or at least give it a whirl

Patronus

Sirius Black x Reader

Request: Prompt “when I make my patronus I think about our first kiss” *followed by y/n hiding her face under the covers cuz she’s smiling like an idiot** Character: Sirius

Originally posted by relationshipaims

“Right, love, your happiest memory – concentrating? Now say it.”

“Expecto patronum!” Y/N waves her wand wildly, looking for any semblance of at least the blue wispy smoke that should be emanating from the tip. Groaning, she whirls around to face Sirius.

“It’s not working! I’m not cut out for this, Sirius, I can’t –”

“Yes you can, Y/N!” Sirius cuts her off swiftly before Y/N gives up completely. “Maybe your memory just isn’t happy enough.”

“I’m thinking about my Hogwarts letter! It was one of my happiest memories. What do you think about, Sirius?”

Sirius turns slightly red. “Sorry, that’s private, babe,” he says.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, but shakes her head resignedly and turns around to try again.

“Expecto patronum!”


Sirius nuzzles into Y/N’s neck, peppering it with kisses as they cuddle in his bed.

“Feel better now, babe?” he asks.

Y/N nods, but frowns. “I just don’t understand why it doesn’t work, Sirius. That has to be my happiest memory.” She swivels to look at her boyfriend. “Please tell me your memory?”

“Can’t. It’s too embarrassing, love,” he responds, shaking his head vigorously.

“I’m your girlfriend!”

“Still.”

“Fine,” Y/N says, turning away from him pointedly. Sirius tries to turn her back around, but she refuses.

“Come on, babe, don’t be like that!” he says with a pout.

“When you talk to me, I’ll talk to you,” Y/N says stubbornly, refusing to look at him.

After a couple minutes, Sirius sighs. “When I make my patronus, I think about our first kiss,” he says softly. A huge smile begins to grow on Y/N’s face, accompanied by a pink blush.

“Love?” Sirius says, trying to look at her face. “We good now?”

Y/N tucks her head under the covers, trying to hide her grinning from Sirius.

She quickly extracts herself from the blankets to plant a quick kiss on his lips, then burrows back under the covers and cuddles into his side. “We’re good,” she says in a muffled voice.

petrichor

(n) the pleasant, earthy smell after rain.

Contains: angst

Words: 1.4K [drabble]

Summary: Yoongi always loved the rain, but storms couldn’t last forever.

A/N: @colourfulnoodles pulled me to this vortex of angst and I thought I’d give my contribution (at least I tried lmao)

ps: if you guys know the owner of the gif, please tell me! I’ve tried reverse image search, but all that came up were more fanfictions. 

Yoong opened your eyes to the small details of life. The way the dewdrops adorned the leaves of the trees, the way the smoke coming from your coffee served slow whirls in the early morning air, as each note changed as the ivory keys were struck with a slightly different pressure. The boy showed you a glimpse of his own, breathtaking world, but, in the end, what struck you the most was his love for rainy days.

What he grew to adore wasn’t the rain itself, but what it brought along its drops. He pointed out the way they ran down the window, how they covered the city in an almost mist-like aura. He would hold your hand tightly as you walked down the wet streets, admiring the way your face would shine against the intoxicating grey or the sky. Those days were also the perfect excuse for you two to stay at home, just listening to the noise of the water being slowly muffled by the sound of the piano as Yoongi worked with his instrument in perfect synchrony, performing such beautiful melodies that would leave even the best players drowning in jealousy. 

Unfortunately, you never felt the same way toward the heavy clouds above your head.

Keep reading

Fleeting Savior, Carl Grimes.

A/N: I’ve been trying to write more of these super long Carl imagines at least once a week now. I’ve realized that I really really enjoy writing him with different and complex kinds of romantic circumstances instead of the same old recycled imagines, ya get me? Nevertheless, this one just might be my favorite of my Carl Grimes stuff so give it a whirl if you please. 

Summary: The reader has been on their own ever since the start of the apocalypse with the exception of one few week long run in with Rick’s group on their journey to Terminus. Carl Grimes found her at her worst back then and once the two are reunited tensions rise. Due to the fear of an incident that happened alone on the road, the reader fears letting anybody back into their life. In the end, can they let him in?

Warning: Mature content that could be upsetting to some.

Word Count:  15,507


Keep reading

Geez, so this was going to just be a simple sketch with shading, but I ended up liking the linework so much, I couldn’t resist coloring it. And man, let me tell you, it’s a choice I do not regret. I’m almost afraid my next drawing won’t come out as good considering how much I loved this one.

Well, regardless, here’s a beautiful Ansem to enjoy.

Art meme/challenge used in case you want to give it a whirl yourself.
And Out of the Woods || Rapunzel and Ferdinand

No amount of weeping would sway Rapnzel’s mother as she was thrown roughly against the ground. Thorny twigs scratched her skin and dirt filled her mouth. “Please,” she begged for the thousandth time. “Don’t leave me here.

"You’ve made your choice,” Gothel sneered. “You chose to give yourself to him instead of stay with me, and this is your punishment!”

“Please!” she begged again. “Please, at least tell me where he is.”

“And give you hope? That will never happen!” Gothel whirled her cloak around herself and vanished.

Rapunzel crumpled in on herself and wept, the muck of the swamp coating her skin and newly shortened hair. She was alone, and she always would be. She had no idea how to leave this place, and no idea where her sweet prince was. She wanted to die.

Temporary Delays

The mission wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Ancient had looked over his assignment, researched the target, and selected a weapon. He’d traveled to the proper place at the proper time, set up shop, and eliminated them from three hundred paces. Now he’d packed up, set sail, and was headed back to Odina to collect his payment.

That was the plan, at least, until his skiff busted something inside and slowed to a crawl. He’d been able to maneuver the boat to a nearby, forested island. Now it was time to secure the perimeter, make sure there was no further danger to his skiff, and explore inland. If the island had any messenger doves, he could send off a message to the Order… if not, he would have to get creative.

The sound of a snapping twig caught his attention. Immediately, Ancient whirled to face the forest and leveled his rhotuka launcher at the figure. “Stay where you are,” he said. “Give me your name and why you’re here, and I might not shoot you where you stand.”