Collision Course; Voltron Legendary Defender AU: Dads of Marmora; gen; 5,300+ words; PG-13; mentions of violence, tiny hints of Ulaz/Thace, but so little you have to squint with a telescope or something
Credit for this AU goes to @drisrt and this amazing picture that inspired this story. Also some lines of the dialogue are taken from the Blades of Marmora episode of Voltron.
Keith gets adopted by the Galra empire rebellion, basically.
Keith has barely three years of life on his cells, has
barely grown up to his Father’s knees and into his Mother’s laugh when he’s
thrown into the first sense of flying, of fleeing, of his Father solemnly
reading through the coordinates Keith doesn’t understand, that Keith thinks are
just a pretty game of lights, lights that remind him of his Mom’s knife.
He’s holding it, holding onto it, tries to find the
connection between the numbers and the faintest of glows, illuminating the
insides of his fingers, misses how his Dad flinches when he asks: “When will
Mom catch up to us?” already sleepy, already curling up beneath the safety
straps of his seat.
Gently, his Father’s jacket is tucked around him and
the scent is the lullaby that sings him into dazed, motionless dreams, the
remnants of home, the flickers of the unknown.
(He sleeps through the harsh descent, the crib of his
Father’s arms, the hushed ambush, the quietest of heists.)
Summary: Jimin is your landlord’s son. After one stressful day he comes to fix your shower for you. You find yourself constantly thinking about him. Could he be the perfect submissive? (here’s some lovely Jimin moans for the occasion: credit to owner)
I’ve been working on this for forever so i’m excited about it! :)
PAIRING: Harry/Y/N RATING: R WORD COUNT: 2900+ REQUESTED: nope !
hello! this is just a quick one shot that i churned out bc i loved the concept and i was rly motivated! i hope u enjoy it! if u do, feedback is greatly appreciated (it rly motivates me) and here’s my masterlist if u want more lol :-)
I remember it like it was yesterday, although it was decades ago.
My sister and I had been fighting again, like we did so often, like I suspect most sisters do at that age.
This fight got more heated than usual. I screamed an obscenity at my sister before turning to storm out of the room, but then my neck suddenly whipped back painfully and I realised she was yanking my hair. In pain and shock, I spun around and slapped her hard across the face.
Prompt: Y/N walks in, and Harry notices she’s wearing yellow again,
this time it’s a yellow sweater with a pair of dark skinny jeans and brown
ankle boots, her hair is pulled back into a pony tail with a white scrunchie
with little smiling suns and he swears that he has to squint to look at her. “Oh! I know you-you’re the guy from the train,” Y/N beams,
“Harry, right?” she sets down the tray of muffins.
“I didn’t tell you my name,” Harry snaps.
Y/N pouts, “well yeah, but I’m also not stupid,” she says.
“Are you joining us today Harry?” the man asked, “I’m Seth,
I run the group.”
“Why else would I fucking be here,” Harry grumbled.
Y/N grabs a muffin, ignoring Harry’s sour attitude, “here, they’re made with love,” she
smiled, holding out the blueberry muffin.
“Fuck off,” Harry says. He watches as her smile fades and the glint in her eyes
seems to disappear, for a split second Harry feels like a dick, but then he
realizes he doesn’t care and Y/N should just shove the muffin up her ass.
Harry was annoyed.
It really hadn’t been his day at all. His morning was
terrible, he woke up next to a blonde and he tried really hard to remember her
name-only to fail. When he asked her to leave she insisted on making breakfast,
to which Harry responded with “feel free to grab something and leave” and then
he proceeded to shower. When he got out, the unknown girl stood in his kitchen
making herself a smoothie and toast. Her red lips in a pout, “come on, you
can’t be in that big of a rush,” Harry ended up calling security, she was
When he went into the studio he was blank, the songs he did
come in with were rejected and he couldn’t find the energy or muse to write
another one. He was out of inspiration, nothing amused Harry anymore. He found
himself not enjoying the things he used to love, drinks seemed to be the only
thing that made him feel something (and it was only for a little bit). He
didn’t enjoy being surrounded by his friends and family, his love for writing
was slipping through the cracks, and his energy was fading.
Requests: I just read The Fourth Musketeer and I’m in
love! Will you release the next part soon? I can’t wait ❤❤❤
Can u please do a part
2 of “the four musketeer” please?
I know requests are
closed and so please don’t even rush with this request like honestly take
however long you want to, but I actually need a 2nd part of ‘the fourth
musketeer’ your writing is so amazing!
Pairing: Archie x
has become invested in (Y/N)’s story, and so she seeks out those who knew her.
A/N: I have been
having so much fun writing this series, hope you guys enjoy this part!
“(Y/N)” was the only word that came out
of Veronica’s mouth as she sat down at the lunch table. Jughead, Betty, and
Kevin’s heads all snapped up.
“How do you know about (Y/N)?” Kevin
questioned. Veronica shrugged.
“Archie was kind of having a meltdown at
Jughead’s party,” she answered. Betty and Jughead shared a concerned look.
“God, what happened?” Betty asked.
“He was screaming her name when I came
up,” Veronica explained. "He
babbled on about how much he loved her and that he should’ve told her and that
he kissed her.“
“Wait, he kissed her?” Kevin
interrupted, his eyes doubling in size. He
glanced over at Jughead and Betty who appeared to be just as shocked as he was.
“You didn’t know?” Veronica’s eyes
“No,” Jughead muttered, shaking his
head. "He never told us.“
“We always knew they had a thing for each
other,” Kevin elaborated. "But
we never knew that something actually happened between them.“
"When did she move?”
“Two years ago,” Jughead answered. "The summer before eighth grade.“
"There was this dance,” Betty reminisced,
“in the fall of our eighth grade year.”
“Archie was gonna ask (Y/N),” Jughead
frowned. "He was preparing himself
ever since he first heard about the dance.“
"And he never got the chance,” Kevin
“Do you know why she moved?” Veronica
inquired. The rest of her table
“Probably her dad,” Betty replied. "He was a really intense lawyer, and he
got relocated to some big city firm.“
”(Y/N) was gonna try and stay with the
Andrews,“ said Jughead. "They
were more than willing to take her in, too. But-”
“But, of course, her parents wanted her to
go with them,” Veronica finished. Jughead grimly nodded. "So two whole years, and Archie still
isn’t over this girl?“
"Well the thing is,” Betty grimaced,
“he never coped well with her leaving. After (Y/N) left he was… strange. He practically denied her existence.”
"Yeah,” Kevin chimed in. "He never talked about her or anything. It was pretty frightening, actually. It seemed like he had completely forgotten
"And if you’re wondering why Archie can’t
get over her,” Jughead answered Veronica’s unasked question, “it’s
because he was always in love with her.”
“Yeah, he told me that,” she mumbled.
“I don’t think you understand though,”
he said. "They were both so in
love. They were always there for each
other, caring for each other. When
Archie’s parents were fighting, (Y/N) was there; whenever (Y/N)’s dog died,
Archie was there. You couldn’t find one
without the other. Betty and I were also
good friends with them, but those two? They
Maybe it was Veronica’s fascination with dramatic
love stories; maybe it was her desire for an explanation as to why Archie
didn’t return her feelings for him. Either way, she found herself searching for
more information about (Y/N). That was
how she ended up at the Andrews household. Archie wasn’t home.
”(Y/N)?“ Fred Andrews repeated, holding
a beer as he sat across from Veronica. "I
haven’t heard that name in a while.”
“I, on the contrary, have been hearing her
name quite a lot lately,” Veronica shrugged, sipping on a glass of water. "So what happened between her and
"Oh, I don’t think it’s my place to
say,” Mr. Andrews sighed. "It’s
Archie’s tale to tell.“
"He already told me about her,”
Veronica quickly explained. "But
only the happy parts. Only the parts he
wants to remember.“ Mr. Andrews
exhaled and took another swig of beer. He
stared at Veronica for a moment in silence.
"Why do you want to know?” he finally
“I like hearing stories,” she shrugged.
“This sounds like a good
book.” Fred Andrews laughed.
“If this was a book,” he responded,
“my son would’ve had a happy ending with that girl.”
“Maybe he will,” Veronica offered. "I don’t think the story’s over
yet.“ Fred’s laughter shrunk into a
smile. He cleared his throat.
"If there’s one thing you should know about
(Y/N),” he started, “it’s that she is the purest soul you will ever
meet. She was kind and gentle, and she
was exactly what Archie needed.” Veronica
quietly nodded, intrigued. "I knew
both her father and mother quite well. So,
of course, when our children were born around the same time, we knew we wanted
them to be best friends. A couple years
later, we realized we wanted them to get married.“ Fred Andrews and Veronica both laughed. "Sometimes in the movies you see the boy
and girl resisting each other because when you’re little, it’s gross to talk to
someone who’s the opposite gender. That
was never the case with Archie and (Y/N). They were both sweet on each other.”
“That’s so cute,” Veronica cooed.
“It was,” Mr. Andrews sighed. "I remember this one day; I think Archie
was eleven at the time. He and (Y/N)
were at the park all day, as they usually were. That night, he came running home and swung the
door open. His mouth was going at a mile
per minute. When I finally got him to
slow down, he told me that he was in love with (Y/N). He had the biggest grin on his face.“
"The day he kissed her?” Veronica
clarified. Mr. Andrews chuckled.
“Yeah. God, it made me so happy. I knew that he sometimes overheard his mom and
I fighting, and I was worried that it would somehow affect his relationships. That kind of stuff damages a kid, you know? But he had stars in his eyes as he talked
about (Y/N), and I don’t think I’ve seen him that happy since then.”
“I heard you offered to take her in,”
Veronica changed the subject, “when she was going to move.” Fred Andrews stiffly nodded.
“Archie’s mom and I fought a lot. But (Y/N)’s parents? That poor kid. She slept over here so many times because the
screaming was keeping her awake. And the
saddest part was she never cried or appeared to be sad. She would just come in here, clutching
Archie’s hand, looking up at me with big sad eyes and politely asked me to
stay. Of course, I never refused.” Veronica frowned. "When I heard she was moving, I was
concerned about how crushed Archie was, sure, but I couldn’t bear to let (Y/N)
go off on her own with her parents. At
least when she was in Riverdale, I knew she had a safe place here. Now, I don’t know if she has one.“ He took a long swig of beer before continuing.
”(Y/N) was like a daughter to me. Archie isn’t the only one who loved her.“
"Sounds like a special girl,” Veronica
commented. Fred nodded.
“Have you ever considered writing a book
about this?” Veronica sat across
from Jughead in Pop’s. He lightly glared
at her, lowering his laptop lid.
“Write about what?” he snapped. She had interrupted his writing when he was in
“(Y/N),” she answered. Jughead shot a glance at Betty.
“You know before Jason Blossom was shot,
(Y/N) and Archie were the most interesting things in Riverdale.”
“Wasn’t there a two-year gap between (Y/N)
leaving and Jason getting shot?” Veronica inquired.
“Isn’t it interesting that someone so in
love could just pretend that the person they loved never existed?” Betty
countered on Jughead’s behalf.
“Touché,” Veronica muttered.
“Anyways, to answer your question, of course
I’ve considered it,” Jughead said. "In
fact, I already wrote a whole novel.“
"Seriously?” Betty and Veronica
exclaimed simultaneously. Jughead nodded
“Of course. But I do think something is missing,” he
responded. Veronica furrowed her
“What do you mean?”
“Well I kept it non-fiction,” he
elaborated. "I didn’t add anything
that didn’t happen. Although, I guess
now I’ll have to put in the kiss. Anyways,
I don’t have a plot twist.“
”(Y/N) moving isn’t plot twist enough for
you?“ Betty asked a question this time.
"That’s the climax,” he explained. "Everything that happened after that was
the falling action. I have no plot twist
and no resolution.“ All three
sitting at the table furrowed their eyebrows. A faint jingle alerted the diner that there
was a new customer. Betty casually
glanced up and then did a double take at what she saw. She gripped Jughead’s arm.
"Is that plot twist enough for you?”
she whispered, gesturing towards the entrance. Jughead and Veronica’s gaze both snapped
towards the front, their focus attaching to the figure who just walked in.
“No way,” Jughead breathed.
“Is that…” Veronica trailed off,
unable to form a sentence. Jughead and
Betty both nodded, confirming her suspicions.
Hm... something about Rey and the ghost of Shmi Skywalker?
Rey is 273 days on Jakku when the woman with the dark eyes and the faint lines around her eyes bends down, and helps her wash the dust and debris from a hyperspace drive port. (Two and a half portions, never let it be said that Rey doesn’t know her worth.) “There,” the woman says, and when she smiles the lines around her eyes carve even deeper. When Rey drags the brush over the drive port, no sand kicks up. “Shiny and new. Go on, now—you can’t let him run out of portions.”
“’m Rey,” Rey says, breathless, clutching the port to her chest.
“Go!” the woman says, and Rey runs. She gets in line just in time to get the last three portions from Unkar. But when tries to find the woman after—
The sand is empty of sentients, and no one seems to know the human woman with dark hair, darker eyes, not even when Rey wanders among the camps and asks for her. Rey is only 273 days, and hungry, and so she eats there, squatted down in the sand outside someone’s tent—scarfing down half-mixed portions because she’s dizzy with starving, and she can’t wait. If the dark-haired woman wanted some, she should have been easier to find.
Rey sleeps that night full—or, at least, what she thinks is full—and dreams of a wattle-and-daub hut, and a woman with dark hair, dark eyes, laughing. The woman’s son sits with sun-bleached hair, his mouth is skewed as he works on a droid to help his mother with the customers that come. Rey helps too, and when he smiles at her, it feels like coming-home.
They are so happy, and Rey wakes crying, even though that is water she cannot afford to lose.
“No, not that one,” the woman says, and Rey drops the part like it burns her hand to touch. She whirls around, and there is the woman with the dark eyes, dark hair. She’s smiling, a little bemusedly, at Rey, at the specific part Rey was trying to extract from the mess of decay and rust.
“What’s wrong with it?” Rey demands. She is six hundred and seven days now, and she thought—
“Navigation systems are fiddly,” the woman says, stepping towards her, and then she is there, close enough for Rey to touch, to—“Biologic growth damages them first, interferes with the electro-magnetic signaling. This has—” she grunts, and the part comes away in her hand. “This has overgrown. It’s not worth installing again, it’ll just send the ship off-course trying to follow all those awful fractals.”
“What good does that do me?” Rey asks, thinking of all the portion she’s lost, if this stranger is right. She’d just wanted—
But the stranger smiles, and her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Come on,” she says, lowering herself to sit on the durasteel floor of the mighty star destroyer. “I’ll show you a trick my unscrupulous master showed me, on how to make it look as though tech has never been damaged.”
Rey spends the whole afternoon with her chin hooked over the woman’s soft shoulder, watching as she shows Rey how to reroute, undo, lay down new electric pathways. She smells like something sharp, the way Rey has always imagined ozone would smell if Rey had ever found the courage to leave the atmosphere. Her eyes are older than her face, that much Rey knows for sure.
“There you go,” the woman finally says, pressing the piece into Rey’s hand. “Good as new. Plutt won’t even be able to tell the difference, so you shouldn’t accept less than five and a quarter portions—”
“What about you?” Rey asks. The woman is warm, and alive, and human, and Rey finds herself hoping she’s her mother. Just to have something, someone. And especially her, with her crinkled eyes, the way she rests a hand against Rey’s cheek like—
“Oh, I’m fine,” the woman says, and Rey’s heart falters. “You will be full, on five and a quarter portions. That’s enough.”
Rey eats alone, eats until she is sick on constituted bread and meat, and she lies in her own bed biting down on her fist to keep herself from crying.
Sometimes, Rey looks out of the corner of her eye, and there she is, the woman with the dark hair and the dark eyes. “Hello, Mother,” Rey begins greeting her at some point, muttered in between breaths as she extracts another part, as she wakes from her midday nap in the shadowy berth of a star destroyer, as she forces herself to stay longer, work harder.
Sometimes, she hears someone murmur, hello, daughter, but she’s not sure. She’s not.
Poor affection-starved Rey, longing for a family, any family, even a ghost. Even the vague shape, even a shadow. Even the hint of a mother, whispering in her ear, droids have always been harbingers of good news, of better things ahead. Strangers may be angels. You are more. Run, go. I will follow you there.
Rey isn’t sure, really, but in the barracks of D’Qar, Rey tosses and turns, until a cool hand comes to rest on her forehead, her neck. Shhh, a voice that is not quite the Force but might be something similar, whispers. It strokes its cool knuckles over the rabbit-pulse of her jugular. Shh, rest. You have a war to fight in the morning.
Luke has holos of his family—Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker, Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru Whitesun-Lars. But it’s the holo of their their step-mother, Shmi, that stops Rey in her tracks, stops her breathing at all. Anakin’s mother, Luke says, but Rey is holding onto he lightsaber too tightly to hear.
I know her, she says, and Luke goes still, blinks.
She used to—sing me lullabies, Rey says, because that’s all she can remember just now, the dark-haired-dark-eyed woman—Shmi Skywalker, chosen to be Mother of the Living Force, blessed, holy—humming in Rey’s darkened AT-AT. Shmi singing in Huttese; warm and calloused hands, a rough voice singing of how much she loved, would protect—
Luke catches Rey before she hits her knees, gathers her up to his chest. Shh, Luke murmurs, stroking her hair as Rey sobs. Shhh, it’s all right. Everything will—it’ll turn out right. It’ll be—it’ll be right.
Rey feels a cool touch at her forehead (impossible, Luke’s hands are hot at her waist, and—) and she sobs again, feeling hollow, feeling like she’s come home, somehow, impossibly. It is a war, she shouldn’t feel….
Shh, Luke and his grandmother whisper together, cradling Rey against the bulwark of light they represent. Shh.
If requests are open, could you make a jughead x fem Reader where he never asked what her real name was (everyone just calls her by a nick name and has been doing so for years.) and when he finally figures it out and calls her by that name, the reader falls in love with the way it sounds when he says it. Sorry if it’s confusing, I just thought it’d be cute :)
Y/N/N = Your Nick Name
Y/N = Your (real/full) Name
L/N = Your Last Name
I loved this idea so much! I hope you like the way I wrote it!
The first time it was brought up was at the diner. You sat next to Jughead, and the two of you were sitting across from Betty and Veronica. You all were sharing stories from your childhoods, including Jughead, when it finally got to you.
“Y/N/N, did you ever have a nickname?” You smiled at Veronica, who had admitted a few of her own embarrassing nicknames.
“Y/N/N,” you replied, sipping at your milkshake.
“What,” Jughead asked and you laughed while turning to face him.
“Y/N/N is my nickname,” you said, but he still looked confused, “I’ve gone by Y/N/N my whole life. Even my parents use it rather than my actual name.”
“No, I get that,” he said, meeting your eyes, “but what’s your real name?” Veronica raised an eyebrow and Betty let out a laugh. “You’ve been best friends with Y/N/N for how long, and yet you still don’t know her full name?” Jughead squinted his eyes at Veronica and you let out a small giggle. “Now I have to know,” he said, turning to face you, but you just stared at him. “You’re a smart, independent, young man,” you said, causing Jughead to smile at you, “you can figure it out.” Betty rolled her eyes, “stop flirting you two, we’re trying to be nostalgic.” You felt a blush creep up onto your cheeks and with a glance at Jughead, you saw he was blushing too.
The second time it was brought up was at your locker door. School had ended and you were grabbing your jacket and text book out of your locker. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Jughead walking towards you, looking annoyed.
“What’s up Juggie,” you asked as he leaned against the lockers next to yours.
“So I went to the library during my free period,” he said and you started to close your locker door.
“Sounds adventurous,” you said, looking up and smiling at him.
“Ha! Very funny,” he said, “I went there looking to check out some yearbooks. When I asked for them she said, and I quote, ‘they’ve all been checked out.’”
You gave him a smug smile, “Hmm, how strange.” He nodded, “isn’t it?”
*if you’d like to listen to some tunes during this, i would just recommend the wreck of our hearts by sleeping wolf.. over and over again!!*
There was a
pounding ache in your head. It felt like a million pieces of your brain
shattering to the ground, falling apart into almost nothing. Your throat felt
dry and with the little strength within you, you swallowed the dry spit in your
was blurred and your memories felt cluttered – one here and another there. The
lights were bright in the room, too bright. The ceiling was staring straight
down at you. There were all these wires tangled around you, you felt paralyzed.
This is it. My blood, sweat, and tears. It’s been a long time coming with this one, so I want to thank @trulymadlysydney and @outofworkactress for giving me the words I need to hear so I can finally release this into the world. I feel like a mother on their child’s first day of school. It’s a bittersweet feeling.
In the words of @permanentcross, this is my favorite sandbox to mess with, and the more I try to explain it, the worse it turns out, but simply stated, Harry is infatuated with a girl who would never want him.
I’ve edited this a thousand times, and it’s still not perfect, but if I don’t let this little bird fly away now, it never will. So, please be kind. I’m trying my hardest. x
first time he sees you, a mere glance from across the room, he has to remind
himself he has a girlfriend. A lovely woman, she was, like most of the female
counterparts he took in his life, but like most woman he chose to spend his
time with, they all had one thing in common. Temporary. He knew he was growing closer to the end with this one;
Hannah, a friend of a friend who was easy on the eyes, laughed at his sore
attempts at jokes, and quite simply, knew she herself was as temporary as a
toothbrush. They’d keep each other company for the time being and a couple of
months down the road, they’d part ways, and the rest would be history. Simple
the first time he sees you, cuddled a little too close to his best mate, peering down at his phone as a small
giggle escaped your parted lips, he stops dead in his tracks and backtracks. You were a catch.
had his arm swung behind you, resting carelessly along the wooden seats, and
Harry almost digs at himself as he resorts back to their conversation the night
before wondering if he had missed the part in text where Niall stated he’d be
bringing a female guest of interest. He doesn’t remember anything of the sort,
but it doesn’t go unnoticed when he hands his beer out to you, and you
instantly wince when the dark lager meets your lips.
Dean jumps slightly when the bunker’s door creaks. It’s been over a month, but he still thinks please, please, please before looking up.
“Cas,” Sam says.
Cas’ shoulders are stiff. “Hello.”
“Hey. You’re all right. Um ─” Cas turns away and starts down the stairs. Sam glances at Dean before continuing, “Where’ve you been?”
Dean’s pulse is thumping in his ears. “Lemme rephrase that for Sam: where the hell’ve you been? And why’ve you ignored our phone calls?”
“Where I was,” Cas says, pausing beside the table, “the reception was ─ um. Poor.”
Dean’s jaw tics; being angry is easier than ─ it’s just easier. He grunts, “No bars,” and looks back at Sam. “No bars ─ that’s his excuse.” He takes a breath and meets Cas’ eyes. “Wow.”
“I was in Heaven. I was… working with the angels.”
Dean’s mouth moves but nothing comes out. On his third try he says, “You ─ Heaven? You were in Heaven?”
“So you ─ uh. You.” Heat crowds up underneath Dean’s jaw. “You were - did you -?” He’s not sure he wants to ask that question in front of Sam, so he grumbles, “Whatever,” and walks out of the War Room.
AN: Ok so this is my first fic and i’m super nervous to post this. I just wanna thank @ninja-stiles for helping keep me motivated and helping edit.
Best friends are supposed to be with you no matter what, they’re supposed to be there for you through everything, always be happy for you and support you.
Dylan was exactly that. We have been friends since we were little, neither of us can actually remember a time when we didn’t know each other, but our moms tell us we’ve been friends since the womb. Dylan has been there for me through everything crappy that life has decided to throw my way, and I have done the same for him. But not once did I ever think that being happy for him would kill me inside.
I love you (And the other 100 ways of saying it.)
Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter Eight Year in Hogwarts. The new blooming
friendship has started since the very next day after Voldemort died. Harry has
visited the Manor to give Malfoy his wand back. They forgave each other. They
let go. They moved on. Rebuilding Hogwarts for four months is also a good way
to build a friendship, you know? Once school started, they have been quite
close, closer than expected because apparently Hermione and Ron don’t come
back. Somehow The Hogwarts Express has been awfully late.
The next compartment is empty, but you’re
alone. “You mind sharing a compartment? The rest is already full.”
“Happy belated birthday, Potter.” Puts a small
gift on his lap.
It’s awfully late, I bet you haven’t eaten
anything. “Stop staring, Potter, it’s rude. Here, I’m full anyway.”
Idiot, stop kicking your blanket to the
floor, it’s cold. Put the blanket in place and cast a sticking
charm over it.
“Here’s your trunk.”
Cast a warming charm for the whole carriage.
“What? The thestrals must be cold too.”
Nonchalantly sit beside Harry in the Great Hall.
Put two treacle tarts on Harry’s plate. “What?
You like them.”
11. “Morning, Potter.”
12. Slides a cup of coffee towards Harry.
13. “Don’t forget your Charm books.”
14. “See you later.”
15. “How’s the day?”
16. “Stop hogging the food, Potter.” Eat
slowly, you git, you’ll get a stomachache.
17. Casually put two glasses of water on their
18. Put an apple beside Harry’s breakfast. “You’ll
die early with your diet.”
19. Our first class is potion, will you be okay
after Severus’ death? “You’re helpless, Potter. Sit back and observe, maybe
you’ll learn something by being my partner.”
20. Slap Harry’s hand away. “Idiot. Clean your
21. “Remember, 7 times clockwise, Potter.” It
will be dangerous if you stir only 6 times.
22. “Finally, a decent result.” It’s a really
good result, but let’s not feed your ego.
23. You look extremely tired. “Stop being
unmotivated git. Long day?”
forget to work on your charm essay.”
25. Smiles softly when he has finished his
homework only to find Harry’s asleep on the sofa.
26. Take off Harry’s glasses and fix his blanket.
27. Check Harry’s charm essay and gives some
pointers on wrong statements.
28. Levitates Harry and tucks him in bed. Essay
and glasses neatly put in their bedside drawer.
29. “Wake up, Potter. Finish your essay.”
30. “Your mood puts me in a bad mood, Potter. See
you in DADA.” Cheer up, you git.
31. “Fancy a duel?”
32. “Impressive, Potter.”
33. “That’s your best shot? Aim better.” Stop
channeling your power without precision.
34. “Focus, Potter. I could kill you.” Fuck
you, Potter, that’s a fucking lethal curse. Thank Merlin you move.
35. Grinning with twinkle in his eyes. “Nice
36. I would love to see that expression on your
face everyday. Don’t lose it.
38. “It’s Friday tomorrow, fancy a seeker match?”
39. Your nightmares are getting worse.
40. “You wish you’re the better seeker.” Whatever,
of course you are better.
41. “Nice game, Potter.”
42. “We’ll crash the library tomorrow, Potter.” Your
homework are piling, stop procrastinating, you git.
43. Pointing the answer on the book. Rolls eyes
44. “Potter, accompany me tomorrow in the Room of
45. “I’m brewing a potion. You’re here to distract
me from sleeping.”
need this as much as I do, you git, that’s why you’re here. “Stop whining,
47. “Of course, you’ll sleep eventually.”
Transfiguring the chair into something more comfortable.
of Dreamless sleep that doesn’t give you an addiction. Your nightmares are
getting worse. –DM’
49. “You are welcome, Potter.”
50. Your nightmares are not getting any better.
Are you okay? “Do the dreamless sleep at faulty?”
51. Then why do you keep having nightmares?! “You’re
still having nightmares.”
52. “I’m so sorry, Potter. For all it’s worth, it
didn’t fair.” I’m sorry. I hope they’re happy and proud wherever they are
53. ‘Happy Halloween, Potter.’ Put a
bag of Honeydukes sweets on the edge of Harry’s bed.
54. “Happy Thanksgiving, Potter.” Put a large
piece of Turkey meet on Harry’s dinner plate.
55. “Look, it is finally snowing. First snow this
56. Throw a snow ball on Harry’s back.
57. Have a happy snowballs fight.
58. “Happy Christmas, Harry.” Put a Christmas
present on Harry’s lap before leaving to the Manor.
59. Put the charmed snow globe from Harry on the
bedside drawer in the Manor. Thank you, it’s pretty. Mother and I’s
miniatures look happy, playing in the snow.
new year, Harry. May this year be good to you. –DM’
61. “Stop slopping around, NEWT is just around the
62. “Come on, I’ll help you with Potion.”
63. “You don’t work hard enough.” Come on,
Potter, you need to be better than this if you want to be an Auror.
64. “Have you decided on your future career?”
65. You’re one of the few who don’t think it’s
an impossible job for me. Thank you. Smiles softly.
you ever think of applying to be a DADA teacher here? Or being recruited into a
Quidditch league?” I just need you to know there are other options that will
give you less stress.
67. Well whatever your future job is, Harry
Potter, please be safe and happy.
68. “Stay away from dragon scale, it will trigger
an explosion on your calming draught.” Stop being an idiot please, you could
actually lose your life.
69. “Good luck on your NEWTs.”
70. “Potter, tomorrow is Charm, not
71. “Here, have some.” Slide a box of Narcissa
chocolates for Harry.
72. “She’ll love that.” Yes, she also has been
asking about you. I believe your visit would be good for Mother. Thank you.
for Potion? Relax, you’ll do well.”
74. “How’s potion? Don’t tell me you blow
anything.” Please remember potions can be lethal sometimes.
75. “Remarkable, Potter.”
76. “Cheer up, tomorrow is the last day.”
77. “Thank Merlin and Salazar, it’s all done! How
are you holding up, Potter?”
78. “Can’t sleep either?”
79. “Fancy a night stroll?”
80. Rolls eyes swiftly and casually fixes the
scarf on Harry’s neck.
81. “You see that star? That is the reason Mother
named me Draco.” Maybe you’ll remember the star, and you’ll remember me each
time you look at the sky.
82. “You’re a good company, Harry.” It’s nice
being like this with you.
83. Thank you for deciding in befriending me that
day, you give me a new purpose to keep fighting. “Thank
84. For saving me again and again, from
Voldemort, from the Fiendfire, from my own demons. For giving me a common sense
to keep living. For offering your hand in friendship that day after the war.
For trusting in my ability to become a Potion Master. “Just for everything and anything, really.”
85. You really are beautiful under the
86. “What do you think will happen after
Hogwarts?” Would we still be like this? Could we? Is it ridiculous for
87. “You really believe that?” Because I want
that to happen too, for us to not stop being friends, maybe even more?
88. Yeah, I like that very much. “Okay.”
89. “Don’t forget your spare glasses, Potter.”
90. “Seriously, you need to stop procrastinating
and panicking on the last second.” Seriously, you don’t forget anything,
just lock your trunk.
91. “Tomorrow would be very different, wouldn’t
it?” I’m afraid to go back to the real world. Are you?
92. It might just be our last day meeting each
other. “Accompany me to Hogsmead?”
93. “Fancy a butterbeer? Come on, drinks on me.”
94. “You what?” God, it must be a dream, right?
95. “You’re being serious right now?” Cause if
you’re not, I’ll saw off your balls and ship it to America right now, Harry
Potter. If you’re joking, you’re a dead man.
96. “Okay then, I would like that very much.”
97. “Sleep fine?” You sleep as peaceful as a
baby, I almost stop the train so that the bumpy ride doesn’t wake you up.
98. “Mother said she will pick us up.” You sure
want to visit Mother? It doesn’t have to be today, you know.
99. “Mother, you remember Harry Potter? Harry,
Mother. Mother, my boyfriend.” You git, stop smiling like you need to impress
someone. You have a life debt toward Mother, just act normal. Salazar, help me,
this is embarrassing,
100. Marry me. “Scared,
101. “You wish.” Fuck you, I’ll be damned if I’m
scared. I love you, you git.
Your mothers were best friends throughout high school and college, so naturally you were around each other from birth. You’d seen each other through the good and bad. You were inseparable. He was your best friend, your first kiss (at 12 years old, you both just wanted to see what it felt like and decided to use each other), your other half. Him and you. You and him. That’s the way it always was.
You were often teased by other friends about your closeness with him. Constantly affectionate with one another; kissing cheeks or hugging waists. You never questioned it. He was familiar, comfortable. That’s the way it always was.
He was always magnetic, it came naturally to him. People just gravitated towards him. He was consistently pulled to you instead. You watched as your crowd of friends cheered him on while he chugged a beer. He glanced around and met your eyes, seeing you sitting at the bar with a full drink. Excusing himself from the crowd, he made his way over to you.
“Oi, love! Wut’re ya doing? Supposed to be getting drunk with me, yeh?”
He’s grinning at you with his perfectly straight smile, eyes cloudy from alcohol while still bright just from their natural color. He was beautiful and that was never lost on you, often having moments of just admiring his beauty. This being one of those times.
You laugh at him. “Don’t think anyone can get as drunk as you are right now. How many in are you?”
“Not even drunk yet, love. I’ve only had 2 beers. I plan to have many, many more and I plan to have them with you.” Raising his hand to catch the bartender’s attention, he ordered another beer for himself. “What’s with ya tonight anyway? You a’right?”
Truthfully, you were just exhausted. Only tagging along on this night out because you couldn’t resist him and his persistent begging. You longed for your sweet, soft cotton bedsheets and 3 fluffy pillows.
“I’m fine. Just tired. Not all of us have massive energy like you.” you reply to him.
He laughs. “Not massive energy, just tryin’ to drink away my problems and what not”
The bartender sits his beer down in front of him. Muttering a thank you, he turns towards me more, “Care to join me?”
You look at him with confusion. What problems could he possibly have? You decide to ignore his comment, you catching the bartender’s attention this time. “Martini, please.”
He smiles at you once again, proud of himself for enticing you to down drinks with him. “There’s ma girl!” he says.
An hour later, it’s past 1AM, and you were both far from sober. Standing outside the bar, holding onto each other for support, you tried to catch a cab home.
“Stooooooop!” He yells at a passing taxi. Far too loud but far too drunk to care. “Neva’ gonna stop for us, love.”
“Wanna just walk? I mean, my apartment is like 3 blocks from here.” You say. You’ve never been one to wait and the cold night air wasn’t helping the waiting situation.
“Sure, let’s gooooooo!” He yells again, grabbing onto your shoulder for leverage.
Him staying in your apartment was never a weird thing. He slept there often, almost more than he did as his own apartment. He even his own side of your bed.
Stumbling into the door, he throws his shoes off by the coffee tables and dives onto the couch. You chuckle at him and heads towards the kitchen for two bottled waters.
“Here drink this, you’ll need it in the morning.” handing him the bottle. He looks up at you with red, squinty eyes and says “What an angel you are.”
You roll your eyes, opening your own bottle to down the cold liquid. “What can I say?”
Suddenly he sits up, looking at you with the tiniest smile. “You look pretty.” reaching over to touch your cheek, “H’ve yeh always been this pretty?” his words slurring together.
You laugh. “Well, I have always had this face.” Without thinking, you lean into his touch. His hand moving more towards the nape of your neck. “Pretty much stuck with it.”
“It’s a nice face, I quite like it.” He trails his other hand down the bridge of your nose. “Like ya lips too. Always ‘ave.” His fingertips running over your cupid’s bow.
You stare at him, observing his actions. “Is that so?”
“D’ya remember when we were 12 and we kissed each other in my room?” He lets out a snort, “Tried to be sneaky because our mothers were just downstairs.”
You remember the memory quite well, it being one of your favorites. You were both so nervous but he did everything he could to make your nerves go away, cracking a joke before it happened to make you laugh. “I remember…”
“Don’t have to be sneaky now, do we?” His fingers now running along the length of your collarbone. Touching you so lightly, you could barely feel it. “We can kiss all we want, can’t we?”
“You are so drunk.” nervously laughing, you pull his hands away from your neck. “Don’t even know what you’re saying”
“I know exactly what i’m saying, love.” He now replaces his hands with his lips. The feeling of them, igniting something in you you’ve never felt before. “Know exactly what i’m thinking too.”
Scared of what his answer may be, you cautiously ask, “What are you thinking?”
Looking you dead on in the eyes, he answers with, “Thinking of how i’d love to make you cum, love.”
Choking on noise in your throat, you look away from his eyes. What is happening? What is going on right now?, you think. This can’t be happening.
You quickly realize that it is in fact happening when he grabs you by the nape of your neck once again and lightly brushes his soft lips against yours. “Let me kiss ya, please…..been dying to all night long.”
Had he really? Your best friend had been thinking about kissing you all night long?
You simply nod your head and his smooth lips are against yours in no time. His lips moving slow, taking his time. You move your hands into his soft hair, tugging a bit as he deepens the kiss.
“So pretty, love…..so, so pretty.” He says after pulling back for air. “Gonna let me kiss you all over? Make you feel good? Make you feel pretty?” His hands running across your chest in a silent plea for permission.
“God, yes. Yes. Make me feel pretty.” He moves his lips to your neck, while his hands lower to your belt buckle. Unraveling it from your belt loops, he pops the front button open, slipping his warm fingers into the band of your underwear.
“So wet already, ‘aven’t even touched ya yet.” You barely have time to be embarrassed before you feel his fingers on your most intimate place. Your best friend. With his fingers in your jeans.
“Don’t tease me, please.” You whine, desperate for him to touch you more. He grants your request, slipping a finger in, pumping slowly enough that you feel the ridges in his middle finger.
You moan. “Thought you were gonna kiss me?” He looks at you with a smug smile, adding another finger as he replies, “Where do ya want me to kiss? Tell me.”
Known for being teasing in general, you don’t know why you didn’t think he would enjoy being a tease in the bedroom. “You know where I want you to kiss me.”
He kisses your cheek. “Here?” He moves to kiss your lips. “Or here?” Moving down to your stomach, “Oh, I know. Right here?”
Bucking your hips towards his mouth, he places a kiss on your clothed center. Earning a moan, he looks up from between your thighs, “That’s the spot, innit?”
“Yessss” you moan, unable to hold it in. “Kiss me there, please.”
“Anything for you.” he says, pulling your dark jeans from your legs, your underwear long with it. He places your foot on his shoulder, kissing the inside of you thigh.
He takes a light lick at first, making you clench. The tip of his tongue giving attention to your sensitive folds, before lowering his head and attached his lips to your nub.
“Shiiiit” you moan once more, giving up at holding them in at this point. “That feels so good.”
He adds his finger back into the mix. Your muscles clenching at the feeling of such pleasure. You were close and he had barely started.
“You taste so good, wanna stay down here for days.” You meet his eyes, and you remind yourself to take a mental image of this moment for future references. He looks beautiful, he looks comfortable, he looks at home between your two thighs.
His finger speeding up, and his mouth attaching to your most sensitive area. You feel the familiar burn in your stomach approaching. “Fuck i’m gonna c-cum, oh my god.”
Sucking even harder against you, he spurs you on, “Come on, give it to me. Cum for me, beautiful.”
You eyes roll back in your head, your ears suddenly going deaf. You can’t hear him, all you can feel is the hard wave of your ecstasy crashing over you.
You feel him pet your forehead as you wind down from your high. Feeling his sweet kisses against your cheek. “Was I pretty?” you ask, grinning lightly.
“Fucking beautiful when you cum, love.” He says, grinning back. “So fucking pretty.”
Summary – You are house-sitting
for some friends on the Chesapeake Bay in the middle of a hurricane.
Unbeknownst to you, you’re not alone. Takes place immediately following the
events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
Warnings – None
Word Count – 1,260
Notes – As usual,
I’m taking a lot of liberties with Bucky in this fic. None of us know just how much he actually
remembers, or when those memories starting coming back. I have a plan on where I want this fic to go,
so I need him to remember certain things to get us there. As always, I appreciate all of your feedback
At the mention of the Helicarriers, his head shot up. His eyes were wide, and you could practically
see the memories flooding back into his mind.
“Steve. Oh my God, Steve. Is he dead?”
“Steve? Do you mean Steve
Rogers, Captain America?”
With every word you spoke, his face seemed to crumple. He looked down at his left arm in disgust as
he flexed the metal fingers. “What did I
“Oh my God, you’re the guy that almost killed Captain America.” You didn’t wait for him to confirm or deny
your statement. Without thinking about
the consequences, you turned and ran for door behind you.
You made it to the back porch, your feet mere inches from
the grass when a cold metal arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you up
against a solid wall of muscle. His
right hand clamped over your mouth as he effortlessly carried your struggling
form back into the house.
-When Harley told her Puddin she was pregnant, he was not happy. He actully growled at her to get rid of it. She got so mad at his request she walked out on him, and planned on never talking to him again.
-He had completely forgotten about Harley’s reasoning for leaving, convinced she left to be with another man. That was until the day you were born, when she broke her own promise and sent him on picture of you, sleeping in the nursery.
-It was love at first sight, and he immediately got in the lambo, speeding to the hospital, and shooting anyone who tried to stop him as he advanced towards the nursery. When he saw you laying there, he broke the glass, took you in his arms and left. He later texted Harley telling her to meet him at the condo they once shared. She was there in 15 minutes.
-Harley was pissed that he took you, but when she saw him cradling you in his arms, looking at you with nothing but affection, all the anger melted away.
-When you were little the duo went on less crime sprees, the dirty work was mostly left for the henchmen to do, with one of the two attending every once in a while. However it wasn’t until you were 17 that they went back to their normal routines of mischief.
-You were Daddy’s little monster, no matter what you wanted Joker always tried to get it for you, he even took you to the park once a week.
-You were Mommy’s little vexor. You defiantly had her tongue, and sense of humor. Her proudest moment was when you were six and scared a girl in your class by saying, “The voice told me to ruin your tower, since you stole my crayons.”
-Most of the staff at the school knew who your parents were, and not to mess with either of them. So most of the stuff you did was overlooked, and you always got good grades (Which you did earn, since you were one of the smartest kids in the class)
-When Harley and Joker would fight, Joker would lock you in your room. They would scream and throw shit and sometimes one of them would leave. You would be sitting on your bed and listening to everything, until one of them (Normally Harley) opened the door, and scooped you into her lap to wipe your tears.
-Harley tried to leave with you once after a fight, you just remember seeing broken dishes on the floor, holes in the wall from gun fire, and punches, the whole house was a mess. When Joker saw her carrying you out though he sharply hissed, “Oh no no no Kitten, you aren’t taking my princess.”
“Oh no Mr. J I am, and you will leave us alone.” And then Harley ran from the condo, hot wired a car and drove you both to a hotel in a neighboring town.
-Of course Joker came looking for you both, and it was agreed after that fight, that he would be the one leaving the house if it got that bad, and Harley would stay home with you. He didn’t like the idea of an emotional Harley taking you into the dangers of Gotham without protection
-Your mother used to tell you the story of her falling in love with Joker as a bed time story sometimes. She told it as different characters, like sometimes they were royalty, other times mythical gods, but it was always the same plot.
-Your Father told you tales of his crimes for bed, sparing no detail from them. He left nothing out, and enjoyed how when he talked about killing people your eyes would light up slightly. He also told you his adventures with Batman, but those were only told when Harley was in the room with him. (His bedtime stories were your little secrets)
-Everyone in your school was scared to be friends with you, mostly because you were the princess of Gotham, and everyone knew that your parents would not hesitate killing them if they didn’t like the kid, or hurt you.
-When he shared this with you, you decked him. The impact of your fist to his face left a bruise over his eye, then proceeded to bruise, cut and bloody the rest of his face. You went home that day with bruised knuckles, an attitude, and a 3 day suspension. Joker had never been prouder.
-You wore the shortest, most low cut dress to your prom, courtesy of Harley, who also did your makeup and hair. Joker protested at first however you interjected, “My father is the most scary man in Gotham, trust me, no boy, or girl or professor wants to fuck with me.”
-Just to ease his fears, you hid a small pistol in your bra. Harley laughing slightly when you pulled the small weapon from your black lace bra.
-You once told Joker you hated him while arguing. He was so offended he left the house for three weeks. When he came back you ran into his arms, tears running down your face as you apologized. He forgave you
-You always had quiet nights in on your birthday, even though Joker always wanted to throw you the largest parties.
-Most times you would retire the normal action movie for a comedy movie, and the condo would quickly fill with the evil laughter of all three of you.
-Joker would still carry you to bed if you were to fall asleep on the couch, or in their bed, even when you were a teenager. He also would tuck you in and when you woke up, you always found a red lipstick shape on your head. It was proof of the rare affection your father would show.
-Harley always let you dye your hair crazy colors, and she would do your makeup and nails whenever she had free time.
-When you were 17 you became the new villain of Gotham. Of course your parents had no idea, and you never planned on them finding out.
-That was until your father ran into you while on a heist. His normal smile feel as he growled deeper then he ever had, “Car…now”
-When you got home your father called for Harley and told her everything. Harley just smiled and gave you a high five, for keeping up the family name. Joker was furious.
-So he accepted the fact that you were now a villain, and soon started inviting you on his heist,
-Even though both of your parents were certifiably insane, and the most wanted couple in Gotham, you would have wanted no one else in the city to be your parents.
FP Jones/Andrews Family/Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 1
AN: It’s so awkward when nearly the whole fandom is in love with the teenage boys on the show and I’m over here obsessing over the DILFs and the girls of the show. So I wrote this to see who else adores the daddies of Riverdale. This will be a series so stick around for more if you love this serpent as much as I.
Summary: You’re Archie’s old sister and you have a thing for a certain serpent
Pairing: Reader x FP Jones, Sister!Reader x Archie Andrews, Daughter!Reader x Fred Andrews
Word count: 1,967
Warnings: Well, FP is clearly older than the reader in this fic, none really
It all started when you were younger. Jughead’s Dad came over one night to talk to Jughead. Jughead was round for a sleepover with your younger brother Archie and FP came round because he had some news, about what, you didn’t know. But what you did know was in that moment you realised you were utterly attracted to your younger brother’s best friend’s Dad. That was the moment you knew you were screwed.