always loved her little smile when she understands what he's doing

#coffee #shop #fluff

Prompts: @imakeaesthetics
Authors: @queenofthyme

Sorry, I’m late,” Harry said as he hurriedly tied on his apron. “I swear it was the tube this - What? What’s wrong?”

Harry took in his boss’s expression and realised he wasn’t in trouble for being late. If anything, it was his boss that looked apologetic.

“I need you to train our new barista,” Tonks said, a weak smile not quite reaching her eyes.

“Of course,” Harry answered automatically. He had trained new staff before. It wasn’t too hard as long as the cafe wasn’t overrun with customers. And it was only a Tuesday. “Are they here yet?”

Tonks jerked an arm behind her and stepped to the side so Harry could see. Leaning on the counter by the cafe’s coffee machine was a tall, blonde-haired man with pointy features and long limbs. He was wearing the standard cafe apron over a three piece suit and a crisp white shirt secured with silver cufflinks. Despite the cups piling up next to the machine left by the register staff, he didn’t appear interested in fulfilling any orders.

“He’s…a little difficult,” Tonks explained, “But he’s my cousin and I promised his mother I’d get him a job. I’ve been trying to teach him but he’s testing my patience. Can you please take him off my hands so I can do some accounting? Please?”

Harry looked the man up and down. The phrase ‘fish out of water’ came to mind…“He doesn’t look like he needs a job.”

“He didn’t. Until last week. His parents were just jailed for fraud and embezzlement. They lost everything.”

Harry supposed he should feel sorry for the man, losing his parents, losing his money all in one go. But when the man stood there, with a snotty, disinterested expression, dressed in the most inappropriate clothes, that a month of Harry’s shifts still wouldn’t cover, it was hard to feel anything but resentment.

He sighed and nodded at Tonks. “I’l teach him,” he agreed.

Tonks actually jumped with relief - making Harry immediately regret his decision - and clapped Harry on the shoulder appreciatively before wasting no time in rushing back into the office in the cafe kitchens.

Harry took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back. He could handle a snotty rich kid. He headed over quickly, conscious of the mounting coffee orders.  

“Hey, I’m Harry,” he said on approach, holding out a hand. The man stared at it, his expression unchanging. “This is the part where you tell me your name and we shake hands,” Harry prompted.

The man’s lip curled. “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” he said, still making no move to shake.

Harry lowered his hand, already understanding why Tonks had taken the opportunity to run away when she did. “So, what do you know about coffee?” He asked.

That got a reaction. The man - Draco - pushed off the counter and stood up straight, staring down at Harry pointedly. “I’m not a moron. I know how to make coffee.”

Harry blinked back up at Draco for a moment. He hadn’t noticed from afar how impossibly grey the man’s eyes were.

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Creepypasta #1255: My Daughter Had An Imaginary Friend

Length: Medium

I’ve always found imaginary friends creepy. You hear these stories about children having imaginary friends that are the ghosts of confederate soldiers, or children who point to pictures of dead relatives and say, that’s grandpa, he plays with me every night. I hate those stories. I always hoped my own kid would not have the necessary imagination – but when we moved into the townhouse, it turned out she did. A few weeks after the move, she loudly declared the existence of her imaginary friend at the kitchen table.

“I played with the clown last night, mommy!”

“The clown?” I frowned. She didn’t have any clown toys. I had seen It at an impressionable age, and my relationship with clowns has been  strained ever since. No clown toys were allowed to enter the household.

“The clown came to my room and played with me after you went to sleep!”

Oh god, I remember thinking, why did it have to be a clown?

“Was the clown nice?” I asked carefully.

“Very nice. He gave me chocolate!”

I frowned, but a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. Of course her imaginary friend would give her chocolate. She loved chocolate.

“Sweetie, you know you’re not allowed to eat chocolate, right?” I smiled at her.

She giggled. “But it was magic chocolate! The kind you can eat and eat and eat and eat and never get a tummy ache!”

“That sounds like really good chocolate!”

“It is!”

I reasoned that the move had triggered the need for an imaginary friend. It wasn’t surprising; our old apartment was in a building with a few other kids, while our neighbours at the townhouse were all older. There were certainly kids in the area, but none would play in the adjacent yards. Instead, we had an elderly couple on one side, and a slightly younger widower on the other. Neither had grandchildren that came to visit, so the yards were empty.

So Ellie made up an imaginary friend. It wasn’t too strange, I just didn’t understand why on earth she had to go and make up a clown.

It went on for years.

I learned that the clown lived in her closet, that he was very nice, and that he would give her magical chocolate sometimes.

At one point she stopped talking about him, and I hoped it would be the end of it. I asked her about it.

“So you don’t play with the clown anymore?”

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Potter and Parkinson

I’m sure this has been done before, but I absolutely live for pansy/Harry friendship

- Pansy and Harry become friends even before Drarry happens
- it’s eighth year, and of course all the returning students are grouped in one big dorm because house unity and all that
- Harry can’t sleep. The nightmares are too much, and he doesn’t want to bother his roommate *cough*draco*cough* because he’s his ex-rival for merlin’s sake and that’s just /awkward/
- so he sits by the hearth in the common room, where everything is usually purple and gray but right now the fire is roaring and everything is bathed in a wonderful orange light
- and he doesn’t notice Parkinson sitting in the love seat to his left until she shifts and drawls out a scathing “well if it isn’t the boy who just won’t die”
- and of course Harry jumps, wand out and pointed at Pansy’s throat in half a second
- she stares at it and pushes it away in silence
- there’s the expected “nightmare?” “Yeah. You?” “Same as you, what do you expect” exchange then comfortable silence
- eventually they fall asleep where they are
- in the morning, pansy’s gone and Harry’s late for breakfast
- neither of them say anything about it, but she nevertheless slips him an extra hot coffee as she leaves the great hall
- it happens again that night
- this time, they talk about it
- “what’s it like to die?”
- he starts. He’s never told anyone about that. Ever.
- and that’s how he finds out that Pansy is a legilimens
- “why don’t you look for yourself?”
- “I’m not a barbarian, Potter”
- so he tells her. And she listens.
- she asks why he didn’t tell Weasley and Granger
- “they worry too much”
- and she gets it
- the next night, she tells him why she doesn’t boast about her legilimency
- “My Death Eater family loved to exploit it. When old Voldy came back, he forced me to use it to find out his victim’s fears and weaknesses. I was a puppet. I didn’t ask for that.”
- “None of us did.”
- they meet like this every night, when the nightmares are too much or the insomnia sets in
- she explains that sleeping was too much like passing out from Crucio
- He talks about how weird it feels since Draco started ignoring him
- they talk about Draco a lot
- “he wasn’t always that way. You should’ve seen him as a child, when his father would be away on business. I’d never met anyone more in love with life.”
- they don’t talk for the rest of that night
- he notices the slytherin Trio has mostly broken up
- Pansy, surprisingly, hangs out with Luna during the day
- Harry asks about it
- Pansy shrugs “she doesn’t dwell on the past”
- One day Hermione and Ron don’t show up for breakfast
- Pansy takes the seat next to Harry, “ she snuck into his room last night after you went to bed. Kicked Blaise out and everything.”
- They talk about life after hogwarts
- “you don’t want to be an auror anymore, then? Thought saving people gave you a hard on, Potty”
- he laughs for the first time in a long while
- “it gets boring after the first couple hundred times, I guess”
- “well, Mcgonagall obviously wants you for the DADA position”
- “maybe”
- they walk together to herbology
- Draco gawks as they enter the greenhouse
- Pansy offers a small smile
- Draco turns away
- Harry sulks
- Ron and Hermione show up a minute later, Hermione blushing and Ron raising an eyebrow at Harry, but he doesn’t say anything when Pansy whispers something in Harry’s ear that makes him grin wide
- It’s the middle of the year, and Harry and Pansy have established a sort of routine
- they meet every night, sometimes to talk, sometimes to take walks around the castle, sometimes just to sit in each other’s presence until they fall asleep
- in the morning, whoever wakes first brings up two mugs from breakfast, if it’s Pansy she brings cocoa, while Harry brings coffee
- Harry asks why Pansy always wears extra layers, or uses far more blankets than normal
- he mentions that Malfoy does it, too
- “Draco never told you?” “I never asked”
- it’s a side effect of the Cruciatus and Imperio Curses
- Harry thinks he understands
- He pats her hand, and she wonders why he’s so warm
- he shrugs. He’s always been like that.
- maybe it’s because of his mother’s love, he jokes
- she just looks at him. “Perhaps you’re right about something for once, Potty.”
- the next morning, Draco wakes early to find them snuggled together in front of the dying embers, Pansy leaning into Harry, extra blankets discarded on the floor
- he can’t help the tight, smoldering feeling in his chest as he walks to breakfast
- it’s Saturday, so there’s no class, but Blaise still leaves a mug of coffee and a cup of cocoa on the coffee table in the common room for when they wake, warming charms cast to keep the drinks steaming
- when they wake up, it’s not awkward at all. Just comfortable.
- like sharing a bed with your sibling
- they enjoy their arrangement, and Pansy takes advantage of Harry’s warmth constantly
- eighth years are allowed to leave the grounds at any point, so long as they obey curfew
- Harry and Pansy visit Hogsmeade together shortly after Christmas break
- while out for lunch, they run into Draco
- Pansy invites him along
- Harry and Draco start talking and don’t stop
- Pansy is torn; she hates being a third wheel, but she thinks she ships the two more
- she excuses herself, claiming exhaustion, and finds a quaint book shop near the edge of the village
- There, she runs into a distressed Granger
- turns out, Granger broke it off with Weasley
- Pansy is surprisingly good at comforting others, and shares her unexpected love of books with Hermione
- but while Hermione adores nonfiction, Pansy reads fiction. Thus, a friendship grows
- their day at the book store marks the start of a new relationship
- she tells Harry about her impromptu date with hermione
- “on a first name basis now, are you? I feel betrayed.”
- “oh shut it, Potty.”
- she’s blushing and they both know it
- in retaliation, she asks about Draco, and now it’s Harry’s turn to bloom red
- when Harry asks Draco out in the Great Hall a few weeks later, Pansy stands and screams from the other end of the table “IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME YOU PINING PRICK”
- Harry and Draco both turn red, scurrying out of the hall, hand in hand
- Pansy high-fives Luna, who giggles the whole time
- Harry does the same thing when Hermione asks out Pansy, but instead he’s screaming “SAY YES ALREADY PANS, YOU BLOODY WUSS”
- Ron gazes at them sadly, but Blaise distracts him with a comforting hand on his lower back and offers some treacle tart
- Pansy and Harry’s nightly meetings start happening less and less, but they’re still closer than ever
- when Draco and Harry have their first fight, Pansy knows, cuddling with Harry in front of the fireplace like they used to
- Hermione is super understanding, bless her heart
- She still draws a mustache and monocle on Harry in revenge for stealing her girlfriend, though
- she wakes Draco early to see it
- He takes pictures of his exbutkindofstill-best friend and boyfriend cuddling
- he won’t admit it, but his heart melts just a little as they wake, untangling from each other, bleary eyes and bed heads
- Harry and Draco don’t fight as much after that (but neither of them mind so much on the mornings after they do because Harry and pansy’s friendship is so precious)
- drarry and pansmione have a double wedding
- Ron and Blaise are Best Men, Luna and Ginny Maids of Honor
- Harry gets the DADA job, but always floos home at the end of the day to be with Draco and the kids
-pansy works in hogsmeade, running the bookstore where she first comforted hermione, now minister of magic
- Draco is a wonderful homemaker, who works from home co-editing the Quibbler with Luna
- even after marriage and families, Pansy and Harry have slumber parties, just the two of them in the living room while Draco and hermione take the kids out
- they cuddle and talk about everything
- in the mornings, pansy always wakes first, since Harry is usually up late grading papers
- but now, she makes two coffees for Harry and hermione, a cocoa for her, and a tea for Draco
- Harry and Pansy still spend nights by the fire, but sometimes they’re joined by their spouses, Ron and Blaise, and Ginny and Luna
- Sometimes Pansy and Draco’s skin still turn to ice
- sometimes hermione and Harry still wake up in the middle of the night for no solid reason
- but they’re surrounded by the ones they love
- the war is over
- pansy’s legilimency fades with age, and she’s happy to only have to live in her own head for once
- Harry and Draco learn to be in love with life, and with each other
- Hermione and Ron are no longer a ‘what if’
- and while Draco’s scars never completely fade away, Harry assures him they make him even more beautiful
- While Pansy will never stop being cold, Hermione is there with cocoa and and blankets and her warm embrace
- while Harry and Hermione never eat as much as they used to, too accustomed to those days in that wretched tent, running from the enemy, starving in the forest, Draco and Pansy are there to hold them and kiss them and remind them that it’s better now. It’s okay now.
- and suddenly it wasn’t just Pansy and Harry with late night talks and cuddles on the couch
- it was everyone else, too
- it was warm, and safe, and home
- and it wasn’t perfect
- but it was good.

Blackjack (I)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jungkook

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex, mafia!AU)

Warning: handcuffs, breath play

Word Count: 7,579

Summary: After losing several times to a very expensive card table, you find yourself deep in debt to the notorious mafia group, Bangtan. Taehyung is kind enough to offer you a way out. If you can succeed in taking home any guy of his choosing, your debt will be wiped clear. Then he points at Jungkook.

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Borrowed Time

The series where Harry is mute

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Y/n never went back home. Instead, she spends winter break in the confines of Harry’s apartment—wrapped up in between his bedsheets to keep warm.

The usually cold and brutal winter that always made their skin numb is now warm to them—skin always accompanied by one another’s and feeling more than ever before. And with the mix of never ending company and the feel of the music that always seems to be playing in his apartment, they couldn’t have asked for a better way to start off their relationship.

They never do anything extravagant—never do anything that could take time away from one another. It’s in their simplicity do they find a sense of comfort throughout the festive season. They feel happiest in their own little world—away from everything and everyone, just focusing on them being together without any distractions.

With being so consumed by one another, they’ve learned more about each other than ever before—spending most days watching their favorite movies and baking new recipes they found in Harry’s favorite Christmas cookbook and spending the nights cuddled up against one another as Y/n somehow finds new things to talk about.

Each day, they fall in love with each other all over again. It’s as if their hearts unravel and trap each other in—giving them no means of escape, but neither of them want to.

Whenever she spends the night at his apartment, Harry has to spend nearly an hour each morning just to fight her from getting out of bed. It’s become a routine, Harry having to pull her from the edge of the bed so that he can cradle her back in his arms while she giggles and mumbles some excuses he doesn’t have the energy to listen to.

He just really, really, really loves the feel of her first thing in the morning, especially when the brutal feel of the blistering winds finds its way to his apartment. She’s much warmer than usual and her eyes are brighter and always glistened against the sun. Her lips, too—they are always so much fuller somehow that even in his mild awareness, he finds himself kissing them before he finally lets her slip away from the comfort of the sheets.

But this morning—this morning is different.

After a Christmas night filled with passion and inexperienced intimacy, Harry really doesn’t want to let her go. He’d much rather feel her uncovered body up against his all morning—soaking each other up and holding one another until the sun sets into the night.

It just sounds so right, to keep each other near and close after giving each other their last bit of innocence. Everything they had to offer one another was taken and used to make them whole, so that’s how they should be—together and whole for as long as they possibly can.

But when Harry feels Y/n begin to stir her way out of his arms, he knows she has very different plans.

And he’s just not having it.

He whimpers in his slumbered state, pulling her back against his chest with eyes half-lidded and breathing still steady. He’s holding onto her like never before, refusing to feel her side of the bed empty. He needs her, her, her, anywhere and everywhere as long as it’s with him. And despite having every bit of her last night, he hasn’t gotten enough and he needs her more.

She giggles softly against his neck, gingerly kissing the exposed skin as her fingers run along his jaw. She can already feel him falling back asleep from her touch, a content sigh leaving his lips at their closeness.

“Love, I gotta get up. Y’know me, can’t stay in bed once I’m awake.”

He groans as he shakes his head, somehow filling up the smallest of empty spaces between them and tucking his head into her shoulder. His nose is right up against her skin and he can smell her usual scent—vanilla and lavender from her usual body wash but much more filthy than usual.

She giggles again when she feels his bottom lip poke at her shoulder, her fingers reaching to his hair as she combs through it.

“Oh, none of that, H.” She tisks, thumbing the very exaggerated pout on his lips. “I’ll be right downstairs, won’t be going anywhere far.”

He rolls his body off of her, his back hitting against the mattress with a whine. His eyes remain closed but there’s a very noticeable furrow between his brows, and Y/n begins to wonder what he’s so worried about.

She frowns down at him, observing the rise of his goosebumps from the morning cold on his bare chest. It looks empty and lifeless without her head upon it, and though his body is no stranger to her, there’s something about it that seems much more inviting and she yearns to keep it closer than ever.

And she gets it—she gets his exaggerated whining and the worry in his eyes. After everything that happened to them the night before, he can’t leave her—he can't—and that’s exactly what she’s doing to him, even if it’s only a floor away.

Almost as if to reassure him, she goes with the feel of her heart and decides to spend the next couple hours of the freezing morning right beside him.


Harry loves watching Y/n in her most natural hours.

Her chest and elbows are leaning against the surface of the kitchen counter, one hand holding a mug of coffee while the other flips the pages of her favorite poetry book. Her upper body is clad with Harry’s favorite sweatshirt—ending right at the end of her underwear—leaving her legs exposed and on full display for all of Harry to see.

Despite her hair fully knotted and having an overall disheveled look to her, Harry decides that she looks best this way—in a way nobody other than him has gotten the chance to see—as if she was made for his eyes only.

And he has never seen such a beautiful sight in his life as she looks at him with the softest and most delicate of eyes, a small smile resting on her lips at his presence. Every bit of her looks inviting—like a place of comfort Harry could forever shield himself in.

She’s become so much more than his girlfriend—so much more than someone to call his own—she’s become his muse and his home, his haven and everything in between.

“You always look at me with longing even when I’m right here with you.”

He blinks at her, watching as her cheeks flush with pink under the watch of his amused eyes, loving how easily tranced he becomes in her.

She’s never been confident in herself. Ever since she was a little girl, she used her friendliness to somehow distract people from what she truly felt on the inside. She never truly touched base with her insecurities and never wanted to, so she always found ways to push the most damaging thoughts in the back of her head.

But Harry changed everything. He made her feel beautiful and loved in every way possible, she almost doesn’t understand how he could have so much of that love in him—especially for her. From the way he holds her all throughout the night to the small kisses and gestures whenever he has the chance, she feels it everywhere and she almost feels it in herself.

His sheepish smile confirms her statement, knowing fully that there will never be a moment he doesn’t want her, no matter where she is.

He walks slowly over to her, the smile never fading from his lips and the blush creeping back to Y/n’s cheeks as she turns her body to stretch her arms out at him. It’s the smallest moments like this that make them grateful for the kind of love they share—together.

He presses his lips to hers tenderly when he feels her fingers run across his stomach, his own fingers pushing the material of his sweatshirt up towards her breasts so that he can brush against the swell of them.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, quickly returning back to her lips as they softly release a whimper from the detachment.

She tastes so good—a mix of bitter and sweet from her coffee, leaving his mouth wanting more and more with each passing second. And what was supposed to be innocent turned to lust before they knew it—their movements much more haste and impatient.

In the midst of their desperation, Harry pushes her hips further against the edge of the counter, fingers digging into her skin as his mouth parts open with hers. They both moan into one another, completely consumed by the feeling of their relentless hands and feverish kisses.

Her hands are against his stomach, rubbing along his torso when he hitches her legs around his waist, leaving Harry in control of whatever it is that’s unfolding. Her squeal turns into a moan when his hips collide with hers, the friction making her head spin and body yearn for more.

He feels her hands creep toward the waistband of his sweatpants while his hands bundle up the sweatshirt over her breasts so that they’re fully exposed to him—revealing the most delicate parts of her.

And right as his lips attach to the valley of them, the ringing of the telephone breaks them from their moment.

“H—Harry, the phone.” Y/n gasps.

But he shows no sign of stopping when his teeth sink into an already bruised hickie from the night before, leaving her with shaking fingers between his hair and withering from the soreness. And he really can’t stop, because she feels like no other and she’s so addicting in every way possible. He wants her all to himself.

The answering machine almost dissolves into pure background noise for the both of them, too caught up in the moment.

“Hi, Harry, it’s your mum.”

Only five words and Harry feels the air being knocked right out of his lungs—seizing all his movements and thoughts as Y/n is left completely confused and panting upon the kitchen counter.

"I know it’s been a while and a lot has ended quite messy, but your father does miss you and well—we all miss you, Harry. We would really love for you to come over for dinner tonight as a late Christmas celebration. You don’t have to, but we’ll have an extra seat for you. And—uh—I love you so much. I wish you the best. Please call me soon.”

It’s as if the world around him is spinning faster than ever before—his brain overwhelmed with scrambled thoughts and ears ringing from the anxiety.

There would have been nothing to prepare him for this moment. He never thought he’d ever see his father again—much less be invited back over to his house after everything that’s happened. It’s been so long, he genuinely thought it was over—he thought all of the pain and fear was over, but his biggest nightmare is coming to life and he feels sick to his stomach.

His father is why he’s like this—mute and anxious in social situations. If his dad hadn’t repeatedly torn him down for never being good enough—hadn’t made him believe nobody would ever talk to a little shy boy—he would have probably gained the confidence to speak the more he matured.

But because his father shunned him for being shy and never making any friends, Harry was terrified of what people would think of him if he ever did make friends. Because if his own father didn’t love him, how could anybody else?

Y/n notices the tears in his eyes and his shallow breathing, which she’s quick to mend when her hands reach up to his cheeks. They’re hot and flushed, but all for the wrong reasons.

She frowns, lips peppering small kisses along his face in an attempt to bring him back to her. She doesn’t know much—or really anything—about Harry’s family life; all she knows is that she has never seen a picture of them in his house or any validation that he ever truly had one.

But as she catches the glimpse of fear in his eyes and the small quivering of his lips, he knows very well that there must have been something that went wrong. And even if she doesn’t know what it is that he went through, she knows that if he decides to do this or not, she’ll be right there with him.

“You’re scared.” She whispers, thumbs rubbing against his cheeks softly. “What is it you’re afraid of, baby? Talk to me, please.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his lips pursing together as loose tears fall from his eyes.

He’s never talked about his family problems and because all of this has happened so quickly, his words get trapped in his throat. To genuinely talk about his family and come to terms with his emotions seems all too much for him, especially when it’s hard for him to speak in the first place.

Y/n clicks her tongue while shaking her head softly, wrapping her around his neck as he nests his cheek into her shoulder. His muscles instantly relax in her arms and has a sense of clarity in her comfort, but there’s still an undeniable thumping in his chest that just can’t seem to go away.

“You don’t have to talk about this, love, but maybe this will be good for you. You know, to test the waters with your family. Maybe this could help you in the long run.”

And he wants to believe her—he really, really fucking wants to believe her—but he knows he can’t. Anywhere in his father’s path is detrimental to Harry’s social anxiety and he knows it’ll only make this worse for him in the long run.

“Y/n.” Harry groans, detaching her arms from his neck so that he can stand properly. His teeth are grit and eyes are distant—looking anywhere but her own and he swallows thickly around his words. “There’s a reason I don’t talk to anybody.”

His words are cracked and desperate—like a plea for Y/n to understand that this is different, that there will never be a day he’ll be able to face his problems. There have been too many times he’s found his way back and he always walks away with a damaged heart.

Y/n watches the way his fingers fiddle around one another and how he can’t stand still, it’s like watching the battle in Harry’s head and watching him fall apart from it.

And no matter how much she loves him now—the way he is now, even without much speaking—she doesn’t want to watch him suffer for the rest of his life. He’s the most undeserving man, he deserves the world and she knows he does.

His heart is nothing but pure and damaged—in need of mending and love. It’s the best part of him, really. It’s what brought them together and she feels the need to protect it at all costs.

He doesn’t feel it, though. He doesn’t feel what his heart has to offer and doesn’t see how it makes him so strong. He only sees himself as a ruin—a lost cause with nothing left to fight for, and he doesn’t deserve it. After what he’s been through, she needs him to understand that he is so much more than he thinks he is.

Because he is—he really is—no matter what he believes.

She holds his head in her hands to distract him from his consuming thoughts. His eyes shift in her gaze as he lets out a small breath.

“I just think it’ll be best to try again. I know—I see how hard it is for you to live the way that you do and I want to be here for you through everything. Things could be different this time—things could actually end well and you might be able to push through this. Because I know you, Harry, more than anybody else right now and I know you can push through this.”

She presses her forehead against his with a sigh leaving her lips, her thumbs running along his knuckles.

“And if there is any point you feel uncomfortable or upset, we can walk right out and leave. Just know that I will be there for you no matter what, okay? Just asking for you to try.”

It’s because she sounds so sure of herself that Harry actually agrees to go to the dinner. He knows that if it were a matter of him going alone, he would never even consider it. But knowing she is going to be right by his side—holding his hand through it all—maybe he doesn’t have to be so scared.

Maybe, it’ll actually be different this time.


It’s not different.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s really not any different than he expected it to be.

Upon their arrival, Harry’s mum and sister nearly fainted from seeing him at the front door. They thought their invitation would go dismissed, like the way Harry’s ignored them for the past three years. But looking at him for the first time in what felt like forever, they were nothing short of thrilled.

And to make it even better, he brought a girl. Harry was holding her hand tightly, keeping her tucked right into his side so that he could feel her with every step he took.

Anne and Gemma swore they had never seen something so heartwarming in their life—to the point where tears sprung from their eyes and arms flinging around their bodies. Y/n didn’t even have to introduce herself properly for them to love and approve of her, anybody who gets Harry to open up—in any way possible—is enough for them.

He was calm when it was just the four of them, Harry watching Y/n hit it off with his family so effortlessly. He noticed the fondness in all their eyes and this was how he wanted it to be forever.

But once they sat down for dinner, Harry knew something was about to happen.

His father didn’t acknowledge neither him nor Y/n in the slightest. Instead, he acted as if they weren’t there and only carried conversations with the rest of his family. And Harry wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way or not—wasn’t sure if he’d rather have his father at least notice him and hate him or have his father neglect him.

Y/n was trying to make the best out of the situation and he could tell. She found her way to the conversations even if his father didn’t respond to her, and still remained her perky self while doing so. She seemed unfazed through it all, almost like she didn’t feel the overwhelming amount of tension that surrounded the room.

She does it for him, though. She knew that if she showed just how uncomfortable his father was making her—he’d never be able to survive this dinner. She had to play strong enough for his sake.

But now that dinner has passed by and all that’s left are empty plates of food and mindless mingling, Harry feels nothing short of uncomfortable and misplaced under his father’s glare. It’s as if he’s waiting for Harry to speak out in the conversation, or do much of anything to make his presence known.

Y/n can see the soft shaking of Harry’s head and can feel the sweat on his palms with each passing second—just waiting for the end of the night so that they can go home and be alone at last.

“You know, Y/n, I never thought Harry would have a girlfriend.”

It’s the first time tonight his father spoke to Y/n directly, making the conversation she was having with Gemma come to a pause as she looked over at him with confusion. There’s a small pout on her lips as she tilts her head in question, almost unsure as to what he was implying. He has no expression on his face, only a small scoff and disapproving look in his eyes.

“How so? He’s lovely, any girl would be very lucky to have him. I’m just happy it’s me who does.”

Her fingers squeeze his thigh under the tablecloth; as if to tell him that there’s nothing to worry about. If his father wants to try hard enough to get to Harry, he has to try to get through her, first.

His father grumbles, his eyes shifting away from hers. The tenseness is his body seems to lighten, though, when an almost sadistic laugh falls from his lips—finding whatever he’s thinking quite amusing and entertaining.

“Isn’t it disheartening? Doesn’t it get boring, to be with a little boy who can’t even get his mouth to open? You seem to be a very intelligent, mature lady—I can tell by the way you talk. Don’t you think it’s a man’s purpose to be with somebody like you?”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, trying to silence the sudden voices in his head and focus on the feel of Y/n’s tightening hand.

All the childhood fights, all the times Harry had crawled underneath his bed during the night to get away from it all, and all the times Harry almost had the guts to speak up for himself only to be shut down from his father are all replaying in Harry’s head.

The anxiety creeps to his bones and in his muscles, straining him of all that’s left of his strength and leaving him with nothing but a shaking body and lack of control. Every part of him that felt alive before all of this is slowly dying at the seems—ready to be ripped out on his father’s account.

In any other situation, Y/n would have kept her mouth shut if it meant getting the support and approval of Harry’s family. But this—the way he’s talking about Harry as if he’s not right next to her, disrespecting him for something beyond his control is just not okay with her.

She’d rather stand up for the man she loves and believes in instead of watching him suffer in silence—the way his mum and sister are—with fear.

“Harry may not be a man of many words, but he’s the best thing I’ve got. There is so much more to him than his voice. There is so much more to him than you will ever know because you decided to be a shit father and give up on him without giving him a chance. He holds so much more potential than you could ever see, and that’s what’s wrong here. Harry’s not the problem, him being mute is not the problem, it’s you. Because why is it that everybody else can accept him and love him for who he is besides you?!”

The aftermath of her words silences everything around them. Nobody moves, nobody dares makes a sound besides their harsh breathing, because there could be something that makes either one of them snap and nobody wants to be the one to do so.

Y/n’s hands are in fists upon the table, eyes locked with his in fury and jaw so tight she almost doesn’t even look like herself. She’s turned into an entirely different woman with just the thought of Harry getting into harm’s way.

And although Harry really wants to show her appreciation for her words, he’s too panicked that he’s going to die from not being able to fucking breathe.

The silence is overwhelming, but Y/n is not giving up on him—on Harry. He had to live through this for far too long and she’s not allowing it anymore. He deserves better than this treatment—deserves better than to be looked down upon by somebody who’s supposed to be his provider.

“He’s the best thing you’ve got, yeah?”

His father is playing with his bottom lip, eyes narrowed and eyes in the same unpleasant manner as before. His voice is softer, though, more understanding than before and they both don’t know what to expect out of the conversation.

Y/n nods without hesitation, “He is.”

He watches as Y/n looks more determined and positive as ever, not a doubt or a trace of a lie in her features.

She means it—with her whole heart—she means it and she’ll never let anybody make her go back on her word. And she doesn’t have to say it twice, because Harry knows she’s genuine when she says it.

“You must have a very pathetic life, then.”

Harry’s eyes don’t move from their trance on the table—his body doesn’t make a move under his words. This is just how it always ends, and he just don’t know why he still fucking comes back here every goddamn time.

His throat is tight and his eyes are filled with tears. His skin is full of sweat and he swears his heart is beating much faster than it should. And even though he’s experienced this all before, knowing Y/n is being belittled by his father too makes it worse.

"We’re done here.” Y/n says sternly, grabbing ahold of Harry’s hand.

Y/n could have stood up for Harry much more, but she knew that if she started an even bigger brawl than what was already unfolding, Harry wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

He’s already drained of color and crying silently within his lost mind, and she’s absolutely terrified for his health.

She’s nearly dragging him out the door, Harry occasionally tripping over his own feet as he’s being drowned with the voices and the thumping in his chest. The world around him seems to be drowning and he can’t keep up with it all.

He just can’t.

“You can’t only keep her around because she’s the only one that’ll fight your battles for you, Harry! It’s only a matter of time before she realizes that you have nothing to offer her! You can’t give her anything with the way you are. You’re worthless!”

Before he could spew any more insults in Harry’s way, Y/n shuts the door in his face.


Harry knows his father was right.

In the long run, he doesn’t have much to offer her. He can’t be the boyfriend that she deserves to have.

He can’t be the boyfriend that can remind her of how much she’s loved or cared for. He can’t be the boyfriend to sing her to sleep whenever she can’t, or be the boyfriend to say his vows at their wedding for all to hear. He can’t be the boyfriend that—God forbid something were to happen to her—can ask for somebody to help her, or be the boyfriend to sway her family’s heart.

He can’t be anything to her besides somebody that she can sleep with at night and wake up to in the morning. Because that’s all it will be, and she’ll get so tired of being the one to be the only one talking to the other.

He’s nothing in her life, and that’s exactly why he can’t look at her anymore.

“Can you please just say something to me, Harry? I need to know why you’re upset with me or else we can never work through this.”

But how can they work through this when he can’t talk to her the way she wants him to?

Instead of answering right away, Harry presses on the gas pedal even harder than before. In the mix of all his emotions—anger, frustration, sad, and absolutely terrified—the only proper thought that can retain in Harry’s mind is dropping Y/n back to her apartment so that she doesn’t have to keep torturing herself with him.

The longer he feels her presence next to him, the more he realizes that he can’t love her the way she deserves to be loved—even if he really, really, really does love her with every ounce of his being.

“It was only—“ He swallows thickly, “It was only a matter of time before this was going to happen, Y/n.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she turns her head over to Harry, who has his lips pursed in a straight line while his eyes remain on the road.

There’s something different in him, now—something unreadable in his expressions and it’s something she’s never seen before. He seems broken somehow, like a man who’s been damaged one too many times that he’s become numb—emotionless with nothing left to feel.

“Before what was going to happen, Harry?”

She has an idea about what his words meant, but she doesn’t want to believe it. Not coming from him—not coming from the man who’s shown her nothing but how much love he has for her. There’s no way he could be doing this to her. He can’t do this to her.

“We were never going to last, Y/n. This was over long ago, we’re just on borrowed time.”

Borrowed time.

The sound of it leaves an unusually disturbing churn in Y/n’s stomach and a foul taste in her mouth. She feels as though Harry is taking his own hand and digging into Y/n’s chest, just so that he can grab ahold of Y/n’s heart and rip it to shreds himself.

Her hand subconsciously grabs onto the handle of the car door, eyes glistening with tears and lungs not daring to breathe. The air—instead of it being filled with their love—is now thicker and colder than ever.

She’s never been so confused—so lead on and so scared as to what is happening to them. They were supposed to make this last, they were supposed to make each other happy for the rest of their lives. He promised her he would, too—promised her nothing but love and trust in him.

But what is happening to them?

“How long have you thought that?”

She was tentative to ask, but she just has to know. She has to know if she’s done everything she’s done for nothing or if it actually held some sort of purpose at the time.

She’s terrified beyond words to find out the answer.

“Before or after you decided to sleep with me?”

Harry doesn’t want to make it seem like he never wanted this—never wanted her. He doesn’t want to make her think that he went through all that he did with her just to expect them to break up so soon. Because he didn’t, he never did. He would have never let her give him her virginity if he knew all of this was going to happen.

He loves her too much to do that to her, but also loves her enough to set her free.

So he decides to not answer her because not saying anything at all is easier for him than saying something he doesn’t mean. And he knows he will if it means letting her go and letting her move onto bigger and better things.

And it’s in his silence and twitch of his eyes does she find his answer.

“So you didn’t mean what you said last night. That we fit perfectly—that it’s like we’re meant to be? Or were they just words to you?”

A sob rips from inside of her when he still gives her nothing. She has never felt so hurt before—has never felt so betrayed. And suddenly, her skin feels dirty—sickened by what he’s done to her and how she could have been so stupid as to let it happen.

She feels it now, too. She feels the way his hands touched her that night, the way his lips kissed her that night, the way his hips rutted against hers and she feels so fucking filthy—used and used and used just for his own personal gain.

“Stop the car.”

It’s a weak demand, but Harry is pained to hear it. He has to hold himself back from comforting her and saying how terribly sorry he is for lying to her the way he is. But it’s just easier this way.

“I said stop the fucking car, Harry!”

Her yelling makes him flinch, and without hesitation makes him pull over to the side of the road. And the second he does so, he knows he shouldn’t have because he’d never be able to live with himself if he let Y/n walk in the cold alone, especially at night.

And right as he’s about to turn back, the sound of her hysteria makes his stop everything he’s doing. Her sobs are relentless in her hands and the thickest of tears fall from Harry’s eyes when he looks at the damage he’s done.

She looks helpless and utterly destroyed—he would have never thought of doing this to her if he’d known this is what would come out of it.

His heart is breaking at the sight of her like this.

As if on instinct, Harry reaches his hand over to her shoulder in an attempt to keep her calm. And even when they’re so close, they have never felt more emotionally distant than they do right now.

“No! Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me again!”

She isn’t sure if she means it or not, but the devastating look Harry gives her at her words proves that he knows she did.

The second his touch leaves hers, he feels them falling apart.

It really is over now.

She’s never felt more pathetic and humiliated in her life. Everything she thought was so real ended up being one of the biggest lies she’s ever lived. He had her fooled for months now and she had not a single clue—but she guesses that’s what happens when she falls in love too quickly.

She feels easy.

She swallows her cries as she opens the car door, not knowing where the hell she is or where the hell she’s going, but knowing that no matter where she ends up, it’ll be much better than being with him. 

“I hate you. I never want to see you again, not after this. Not after all that you’ve done to me.”

Harry’s eyes widen at her words, mouth falling open and a gasp falling from his lips. The reality of her words hits him with so much force that he genuinely feels every last bit of him fall apart.

And it’s when she walks away from him—from his life—that he breaks.

He chokes out a sob as his fingers grip the steering wheel, eyes as wide as ever and mouth not daring to shut.

Everything hurts. Every bone in his body feels like it’s breaking and every muscle feels like they’re tearing apart. It hurts so fucking much and Harry can’t stop crying, throwing his head back against the car seat as his hand hits the steering wheel in the midst of his hysteria.

She hates him.

But it’s better this way.

andallwaswell-ish  asked:

Seamus and Harry are a couple. Draco really doesn't like that. (fanon) Pansy is just the person he needs

“Quick, Pansy, kiss me.”

Pansy stares at Draco, her face screwed up at the absurd suggestion. There are so many things wrong with that statement. First, ew, she is not nearly drunk enough. Second, she doesn’t like to be rushed. And third, most importantly, nobody tells Pansy what to do.

“I will do no such thing. Why would you – “ her eyes scan the Gryffindor common room, following Draco’s gaze, and fall on Harry Potter sitting on Seamus Finnigan’s lap – “Oh, I see now.” She sighs loudly, accepting her duty as best friend, but also making sure Draco knows just how unappealing she finds the idea. “Fine.”

The kiss is brief and methodical and, all in all, incredibly disagreeable. Pansy only hopes that Potter glances their way to see it so it isn’t all in vain. As soon as her mouth is her own again, Pansy downs the rest of her firewhiskey.  “Never, ever, make me do that to your chapped lips again.”

“Sorry,” Draco says, looking past Pansy – she’ll forgive his inattentiveness this once, “It’s just –

“You needed to make Potter jealous?”

“Yes and –“ Draco pauses, and his eyes finally land on Pansy. About time. “How did you know it was Potter?

Pansy snorts. Draco really is an idiot sometimes. “Well you hardly have a crush on Finnigan do you? And Blaise told me sometimes you say his name while – “

“I’ll have a word with Blaise later,” Draco says quickly, a small blush appearing on his face – that he would certainly deny if Pansy were to mention. “Now hold my hand, make it look like we’re an established couple. I don’t want Potter thinking I’m easy.  If you put your arm – “

Draco’s voice falters, his gaze back on Potter. Pansy turns to witness Potter and Finnigan locking lips in a rather exaggerated fashion. It’s not romantic or erotic. It’s just a kiss. The two must have zero chemistry, much like Pansy and Draco.

“Although, clearly, Potter is very easy.” Draco puts on his cold, taunting voice but his own jealously is obvious.

Pansy rolls her eyes. Sometimes dealing with Draco is like dealing with a small child. She moves beside him and wraps an arm around his waist so they can stare at Potter and his current boy toy together. The two have stopped kissing and are now drawing patterns on each other’s hands. Gryffindors, honestly. “Would you look at that, Draco dear? They’re holding hands. They must be an established couple as well.”

“Do you really think so? Finnigan doesn’t seem like Potter’s type at all. And I’ve never seen them alone together before. I would have noticed it if – “

“How about we go over and find out?” Pansy shoves Draco hard and is pleased when he stumbles forward. She enjoys catching him off guard.

“Wait – Pansy, no.” Draco tries to protest but it’s too late. Potter has spotted them. He extracts himself from Finnigan and stands up to greet them, a hand running through his hair. Pansy has to hold back a smirk – she knows Draco loves when Potter does that. Not that he’s ever said anything. He doesn’t have to.

“Malfoy. Parkinson,” Potter says without even glancing at Pansy. Typical. And predictable.

Finnigan stands up beside Potter. Draco – what a surprise! – ignores this. “Potter.”

“Finnigan,” Pansy adds, only to annoy Draco. He gives her a reproachful side eye before returning his gaze to Potter. She suspects it’s the last time he’ll glance her way tonight.

They all stand there in silence. Potter staring intently at Draco. Draco staring intently at Potter. And Finnigan sharing a knowing look with Pansy. At least he’s not as stupid as he looks then.

Finally, Potter speaks up. “I didn’t know if you’d come tonight.”

“I never miss a party…even if it is hosted by Gryffindors.”

It’s not true. Draco has missed several parties over the years. But at this stage, Pansy doesn’t think Potter or Draco would even notice if she spoke so she keeps her mouth shut.

“Might be time for a Slytherin party next,” Potter says.

Draco is clearly holding back a smile. Pansy bets he is creaming his bloody pants at getting to have an actual conversation with Potter. “We get a little wild in the dungeons.” They don’t. “Are you sure you could handle it, Potter?

“I think I could rise to the challenge.”

“Subtle,” Pansy whispers to Finnigan. Honestly, Potter’s clearly got it as bad as Draco. It’s embarrassing to watch this train wreck unfold.

“So, Finnigan, that’s new.” Draco doesn’t even acknowledge that the person in question is still by Potter’s side. Finnigan shoots Pansy an amused look at being blatantly ignored. Things are clearly not serious with Potter.

“Very. And Parkinson?”

“I’m right here you know?” Pansy interjects, unable to hold back. But it makes no difference anyway. Only Finnigan hears her.

“It’s been a while,” Draco lies. Pansy wants to smack him around the head. Sure, she is happy to help make Potter jealous but there’s no need to exaggerate.

“Really? I always thought you were just friends?”

“Yes, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”’

“Like how he calls out your name every night in bed,” Pansy mutters underneath her breath. Finnigan, at least, catches and appreciates the jab if no one else does.

“Of course. Sorry Malfoy, I didn’t mean to question you. I’m just having a hard time grasping you and Parkinson together. I thought you were…you know.” Potter trails off, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Pansy holds back a groan. It’s like listening to children with these two.

“Gay? Like you?”

“Actually, I’m bisexual,” Potter corrects. “But yeah.”

“Finnigan doesn’t seem like your type.”

Finnigan flips a half-hearted bird at Draco. Not that he notices.

“And Parkinson doesn’t seem like yours.”

“Because I’m out of his league,” Pansy points out, flipping her own violent bird at Potter. She doesn’t know why she’s even bothering standing here anymore.

Draco takes a step forward. “So, what’s my type then, Potter?”

Potter mimics Draco’s action so that they’re almost chest to chest – Really? “What’s mine?”

“You need someone who doesn’t hero worship you, someone who will hold you accountable for all your actions, someone who isn’t afraid of your temper. You need someone who challenges you.”

Pansy shares a confused look with Finnigan – did they rehearse this or something? Draco’s not usually this smooth with his words, especially with Potter in such close proximity.

“And you need someone who understands your vulnerability but doesn’t use it against you, someone who treats you gently, someone whose affection is unwavering. You need someone who forgives you.”

They must have rehearsed this. Pansy has never heard Potter say anything remotely intelligent before. And she hasn’t known him to be particularly observant either.

“And I suppose you could never forgive me after all that I’ve done?” Draco hits back, still just as smooth. This is getting ridiculous.

“I already have,” Potter responds immediately as if reading a line from a script. From a terrible cheesy muggle romance movie that Pansy would never be caught dead watching. Yet here she is witnessing this sappy display.

“What about Finnigan?”

“I was using him to make you jealous,” Potter admits. Pansy looks to Finnigan for confirmation – he winks. “Did it work?”

Despite using the exact same trick himself, Pansy can see Draco is outraged at being manipulated. “Fuck you, Potter.”

“You wish.”

And then they’re kissing. Enthusiastically. Way too close to Pansy’s face. She can see every stray strand of saliva, hear every lubricated slide of their mouths. It’s revolting. And worse still, they’ve become the centre of the attention at the party, eyes drawn to Draco and Potter’s embrace with Pansy and Finnigan standing by awkwardly, looking like dejected fools.

Pansy could spoil it by pinching the hairs on the back of Draco’s neck in vengeance for being ignored. Luckily, she’s feeling particularly generous tonight, and she’d never admit it, but seeing Draco with Potter is sweet. In a disgusting, horrible, sappy way of course. But still, sweet. Now she just has to focus on her own happy ending. She spies Hermione Granger’s amongst the watchful eyes around them and takes her moment:

“Quick, Finnigan, kiss me.”

Carousel | 07

Playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

Character: Min Yoongi x reader (oc)

Genre/words: Arranged Marriage! AU, Smut, Angst / 16,742 words

Summary: He is the successor of his family’s business empire, and you are the female heir of yours. After the trouble his older brother had created in the past, he now must face certain requirements needed for the sake of the family’s future and to save his rights of inheritance, and you become his only way out. Everything might seem so simple, just the way they are supposed to. But everything isn’t always what it seems, is it?

Warning: Mentions of death, major character death, smut/mature scene


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Harder (Smut)

MASTERLIST

A/N: This took me so long to finish. Here’s a mix between some jerking off and some passionate sex. I’d love to hear what you think. 

Word count: 3,295

After Karen and I picked up Shawn at the airport, we went straight back to their house to spend the night. Though Shawn would have rather gone home, he’d finally given in after a couple of hours pouting childishly in the car from the airport and back to Pickering. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand he wanted to spend his first night back in his own apartment, but his cousin were graduating tomorrow and driving all the way back and forth two days in a row was just stupid when Karen and Manny had left Shawn’s old room untouched since he moved. 

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nefarious ❖ chanyeol

anon requested: Heyo could I request some step brother chanyeol smut where they don’t get along and are constantly teasing each other (in a sexy way?). One day chanyeol is going through the girls Phone and finds her daddy kink bdsm Tumblr and decides to punish her ;) in turn some kinky sex with spanking and bondage. (Lol sorry this is so detailed chanyeol has been fucking me up lately)


(gif not mine, credits to the owner)

7456 words | smut, daddy kink, stepbrother-stepsister relationship, light bondage (choking, thigh riding, spanking) | velvet

✎ Nefarious: wicked, villanous, despicable or simply Park Chanyeol.


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mum

Sirius Black had always traveled to King’s Cross with incredible joy in his heart knowing that he wouldn’t have to return to Grimmauld Place, 12 for several months and that he wouldn’t see his family for a very long time. This was the first time Sirius had trouble getting out of his bed on 1st of September. He didn’t know how to explain it but it felt like a hippogriff was sitting on his chest making it hard to breathe.

“Padfoot,” sighed James. “If you make me miss the train, I will steal all of Remus’ chocolate and blame it on you and he will believe me.”

“Idunwanowunintmmawf,” said Sirius into his pillow. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I don’t want to run into my mother,” he replied sitting up realising he didn’t have the strength to deal with James Potter at the moment. 

“We will move quickly and we won’t see even a string of her hair,” smiled James. “That’s a promise, Pads.”

“But she will see us Prongs,” mumbled Sirius looking like a lost puppy. “That bitch has her ways, she always finds me and Regulus in the crowd.”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous and get out of the bed” ordered James in return as he attempted carrying his trunk down the stairs for a second. “MUUUUUM can I locomotor my trunk dooooownn?”

“NO,” said Euphemia sternly from downstairs. “You’ll carry it down James and so will Sirius.”

“But muuuum-”

“James, dear, you are sixteen years old,” explained his mum like she was talking to a small child to make sure he doesn’t set the house on fire. “Stop acting like you are four or that girl you like so much won’t even look your way let alone like you. Independent women like grown men, not needy children.”

Euphemia Potter had a way with her son, she knew where all of his buttons were and how to push them just right because James Potter and his trunk were downstairs the Muggle way in a minute after the pep talk she had given. 

The breakfast was calmer than usual with Fleamont being at work and Sirius acting like he is half dead. When they were completely ready to floo themselves to the train station, Euphemia put her hand softly on Sirius’ shoulder, a kind of touch he wasn’t still used to after almost two months.

“Sirius,” began Euphemia. “What’s wrong? You know you can talk to me.”

“I just really don’t want to run into my mother,” confessed Sirius. “I’m scared of what she might do to you.”

James shook his head in disbelief, he found it hard to understand the irrational fear Sirius had. He knew Walburga was one disturbed woman but he also knew his mother shouldn’t be underestimated.

“Walburga should be scared of running into me,” said Euphemia half jokingly but James knew what would happen if they were to run into that woman. “I can handle him dear.”

Sirius nodded as convincingly as he could before he grabbed floo powder from the porcelain bowl standing next to the marble fireplace.

“King’s Cross,” he said clearly and he was gone with the green flames in seconds.

It didn’t take long for James and his mum to come with the flames. They hurried towards the Platform 9 ¾ with their trolleys and James ran face first into the wall just to disappear into thin air and then Euphemia and Sirius ran to the other side of the wall as well. 

Hogwarts Express was standing with all it’s crimson glory waiting for the students to get in to take them to Hogwarts. The three of them walked hastily to where the Marauders’ compartment was. They stood in front of the door to say their goodbyes.

“Be good,” said Euphemia. “I don’t want any letters from Minerva this year James.”

“Mum, you know I can’t promise anything.”

“Where did I go wrong while raising you?” she asked curiously. “Don’t answer that.”

“Sirius, write to me whenever you feel like it,” she reminded. “I’ll be expecting you home for Christmas, alright?”

“Yes, mum,” said Sirius and choked on his words almost instantly as a warm smile formed on Euphemia’s lips and James’ eyes lit up like they were fairy lights.

“Tsk tsk, Sirius,” came Walburga’s cold voice behind them. “We shouldn’t call blood traitors who didn’t give birth to us ‘mum’.”

It seemed like Sirius had shrunk in size as Euphemia stepped in front of him protectively.

“Tsk tsk Walburga,” she repeated. “We shouldn’t eavesdrop on conversations that aren’t ours and give opinions that no one asked for. He can call me ‘mum’ whenever he wants to, seeing that his actual mother is not available at the moment.”

Walburga made an attempt to grab Sirius by the wrist but Euphemia was agile for her age and she was holding onto Sirius’ wrist like he would die if she let go.

“You won’t touch my son and I’m not talking about James.”

“I suggest you stay out of this Euphemia, this is none of your business.”

“Oh, you made it my business when this boy showed up in my living room, barely breathing,” shot back Euphemia with all the rage that had been building up in her. Sirius was hiding behind her, careful not to catch Walburga’s piercing eyes.

“You are exaggerating,” she replied. “Nothing wrong with a little tough love.”

“I know an Unforgivable Curse when I see one Walburga,” she hissed just loud enough for people around them to hear, Walburga was turning purple with anger. “If I could, I would take Regulus from you, too, before he ends up dead from your tough love.”

“How dare you speak to me like that?”

“The same way you dare torture your children Walburga,” she said without blinking. “Now let go of my wrist and stay away from my sons.”

Sirius was trembling behind Euphemia who was standing like she was the queen of the universe, she didn’t move until Walburga Black turned around and left. 

“I told you I could handle her,” she said with a reassuring smile and caressed Sirius’ cheek softly. Sirius noticed the marks on Euphemia’s wrist then, burn marks like the long boney fingers of his mother. “As long as you got me, she can never come close to you and know that there’s nothing wrong with you calling me mum. Anyone would be proud to have you as a son and I am, too.”

“I- I can heal that if y-you want m-mum,” said Sirius, his voice shaking with the weight he was feeling on his shoulders. “I’ve- I’ve gotten pretty g-good with h-healing charms.”

“No Sirius, I can fix it. You forget you are not allowed to practice magic outside of Hogwarts,” she reminded and laughed a little. “It’s funny that a woman of her age is unable to control her magic like a toddler.”

Sirius’ eyes were still fixed on Euphemia’s thin wrist, his eyes filling up with the anger and sadness he was feeling. He lifted his eyes just a little to give a guilty look to James and saw his best friend smiling warmly down at him, he didn’t hide his pity but he didn’t have to. James always found it rather unlucky that Sirius ended up in such a messy family and never lied about how he felt about that situation, his pity was because he cared.

“Mum’s a big girl mate,” he said like he knew Sirius was about to spiral down and he needed someone to say something, anything. “She can take care of herself.”

“He is right, love,” nodded Euphemia. “Now, off you go, we don’t want you to miss the train because of something as unimportant and miserable as Walburga.”

“Just call her a bitch, mum.”

“James Fleamont Potter,” began Euphemia as she jokingly flicked her son’s arm. “You kiss me with that mouth and you will stop saying that word, even though some people deserve it, or so help me Merlin I’ll ground you until the end of time.”

“Okay, okay,” surrendered James. “I’ll just call her a goblin.”

“That’s my boy,” she replied and the spark came back to Sirius’ grey eyes. Euphemia hugged both of them and gave them loud kisses before she pushed them towards the train. “Don’t forget to write to me when you get there.”

“Sure, mum,” said Sirius with a grin before he was dragged away by an over eager James.

married part 6- h.s imagine

you can read the previous part here

Harry smiled as he looked down at his mom on her wedding day as they were swaying back and forth on the dance floor. Anne smiled at her son but couldn’t help but notice that Harry’s eyes would glance over to his beautiful best friend sitting down at a table. She noticed whenever they caught each other’s gaze, they would blush and look away. “Harry” Anne spoke up, interrupting Harry’s staring. “Yes, mum?” Harry asked, his eyebrows quirking up. Anne smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll marry that girl someday.” Harry looked back over towards you. You had your hand placed over your mouth as you laughed at something his little cousin told you. Harry smiled and looked down before he looked into his mother’s eyes. “I promise.”

Growing up, you always thought having the “perfect ending” and “finding the one” was a total cliche. Whenever your friends described kissing their significant other, they would always describe the feeling of being on top of the world. You never believed that you would find someone who would be able to give you that feeling. You never believed that someone’s lips would be able to give you that much reassurance.

Until Harry kissed you.

As Harry’s lips met yours, you finally knew what everyone was talking about. Kissing Harry made you feel like you could take on the world. This kiss alone made you feel like all your worries and all your stress suddenly vanished into thin air. Kissing Harry felt right.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around Harry’s neck as you kissed him back. You could feel Harry’s lips quirking into a smile as he kissed you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to pull you closer as if he couldn’t bare to have you and further away from him.

When Harry kissed you, his best friend, he felt sparks. His lips felt like they were on fire. Never has he ever felt this way whenever he kissed Kimberly. It was in this kiss Harry knew that you were it for him. It was in this kiss did he realize just how in love with you he was.

What felt like an eternity, you finally pulled away. Both you and Harry were panting from the kiss. With closed eyes, Harry smiled as he rested his forehead against yours. A moment of silence passed between the two of you before Harry finally spoke up, “I can’t believe I waited so long to do that.”

You stepped out of Harry’s hold, wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeing so ashamed. You shook your head as you whispered, “That was wrong, Harry.” As much as you loved the kiss and no matter how magical it felt, you were with Lucas and until the divorce was final, Harry was still married. You could literally see all the color from Harry’s face drain. You could see nothing but horror on his face as he backed into the wall behind him. You watched as his eyes took you in. It was like he was trying to understand the million thoughts going through your mind. You avoided eye contact with him as you stared at the ground, your eyes welling up with tears once again.

Suddenly Harry whispered, “But I love you, Y/N.”

You placed your hand over your mouth as you tried to choke back a sob that was trying to rip its way out of your body.

Harry slowly stepped closer to you. “It’s been a year since you told me you loved me, Y/N. Please, I need to hear you say it again. Please.”

When Harry was met with silence, he wiped his eyes. He looked down at his fidgeting fingers. “Do you still love me, Y/N?”

You looked up at Harry. As much as you wanted to scream out how much of an idiot he was and that of course you still loved him, you couldn’t. As much as you wanted to tell him that you don’t think you’ll ever stop loving him, you didn’t. Instead you said something you instantly regretted, “I fell in love with Lucas.”

You watched as Harry gasp for air. You watched as he placed his hand over where his heart was as if you actually broke it in pieces. You sniffed before you whispered, “I’m sorry, H.” Quickly, you walked back into the restaurant.

Harry placed his head in his hands as he dropped down to the floor. He brought his knees up to his chest as he cried the hardest he’s ever cried. Not giving a flying fuck who saw. Harry felt broken. Not only did he miss the opportunity to be with the love of his life, he lost his best friend.


You stared down at your lap as you sat in a silent uber with Lucas. Lucas was staring out of the window, not daring to say a word. He didn’t have to see Harry but he knew he was there tonight. He also knew that he was the reason why you had tear stained cheeks. Lucas glanced at you before he sighed. He took your hand in his. “Y/N? Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?”

You looked down at Lucas’s hand holding yours. You couldn’t help but think about how you felt absolutely nothing for this sweet man in front of you. You tried so hard to think about spending a future with Lucas. You thought Lucas was your chance of finally being happy. But after seeing Harry? After kissing Harry? You knew what you had to. You looked up at Lucas’s eyes filled with nothing but concern. You sighed before you whispered, “I can’t be with you anymore, Lucas.”

Lucas let go of your hand. Staring at his lap, he let out an, “Oh.” You shook your head as you inched closer to him. You placed your hand on his knee. “I can’t be the girl you need, Lucas. You’re so sweet and so caring. I don’t deserve you.”

Lucas nodded as he placed his hand on top of yours. “It’s okay, Y/N. I understand.” You leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Suddenly the car pulled in front of your apartment building. You thanked the uber driver and said a goodbye to Lucas before you got out of the car. You started to walk inside until Lucas called out your name. He had the window rolled down as he said, “I hope you get your happy ending with him one day, Y/N.”

You smiled. This boy really was something special. You knew he would make someone feel so happy one day. “I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.” You said before you made your way inside.


You let out a yawn as you stepped off the elevator, a tray of coffee in your hand. Whenever you closed your eyes, all you saw was Harry’s crying face. Guilt consumed your body as you thought about the lie you told Harry. You knew there was no way that you could fix it. You knew this was officially the end of an era. You sighed, hoping the makeup artist Emma hired for today will be able to conceal a broken heart. You knocked on Emma’s door before Olivia, another bridesmaid, opened the door for you. You gave her a small smile and hug before you walked into the hotel room.

Emma and Niall decided to have their wedding at one of the most beautiful hotels London had to offer, Hotel ZaZa. They both rented a room dedicated to the groomsmen to get ready and a room for the bridesmaids to get ready.

Emma’s eyes lit up as soon as she saw you. She walked over to you and gave you a hug before she grabbed the coffee tray out of your hands. “Y/N! Just in time, it’s your turn to get your makeup done.” You nodded as you sat in front of the makeup artist. The other two bridesmaids were sitting on the other side of the room getting their hair done. Emma sat down on the bed across from you. She noticed how quiet you were as the makeup artist was having at it on your face. “I saw you and Harry out on the patio last night.” Emma whispered softly. She saw the moment you pulled away from Harry after the kiss. She saw how Harry crumbled to the floor as you fled the scene. You glanced at Emma before you looked away.

“Do you want to talk about it softly?” Emma asked. You shook your head as the makeup artist was grabbing a brush. “No. It’s your wedding day. We should be focusing on you right now.” You smiled softly at Emma. “Are you ready to become Mrs. Horan?”


You smiled your best smile as you walked down the aisle. You looked straight ahead to see a very nervous Niall smiling at you. As you walked to where the other bridesmaids were standing, you mouthed to him, “You got this.”

Suddenly an instrumental version of “A Thousand Years” started to play, signaling the bride was coming. You smiled as you saw Emma walking down with her father. You remember when Emma told you that she wanted to walk down to this song, you thought it was silly. You thought it was a total cliche. But after seeing Emma smiling down at her husband to be with tears on both their faces, you knew this song was perfect for him. You truly knew they would love each other for thousands of years.

Finally the time came for Niall and Emma to say their vows to each other. You noticed Niall’s trembling fingers as he reached inside his suit pocket to grab his paper. He took a deep breath before he looked into Emma’s eyes.

“Emma, when I met you a year ago, I knew you were going to be the girl I married. After our second date, I promised myself that I would never hurt you. I promised that I will always be the one to make you laugh whenever you’re upset, to be the one that holds your hand when you need someone to talk to, and to be the one that you can call your best friend. The more that I’m with you, the more I forget the feeling of being lonely.”

As Harry was listening to Niall’s vows, he couldn’t help but look at you. God, he thought. You looked absolutely gorgeous. How was it that everyone’s eyes were on the bride but he couldn’t take his eyes off you? You were stunning. Harry’s eyes started to well with tears as he stared at his best friend. He couldn’t help but think that the next wedding you were going to be at would be your own with Lucas.

Emma cleared her throat before she promised her vows to Niall, “Niall Horan, I have never met someone that makes me laugh as much as you do. Never have I ever found someone that I can truly be myself with. You make me forget all of my troubles in the world and I could never thank you enough for that. I promise to always choose you. Whenever things get hard and whenever you need someone to talk to, I will be your best friend. I will be your wife.”

You wiped away a tear as you looked out into the guests. Immediately you were able to find Harry’s green eyes. You noticed how Harry was tearing up as he was staring back at you. You couldn’t help but think these were the kind of vows you always pictured yourself saying to Harry. You couldn’t get Harry off your mind.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Niall, you may kiss your bride.”


Emma smiled gratefully at you as she washed her hands. “Thank you so much, Y/N. I knew going to the restroom was going to be hard but I didn’t think it was going to be that hard.” You let out a chuckle as you were washing your own hands. Emma was practically begging you to help her pee while she was in her dress during dinner. How could you say no to the bride?

“No problem at all, love.” You replied as you dried your hands. You were about to walk out the restroom when you noticed Emma wasn’t following. You closed the door and turned around to see Emma staring off into space.

“Em? You ready?” You asked. Emma looked back at you and smiled. She pulled you into a hug. Confused, you returned the hug. Emma pulled away from the hug and pulled you over to the lounge area of the restroom. She sat on one of the couches and you followed after her. Emma grabbed your hand in hers. “Y/N. Even though I’ve known you for less than a year, I can happily say you’re one of my best friends.”

You smiled, “You’re my best friend too, Em.” Emma smiled before she continued, “In my relationship with Niall, you’ve been nothing but supportive. You’ve supported our love for each other from the start and I will always remain grateful. That’s why, as your best friend, I want nothing but you to be happy. And I know that being happy means being with Harry.”

You were about to object but Emma shook her head no. “When I saw you guys last night, it was obvious how much you guys loved each other. Anyone could clearly see that. When I saw you guys kiss, I was rooting for the two of you. I really was. Harry, he’s a good guy. And you deserve nothing but that. It broke my heart when I saw you run away. And when I saw how devastated Harry was? I thought that was it. I had to get you guys to understand that you guys had to come together, not run away. I know he’s hurt you. But you’ve hurt him too. Talk to him, make things right, allow yourself to be happy.”

By the end of Emma’s speech, you had her pulled into a tight hug. Emma smiled as she hugged you back. You pulled back from the hug as you smiled at Emma. “Thank you for that.”


Harry was sitting down at his assigned table, an untouched plate of food in front of him. He was watching Emma and her dad sharing their father-daughter dance until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head to find you standing behind him.

“H? Can we talk?”


thank you guys so much for reading! i’ve been getting nothing but sweet and kind messages about this series and when the next part was going to be posted. i hope i did everyones justice! lol i love hearing from you guys! definitely let me know what you guys thought/ want to see happen next! all the love, t. 

you can find the rest of my writing here

you can find part 7 here

fun fact: for my mom’s wedding two years ago, she walked down to a thousand years lol 

By Heart [ II ]

Genre [Rating] : Angst / Some Fluff

Length: 7.7k

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Summary: Getting over him was the most impossible thing in the world because part of you couldn’t believe it was really over.

Part One: Part Three: x Part Four: x

Originally posted by kyungsuhos

The rain dripped across the glass windshield of the baby blue car parked in the middle of the street. It created tiny puddles on the dark concrete, pools of the liquid spilling along the curb, surging towards your feet. The headlights were illuminating the space in front of the car, the raindrops speeding by in the lit beams. Kyungsoo’s eyes were hard as he rolled down the window of the car, hair covered by a baseball cap as he stared off into the distance around you, tongue poking out to lick his lips once as he exhaled. His hand extended from the window, the water spotting his palms and turning the skin slick as his eyes floated shut, chest deflating.

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dissonance [4]

summary: James apologizes. || hades!bucky x persephone!reader

warnings: none? 

note: Feedback is always appreciated! I hope you guys like this!

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Imagine being in a secret relationship with Jensen, who is older than you, and your father, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, walking in on the two of you doing it.

“Jens” you planned to say in a warning way but it only came out as a moan when the older man sucked on your neck “Jensen please.” you whined a little and you felt him grin as he bit down on your neck, making you throw your head back to actually give him more access.

“I’m right onto it, sweetheart.” he said with a small growl when you shifted, the fact that your legs were wrapped around his waist and your hips pressed flush to his already, didn’t help at all.

“N-no” it certainly was as weak as it could be with his arms and lips all over you “I don’t mean that Winchester.” you said with a small groan and he sighed heavily.

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Slipped my mind

Originally posted by stylesinthewild

Anonymous asked: #37??? (’Welcome to fatherhood’)

Anonymous asked: Please could you do 99 and make it angsty if possible? Thank you! X (How could you forget your son’s birthday?)

Anonymous asked: “Welcome back. Now fucking help me.” !!

I combined all three of these and it turned into a full blown one shot.

Also special shoutout to @harryimaginedstories. She knows. 

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Prompt: A combination of this “I want Tyrion and Sansa meeting again and Tyrion appreciating and actually listening to what Sansa has to say. And can you please put in jealous Jon there too? 😊” from @daredevil-karen-and-matt and “All I want is Ghost by Sansa’s side when J/D show up at WF and him growling at D.” from @ladyeliamm & “Definitely Ghost on Sansa’s side at all times especially when Jon returns.” from @qinaliel  


“My Lady Sansa, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Tyrion says, striding forward to take her hand. Ghost lets out a low growl under his breath but remains unperturbed by the man. After many moons spent with the white wolf, she understands him nearly as well as she once understood her darling Lady. It is a warning, a territorial threat against harming his pack. Sansa is pleased to be apart of that pack, to even have a pack again. 

“My lord,” she smiles. “It is my pleasure. I’m sorry we are not meeting under happier circumstances.” The clanking of metal upon metal as the winterly winds whip around them emphasises her point. Winter is here and the Army of the Dead is marching past the Wall. Times are as dire as they have ever been, yet Sansa finds peace settling in her soul rather than fear. If she is to die in this war, at least she will die with her pack. 

“Very right, my lady,” Lord Tyrion says with a nod. He falls quiet as he takes in the busy courtyard, the men and women who rush back and forth with carts of grain, or the ones fitting boiled leather into the armour as she had requested. It is a sight to behold. The once quiet of Winterfell now lost to the chaos of impending war. Worry creases the lines on her people’s faces, turning children of ten and two into warriors, stripping them of a childhood they will never get back. 

Sansa inhales deeply, trying to push away the ache of their loss. “The night is fast approaching. Soon, darkness will reach us. More than half of these people will be dead by the next moon.” She lets the breath escape, a swirling mist around her face, shadowed by the heavy clouds above. She returns her gaze back to Lord Tyrion. “And even if we win, what will we be left with?” 

“Life,” he answers her with a sad smile. “Life, Lady Sansa. That is why we’re fighting at all, is it not? Is that not why we are all here?” He gestures to the preparations occurring around them. “Is that not why you have stood by your king and ruled in his stead?” 

The question makes her laugh in spite of herself. She catches herself a second too late and Lord Tyrion casts a speculative gaze towards her. Sansa gives her head a little shake before walking towards the Great Keep, listening to the crunching of boots behind her as he follows. “My king,” she says, keeping her tone impassive. “Is that what I should still call him? Or should I be looking to your queen for commands now?” 

Tyrion catches up to her. She isn’t walking fast after all. There is no place for her to be now that her king is home. “Lady Sansa, surely you know that it doesn’t matter who sits on the throne right now. We are fighting for life not a crown.” 

“And surely, my lord, you know that the North is unlike anywhere else,” Sansa says, stopping just outside of the great oak doors to turn and look at him. “We are loyal to our own. Proud, stubbornly so, and war or not, the North will never yield to your queen. Our paths may have crossed in times of peace, but I fear when the war is done, if we still have breaths in our lungs, we may not be able to speak so candidly with one another again.” 

There is a long pause as the man considers her words before his hand reaches out to clasp around her wrist. Sansa tenses, dread filling her veins. She reminds herself to relax at his touch. It is only Tyrion; he was good to her once. 

“It would be a terrible fate if that is the case, my lady,” Tyrion sighs, though she sees the understanding in his eyes. Abruptly, his expression shifts and there’s a twinkle in his eyes as he smiles. “You have grown into quite a woman, my lady. I always knew you would survive us all.” 

Sansa flushes and chuckles softly. “Mayhaps. I do think –” 

“Sansa?” 

She tenses again, but this time for an entirely different reason. Sansa turns, her heart seizing at the sight of Jon standing with the Dragon Queen, her hair as white as the snow swirling around them. She pulls her hand back from Tyrion’s grip and steels herself for the conversation to come. 

“Jon,” she murmurs softly, polite but distant. Sansa is of the North, the blood of the First Men running through her, and it is that stubbornness that keeps her still loyal to Jon. She suspects she always will be. He is not just of her kin; he is her friend, her anchor in this world. But it still hurts like an arrow to the back to hear he has bent the knee to this foreign queen. 

“I, uh…” Jon seems at a loss for words as he looks to Tyrion then to Sansa. It’s an inscrutable expression, but as quickly as it comes, it’s gone. He moves his gaze back to the woman by his side. “Oh. Sansa, this is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Your grace, this is Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell. My… my sister.” 

Daenerys smiles and her teeth glint against her pale skin and pale hair. Everything about her is so pale. She looks like a ghost, Sansa thinks, a dead thing walking in the world of the living. The Dragon Queen steps forward, her words abruptly dying in her throat, as Ghost lets out a deep, gutteral growl, teeth bared. 

“Is that…” 

“A direwolf, your grace,” Sansa says, placing a hand on top of Ghost’s furry head, trying to placate the great beast. “I must apologise. I don’t know what has gotten into him.” She catches Jon’s eye and he looks confused. 

“Ghost, no,” he says sternly, but the direwolf blinks up at him, a whimper now replacing the growl. He, however, remains by Sansa’s side, still standing protectively in between Daenerys Stormborn and her. Jon’s confusion grows and he turns back to the foreign queen. “He is protective of his pack. I left him to take care of Sansa while I was away. I believe he is taking that quite seriously.” 

“It’s not an issue, Jon,” she says quietly, smiling up at him. “I understand. Dragons and direwolves are not beasts easily tamed.”

Sansa bristles at the use of his name and Ghost seems to sense her change in mood as he begins to growl again, louder this time, more menacing as if Daenerys’ words had cut her like a physical lash across her skin instead of the wound deepening inside of her chest. She cards her fingers through Ghost’s fur and grips gently. 

“I will take him inside,” Sansa announces. Jon looks ready to protest, his eyes widening and worry brimming in them like unshed tears, but she is good at putting on a mask. “I have matters to attend to so I must beg your leave, your grace. It was a pleasure to meet you.” She looks back to Jon. “Ghost, come.” The giant white wolf immediately falls back by her side and the two disappear back into the Great Keep. She hears the soft murmurs of conversation between the three of them, but she doesn’t need to hear what they have to say. 

Ghost may not be hers. Ghost may always be a part of Jon and loyal to him above anyone else, but as she lies in bed that night, arms wrapped tightly around the great wolf, she draws comfort in his presence. If Ghost is still watching over her then Jon still loves her. He is still loyal to her and that is all she needs to know. For now, that has to be enough. 

Working through college had never been Bitty’s ideal situation, but it was the price he had to pay for choosing an out-of-state school, he supposed. Thankfully, between Samwell’s generous grants and his work-study allowance, he could scrape by at the pricey university without too much help from his parents. Even more thankfully, he’d managed to score a great job in a campus cafe in his freshman year. Sadly, his sophomore year didn’t work out quite so nicely. The cafe couldn’t manage to work around his schedule as well as it had the previous year, so Bitty was stuck scrambling desperately for a job at the start of the semester. He couldn’t be too upset about ending up working in the library’s main computer lab.

Overall, he didn’t mind it too much. The bulk of his job was just to remind people not to eat or drink too close to the computers and to occasionally go around and log out of any idling, unmanned computers. Otherwise, he was left to do homework (read: scroll through Twitter) at the front desk. He was doing just that, French textbook open in front of him and phone resting on top so he could use it one-handed, when someone cleared their throat above him. His startled jerk was enough to knock his phone into the floor, and he was thoroughly embarrassed by the time he grabbed it up and gave his attention to the man at the desk.

The guy looked familiar in the same way that most students around the small campus looked familiar and so obviously unknown to him. He was tall, with dark hair flopping over his forehead and a surly enough look on his face to drain the blush right out of Bitty’s cheeks. Still, Bitty managed to offer him an only slightly shaky smile. “Hi, sorry about that! I promise I’m not usually so jumpy, Lord. God knows what’s gotten into me. What can I do for you?”

“I, euh…” Maybe Bitty was imagining it, but he could have sworn the guy’s cheeks turned a little rosy. “I was wondering which printer to use?”

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Ripped Jeans

Im Jaebumx Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Genre: Thigh Riding Smut

Summary: Jaebum had been thinking about a certain kink all day long, even when he shouldn’t have been

Author’s Note: Send all the holy water y’all have, and drink some yourself. We all need jesus.
Inspired by this:

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Angel With A Shotgun // The Preacher’s Daughter Finale [A Mitch Rapp Smut]

Author: @minhosmeanhoe

Series: Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader / Mitch Rapp x OFC

Warnings: Violence, Death, Mentions Of Sex, Angst, Emotional Torture, Super Cute Mitch Rapp, and Swearing. 

Word Count: 9,347

Song: I’ll Be Good by Jaymes Young

A/N: Happy American Assassin premiere weekend and happy belated birthday @stilinski-jpeg! I really hope you guys enjoy the ending to this series that I have grown to love so much. Thank you for all of the support, all of the kind comments and all of the love towards it. Because of your never ending positivity, I have decided to make a sequel series to this. I don’t know when it’ll be out because I still have a lot to plan, but there already is a title which I won’t say because then it’ll be a spoiler for the ending of this one lol. Thank you for reading, I love you guys so much.

Once, when I was around the age of twelve, I almost drowned to death and I remember it like it had happened to me just yesterday. I was swimming around with my closest friends in the world, one of them being Nia. We all played in my pool and were having the times of our lives, not knowing what would be happening in the following seconds as I accidentally slipped and hit my head on the edge of the pool. Immediately getting knocked out, my entire body fell limp into the water.

No one had realized there was something wrong and I was forced to suffer alone. The only thing that surrounded me was absolute darkness. I could hear my friends laughing and playing amongst themselves, but I couldn’t actually see them. I remember feeling like my head was on the verge of exploding as the lack of air left me in complete agony. Everything burned and I had never felt more miserable until, finally, someone noticed me and pulled me out of the water. They breathed life back into my lungs, my eyes eventually opening as I felt the darkness disappear away. Instead, the sight of a worried Nia hovering over me as she performs CPR on me took over my vision.

That moment of complete torture is exactly what I’m going through right now, but this time Nia isn’t here to pull me out of it.

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First Fight With Peter Parker Headcannons

requested: hi!! i really loved your dating peter headcanons jfndjkdks they put such a big smile on my face! i was wondering if i could request some headcanons of peter and the reader getting into their first big fight please?? <3

  • fights with peter are never ever fun
  • because not only does he always end up looking like a kicked puppy but he also gets extremely upset with himself
  • if he’s mad at you,, his eyes wouldn’t be all doe-like they would look like stone
  • his jaw would get all tense
  • his fists would clench so hard that his hands would legit hurt
  • but he wouldn’t be able to focus or feel anything else bc he’s so hurt
  • he’s not very confident with himself :((
  • and he doesn’t want to start a fight with u especially the first one
  • but you’ve been ( in his eyes ) flirting with flash
  • and flash is peter’s bully
  • so peter keeps it to himself and tried to drop little hints that it was pissing him off until one day y’all were doing hw in his room 
  • and you complimented how nice flash’s dad’s car is
  • and peter snapped
  • “if you think flash is so great maybe he should be your boyfriend and not me!”
  • at first you were like;; where the hell did that come from?? and then realized that he was jealous
  • “peter thats not true.”
  • “really? because judging on how much time you spend taking to him and about him, it seems like he would make you a lot happier than i could (y/n.)”
  • and u get annoyed bc does this kid not understand how u only have eyes for him and don’t want a snotty rich bully and u were only talking to him because you were raised to be polite to everyone even if u didn’t like them?????
  • “peter, i. don’t. like. flash.”
  • “yES yOu Do BEcAuSe OtHerwisE yoU wOulDn’T tAlk tO hIM aLL thE tImE”
  • and his face is getting red because he’s so upset and angry
  • eventually voices start to raise
  • and he’s has a little bit of a temper so he starts to pace
  • u start to get fed up w him being sososos stubborn so you leave and tell him to; “call me when you get over yourself”
  • and thats when realization hits him so hard that he is gasping and starts to cry bc he’s realizing that you could leave him whenever you want because you’re so out of his league and he can’t live with out you
  • he’s sooooo mad at himself he stays in his room for four hours and doesn’t eat anything and doesn’t talk to may
  • so she comes in and asks him whats wrong
  • and he tells her
  • and she kind of yells at him for letting jealousy getting in the way
  • and then comforts him
  • and then tells him he needs to apologize sooner rather than later
  • he brings you flowers
  • he sits outside of your window taking deep breaths and he’s so nervous because he doesn’t know if you’re going to let him in or not
  • ofc u do bc he waited for u AND he brought you fLoWeRS
  • when he comes inside you just kind of nod your head for him to start ranting about how sorry he is and he’s stuttering and his eyes ar darting everywhere except for meeting yours
  • to make him stop you grab his wrist and pull him into a hug and he immediately calms down
  • his face is between your jaw and shoulder and he feels like he’s home again
  • “i thought you were going to make me keep going” he says as he squeezes you
  • and y’all spend the night in each others arms ::))))))

Originally posted by dayaholics