my-best-friend-is-beautiful

since it’s pride month i decided to just go on a lgbt+ binge read and i thought you guys would like to too, so below are some lgbt+ books you can check out if you want to.

children/middle grade:

young adult

new adult/adult

  • me to my best friend: you're really cool and beautiful and like, basically you're this super amazing person and i'm just blessed to be aware of your existence
  • me, still to my best friend: also you're a fucking nerd

LOL my bestfriend always makes the smoking videos hype

Happy earth day everyone 🌏🌳🌿✨

Quit Beating Me Up!

Request: Hi! Can I request a Peter Parker imagine with the prompts “Stay Awake” and “Quit beating me up?” (I know those two imply that it will end sad, but can you make it not sad but instead just fluffy?) Thank you so much!!!!!!!! I love your writing!

Summary: Peter’s jet lag from flying home from Germany is keeping him up, and ultimately you too. 

Originally posted by smilexcaptainx

Nothing beats the comfort of your own bed, especially after a long, exhausting day on your feet which you just had. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer, even when you heard your window open and shut. 

Peter, having just returned home from Germany, and giddy with excitement and anticipation to tell you about his over seas mission, just couldn’t wait till morning to see you. So here he was standing over your sleeping figure, facing away from him, nearly jumping up and down, trying to figure out a way to wake you up that wouldn’t get him punched in the face.

You could hear what was happening in your bedroom, but only thought of it as a dream in your drowsy daze. You felt a cold hand clutch your shoulder gently, “Y/n, Y/n wake up,” you groaned in response, “Please. C’mon I have so much to tell youuu,” 

Hearing Peter’s voice pulled you out of your slumber. Agitated now that you know Peter’s in your room, you swatted the hand away, and pulled the covers over your head, curling into a ball.

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Friends & Family appreciation!

i want to compliment ALL my mutuals & my friends.
because my anxiety kills me (thanks anon)
mostly because i don’t contact people often,i just want them
to know how much they mean to me.
that i see them as ACTUAL friends. 
yes this is kinda like a follow forever. just with compliments!
this is a  hella  long list! so i’m so sorry.
i’m bad with telling your personality,so i’m so sorry.
i didn’t wanna leave anybody out.
family = bolded (basically means people i see as my real life friends)
friends = italics (means that we might not talk alot,but you still mean alot to me)

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༺ in the open ✧ bella hadid

❝ and oh — did she quiver with anticipation at the excitement that may ensue. ❞

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

The wind fell short as we shuffled into the nearly vacant bus, digits curled around the dark handle of my suitcase as I haphazardly trailed behind Bella. Despite the only other occupants being a gentle elder woman nose deep in a classic piece of text and the impatient driver glaring at us ( as if somehow that would get us to move any faster ), she still found her way to the very back, her own luggage settled in the chair up front. I quickly copied her actions, finding my way right by her side; no space found as the heat of her exposed thigh pressed up against mine. 

And with that, the hour and a half long trip began, droopy eyelids settling and headphones gently playing in one ear while Bella made minuscule observations of the passing landscape into the other. It was serene, really. Watching the way the sun shone against her porcelain skin and captured the very essence of her smile. She was my best friend, and she was beautiful. 

It was about a third into the trip that I had felt it. The back of a smooth palm gently brushing against my kneecap, a spurt of shivers instantly following in reply. My head snapped to attention, eyebrows furrowing curiously in both question and caution; what exactly was she attempting to go for? 

My gaze quickly averted to the grand rearview mirror in the very front of the bus; as if terrified the bus driver had noticed that. But what could he have noticed? A girl accidentally bumping into another in the most innocent sense? It was innocent, wasn’t it? 

And that’s all I presumed it to be— innocent. So I went back into my own world, eyelids drooping in an eager attempt to find my way into sleep. 

However, no more than five minutes could’ve passed before I felt that same feeling. Her skin against mine; this time, more bold. She gently pushed my legs open, her digits curiously traveling against the flesh of my inner thigh; a trail of goosebumps following in her wake. My eyes shot open, teeth sinking into my bottom lip. 

“Bels, what are ya doing, darling?” I mutter, daring to meet her gaze. 

“I’m… experimenting, you could call it.” She replies, so matter of fact and final yet holding that same coquettish lilt it always did. Her eyes, bright and seductive, were darker than usual, a deep shade I’d yet to discover before this moment. It could only be classified as lust. 

And in that moment, our lips encountered one another, the smell of strawberry chapstick infiltrating my senses. My eyes widened in shock, and for a moment I can’t necessarily process just what’s happened. But within seconds, I melt into it, our lips molding for a second before pulling away. The bus driver doesn’t even notice. 

Of course, I feel the need to mention it anyway. 

“Bella, we’re on a bus.” I chastise, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as my fingers grazed over my lips. I can’t shake off the overwhelming sensation of wanting more, vying for that renewed feeling of how soft she felt against me. All the meanwhile, her fingers stay teasingly at my inner thigh, phantoms of patterns gently painted. 

“That’s why it’s exciting.” She answers lowly, and I can feel a shiver run down my spine. I want to throw caution to the wind, I do, but my inhibitions are fighting me. Yet, I feel it, that heat pooling between my legs. She so easily had an effect on me with the simplest of touches. But it was the way she looked, and the tone of her voice, and g o d, her fingers on my thigh. 

“We shouldn’t…” I protest, weak; halfhearted. She simply chuckles, her head dipping down to press against the exposed skin of my shoulder. I can feel her teeth sinking into it, harsh in the most pleasurable sense, her fingers growing closer to where I want them with every second that agonizingly passed. 

My breath grew so shallow in such a short amount of time, and I was unsure if I was shaking out of the sheer anticipation of her touching me, or by the fact that at any second, someone could notice; whether the driver or the old lady, it didn’t matter. But I knew one thing: I was shaking because of how I didn’t care. 

Because at this exact moment, I knew I could keep trying to get her to stop. To say it’s wrong, to say we’ll get caught. But I didn’t want her to. I wanted to unravel for the aspiring supermodel next to me, melt into the way her chocolate tresses framed the porcelain skin of her picturesque face as she sucked on my skin, cerulean gaze darkened with lust as they stared at me. 

My breath hitched in my throat when she finally grazed her fingers against the practically sheer lace of my panties, gripping onto the back of the seat in front of me haphazardly.

“Oh.” I whispered shakily— not necessarily expecting how overwhelming that had been. The cold of her hand against the heat of my aching cunt was enough to send another gush right into my panties.

“Are you already so wet for me, baby?” She teases, pulling away from my shoulder. I can see the dark marks forming already. She soothes it with one last kiss, her fingers rubbing at my cunt through the fabric of my panties; my hips bucking into her hand desperately. I don’t know why I needed this so much. Why the thought of my best friend getting me off inside a bus made me so damn turned on. 

“So wet.” I reply shakily, barely able to spit it out through the shallowness of my breaths. 

“Tell me how bad you want my fingers inside you. Tell me how tight you are.”

“I want it so bad. I want to drench your fingers in my cum. You can make me feel so good. Please, p l e a s e. Please put…” I have to pause momentarily as her fingers apply a slight pressure against my throbbing clit. Close my eyes and enjoy it. But as soon as I stop talking, her fingers stop moving. So I continue. 

“… put your fingers deep in my pussy, Bels. I’ll wrap around them like a good girl, ride your fingers and let you stretch me out while you watch. Whisper your name. Let my cum stain these bus seats.” 

“You’re so eager, aren’t you?” And she relents. Finally. My panties pushed to the side, a single finger slipping in. It’s not enough. Not nearly. And it’s so slow. Painfully slow. I want more. So much more. 

“Don’t tease.” 

“Don’t be greedy.” She coos, her finger curling up and hitting my sweet spot as if I remind me she has complete control of the situation. That I never even had it for a second. 

My hips rock against her hand desperately, aching for it. For her to pound into me, for the sound of her fingers pumping into my slick little cunt to fill my ears but not the bus, for that release. 

“Please.” My fingers grip onto the bus seat, free hand digging nails into her shoulder; nearly breaking skin. It’s almost too much teasing. All the anticipation built up so much, I could explode right here, right now, without her doing any more than this. 

“Three, please. My pussy n e e d s it.” I practically beg, my voice coming out in a low whine. Bella’s teeth sink into her bottom lip, slipping in two other fingers. It stretches me, pain and pleasure in a beautiful mix as I let out a low moan without meaning to. Bella’s hand slams over my mouth to silence me, and I see a glint in her eyes. 

It’s mischievous. 

Without giving me time to adjust, she begins to pound into me, and I can see my juices sliding everywhere. Down my thighs, onto her hand, the bus seat. I’m fighting to throw my head back in pleasure. To know that Bella of all people was showing my poor little cunt no mercy, curling up into my sweetest spot and ramming into it without a second thought was enough to get me off, and to have the actual feeling of that occurring added onto it left me on the verge of tears the the pleasure, every inch of my body shaking with excitement. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” I whimper out, my hips jerking against her hand sloppily. 

“It feels so good.” 

“Oh, right there!”

“Oh, just like that Bella!” 

I can’t seem to shut up. Every part of my brain is telling me to scream out as I approach my climax, as Bella pounds into my little pussy. I’m so close I can taste it. I’m so close, my chest heaving up and down rapidly in pleasure as I bounce against Bella’s fingers, my gaze never leaving hers. 

Her thumb kneads my clit encouragingly, clockwise circles creating stars in my vision as it throbs with each round she makes. 

“Cum for me, baby.” She purrs, so sweet and seductive simultaneously; and I do. 

I let it all go, a silent scream escaping. My mouth wide open, my back arched off the seat, my nails so deep in Bella’s shoulder it draws blood. All while she continues to fuck me through it, never seeming to let loose. 

My toes curl and my eyes squeeze shot, entire body shaking with the overwhelming pleasure. It feels like a lifetime. 

Only once I come down from it all does she slip out of me, though my legs stay spread as she brings up her fingers to her lips, sucking it in and licking up every last inch of my cum. 

“So sweet.” She moaned, popping her fingers out. 

“I wonder what it would taste like directly from the source.” 

༺ Hi, guys! It’s been way too long since I’ve written, but I got so much inspiration to write this, and I thought of no one better to restart my blog with than my baby Bella. I hope you all continue to support me as I start fresh, and that you enjoyed this smut. Much love, Julietta.

For Sixpenceee-Glitch in the Matrix (personal)

My Best Friend Never Existed

Her name was Alex. And I swear to god she was real. She was my best friend in the 1st grade. Most people shake me off when I tell them that I knew her when I was just six or seven, because it’s hard to remember things at that age. True, I may not remember a lot of things from my first grade adventures, but I sure remember her. She was my best friend. She was beautiful (as beautiful as a 1st grader can be, at least). I remember her short blonde hair, her hazel-green eyes, and the red hoodie that she wore almost daily. She was fun, mischievous, and sad. There were problems at home, especially with her dad. She lived with her mom, as her parents were divorced. Now that I’m older, I think that her dad abused them. She was usually upset about her dad waiting outside on the lawn in the mornings to apologize and her mom arguing with him until he left. We would play adventure games on the swings and watch over the playground from the top of the highest slides. I spent every second with her. We sat together at lunch and in class and we read next to each other during reading time. I never went to her house in fear that her father would show up, but I distinctly remember her spending the night at my house. We would make blanket forts and spy on my older sister to hear the latest 5th grader gossip. We spent most weekends together. She came to my seventh birthday too. I remember making her invitation special, just for her, with stickers and special notes on the inside. I know she was there. She destroyed the pinata with a few swings and everyone else was upset with her because she ruined their turn. We grabbed all of the candy our shirts could carry and ran away from the birthday crowd into the “Girl’s Club,” a wooden shed that my dad had put carpet into so that we could have a special place. I remember when she fell off the monkey bars and broke her arm. My dad was on the playground visiting and helped her to the nurse’s office. Her cast was pink. I signed it. Then, one day, when we were waiting to be picked up after school, she seemed upset when her car pulled up. She said that it was her dad picking her up. We said our goodbyes and gave best friend hugs and then she got into the car.


That was the last day I ever saw her. I never questioned whether she was real or not until a few years ago. My aunt is a teacher at my old elementary school and sometimes she has get togethers with other teachers, both retired and currently employed. One day I ran into my 1st grade teacher at one of these get togethers and started to talk about how crazy I was in the 1st grade. When I mentioned Alex, my teacher’s face turned blank. She had no idea who I was talking about. I reminded her that we spent every second together—practically inseparable. But she still hadn’t a clue. She told me that I spent most of my time talking to students around the class and spent most of my recesses inside to read—I never really hung out with just one person, apparently. I mentioned the monkey bars incident. What’s scary is, and everyone agrees with this, I was the one who fell off the monkey bars and I have no recollection of this. I decided to ignore her cluelessness, as she was growing old and had probably lost some memory. Still, I was a little put off by her inability to remember Alex, so I decided to ask some friends that I went to elementary school with. No one knew who she was or remembered her ever being my friend or even going to our school. I tried to recall as many things about her physical appearance that I could, but every person I spoke with denied her presence at our school, including other teachers. This is where things turned strange. I decided to check in the yearbook, so that I could show everyone her picture and jog their memories. I remember picture day; we traded lip gloss tubes. As much as I looked, she was not in the yearbook. I looked through every page, at every photo, and every caption in hopes of finding her picture, her name, anything. She wasn’t there anywhere. I resulted in asking my parents if they remembered my friend Alex in the 1st grade. They told me that I didn’t have any friends named Alex. I had a few imaginary friends, but I’m positive that she was real. Imaginary friends don’t break pinatas. They don’t break arms and have casts that your classmates signed. They don’t trade lip gloss with you. She was real. She was real… I looked through our VCR tapes for a video of my 1st grade birthday party, but the film was ruined. The hard drive that carried the photos from that party was dropped and destroyed a few months before my search for my old friend. It’s like she never existed.

My best friend never existed.

Too Small - reidxreader

Anon requested: Spencer and the reader have to share a room during a case and the reader had a tough day bc the cops at the station where making fun of her small chest and during the night she starts to cry about it and Spencer asks her what’s wrong and she grabs his hand and puts it on her boob and asks “do I have small boobs?” And you can finish the rest

A/N okay, I changed the request a lil bc i feel like her putting his hand on her chest is kinda bold lol i hope u don’t mind!! btw reader and reid have a a similar relationship as derek and penelope, ok enjoy

Originally posted by toyboxboy

The team was in a town in the middle of nowhere on a case, which made it especially difficult to solve. Hotch even had to ask Garcia to come along because the network around the area was awfully slow and unreliable so she had to take care of that herself.

This town in particular was full of sexist and racist idiots. Even the policemen were a disgrace, which you’d discovered for yourself when a few of them decided to make comments about you.

“You just need to cooperate,” you’d said to an officer with a beard and graying hair, “I understand that you don’t like that the FBI is here, but you can’t all be protecting each other right now. There’s been 4 murders and there will be more if you don’t let us do our job.”

You’d said this because you didn’t have to be a profiler to see that none of the officers wanted you here. They’d been uncooperative, condescending, and straight up rude ever since the team arrived.

When he didn’t respond, you sighed and walked away. “What does she know,” the man said to a fellow officer, “she’s got the body of a ten year old. I’m surprised she made it through college.”

“I know, I mean, where are her boobs? How are we supposed to take a woman seriously who’s barely even a woman?” His friend replied. You heard all of this, but pretended you didn’t. Your blood boiled.

You’d had a battle with your body image ever since you were a teenager and didn’t grow large breasts like everyone else. You hadn’t let it bother you in quite some time now though, but the feeling of not fitting in was beginning to settle just like it did when you were 15.

Tears began to come to your eyes, but you were working right now and these victims were more important than what these “men” thought of you. You composed yourself and made your way back to your team. 

“You okay?” Reid muttered to you when you stood next to him. You shot him a fake smile, “Yeah, I’m good.”

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I Can't Stand It (Miniminter)

I Can’t Stand It 
 Miniminter x reader 
Angst 
Requested! Yes! This was requested by one of my best friends @princessac. Thanks for requesting beauty, I’m sorry it took so long! 

 The gaze she held could probably scare anyone that it attached to. Anyone could feel the burning orbs literally creating holes of fire in their bodies, but it seemed as though the tall blonde her gaze was trained on, didn’t even notice.

 Y/N stood off to the side, a glass of alcohol in her hand. There was a feeling bubbling up inside her, but Y/N didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t exactly anger, but it definitely wasn’t sadness. The feeling was almost a ,not so happy, medium. 

 "You’re not slick you know that?“ A voice sounded from besides Y/N, startling her so much that she almost spilled her drink. There stood beside her was a small Indian man who was the same height as her. Y/N grumbled to herself, gulping down the drink in her hand.

 "Shut up” Y/N retorted, clearly irritated for being called out on her, realistically, creepy antics. Vik giggled a bit, and joined her in her drinking, trying to keep his mouth shut. But he could see the look in her eyes. She was desperately in-love with Simon, that it pissed Vik off. Because Simon loved her equally as much, but the two were completely and utterly oblivious. 

 However, the situation the two were in was more complicated than anyone had originally thought. Simon and Y/N had known each other for years, growing up together with just a house between them. They were inseparable, two peas in a pod. Where ever one went, the other was close behind if not already beside. 

 But that changed. 

Surprise surprise right? 

They gained feelings for each other and well shit happened. They dated on and off for about a year, until Y/N called it off when she caught Simon cheating on her. 

 That was five years ago. 

 And she missed him more than anything. But none of the guys knew that, they just assumed that Y/N met Simon when she met everyone else. Of course both of them were caught off guard, they hadn’t seen each other for years, but they played it off well. 

 "Y/N, he’s staring" Vik murmured, swirling the drink in his hands. Y/N snapped out of her daze, her gaze focusing in on the glaring blonde from the dance floor. But the smirk that grew on his face was sickening to Y/N, the future sight she was about to face would make her feel worse than she already did. 

 Simon smirked, evilly almost, and grabbed the girl he was dancing with by the hips and pressing his lips to hers. Y/N felt her whole world crash around her, a loud clanging was muffled by the ringing in her ears, her hand now empty.

 "Y/N" Vik screeched, bending down to pick up the broken glass. Y/N followed suit, tears welling up in her eyes. 

 "I’m so sorry" The woman whimpered, feeling overwhelmed but numb at the same time. A new hand was shoved into her view. 

 "It’s fine little lady, don’t worry about it" the voice was soft, comforting, but nothing could drag Y/N out of the pit she was in. She shakily responded with a quiet ok, lifting herself up off of the ground. When she glanced back at the dance floor, the blonde was gone, but the girl he was with wasn’t. She was still dancing on the floor, but now with her friends.

 Y/N glanced around for awhile, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. But she flinched around when a large hand landed on her shoulder.

 "Hey hey. It’s just me" Simon chuckled from behind her, his tone mocking. Y/N huffed, not turning to meet his knowing gaze and shrugging his hand off of her shoulder. Simons smirk fell when the woman scooted away from him, his arm reaching out to grab her wrist. 

 "Can we talk?“ The seriousness in his question, and his expression caught Y/N completely off guard. But she stood her ground. She knew what talking meant. 

 "No” Her original, fiery gaze took place on her face, making Simon cross his arms over his chest. That gaze never worked on him. 

 "Y/N you know that little look of yours never worked on me" Simon patronized her, making her more angry by the minute. 

 "Fuck off Minter" Y/N spat, storming away from him. She bursts through the doors of the club, ignoring the calls from the others. The cold air practically slapped her in the face, but a hand pulled her back and up against the wall.

 "What the hell is your problem?!“ Y/N screeched at the blonde that was currently pinning her against the brick. The cold blue eyes that were boring into hers would make anyone shudder, but that was the thing with these two. They were immune to one another, but equally as addicted.

 "I could ask you the same thing. Every chance you get, you burn that stupid little gaze of yours into my fucking body.” The blonde huffed, calmer than she was by two whole levels. Y/N glanced away from him, uncomfortable with how close Simon was. But Simon placed a palm to her cheek, turning her eyes towards his.

 "Don’t you look away from me and try to act innocent" Simon hissed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His fingers twitched against the skin of her cheek, his thumb caressing it lightly. Y/N melted into him, not being able to fully resist the drug she had been addicted to. But Y/N was still angry and upset.

 "Stop it" She breathed, smacking his hand away, a tear falling from her eye. Simon stepped back a step, even if it physically pained him.

 "I can’t do it anymore Simon. I can’t sit around and see you with someone else every time we go out.“ Y/N seethed, screaming through her tears. She ranted and raved, punching against his chest. Yeah, it hurt him, but Simon took it. She needed to let everything go. 

 Soon, the rage was gone, and the tears were the only thing flowing freely. Y/Ns back hit the wall, sliding down it. She tucked her head into her knees, whimpering and sobbing. Simons heart nearly broke at the sight, but she needed to get out of here now. 

So, he did the only thing he could, call an uber and take her home. He did everything a good boyfriend would do, wash her nearly emotionless body, put her in comfortable clothes, feed and hydrate her, and went to put her to bed. 

He respected her in every way, never stared for too long while she wasn’t dressed, and kept his hands to himself. But when she asked him to stay after tucking her in, he was more than eager to. 

 "I’m sorry for being jealous” Y/N murmured into the silence, her cheek moving against his chest, his thumb caressing her bicep. 

 "Go to sleep love, We’ll talk about it in the morning"

lifeisshiny  asked:

Hello lovelies! My birthday is coming up on February 7, can I request a drabble? :) xoxo

Originally posted by musicandrave

Wishing you a very happy birthday! To celebrate, here’s a little taste of Everlark sweetness, just for you!


Snowbabies

Rated G


Winter is hard.

Katniss and I have struggled with the winter since the end of the war. The cold, the dark, the lifelessness. The reminders of people we lost that cruel winter years ago.

Having children changed things, particularly for Katniss. She stopped spending dark days in bed, staring at ghosts, and started playing - taking the kids skating, having snowball fights. I’m not saying winter isn’t still hard. But in Willow, and then again two years ago in Rye, she seems to have found the strength to persevere, in spite of the winter blues. It’s not easy, but she and I both have been able to really live these past few winters, instead of just surviving. Our kids have definitely helped us see winter differently.

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The Thing About Roommates

Fandom: Star Wars (Modern AU)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

As requested by anonymous: Poe and reader are roommates and if Poe ever has a date at home sometimes reader accidentally wanders through the room forgetting Poe has a date and is always interrupting. Poe’s dates never mind and reader really doesn’t mean to interrupt they just forget but ohhhh one day Poe has had enough so after his date went home he confronts reader like really closely confronts them

A/N: mentions and implications of sex.


Finding different girls in your kitchen almost every morning was no surprise to you. Your best friend, Poe “I can get any girl I want” Dameron, was such a playboy. There were often times where whenever you walked into the kitchen and see a new girl there, you’d just strike up a conversation with them. Talk about movies, the news, celebrities, whatever. It didn’t have to be awkward so you didn’t make it awkward.

Did you often wish that these girls were you? Yes and no. You didn’t want to be a conquest to Poe. You wanted him to care for and touch you with so much love. Like with the love you had for him…

ANYWAY

The thing about Poe was that he often told you when he’d have a date over. He always reminded you…you just would often forget. That would usually get you into some sticky situations…


One time Poe was starting to go at it with his date. They were aggressively making out on the couch. You didn’t know this was happening when you walked into the living room. You stopped mid-step when you saw the girl rip her top off. You sure as hell didn’t want to see any more. So you cautiously began walking backwards and you were successful…until you bumped into a table thus causing a vase to fall over. 

The girl looked up and both of you met each other’s gaze with wide eyes, “Oh my God!” The girl grabbed for her shirt and covered herself. She leaped off of Poe’s lap, “I thought you said no one was home!”

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

You cautiously and shyly waved, “Uh, hi?”

“I-uh, think I’m gonna go, Poe. I’ll see you around.”

“No! Wait, Ashley! We could just-”

“It’s okay. Just call me.” ‘Ashley’ as you just learned her name, quickly put on her top and left your place. 

Poe groaned with frustration and stood glaring at you, “I told you I had a date!”

“I’m sorry! I forgot!”

“Whatever, Y/N.” Poe stalked to his room muttering about having to deal with situation by himself.

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So my best friends and I watched Beauty and the Beast together...

Two of us are big Acotar fans and the other still ships Feylin and is reading Acomaf. After we walked out of the theater, the other acotar friend and I turned to each other, and at the exact same time said, Le Fou was Lucien. Me and her cracked up and the other one was just staring at us saying Tamlin was totally the beast when we all know he is Gaston.

You are my best friend;
You make me want to write poetry about everything beautiful,
But also everything dark and devoid of what most call ‘beautiful’
You don’t only make me want to write about sunshine and flowers;
You touch even the darkest part of my soul
You are my confidante, my inspiration, my motivation.
I can rant to you about shitty coffee
And two seconds later be ranting about how heavy my heart feels-
How hopeless a person I can be,
How desperately dark things seem.
I can kiss you on the forehead, tell you you’re beautiful,
Then instantly joke about breaking up till one of us caves.
I can be completely raw with you;
Touch my jagged skin darling
And if you cut yourself on my sharp edges
I’ll kiss you,
But I won’t tell you this will be easy
I’ll tell you it will be worth it.
You are my best friend
When you look at me,
I can feel you starting at my soul
Not who I am on the outside
I can send you my ugliest pictures
And we can laugh for hours about how disgusting I can make myself in .01 seconds.
I love that;
I’m never scared to be myself with you.
I won’t hide pieces of me,
I’ll hand them to you,
I’ll even wrap the horrible parts of me up in majestic wrapping paper as a joke;
I’ll give you the good parts and the bad-
I just want to experience everything with you.
When you miss somebody the way I miss you,
It’s not that bullshit type of romance;
It’s missing my best friend
Waking up every day feeling like you’re away from the one person who gets you,
You get me
Through the dinosaur noises, the earth worm faces, the no makeup, my lazy days, the tears, and everything else that I’d be scared to show you;
If you were only my girl
But you’re so much more than that
I miss you every day because you’re my best friend
Not because you’re beautiful (which you are)
Not because I crave you physically (which I do)
Not because I want to take you on dates and be cute (which I love)
But I miss you endlessly because you’re my favorite person to laugh with,
You’re my favorite person to have meaningless small talk with
You tell me bad jokes, and I tell you worse ones
You say you hate me, well I hate you more.
That’s what I call a best friend,
And somehow I’m also lucky enough to call you my girlfriend.
—  Every day life with you is so damn easy