

Never, ever you would imagine yourself being a dirty and naughty girl…but here you were. Sitting in your teacher’s lap all naked and horny, while he pushed himself into you…

You took the lead and started to twirl while going up and down on him, with your hands grabbing his black moist hair. His mouth opened slowly leaving out shouts of pleasure and you could see clearly his beautiful white teeth…his plump lips were desirable and you started to lick them again, for his pleasure…

I hope you could be the first and the last of me! Promise me one thing, please be my secret mentor… I just want to do everything with you…” you whispered while you were biting his ear lobe.

You…you…you…. just need to lead me, I’ll be here for you…” he stuttered as he felt his climax coming.

You released your deep breathing and slowed down for him to regain his consciousness since you overworked him like there was no tomorrow…

I can take you to places you still don’t know, so please remember this moment…No one can have you, except me…Do you understand what I mean, Si Cheng?” it was the first time you called him by his name.

He showed a pleased expression and nodded as an approval since he still couldn’t breathe properly and talk after all the over-pleasure you gave him.

You dressed yourself quickly, then kissed his forehead. Outside, the storm seemed to have calmed and since it was pretty late you needed to go back to your home.

Tomorrow, come over for your study session, you still need to improve your writing. I’ll bring some good books for you…oh never mind. Please come to this address when you finish your classes, we will have some dinner before… “he wrote quickly on a piece of paper and handed it to you before leaving.  Actually it was his house address…so exciting!

He hugged and gave you a peck before leaving, suddenly leaving you shy about what you did…You were slowly coming back to your normal-self…Did you have any personality disorder? … No, no, you thought better, you actually did everything you have planned all this time…without regret!

When you arrived at home and crawled in your bed, after taking a long hot shower, you couldn’t stop thinking about how good it felt. You were thrilled at the thought of you, as a normal girl finally seducing him for real…Si Cheng was a pretty hot guy, he was young, smart and looked like he really received your feelings in a positive way…he wanted to meet you again…

You fell asleep thinking about what you would do the next day at his apartment…Suddenly you started to dream about him dominating you…just like how you did it with him a while ago…


How to: Approach Poetry Analysis in an Exam

An in-depth guide to write super-awesome commentaries. So my IB paper 1 unseen text exam is tomorrow, so thought I might condense all that I’ve learnt on poetry analysis over my high school life here. 

Reading the poem/those first 5 minutes:

The first time you do so, don’t worry about finding literary devices etc. Just read it. Feel the mood, feel the poem. Often in exams, you are given 5 minutes of reading time when you’re not suppose to write anyway, so really make use of that time. Remember your initial impression of the poem. 

  1. Ask yourself the following questions: WHAT is going on here? (What is the “dramatic situation”? WHO is speaking? (Known as the voice or persona. What kind of a person, what is their attitude to the situation? Who are they speaking to? How consistent is the speaker with the situation? 
  2. Ask yourself how the poem achieves the effect you noted above. Look for:  PATTERNS: The effect of the structure, the construction of the stanzas, lines. Repetition? Look for use of rhyme, metre, rythm, and sound patterns. IMAGES: What appeals to the senses? Look for taste, touch, sight, sound, smell, movement. What about literal images? Or are they figurative? Why? WORDS (Use of diction): Why the choice and position of words? What extra implications, connotations, dimensions, allusions? Ask yourself how these contribute to what the poem is doing.

Annotation:

Now use lots of pretty highlighters to annotate the poem. It helps to use a colour scheme! For example, use orange for literary devices, green for specific use of diction etc… It makes it easier to identify and go back to what you’ve found while writing the essay.

  1. Literary devices: So, so important. Focus on how language shapes meaning. I have created a page with all useful devices you could use HERE. 
  2. Structure: Look at the number of lines per stanza (Is it a tercet? A Quatrain? - Find the names of your poem structure on the same post as the literary devices) Look at rhythm (pentameter) and rhyming scheme. (ABAB or ABBA…) OR is it free verse? Drop all of this down somewhere on the page. 

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Jonathan Byers imagine: You’re trapped in The Upside Down with Will (part 2)

a/n: Hello everyone! Wow! I can’t believe part one has over one hundred notes!! Thank you so much for reading. Here’s part 2!

warning: slight swearing


Your POV in The Upside Down

Will held your hand tightly as you both ran. The cold air made your throats hurt but with that thing right on your tail, the adrenaline never let the both of you feel tired. You pulled Will to the side and hid behind a big tree.

“What if it finds us?” Will whispered shakily. You looked at him then looked around the side of the tree. No monster, or as Will called it, demogorgan, in sight.

“It won’t, don’t worry,” you whispered back, squeezing Will’s hand. “Your house should be close. Let’s keep going.” you urged Will on. You both needed to get somewhere you can hide easily and his house was the closest. The both of you tip-toed through the woods, careful not to make too much noise in case the demogorgan was close.

“I see the shed! We’re here!” Will pointed to the shed which was coming more and more into view. You reached the Byers’ property and wasn’t surprised that everything was covered with the moldy looking vines as well. Nothing had changed. Yet you trudged on, Will’s hand glued to yours. Will opened the back door of his house quietly and you both stepped inside and looked around. The inside of the normally warm and welcoming house was now dark, desolate, and completely trashed. Will let go of your house and immediately started towards his mother’s bedroom, quietly calling out to her. “Mom? Are you here…?” No answer. You walked past Will and stood in front of Jonathan’s door. You weren’t surprised to see that it had been broken down, leaving bits of wood here and there.

“Jonathan…please…please help us,” you whimpered. You stood inside of your boyfriend’s bedroom, silent tears streaming down your cheeks as you looked around. You walked over to his dresser and saw pictures of you and him together and a couple just of you. Most were broken or torn, of course. You picked one up that you particularly liked. It was a framed picture of you and him at Christmas time in front of a huge Christmas tree. The both of you were cheek to cheek sending up big, goofy smiles at his Polaroid. You smiled as you wiped away another tear. “Jonathan…”

“(y/n)?”

Your head snapped up and you looked around. You had just heard Jonathan’s voice! It sounded distant and echo-like, but you still heard it.  “Jonathan…? Jonathan!” You called louder, earning the attention from Will in the other room. He ran out of Joyce’s room and into his brother’s where he looked at you questioningly. “I just heard Jonathan! He called my name!”

“Are you serious?? Jonathan! Jonathaaannn!!” Will yelled, tears springing to his eyes. He must really miss his brother, you thought, but you quickly covered his mouth with your hand.

“Ssshh!! The demogorgan could be anywhere. We need to stay hidden,” you said seriously. Will gulped and nodded his head, aware of his mistake.

“(y/n)! Will! Where are you?!” You covered your mouth in amazement. My god, Jonathan heard you and Will! Suddenly Joyce’s voice was heard too, but it was barely audible.

“Jonathan!! Please help us!” you yelled, knowing what this could do.

BANG BANG BANG

You and Will jumped out of your skin and your heads whirled around. You knew this would happen. The demogorgan heard the yelling and it was trying to get in! Shit. The two of you walked into the hallway and into the living room. There you were surprised to see Christmas lights over big, painted letters on the wall.

“…give us a sign!” You heard Jonathan’s voice again and caught the last part of his sentence. You were in a rush now, the demogorgan was right at the door but you had to let Jonathan and Joyce know that you both are alive!

“(y/n)!” Will snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked at him. “Just focus on each light that’s above a letter to spell out a message. I did that before you got dragged here too!” You looked at Will and back to the letters and focused. You didn’t know if Joyce and Jonathan were even in the same room to see it, but you had to try anyways. If they were, you had to let them know that you were protecting Will.



a/n: So there it is! Sorry this took so long! My sincerest apologies. Anyways, question, does this qualify as an imagine or as more of a reader insert? Let me know if I need to change it! Thanks! <3

Moonstruck: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Genre: fluff (Jungkook x OC)

Word count: 2k

Summary: You and Jungkook have been best friends for as long as you can remember. But when he starts acting strange, you begin to fear the worst. You hope that tagging along with him and his family for their annual summer trip might bring him out of his slump, but things quickly get messy as you start to question where both of you stand in your relationship.


The next morning goes by in a blur. As soon as Mr. Jeon picks you up, you get that itching feeling in the back of your head that you must’ve forgotten something. By the time the car hits the edge of the city, you remember the bottle of sunscreen still sitting on your dresser.

Great.

But not even that can spoil your mood. You’re practically bouncing in your seat in anticipation of the next week. Thoughts of laying in the warm sun and floating on the smooth ocean waves drift through your mind, a smile finding its way to your face small. You absently close your eyes and sway back and forth as if you’re already there.

Jungkook nudges you with his elbow, eyebrow raised in amusement. You nudge him back, giggling at your own display.

Somehow, you and Jungkook make the 8-hour drive somewhat enjoyable by pointing out funny license plates or random signs. You’re showing him a cute cat video on your phone when the car suddenly swerves into the next lane. Jungkook’s hand immediately reaches out and lands on your forearm, gripping so firmly that the tips of his fingers turn white.

When Mr. Jeon steadies the vehicle again, but Jungkook leaves his hand for a few moments too long. You feel your heart flutter slightly.

“Um, Jungkook…” you say, shifting in your seat. You point at his hand still on your arm.

“Oh sorry.” He clears his throat, jerking his hand back.

An uncomfortable silence surrounds you, both wondering if you felt the same thing from that simple contact. After several minutes pass like this, you hear Jungkook’s quiet snoring, finally catching up on his much-needed sleep. You lean your head against the window, and try to watch the passing scenery, but no matter how much you try to focus, your mind still wonders.

No matter how hard you try to suppress it, you can’t possibly ignore the fluttering in your heart.

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Kinktober #31: All of the above

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 - FINAL


The 109th Academy Awards brings a truly outstanding crop of films to pick from that year in any category—slowly but surely, however, a candidate for favorite begins to emerge.

Somewhere to Belong sweeps up Best Original Screenplay, Costume Design, and Makeup and Hair Styling effortlessly. In a slight upset, it loses out on Best Score, but does pick up Best Original Song, a heart-wrenching ballad played during the end credits that has spawned a thousand popular YouTube covers. There isn’t a dry eye in the house after it’s performed live that evening.

After that, it dominates, winning every category it’s up for—Visual Effects, Production Design, Film Editing, Cinematography, and finally, Best Director.

All that’s left now are the awards for Best Actress and Actor in a leading role, and Best Picture (where the choice is clear).

Shouyou and Tobio are seated together in the audience, a common focus for reaction shots from the cameras when winners are announced. This wears on Tobio more than anyone may suspect—at least when he’s acting, he’s aware of where the cameras are, when and how his reactions need to be delivered, what the focus of the scene is. Public appearances are more difficult for him.

Does his face on the enormous monitors look thrilled enough when their film is announced (for something like the hundredth time that night)? Is he laughing at the right spots when the host cracks jokes? Does he look interested, or just bored, when the camera pans over him again?

Sometime into the second hour, he feels something warm press against his own hand. He glances down, to see Shouyou’s fingers have found his own.

“Relax,” Shouyou murmurs to him, and Tobio feels some of the tension ease from his shoulders, which were starting to hurt. “Your face is fine.”

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2

I Love You So Much 

 Summary: He finally admits he loves you 

Your P.O.V 

I was sitting on the couch in the living room in my apartment. I live in New York City so the view from my bedroom window is phenomenal. I don’t really know how to describe it but it is beautiful, especially at night when all the lights are on.

 I was waiting for Justin to arrive but he is about 15 minutes late. He is my best friends if you’re wondering. We became friend in 2010, I met him through Selena. She never liked me being close with Justin because to her I was making a “move” on her boyfriend when I really wasn’t. Since then she hasn’t contacted me and I don’t feel the need to make the effort when she clearly isn’t.

 My thoughts were interrupted when the front door opened and Justin walked through, a big smile on his face. Yes, he does have a key to my apartment, he insisted because “someone could break in and try to attack you, how would I be able to come into your apartment without keys” his words, not mine.

 “Sup, baby cakes” Justin said while falling down onto the couch next to me after taking of his shoes and leaving them by the door, he know that I hate it when he walks around my apartment with his shoes on.

 “You know I hate that name” I say, laughing while shaking my head at him. “I know but I like watching you get annoyed, it’s cute” he replies, giving me a cute smile. I shake my head and continue to watch the TV.

 “Can you make me some food, I’m starving” Justin says after a couple of minutes. I looked at him with my eye narrowed. “What am I? Your slave?” I asked, waiting for him to say something stupid, he always does.

 “Well you are a woman” He mutters, his eye glued onto the TV. “Boy, you better move away from me before I cut your dick off” I say, making cutting motion with my fingers. As I do, he scoots away from while covering his penis with his hands.

 “Fine, I’ll make you goddamn sandwich, but may god forgive me, if you are sexist to me one more time-” “Yeah, you’ll cut my dick off, I got it” he interrupted, shivering from the thought. I get up and pat his head like a dog, causing his to swat my hands away.

 I got up from the couch. I was about to walk into the kitchen but Justin grabbed my wrist stopping me from moving. I turned my head and looked at him in confusion. I saw him take a deep breath, closing his eyes.

 “I’ve really got to tell you something” He says, rubbing his thumb against the underside of my wrist, causing shivers to run up my arm.

 “I know we’ve been friends for quite some time now and I can’t help but feel something when I’m around you. You make me feel some type of way and I don’t really know how to explain it. Everything you do is cute. The way you scrunch your nose when you see something you don’t like. The way you stick your tongue out when you’re concentrating. The way you always care for me, even if I have been a dick to you or if I say something you don’t like. I guess what I’m trying to say is I Love you, so much” he says.

 “Wait…you love me? For how long?” I ask, still confused but mostly shocked. Deep down there is a part of me that is slowly rising as soon as he said those three words. A part of me that loves him more then I already do.

 “Longer then I would like to admit” he replies, puling me down to sit on the couch with him. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way” he says, sadly while putting his head down.

 “Justin, I don’t really know how I feel because I’ve never really thought about it. I never thought you would like me. I do really like you though” I say “You could even say, at a push, that I love you” I say, cheekily, giving him a big smile, trying to get rid of all the tension that has built up in the room.

 He laughs at me but soon stops. His eyes stared into mine. His face started coming close to mine. HIs hands came up and cupped my cheek. His lips soon met mine and sparks flew. I kissed him back, our lips moving passionately against each other’s.

 I pulled away after a couple of seconds, and rested my forehead against his. His eyes were still closed but he had a big smile on his face.

 “I love you so much”

Word Count: 801 

I hope you like this imagine.It is my first one so don’t attack me if it’s crap. I have edited it so there won’t be any spelling mistakes but there probably is one somewhere. 

Ok, everyone please forgive me for this, 

but Abigail having dragon blood is actually something that I’m starting to subscribe to as a legitimate headcanon. 

But ok, listen to me for a second here: 


First of all, she has the palest skin in the entire game. Literally, and I even checked the wiki to make sure. The only person who’s nearly as pale as her is Penny, and even then, Abigail’s skin is literally shaded with lavender, and is thus at least a shade lighter, thanks to that cold undertone. 

Sometimes, I swear, i look at her portrait, and it looks like her skin is glowing

Then there’s the now-infamous line that she says whenever you give her gemstones and crystals. We all know what I’m talking about. This one:

Now while I don’t think she’s actually eating the rocks you give her, I do think she finds the minerals weirdly appetizing, for reasons even she doesn’t understand yet. The words slip out of her mouth, and she’s too embarrassed to correct her mistake. She takes the rocks home and places them somewhere around her room and simply admires them, but she still can’t shake that weird feeling of wanting to know what they taste like. 

She’s invested in the occult, and we all know this, but what’s interesting is /how/ she’s invested in the occult. You’d imagine her to be raving about magic spells, or studying as much as she can on the elementals that apparently populate the world, searching for magical components in the woods, or, well, 

acting a bit more like Rasmodius, honestly. 

But she’s not really like him at all. Superficially, yes, comparisons can be made. But if you look at her temperament and how she interacts with the world, she’s much less like a wizard, and more like an adventurer. Less like the quiet and studious intellectual, and more like someone who feels innately drawn to the magical world. She desires to immerse herself fully in that world, to become a part of it, to find her home there, and she rationalizes this feeling as a thirst for adventure.

She plays the flute in the rain. She practices sword fighting in the middle of the night. When fighting her father, she expresses a great deal of defiance, independence, and anger. 

you could say she has a… fiery temper. 

#confirmed. 


(And just as a side note, I don’t think this theory is entirely incompatible with the theory that she is actually Rasmodius’ daughter. We have no idea what dragons are like in this world, but if there’s one thing D&D taught me, it’s that dragon blood makes you adept at magic. You see what I’m getting at here, right?) 

anonymous asked:

hi can you do a dating Antoine Griezmann would include? Thanks :)

thank u sm for ur request!! i had so much fun writing one of those “dating would include”s for cristiano that i was really excited when i read your request!! 💓aaaaanyway i’m not sure i like the outcome as much as cristiano’s but this one will be split into part 1 and part 2 as well, so the second part i’ll make sure will be better lol. (in my defense, it’s past ten and i have uni tomorrow 😁💀

((again, i haven’t checked for grammar/spelling mistakes yet as i have no time rn, but will do as soon as i can tomorrow. hope there aren’t any 🌙)


PART I

Dating Antoine would include …


Walking Hookie. It is only eleven o’clock in the morning but the Spanish sun is already breaming down on you mercilessly, making you feel listless. In addition to that, you hadn’t slept well at all. (Which may have something to do with Antoine and you staying up until five in the morning, watching all the Star Trek movies and then afterwards discussing whether Star Trek or Star Wars is the better franchise.)

Unlike you, though, Antoine doesn’t seem to be tired at all. He has his day off today, walking along beside you and throwing sticks every now and then, Hookie bolting after them. 

His hair is rumpled, just like his shirt. At-home days are Antoine’s I’ll-wear-whatever-I-can-pick-up-from-the-floor-first days. But even so, he looks absolutely enticing. 

“Please shave,” you say when Antoine flings yet another stick. He cocks his eyebrows at you while Hookie runs off again. 

“Comment?” 

“Your beard,” you remark, raising your hand to point a finger at his face, then lightly tickle his beard with your fingertip. Antoine slaps your hand away gently. 

“Okay.” He grins at you as he throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him and causing your body to bump into his with every step you take. Not that you mind, of course. It’s nice being close to him. It’s even nicer to know that he likes it as well. 

You curl your fingers around his hip, smiling up at him, admiring him. You don’t think you have ever used the word “pretty” to describe a man before, but there is no word more apposite to Antoine. The light blue of his eyes which always seem to hold a twinkle, his sharp jawline, his straight nose, his narrow waist, his prominent cheekbones, his perfectly shaped eyebrows … You could go on and on.  

But he’s not only attractive as hell, he’s also a really good person. A cool, chill guy to have fun with, a little nerdy maybe, very polite, very charming, very sexy, very quick-witted. 

And you’re so, so lucky to have him. 

“Stop staring at me,” he says but there’s a grin tugging at the corners of his lips and a little blush to his cheeks. 

“I can’t help it,” you reply, patting his stomach with your free hand. “You’re too sweet.” 

Antoine laughs, playfully pushing you away from him. “You don’t say that to men.” He runs the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, smiling down at his feet and scratches his cheek while they rose a little more. 


Playing FIFA. Apparently, Atlético-less at-home days are so awful that Antoine has to get his daily dose of football from somewhere else. Which, in his case, usually means either watching matches or playing FIFA. And since there are no interesting matches scheduled for today, the two of you are now sitting on the couch, searching for clubs to play as. 

“I’m taking Atlético,” you say. Antoine grins at you. But his smile quickly disappears when it’s time to choose which players to bench and which ones to put in — and you bench virtual Antoine. Real Antoine huffs. 

“I’m breaking up with you.” 

You laugh. “No, you’re not. You would miss me too much.” 

His only response is a wheeze. 

Of course, you lose. You always do but it’s not much of a surprise considering Antoine is practically addicted to video games and even plays against his actual teammates at Atlético’s training ground. He’s even getting paid for this. It’s ridiculous, really. 

“And another eight goals for you,” you sigh. “I hate playing FIFA.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you suck.” 

“No, because you’re an asshole who won’t let his girlfriend win.” 

Antoine chuckles. “It wouldn’t be winning if I let you win, though.” 

“That doesn’t matter, Antoine,” you say, shaking your head, “The point is that you’re a lousy boyfriend.” 

He’s still laughing quietly when he turns to face you completely, his arm resting on the couch’s backrest behind you. “Oh, am I? What else am I doing that makes me so 'lousy’?”

Digging your teeth into your bottom lip, you start to ponder your words carefully. Honestly, there isn’t much he’s done that you could complain about. He’s really attentive, funny, relaxed. And he cooks for you. Really well, at that. 

The smirk that’s now plastered on his face tells you that he knows you have absolutely nothing. Until you eventually do come up with something.

“You keep me up at night, so I’m tired in the mornings.” 

However, Antoine’s smirk only widens, his tiny dimples becoming more noticeable. “I do keep you up.”

You roll your eyes but you still can’t suppress the smile. “You’re so annoying, I swear.”


… Cuddling. Madrid is hot, even at night. Antoine’s body is also hot — “hot” as in attractive, and “hot” as in really, really warm. Normally, you really love spooning with him because he is cuddly (which he always is but when he’s sleepy, his cuddliness increases by what feels like six hundred percent) and he kisses your shoulders until you fall asleep. 

But tonight, it is just too warm. You have already kicked the blanket off your body and have gotten out of your pajamas, leaving you in nothing but your panties and a tanktop, and it’s still too warm. It’s annoying and it prevents you from falling asleep. 

Antoine, however, does snore behind you quietly. 

Softly, you kick his shin. No reaction. You let out a heavy breath. 

“Antoine?” you whisper, then wait a few seconds to see if there’s any movement. There isn’t. It figures. 

You turn your head slowly, but Antoine’s is nestled to your neck so there is no chance you can see his face. Curling your fingers around his wrist, you shake his hand carefully. Seriously, how can anyone be that dead to the world? 

Out of the blue, his arm tightens around you, pulling you closer. You’re about to groan when he suddenly speaks up, his voice hoarse and quiet, “Let me sleep.”

“It’s hot,” you whine. “I’m sweating.” 

“That’s fine. I like your skin sweaty. Reminds me of something I like to do with you.” 

“That is disgusting and could you stop talking about sex for once?” 

Antoine chuckles softly. He doesn’t say anything else. Now, you do groan. But now he’s also awake, which means that you don’t have to be careful around him anymore. With one swift movement, you shuffle away from him. 

Antoine follows you, wrapping his arm around you again.

“Are you serious?” you ask exasperatedly. 

When you feel his shoulders and his chest twitch with suppressed laughter, you kick him again. This time, more forcefully. Antoine lets out a guffaw. 

“God, I hate you so much.”

In the dark, you smile into your pillow.  

anonymous asked:

Request: Going to a Halloween party with Stiles and you feel left out?

Thank you for the request :) I might of made this with a bit of fluff. I wasn’t sure what kind of relationship the reader has with Stiles so I just ran with close friendship.I’m sorry for the wait. I wrote this while at the nurses office at school on my phone so I have not checked for all the spelling mistakes xD


Originally posted by gabalecki

I had thought that going to a Halloween party with Stiles would be fun, but I was wrong. We had dressed up as Han Solo and Leia from Star Wars. We weren’t a couple, but the costumes made us look like we were.

As the night went on and everyone drank, talked and danced around I had started to feel lonely. I sat at the living room couch in Lydia’s house with my red solo cup in my hand. Stiles was across the room talking with a girl who seemed very interested in him and he in her. I watched them with what I think was jealousy. He was joking around and she had her hand on his arm smiling brightly.

“You okay Y/N?” Lydia asked as she was making her way through the living room and had caught me sitting alone. Her hair was messy and she looked frustrated with the amount of teens doing stupid things in her house.

“I’m fine.” I smiled and took a sip of the mysterious liquid that was I had poured into my cup from the punch bowl. Lydia shrugged and walked off to warn some teens to not brake any of her expensive furniture.

My eye trailed up to Stiles again, but he wasn’t there. He most likely went somewhere with the girl. I tried to look for Allison, but she was dancing with Scott and I knew I shouldn’t bother them.

 I got up and walked outside. The crisp October air sent chills down my spine. What I had thought to be a fun party to hang out with Stiles and my friends had turned into me being alone outside the party

“Hey Y/N! Where are you going?” I looked over to see Stiles running over to me. His cheeks were puffed and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Going home.” I mumbled. Stiles chuckled a bit as he took a few steps closer to me. He put his arm around my shoulder as he brought me to his car.

“The party was lame. Let’s get ice cream.” He said as he opened the car door for me. My eyes widened at the casual tone of his voice and I wondered about the girl he was with earlier.

“What about the girl you were talking to?” I asked and shyly peered over at him when we had both entered the vehicle.

“Oh, she asked me to pretend that we were having fun so she could make her ex think she had moved on.” Stiles pushed some of his brown hair out of his eyes and chuckled. “Funny.” I said and looked out the window.

“I wouldn’t leave you alone. I got worried when I didn’t see you Y/N. Don’t just up and leave like that.” He let out a worried sigh and tapped his fingers on the wheel.

“I’m sorry. I just felt a bit lonely.” I felt embarrassed admitting I was lonely at a party filled with people having fun, but Stiles gave me a sympathetic smile.

“That is why we are getting ice cream right now. Just you and me.”

“At 2 in the morning?”

Talk Dirty To Me

[Note - I’m going to use he and his in this post because I hate using plurals for one person, but they should be considered gender-neutral.

Because that’s what love is, after all: blind.]

So, why do we love this story? Why do we think back on it, why do we remember the way they look at each other as we trot along and do our boring, mundane things? 

Because it’s a great story. Simple as that. I mean, remember how it goes?

Keep reading

days / min yoongi

getting over him was harder than you thought

min yoongi angst

 One day.

 You still couldn’t believe it. You sat alone in your living room, dressed in black, sitting in dark silence. You were still waiting for his phone call, his texts, him.

 He’ll text, you thought, you believed, you were trying to convince and reassure yourself. He’ll come back.

 Two days.

 This time, you were in bed, staring at the ceiling, letting your mind drift into a hundred different places. Hugging your pillow, you took in the sweet scent of men’s perfume on the pillow.

 You imagined that the pillow was him. Hugging it tighter, pulling it closer to your heart.

 Your heart still believed that he would come back.

 Four days.

 You were slowly starting to lose hope, but you couldn’t give up; you wouldn’t give up. Any second, he could walk through the main door, take off his shoes, pull you into a warm embrace and kiss your lips.

 Any second now.

 A n y m o m e n t n o w.

 Seven days.

You were starting to completely lose it; you were going insane. You couldn’t handle it anymore; you couldn’t wait any longer. All you wanted was him. All you wanted was a way to release the pain and longing that’s been in your chest for the longest time.

So, you decided to destroy things. You broke plates, threw things around; the biggest tantrum you’ve had since you were a child that didn’t get her ice cream.

You let out the loudest and the most painful scream that your throat could muster. You didn’t give a shit if the neighbours would hear and complain. All you wanted was a release.

Reality was starting to kick you in the face, in the chest, in the heart. He was not coming back. He is not coming back.

And for the first time in seven days, you cried.

You cried for him.

Ten days.

Your heart has lost all hope; your mind screams for him; your heart was craving for him. You felt like you can’t handle another moment without him.

You miss him so much; it can’t be put into words. You miss his laugh, his lame jokes, the way his nose would scrunch, his tight hugs, his sweet butterfly kisses, the way he lets you know that he loves you, him.

But no amount of hope can bring him back.

Twelve days.

Hello! You’ve reached me, and if there’s anything important that you have to say, leave a message after the beep! And Y/N, if this is you, I’ll get you food and I love you!”

Fifteen days.

So far, you haven’t left the house. You were living off ice cream, sappy television shows, delivery and ready-to-eat food. The house you once shared with the love of your life, the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, was a complete mess.

The place you called ‘home’ didn’t feel like home anymore. It was empty and quiet and there was no more joy and love.

You didn’t bother to clean up; why should you even bother? There’s no point in keeping the house clean anymore.

Tissues were strewn everywhere, used and broken plates were left all over the house, dirty clothes and random things were littered everywhere.

The house was a mess, just like you without him.

Twenty days.

 You woke up in the middle of the night crying. You reached for the ‘him’ that wasn’t there, just to realise that the other half of the bed was completely cold and empty. You cried even harder when you remembered what you dreamt of.

 You dreamt about that day, the day.

“All I ask of you is to be around a little more, to spend a little more time with me, to put in a little more effort!” You were so tired of being lonely at this house, waiting.

“I work for twelve, thirteen, fourteen hours a day, just for our future, Y/N, why can’t you understand that?” He was equally as annoyed as you, he was so exhausted. He didn’t come home to be lectured and fight with you.

“I’m sorry that I can’t always be around and spend time with you, I have a life besides you, you know?”

He was screaming back at you, his eyes blazed in fury that you’ve never seen before.

“I’m not asking you to choose between me and work and your friends, all I want is for you to spend a little more time with me! Do you know how lonely it gets at night without you?”

“And do you know how tired I am? Do you think I want to live this way? Please, Y/N, I’m exhausted, I need some space.”

You couldn’t believe the words that came out of your mouth, “Then go get your space. Get out.”

The moment they came out, the pit of your stomach was filled with regret. This was the exact opposite that you wanted.

“If that’s what you want,” he spat and walked out the door, not taking another look back.

And that was the biggest mistake of your life.

Twenty-seven days.

If you could have a time machine or a magical spell, you would turn back the time. You’d do anything to change the past. Too bad that that was impossible. Life only moves forward, there are no slow motions, back forward, fast forward or pauses.

Your heart ached as you remembered the rest of the ordeal.

You were so angry, yet so guilty at the same time. You contemplated calling him, but stopped yourself in fear that he’ll snap at you.

It was nearly one in the morning, and anything can happen in the night. Despite the bugging feeling in your chest and the fear of his safety, you decided that what’s done was done and went to sleep.

He will come back in the morning, right?

-

The sound of your phone buzzing woke you up from your slumber. Groggily, you picked up the phone and you got over your sleepiness when you realised who was calling.

“Hello? Oh my God, jagi, please come home,” he cut you off before you could say anything more and the next three simple yet bittersweet words that came would haunt you for life.

I love you.”

And he hung up.

When the news reached you the next morning, you felt your entire world take a 360 degree turn.

And it was all your fault.

Thirty-four days.

It’s been more than a month, and you decided to get over yourself and clean up a little. You were disgusted at the state of your house and how much trash that has accumulated over the past month due to your broken heart.

You were cleaning your bedroom, sweeping the floor, when you swept a little box from underneath your bed. You’ve never seen this before. Was this his?

Opening the box, your heart was beating at the speed of lightning.

It was a diamond ring.

Forty days.

You visited him for the first time in forty days. You weren’t fully ready to visit, but you went anyway.

The place was empty and the wind was crisp, the wind blowing at your hair. You sat down on the grass, put down the flowers and started to talk.

“Hey, jagi, how are you? I know it’s been long,” your eyes started to water uncontrollably.

Not even a single sentence and you already lost it.

“I really miss you, you know? I didn’t even get to tell you how much I love you,” your words were starting to get incoherent, and you began to stutter your words.

“You left so abruptly, so unexpectedly, at such a young age,” your emotions were starting to build up, and everything was pouring out like a waterfall.

“Why didn’t you stay that night? Why didn’t you fight me? Why did you just go like that? Why didn’t you scold me like you always did? Why did you leave me? Why did you have to go?!”

“Now I have to suffer and live miserably, because you’re no longer around. But jagi, if you love me, why’d you leave me?”

Memories of that night came crashing down upon you and the guilt in your chest intensified.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s my fault that you’re gone,” your voice dropped to a whisper.

And the entire graveyard was engulfed in silence.

Sixty-two days.

You found yourself making your way to your boyfriend. Playing with the diamond ring on your ring finger, you started to talk.

“I didn’t get to say this before, so I’ll say this to you now. If you’re out there somewhere and listening, Min Yoongi, I love you. I love you so much. And I miss you. I know that there’s no way that you’ll ever come back, and I won’t ever get to experience your hugs and kisses anymore, but that’s okay. It’s what I deserve anyway. I love you.”  

There was a sudden gust of wind, and you felt as if the wind was pulling you into an embrace.

And somehow, you knew that it was him.

Eighty-three days.

Life for you was slowly going back to normal, you’ve started to go back to your usual routine. You were slowly turning back into the Y/N Y/L/N that everybody knows and loves.

You were finally starting to let go and move on.

Ninety-nine days.

You were walking along the pathway, plugged into your earphones, completely unaware of your surroundings.

As you were turning, you weren’t paying attention at all and you accidentally bumped into someone.

You yelped as your head made contact with his, and you fell to the ground.

“Oh my God, miss, I am so sorry,” he held out his hand and you opened his eyes to look at his face.

He looked slightly familiar.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you flashed a tiny smile at the stranger, who seemed to be staring at your face, as if he knew you before.

“It’s alright, anyway, I feel like I know you somewhere,” he flashed you an adorable gummy smile, which made your insides melt.

“Really? I don’t recognise your face,” you stared at his eyes, that seemed oh-so familiar to you.

“Strange, anyway, what’s your name?”

Your mother once told you not to talk to strangers, but you ignored it anyway.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you!”

“That’s a pretty name, I’m Suga and why don’t we grab a coffee one time?”