majestic purple



The Real Prize

Hi lovelies!! This took me so long & I apologize for that! But this is finally done for the Anon who requested, I hope you like it! Enjoy! xx

Imagine: Could you do a story where reader beats Draco at Quidditch (before they’re a couple), and he gets so angry he accidentally lets it slip out that he likes her?

Originally posted by accio-villain-imagines

“Y/N!” Your ears perked at the sound of your own name, spoken with purpose by a smooth, silvery voice.  Although the voice made the hair on your arms stand up with secret excitement, you stopped in your tracks and rolled your eyes.  You sighed, a coy smile tugging at your lips.

“What is it, Malfoy?” you merely turned your head to look over your shoulder at the white-blonde-haired boy, trying not to seem too interested in the beautiful figure approaching you.  The infamous Slytherin Prince smirked.

“I hope you and Y/H are prepared to lose tomorrow,” smugness weighed heavily in his voice.  You gave a small snort of laughter before turning towards him.

“Oh, please,” your arms crossed across your chest.  “Only in your wildest dreams might that happen, Malfoy.  You and your little Slytherin wankers better step up your game before you even think about bashing the team that knocked you all on your arses last week.”

Despite the fact that Draco irritated most beyond belief, you always found him quite amusing, the way he pranced about as if he were a gift to mankind. The two of you weren’t close, but there was always a sort of playfulness between you.

Draco bristled and cleared his throat, clearly taken aback by your boldness. A small smirk remained plastered on your face.  Got you, Draco.  Still, a part of you worried of what his reaction might be.

“Well,” he started, straightening his tie.  “I suppose we’ll just have to see now, won’t we, Y/N?”  His tone was still slightly rigid, but nevertheless he quirked those nearly translucent eyebrows in the manner you and everyone else was accustomed to.  You offered a smile and tilted your head.

“If you mean you’ll see us catching the snitch to win the game, then yes we will see, darling!” with that snide remark (which you patted yourself on the back for), you turned on your heel and walked briskly from the hall.  Draco stood, mouth nearly agape, watching your figure disappear before tugging his robes straight and walking away.  

When you were sure he could no longer see you, you shook your head fervently and bit your lip incredulously.  I can’t believe I just said that to him…to MALFOY. And yet, your eyes were sparkling and your heart beat with a thrill that seemed to stem from more than just a snarky comeback and a playful relationship.  In the back of your mind, you could still see his cool grey eyes watching you and practically gleaming when you spoke.  To your surprise, a tinge of pink danced hot across your cheeks at the thought of him.  

With a shake of your head, you sighed and continued walking until you successfully made it through the interior of the school and out into the pleasant spring air.  You breathed in deeply; the scents of the budding flowers and saplings combined and painted a serene picture across the rolling landscape.  You surely couldn’t complain about the aesthetics of your lovely school.  The chirping of birds overhead drew your gaze before settling on the Quiddich pitch, not a stone’s throw away.  Your eyebrow quirked as you thought of the match tomorrow.  

Might as well get some practice in…after all, now you’ve to prove yourself to Draco.  You sighed and headed towards the locker room where your broom was stored.  After grabbing it from your locker, you made your way to the pitch.  Seeing how it was so unseasonably warm, you kicked off your shoes.

Your toes wiggled in the scratchy, tickly grass of the pitch woven between them. It was still wet with dew from the night before, and your lips curled upon feeling blades squish under your bare feet. Despite your soft displeasure with the foreign sensation, you found yourself suddenly determined and excited for this opportunity.  Rarely could one find the pitch to oneself, and what better way to brush up before the match tomorrow?

A cool, gentle breeze flirted around with your hair, hanging loosely in a band at the nape of your neck.  The wind lingered at a soft consistency, perfect for a bit of flying.

A satisfied smirk landed on your lips as you tossed your shoes into the stands, along with your sweatshirt and scarf.  As you mounted your long trusted broom and ascended a few feet from the ground, you cursed yourself for forgetting a practice quaffle.  Well, now, how are you to practice chasing without a quaffle?

You sighed, but continued into the air until you were parallel with the three hoops you knew so well.  You could imagine the game already, as clear in your mind’s eye as the cloudless sky before you.  The metallic of the snitch would gleam almost as bright as the sun which shone off it just as Madame Hooch released it into the atmosphere, followed by the erratic bludgers and then the quaffle.  Everything would move fairly quickly then.  For starters, you’d race for the quaffle, dodging this way and that to avoid Slytherin players and flying bludgers alike.

As you pictured the exhilarating game, you found yourself ghosting out the movements yourself on the lonely pitch.  You lurched forward on your broom, hurling through the air towards the hoops.  The wind howled and streamed through your loose hair, the band holding the strands in place long lost to the relentless force of your determination.  With an effortless flip in midair, you could clearly picture the quaffle being launched through the tallest of the hoops.  

Panting, you smiled with satisfaction.  Your hair hung in your flushed face and you giggled as you turned and wheeled through the air back to the center of the pitch.  With a few more twists and turns, you paused and hovered far above the starting point.  I suppose this is the view seekers must have, you thought to yourself, glancing around at the new perspective this offered you.  In the distance, you could see the rolling green hills, the majestic blue and purple of the towering mountains, and the daunting mystery of the Black Lake.  It was utterly breathtaking.  Oh, to be a seeker.

You suddenly were reminded of Draco, as he was the seeker for the Slytherin team.  There must be soft spot in his hard exterior; you’d have to be daft not to appreciate what seekers had the privilege of seeing and doing, for that matter.  A blush crept across your cheeks as you imagined him positioned opposite of you.  His white-blonde hair would be positively beaming in the sunlight, slicked back almost too perfectly from his face, which held a constant expression of confidence.  You imagined his grey eyes, so light in the openness of daytime, meeting yours and smiling with play…and perhaps something more.  He’d move swiftly and fluidly through the air as if he were native to the sky.

Before you knew it, you felt a goofy smile creep across your lips.  You pushed your hair back from your face and found yourself laughing softly to yourself.  Merlin, what’s wrong with you?  Why are you thinking so much about him?

“Oy, Y/L/N!” a familiar voice broke you from your thoughts and nearly made you fall off your broom.  You scrambled to keep yourself straight as your cheeks burned.

“Draco!” although you intended your tone to be one of annoyance, you were truly surprised and almost giddy that the very boy you’d been daydreaming about was there.  Draco ascended towards you, a sly expression plastered on his fair face.  If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was holding back a smile.

“Thought you’d get a bit of practice in before tomorrow, did you?  I suppose you’ll be needing it after all,” Draco nearly kicked back on his broom, clasping his hands behind his head and shooting you a mischievous smirk.

“Don’t be silly, Malfoy,” you chuckled and stretched your arms.  “I was merely imagining the foolish look on your face when I score the winning throw.  As you can see, I haven’t even got a quaffle.”

Draco rolled his eyes and tossed the quaffle he’d brought towards you. You grabbed it from the air swiftly and quirked your eyebrows.

“Y/H’s prize chaser can’t even remember to bring a quaffle to practice,” he tsked and sat up straight on his broom.  “How pathetic.”

Your eyebrows remained raised at his crass remark.  Your mouth flattened into a line.  Somehow, even through his arrogance, you were still insanely attracted to him.

“I can beat you any day, Malfoy,” you nearly spat, flipping your hair over your shoulder and tossing the quaffle between your hands.  He scoffed, but couldn’t keep the small grin from his pale lips.

“We’ll see about that,” with an effortless lurch forward, the quaffle was swiped from your grasp, and Draco floated away.  You bit your lip and smiled, shrugging in an implied agreement to his proposed two-on-two pickup game.

“Draco Malfoy as a chaser, now there’s something I’d love to see,” you chuckled and swooped into position.  He snorted in response and held out the quaffle between the two of you. Your eyes locked with intensity, and you pushed your own swooning feelings aside as he launched the quaffle into the air.  You raced towards it, shoving Draco with your shoulder to obtain the target and carrying it with care as you flew past him.  The Slytherin Prince wasted no time, staying close at your tail and making numerous grabs for the quaffle.  He grunted with effort, and you wheeled through the air into another signature flip, sending the quaffle through a hoop.

Draco watched the quaffle drop with a perplexed expression, his grey eyes swimming with doubt.  You smirked and pulled up beside him.

“One to nothing, Malfoy,” you ruffled his slicked back hair, effectively ruining its composure.  Draco nearly growled and slicked it back into place, drifting disgruntledly to the ground to retrieve the quaffle.  You could tell his pride was hurt a smidge, but you shrugged it off and continued back to start.

The rest of your game went quite similarly to the first round: you scored, and Draco grew more irritated.  Finally, after the fifth round, the two of you sweating and out of breath in the warm spring day, Draco scoffed and threw the quaffle to the ground with great force. Your eyebrows shot up and you followed him as he descended to the ground.  He walked a little ways away from you, kicking at the grass.  You tried to lighten the mood.

“Didn’t realize you were such a sore loser, Malfoy,” you chuckled and put your hands on your hips.  To your dismay and surprise, Draco whirled around, his eyes ablaze and his mouth twisted into a sneer.

“Shove off, Y/L/N!” he spat.  Your eyes widened and you took a step back in bewilderment.

“What in Bloody Hell is your problem?  It’s just a bloody game,” you tried to reason with him, although his tone was rubbing off on you.  Your ears burned with a growing annoyance.  Draco paced erratically in front of you and snarled at the ground.

“I lost to you…I can’t believe I lost to you!” he shook his head feverishly and you frowned, crossing your arms and tapping your foot.  He might be cute when he’s angry, but Merlin he’s irritating!  Truly, he resembled a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“And what on earth is so bad about that?” you chewed on your lip, your eyebrows knit together.  Draco covered his face.

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this!  I was supposed to impress you,” he pulled his hands from his face and your heart nearly fluttered when you saw his cheeks burning pink.  He sighed.

“The one time I like a girl…and I get beaten by her at Quiddich,” Draco mumbled and lightly kicked the quaffle aside, looking truly defeated. Nonetheless, your breath hitched in your throat and you stood erect and still.  He likes me!

You took a step forward and gently placed your hand on his arm.

“Draco…” his eyes darted to your hand, then to your eyes.  You were at a loss for words as you fell into the icy depths of his gaze.  He stammered, never looking away:

“I just…wanted to impress you,” his voice was not much more than a whisper, and he unsurely placed his hand against your cheek.  Your insides tightened and you held your breath.  

In the silence, Draco assumed more confidence and grabbed your waist with his other hand, leaning down to press his lips against yours.  Fire ignited under your skin and you blossomed at his touch, kissing him with a sudden need that had been built up in secret for so long. His lips worked against yours as he held you close to him.  You pulled back only to gaze once more into his placid eyes, now resembling warm liquid silver.  You smiled and stroked his cheek.

“Hate to say it…but I think I’ve won again, Draco,” you giggled, and Draco placed a kiss on the tip of your nose.  He smiled and shook his head.

“Oh no, darling…you’re the real prize,” you blushed and smiled as bright as the spring day before connecting your lips to his once more.  He lifted you from the ground, and you realized the thrill you’d felt all this time was simply from him.


Sirius Black x Reader

Request: Could you do a soulmate AU with Sirius? I know there’s a ton of different ideas for soulmates- i mind which one you use- and can it just have them finding out in a weird/cute way with lots of fluff?! Thank you I love your writing :)

Originally posted by totallybenbarnes

Sirius glares at the backs of his best friend and his girlfriend as he trudges along behind them.

“Wow, the leaves look so beautiful, don’t they, James?” Lily asks, staring up at the trees of the Forbidden Forest in awe. James nods his head in agreement and leans down to kiss the top of her head.

“They match your hair, babe.” Lily giggles and pecks him on the lips, making Sirius gag. He turns around and observes the Hogwarts grounds. He’s been told that they are beautiful, but how would he know? He can’t see any colors yet.

“I’ll just – go,” he says to nobody in particular, as Lily and James are busy snogging, and begins the long walk back to the castle. He stares out at the setting sun and wonders what the sky looks like. He’s read about these sunsets, you see – about the wonderful and majestic hues of purple and pink that are supposed to adorn the sky during a sunset or a sunrise and the way that the horizon looks like it’s on fire. His eyes pan over to the lake, wistfully wishing he could see the sparkling blue of the water and the way that the sun shines on –


He takes a few steps backwards as he collides with something in front of him. Glancing down in surprise, he sees someone look up in astonishment.

“Sorry about that,” the girl says in a lilting voice that makes him smile.

“No worries, love,” he says. “Sirius Black.”

The girl giggles and holds her hand out to him. “I know. Y/N Y/L/N.” Sirius takes her hand and shakes it, marveling at its softness and how perfectly it fits in his, until she clears her throat and gestures behind him to her waiting group of friends.

“Right! See you around?” Sirius asks, then mentally curses himself for sounding to eager. Y/N smiles and nods, then brushes past him. Sirius turns and stares after her, taking in her long Y/H/C hair and trying to commit her large, beautiful Y/E/C eyes to memory, when he realizes what he’s doing.

Sirius frowns. Looking out at the grounds again, he staggers back a few steps and his eyes widen as he is hit with the full force of what he is seeing. He stares out at the horizon, and on display is a masterpiece of a painting of pinks, purples, and golden yellows coloring the sky. Quickly panning his gaze over to the lake, he sees the glittering ocean blue, and the way the waves catch the light of the setting sun.

Astonished, he scans the grounds until he spies the tittering group of girls again, and seeks Y/N out in its midst.

“Look at me, please look at me,” he mutters, staring hard at the back of her head as he wills her to meet his eyes.

And she turns.

She turns and looks straight at him, her expression a mirror of his, as she too takes in true color for the first time.

Sirius walks towards the girl, beginning to beam, as he realizes what this means.


floating through the days,
in a majestic purple haze,
staring blankly ahead,
eyes unfocused,
daydreams of unfulfilled dreams,
lying in a bed of roses,
comfortably complacent,
living in my own bubble

but the thorns grew bigger,
pricking my skin,
blending in with the red hues.
the haze started to choke me.
innocent dreams
turning into vicious nightmares.
the bubble popped.
the curtains finally opened
to a scene of what lies outside.

an awakening,
from my peaceful slumbers,
to the unforgiving bombs detonating
in wars or in public places,
from my blissful ignorance,
to the slap of current events,
many dead, several injured
from the comfort of these four walls,
to the fear of the unfortunate
with no roofs to hide under,
from seeing the world
with the terror filtered out,
to the clear images of hate and inhumanity.

an awakening
from my eyes closed to the truth
to the growing desire to make a difference.
—  my eyes are now wide open

anonymous asked:

[ravenclaw] AroAce Luna Lovegood buys all the merch that has dragons and unicorns and other supposedly "mythical" creatures that they know are real.

(Headcanon for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes pride-related merchandise and who would be the first to buy it.)

Aroace Luna walks up to George leaning against a display of unicorn and dragon merch and asks him if it’s for aro and ace pride. George glances up at the tower of green, white, gray, black, and purple wandholds, quill ink, water bottles, trapper-keepers, and more.

“Oh, this old junk? Yeah, guess it does look a bit like pride.” And then quoiromantic gray-ace George winks at her.

Luna has a little ace-colored unicorn who prances on her desk during class. She has a little aro-colored dragon who curls up on her bedside table and guards her wand at night.

She has green and white unicorns on her shoes who stand majestically against a purple and black night sky. 

She has mittens shaped like dragons (one green/white/gray/black and one purple/white/gray/black). When she wears them to quidditch matches they roar triumphantly when her team scores.

She buys a trapper-keeper with pride dragons and unicorns, but quills and rolls of parchment weren’t made for the muggle contraption. Luna goes to the library and figures out an extension charm that will let her fit absolutely everything she needs into it.

Don’t tell her, but for Christmas Luna is getting a genuine Weasley sweater in aro and ace colors with a dragon on it. (Luckily Mrs. Weasley already had the yarn and pattern left over from Charlie’s gift last year.) Ginny can’t wait to give it to her!

- Ravenclaw Mod

Love Bait | Chapter One: ENLISTMENT

Fandom: Shingeki No Kyojin/Attack On Titan (Anime)
Type: Series
Pairing: Levi x OC
Word Count: 5784
Category: Fanfiction (Angst and Eventual Smut)

**Note: Some scenes/dialogues were originally from the manga/anime**
**A/N: Sorry for the delay and sorry for any wrong spelling or grammar in advance.Please enjoy reading :) If you haven’t read the PROLOGUE it’s  
>>here<< **

“I never said that.They want me dead.But i never said i wanted to die,“

Keep reading

A Throne of Glass and Fury: Part X

This CERTAINLY shouldn’t need any introductions! It has been SUCH A LONG TIME since I’ve updated this fic, and I hope you all enjoy what I’ve written. I couldn’t think of how I wanted to continue and was stuck in a rut for the longest time. But I am fairly happy with the results! Don’t forget to like and reblog, and don’t be shy with the comments and messages sharing your thoughts!


Lysandra entered her rooms, dress and jewelry and hair accessories dropping to the floor as she made her way to her bathing chambers. She was pleasantly surprised to find that, upon entering, water was already quickly filling up the considerably-sized tub, sweet-smelling bubbles rising along with it. She wasn’t entirely sure what kind of magic they used here in Prythian, but she was certain she could get used to this kind of luxury.

The beautiful courtesan had to admit that the Night Court was indeed as beautiful as it was foreign to her, and she was just dying to get out tomorrow and explore more of the city of Velaris.

Perhaps Aedion would like to join me when I go.

The thought made her pause, remembering what she had said to him only an hour or so earlier. How she had requested he visit her rooms tonight. What had she even meant when she’d said it? Did Aedion expect some time of…intimacy upon complying with her request? Would she mind if he did? And if they were to explore their relationship in that way—Lysandra was confident that once they did nothing would be the same.

Candles lit, bathing the room in a soft glow as the doors to the adorning balcony opened. A soft breeze filled the space, smelling of lavender and jasmine. Lysandra had a perfect view of the city, bustling with people. Of the mountains, majestic purple hues capped with an innocent white. And lastly, the stars, winking brilliantly from their own little heaven. It was a scene like one Lysandra had never seen before.

She had only just emerged herself into the tub when a knock sounded, soon followed by a strong but tentative voice. “Lys?”

“I’m in here,” she called out, heart hammering in her chest as Aedion came into view. He stopped at the threshold, eyes wide at the scene before him.

“If I’d known you were currently preoccupied I would have just waited outside,” his brows furrowed. “Perhaps I should come back later,” he said, but still did not turn to leave.

“What’s wrong, Aedion? I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of naked women in your time, this should be no different,” she challenged, but Lysandra wouldn’t try to make him stay, wouldn’t force him to do anything—as if she could. However, she had to admit that there was a part of her, a larger part than she had anticipated, that was hoping he’d stay. That he would take that first step into her bathing chambers and sit on the edge of the tub and talk to her if nothing else.

“Besides,” she said, forcing lightheartedness into her tone, “I believe you owe me the ending to a certain story.”

He offered her a gentle smile, running a hand through sun-kissed blond hair. And then he took a step into the room. And another, and then another until he was right beside her, taking a seat on the edge of the tub.

Aedion breathed in before exhaling words that immediately had Lysandra trapped.

“The father and his son went with the man, both of them distrustful of why he’d chosen to aid them in a time when everyone was struggling.

“The man had a carriage, a nondescript one, but it was pulled by four horses with coats the color of rich soil. The father could not remember the last time he had sat on something other than dirt or grass or hay. Even after decades of poverty, the father had still somehow preserved the ability to be ashamed; He wondered how terribly he and his son must smell to this man, though he gave no inclination that he had noticed the stench of despair on them.

The three of them sat in the carriage, the father and son on one side, staring at the man seated in front of them, assessing them with pale, gem colored eyes. He locked gazes with the boy, now a young man, and said, “Have you ever been taught to read?” The son shook his head. “Then I assume you haven’t been taught to write, or add, or any of that kind of stuff, have you?”

“No, sir.”

“The man paused for a moment, nodding, always possessing an air that he was meticulously calculating everything and everyone around him. “How old are you?”

“There were many things the boy was unsure of, but of this one thing, he was certain. He and his father never had much, but each year on his birthday, his father would sacrifice and somehow have saved enough money to buy him one sweet from the local Confectionery. And every year, the boy would ask his father if he wanted any, insisting that he have half of whatever it was his father had been able to afford that year. And every year, his father would politely deny, smile making crinkles appear on the sides of his wise, old eyes. “It’s for you, Castiel. I’m not hungry, I promise. Eat.” Gabriel’s father never told him lies, hunger did not leave much energy to put forth the effort of not telling the truth. But Gabriel soon learned that this was the one lie his father told over and over again.

“Nineteen,” Castiel had responded. “I will be twenty in two months time.”

“Again, the man just appraised him, and for the rest of the carriage ride, it was silent as a man’s coffin. Castiel and his father had no idea where they were traveling, they’d never seen the luscious, rolling green hills that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, had never witnessed the bright pinks and majestic purples and sky blues of the many flowers that decorated the lands.

“It was dark when they’d traveled through a small town, the people not blinking an eye at the carriage rolling through the streets. Soon enough, they made it to a considerably-sized house. It had a garden out back and stables and a farm not far.

“The carriage stopped, and immediately the old man asked what they were doing there. He was certain the man had brought them only to murder them without any witnesses, or to torture them for information.

“Follow me,” is all the man said. When Castiel as little, his father had taught him the basics of self-defense. He hadn’t ever really had to use it, but he was sure he could if this man proved to be a threat to him or his father. But they followed the man into the house—his house—rendered speechless by the simplistic beauty of it. Of how servants bustled about, smiling at the man, welcoming him home, stripping him of his coat and hat and informing him that dinner was nearly ready.

“The man looked at Castiel’s father, asked him if he knew how to read and write. The father said that he could, and when the man asked why he’d never taught his son, Castiel’s father explained that he’d never had the materials or time to do so.

“The jewel-toned eyes of the man met Castiel’s and his father’s and he said, “I have a place for you both to stay. Food, water, and shelter shall be provided. You,” he directly addressed Castiel, “will attend studies for four hours a day, every day except Sunday. And after your studies, you will do whatever work it is I assign you to do for the day. After you’ve finished your work, you will report to me in my study before bed.” Castiel knew the man hadn’t asked if he understood, but he nodded his head anyway.

“He then asked the father’s name—Gabriel—and also gave him a specific set of instructions. The man informed them that they were welcome to stay for as long as they liked, so long as they abide by his rules and contribute to the household.

“Castiel turned to his father, took him by the hands. He asked what his father thought, asked if he trusted the man if they should agree to the man’s rules. His father only squeezed his hands and asked what more they had to lose.

“So Castiel turned to the man, shook his head once, and agreed.”

Aedion stopped speaking, and it took Lysandra a moment before she realized that he was not going to continue. “Is that it? That can’t possibly be the end of the story,” she exclaimed.

He nodded, “You’re right. There’s plenty more to the story. That’s just the ending…for tonight.” Lysandra groaned, burying herself deeper into the water.

“Why won’t you just finish it tonight?”
Aedion smirked and replied, “Because if I tell you the rest of the story tonight, there’ll be no excuse for me to come visit your rooms tomorrow night.”

“You don’t need an excuse to visit my rooms, Aedion. You know that,” she said quietly. He didn’t tear his gaze away, though a part of Lys wished he would. Aedion had a way of looking at her so intently, it always made her feel as if he was stripping her naked, as if all her flaws—everything she was was just laid bare. As if he could see everything.

Slowly, never taking his eyes from hers, Aedion leaned down until his face was level with hers. There was a moment of silence. And then Lysandra felt his nose skimming her shoulder, warm breath kissing her skin, lips caressing the shell of her ear.

Delicious chills danced up her spine, eyes fluttering closed and heart sputtering a wild rhythm in her chest that Lysandra was certain Aedion could hear. His lips ghosted for a moment before lowering to kiss the soft skin of her shoulder. Again. And again.

A lingering kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, Lys,” he whispered. Then he was gone, the only trace of him being the thundering of her heart, and the fire racing through her veins.