it's very small and new and not all there yet you can still sort of see through it

Through Their Eyes - One Shot

Happy Valentine’s Day to my lovely readers with a Happy Birthday one shot to him that is almost exactly two weeks late! Inspiration and time are funny that way – always against you, you know? ;) Enjoy, loves. xx

Anybody would have to be blind not to see it, and his mother thinks he is and you are, too.

 Her beautiful boy has always been a bit oblivious. He’s incredibly smart, she’s proud to say, and very astute, but sometimes – only sometimes – he can’t see past the end of his own nose.

 He’s in love with you. She’s suspected it for awhile, but tonight it’s painfully plain to see. Her son, her youngest, her baby, loves you.

It’s more than a passing fancy, because he would have stopped lighting up in the same way when you walked into any room if it was as simple as that. And it’s more than the love that comes with strong friendship, because if it stopped there he wouldn’t look at you the way those thousands of adoring fans look at him – like he just wants one chance, just the one, to show you how good he’d be for you and to you.

 None of his friends see it – they’re all too far gone into the alcohol and guffawing as they have go after go at him in the name of good fun, and he just laughs along with them with crinkle-eyed, dimply humor.

 You don’t see it either. You don’t see it when he looks up at you with adoration that shines, unbridled, thanks to the liquor in his veins.

 You don’t even see it when he leans his head against the gentle curve of your hip while you stand next to him, one eye drooping just a little more than the other as he listens to whatever story is being told before giving in and letting them fall shut as you rake your fingers through his thick curls and massage his scalp. He does love a good pet, but he doesn’t reward all the people who comply by turning his head inwards and giving a little kiss to the hip that’s been his pillow.

And her boy – her birthday boy – he doesn’t see it at all.

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Pretend | Park Chanyeol

Link to Masterlist

Royalty AU | Arranged Marriage AU | Slight Angst 

Summary: You’re unsure but hopeful about your arranged marriage to the handsome Prince Chanyeol of the neighboring kingdom. But you’re in for an unpleasant surprise when you find out he’s in love with someone else, and completely despises the idea of being married to you. 

Word Count : About 5.5k (i don’t know how this got so long)


A/N: I was originally considering making this a series because it’s so long, but I think it works as a super-long oneshot? I do hope you enjoy this, it’s probably the most ambitious thing I’ve attempted to write :) 


“Are you ready, your Highness?”

“I will be in just a minute!” you said, as your lady-in-waiting, Lily, gently placed the delicate tiara on your carefully styled up hair. You took a deep breath and stared at your reflection in the mirror.

“You look absolutely radiant, Princess,” she said, smiling. “I’m sure Prince Chanyeol will be swept off his feet with one look at you.”

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Gold Digger

Reader x Elijah Mikaelson

(NOT MY GIF)

*requested

Imagine: You are in a long-term relationship with Elijah Mikaelson and is very happy with it. One day, when he requests you to go over to his house to meet oficially his siblings, Hayley accuses you to being with him only for his money and power, which leaves you heartbroken.

tagging: @chocolatemonkeyrainbows :)

Word Count: 3172


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Church of One

An American Gods/Hannibal mashup for Fuller Fest. (Eventually going to post on ao3)


“The next one we’re going to is out in the sticks,” Wednesday said. “This time of year, they’ll be at their summer home in Montana. When it gets colder, they head for the warmer climes. The Florida Keys. Too bad its not winter.”

Shadow said nothing. They were going there for business, not a vacation.

“This man we are going to see…It could go either way,” Wednesday continued. “He’s a mixture of old and new; born out of brimstone, but suckled at the teat of Media. He could be an important ally.”

“If you can get him,” Shadow said.

Wednesday raised an eyebrow.

“I mean if he suckled at Media’s…teat..or whatever, will he want to turn against her? Isn’t she like his mother?”

Wednesday chuckled. “Relationships between parents and children can be fraught with conflict. I hope to agitate those feelings.”

“Stirring the shit as usual?”

“Stirring the shit,” Wednesday agreed. “Seeing what floats to the top.”

The last stretch of road was little more than a footpath through the trees. Shadow thought they would have to get out and walk at any moment, but somehow the large car kept finding a way between the trees until they finally came to a small cabin sitting in a clearing. Half a dozen dogs came from around the back, barking and rushing the car.

“Shit!” said Shadow and barely pulled his door closed in time as a husky mix jumped up and braced his front paws against the driver’s side window.

A sharp whistle from the cabin called the dogs away from the car. A dark-haired man stood on the porch, hands in pockets, watching sternly as the pack ran up the stairs to join him. However, for all his serious expression and scarred face, he didn’t look like a child of brimstone.

“You can come out,” the man on the porch said. Shadow opened his door slowly, waiting for the dogs to rush them once more, but they stayed seated at the man’s feet.

“Thanks for calling off the hounds,” Wednesday said as they mounted the porch.

The man eyed the wooden box Shadow was carrying and, still unsmiling, said. “He’s waiting for you inside.”

The cabin was small and the front door opened directly into the main room. There was a fireplace on the far wall, and although it was a warm day there was a fire roaring in it. A man sat in front of the fire, but slightly to the side, so he was half in shadow and half illuminated by the flames. The firelight played over the severe planes of the figure’s face and the knife-sharp pleat in his trousers.

“Come in,” the man said, his voice resonant with a strange accent Shadow couldn’t place. He leaned over and turned on a lamp and Shadow could see him better. The severe bone structure was still there, but with the full light on him, he was softened somewhat and  looked like a normal, if fastidious man. He was wearing navy blue slacks, dress shoes, and a smoothly-ironed electric blue shirt that lost none of its formality by having the top button left undone.

“I brought a gift for the host.” Wednesday motioned for Shadow to hand over the tributes: a single white truffle, sealed tight in a glass jar with a cork and red wax seal, and a bottle of wine still in the wooden crate they transported it in. On the way here, they had swaddled it like a baby so the ride wouldn’t shake up the sediment.

Their host stood to receive it.

“It’s a good vintage,” he said, using his thumb to wipe dust from the label. “Just barely. Its teetering on the edge of being overblown. We should drink this soon. Maybe tonight.”

“It needs to settle,” Wednesday said. “From the trip.”

“Would you at least stay for dinner? Will and I don’t often have guests.”

“Absolutely not,” Wednesday said with a smile. Curiously, the other man did not seem to take offense to that. “Unfortunately, we are in a bit of a time crunch.”

“I heard,” their host sat and indicated a chair next to his for Wednesday to sit in. “I don’t have another chair. How rude of me. Should I have my consort bring you one?”

“I like to stand,” Shadow said.

Their host nodded deferentially then turned to Wednesday. “Are you here to ask for my help? I’ve heard you’ve been supplicating all over the country and finally you find your way to me. I don’t know why I should consider helping you. Would you even want my help? I’m so far down on your list.”

“That’s more a function of geography than lack of respect,” Wednesday said. “Of course I respect you. You are the newest old deity I know. An old soul in a glossy new package. You could play an integral part in the war that is coming, the fight for the hearts and minds of this land. Let’s face it, you could only exist here, in this country, with a 24-hour news cycle and tabloid journalists scrabbling for profundity. But they have the depth of a wading pool and the attention span of a mayfly.” Wednesdays voice got low. “They are already forgetting about you. Last week there was a man in Florida who bit his girlfriend’s tongue off while they were fucking because he wanted to know what it would taste like.”

“Chewy, I would guess.” the man looked up at Shadow with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “At least they usually are, in my experience.”  Shadow felt a chill in the overheated room.

“They are already forgetting about The Ripper,” Wednesday said.

“They will never fully forget about me,” he said. “I will be feared in nightmares and taught in classrooms–”

“In a few years you will be on internet listicles with names like ‘Ten Shocking Killers You’ve Never Heard Of.’”

Shadow saw the anger flare up in the man’s eyes, although he remained perfectly still and otherwise expressionless.

“Such meager offerings,” Wednesday said. “Not what you deserve.”

“I have all the worshipers I need,” the man said. “I have my consort who is totally devoted to me.”

“One person? I think you are losing sight of the big picture here.”

“I have a foot in both camps, Wednesday,” he said. “So I have carved out a space for Will and myself that is in neither camp.”

“You make running from the cops sound like a utopia of your choosing.”

“I don’t believe discretion and prudence are the same as cowardice.”

Wednesday leaned forward. “What about the blood sacrifice? What about the meat that is passed through the fire?”

“I told you, my consort is very devoted,” he said. “When I want meat, I have it. Do I want a million people to have a vague idea of who they think i am or one person who knows me totally and would do anything, sacrifice anything to me and for me, up to and including his very life?” Again, the man, this Ripper, looked up at Shadow. Shadow couldn’t understand how brown eyes could look so heat-fired and yet so cold. “I took Will’s child and still he loves me. I spilled his blood and still he loves me. I stripped everything from him, and he is still with me.” 

The Ripper turned back to Wednesday. “ You cannot offer me that sort of devotion if I help you, but I may lose it if you fail. So, no, I will not help you. The outcome of this war does not affect me.”

“Even if it means you become yesterday’s news?”

“Even so,” The Ripper said. “I have created an entire universe for my consort and I to rule.”

“Rule? Rule what? You only have one worshiper.”

“And one is all I need.”

With that, the Ripper stood and showed them to the door.

 Will was still out on the porch when they left, seated now in a rocking chair, with the dogs clustered around him.

“He’s not going to help you, is he?” he said.

Shadow paused, but Wednesday kept walking to the car.

“No,” Shadow said. “He..uh..declined that opportunity.”

Some of the dogs raised their heads, but Will made a sound through his teeth and they settled back down.

“I’m a lot like you, you know. Or I was,” Will said. “I was just a person, not even a particularly religious person at that. I didn’t know what I was getting into. When I finally figured it out, it was too late.” Will leaned down to scratch the ear of the nearest dog. “Tell me, Shadow, have you ever looked the devil in the face?”

Remembering The Ripper’s eyes, Shadow said, “I may have.”

“What if you liked what you saw?”

Shadow didn’t answer. He couldn’t imagine what Will must have gone through to get to this point, if he really was “just a person” to start with.

“You can still go back,” Shadow said. 

“Here’s where myth and reality divide,” Will said. His eyes were the same blue as a cloudless summer sky. “No on wants me back.”

“That can’t be true.”

“Everyone is either dead or glad to see me gone,” he said. “Besides, I keep him away.” He nodded toward the cabin. “I keep the beast sated.”

“Can’t someone else do it?”

“No,” he said. He smiled, looking happy about that. “They tried and they’ve died. And here is where myth and reality converge again: I wouldn’t want to go back even if I could. I’m not bound to his underworld because I ate his food. I eat his food and live in his world because I am bound to him. Nothing else matters.”

“Are you trying to warn me or something?” Shadow asked.  He didn’t want to talk to this man any more. He could feel the fanatical devotion coming off of him in waves.

“Worship whatever gods you want, Shadow. But when you find one who worships you back? Run.”

bela-lugosis-corpse  asked:

I've been thinking about this for a while, but how effective is full plate armour? Was it actually a good way to defend yourself?

Short Answer: Yes. 

Here’s a general rule: People in the past were ignorant about a lot of things, but they weren’t stupid. If they used something, chances are they had a good reason. There are exceptions, but plate armor is not one of them. 

Long Answer: 

For a type of armor, no matter what it is, to be considered effective, it has to meet three criteria. 

The three criteria are: Economic Efficiency, Protectiveness, and Mobility.

1. Is it Economically Efficient? 

Because of the nature of society in the Middle Ages, what with equipment being largely bring-it-yourself when it came to anybody besides arrowfodder infantry who’d been given one week of training, economic efficiency was a problem for the first couple of decades after plate armor was introduced in France in the 1360s. It wasn’t easy to make, and there wasn’t really a ‘science’ to it yet, so only the wealthiest of French soldiers, meaning knights and above, had it; unless of course somebody stole it off a dead French noble. The Hundred Years War was in full swing at the time, and the French were losing badly to the English and their powerful longbows, so there were plenty of dead French nobles and knights to go around. That plate armor was not very economically efficient for you unless you were a rich man, though, it also was not exactly what we would call “full” plate armor. 

Above: Early plate armor, like that used by knights and above during the later 1300s and early 1400s. 

Above: Two examples of what most people mean when they say “full” plate armor, which would have been seen in the mid to late 1400s and early 1500s.

Disclaimer: These are just examples. No two suits of armor were the same because they weren’t mass-produced, and there was not really a year when everybody decided to all switch to the next evolution of plate armor. In fact it would not be improbably to see all three of these suits on the same battlefield, as expensive armor was often passed down from father to son and used for many decades. 

Just like any new technology, however, as production methods improved, the product got cheaper. 

Above: The Battle of Barnet, 1471, in which everybody had plate armor because it’s affordable by then. 

So if we’re talking about the mid to late 1400s, which is when our modern image of the “knight in shining armor” sort of comes from, then yes, “full” plate armor is economically efficient. It still wasn’t cheap, but neither are modern day cars, and yet they’re everywhere. Also similar to cars, plate armor is durable enough to be passed down in families for generations, and after the Hundred Years War ended in 1453, there was a lot of used military equipment on sale for cheap. 

2. Is it Protective? 

This is a hard question to answer, particularly because no armor is perfect, and as soon as a new, seemingly ‘perfect’ type of armor appears, weapons and techniques adapt to kill the wearer anyway, and the other way around. Early plate armor was invented as a response to the extreme armor-piercing ability of the English longbow, the armor-piercing ability of a new kind of crossbow, and advancements in arrowhead technology. 

Above: The old kind of arrowhead, ineffective against most armor. 

Above: The new kind of arrowhead, very effective at piercing chainmaille and able to pierce plate armor if launched with enough power. 

Above: An arrow shot from a “short” bow with the armor-piercing tip(I think it’s called a bodkin tip) piercing a shirt of chainmaille. However, the target likely would have survived since soldiers wore protective layers of padding underneath their armor, so if the arrow penetrated skin at all, it wasn’t deep. That’s Terry Jones in the background. 

Above: A crossbow bolt with the armor piercing tip penetrating deep through the same shirt of chainmaille. The target would likely not survive. 

Above: A crossbow bolt from the same crossbow glancing off a breastplate, demonstrating that it was in fact an improvement over wearing just chainmaille. 

Unfortunately it didn’t help at all against the powerful English longbows at close range, but credit to the French for trying. It did at least help against weaker bows. 

Now for melee weapons. 

It didn’t take long for weapons to evolve to fight this new armor, but rarely was it by way of piercing through it. It was really more so that the same weapons were now being used in new ways to get around the armor. 

Above: It’s a popular myth that Medieval swords were dull, but they still couldn’t cut through plate armor, nor could they thrust through it. Your weapon would break before the armor would. Most straight swords could, however, thrust through chainmaille and anything weaker. 

There were three general answers to this problem: 

1. Be more precise, and thrust through the weak points. 

Above: The weak points of a suit of armor. Most of these points would have been covered by chainmaille, leather, thick cloth, or all three, but a sword can thrust through all three so it doesn’t matter. 

To achieve the kind of thrusting accuracy needed to penetrate these small gaps, knights would often grip the blade of their sword with one hand and keep the other hand on the grip. This technique was called “half-swording”, and you could lose a finger if you don’t do it right, so don’t try it at home unless you have a thick leather glove to protect you, as most knights did, but it can also be done bare-handed. 

Above: Examples of half-swording. 

2. Just hit the armor so fucking hard that the force carries through and potentially breaks bones underneath. 

Specialty weapons were made for this, but we’ll get to them in a minute. For now I’m still focusing on swords because I like how versatile the European longsword is. 

Above: A longsword. They’re made for two-handed use, but they’re light enough to be used effectively in one hand if you’d like to have a shield or your other arm has been injured. Longswords are typically about 75% of the height of their wielders.

Assuming you’re holding the sword pointing towards the sky, the part just above the grip is called the crossguard, and the part just below the grip is called the pommel. If you hold the sword upside-down by the blade, using the same careful gripping techniques as with half-swording, you can strike with either the crossguard or the pommel, effectively turning the sword into a warhammer. This technique was called the Murder Stroke, and direct hits could easily dent plate armor, and leave the man inside bruised, concussed, or with a broken bone. 

Above: The Murder Stroke as seen in a Medieval swordfighting manual.

Regular maces, hammers, and other blunt weapons were equally effective if you could get a hard enough hit in without leaving yourself open, but they all suffered from part of the plate armor’s intelligent design. Nearly every part of it was smooth and/or rounded, meaning that it’s very easy for blows to ‘slide’ off, which wastes a lot of their power. This makes it very hard to get a ‘direct’ hit. 

Here come the specialized weapons to save the day. 

Above: A lucerne, or claw hammer. It’s just one of the specialized weapons, but it encompasses all their shared traits so I’m going to only list it. 

These could be one-handed, two-handed, or long polearms, but the general idea was the same. Either crack bones beneath armor with the left part, or penetrate plate armor with the right part. The left part has four ‘prongs’ so that it can ‘grip’ smooth plate armor and keep its force when it hits without glancing off. On the right side it as a super sturdy ‘pick’, which is about the only thing that can penetrate the plate armor itself. On top it has a sharp tip that’s useful for fighting more lightly armored opponents. 

3. Force them to the ground and stab them through the visor with a dagger. 

This one is pretty self-explanatory. Many conflicts between two armored knights would turn into a wrestling match. Whoever could get the other on the ground had a huge advantage, and could finish his opponent, or force him to surrender, with a dagger. 

By now you might be thinking “Dang, full plate armor has a lot of weaknesses, so how can it be called good armor?” 

The answer is because, like all armor is supposed to do, it minimizes your target area. If armor is such that your enemy either needs to risk cutting their fingers to target extremely small weak points, bring a specialized weapons designed specifically for your armor, or wrestle you to the ground to defeat you, that’s some damn good armor. So yes, it will protect you pretty well.

Above: The red areas represent the weak points of a man not wearing armor.

Also, before I move on to Mobility, I’m going to talk briefly about a pet-peeve of mine: Boob-plates. 

If you’re writing a fantasy book, movie, or video game, and you want it to be realistically themed, don’t give the women boob-shaped armor. It wasn’t done historically even in the few cases when women wore plate armor, and that’s because it isn’t as protective as a smooth, rounded breastplate like you see men wearing. A hit with any weapon between the two ‘boobs’ will hit with its full force rather than glancing off, and that’ll hurt. If you’re not going for a realistic feel, then do whatever you want. Just my advice. 

Above: Joan of Arc, wearing properly protective armor. 

An exception to this is in ancient times. Female gladiators sometimes wore boob-shaped armor because that was for entertainment and nobody cared if they lived or died. Same with male gladiators. There was also armor shaped like male chests in ancient times, but because men are more flat-chested than women, this caused less of a problem. Smooth, rounded breastplates are still superior, though. 

3. Does it allow the wearer to keep his or her freedom of movement? 

Okay, I’ve been writing this for like four hours, so thankfully this is the simplest question to answer. There’s a modern myth that plate armor weighed like 700 lbs, and that knights could barely move in it at all, but that isn’t true. On a suit of plate armor from the mid to late 1400s or early 1500s, all the joints are hinged in such a way that they don’t impede your movement very much at all. 

The whole suit, including every individual plate, the chainmaille underneath the plates, the thick cloth or leather underneath the chainmaille, and your clothes and underwear all together usually weighed about 45-55 lbs, and because the weight was distributed evenly across your whole body, you’d hardly feel the weight at all. Much heavier suits of armor that did effectively ‘lock’ the wearer in place did exist, but they never saw battlefield use. Instead, they were for showing off at parades and for jousting. Jousting armor was always heavier, thicker, and more stiffly jointed than battlefield armor because the knight only needed to move certain parts of his body, plus being thrown off a horse by a lance–even a wooden one that’s not meant to kill–has a very, very high risk of injury.

Here’s a bunch of .gifs of a guy demonstrating that you can move pretty freely in plate armor. 

Above: Can you move in it? Yes.


Here are links to the videos that I made these .gifs from: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vi757-7XD94

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NhWFQtzM4r0

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5hlIUrd7d1Q

some gorillaz headcanons
  • 2d was a teenager during the 90s which means that he knows all the lyrics to all the quintessential 90s songs. when noodle was little they would blast backstreet boys and nsync throughout kong studios and dramatically sing along and jump on the couch pretending to put on concerts. it helped get noodle used to performing and also taught her how to pronounce words in english. even now as an adult noodle will start playing i want it that way on the home speaker system and 2d will show up in the doorway twenty seconds later dramatically screeching “TELL ME WHY AIN’T NOTHING BUT A HEAAAARTACHE.” they both go OFF and have accidentally broken multiple items because they were jamming out so hard.
  • murdoc is half mexican from his mom’s side. it’s part of the reason he went to mexico after phase 1 and why he can speak spanish. he learned rudimentary spanish from visiting his mom in the sanatorium as a little kid, but since he couldn’t visit her much and she died when he was about 11 or 12 he had to teach himself the rest of the language in his 20s.

more under the cut!

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Suck it, ya filthy, fake Redcoat!

LTL, FTP and all that Jazz. Compared to some of the stories here mine is fairly tame, but considering my age at the time, the effort I had put into the whole affair and the resulting payoff, I would consider this pro enough to fit in here.

I’ve lived in Germany almost my entire life, yet through a twist of fate, I grew up learning the English language as a native speaker, since my father emigrated to Germany from the USA. As such, I’ve always had an American accent when speaking English and I’ve never met anyone who thought they felt the need to complain about it. Every time a teacher asked why I spoke English so well I replied that I am a US National by birth because my Father is from the US. All my teachers seemed quite impressed, except this one Hag, half a lifetime ago… If there ever was an award for creepy Anglophilia, she’d be neck deep in honors and certificates. Instead of encouraging me to speak more so that the other students could learn proper pronunciation from an actual native speaker, like many other English teachers at my school back then did, this woman thought it necessary to berate me for “speaking in such a horrible and filthy manner” and “cure [me] of that insufferable atrocity of an accent.” Mind you, these were actual quotes from this woman. My dad was no help at all. He was fairly ignorant about me being bullied by one of my own teachers, and even went so far as to yell at me to “suck it up and respect my elders”. So, yeah, I stuck it up. It didn’t help that I also wrote in American English (you know, color instead of color, tire instead of tyre, cookie instead of biscuit, that sort of thing) and the Hag had the audacity to write these “mistakes” up as double errors, meaning I got twice points deducted for spelling errors that weren’t even actual errors! I was so fed up with this woman and it wasn’t even two months into the school year.

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I’ll Be Seeing You

MASTERLIST

SEND ME A REQUEST

Characters: Bucky x reader

Summary: You lost your vision at a young age due to an infection in your brain and you’ve coped with it well. You’re a successful professor at a local university, casually making your way down the hall when your friend and college Helen Cho introduces you to Bucky. You grow close over several months of late night coffee and the occasional stay in your apartment, but Bucky doesn’t want to tell you who he really is in fear of scaring you off. What happens when a miracle procedure might give you back your sight?

Warnings: light swearing, blind!reader (for most of it)

Words: 4726

A/N: Okay before you read this, I am not blind, I do not know anyone who is blind and therefore this is my BEST ATTEMPT to write from the perspective of someone who is visually impaired. Please don’t be too hard on this. 


It’s amazing just how much of someone you can see when you can’t actually see them.

Your day started out like it always did; with the sound of your alarm blaring in your ear. You reached out to tap at your phone screen, one, two, three times until you finally hit the correct place that disabled the alarm.

The wind whistled and you heard the patter of rain outside of your small apartment. It must be horrible weather, you thought to yourself. You pulled the covers of your bed off of your body and sat up, dangling your feet over the edge of the mattress. 

You propped yourself out of your bed’s compound, feeling along the wall to find the door so you could walk out of your bedroom. Once you’d managed to exit your room, you traced your hand along the walls of the hallways until your fingers caught on a doorway, you turned right.

Your life had been like this for as long as you could remember. You’d lost your sight when you about three years old due to a rare brain infection that the doctors caught a few days too late. It wasn’t all too troubling to you now, you were in your late twenties and had a wonderful job working as an assistant professor at a local university. 

You were happy, every piece of your life seemed to be falling into place… Except of course for love.

You’d been single for so long you almost forgot what it was like to feel someone’s tight and loving embrace or how attached you can get to the smell of the person you love.

So many people had set you up on blind dates - and so many people had made the blind date joke - that every time a friend brought up a ‘wonderful guy’ they knew, you’d shut it down instantly. The blatant truth about every man you’d gone out with on those set ups was this; no one wanted to date the blind girl.

You’d all but given up as you attended friends weddings and baby showers, some of them. Perhaps you weren’t cut out for that kind of life, or at least that’s what you told yourself.

As you went through the motions of making coffee that you’d all but memorized, you felt the empty space of the base of your left ring finger and sighed heavily. 

You drank your coffee in silence, your mind drifting off to the possible face of whoever Mr. Right might be, not that you’d ever see it for yourself.

When you made it back to your closet in your room, you peeled off your sleep shirt, feeling the hangers that hung in your closet for the braille lettering that told you what was hung there.

mom’s favourite dress’

That one you remembered the texture of, it was soft and lightweight but felt beautiful on. You decided that this would be perfect.

You put it on, walking back to your front door and feeling inside the drawers to grab for a pair of flats, which you found instantly by their feel.

You slipped them on and took your keys from the hook that you felt on your right, waiting for the familiar honk of a horn signifying your ride was here. When you heard the sound, you reached forward and grasped the cool metal of the door knob, twisting it and pulling it open, making sure to grab your long cane before you walked out.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” A voice, which you recognized as your co-professor, Helen Cho said.

“Hey!” You said as you felt the padlock for the keyhole, locking it and turning to walk down your porch towards the sound of the idling car.

You felt your cane hit the car lightly, so you felt along the smooth metal surface until you found the handle, opening it and getting inside.

The smell of the mint car air freshener hit your noise rather violently when you entered, but you got used to it after a while.

“Big day today.” Helen said as you began moving.

“Why’s that?” You asked.

“I managed to convince Banner to come and give a lecture on gamma rays.”

“Are you serious?” You gasped. You knew Helen worked for some high end clientele from time to time and only really took up the co prof job because she needed to be busy, but you didn’t know she had that much pull.

“Uh huh.” She said.

“Holy hell.” You mustered, “So we don’t even have to lecture today?”

“Nope, we push everything back for tomorrow.”

“It’s like a day off.” You laughed.


“And so, gamma radiation acts as an invasive form of…”

You had been zoning back in and out of Banner’s lecture, not that it really mattered anyways. It had been about a half hour so you excused yourself, taking your cane and making your way back out into the hallway to take a small walk to stretch your legs. 

You’d made it about halfway down the familiar hallway when you heard a very unfamiliar voice accompanying that of Helen Cho.

“I know it’s hard for you being here, but I figured it would be good for you to meet her, I mean you’re perfect for each other- Oh, hello, (Y/N). Bored of the lecture already?” Helen’s voice said.

“Not that Banner isn’t a wonderful public speaker,” You mused, “But gamma radiation isn’t new for me. Nothing to learn really.”

“I figured as much,” She laughed, “Oh, this is-”

“Bucky.” The voice said.

Bucky had extended his hand shake yours but Helen nudged him and nodded down at the white cane you held in your hand and he understood, his face flushing bright red.

“Okay everyone, I’m blind not stupid.” You laughed, sensing what he’d done based on an immeasurable amount of experience and the awkward silence.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said, extending your own hand out, which he took.

His hands were warm and rough and calloused, large palms and long fingers, but comfortingly so.

“And you.” He replied, something along the lines of shock in his tone, but you shrugged it away. 

“Well, I’ll let you to get back to it.” You said, quickly dismissing yourself and turning to walk back down the hall when Helen stopped you.

“Wait!” 

You turned back around.

“Bucky and I were going to go out for drinks later tonight, I figured you might want to join?”

You hesitated, social outings weren’t your thing, and Helen knew that.

“Or maybe just coffee?” She rephrased.

“Sure, if you want to meet at my place around 9?”

“God, you are such a nightowl.” Helen laughed.

“Yes or no, dearest, it’s not that hard.” You chided her.

“We’ll be there.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Nice meeting you Bucky.”

You finished your day quickly and thanked Helen when she dropped you back off at your apartment, ignoring the ‘wear something nice’ comment she made. You knew she was saying was ‘wear something nice because Bucky is going to be there’, but you didn’t say anything about it.

You didn’t know Bucky, you weren’t looking to impress him. If he turned out to be a great guy after tonight and you saw each other again, maybe you’d consider the whole ‘looking really good’ thing, but not yet. You didn’t want to put that much effort into an appearance that you couldn’t even appreciate yourself.

You made yourself a quick dinner. An aspect of your life that seemed to shock everyone around you was how well you coped independently. You were able to do almost everything by yourself based on muscle memory, hearing, scent, and a little intuition. 

By the time you politely asked siri what time it was, it was around 8:30. You decided to change into a pair of jeans and a soft knit sweater, your favourite one.

You let your hair down from its fastened bun, loose curls hitting your face softly.

A sound of a car door slamming made you slowly make your way to the front door of your flat. You instantly noted that it wasn’t the same sound of slam as Helen’s car.

A buzzer went off and you pressed the button at the door. 

“Who is it?” You asked.

“It’s Bucky.” The voice answered, and you remembered him by the sound.

You liked his voice a lot, it was rough and a bit patchy, but low and smooth sounding somehow.

You unlocked your door and swung it open.

“Hi.” You greeted him, stepping to the side to allow him in.

“Helen sort of bailed.” He admitted, and you noticed that his voice still came from in front of you meaning he hadn’t entered in yet.

This was another schemed date attempt on Helen’s part and you only now figured it out. You mentally cursed yourself for not being wise enough to see through it.

“I just figured I’d swing by and tell you, you probably don’t want to spend the night with a total stranger.” You heard him take a few steps back.

“Well, who said that?” You asked, as if your words came out faster than you could process.

There was something about this man that you liked quite a lot, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. He had an aura about him that you found relaxing.

“The coffee pot is already on, I won’t be able to drink it all by myself.” You said with a smile.

“Alright.” He replied and you felt the wind brush by you as his large frame made it’s way past you.

“Make yourself at home.” You said, moving back into the kitchen once you’d closed the door, “How do you take coffee?”

“Just black would be wonderful.” He said as you waited to hear him sit down on the couch, but no such sound came, “Can I help with anything?”

“Gosh no, sit your ass down.” You laughed, and were overjoyed to hear him do the same.

“Okay, okay.” He said, his footsteps moving back to the living room where he sat on the couch.

You poured the coffee into mugs and carried them out to where Bucky was, knowing he was on the couch. You handed one to him, slightly to the side but close enough that he could reach it, then made your way over to sit beside him.

“So, since it’s now just the two of us, I suppose I should get to know you.” You said.

“Suppose so.” You felt him shift uncomfortably, which made you feel like you needed to back off ever so slightly.

“Unless of course you don’t want to.” You added.

“No, it’s alright. i just don’t usual talk much about myself.” He said.

Bucky wanted to open up to you, just like he wanted to open up to anyone, but you seemed incredibly sweet based on what he’d heard from Helen, and - more importantly - you seemed to not know his history quite yet, so he was unsure about the whole thing.

“Well, you can ask me things and I’ll answer, and if you feel alright with it, you can answer too.” You suggested, sipping your coffee.

“That’s great.” Bucky smiled at your compromise.

For nearly two hours, Bucky asked you a multitude of questions about yourself stemming from what your favourite food was all the way to how old you were when you went blind. After a while, he told you that he wanted you to ask him a few questions, so you questioned him all about his childhood and where he grew up.

Brooklyn was a great place, he explained to you, full of really great people. You loved listening to the sound of his words when you knew a smile appeared on his face, it made everything sound sweeter from his lips.

You were beginning to really like Bucky, you felt a strong bond with him that you hadn’t felt in a long while, and you were enjoying every second of time you spent with him.

“Alright, can I ask you one more thing?” You inquired as a fit of laughter bubbled back down from your chest.

“‘Course.”

“What’s your favourite colour and why?”

“Hmm,” He pondered, “Blue. It’s really calming. Plus it matches my eyes.”

You nodded your head with a laugh, “I wish I knew what colours looked like.”

What you said nearly broke Bucky’s heart, he’d answered the question so nonchalantly.

“I thought you lost sight at three.” He said.

“I did, but even before then I was completely colour blind.”

“Oh,” He said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” You said, “I asked the question because it’s always interesting for me to hear what different people answer… I’ve always felt like I’d like blue as well.”

“Yeah?” He asked, “Why so?”

“Everyone always says it’s calming, or cool, or reminds them of the ocean. It sounds pretty.”

Bucky stared at you in amazement as a thoughtful smile played on your lips.

“Can I ask you something else?” He said.

“Yeah.”

“How do you recognize people?” He whispered.

“Most of it is by voices, or smells,” You explained, “And if I’m close with someone, I usually memorize their face.”

“Memorize their face?”

“Here, like this.” You said, setting your cup down and reaching your fingertips forward until they landed on his cheeks gently. Your one hand moved to his brow, the other down to his brush over his nose. 

You noticed that he’d tensed when you’d first touched him, but seemed to relax a bit more as your moved you hands along him gingerly.

Your fingers brushed down the stubble that dotted his face, moving down to the strong jawline that lay beneath it. Your other hands moved to brush over his closed eyelids, feeling the long eyelashes under them. The thumb that rested by his jaw went to trace ever so gently along upper lip, then back along his lower. You couldn’t help but noticed the cool air pass by your thumb as he sucked in a breath at your touch.

He felt so handsome, and the conversations that you’d had over the past hour only made you more attracted to him.

“Keep your eyes closed and try to do the same to my face.” You suggested, breaking the silence.

In a moment, you felt one hand reach out and press to your cheek, a thumb tracing its way from your brow down to your nose and lips, resting on your bottom lip much like you had to him.

A sigh came from him as you pressed a small kiss to the pad of his thumb. He couldn’t quite comprehend how sweet you’d been with him, but he wasn’t going to question it, not even for a second.

“You should try two hands.” You said, but Bucky looked down at the hand he wasn’t using, the ugly metal limb, and told you he could get by on just using one.

Your index finger made a trail from his chin down his throat and along his adam’s apple, which caused him to swallow rather hard. You knew the impact that you were having on him and it was something that you were proud of.

When your finger made it’s way back up to his lips, Bucky knew he was done for. You were possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and feeling your touch like this was intoxicating.

“One more question.” He whispered.

“Okay.” You said, enjoying the way his lip felt as it moved under you thumb when he spoke.

“Can I please kiss you?”

This time, you didn’t reply with words, you simply leaned in and kissed him, your lips replacing the spot where your thumb had been. You had never kissed anyone quite like that before, so full of passion. It was as if Bucky was kissing you like he hadn’t been kissed in a long time, and like he worried he might never get the chance again.

When Bucky left that night, you pecked him on the lips again quickly, and he assured you that he’d be in touch. 

He kept to his word, calling the next day and setting up another late night coffee date. It continued this way for a good few months, each other you getting together multiple times a week to talk or listen to music, drinking various kinds of coffee all the while. There were times when he’d even stay the night.

The dangerous part of it all was that Bucky knew he was falling in love with you, but he still didn’t know how to tell you who he was. It scared him so badly because he knew you couldn’t love someone like him. A girl like you, with a beautiful heart who brought smiles to the faces of everyone she met, would never fall in love with him.

It was on one night when he was over at your place that he noticed you seemed different. He tried to shrug it off, to get you to laugh, but you wouldn’t.

Fearing the worst, he asked you what was wrong.

“There’s this trial,” You said, “A doctor called me saying I was eligible to be apart of it. They think they can reboot the part of my brain that causes my blindness. They think they can get me to see, again.” You said, your eyes filling with tears of an emotion Bucky couldn’t recognize.

“That’s great, doll!” He said, rubbing your shoulders.

“I know it is, I’m just terrified of the whole thing.” You admitted, “I’ve lived almost my whole life like this.”

“I know, darlin’, but there’s so much out there that you’re missin’.”

“Can I ask you another question?” You said.

“Of course you can.”

“Can you wait during the procedure? They told me if there was someone I wanted with me, they could wait there and come in afterwards.”

Bucky was shocked that you’d want him there, but he agreed with his whole heart, promising he’d take you there himself.

“I want you to be the first face I see.” You said with a smile.

Bucky had never heard anything so beautiful in his life, so he leaned in to kiss you with everything he had, unable to reply with words.

“I love you.” He blurted out.

You, shocked as anything, pulled away from him. Bucky knew he’d messed up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” He began but you shushed him.

“I love you too.”

“What?” He asked.

“I love you too.” You repeated.

“(Y/N).” He whispered, pressing his lips back to yours again.

As happy as he was to hear it, he knew that he needed to tell you who he was. If he was going to lose you, then he needed to put himself through it now and not when you put the pieces together yourself.

“I need to tell you something.” He said between feverish kisses.

“Alright.” You said, still keeping up with the kissing.

“I’m not who you think I am.” He said, trying to slow you down.

“What does that mean?” You said, pressing another peck to his lips.

“I’m not- I did- I’m-”

“You’re James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier?” You deadpanned and Bucky’s jaw dropped, “C’mon, did you think I didn’t know? We met through Helen - who doesn’t talk about it, but works with the Avengers, you never stand to my right which means you avoid touching me with your left side, and when you talk about your childhood, it’s painstakingly obvious that you didn’t grow up in the 90′s like most people my age.”

“You knew?”

“I didn’t until the first night you stayed over.” You told him truthfully.

You squeezed his hand when you felt him shift uncomfortably at the memory. Bucky had a terrible nightmare when he’d slept on the couch of your flat one night, and you had to sprint out of your bed to wake him.

Managing to find him, you’d shaken his shoulder gently, pleading for him to wake up until you’d felt him jolt upright.

He called out your name questioning when he saw you next to him, and you explained to him that he’d had a nightmare. You’d instantly sensed his embarrassment as he apologized for waking you, but you were having none of it. 

You knew him well enough at that point to know that he was all talk when he was trying to convince you he’d fall back asleep just fine. You told him to come sleep in your room, and he stammered out what sounded like a dismissal.

Eventually, after telling him you’d hold your breath until he agreed, he caved. You walked him back to your bed, where he laid next to you and held your hand until morning.

Bucky might never tell you, but he got the best sleep of his life that night.

“You knew?” He asked again.

“Yes, and none of it means a damn thing to me.” 

You kissed him again with a burning passion, tongues dancing against one another as opened mouths melded together.

He’d never felt love like this in his life, and neither had you.


“I’m really scared.” You said as you sat in the gurney of the hospital a few weeks after yours and Bucky’s love confession.

“I know, doll, but it’s gonna go great. I’ll be right there when you wake up.” You felt Bucky’s stubble rub against your cheek as he pressed a kiss to it.

“That is the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.” You mustered a small laugh.

You reached forward with both hands, silently asking him to hold them. You felt his right hand grasp your left, leaving your free hand empty.

“Buck…” You whispered, and he reluctantly held your other hand in his left.

You’d assured him that you liked the arm, it was cold and solid and you loved to press your hand to it and feel the plates rotate when he moved. You saw beauty in its mechanics.

“Is it bad that I’m nervous too?” Bucky asked.

“Not really, I will be seeing your face for the first time.”

“You’re not gonna call me ugly are you?”

You burst out laughing, “I know you’re not ugly.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“I’ve felt your face.”

“Huh, you can tell by that?” He asked.

“Oh, yes,” You replied, “You’re far from ugly.”

A small laugh passed his lips, and you felt your heart flutter. You loved his laugh so much that it had quickly become your favourite sound on the planet, right in front of the almost unnoticeable sound of the vibranium plates in his arm shifting about late at night when he moved about in his sleep, of course.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” You heard the door open and shut closed as someone entered the room.

“Yes?” You asked.

“We’re ready for you now.”

Bucky kissed your forehead as you were wheeled into the operating room, holding your one hand tightly and whispering words of comfort until he was told that he couldn’t go any further with you.

“I love you.” You said, receiving a peck on the lips.

“I love you too.” He said back, “I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll see you after.”

“Yes, you will.”

You felt his hand slowly retreat as they wheeled you into the room and strapped you down with IVs and God knows what else. When you felt a mask go over your face and you were instructed to count downwards from ten, you enjoyed your last few seconds of darkness before you went under.


When you woke you couldn’t see a thing, which alarmed you to an extent that is completely indescribable.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), you’re up.” A woman said, “The procedure was a success.” 

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“You have a wrap covering your eyes, we needed to shield them because they’re quiet fresh at the whole seeing thing, but you can take it off whenever you’re ready.” Her sweet voice said.

“Bucky.”

“I beg your pardon?” She asked.

“There’s a man named Bucky out there, can you send him in?”

“Of course.”

Bucky was in the room within seconds of hearing his name being called, he knew it meant you were awake and that you were ready to see him.

He was ushered into the room and saw you sitting up in the bed, clad in a hospital gown, a white bandage wrapping around your eyes.

Upon hearing the door close, you called out to him, and he was by your side in an instant.

“Hey, doll.” He said, pressing kisses to every part of your face.

“Hi, Bucky.” You said.

You let out a loud sigh and paused for a moment before instructing him to sit down on the bed in front of you.

“May I?” He asked tentatively and you knew he must be talking about the wrap. 

You nodded slowly and allowed him to unravel it until it was completely gone. Your eyes were still closed, but the light that had filtered in through your eyelids made you gasp slightly.

You weren’t ready to open your eyes, not yet.  A wave of panic set in and you couldn’t help but feel tears begin to fall.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Bucky said, his fingers wiping away your crying, “This is all extremely overwhelming for you.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for this.” You cried.

Bucky bit his lip and tried his best to imagine what this could possibly feel like, but he could barely comprehend. Then he remembered the first night that he was over.

“Here.” He said, reaching for your hands and placing them on his face, “Feel for now until you want to see.”

You nodded furiously, trying to keep your hands from shaking profusely as your fingers mapped out the face that you knew so well. 

You felt a flesh hand reach up and trace along your cheek. Bucky had closed his eyes and done the same thing as he had before, except this time after about a minute, he added the other hand, the cool metal of his fingers brushing along your lips.

“I love you.” You whispered, a desperate cry from your mouth.

“I love you too.”

You listened to his breathing, the sound that brought you comfort in the night when he slept next to you, and willed yourself to open your eyes.

Your eyes fluttered open and an unpleasing light filtered in, but your main focus was on the face in front of you. His eyelashes were long against his cheeks as he held them closed, his jaw strong, lips plump.

A sharp cry came your mouth, your hands pulling away from his face as his eyes shot open to see you.

The intense colour of his eyes was something that took your breath away, you’d never experienced anything like it before. You decided that no matter what, that shade of blue would always be your favourite.

You began to sob, tight choking racking your chest as the overwhelming nature of seeing the man you love for the first time - and seeing much of anything at all - hit you hard.

Bucky pulled you into an embrace, holding you like his life depended on it. His heart was so full of love and care for you that he didn’t give a damn if your tears were soaking his shoulder.

Bucky held you for what felt like forever until your cries had softened. When you left, Bucky showed you every beautiful thing he could think of; fireworks, blossom trees, sunsets. He loved to see you light up when you saw something new.

He made a pact to show you every beautiful thing that the world could offer, but you assured him that the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes on was him. And he’d shrug it off, but on the nights when you’d stay awake and stare at him, absorbing every little detail, you knew that it was the absolute truth.

Bucky was amazed by you with or without your sight, because either way you loved him, either way you held him on the nights he couldn’t sleep, either way you were the one he’d run to if anything went wrong.

Either way, you were the only one who had ever taken the time to truly see him for who he was, and his heart beat for you and only you.

What if Neil wrote in a journal everyday and it basically became a sort of scrapbook and his reminder that he has a home and reason to finally stay

  • It was Bee’s idea because Neil finally confined in her that he still has the urge to run some days 
  • Mainly on days when he wakes up from nightmares of his Fathers men and Lola grabbing and torturing him all over again
  • Bee goes through her bookshelves and finds a leather journal that she hasn’t used yet and gives it to him
  • Her advices was to write the date on the top of the page and when the day is done to write everything he’s done or put little mementos in it (e.g. receipt, tickets, pictures

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I Own You - Yandere!CEO!Baekhyun X Reader

Originally posted by daenso

Yandere AU - Part of the Yandere!EXO X Reader Series

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (Prostitution)

Pairing: Baekhyun X Reader ft. Jongdae

Words: 10,244

Warning: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I hope you’re as excited about this as I am! Finally, the next instalment of the Yandere!EXO Series is here! Yay! Sorry it took so long to post, I wasn’t anticipating it to be this long. Once again, this is just my interpretation of this archetype and the song. I do not believe Baekhyun, nor any of the other members, past or present, of EXO would act like this. Feedback is always greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

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Leave This Town Pt 9 (Mechanic!Bucky AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, Nat, Clint, OC Talia. DumDum Dugan and Peter Parker mentioned. 

Summary: After leaving the small town life behind, you’ve worked hard to make your dreams come true. When something unexpected brings you home, you’re brought back to the place where everything changed. Timing is everything and now there just might be a second chance with the man you left behind.

Song Inspiration: Angela by The Lumineers

Warnings: Fluff!!!!

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags are at bottom (TAG LIST IS CLOSED I’M SORRY)

**This fic is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5K AU Writing Challenge**

A/N: Hoo, boy, you guys. I love this part. So much fluff and answers and more questions and so many words!! I just can’t stop myself at this point. There will be more parts. Hope you don’t mind. ;) Any feedback is appreciated! I adore you all!! <3

<<<Part 8    Part 9   Part 10>>> 

Leave This Town Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Originally posted by hotdudesforyou

Previously: 

“Y/N. Just stay. Please? It’s ridiculous for you to go out again in the storm when you’re more than welcome here. I’ll sleep on the couch, I’ve done it dozens of times on accident and I won’t hear another word about it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he held up a hand with a stern expression, so you relented. “Okay. I’ll stay. Thank you, Bucky.”

His face lit up when you agreed, causing that sputtering spark inside you to spread warmth from the inside out.  Tearing your gaze from his, you picked up the remote and pressed play.

_________________

Hearing the actors speak your words and seeing them act out a story that once only lived in your head was still a new and bizarre sensation for you. Beginning with you sitting in a room by yourself, staring at a blinking cursor for hours on end all the way through casting, production and editing until finally it all came to life, it was a miracle. It was also strange and wonderful to see someone witness your work for the first time. You couldn’t stop yourself from observing out of the corner of your eye as Bucky watched the action on the ancient television screen before you.

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Parchment // Slytherin Yoongi x Ravenclaw Reader

he-men-ah asked:
Hi~ hi~ Even though it’s almost 1 am and I should be sleeping 😅 I was scrolling along and saw the post you reblogged with the members in their hogwarts house and I got an scenario idea~ Can you write scenario with Slytherin Yoongi and the reader in Ravenclaw pleeease~??? //Totally not asking specifically because I’m a Ravenclaw psshhhh no way~ 😂😅 Lmao~ Thanks ♡♡♡♡♡

I got sooooo carried away with this one because I freaking LOVED writing it. Honestly, this mash-up was so funnnn ♡ It ended up super long haha so sorry about that. I JUST GOT A TAD EXCITED. It also gets a teensy bit smutty at one point but dw it’s not much. But this was so fun!! I hope you like it!!

Also, I’m gonna dedicate this one to not only you, but also my girl Madelyn of @jinssmile​ because it was her birthday last week and she’s a Yoongi fan too so YO HAPPY BIRTHDAY MADELYN. ENJOY.

Genre: Fluff, semi-smut, Harry Potter AU
Slytherin Yoongi x Ravenclaw Reader
Length: 8.1k

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Harry Potter. None of the settings are mine and all belong to JK Rowling. Gotta say it.


You smoothed down your robes, watching the countryside zip past the small windows of the Hogwarts Express. You were only 11 years old, excited and feeling prepared for your first year at the amazing “school of witchcraft and wizardry”. It had been a dream come true when your letter had arrived. Your parents were just regular people, or “muggles” as all the other witches and wizards called them, so they had thought that the letter was a prank or something when you’d first received it. But as you’d pulled out the piece of parchment and read what was written in the curly green inked handwriting, you knew that it was no joke. It felt too right and explained too much.

Being Muggleborn, you knew absolutely no one on this train. It was the one thing you were worried about at this school. You knew that you would be fine with keeping your grades up, and you weren’t even scared of getting lost, but you’d only found out you were a witch less than two months ago. How were you going to fit in here? The others would’ve surely been raised to expect a life at this school since they were tiny, so would they really accept someone as clueless as you? You’d read up on as much as you could about the school and about magic before you came here so you hoped that you knew enough to at least appear like you were well-versed in all things magical.

Despite all of this you were determined to approach this new experience with zero concerns. You were confident it would turn out okay, so you decided to focus on how amazing all this was. You couldn’t wait to get there, but there was still a long way to go before you reached Hogwarts – you’d really only just left the station. You were fairly sure that you were allowed to have stayed in your normal clothing for a while longer but you were too excited to put on your new robes to wait. You eyed the logo on the front of your robes happily, a small smile appearing on your lips. You were really going. It wasn’t all some crazy dream.

The doors to your carriage opened suddenly and you jumped, looking up to see who it was. There was an Asian boy standing in the opening, a lazy smile on his face. From this distance both his hair and his eyes looked jet black, even darker than his robes. His skin looked white as sugar in stark contrast to the rest of these dark colours. He looked almost like some kind of demon, but you couldn’t recall ever reading about them in any of your textbooks. You made a mental note to look that up once you reached the school and had access to the library. You saw that under his robes his body was slim but at this young age there was still a little leftover baby fat in his cheeks, making him look far less intimidating than you’d originally thought. Those black eyes watched you from where he stood, one hand still resting on the door to the carriage.

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Flashes (Part 3)

Summary: Soulmate AU. “The fault, dear Brutus is not in our stars, / But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” - William Shakespeare (Julius Caesar)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,012

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, it’s actually kind of optimistic???

A/N: Well, I did it…at least I tried. The lovely @minervaem challenged me (sort of) to do an angsty story. I’m warning you now, it’s not gonna be pretty.

Reader has her first flash, and stumbles upon some intriguing information…

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Originally posted by rainy--blog

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i feel it coming | M

“He smelled… different. Powerful. Thirsty. Ready to fucking pounce.”

Originally posted by seokjins-wings

pairing: werewolf! hoseok x reader
genre: smut
warning: a/o/b dynamics, lots of sexual tension, low-key frottage and mentions of impregnation!
word count: 2,524

01 | 02 –– soon!


“Why am I here again?” You frown, eyeing the alcoholic concoction that smells more like a molotov cocktail than a drinkable party punch.

“Because you love me,” Joy whispers in your ear, and you roll your eyes at her silly antics. “And because you and I both know you need some dick, or else you’ll drive everyone at the dormitory insane. Myself included.”

“Excuse me?” You bark quietly, drink forgotten as you watch your best friend saunter away to give some other hybrids the time of the day.

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What Are You Waiting For?

Prompt: My heart belongs to you, if you want it.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2541

Warnings: swearing, angst, sorry y’all it’s another wedding fic because i don’t know how to stop.

A/N: is is for @just-some-drabbles writing challenge, congrats love. ir’s another au, real surprising i know

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Phone Call

Member: J.Seph || K.A.R.D

Genre: Romance, Smut

Short Summary: He was way too far away from her, but his needs were a must- they settled for a medium.

A/N: This gave me a chance to know that I now stan another Kim TaeHyung ;-)

Words: 1k

“This is going to be horribly weird, I hope you know.” She began with a sigh as she lay on her side, phone to her ear.

“I only suggested it, you were the one to agree.” His gentle voice reminded you with a chuckle. “Though… I literally have no idea how to start this.”

Quietly, her sigh made her tremble from the cold atmosphere in the room. “Ugh… So say… I am currently laying in my bed…” her voice, just like her cold body, was shivering with the uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment.

“Yes?” he quietly urged her on, waiting for more details.

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the taste of ambrosia (among other things)

pairing: min yoongi | reader
genre: kiki’s delivery service au / fluff
word count: 8,029
description:
Min Yoongi has always been content with his life as a feline, really, it’s all he’s ever known, but he would be lying if he said he never once imagined what life was like with two legs instead of four. At least until you came along.
author’s note:
happy (late) 18th birthday to my majo bun aka @jungnoir! i figured i might as well write out your fantasies for jiji!yoongi, and even though this is late i hope this mini monster makes up for it. ilysm bb! <3


Desires take form in dreams, in wishes. They’re the sorts of things that cause trouble for people, because sometimes they’ll spend endless days and nights trying to get a taste. It’s akin to ambrosia—a gift from the gods above, like a nectar not just of the sweetest affirmations but the tangy bursts of tangibility. It’s there. Right in the center of calloused palms is a fallen petal from the cherry blossom tree in winter. But, that’s the thing. This is something so fleeting and so potent for the weak-hearted. It’s all hard to believe anyone can get it because as all things do, they fall.

Or, more or less, land uncomfortably.

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Flashes (Part 4 - End)

Summary: Soulmate AU. “The fault, dear Brutus is not in our stars, / But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” - William Shakespeare (Julius Caesar)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,964

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, pain, descriptions of injuries, graphic death

(Do not read if you’re squeamish or easily frightened or triggered by this sort of thing! DO NOT DO IT. I will completely understand.)

A/N: Well, I did it…at least I tried. The lovely @minervaem challenged me (sort of) to do an angsty story. Thank you to my friends Rochelle, Nicole, Lauren, and Bella for their support. I’m sure they are glad to see this go, too, lol.

I hated every second of this story. PS - I’m not doing an alternative ending, I’m not doing a follow-up. I want this gone!

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

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