the suit was too big ; ;

what the zodiac signs are made of

Aries: cherry red lipstick and feminism

Taurus: chocolate fudge cake and romantic rose gardens at 5PM

Gemini: bees

Cancer: hot chocolate with marshmallows and crippling self-esteem issues

Leo: brilliant smiles and paint stained skinny jeans

Virgo: raised eyebrows and aesthetically pleasing minimalistic items

Libra: cabrio rides with their significant other and striped crop tops

Scorpio: Witchcraft and intense staring contests with strangers

Sagittarius: Pinboards with magnets from all over the world and nerdy glasses that are too big for their faces

Capricorn: Grey business suits and long conversations about the meaning of life at night

Aquarius: Rainbows and brutal honesty

Pisces: Seashells at the shore and struggles to keep themselves alive

Edgy Fluff Hcs

A promise is a promise and i am a onion of my words;

  • Dark tends to have a lot of muscular problems due to how stressed and overwhelmed he is in a constant daily basis, he often suffers a lot of spine/back pain and headaches due to this. 
    Anti is totally aware of this and that is why when Dark is laying down ( when he ever lays down) Anti sits on him so he doesn’t move and starts doing massages on his upper back. 
    You can hear the cracking Dark’s back while he does so, those were very needed.
  • Then Dark stretches like a grumpy cat and is tbh so pleased but won’t thank him cause that would mean being nice.
  • Anti says ‘you’re welcome’ anyways. 
  • Dark is fan of romantic movies with sad endings, Anti prefers action movies or horror with gore. 
    Even though its not what he prefers Anti sits through Dark’s old-timey novellas without complaining.
    He says he can hear Dark’s faint heart beat faster while he watches them though he is showing no emotion.
  • When dark is-uh- preparing the meat for a dinner he often invites Anti to do it because he knows how much he enjoys the gore of it. 
    Anti looks like a 5 year old with a new toy every single time. 
  • As i already said before, Dark washes Anti’s hoodies cause the virus is just lazy. But he does not stop there, poor man ends up doing the full laundry very often. 
  • Anti knows how soul wrecking (from his point of view) is to wash clothes so in a exchange he ends up cleaning Dark’s room. When it ever needs some sort of cleaning. 
  • Dark has a tendency of scratching the back of Anti’s ears when he does a good job on something. Anti loves it. 
  • Even though it is rare, when Dark has his downer moments Anti is the one to drag him out of his room or even medicate him accordingly. In these Dark is almost unresponsive so that takes a lot of effort. 
  • In the other hand when Anti has his psychotic episodes it always ends up with Dark hugging Anti tight and locking him on place so he does not create any more havoc on their home. Anti does the impossible to break free, from mutilating the back of Dark with his claws of chewing his neck out, still does not work because Dark is determined in not moving, no matter how much it hurts. It takes at least a week for Dark to recover from the bad ones, which is why under his neat suit sometimes he is wrapped in bandages.
  • Even though these two are constantly colliding due to how different they are, they managed to have a working and healthy (in their sense) living environment. These took years to generate. You can say they finally learned to appreciate the differences they have.
  • Dark has a collection of ties, Anti tries to help by stealing getting him new ones, even though he is not aware, Anti has a terrible fashion sense and the ties end up being awful in patterns.
  • Dark still uses these ugly af ties his fav one is the one with the ugly flamingos on it. 
  • The main reason Dark got into cooking ( and is now a amazing chef) and hunting is because in the early days Anti would simply not eat at all.
    This would end up in him being a sack of bones for days which Dark found both disturbing and worrying. 
  • “What type of food you like?”
    “A type i cannot get locked up in here.”
    “Try me”
  • Oh and let me mention of cheesy Anti gets when he tries to calm down a furious Dark.
    “No it is not, i would sell Mark to Satan for a corn chip and you know that. I’m here and I listen, please calm down, it’s okay, tell me what is bothering you.”
  • Anti wears Dark’s suits when he is out of clean clothes, these often are too big for him so they look hilarious on him, except the pants, the pants are always too short for Anti.

I have more so ya’ll let me know if you want me to write more.


Request from @iamanoreo4: Hi! Don’t know if this has been requested before, but could you do an imagine where Reader is friends with the Golden Trio and she has feelings for Harry but after meeting Draco (who may or may not like her *shrug*) those feelings fade? And you can take it from there because you’re an amazing writer! Thanks in advance!

Thank you for requesting! This was so fun to write, I hope you enjoy :) I decided to add it so that Harry likes Reader but he’s really bad at showing those feelings so theres more drama because lets face it I’m a slut for a bit of angst ;) By the way, this turned out to be longer than expected and I wasn’t too sure whether or not to make it into a second part so it’s just a really long piece of writing.


Originally posted by superiorgirls1

You didn’t know when you started to like Harry, but you knew you liked him for sure. You’d dream about him; you pictured the simple future the two of you could have together and how perfect it would be, living a life of harmony at last with the Chosen One. “Tell him Y/N. I know Harry, he likes you back.” Hermione said one night in the common room. It was a Thursday night, it was just the two of you alone because the boys had gone to Quidditch practice and well, you didn’t really know where anyone else was. “He doesn’t Hermione. We’ve been friends for five years, he should’ve made a move by now.” You mumble, highlighting an extract from the stupid transfiguration book you had to read before Monday morning. 

Hermione slammed her book shut, sighing as she leaned forward. You felt her staring at you and your lips turned up in a smirk as she waited for you to say something. “I’ll talk to him.” She says, knowing it’ll get a reaction out of you. “No you won’t!” You argued. You set your book down, leaning back. “Why does everything have to be so complicated?” Hermione chuckled. “Boys are boys - whether you like it or not, Harry’s a bit dim when it comes to girls. I doubt he even knows how to get a word in sideways about how to talk to you about this sort of thing.” You roll your eyes, the whole concept feeling really stupid. “Well he needs to learn because it’s really inconvenient.” You look down at your watch, cursing. 

“Shit! I was meant to meet Draco Malfoy in the library five minutes ago! McGonagall’s going to kill me.” You practically yell as you grab your bag and head toward the portrait hole. Hermione wishes you a good luck before you leave. Professor McGonagall had (without your permission) signed you up to help Draco with certain topics concerning Transfiguration. The rest of your friends never got on with him but you’d never been a victim of his so-called name calling-general wrath thing he had going on. You bound your way down the staircases until you arrive at the library, panting as you make a mental note to work on your cardio. To your surprise, Draco seemed to be running late as well; he turned up at the same time, sweaty and flushed. “You’re running late as well?” You ask, pulling your hair behind your ear. “No, well yeah, I had Quidditch practice and Flint wouldn’t let me go.” He apologises with a smile, opening the door for you to walk in first. You thanked him as you waited for him to catch up.

“I hear they’re really coming down hard on Quidditch this year.” You say in attempt to make small talk. “Uh, yeah. It’s definitely becoming more of a workout.” Draco chuckles, sitting down at a table amidst the completely desolate library, exempt for Madam Pince. “I can tell, you’re all sweaty.” You laugh, pointing at his glistening forehead. Despite what you’d been told about the Malfoy boy, he seemed to be nice and fairly good looking. You couldn’t believe you’d never had a single conversation with him before, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his green Quidditch undershirt hugged his muscles. “Marcus would never had let me go early if I didn’t look like I was about to pass out from exhaustion.” Draco laughed, pulling out his Transfiguration book from his rucksack. You bit your lip, suddenly feeling bad. “I’m sorry McGonagall made us do this tonight of all nights. You shouldn’t have missed Quidditch training for me.” You declare, watching as Draco’s lips formed a small smirk. A small butterfly swam around your stomach, but you ignored it. “I wanted to.” He smiled before the smallest blush flashed across his cheeks. 

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Sooooo I wrote a little more of the mob boss omega Rhys AU with Russian alpha bodyguard Jack so….I hope you all like it c:

Rhys is so new—new in money, new in power, new in body that it makes Jack’s breath short in his throat.

Jack, who has cut his teeth on some many men, old and blubbery and armed only with years of loyalty and manipulation to innervate arthritic muscles usually clenched around pen or pipe rather than gun or knife—Jack who has killed more than his far share of arrogant upstarts as superficially fresh-faced as Rhys—sees something more that he hasn’t seen in a long time in the young omega.

And it’s exhilarating to watch.

It’s been only a few scant months since Rhys’ father, Jack’s former boss, met his end in a busy train station with hundreds of witnesses but somehow, no leads. Rhys could have very easily been swept under the carpet of the ensuing power struggle, or killed, or worse considering his omega status, if not for Jack and his pistol stepping in the path of the bullets fixed on the back of Rhys’ head.

“If you don’t step up, зайчик, they’re going to kill you.” Jack had murmured, his hand heavy on the back of Rhys’ neck one night in the boy’s new office. The carpet is mustard yellow and stained with old spots of blood, the desk cleared of any personal affects, blank and lacquered and shining in the lamplight. Jack had felt the moment that the trembling of the boy in his too big suit and too big chair had stiffened, resolve hard as chips of ice in Rhys’ eyes as the omega looked up at him.

“All right. Let them come.”

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agenderlouie  asked:

ur art makes me so happy thank u so much for all of ur drawings ily (also i know ur doing the pinkfest thing but if u ever feel like drawing something I was thinking Louis wearing one of Harry's huge floral suits that's too big for him it might be cute just a suggestion ily ily)

im so late to reply to this but !! x  💖 this is a cute message ahh !!!! thank youuu

louis in the iconic lace shirt !! i hope u like itttt x

anonymous asked:

jazz composer yuuri and super extra classical composer viktor's first meeting. see i can do it on anon too

(yuuri’s playing this // victor plays this)

Victor has no idea who the beautiful boy is, but he’s definitely fucking up Chopin, in the worst possible way there is to fuck up Chopin.

He sits onstage in a suit two sizes too big for him, bathing in the shitty dim stage lights of this poet’s café, and the piano is a Fazioli, of all contraptions.

And yet.

This is the most beautiful thing he has ever experienced, Victor thinks. Never mind the travesty that has been made out of the étude. Chopin’s emotional tribute to the Polish uprising against Russia, reduced to the musical imagery of a late-night bebop. Victor would be pissed if he wasn’t so damn turned on.

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anonymous asked:

((i'm fixed!)) bim trimmer hc: always double knots his shoes; cannot keep a straight face; was the one who gave dark the idea to wear suits; good at sleight of hand; is a Ho for ppl running their hands through his hair; blushes terribly when he's embarrassed; is allergic to peanuts like ethan; always used a briefcase instead of a backpack as a kid bc "it makes me look more grown up!" *insert picture of a roundfaced todder wearing a too-big suit and tripping over the pant legs* [k]

these are adorable! i need more bim stuff in my life tbh 💙

Don't do space drugs, kids

I’m actually really proud of this one! Another fix for @taylor-tut
If y'all have something you want me to write, hit up my ask box or even just message me. I like friends. Also I’m on mobile, so if the cut doesn’t work, I’m super sorry.

‘Lance, you aren’t dying.’

Those four little words had become like a mantra in his head for the past hour, a lifeboat keeping him safe in denial. In truth, he really wasn’t dying, but being sick in space was still scary. Normally, Lance had a tendency to hide any illness that happened to strike him, downing copious amounts of DayQuil and going about his life. He had collapsed a handful of times in a childhood full of various illnesses, which, for him, was a pretty big deal.

Still, there was no way to do that now. Lance was a paladin, albeit the weakest link of the chain in his mind, and paladins were close. No, he couldn’t possibly just work through this. He couldn’t bear the thought of worrying anyone, not this early in their whole “family dynamic” thing. Besides, he didn’t have DayQuil, or any medicine, jo matter what he wished.

Instead, Lance decided to talk to Allura. She would be discreet, surely. And thus far, human biology didn’t seem that different from that of Alteans. So everything would be fine.

“You’re symptoms seem a bit strange from my perspective, Lance.” Allura’s brow was creased with worry, despite Lance’s bright smile. Keeping such a wide grin plastered on his face would probably help him get the space drugs, he figured.

A few anxious thoughts crossed his mind, flashing words like 'addiction’, 'side effects’, and 'death’, but he shrugged them off. He just had to make it through the next few days, when his body (hopefully) would be fully recovered.

“Nah, by human standards this is pretty mild!” Allura’s brows remained creased. “I promise, Allura, I’m fine. Well, not fine fine, but I’m not dying or anything. Just a sore throat and a little headache, that’s all.” This time he was lying, purposely leaving out the swirling feeling in his stomach and that fact that his headache wasn’t exactly small - his eyes felt like that were being scraped out with a sharp spoon. Still, he grinned and bore it, nodding as she told him the specifics of the little green pills she’d handed him before shooing him away so she could rest. Allura always seemed tired these days, and Lance reminded himself not to complain of exhaustion when those better than him were also ailing.

As per the princess’ instructions, he downed the pills with a full pouch of water and a bite or two of food goo, and within the hour, he felt the effects. His eyes didn’t really feel better, they felt… huh. None of him felt better per say. His aches and pains felt numb, not better, and never before had he really noticed the difference. He found after some trying he could walk normally, turn his head, speak, lift his arms… the feeling returned without pain as numbness faded into oblivion and was replaced with a feeling Lance could only describe as “anxious pins and needles”.

Every inch of him felt jittery and overflowing with energy. It reminded him of the time his brother had first started taking Ridellan for his ADHD, and described feeling his hair standing on edge inside his brain. Only, Lance felt a little different. Energized.

He could still feel the quakes of what had to be a fever coursing through his veins, but pure energy flowed alongside it, and he was itching to train. Bouncing off the walls.

When he came running into the training deck, Shiro raised an eyebrow.

“Lance?” he asked. “What’s going on with you?”

“You look like death, man,” Pidge added. “Maybe you should skip training today and nap.”

Lance felt himself shaking his head furiously. Hair got in his eyes but he didn’t feel it, or recognize his own hand pushing the stray lock away.

Huh. Weird.

“What’s weird?” Hunk asked, stepping forward.

He said that out loud?

“You did. That too. Seriously, are you ok?” Pidge asked, starting to look really worried.

“I’m great!” Lance beamed, though he felt a little like his body was a second suit of armour, a suit far too big for him.

“You sure?” Keith asked. God, even mullet was worried.

“Yes!! I felt a little off this morning but I had a drink and some breakfast and now I feel great! Best medicine ever!!” He could feel himself practically shouting, but didn’t know how to control his own voice now. Starts flashed quickly across his vision, but he shook his head and pulled out his bayard.

“Let’s go, let’s go let’s goletsgoletsgooo!” Lances words came out so fast and loud that his tongue couldn’t keep up and fell behind, slapping the words together in the least graceful way possible.

Shiro and Hunk exchanged worries glances, and Keith stepped forward. Maybe if Lance just worked this energy spurt off, he’d go back to bed and rest. Or shower. Jesus Christ, he was sweating bullets, and practically vibrating where he stood.

He whispered something vaguely reassuring to Shiro as he took his place to begin sparring, hoping to calm their leader’s nerves.

Pidge, on the other hand, ran off to find Allura. She had a feeling something was wrong. Really wrong.

Everything was fuzzy. His head was pounding and fuck it was boiling in here but he had so much energy and somehow amidst all the pain still felt that horrible numbness and he had to get it out of his system.

Keith charged at him and he moved to the side so fast that he stumbled, a whine of pain escaping his lips. No, he couldn’t give up now, once the numbness settled down he could keep going he just had to… had to…

Dodge. Punch. Kick. Shot, at the feet. Keith was down, although, of Lance was at all healthy he would have realized Keith had purposely fallen to end the fight without fever-fuelled tears.

Lance himself collapsed into a chair, only to have Pidge run frantically in two ticks later with a fearful yet determined expression. She pressed her hand to Lance’s cheek, and swore.

Shiro didn’t stop her.

Everything in Lance’s view was blurry and fuzzy and full of imaginary stars. He could barely breathe, but the numbness had finally began to wear off. Something familiar was by his side, and he leaned into someone’s arms at their insistence.

“C'mon Lance, I got you,” the voice said. It sounded like Keith.

“Bonding moment?” Lance asked weakly, feeling rather faint all of the sudden.

Keith hummed back at him. “Yeah, buddy. Cause I’m cradling you in my arms again.”

Sparks Chapter 9

Originally posted by fvckmxk

Pairing: Bucky(POV) X Reader(POV) ft. other characters from the avengers team

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Bucky volunteers to be y/n’s date at a prestigious scientific gala y/n is invited to speak at. Bucky’s feelings for y/n grow and he catches himself gaping at her. After the gala they go back to y/n’s apartment for take out, a movie, and a sleepover. They share a bed once again but this time y/n feels different. After a violent attack with an intruder Bucky saves y/n’s life and realizes he would do anything for her: including kill.

A/N: This is a story about two people building a great friendship and then slowly falling in love. y/n is a strong, independent, and smart scientist. She meets Bucky when she wakes him up from cryo sleep and they become friends. This is going to have all the angst / best friends falling in love / fluff / drama / & eventual smut ;) that I can possibly fit in it. This fic is going to be looong! So far my document is like 80 pages. So editing is hard If you catch any grammatical or formatting errors let me know.

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anonymous asked:

Blush. Looking forward to whatever you come up with! Love your writing!


It’s beautiful out here. Epic, in the full and classical sense of the word. When a guy spends most of his time in the city, it’s easy to forget how, in some places, the horizon can stretch on and on and endlessly on. It’s easy to forget about the beauty that lives in absence. 

The skies roll black with thunder, wrathful and proud. Mulder watches from his motel room window, slouching in a rickety chair, feet propped up against the ledge. Lost in the billow and furl of clouds folding over onto themselves, the bright shocks of lightning touching down here and there, beyond, again. He loves a good storm. He feels like they’re on his side, somehow. Storms, in his experience, bring good things. 

Like little green agents in big red bathrobes. Quivering and warm and sweet in those good-girl panties of hers. Fuck. 

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Playing Pretend

Yoongi slowly walked toward the small house snuck in between bigger buildings at the end of the street. He needed to do this, it had been weeks since he’d last talked to his mother and he was sure she was getting antsy, if the the 121 missed calls and 53 voice messages meant anything. This was just how his life was and he needed to suck it up. Cause Yoongi had learned early on that pity and sadness only equated weakness. When he arrived at the door, he saw it was just as beaten down as the last time he’d seen it, the paint chipped so bad that it looked like an animal had attacked it. He sighed and rang the doorbell, adjusting the one cheap tie he had bought years ago for occasions like this. His suit was two sizes too big and his dress shirt still had a stain from his last visit (hopefully his mother wouldn’t be able to tell). I mean Yoongi wasn’t poor, far from that, his “extracurricular activities” paid well. But Yoongi also believed in not using money where it wasn’t needed. The money it would take to buy a better suit, he could just give to his mom. Combing his hair with his fingers one last time, Yoongi took in a deep breath and pasted on a fake smile. The door creaked open and before him stood his small, stocky mom. Frown lines more prominent, hair grayer, but smile just as bright as ever. Yoongi loved his mother (She was the only family that was worth shit anyway). And he knew what it would do to her to know how he actually survived. So a couple times a year he would dress up in his “office worker” costume and play pretend. He didn’t want to be a bigger disappoint than he already was. Right when she saw him, Yoongi was pulled into a bone crushing hug that smelled of cinnamon and old memories.

“Momf I canth brefthe” Yoongi muffled as his moms relentless hold tightened.

“That’s what you get for making me worried for days. Come back sooner. Have you no respect for your mother. I wait and wait and you never call or com-”

“Alright, alright sorry, I know I suck, I should come more often, but um… work gets very stressful mom.” Yoongi said cutting her off and finally pulling out of the hug. As soon as he mentioned work, his mothers face fell into a sympathetic and worrisome state.

“They’re not overworking you are they. If they are Yoongi say something, they can’t treat you however they want you know” His mother stated defiantly. Worked up on Yoongi’s behalf. She led him into the house and walked straight to the kitchen. If Yoongi knew his mother, he knew there was a feast waiting for him.

“I know mom. Thanks” he sighed sitting down at the table with copious amounts of food on it. “How do you always out do your self. Mom I’m not starving. I don’t send you money just so you can make me dinner that could feed an army.”

“Just say thank you and eat the food. If I don’t spend money on my boy then who else would I spend it on.” She asked, incredulous. She sat down beside him and started placing food on his spoon and plate. “I only need to see you happy to be happy.” Yoongi’s mom was a sap, and she knew just the words to melt his heart. Had it been anyone else, Yoongi would’ve scoffed and degraded their entire existence, but to his mother he could only smile and shove his face. He knew the routine by now, after stuffing himself with food until he weighed about 20 lbs heavier, Yoongi would be asked a series of questions regarding his personal life, then he would mention his workload and his mom would pack him the food he wasn’t able to finish (which could honestly last him a month) and he’d be on his way. The process took about 3hrs. It was simple and always the same. Except this time Jimin had called him nearing the end of the personal questionnaire portion of the evening and his mother had seen the contact info before he quickly hung up. Now he could’ve made any excuse to who Jimin was, If the idiot thug wasnt as possessive as he was, and hadn’t changed his name in Yoongi’s phone from “Rich Asshat” to “❤️Jiminie❤️”. I mean yeah he’d done it months ago, which gave Yoongi plenty of time to change it back, but Yoongi’s excuse of always being too busy remained strong. (Also there was the fact that his name was saved as “Suga😍👌🏾👅” in Jimins phone and he secretly loved the personal feeling it gave off, but you’d catch him dead before he admitted that). So instead of 3hrs it took 4 and a half, as he kept repeating that Jimin wasnt anything serious but rather just a casual relationship. And the hearts around his name were a joke, but his mother wasn’t truly convinced. So he now had to bring Jimin to dinner next time he came, and it had to be before the month ended, or he’d “see his mother’s wrath”. Yoongi grumbled and pouted the rest of the night and huffed an annoyed sigh as he grabbed the bags of food and gave his mother a kiss on the check as he left her home.

“I’m excited to see him.” She smiled, and then narrowed her eyes and continued, “and if I don’t then you won’t have a mother either.” Dramatic was her middle name.

“Yeah yeah” he waved as he left her behind. Playing pretend for his mother was a habit by now. And he sometimes believed she played along. How else would the warm scene of a broken down family, which consisted of a alcoholic, weak mother and her prostitue son making ends just barely meet make sense. Playing pretend was all the two had left, and they took their roles seriously. Cause when Yoongi left the cabinet under the sink would open and wouldn’t close the day before Yoongi next came. Their fucked up lives took breaks for only 3hrs a couple of times a year. Maybe that’s why when Yoongi was far away, he pulled out his phone and dialed the first name on his missed calls list.

“I don’ like it when ya keep me waitin darlin” the voice slurred as Jimin picked up the call.

“I was busy. With my mom. I told you. Why’d you call” he replied short and straight.

“Cuss I missd’ ma baby, and wanted ta play” Jimin continued, voice filled with flirtations. Yoongi fought back a smile, and kept his voice emotionless, he was prostitute, that owed Jimin a shit ton, nothing more and nothing less.

“On my way. But I need to talk to you about something. A favor.” Yoongi said, fully aware of the teasing that would follow.

“Anotha one, ya really like usin’ me don’ ya. Guess we'r jus gonna have ta add it ta ya list. What does ma darlin need.” Jimin asked amused. Yoongi sighed, this would probably equal a 2 weeks worth of fucking, but it really didn’t matter, he basically owed Jimin for life. And he wasn’t really complaining about it either.

“I’ll tell you when I see you.” Yoongi replied, “it’s not that big of a deal compared to what I’ve asked of you before”

“At this point it don’ matta darlin, I’m doin errythin for ya. An I don’ mind” Jimin answered with the same amused and flirtatious voice that now somehow seemed reserved for Yoongi. “Can’ wait ta feel ya baby” he added his voice dipping low. Yoongi hid the arousal from his voice as he just hummed back and then proceeded to end the call. He knew was fucked, but hey at least he was also getting fucked.

For @ask-gangtan (I’m obsessed)

When You Were Young

Thank you so much to @mimisari234 for requesting this. I’m so sorry you had to wait so long darling but I really hope it was worth the wait and that you enjoy. Thank you so much! x x

Request: Hi! What about a one shot where the reader turned into a child and the Avengers need to find a way to bring her back. While, Bucky is responsible to take care of the little reader! Thank you!

Summary: Loki’s revenge falls upon the wrong person. Protective Bucky looking after the little reader was so adorable it literally gave me life!

Words: c. 2,270

Originally posted by museelo

As the chaos of fighting broke out a powerful shot from Loki’s staff had sent you hurtling across the room and finding yourself winded with a painful ringing in your ears you absolutely cursed your mortal body watching Thor and Steve working together to try to bring Loki down but you were physically unable to lift yourself from the ground.

“Enough!” Steve shouted, momentarily commanding everyone’s attention, including Loki’s.

“Loki, enough, you are acting like a petulant child!”

“Petulant child?” Loki stated incredulously. “I will show you a petulant child, soldier!” he huffed.

As you slowly pulled yourself to your feet, a flash of green light aimed at Steve rebounded off his shield and hit you smack in the stomach and sent you flying backwards once again, the last thing you remembered was Steve’s worried face looming over you, before you completely blacked out.

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[FINAL FANTASY x Non-Western Aesthetics]

Aerith Gainsborough + Mughal India

first love (best friend!au)

summary: yoongi meets you, seated next to him at a familiar brown piano, and he steals you away hours before your wedding day, seated next to him at a familiar brown piano


yoongi’s been in love with you since childhood and he only has the courage to tell you when you’re about to marry someone else

relationship: yoongi x reader

words: 5,621

warnings: angst, sad yoongi, unrequited love (for a while), smut (suggested)

Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

a/n: i wrote the beginning of this last year, when wings first came out and first love was my favorite song. originally, this had a completely different plot, but i felt more drawn to this one, so here’s a lil love and angst, as i know us yoongi biased hoes love~

A bang, screams, laughter… a wedding. Yoongi has never hated being somewhere more.

Well, it’s almost a wedding. He’s seated at the same table as the parents of the handsome soon-to-be groom and the beautiful soon-to-be bride, you, but he doesn’t belong there. The black haired boy is sitting amongst all of your family and friends and while they yell and dance in happiness, give out hugs to each other as if this is the very best day of their lives, he sits, a fake smile on his mouth as colorful confetti rains from the ceiling. It sticks to his hair and his face, and he feels sick.

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Imagine being Rafael’s tailor

(A/N: I hope you Anon and everyone else enjoys this! Sorry it’s short!) 

Imagine being Rafael’s tailor

“Mr. Barba?” You questioned confused, coming down the stairs of your store and seeing him in what was supposed to be your empty waiting room.

“How many times have I told you to call me Rafael?” He smirked, getting up to greet you as you walked over to him.

“Too many times,” You chuckled as you reciprocated the light hug he initiated, “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering…” He began.

“Today’s appointment is the third one you’ve missed,” You interrupted you remind.

“I was in court.” He offered sympathetically.

“You said that last time,” You reminded, “You should really stop booking appointments right after court appearances,”

“They keep running over,” He insisted.

“Shouldn’t you know the extent of your legal talents by now and now how long it’s going to take?” You quipped.

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