stone is better than you

7. Smallest

“Victim or slut?”

“Excuse me?” Antonia asks incredulously.

The vaguely familiar, young man lounging confidently in the chair on the opposite end of the library table rolls his eyes in an exaggerated show of annoyance.

“You’re a girl,” he says matter-of-factly. “It’s gonna hold you back.”

Excuse me?” Antonia repeats, harsher this time. She is seriously tempted to knock her book over the smug bastard’s head. Multiple times.

“Easy,” the guy leans back, hands held out in front of him, palms up in a mockery of surrender. If it wasn’t for the vicious smirk that is. “Don’t kill the messenger. Besides it’s not like I’m telling you anything you don’t already know. So what’s the plan?”

Antonia narrows her eyes.

There’s something in the way he talks, the way he watches her, that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It’s this unsettling sensation that finally causes her to recall the guy’s name, Tiberius Stone. He’s in two of her classes, and from what Antonia remembers, has not once agreed with her on any of the topics they discussed.

“What on earth are you talking about?” she asks despite herself.

Stone tilts his head, and even though an ever-present smile is resting on his lips, his eyes are cold.

“You will be cast into a role sooner rather than later, either by your own hand or by others.”

“And you believe those are my only options? Besides what business of yours is it what I do or don’t do with my life?” Antonia makes no effort to keep the derision out of her voice.

At that Stone’s smile widens. “You’re interesting.”

Somehow, coming from him, it does not sound like a compliment.

“But even you are limited by people’s perceptions. You may be able to sell any role you want, but not everyone is gonna buy it. And then what use is a role when you’re too busy defending your choice to play? So,” Stone drawls, “what’s it gonna be, little Miss Stark?” His words are dripping with a lecherous intent that has Antonia fighting to suppress the urge to lean away from him. “The victim or the slut?”

Later Antonia won’t be able to explain it, not even to herself, but in that moment meeting Tiberius Stone’s cool, assessing gaze is the hardest thing she has ever had to do. It leaves her feeling trapped and out of her depth and small, makes her want to curl up in a corner of the room, stay out of sight and pretend nothing can touch her.

But Antonia Stark has been the smallest child in the room all her life, has been the little girl that needs not burden herself with the ugly truths and is left to face them alone and defenceless all the same, and she does the only thing she knows to do, what she has been doing all her life: she straightens in her seat and she keeps her lips closed and she smiles.

“A warrior.”

Antonia’s and Tiberius’ first meeting. Did it go the way you expected it to?

anonymous asked:

Don't get me wrong. I like scanitly clad blonde cavewomen as much as the next guy. But are there any pulps that take a more realistic approach to the concept? I mean, the cavewomen on the covers are far too well groomed for people who are living in the wilderness and fighting dinosaurs and mammoths.

A lot more stone age stories are more accurate and researched than you’d think, but that’s very seldom reflected in the cover art. This is something people need to understand about cover art: it’s not designed to accompany or reflect the story, it’s designed to advertise the story. So no matter what’s on the inside of the book, the cover will have stone age societies with highly advanced push-up bra technology and Cover Girl cavewomen (although you won’t hear any complaints at my end about that…that’s the opposite of a problem!)

Cover art is advertising, and uses the principles of psychology and marketing. If you want to understand this better, I recommend reading “Frank Kelly Freas: As He Sees It.” Among other things, this is why covers tend to use the hero-monster-girl cover over and over and over, because it creates emotional involvement. The threatened, vulnerable beautiful girl creates an instinctive need to protect that draws you in, the monster creates a threat, and the hero is someone the reader projects themselves into. Interestingly, research shows the hero-monster-girl cover creates the same reaction in women as it does in men.

As Freas himself said, “advertisers love it when you think you can’t be manipulated, because that means you’re not analyzing all the ways you can be.”

If you want brutal realism and scientific accuracy in your stone age story, you can’t do much better than one written by a true-blue paleoanthropologist, Björn Kurtén, “The Dance of the Tiger” from 1980. It’s yet another novel about Cro-Magnon and Neanderthal contact, the same as the Hok the Mighty stories, Clan of the Cave Bear, and Golding’s “The Inheritors,” except that Kurtén believed the way it all played out was interbreeding. Neanderthals in particular loved the African-originating Homo Sapiens because of how smooth their brows were, which reminds them of children, and therefore looks “cute.”

anonymous asked:

Jeremy don't worry I think you are better than Stone because of your big heart and if your father don't appreciate it is his problem, still you can have every girl and everything you want just be yourself I believe in you!:) *hug you Jeremy*(:


We’ve entered the second chapter of Antonia Stark’s life. She is fifteen, studying at MIT and meeting new people.

6. Wednesday

MIT turns out to be everything Antonia hoped it would be and more. Her classes are engaging, to the point where she spends many a late evening in the library, reading up on details the professors mention, topics that capture her interest, extracurricular lectures that help her deepen her understanding of the subject matter.

It helps that most of her professors are more than willing to recommend her additional articles and point her towards books she may find helpful. Her fellow students too finally appear to speak the same language she does.

Antonia still finds herself jumping circles around them, grasping abstract concepts while others still attempt to discern what the question is, but now when she talks people understand her, even if they don’t always follow her thought process immediately. More than that, they argue and discuss and once they get over the initial shock of seeing her among them, most accept her fairly easily. Academically at least, she belongs.

Socially is a different matter, but her weekly study groups are so close to actual friendships, Antonia almost doesn’t notice the parties she isn’t invited to, the movie nights and dinners she isn’t asked to join.

She doesn’t take it personal.

She doesn’t.

Not even when it leaves her to spend yet another Wednesday afternoon in the library, on her acclaimed table.

Because she is studying to become an engineer, is learning so much, hasn’t had anyone rip her essay apart yet, and it’s brilliant. MIT is brilliant.

Granted there are some things she could do without but–

“And how is my favourite little Miss Stark doing this fine evening?” a smooth, dangerously smug voice pipes up from across the table.

Antonia blinks, definitely not pleasantly surprised by her unannounced company.

“Is that my doughnut you’re eating?”

She doesn’t even know why she bothers asking. All it gets her is a self-satisfied smirk that really shouldn’t look as good as it does. And she doesn’t ask herself why it doesn’t annoy her as much as it should.

–Things like Tiberius Stone. She could definitely do without those.

Finally another part of this verse. I’m sorry it took so long! I’m having a hard time deciding how much of her life at MIT I want to include. That and Ty is a pain in my ass, I swear.

anonymous asked:

I think it's bc i work in a very male dominated field and I constantly have guys size me up/make rude comments etc. I'm the youngest person the company ever hired as well which tends to add a certain Extra Creepy to a lot of those interactions. But yes, your writing of Ty was really on point and I'm excited to see what you do with this verse!

Yeah okay that sounds definitely creepy. God I’m just really really sorry you have to deal with that on a daily basis. I’d offer you my pepper spray but I don’t exactly have a pepper spray so you know. Just try to gauge someone’s eyes out with a spoon, I’ve noticed that tends to freak people out.

Thank you, I’m flattered you think so! I’ve already planned a couple more instalments involving Ty that I can’t wait to write. Oh and I’m thinking of including Rhodey soon as well, I have just the thing in mind to bring those three together and yes okay I love talking about my stories so much I won’t even apologise for the spoiler thingy sorry

a really underappreciated line is when wynonna starts accusing nicole of being a murderer in the episode with the stone witch and nicole says “you of all people should know better than to make me question MY sanity” like??? what a fucking line. it’s so devastatingly cold while still holding a level of dignity. she held nothing back and then walked away. truly she is a queen.

happy fanfic writers’ appreciation day

So, apparently it was fanfic author’s appreciation day and I’m only now getting aware of it, but I want to take this chance to extend my deepest gratitude to all the fanfic writers out there! You’re what makes fandom amazing.

I feel truly blessed to have met so many amazing writers over the years (some of whom are even mutuals!!) who continue to amaze and inspire me with their stories and ideas!

Special shout out to my conductor of light, @neurotoxia, without whom I probably would be writing a lot less and who I’ve already been showering with appreciation today, but what the heck, you deserve even more.

Originally posted by addictedtoleepace

Now, I don’t nearly read as much fic as I want to and because of that I’m missing out on a lot of awesome content and awesome authors, but have a list of writers I appreciate and who I’m always happy to see more of (in no particular order): @banshee-cheekbones @girlsarewolves @neurotoxia @owltrocious @poorshadowspaintedqueens @freshbrainss @salmonypink @daasgrrl @splix71 @kiiouex @addicted-to-his-knife @voldiebuns @elvamire @jbird181 

I’m certainly forgetting people because this looks seriously short, but if I’ve ever left a kudo or a comment on your work, please know that you’re amazing and I’m looking foward to reading more from you! Keep up the good work!

You know what I like more than these numbers
knowledge. For some more modest boasting don’t forget to hit like button, comment, follow my blog, support my patreon and Kickstarter while selling your soul to the devil, if we get twelve quadrillion likes on this post my grandma won’t have been hit by a car and I’ll make more posts OH YEAH.

For @feelingsinwinter because thanks to your encouragement I finally had the courage to post the last two parts <3

8. Winter

Winter, Antonia has always thought, is a time for reflection. The endless balls and galas her mother insists demand her presence give her ample opportunity to do so.

There is her mother, the regal beauty of the ball, all smiles and warm welcomes as she gathers information, listens and watches with a sharpness hidden by velvet and diamonds.

There is her father, entertaining friends and enemies with his tales and his bragging, loud and louder, filling the room with noise, shining bright enough to blind. Dazzling his audience with too much freely shared information to give them the chance to ask relevant questions.

There is Tiberius, navigating through the crowd like a seasoned sailor approaches the sea, a winning smile on his lips as he jokes and teases and flirts his way into the good grace of yet another young lady in attendance, a cocky playboy enjoying his youth, for all the world to see.

The images they portray may fall a little flat here and there, may be disturbed by the occasional pointed question her mother asks, the wordless threat in her father’s smile when one of his acquaintances’ derb comments goes too far, the untouched coldness in Tiberius’ eyes that never warm, but those inconsistencies are lost in the glitter and glamour of the season.

For what is Christmas, if not the time of lies? What is there to reflect upon, when your world is only as deep as the two-dimensional illusion everyone is so careful to maintain? What is kindness, if not the pretence to care?

I swear I didn’t mean to make it depressing. It isn’t, not really. I tried to address three of her most important personal relationships without actually addressing them, which then turned into this *shrug*

I wrote some more. Because they were alone in that elevator shaft for a WHILE. I’m on a roll right now. 

Season 2 Voltron spoilers ahead, under a cut for length. 

They stopped halfway up the elevator shaft, chests heaving and backs slicked with sweat, and Keith tightened his grip on Lance’s elbows ever so slightly. “Look…we’re never going to get out of here if we keep fighting.”

Lance slumped against him, breath ragged, and nodded. “I know.”

“Do you have a problem with me?”

It was out before Keith could stop it, his internal struggle with all things Galra vanishing in place of confusion. He back tracked quickly, shaking his head. “Never mind, sorry, we should just-”


Keep reading

Strong - Youngjae (Day 68/100)

You can find my post explaining the 100 Day Drabble Challenge here

To read the other drabbles in my drabble challenge, click here

Prompt: Strong
Member: Youngjae x Reader
AU: Avatar!AU

Word Count: 778

“No way, I don’t believe you! Show me!” you stated, grinning from your cross legged position on the courtyard.

Jackson gave you a smile that said ‘I got this’ and shrugged like it was no big deal. BamBam was giggling next to you excitedly along with Yugyeom while Youngjae was seated next to you, watching with a judgmental look and raised eyebrows.

“Just watch, Y/N,” Jackson said.

You watched closely as he walked over to the massive boulder, took it in his hands and gave it what seemed like the smallest squeeze. However, almost instantaneously, the boulder shattered in his hands and fell to the ground in tiny pebbles.

BamBam and Yugyeom were immediately on their feet, cheering and hugging the older boy, remarking how cool he was to be able to do such things. You remained seated but clapped jovially and smiled at the boys.

“Wasn’t that cool?” you asked Youngjae, who had turned his attention to the grass. He now looked up to you with a small ‘huh?’ but then followed your gaze to Jackson.

“Why do they always have to show off and be so loud?” he mumbled, pouting as he split the blades of grass. You glanced at your boyfriend and gave him a small smile, knowing something was wrong.

“Hey,” you said, turning to him and away from the three boys that were running around throwing fireballs and stones at each other. “What’s on your mind?” you asked, taking Youngjae’s hand in your own to stop him from plucking another blade of grass. He didn’t look up for a moment, but when he did, you could see pain on his beautiful face.

“Why is everyone else so much more powerful than me?” he asked. “Jackson’s stronger, Yugyeom’s faster, BamBam’s…BamBam,” he added, glaring at the boys who were now far off. His voice was low and you could tell that this had been bothering him for a while, but you were a bit confused.

“What are you talking about, Youngjae?” you asked, shaking your head. “You’re really good at waterbending! You were just telling me yesterday about the bird you were able to heal!” you pointed out, giving him a small smile.

He looked up at you with a grim expression and rolled his eyes, pulling his hand from yours and crossing his arms around his chest as if he was trying to protect himself from the world.

“Yea, cool. I can heal things. Tell me when that’s ever going to be useful in a fight,” Youngjae said, tearing his eyes away from you and looking out towards the meadow. You put a hand gently on his arm and felt him flinch but he didn’t pull away.

“Youngjae, don’t do this to yourself. Everyone is different. Everyone has their own way of doing things. It doesn’t matter if – ”

“But it matters to me! If I can’t fight then how am I supposed to protect the people I love? How am I supposed to protect you? How…” Youngjae bit his lip and looked down again. He didn’t look sad, just frustrated at himself.

“I want to be someone that can protect you,” he whispered, leaning into your hand that was still resting on his shoulder. You moved closer to him and put your head in the crook of his neck.

“You can protect me, Youngjae. You train hard every day, and I know you might not always be able to see your progress, but I do. And I love you for it. So please, don’t change for me. I like you just the way you are,” you said, pecking your boyfriend’s cheek.

“I know…thanks jagiya,” Youngjae said, taking a deep breath and giving you a small smile. Everyone had insecurities and although you hated it when Youngjae’s hurt him, you did your best to be there for him.

You were about to continue when Yugyeom ran over with a sheepish look on his face.

“Hyung, can you help us? BamBam pushed Jackson into the water and he lost his badge so he won’t be able to go back to school,” Yugyeom said, giggling lightly. You glanced over at the lake and saw BamBam and Jackson arguing at the edge of the sand.

“Guess he’s better with stones than sand, huh?” you said, standing up and laughing as Youngjae stood up next to you, keeping his hand in yours.

“Alright, I’ll get it,” Youngjae said, dramatically. “But Jackson owes me food after this,” he added, smiling lightly. You walked with him as Yugyeom ran ahead and you gave your boyfriend’s arm a small squeeze.

“See? You’re totally useful,” you giggled, pecking his cheek once more.

anonymous asked:

I've met guys like Tiberius I think most women have and can I say from the bottom of my heart-I hope Antonia puts on some brass knuckles and punches him in the teeth. Which is a credit to your writing, you gave such a good air of visceral sliminess to him

I was very curious to see how people would perceive Ty in this verse, so thank you very much for sharing your thoughts! Tiberius will be an important part of Antonia’s life in one way or another, I think it’ll be in the next three instalments why that is and what role he’ll play. All I’m gonna say is Antonia will need that steely spine of hers–but then, when doesn’t she?

(I have to admit I’m a little surprised about the sliminess tho. Not that Ty isn’t a bastard, of course he is, but he didn’t fake friendliness and compliments, for him he was actually quite honest. But maybe I just have a different association with slimy behaviour)

I’m sorry you had to deal with people like that in real life!

Moon River

This is part of my Drabble Game and is written for the wonderful @luckynumber1213

Prompts: “Tell me a secret. Your deepest darkest secret.”


Imagine being a drifter like Nori and befriending him and spending the night in on his secret hideouts in the wild.

You were out of breath. Heaving as you bent over behind a tree. You were more than certain your pursuers had lost you much further back and yet your adrenaline had kept you running. You had never been so close to being caught; truly, you had rarely even been a suspect. Though it was not entirely your fault. Two thieves in one locale made things a bit difficult.

Keep reading

Little Brat

Overall Summary: You are the oldest of the Durins and you live your life happily until the day Smaug attacks. That is when you lost the trust of your little brother, Thorin.

Chapter Summary: You make your way to the mountain.

Pairing: Thorin x Sister!Reader; OC x Reader.

Previous Chapter: Chapter 15

Next Chapter: Chapter 17

The nine of you make your way out of the house and you realize that Bard’s boat was not big enough for all of you.

Keep reading

His Best Friend’s Sister

Notes: Fluff. I think this is really an adorable idea! Thank you for requesting this ahh! This was extremely fun to write although I had a bit of trouble because I wasn’t sure whether I should focus on Eisuke mostly or Soryu. So, it wounded up in a mix with both of them fighting over the MC (*cough* you *cough*). My apologies in advance, if this isn’t what you wanted but I just thought this would be more fun and lighter to read! 

Tagging these dudes because I think it’d make them smile (it’s a 50/50 chance though): @carinecaldre69 & @miyukushina & @dumb-and-dumber-with-leah & @tresspadesmaid@catchthespade

Let’s get more air—because you might need it for the incoming laugh fest!

It was a normal Tuesday when Eisuke called forth for a special dinner. At first, Soryu and the others didn’t understand why there was a need to have dinner together since 99.3% of the bidders time was spent at Ichinomiya’s luxurious penthouse. But the millionaire was persistent! He promised that he would be paying for everyone’s meal and he’d be bringing along a… marvelous surprise.

While the other bidders were astounded by his sudden generosity, Soryu couldn’t help but wonder how “marvelous” was this surprise. He would have been the first person (or so he’d like to think) whom Eisuke would confide about news. Good or bad. However, for the past few days, the mobster noticed that he was acting quite odd. A bit more… approachable and less cranky. It meant the news was something really good—but he never came up to Soryu.


In the end, everyone agreed to join the dinner and everyone wore their best attires—suits, neckties or maybe bowties, gelled hair and manly cologne—knowing they’d be spending the dinner somewhere in a fancy restaurant… And as expected, Eisuke has overdone it again as he led everyone to one of the best five-star restaurants in the city. The folks there even let them have their own private room, away from the other customers. 

Only Eisuke Ichinomiya. 

Once everyone was settled in their seats. Eisuke tapped his glass formally, clearing his throat before saying, “You are all here tonight because you are all considered one of my most special… friends.”

“We’re your only friends,” Mamoru had muttered under his breath and Soryu found himself agreeing with the bearded slacker for once. Ignoring the snide, Eisuke motioned at the door, trying to get someone to walk inside. “Gentlemen. And Mamoru. This is my sister.”

As if rehearsed (probably was), you walked in.

Everyone gasped and clapped upon your arrival. You smiled. 

To Eisuke, this moment was gorgeous, precious and quite satisfying since this meant you would easily fit in this new lifestyle more. While everyone was cheering for the long-lost-but-now-found sister, Soryu’s mouth was still left wide open in utter disbelief. Eisuke wasn’t an idiot but… what if you actually weren’t his sister? Perhaps, that’s one of his reasons why he hasn’t told Soryu about you. He is probably scared about me noticing she isn’t the one and… Soryu frowned as he kept picturing Eisuke’s torn face. The millionaire often claimed he has never broken down but… he was still human.

While thinking deeply about his friend’s reaction, your eyes met Soryu’s and you tilted your head, questioningly. 

Shoot. He quickly shut his mouth and instead of following his gut that was telling him to look away, Soryu did his best to glare at you, trying to establish that he wasn’t the friendliest human being and should be avoided at all cost. Although his cheeks were reddening. Hang on. That wasn’t quite right. Well… He… was a bit caught off guard upon seeing you in such a strapping outfit—a scarlet red dress with delicate ruffles and tight curves—no doubt that Eisuke bought it from one of the most expensive clothing lines. 

And yet as time ticked, the formal introductions went by, jokes were made and everyone was either too happy or too drunk to hold onto one conversational thread. Currently, Ota and Baba were humming along to a Barenaked Ladies’ song in their head, Mamoru has fallen asleep on the dinner table and Eisuke was pulling out his wallet to pay for the bills.

Soryu was quiet the entire time. He made sure he was still sober enough—just to study you mostly. He needed to make sure, for his best friend’s sake that you weren’t an impostor. Technically, Soryu didn’t have any basis to say you were one. He only knew a few things about Eisuke’s “long-lost-sister”… You would obviously have that “mark” Eisuke once said. But it might have been fake. Who knows? … Gun in hand, he’d just have to watch you for anything suspicious.

However after a while, he wasn’t sure why you approached him with a smile spreading on your face—was it because he was sober/awake or you simply caught his not-so-subtle staring? Before Soryu could figure it out, you both started talking and he found it quite… easy? Normally, he found women quite annoying especially with their stench that they called, “perfume”. You probably had one but Soryu didn’t find himself smelling it. He was instead, more focused on your eyes. Your lips.That smile.

“Are you really part of the mafia?”

“… Eisuke told you?”

“He tells me everything,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Mamo is a detective. Fedora man is a thief. Kisaki has something to do with the art. And you are a mobster but I find that hard to believe.”

“Why is that so?” 

“Because my brother says animals magically like you.” 

Soryu isn’t sure if you were teasing him but he did find it a bit… charming. In response though, the mobster pulled out the gun he was holding, making sure that none of the personal waiters could catch a glimpse of it. “Whether you find me threatening or not, I am a man who knows how to shoot and I am not afraid to pull the trigger. And you?” 


“… Are you really Eisuke’s sister?” His eyes glinted.

“I am.” You smiled. “And because of your deep concern, I guess… you really are his friend. By the way, does Eisuke really buy you all the hair products to make that hair style?”

“… No.”

“Liar. He totally did.”

Soryu scowled at you. What an annoying woman. Now, he could say with certainty that you were related to Eisuke by blood. Before he could rertort, two drunk men—namely Baba and Ota—dragged you off. They also apparently wanted to play with Soryu’s new toy, your eyes though while walking away still trained on him. He didn’t look away either.

“I saw the look you were giving her,” said a voice.

Soryu swiftly turned to find Eisuke who folded his arms. His glowers were even more hellish… and murderous. “I don’t like that look,” he growled.

“Oh, I was just suspicious if she could be an impostor,” Soryu spoke calmly as he tried to choose his words carefully. “I figured that’s why you didn’t tell me about her days ago because… you didn’t want to hear me say that she might not be…” 

Soryu faltered as Eisuke shook his head.

“Dumbass. She is my sister.”

“… I was just looking out for you.”

Eisuke sighed. “I know… But what I meant by look I meant is—you’re giving her the kind of look that Baba makes when he sees a woman.”

“I-I wasn’t thinking of that!” Fully familiar with that Baba look.

“Good. She’s not up for a one-night-stand.”

“… But I could ask her on a date, right?” It was supposed to be a joke but hearing it out loud, it didn’t sound like one. In fact, it made his heart beat faster. Why? Was it because it sounded… dangerous? It absolutely did with Eisuke’s glare stabbing Soryu.

Stay away from my sister, Oh,” growled Eisuke as he briskly brushed past Soryu, bumping his shoulder and making him lose his balance a bit. Dumbfounded, Soryu watched Eisuke saunter towards you—clearly annoyed that you were being toyed around by Baba and Ota. He really had no intention of making a move on you or whatsoever. But there was still something about you that he wanted to know more of. Soryu doubt that Eisuke would allow him to talk to you personally alone again but… He marked this as Attempt 01. Heh. The mobster wasn’t giving up. 

Neither was the millionaire as he also marked this moment as the first attempt. And so, the unspoken battle begins with Soryu’s attempts to win your heart—and Eisuke’s attempts to shove those attempts back into the mobster’s ass.

Attempt 07. 

You and Soryu have both been talking a lot and most of the time when the bidders come over, Soryu noticed that you’d be paying more attention to him… Not that he found it bothersome. Instead, he saw how precious you were to even notice him first in a room full of men who are obviously so much better than him—even the slacker detective sounds better than a stone cold, dangerous mobster. And yet here you were, entering the elevator and looking up to Soryu.

“Hi,” Soryu heard you say.

“Hello,” he greeted back with a smooth voice. You both wounded up inside the elevator together. But not alone together. You were with your older brother and Soryu came along with Ota who was going down to check the antique to be auctioned. An unsettling silence stayed in the elevator as it went down the famous hotel. Ota leaned against the elevator rail. Eisuke wrapped an arm around you, almost territorial. Soryu just had his arms folded, finding his shoes more and more interesting. 

It was awfully quiet and Soryu could practically smell the tension until Ota broke the silence in a singsong voice with the worst statement ever: 

“Hey, Soryu has a pick-up-line for you!”

Keep reading

Don’t put us second - Oliver Wood

Author: Me, something-imagined

Pairing: Oliver Wood x reader

Request: Can you do an Oliver Wood one where you fight about how much time he spends doing Quidditch and ignoring you, and can they make up(but not too cheesy :D) thank you xx Ps: my name is Annika if you need it in the story or something

Triggers: Break up, a bit angry in the beginning but nothing bad

Note: I hope that this wasn’t too cheesy, I tried ;)

“How can you say that? You know how important the coming g-”

“The coming game!? Oh, of course I do, Oliver, it’s the only thing you talk about!” The anger rose in your voice, “And it’s sooo important, just like the game before, and the game before that! When does it end?”

The fire in the common room had almost died out, in the beginning of the night you had put on some more wood so it would stay alive as you completed your assignment while you waited. Watching all of your friends go to bed you finished homework after homework until Oliver stumbled through the door with the rest of the team scuffing behind. The only thing you wanted to do was talk to him about how things had been lately, and you knew that this would be the longest moment you would see him for more than a week with the big game against Ravenclaw coming up. You never meant for it to turn into a fight.

“What gives you the right to try and control how I spend my time; to confront me for putting time and effort into something I love?” His face was flushed from the training, and now frustration was practically radiating from him, colouring his every word with anger.

“When it feels like the person I love doesn’t love me back anymore, I have all the right.” You could suddenly feel a hard knot forming in your throat and tears trying to push their way over your lashes, staining your cheeks as well as the relationship you thought was so unbreakable.

“I do love you, but you’re draining me and I- I can’t be with someone that can’t accept that I don’t spend every single moment with them!”

“That’s- that’s not at all what I-” you interrupted yourself, realising what he said, “If that’s how you feel then maybe we should just blow this all off, ease the burden of being with me.”

He exhaled a sarcastic laughter, “Fine, that would probably be for the best.”

“Fine,” you mimicked harshly, quickly turning around and stomping up to your dorm; leaving him alone in the darkness before he could see the tears tearing down every your wall. You wanted to hurt him so badly; it left a hollow aching in your body and your pillow damp the next morning. It was ridiculous now you understood the billion songs written about heartbreak that you knew you would do anything for everything go back to normal; but it couldn’t be that way when you wanted him to feel the breathtaking pain that you felt ripping through your body every time you heard his name.

“Y/N, have you talked to Oliver?” George Weasley sat down next to you at dinner with a concerned look. It had been over two weeks since the break up and everyone on the team had been tiptoeing around the both of you. None of them mentioning Oliver’s increased dedication for the team; pushing them harder and forcing in even more training into the schedule than ever before. You pushed the plate away from you before facing the ginger in full quidditch outfit.

“No,” the word hurt, you should have, “Why?”

“Well, he didn’t show up for practice this morning - and you know he’d never volunteeringly miss a-”

“Practice, or anything to do with quidditch, I know.”

“Yeah…” George nervously rubbed his neck and looked down, “This morning when we went to find him John, y’know his dorm mate, said that he was feeling unwell, so we let him be and trained anyway. The thing is that he didn’t show up for the practice that we were supposed to have now either, and it seems like no one else has seen him for the entire day. And now…”

A worry you knew you shouldn’t have blossomed in your chest when George left the words hanging, making the piece of food in your mouth expand. Angelina walked over to you with exhaustion smudged over her entire face and continued to explain what George had trouble to, “He’s locked himself in, won’t let in anyone.”

“I don’t know why you think it would be such a great idea if I went, we broke up y’know, he doesn’t want anything to do with me,” you said as Angelina and George pushed you in the direction of the boys dorms. Your own words hurt, but it was the truth.

“It’s worth a shot; he won’t even open the door for us, he only tells us to leave him alone.”

You sighed and shook you head to yourself as you started the climb up the narrow stone staircase; reaching the wooden door you knew a bit better than the teachers probably would have liked without problem. You rose your hand to knock, but instead froze right where you stood. Unable to do anything but inhale and exhale in the half dark whilst the flames from the torches danced out their light, as conflicted as you. Then you shook your head, if he was feeling bad you wanted to be able to help, even if he broke your heart you couldn’t deny him help if he needed it. Besides, he couldn’t feel bad about your break up could he? He looked like he’d been fine since, only showing you that you were right to split up; if he cared about you he wouldn’t be fine. Right? Your fist quickly met the door before you could change your mind. A long silence followed, and you almost didn’t dare to breathe in case it would be louder the answer from inside.

“Go away.”

The voice was muffled, sounding like it came from further into the room, but it was undoubtedly his.

“Oliver, it’s me,” you swallowed hard, not knowing how to continue, “Please let me in, the others are worried about you.”

Silence again; a faint breathing from the other side of the door and the mutter to raise the spell locking the door. It opens by itself a smudge with a soft creaking, then further pressed open by a red-eyed figure in pyjama pants and a blue washed-out Puddlemere United-shirt. You stood in silence for a while; him studying your face with a sad expression; you nervously biting your lip.

“So they figured it out, huh?” Oliver stated with a raspy voice, taking a step back from the doorframe to let you in.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and walked past him, “Figured what out?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair that revealed that he had spent all day in bed, meeting your eyes with a sadness that you never has seen before. “Figured out that I finally broke down, they knew all along that I wouldn’t be able to ignore our break up forever even if I spent all my energy on the field.”

A breath stuck in your lungs, “I- I didn’t think you cared; that us ending things just made it easier for you and that I was just something… holding you back.”

Tears started to well up and blur your vision, you quickly looked down to the stone floor and wiped away the water that had already escaped your leaking eyes. A hand is suddenly on your shoulder in a comforting touch, and your body reacts naturally to the familiar contact; finding the warmth of his embrace and he let out a shaky breath as he wrapped his arms tightly around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered in your hair, “For not being with you as much as I wanted to, placing you second, not listening to you when you wanted to talk about it, for- for letting you go.”

You felt locked, not knowing if your voice could bear spilling all of your feelings; all anger, sadness, and wish never relive this week again, but most of all you knew you would take him back in a second.

“I know you might not want to try again, not even if I promise that I’ll do better, because I know I’ve lost your trust there,” he continued and laughed sadly, his voice thick and threatening to crack. Oliver backed away a bit from the embrace and searched with his teary eyes over yours, “It hurts not being able to say that I’m yours anymore, that I did so badly that you didn’t want me to be. I want to be with you more than anything, and I can only hope that you can give me another chance.”

A tear glimmered and you brought up your hand to wipe it away and softly caress his flushed cheek. “I love you, more than I probably should judging by how easy you broke me,” Oliver opens his mouth to say something but you place a finger on his lips, “I know you did wrong, we both took it too far, and I want us again. I just- I can’t be put second, Oliver. I don’t want you to prioritise me over everything else, because that isn’t love and I know how much quidditch means to you, but promise me that we won’t come second.”

“Yes,” he nodded quickly and a big smile lightened up his face, “I promise.”

“Good,” you smiled happily and without hesitation you let your other hand slide to the back of his neck whilst still cupping his face with the other; having his hands on your back pulling you closer as you connected your lips in a warm kiss. The taste of his lips filled your sore chest with a warmth that slowly started to heal the wounds.

anonymous asked:

why do you hate gwen? i don't have any knowledge about the sm franchise, other than the movies, and emma stone's gwen always seemed a better character than kirsten dunst's mj. why do you think mj's the better character?

i always cringe when ppl say emma stone’s gwen is better hahahah

emma stone’s gwen is basically a rip off of mj. they just made her like science thefore she was gwen.

emma’s gwen is not an accurate portrayal of gwen stacy. and kristin’s wasn’t a perfect portrayal of mj.

but here’s a more in depth answer: