i want to be married already

anonymous asked:

for pinof 9 i want to see them basically sit on top of each other. shit, they already do that. i mean i want them to almost kiss. they already do that too? *SIGH* then i want them to acknowledge how married they are. what? that happened too? COME ON!

Dan’s going to have to sit on Phil’s lap at some point. There’s only so many ways they can move in that room.

anonymous asked:

For the Actor AU how would hockey Sid and Geno finally confront the fact that they want what they saw their dopplegangers have in the film?

oh man i want dramatic declarations of love and PASSIONATE KISSING afterwards but i also want hockey sid and geno to be already married and the rookies are all “man…..sid and geno are like the most vanilla couple…..missionary sex at 9 PM before bed on Fridays probably….this movie is very…….intense…..not like them”

2

Meanwhile, Jeremy has mustered up the courage to ask Fredrick the big question, but before he can even ask for Therese’s hand, the older man breaks into giggles.

Fredrick: I bet you want to ask me for permission to marry Therese, don’t you?

Jeremy loses his pre-planned words and simply nods.

Fredrick: If you want to know how I knew, I saw you hide the ring box in your pocket before we left.

Jeremy: So, do you approve or not?

Fredrick: It isn’t my place to approve or not. I think you’re a cool guy, but I’m not the one marrying you. Now, ask Therese, and there you’ll have your answer.

Jeremy: So, you don’t have anything against me?

Fredrick laughs heartily.

- Goodness, no! For all my concern, you are part of the family already.

Before they can continue this conversation, Therese comes back, and something about her expression tells Jeremy that now is not a good time to propose.

Wow guys I can’t believe SPM finally has it’s own animation

Wouldn’t it be sad if Black Hat had a similar backstory to Count Bleck with his own lost love…?!

Anyway the similarities between these two are astounding so I just had to draw them

Everyone Lived.

Everyone lived. When Harry was born, Lily hardly saw him because Sirius was fitting him into a tiny leather jacket, Remus was reading to him, and James was already trying to sneak him to the Quidditch supply store to get Harry his first toy broom. Christmases were spent with full bellies and rooms stuffed with laughter, and there wasn’t a single person without flushed cheeks from all the wine. Lily’s eyes sparkled, and there was always a joke on the tip of James’ tongue. All Harry knew was love, love, love, from every corner of the universe.

Everyone lived, and every Thursday afternoon, Sirius and Remus took Harry to the “library”, which was the secret word they taught him for the ice cream parlor. With each trip, they ordered the biggest sundae that was offered with three spoons, and Harry always ate nearly all of it. They kept it up until the day Harry asked Lily to take him to the library and, when confronted with the shelves piled high with books, he asked her where they went to order their ice cream.

Remus and Sirius got married when Harry was three, and Harry was the ring bearer. Lily cried the first time she saw him in his tiny dress robes. They were just long enough that he nearly tripped halfway up the aisle. There wasn’t a single pair of dry of eyes in the audience that day.

Everyone lived, and on Harry’s sixth birthday, he celebrated alongside Neville with all their friends and family. James gave Harry his first set of toy Quidditch balls. He, Ron, Neville, Draco, and Ginny all played together until Draco pushed Neville off his broom and into the cake Alice had spent hours working on. Lily tried so hard not to laugh at Neville’s frosting-covered face, but instead she went beet red and gave herself away to everyone.

Draco said he was sorry. He actually meant it.

Everyone lived, and the moms had a Lockhart book club, which consisted of everyone getting wine-drunk and complaining about their husbands together. Draco, Neville, Harry and Ron eavesdropped and reported back to their dads, who were standing around the kitchen armed with beer, about what they did wrong that week. Each of the meetings somehow coincidentally ended with each of the men stopping by to bring their respective wives bouquets of flowers or boxes of chocolate “because they just felt like it.”

Everyone lived, and Draco and Harry were friends, believe it or not. When Narcissa and Lucius had a date night, they dropped Draco off at the Potters. James told them scary stories in the darkness of their blanket tent. Lily used magic to cast shadows all over their living room, and Harry and Draco wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. But Lily kissed each of their foreheads and assured them each that everything would be fine, because she and James would never let anything bad happen to either of them.

She meant it.

Draco and Harry stayed up until their eyelids were simply too heavy to bear, but Harry managed to remain awake till Draco was completely asleep before closing his eyes. It was one of the most peaceful things he’d ever seen. He wasn’t exactly sure why he thought that. Not yet, anyways.

Everyone lived. Everyone got a little bit older. The kids all went off to Hogwarts, somehow managing to stuff themselves all into one train compartment, even with Hermione once she joined. Draco and Harry got put into different houses, which was a relief to everyone around them. “they already bickered like a married couple without rooming together,” Ron said when they were first sorted, “I don’t want to think about what we’d have to deal with if they were sharing a dorm.”

The only time Harry and Draco forgot about their friendship was when they played against each other in Quidditch. There were no rules when you needed to be the first one to the snitch.

(I suppose there weren’t any rules when it came to making out with your best friend in an empty corridor after drinking half a bottle of fire whiskey, either.)

Sixth year came with sly glances and brushing fingertips in the hallway; throwing all caution to the wind and risking friendship for feelings Harry and Draco had been denying since they were kids. Ron and Hermione exchanged knowing looks, but no one said a word. Not even when Harry inconspicuously crept out of bed nearly every night at half past two with his Invisibility cloak in tow, not returning until the sun was just peeking out over the mountains, if at all. He looked happier than ever that year, secrets tugging on the corners of his mouth every time he spoke.

Everyone lived, and when Draco and Harry came out to their families their seventh year, everyone groaned. “You owe me ten Galleons,” was the first thing James said to Lucius, and Harry knew then that everything was going to be okay.

Because everyone was here, surrounding him, breathing, alive. They all hugged him and Draco at once, cheeks smooshed together, a mess of laughter and “I love you’s” and kisses on foreheads. They were all connected then, their pulses stitching them together with a bond Harry knew nothing could break.

They all knew hurt; they knew pain and suffering, and they knew loss, but most of all, they knew each other. They knew love, and they knew hope.

As they stood there, a giant amoeba of people from all walks of life, some more challenging than others, Harry let go of the breath he felt as though he had been holding for his entire life.

We're Already Married

So, I am supposed to be working on a chapter of a story and an angsty oneshot. But this fluffy drabble had to be written. It just had to.
——–


               “Draco, we need to talk.” Lucius told his son firmly as he and Narcissa walked into the room.

                “Mhm. Go ahead.” Came the little three-year-old’s distracted voice.

                Lucius rolled his eyes before stepping behind his son and peering down. “What in heaven’s name is that?”

                That had Narcissa circling the table and looking at her son’s face. His tongue was peeking out of his lips, eyes were narrowed in concentration while brows were furrowed and he seemed to be drawing something on a spare piece of parchment. She blinked uncertainly at the pure disaster of scribbles that were everywhere. If it wasn’t supposed to be a ball of rubbish, she honestly had no idea what her son was attempting to draw.

                “It’s Dobby. Can’t you tell?” Draco looked up with a wobbly lip and sad eyes as he pointed across the room to the house elf. As if the thought of it not looking like Dobby was a disaster.

                Lucius looked over for the first time and noted that the elf was in an odd pose with an apple balancing on his forehead.

                At his arched brows, Dobby hurried to explain. “Master Draco asked Dobby to be his muse.”

                “Is that so?” Lucius drawled with a heavy sigh. “Draco, you can’t order Dobby to play with you.”

                “Why not?”  

                Patience was not Lucius’ strong suit. He looked to the ceiling briefly before shaking his head. “We will have this conversation at a later date. There are more important things to discuss.”

                Draco hummed a little before looking up with wide eyes. “Am I in twouble? If so, Dobby did it.”

                A soft surprised noise emitted from the elf and Narcissa couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “No, you aren’t in trouble and don’t blame Dobby for things he didn’t do.”

                “Sowwy.” Draco apologized as he looked down at his hands.

                “Sorry.” Lucius corrected. For some reason, pronouncing R’s were hard for his son.

                Draco’s brows were pinched in confusion. “That’s what I said.”

                “No, you said—” Lucius paused as he decided to let it go. “Nevermind. What I have been trying to tell you is that we have come to discuss a pureblood tradition with you.”

                That had Draco’s expression souring. “No thanks.”

                Narcissa covered her mouth as she tried muffling her laughter. Salazar, she loved her son.

                “Draco.” The hard tone of his voice had his son straightening up and giving him a serious look. Finally.

                “When you come of age, you will be drawn into a marriage contract. This is something that most purebloods do and it is a standing tradition of the Malfoy family.” Lucius shot is wife a look when she crossed her arms. He knew that she didn’t agree and wanted Draco to find his own spouse but that wasn’t the plan.

                “I’m alweady mawried.” Draco interrupted excitedly!

                Lucius blinked rapidly. “You want to run that by me again?”

                “Hawwy asked me to mawwy him today! I said I would if he let me have his pudding. He did!”

                “And who pray tell is Hawwy?” Lucius shuddered at the pronunciation.

                “Hawwy is my best fwriend. He has pwetty eyes and he said I do too! We are mawried.”

                Narcissa smirked at her husband. “You hear that? He’s already married. Looks like that marriage contract is moot.”

                “Narcissa, you can’t possibly—”

                She stood up rapidly, holding out her hand for her son to take. “I can and I will. You want to explain to your son why he can’t marry his best friend? Because if so, you can deal with the aftermath.”

                Draco looked between them rapidly. “But…” His eyes filled with tears. “We alweady mawried.” The sniffle he released had Lucius closing his eyes. “Tomorrow’s the anni- anniver-” He scrunched up his nose as he looked to Narcissa for help.

                “Anniversary?” She offered picking him up and holding him close.

                Draco nodded rapidly as he wiped his eyes. “Yes. I want to give him a gift.”

                Narcissa smiled softly. “How about we go see if we can have one of the house elves cook him something. What kind of desserts does he like?”

                “Tweacle tawrt.”

                Lucius watched his wife and son walk out of the room with a shake of his head. He looked over and noticed that Dobby was still in the same awful pose. “Cease that at once.”

                When the elf let out a noise of relief, Lucius rolled his eyes. “What are the chances that I’ll get my way in the end?”

                He knew that Dobby couldn’t lie to him, so he was interested in hearing the response.

                The *pop* of the elf’s departure was heard and it had Lucius putting his face in his hands. “That’s what I was afraid of.”


Keep reading

when i was seven the sea-witch cursed me.

she cursed my great-grandfather, actually, who had spat on the hands of the ocean and disrespected the beating heart of the earth - for what else are waves but a pulse - who was silly and violent and who tried to rip from the water what was hers by rights. we were wealthy, before that, a family of merchants. my mother says in her youth she recalls white horses, the gleam of candles, early mornings with bread baked fresh by a horde of servants.

he didn’t ask permission to cross her. that’s what my mother tells me while she spoons porridge with no flavor into the wood of my bowl. he had no faith in superstition, rode with boats that were more decoration than strength, the folly of a man who was cruel and vain and proud of his own gold teeth. the sky had been blue, so regardless of what the village witch said, he would sail that day. and when his boat sank; their lives turned blue like the sky that day.

my mother says she thinks the curse on the men of our family, even if they come in when they marry, is that they will forever be violent, too foolish to see the storm on the horizon. she whispers this to me on the eve of my seventh birthday, while father is his own storm, thundering around the house, looking for her. later, when i am cleaning the cut by her cheek, she tells me the curse is on the women to forever be unhappy, to wane until they are shadows, to walk into the deep like a sinking ship. 

we don’t burn candles often, they are too expensive. she tells me this in the silk of a dark room. the moon kisses her hair. 

in three days, my mother will walk into the ocean, and my father will be my own problem. the curse will pass onto me. 

my father does not believe in superstition, no curse to conquer him. when he is gone, and i am heartbroken, i go to the village witch. i ask her to teach me about magic, and other things, and about how the ocean can be coaxed, and how to save my father’s soul. 

and my hands rot too, keeping a house by myself with things i barely knew. i learn the art of a good scrubbing, keep my mind full of white horses while i endlessly clean, dream of candles in dark while i make the bread that he will not allow me to eat. he keeps me from the ocean, from visiting the place that took my mom, from following in her footsteps where the water makes women undone.

i am sixteen when i see her in the water of a bowl. she scares me so completely that i drop it, and my father comes in with his hands, and the curse, and i almost forget all about it. it isn’t until after that i realize she is beautiful, and young, which surprises me. 

i think about it every evening. her face becomes distorted to me. i can no longer remember the exact shape of it, only the impression of beauty. 

i turn seventeen and wait for the high moon. i pin safety to my vest in little witch herbs and runes. i put naked toes on the sand and slip closer, closer, to the avenue of my family’s doom. i find a little private beach, small and surrounded by rocks, hidden from my father in the event he ever thought to come looking. at high tide, it is barely the span of my body. at low, it feels empty.

the witch of the land has given me what i need to call in the witch of the sea, but i do not use it. it feels wrong, somehow, standing here in the wind and the quiet pulse of the world. i put down the incense and sage and i sit just close enough it feels wild, dangerous - but not close enough to get caught up in thrill. 

when nothing happens, i go home and i make bread that i will not eat.

for months i do this. i climb down to my beach. i learn to do it when the moon is half, and then when the moon is empty. i learn to do it so well that sometimes i go to sleep in my own bed and wake up by the water. i take to sleeping with warding runes to keep me from being pulled in the rip out to the waiting hands of a hungry sea-witch.

i don’t know when i start talking. more often i sing, because singing in my house is not allowed, and something about the way the rocks echo my voice feels comforting. the older i get, the more i can pretend i hear my mother’s voice, answering me, harmonizing gently. i sing songs about sadness and lullabies about curses. when i have exhausted every song i know, i write new ones about fathers who have never learned how to be kind, about the house i work in but do not love, about mothers who left, and about a sea witch.

i see her sometimes. in a puddle, in the drop of rain, in the strangest places. i never expect it, although i always hope. i am never able to see her for more than the length of a wave, breaking, and each time, it does something new to my heart.

at eighteen i am too much of my father’s burden. he tries to unload me onto other men. the land witch helps me with this. i rub hemlock, burn wolfsbane. we arrange so these men have other women to marry. the news of my curse is bad enough to scare most away. my father is not happy.

after a particularly savage night, i wonder how bad it could be. i could marry some boy from the village who didn’t quite bother me. i suppose they’re not ugly. timothy had always been gentle to me. i think about a life, and how i am cursed to be unhappy. my father would finally be proud of me.

i walk to the beach and i tell the waves about him and how i could convince myself it was love if i just never wanted from him. how i could be okay, if not content, how i could be free, how i already had learned life down on knees.

but i go home and i write a rune of warding. and the years pass and i find reasons each suitor is wanting. and the sea witch i see, sometimes, peeking out at me, staying long each time in the water, looking, watching. i see her in mirrors when my father storms against me. it is bad because he mistakes the cause of my smiling. it is better when she is there the next morning.

and i go to the ocean. when i am too sad to speak, it seems like the ocean is whispering for me. i picture my mother’s voice and tell myself i am happy. i am seven again and we are sewing. i am seven again and the curse has not been given to me. i am seven and she came home after she walked to the sea.

i grow silly, brave, unthinking. i leave behind the herbs and i wade deep. i teach myself the art of swimming. i am bad at it, at first, but something about it feels good to me. like the ocean wants to buoy me. in the day i think of it, guilty. what if there was a rip tide, and the water took me? who would care for my father if i stepped off the beach into a long drop? wasn’t i clever enough to know that the ocean is uncaring?

it is not this that does it. i go out after a rain and i slip on the rocks and suddenly i am in water above my head but without the moon i cannot see the up of it. i kick and i thrash and the water surrounds me. the tide pulls on my body and in the cold i feel my body grow weary. water spills into me. it punches through my body, up my nose and into my lungs and some part of me knows this is what mother felt before she was gone.

i kick ground by accident, reorient, drag myself heaving and spitting into the air. i lie there for a long time, half in and half out of death, enjoying the sensation of breathing and of life.

when i look up, i think i see her, watching me, her brows knit with something like worry. but we make eye contact and my heart leaps and then she is gone and i am left alone with nothing but the dawn breaking.

my father is furious when there is no bread. he finds my hair wet, and the salt of the ocean still smelling on me. and that is it. that day he goes out and pays someone to agree to marry me.

this feels right to me, i think. i’m twenty-one, three times seven, a perfect number for a curse to fully come down on me. i will be wed in three weeks.

the land witch comes to visit me. she looks like she’s sorry for me. she gives me a spell and tells me to put it under my pillow; i’ll dream of love and it will soothe me. instead i dream of the seawitch, and how wonderful she is, and the sight of her, out on the water, worried.

even though it is risky, i go down to the beach. i do not bother with protective spells, i have already seen that the water can kill me. fear alone keeps me from wandering. i sit on the beach and in the sand i draw runes for understanding and i make the small magicks i’ve spent years learning and i close my eyes and i ask the ocean “why do you do this to me.”

i fall asleep. i dream that the sea witch talks to me. i dream she is my age, that she is the great-granddaughter of the first to curse my family. i dream she has spent years watching, learning, finding the truth of me. that she just needs to get the courage to come and speak, that she has fallen in love with my singing, that she knows no curse but the one in her heart that brings her back to a human, to a creature of air and not water, to a mistake in the making.

in the dawn i know it is a dream and no more. i make bread. i pour water out before it can make mirrors. i do not look. i do not like the ache that has filled me, as if i’ve been looking for an answer and the answer only leads to longing.

the man i meet - my husband-to-be - is delighted by the house i keep. he believes a woman should keep in her place, and her place should be clean. he hears from neighbors that sometimes i sneak out to the land witch’s house. laughter barks out of him. not going to allow that behavior, not me. he does not believe in curses. he will pack me up and move me from the ocean to somewhere in the mountains, where i know nobody. and i will, he promises, learn to keep my place, and that place clean.

i tell myself i could love him. he is not ugly. he says i’m pretty enough after whiskey. my father mentions i used to sing. i refuse to perform for these men so instead i make them cookies. they laugh and talk about me, even when i am in the room, as if they cannot even see. they shake hands and talk about how useless a woman is for much else than breeding. it’s very funny. the man meets my eyes and promises he’ll put a baby in me. i look down and pretend the thrill i feel is excitement, not fear brewing in me.

the land witch comes by a week before my wedding. she is smaller these days, aging. her apprentice and i get along wonderfully. the two women stand before me, holding something. 

a small box, so tiny and lovely. “break the curse,” the witch whispers, “learn to be happy.”

i smuggle the box, take it everywhere with me. it is days before i have a moment to slip away, to open it by the sea. i take a candle with me, even though my father will notice and be angry.

by the light of fire i read the spell they have left me inside, and then i am so full of gratitude i cannot stop crying.

it must be a full moon, so i must wait. in the meantime, i walk home, and i bake. 

i do not see the seawitch, even though i look for her. maybe i have wounded her, getting married. my father asks why i keep smiling. i tell him it is because i am finally with a man. he grunts and says to stop looking so silly. 

the man kisses me. i let him. we are married on a night with a full moon, and i poison him and my father in the bread i did not eat. i think of how these men were cursed so they could not see a storm coming. i watch them as they lie there, dying, and then i put all of the things i own into a basket for the land witch. i leave it there with a song i wrote for her, a spell i know will make her happy, will stop the aging of her joints, will give her the kind of relief she gave me. 

i go down to the water. i find myself running, even though i am in no hurry. i know the way so well it is like i wake up there, panting. i ask permission first. i lay out the contents of the box, i organize and practice and when the needle and pain comes, i am ready for it. i am used to pain at night. i breathe into it and walk naked into waters that swallowed my mother.

i chew bitter herbs. i swallow fire. i feel myself drown as i change from land witch to sea witch. 

when it is done, i open my eyes in the deep of a moonlit ocean. and i see her. 

this time she does not flicker. this time when i reach for her, she is there, and she is pushing my hair out of my eyes, and we are kissing with the ocean rejoicing around us, and i am laughing, and i hear her voice as clear as bell inside me.

and we live like this, a whole world between us where white horses are the size of pinky fingers and swim with their thin snouts, where i need no candles because i was raised lightless, where we have no servants but the water takes care of us. i show her the magic of land and she unfolds the magic of water. together we are unstoppable. when i come up to the air to sing little girls a promise that they can survive the madness, she sings with me, and we make a beautiful harmony.

So I went to Disneyland recently and had to see Nick and Judy and get a picture with them. They are probably the best looking characters you can find at the parks, and who wouldn’t want to see them?


They noticed my cell phone case and got really excited.

Judy then tried to recreate it.

Which embarrassed the sly fox 🦊


So of course she had to try and make him feel better.

I think it worked. 😁 Only thing that would have made it better would have been a kiss. 🦊❤️🐰

❤️❤️❤️

I love them! These two just need to get married already. Best day at Disneyland ever!!!

august 21st aka fanfic writers appreciation day.

i saw this post going around and i’ve decided to make a post to a) recommend you some great stories and amazing writers, b) give some sort of feedback. i don’t really have that much time to read anymore, so this won’t be that long. as soon as i get more time, i’ll start reading again :) the list is in no specific order, i was going through my “following” list and through my fic recs blog.


@noona-la-la-la  — i recommend literally everything noona ever wrote. i love her style and her plots and the fact that she always manages to exceed my expectations. she’s one of those writers whose stories aren’t just about the smut, which i love. of course, the amazing smut is just a bonus. my favorite story of hers is either unexpected or conditioned (which is also one of my fave tae stories ever. e v e r.) and her vmin threesome the group project is amazing! i’m so far up her ass it’s not even funny, but i seriously love everything about her blog and her writing.


@ellieljade  — amazing plots! a m a z i n g. and the dirty talk! the smut scenes are just too good, and mr.min is my favorite yoongi series. i love the plot, i love the fact that the characters aren’t labeled as good or bad, there’s a lot of grey areas and you never know what to expect. if you want to cry, read her this is how you lose her series and come bitch about it with me. and did i mention sub namjoon? because damn, watch me is amazing.


@avveh — some of the best dirty talk and pwp ever. i enjoy reading her stories from the first one she posted, which is reveries. i don’t even watch the show it’s based on, but i love the series. emily can really suck you into the plot, regardless of the smut. of course, you know me, my favorite is jealousy games because jungkook AND jimin. you know.


@xhixtape — i could go on about lila forever. the flow in her stories is amazing, i love the slow build ups in some stories, and i love the smut in all of them. she’s a huge inspiration for me and her work has inspired a lot of mine, i think i might be her biggest fan. read everything! my favorites are kitten’s got his tongue, good mornings, and vibrations. vibrations, man!!!

@tayegi — lu is one of the OGs of bts fanfics, so i’m sure you’re all already reading her stories. i lover her ocs, i love that they know how to speak for themselves and that they know what they want and aren’t afraid to go for it. my favorites are fuck, marry, kill (because JIMIN), the golden boy because T A E, and friendship goals because TAEGI.


@kimtrain — okay, one good purr had me hooked ! i loved the slow burn and tae′s character and everything about it, from the plot to her style. that’s also one of my favorite tae stories ever.  also, the wings of a devil? b o m b. she has a huge masterlist and i need to read all of her stories.


@floralseokjin — blessed is the day i found out about jordan’s blog. i love everything she writes, i don’t care what member the stories are about because they’re that good. i love her style because it makes me get into the story so much that i can’t stop reading. the first story i read was salt and shadow and i still love it. her jin stories are the best out there and i love reading them. show me might be my fave. also, playing with fire is bomb.


@gukvory —  can you feel it, sugar? is a masterpiece. actually, everything on this masterlist is a masterpiece. i love her writing style, i love the flow, i love the feeling i get when reading her stories. just read everything of hers, you won’t regret it.


@kittae — eva writes for other groups as well! i’ve only read most of her bts stories, and my faves are v-card because it’s the right amount of everything, and favourites and servants is so good! there’s still so many stories on her masterlist to read and i can’t wait to read more. 


@dailydoseofdia — i’m gonna recommend carousel because it’s one of the stories i’ve been meaning to read, but just didn’t have enough time for, even though everyone is praising it. i’ve read dia’s fics and they’re amazing, so i don’t doubt that carousel is just as great. lick was amazing and it’s the first thing i’ve read on her blog.


@chinnychimchim — ah. ah! one of my favorite writers. i seriously love everything she posts, i don’t ever check who the story is about. my favorite has to be reset. it’s such a good story and i haven’t read anything similar, so i love it. cognitive dissonance is also a must read. just read the entire masterist while you’re at it, it’s worth it.


@kstopping  — who doesn’t want a good mmf threesome with vmon? that’s exactly what cinnamon sugar is and i LOVE IT. also tags that crack me up every time.


@jungkookfortunekookies  — for those who don’t read smut, there’s a ton of popular stories on her masterlist, including jungkook roommate series which is so fun and easy to read!


@jeylovestoblog — i’ve heard jey writes amazing reader/girl/member threesomes, so i need to check them out, and i recommend you do the same. she updates often, so i’m sure you’ll find something for yourself.


@rapmonluv — all i’ve read so far is nightcall and it’s enough for me to know i’ll love everything else.


@jingukz — sarah’s stories are amazing and you know that i prefer smut, but her stories are that good. she doesn’t need smut to pull you in, but when it’s there, it’s great. bliss among sinners is probably my fave, but the first one i’ve read is cry me a river and i’m still not over it.


@emboyz — i still need to go through her masterlist, but i’ve read good catch and it’s great!


@pjxmin — i don’t get how everyone’s not talking about her writing. caught in a lie is amazing, proposals is such a good story, her writing is amazing and her stories are fun and they just pull you in. amazing writer!


@cosykims — merlot murders (the crimson killer, kisses of carmine) is the most underrated series i’ve ever read. it has everything and i can’t praise it enough, seriously. you need to read it!


@jiminniemouse — i think i’ve read everything of hers and there wasn’t a single story i didn’t like. i love her style, i love her plots, i just love everything about her writing. purple jewels is so well written and interesting, i can’t get enough. seriously, i recommend everything.


@wonhopes — amanda’s writing is amazing. i think you’ve all read not so honest, but i think my favorite might be cat got your tongue because TAEEEE.


@mindfullofcrazy — i absolutely loved give me love!!!


@hobibliophile — i think i’ve read everything on her masterlist and i loved it! my favorites are take a break (jihope threesome ftw), blue blooded (prince jin!!!), and don’t care about the presents (namjoon being a cutie).


@kainks — i love her writing style! my favorites are new guy and triplicity because damn, hoseok and yoongi threesome? i’m in. orange tulips is on my to read list, i’ve heard great things about it.


@versigny — if you haven’t read miss dial, i don’t know what you’re doing. read it. now. i love it!


@baeseoul  — protege is probably my favorite jungkook series ever. it’s so well written, i love the plot, i love the characters and their flaws, i just love everything about the story. destruction of a muse is on my to read list. just great writing in general, one of my favorite writers.


@protectaetae — i love her writing style! one night snap pt 1 and 2 saved me.


@taehyung-the-baehyung  — closer is amazing and so is the suit and tie series! amazing :)


@jheartseok — i still haven’t read nude, not flowers and i suck because i’ve heard it’s an amazing story. i need to read everything of hers.


@roseok — just read everything. amazing writing.


@drquinzelharleeni’m not a kid is a great series. there’s so much more i have to read from her masterlist, but i like her writing style!


there are a lot of writers who i still need to check out and i’m looking forward to it. i’m sorry if i’ve forgotten someone! if i’ve ever given you a compliment about your writing, i truly meant it. i hope i’ve included everyone. if you go check out these writers, please don’t ask them about updates :)

The Proposal

“Oh, look, Draco. It’s Mr. O’Sullivan, the Arithmancer. We should introduce ourselves,” Harry said in an overly-chipper tone.

Draco eyed his boyfriend speculatively over his glass of champagne. Harry usually hated Ministry events such as this, and he hated meeting the people there even more. Draco did not for one second believe that Harry wanted to meet Mr. O’Sullivan, especially considering that the man’s job was one of the most boring in the Wizarding World.

“Should we now?” Draco asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

“I just said we should, didn’t I?” Harry kept talking in that annoyingly buoyant way and Draco rolled his eyes.

“If you insist, love.”

Harry and Draco crossed the crowded room, Harry’s hand placed possessively on Draco’s lower back. The smile on Harry’s face was about a mile wide when they reached Mr. O’Sullivan. Draco was smiling too, but not in the manic way that Harry was, his was simply a polite nice-to-meet-you smile.

“Mr. O’Sullivan?” Harry said and the middle-aged man who had been gazing out the window turned to face the two gentlemen.

“Yes? Oh, my. It’s you.” O’Sullivan’s eyebrows lept up to where his hairline should’ve been, had he not been bald. Draco’s smile widened almost imperceptibly, as he found it quite amusing when people twice his age were awed to be in the presence of his boyfriend.

“Yes, it’s me,” Harry responded. “I’ve heard that you’re a very talented Arithmancer and I wanted to introduce myself.”

O’Sullivan turned a horrid shade of scarlet as he said, “Oh, my. Oh, my. That’s very kind of you, Mr. Potter, but I’m just one of many Arithmancers in the world. But you, Mr. Potter, there’s only one of you. It’s such an honor to meet you.” O’Sullivan gazed admirably at Harry and only when Draco cleared his throat did he seem to realize that Harry was not alone. “Oh dear. I’m sorry. It’s an honor to meet you as well, Mr. …”

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” Draco said, forcing himself to ignore the way O’Sullivan’s eyes widened as he realized that Harry Potter was accompanying an ex-Death Eater.

When O’Sullivan failed to reply, Harry spoke up, “He’s my fiancé.”

It was now Draco’s turn for his eyebrows to rise to his hairline and his eyes to widen. He and Harry weren’t engaged. If they were, Draco was fairly certain he would know about it.

“Congratulations,” O’Sullivan said. He didn’t sound like he meant it.

“Thank you,” Harry said, his smile as ardent as ever. He promptly led still-confused Draco away from O’Sullivan without so much as a goodbye.

Once they were a safe distance away from O’Sullivan, Draco blurted, “Engaged? Are you completely insane? We’re not engaged!”

Harry winked and replied, “Not yet, we’re not.”

Draco looked at his boyfriend like he was a madman, but was too stunned to argue.

“Oh, look!” Harry’s gleeful voice rang out like a bell. “There’s Mrs. and Mrs. Oswell. Let’s go meet them!”

And for the rest of the night, Harry kept introducing Draco to everyone they encountered as his fiancé. It wasn’t until they were strolling down the streets of Muggle London on the way back to their flat that Draco got to question Harry.

“What the fuck just happened?” Draco said. He tugged on Harry’s hand and whined, “You can’t just go around telling people we’re engaged when we’re not!”

“We will be, soon enough,” Harry said cryptically.

“That’s the most vague yet prophetic thing I’ve heard that didn’t come out of Dumbledore’s mouth.”

Harry chuckled and smirked smugly.

“Are you going to propose or what?” Draco asked anxiously.

“Yes,” Harry answered.

“You are? When?”

“Soon.”

Draco elbowed Harry and scowled. “Soon? That’s all you’re going to give me?”

Harry laughed again. “Yep. Deal with it, Malfoy.”

“Are you kidding me?” Draco let go of his boyfriend’s hand and pouted pettishly.

“Calm down. You knew this was going to happen soon anyway. You’ve been leaving ‘hints’ for me all over the place. You think I didn’t notice when our Froot Loops were transfigured to look like rings?”

Draco had stopped listening to Harry and started ranting about all the things he needed to know about the proposal. “Is it going to be fancy and romantic with rose petals and all that? Or are you just going to hide the ring inside a burrito like a hooligan? Because, I love you Harry, but I’m not willing to risk my life by eating something that contains a ring I could choke on. Which means that I can’t eat anything until you propose. Oh, and what if it’s in public? I’ll have to practice my shocked face. You’re not going to have, like, a secret photographer or anything who jumps out and takes pictures when you get down on one knee, are you? I think I might have a heart attack if you do. Shit. And now I’m also going to have to look really nice everyday.”

Harry shook his head in amusement and touched Draco’s cheek fondly. “Slow down, babe. Everything’s going to be okay. And by the way, you already look really nice.”

Draco sighed and allowed Harry to pull him into his arms. “Thanks, love, but there’s a difference between casually looking really nice and getting engaged looking really nice.”

Harry chuckled. He broke the hug so he could kiss Draco. “Well, I think you look nice enough to get engaged right now,” Harry said slyly.

“You mean-” Draco started and Harry nodded.

“The ring is in my pocket,” Harry told him. Draco nearly stopped breathing right then and there.

Harry smiled as he got down on one knee and retrieved a white velvet box from his dress robes. He snapped open box to reveal two rings, one gold and one silver. “Dra-” was all Harry got to say before Draco interrupted him.

“Yes,” Draco said, his eyes fixed on Harry’s.

“You have to let me ask you first,” Harry pointed out.

Draco frowned. “Fine.”

“Draco Malfoy, I love you and I cannot imagine a life in which I don’t. You-”

“Yes,” Draco said, cutting off Harry again.

“Not yet,” Harry said, a bit irritably.

Draco rolled his eyes and Harry went on, “You’re my keeper, my person, my everything. I want you to be my husband too. Will you-”

“Yes.”

“Stop doing that. I’m trying to make a memorable moment here.”

“Right now the only thing memorable about this moment is how much of an insufferable prat you’re being.”

Harry scoffed. “I’m the insufferable prat?”

Draco groaned loudly. “You’re killing me, Potter. Would you just ask me to marry you already?”

“Fine,” Harry said petulantly. Then, tenderly, “Will you marry me?”

There was a beat of silence and Draco didn’t say anything.

“Are you for real right now?” Harry asked.

“Well, I don’t know if I want to marry you anymore. You were being mean,” Draco said, crossing his arms childishly.

“You kept interrupting me! Will you just fucking marry me already?”

Draco stroked his chin, pretending to consider before finally answering, “Yes. Of course I will, you git.”

Harry grinned and laughed. He slid the silver ring onto Draco’s finger and the gold onto his own. After shoving the box back into his pocket, he stood again and pecked Draco lightly on the lips.

“That’s it? That’s our engagement kiss?” Draco said.

Harry laughed wickedly and dragged Draco into a nearby alley.  

“No, this is our engagement kiss,” he said. He pulled Draco into a deep, passionate kiss and Draco Disapparated in an instant, apparently very eager to celebrate the engagement in a deeper, more passionate way.

Jungkook as a Husband & Father //

Request:  Jeon Jungkook as Husband & Father please. Thank you so so much 😚

Ayeeee the Kim Namjoon as Husband and Father was so cute I can’t even 😍 Can you please do a Jeon Jungkook as Husband and Father 💙

Originally posted by jkguks

As Husband:

  • Let’s get .. kookin’…….
  • This guy
  • He would be so charming, 
  • but so inexperienced
  • A lot of the time while you guys were still dating
  • you would be intrigued with just how goofy he was
  • He would always try his very hardest to be a gentlemen
  • getting advice from his hyungs while he first began dating you
  • whenever you fought, 
  • it wouldn’t be much of a fight
  • but he would still feel bad for making you uspet and show up with some form of apology
  • whether that be flowers
  • chocolate
  • video games to play
  • movies to watch
  • anything to make you happy again
  • He treated you like his queen
  • his goddess
  • When the day came that he was like
  • ready to propose
  • It was kind of funny because like
  • his hyungs would have to almost put it in his head
  • He wanted to marry you don’t get me wrong
  • but after three years of being together
  • they asked him 
  • “Isn’t it time that you stop keeping her waiting? Marry her already kook.”
  • then that kind of jump started him to preparing a way to ask
  • The night he would do it
  • would make him SUPER NERVOUS
  • your kookie♥♥
  • He would take you to the top of a building in seoul
  • looking over the city lights 
  • where he set up a projection screen and a small candle lit picnic dinner
  • He would play your fave movie 
  • (personally I think tangled would be cute in this situation)
  • (I’m just going to act like the movie was tangled……)
  • So you guys would be in the middle of watching tangled.
  • And when they were singing about seeing the light at last
  • and you were all snuggled up to your Kookie. 
  • He would pull out the ring, holding it up in front of you.
  • “You’re the light of my life Y/n. I need to wake up to you every morning, knowing that you as my light, are also my wife. Will you marry me?”
  • You couldn’t even finish the movie, you were so shook. 
  • Of course you would say yes !!!
  • The wedding was sweet and intimate and the theme color was dark blue
  • while the overall theme would be starry night…..
  • sounds basic but I think it’d be really sweet.
  • Imagine with me babies:
  • A night sky, clear and filled with stars.
  • candles lighting the aisle as you walked down. 
  • Twinkling lights surrounding the archway of the alter
  • while your guest held flowers that could illuminate and ooooooo. 
  • By the time you got to your honey moon destination. 
  • The passion and heat between you both was unstoppable.
  • He may be your prince in the streets, but he was a BEAST IN THEM SHEETS!! 
  • which led to!!!

As Father:

  • You guessed it, a baby!
  • He was the cutest father to your baby.
  • He would always dress up for them when they cried,
  • always kissed and snuggled your baby
  • to the point where you wondered why you even bought a crib
  • like this boy would use up all his energy for that baby
  • that when it was time to sleep, he would knock right out with them
  • diaper changing was a hassle though
  • At first, he just made a bigger mess….
  • I mean like…
  • a korean horror story.
  • anyway…
  • He would be the king of piggy back riding
  • and when they were old enough, he introduced..
  • The Videogames.
  • Dear god.
  • Like father like child. 
  • You couldn’t help but love them both to death
  • and He loved you with everything in his very being.
  • You guys were the cutest, small family on the block.

shirabuwu  asked:

Letter - Mother Mother/victuuri for the ficlet prompt!!

i like this song omg! so cute 💖 have something related to the colours soulmate au that @witchfell and i came up with a while back!


Dear Soulmate,

My name is Viktor Nikiforov, and I am six years old. Your colours are blue in my head. I wonder if you are a baby. My teacher Miss Irina hepled me with my spelling. I wish you were older so we can play together. Do you like ice skating? I like ice skating. We can ice skate together when you get older!

Love,
Viktor (age 6, Russia)


Dear Soulmate,

I wonder what colour I am in your head. You are such a beautiful blue in mine, pulsing gently with all of your emotions. We have to meet in order to start hearing each other’s thoughts, so I can’t wait for us to meet so that we can talk secretly through our thoughts too. There’s so many things I’d like to tell you that I can’t tell my parents or Yakov. I would tell my dog, but he can’t talk back like you could. I bet you would like my dog. He is a puppy named Makkachin. I got him for my ninth birthday after I won a skating competition! It wasn’t much, just a regional competition. I want to be good enough for Nationals soon, though!

Love,
Viktor (age 9, Russia)


Dear Soulmate,

Are you skating, too? I can feel you flying in my head somehow. Maybe you are doing something else, but it’s the same feeling I get out on the ice, so I hope it’s because you’re learning how to skate. I was getting a bit scared to have a soulmate who didn’t skate, or who hated skating. I mean, I would still love you even if you hated everything about the ice, but it’s a lot easier this way! I’m preparing for the Junior Grand Prix now. I wanna win gold in the Junior Grand Prix and then move up to Seniors next year and eventually become the world’s best skater. It would be amazing if we could skate on the same ice together, so I hope you work hard at it, too!

I know in my previous letters I don’t talk about much else. But then again I guess there isn’t that much in my life besides skating and my dog Makkachin. My family is nice I guess but my parents are never home, so I spend all the time at the rink with Yakov anyway. My rinkmates are friendly but I can tell they think I’m weird because I’m so focused on becoming the best figure skater. I wish I had you to talk to. You never respond to these, but then I don’t expect you to. 

I wonder where you are, my soulmate, and what you do, and what your family’s like, and if you like dogs. I want to know everything about you. All of your likes and dislikes, all of your hopes and fears. I guess we’re supposed to love each other already, but I don’t know if you will. I’m kinda weird. But maybe you’re a little weird, too. I’d like that, if we were a little weird together.

I tend to ramble these days, so I think I’ll shut up now. 

Love,
Viktor (age 12, Russia)

P.S. My coach and my ballet teacher are soulmates too. And they’re married. I wouldn’t expect you to want to marry me, though! But it’s a thought!

P.P.S. Please say you like dogs! 

Keep reading

The night Victor and Yuuri get married is three weeks before their wedding date, because Yuuri can’t sleep.

Victor rolls over in the night to find his right side unusually cold and empty, the sheets pressed down into the mattress and the covers tossed aside. He searches first: still only half-awake, his arm stretching over the empty space beside him as he reaches for someone who isn’t there. This wakes him fully. Victor’s not alarmed, exactly, after months of engagement and years of being in love; but Yuuri is always there. Even in the mornings when Victor wakes first,  Yuuri is always there.

He sits up blinking sleep and darkness from his eyes so that he can peer through the dark to find him. Yuuri isn’t hard to find, thankfully, just a bundled-up shape at the foot of their bed, his arms wrapped tight around his knees. Victor sits up further and calls to him (”Yuuri”), because here is something that’s worth alarm.

“I’m okay,” Yuuri says immediately, and then, “Victor.” He’s climbing back over the covers, crawling across Victor’s knees to kiss him, and Victor’s still barely upright and holding himself up on an arm propped behind his back, but he’s kissing back because he doesn’t need a reason. Yuuri’s fingers are on his cheek and Victor’s hand is in Yuuri’s hair, and maybe it’s the kisses or the fact that he’s still half-awake, but Victor trips over his own tongue to say, “Let’s get married.”

The tension in Yuuri’s shoulders vanishes. He smiles halfway into his kiss against Victor’s lips. “We are getting married,” he reminds Victor firmly. Then again, whispered, as though in bewilderment, “We are.”

Victor brushes his thumb over Yuuri’s chin. “Not soon enough. I want to be married to you now.”

Keep reading

DTR

DTR= Determining the Relationship. (It’s an inside joke and I’m the only one who’ll understand it lol). 

Requested by @mikimiska113 and @flyinposts and a bunch of anons. 

The boat rocked on the waves, the soft ebb and flow washing against the exterior. It was choppier than normal and she knew that some of the crew members would be up on the top deck being sick over the side of the boat, but Dany never was. She was just at home on the water as she was on land. She liked to think it was because something in her remembered her flight to Dragonstone when she was nothing more than a spark of possibility; remembered her family being torn apart. 

It reminded her of all the time she spent on ships as a child, fleeing from one place to another but never settling down long enough anywhere to truly call it her home. It reminded her of nights when she’d played quietly in the corner with her dolls, or read by candlelight, or sat and stared out at the waves praying that Viserys wouldn’t look at her in that way he so often had. 

But she’d never expected this. Not even in her wildest daydreams, the ones she’d laughingly confessed to Missandei during her nightly baths. 

Their lovemaking had lost its feverished pace a long time ago; now the sex was soft and exploratory, the passion quiet and restrained as the events of the day caught up with them and they lost the initial frenzied desire to make each other theirs. 

He had a beautiful body. She didn’t know why she’d never noticed it before; she’d noticed, certainly, how the hard lines of his muscles stood out on his chest and how soft and silky his hair was-but now that she could see it in its entirety, the hard lines and smooth planes, the scars on his chest that did nothing to mar his beauty but added to his intrigue…all she could do was kiss him again and again, feeling her mouth meld into his…

She let out a little moan in the back of her throat and Jon’s lips traced along her collarbone. She couldn’t remember ever being loved like this, ever even imagining a love like this was even possible…

Just then the door opened. “Your grace, I was hoping that we could discuss-”

They quickly disentangled themselves. Dany looked around somewhat desperately, casting about for her clothes-which had somehow ended up on the other side of the room. Jon looked just as abashed, and eventually she compromised by pulling the blanket over both of them. “Yes Lord Tyrion?”

Tyrion didn’t look fazed-or at least, if he was surprised to see them both naked in her chambers he didn’t say anything about it. “I can see the two of you are busy. I’ll come back in the morning.” He turned and left abruptly, making sure he closed the door behind him on his way out. 

There was a long silence between them. It was one thing to make love when you were sure you weren’t being watched and no one knew, where you could forget about it in the morning if something went wrong. It was quite another to know that you’d been discovered and found out. It added another level of realism to the entire encounter, like a dream they could wake up from. 

And she didn’t want Jon to leave. Not now. Not like this. 

He laughed softly and she couldn’t help laughing either-though her heart beat nervously, wondering if this was the moment when they would both come to their senses and realize that they shouldn’t be doing this. “I suppose we could have been quieter…”

“I don’t want to be quiet,” she replied. “He should have knocked.” 

He lay on his back and for a moment they were silent, listening to the water lap against the boat’s hull. She was tempted to say something, to break the silence that had somehow sprung up between them…but she stayed quiet, sensing Jon was just gathering his thoughts as he so often did. He was never one to speak his mind, without thinking it through first. 

Finally he sat up abruptly, the sheet falling down and making the candlelight dance across his chest. “If I was too forward-”

She had to kiss him to keep him quiet, to convey all of her love for him and all of the happiness he gave her, simply be being who he was. “You were wonderful.” 

“We shouldn’t be doing this…”

“I know.” But neither of them made any move to get out of bed; it might have been the wrong time, the wrong place, but there was something that pulled them together-some kind of thread that kept them from straying too far from each other. “Do you always wear your hair that way?”

He touched the top of his bun, looking hurt (Tyrion sometimes said that his hair was almost as pretty as hers). “What’s wrong with it?” 

“It just doesn’t seem comfortable to sleep in.” She raised a hand to touch it and he didn’t tell her to stop, even as she took out a handful of pins. His hair cascaded down around his shoulders, smooth and silky, and it fell through her fingers like water when she touched it. It nearly made her wet again. “You should wear your hair down more often, Lord Snow.”

His smile was abashed but his touch was firm as he touched her own hair, the intricate braids that criscrossed the back of her head. “And how long does it take you to do your hair in the mornings?”

Without taking her eyes off of him (she loved his eyes; she could get lost in his eyes) she started to undo the braids that Missandei had done up so carefully that morning. She felt strangely exposed when she let her hair down, feeling its weight touch the back of her neck. It felt as if she was showing him part of herself, something that she hadn’t shown anyone in a very long time-especially not a man. 

Braids were strong and powerful; another part of a mask she almost never dropped.

She turned on her side to face him; he ran a hand down her shoulder and along her arm, eventually taking her hand. They were so close; she could have reached out and touched the scar over his heart, the scar she had kissed earlier in the night. When she spoke again her voice was low; there was something about the moment that felt sacred and she didn’t want to disturb it. 

“What do we tell him?”

“What can we tell him? It’s a bit hard to explain away…all of this.” Or mistake it for anything other than what it was.

“He’s too smart,” she replied. “Whatever we say he’d see through.”

“Is he going to lecture us?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know what he can tell us that we don’t already know.” She knew this wasn’t a good idea-they both did. In another lifetime, maybe-maybe the King in the North and the Queen in the South could have married for political strength and personal happiness. But they were fighting wars on multiple fronts and it seemed wrong, sacrilege almost, to think about love in a time like this. 

And now that she’d met Jon, she didn’t want to think about her life when they inevitably parted. 

He sighed, moving a bit closer as if he wanted to embrace her again. “It’s always been dangerous before. We know that.” 

“And this can’t change our goals. It doesn’t change who we fight for.” 

“We’re fighting for the same thing. We’re fighting to survive. Anything besides that…it’s a distraction. We can’t afford distractions right now. When the war’s over we’ll figure out the rest of it.” Gods, he looked like an angel-and he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. 

She didn’t know that anyone had looked at her like that before. “We might not survive the wars to come.” 

“I know. But we’ll fight, to the very last.” 

“We can’t afford to be divided, not now. We’re stronger together.” She fingered the scar on his chest, feeling his heart beating underneath it. His pulse was a bit erratic, probably from their lovemaking, but still strong and steady. Alive. 

Unlike Viserion’s heart, that would never beat again. We’ll fight and survive. We have to. Otherwise he died for nothing. “ I said we would destroy the Night King and his army together, and we will. We have to make something good come out of all of this suffering.” 

Their feet touched beneath the sheets. She wondered if this had always been meant to happen, the two of them on this boat, from the moment they’d first met. Had there been some inevitability to it? Had she known, the first time she’d seen him walk into her throne room, that there was something about him that was different from any man she’d ever met?

“I’m afraid.”

He didn’t look phased. He didn’t even look surprised. “I’m afraid too. I would be surprised if you weren’t.” 

The dragons flew over the boat; their roars shook it to its foundation. Only two…Viserion’s was strangely absent. She hadn’t realized that she could pick them apart individually, until his was gone. For the first time she felt unsteady, unsure. Maybe even afraid. 

It felt like they stood on the edge of a precipice; if they stepped too far in any one direction, they would fall. 

But then again, perhaps they’d made that decision as soon as her bedroom door had closed behind them. 

“Will you stay here? I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” 

“Neither do I.” 

They shared a few last kisses, slow and deep and probing, as if trying to make up for the fact that they didn’t have all the time in the world left to them. Jon dropped off first; she could hear his breath even out, see his eyelids slip closed and stay that way. 

She fell asleep a bit later, twining her hand in his. 

This is going to be a two-shot of sorts because I’ll be writing the morning after oneshot tomorrow. 

Ringtone

Warnings: Fluff? Seriously, it got out of control with this one

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Shawn doesn’t believe it when Brian tells him what your ringtone is. So, being the scientist that he is, he tests it out.

A/N: wrote this as an apology for how long it’s taking part 4 of tattoos to come out, please forgive me :) fyi it’s coming out on Sunday the 29th (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) (as you can see, I’m so not excited) 

Also, if you like this, send me ur fav Shawn quote whether it be lyric or some random shit he’s said

Masterlist


“Why don’t you believe me? It’s true!” Brian exclaimed, his voice slightly muffled to Shawn since it was a phone call.

“Cause I know her ringtone. It is not one of my songs.” He said, confident in his knowledge.

“Well, she changed it since you’ve started the tour. It’s an acoustic version too. Sometimes it sounds like you’re singing it right there. Probably why she has it. Since I’ve been staying at the apartment, it’s all I hear cause you keep calling her. If you don’t believe me, then come see for yourself. Aren’t you coming next week?” 

Keep reading

Imagine people assuming you and Jared are a couple so he gets asked about you a lot in interviews, which makes him shy because he has feelings for you.

“It must be amazing to have such a great addition to the cast for this season huh? Everybody is so eager to see (Y/n)’s character interact with Sam and Dean!”

“Yeah the entire cast and crew is really excited for this.” Jensen nodded his head “You know, she’d always come around and everybody already adores her because it’s impossible to not love her. You know, there was never really a reason but she loved to pay a visit to a certain someone-” he glanced at Jared who rolled his eyes with a smile “Claiming it was just to see all of us, but I never once believed it.”

“Come on man, you’re just jealous she loves spending more time with me than you!” Jared exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and Jensen merely shrugged.

“Yeah, hanging out is what we call it now.” Jensen scoffed “You know, it’s just a good thing she won’t have to try and come up with a reason now every time she visits.”

“Well, I am sure that despite everything this is going to be a great experience! And I’m sure, Jensen, that since (Y/n) and Jared are such a lovely couple it is only fair they spent some more time together.” she said with a shrug and both Jensen and Jared’s eyes widened, but unlike the younger man Jensen burst laughing.

“Wh-what?” she chuckled.

“We- we’re not together.” Jared shook his head and hands “We’re just- (Y/n)’s my best friend, we’ve known each other since we were kids. It’s all- we’re friends, that’s just it.”

“Oh oh? Really? I’m- Forgive me, it’s just with all the pictures the two of you upload and with how much you’ve been seen out, hugging and almost cuddling, going grocery shopping together and actually seeing you get out of her house early in the morning it’s-” she shook her head with a laugh.

“Yeah, no we’re just friends. It’s friendly.” Jared said with a shy laugh, mostly because he knew that at least from his side it wasn’t like that.

“Hey, we’re friends too but you’ve never went grocery shopping for me!” Jensen exclaimed, all the time that wide grin on his – knowing above all – annoying but mainly scaring Jared. Who knew if you were actually watching the interview or not? He swore if you ever found anything he’d just crawl under a hole and die of embarrassment.

“Are you jealous now?” Jared asked him with a nervous smile but Jensen just shrugged trying to seem innocent.

“All I’m saying is: You don’t usually want to marry your best friend and have kids with him!” he raised his hands in the air as Jared’s eyes widened “So yeah, you and me are best friends. What you have with (Y/n) I am not going to say because I’ll be found dead in my house tomorrow morning!”

“Oh no don’t worry, you’ll be dead by tonight judging by the look on Jared’s face!” the interviewer laughed, pointing at the younger man.

“Oh you bet!” Jared exclaimed “I am already trying to find a way too!” he laughed awkwardly, hiding his face behind his hand “I still have no idea why I hang out with you.”

“Oh no no, you hang out with (Y/n).” Jensen pointed, making quotes with his fingers “Let’s not confuse those two! Cause I really bet you don’t have the same intentions you have for her when we are out.”

Jared opened his mouth to speak but actually didn’t when he felt his phone vibrate. He did shoot Jensen a glare when he spoke “Ten bucks it’s her!”

And as much as Jared wanted to retort the message he got from you made all air leave his lungs and his heart leal to his throat “We are so not naming our first son Jensen! Pick me up at seven so we can hang out a little more ;) xx’