and the first thing arthur asks him is 'where have you been'

the-queen-sees-all  asked:

I was wondering, what if Harry and Hermione had met before Hogwarts?

The first time Harry Potter met Hermione Granger, she was standing with her chin up and her hands on her hips a few paces from the old olive tree in the schoolyard, glaring into the far distance. The wind was trying to twist and buffet her hair into her face, but mostly it was just tangling cheerfully with itself.

Dudley and Piers were busy kicking all the other kids off the play structure, so Harry had retreated out into the grass. He stood a safe distance from the weird girl who was pretending to be a statue and thought wistfully of lunch.

“There’s a fallen bird’s nest,” the girl said in a rapid and certain tumble of syllables. “The boys knocked it out of the tree, but I chased them off and I’m hoping the mama bird comes back. I’m Hermione Granger. We just moved here.”

“Harry,” he said.

“How’d you get that scar?” she said.

“Car accident.”

“That’s a weird scar for a car accident.”

Harry shrugged. “It killed my parents.”

She blinked quickly at him and even at that distance he wished vaguely that she wore glasses, too, because her gaze was something that really felt like it should have some built-in bluntedness. “Mine are dentists. Mum’s taking me to the library after school, want to come?”

-

Before they went into Diagon Alley, Harry asked Hagrid if they could find a payphone. Hermione picked up on the first ring.

“Harry! Where have you been? I’ve been trying and trying to call–”

“Sorry, yeah. Um, so, I’m not coming back to school next year, I…” Harry drifted off, staring at Hagrid’s massive moleskin shoulders. The giant man saw him looking and gave him a tentatively cheerful little wave. “It’s been weird, Herm.” He pressed his forehead into the phone stand, but not too hard. “I think you’re the only thing I’m really going to miss.”

“Harry,” Hermione said and Harry started to frown, because that wasn’t her stern and startled voice. That was the voice that meant she was off down a charging war path of other thought and might not have heard him at all. “I’ve been reading.”

“Of course you’ve been reading,” he said. “I’ve been being forcibly hidden from a swarm of post office owls–”

“You’re in books,” she said in breathless delight, squeaking over the telephone line. “First thing we did, of course, after the professor explained, was get her to escort us to a bookstore– a whole bibliography, Harry, a whole world’s bibliography I haven’t even touched– how am I ever going to–” She took in a little calming breath, and murmured, “Different infinities, it’s okay, Hermione, okay.” A sharp exhale and then she tumbled right back into her rushing rivelet of a sentence. “And I picked up a good dozen, besides the school books, of course, and Harry, you’re in books, in Dark Wizardwork of This Century and A Modern Wizards’ History and October’s End: A Biography–”

“Hermione,” said Harry with slow enunciation. “Are you a wizard, too?”

“A witch, I think,” she said. “But I’m still reading up on the sociology of it all.”

-

Hagrid wouldn’t say Voldemort’s name, but Hermione would. She came over with a stack of books up to her chin, gave the Dursleys her normal pointed little stare that said she’d like to set them a little on fire, and curled up in his cupboard with him.

He supposed she probably could learn how to set them on fire, now, if she really wanted to.

She gave him passages and excerpts with his name in them, with his parents’ names, a home he hadn’t known. There were pictures of a ruined house with the smoke drifting in little curls of ink. There was his mother, smiling and waving in black and white. There was his mother, laid out on the floor, with a sober little caption below it. That picture was still, except for curtains fluttering in the window.

Hermione finally dragged her face far enough up from the pages to see Harry holding his own hand very tightly, and then she closed the book and reached for one about which magical creatures you should pet and which you shouldn’t.

“Sorry,” she said.

“I wanted to know.”

“I’m still sorry.”

-

The Grangers drove Harry, Hermione, Hedwig, and their trunks to King’s Cross Station. Mrs. Granger kissed the top of Hermione’s head while Mr. Granger mussed Harry’s mop of dark hair affectionately, and then they swapped children and repeated the treatment. Hermione pushed her hair back out of her face and marched them all to Platform 9 ¾, the entrance mechanism of which she had read all about.

“Before you go,” Mrs. Granger said, “let’s buy you some sandwiches? I don’t know what sort of food they’ll have past that–”

“There’s a trolley,” Hermione said, but her parents dragged them off to a snack kiosk anyway, Harry happily in tow.

As they were on Hermione’s tight schedule, there were plenty of compartments open, and they took one all to themselves– well, to themselves, Hedwig, and Hermione’s books, which took up two seats. (Harry would wheedle Hagrid into taking him to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping that year, where he would get Hermione a carry-all bag for her small personal library.)

Hermione took a long preparatory breath while Harry unwrapped his sandwich. “Harry? What if I go and sit down under the Hat and I just sit and sit there, and then it says I’m not a witch at all?” Hermione said, the words getting more squashed together and higher-pitched as she went. “I’m not magic, it just got confused, and they send me home? Harry, I don’t want to be a dentist. Other people’s mouths are disgusting–”

“You’re not going to get kicked out,” Harry said, chewing amiably on his sandwich. It was not good, but the Dursleys hadn’t bothered with any breakfast for him and he hadn’t wanted to bother the Grangers about it either. It was a bit dry on the way down, but it settled warmly in his belly.

“But what if I do?”

“I’ll stage a protest,” said Harry. “Refuse to do my homework til they reinstate you.”

“You’re not going to do your homework anyway.”

“See how dedicated I am to you.”

She made a dismissive little noise at him, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Hermione,” he said, and she lifted her bush of hair to look at him. “You’re the most magical person I know. It’s gonna be alright.”

She gave a long slow blink but whatever she might have said was interrupted by an uneven knock at the door. “Um,” said the pudgy boy standing there. “I’ve lost my toad.”

Hermione leapt to her feet. “Where did you see him last?”

Harry followed in the wake of her forward charge, but he brought the rest of his sandwich with him.

-

(Harry did not know this and would not know this until Mrs. Granger mentioned it casually over a Christmas dinner years and years later– but she and Mr. Granger reported the Dursleys for child abuse and neglect, over and over.

The reports got lost– minds scrubbed down, papers vanished– but they kept calling in reports. They considered kidnapping. They couldn’t imagine why the wizarding world might want to keep their chosen one somewhere so toxic, why they might want to keep this underfed child and his messy hair with those people.

“My mother left me a blood protection spell,” said Harry, whose scar had not ached in years. He poked at his mashed potatoes under the focused attention of Mrs. Granger’s stern little forehead wrinkle. “I had to live with family, blood family.”

“Then they should have made them treat you right,” Mrs. Granger said, as though it was that simple.

Mr. Granger gave Harry another helping of peas.)

-

On the steps of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy thrust out his hand to the Boy Who Lived, who surveyed the open palm with amusement. “Thanks,” said Harry. “But I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself.”

The redheaded, freckly, hand-me-down clothes boy Malfoy had been bothering snorted. Harry slipped his hands into his pockets.

“You’re the kid with the rat from the train,” Hermione said. “And the spell that didn’t work.”

“It was a cool rhyme anyway, though,” Harry said. “Hi, I’m Harry, this is Hermione.”

“Yeah, she said, then. I’m Ron– uh, Ron Weasley.”

“Yeah, he said,” Harry said, rolling his eyes Malfoy’s direction. “Come on, you wanna stand with us? Hermione will tell you about the ceiling.”

“It’s enchanted!” said Hermione.

-

When Hermione founded SPHEW, Harry was not surprised. He had spent too many schoolyard days escorting spiders to safe spaces, keeping vigil over fallen bird’s nests, and watching Hermione stand up on her desk chair in heated pitched verbal battles with teachers. She’d driven at least two teachers to tears and taught most of them at least a few new vocabulary words.

-

Over summers and holidays, Harry and Hermione took Ron to the movies, to the seashore, to Hermione’s top three favorite libraries. Hermione’s Aunt Meg taught them how to whittle under a cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to Harry’s hair until he washed it out.

In this life, there were things in the Muggle world that Harry missed, that he wanted to see again. He loved Hogwarts, and he nominally went home to the Dursleys each summer, but he knew he always had a bed at the Grangers’. He knew the weird system they used to organize the books on their shelves. He’d pass Mrs. Granger the marmalade in mornings before she had to ask. He got free dental check-ups all his life, which was good because the Dursleys rarely bothered taking him into the dentist.

The whole Granger family tore apart newspapers every morning, calling article excerpts across the table and pointing each other to their favorite journalists. Before Hermione even first stepped onto Hogwarts grounds she got a subscription to the Daily Prophet. During Harry’s fourth year, Mr. and Mrs. Granger got Arthur Weasley to buy them an owl and then began an unending campaign of furious letters to the editor that never got published.

-

In a crumbling boat shed, Severus Snape died, but first he pressed a shining bundle of memory into Harry’s hands.

The fight was still going– Neville newly broad and certain; Luna whipping out quiet, barbed little curses; Ginny charging like an army in and of herself. Hermione had her arms full of basilisk fangs. Ron was moving people like bishops and knights. But Harry had a long damp walk before him, so he had time to wade through that life not his own.

Severus had been a lot of things– one of them was in love. Harry dragged his feet through forest mulch, seeing a little redheaded girl in sunlight, hands not his own offering her transformed flowers. It had been just them for so long. For Severus, for so long, there had been no one but him and Lily.

Even in Hogwarts, Severus had drifted through the classrooms and common room and library. He had believed in magic, in the cool slide of good knives through dried roots, and in Lily– always, always in Lily– Lily in sunlight, Lily chewing on her thumbnail over Transfiguration homework, Lily flicking soapsuds at him in her kitchen at home over summer, Lily pig-tailed and seven, wide-eyed as he showed her the first magic she’d ever seen, a leaf to a flower, a bit of sunlight to a bit of fire.

He had loved, and it had been a real thing. He had fucked up, and it had been a real thing, that heartbreak, that regret.

When Harry turned the Stone in his hand and saw his mother step into pseudo-life in that forest clearing, he thought I wish I’d known you. He thought about how she was in sepia and gray, here, just like in the pictures in the pages of Hermione’s books.

But he was also thinking about Severus. He was remembering Lily in sunlight, remembering her walking away, remembering her in that same cold photographed sprawl but in color–in grief–in bruised knees and heaving gasps.

Severus had been the first to find Lily’s body and it had felt like someone had cut the sunlight out of him. Harry was living through that grief, but he was also living through the wail of the child crying unacknowledged. His tiny pudgy hands were wrapped around the guardrail of his crib.

Harry was thinking about a girl standing in a field like a statue, hands on hips. He was thinking about Hermione’s raised hand ignored in Potions, or the way Snape had sneered that he didn’t see a difference in her cursed teeth. Love had made him brave, perhaps. It had killed him, but it had not made Severus good.

Harry wondered if his mother would have escorted spiders to safe places, if she would have stood guard over fallen bird’s nests, if she had worried herself to pieces that first time on the Hogwarts Express about the Hat telling her she didn’t really belong.

“I wish I’d known you,” he told the specter of Lily Potter. He held his own hands tight.

For Harry, for so long, there had been no one but him and Hermione. Even in Hogwarts, there were things only she would understand– parking meters, the cobweb ceiling of his cupboard, the silence of marmalade at breakfast. Harry believed in magic and he believed Hermione Granger was the most magical thing he knew.

“They’ll be alright,” he said. “I’ll be alright. I was alright, mum. I wish I’d known you– but I wasn’t alone.” He squeezed his hands tighter– Hermione showing him her favorite spots in her favorite libraries; Ron shyly showing them the Burrow like it was anything less than a magnificent masterpiece of warm rooms and patchwork architecture; Hermione standing in the field like a statue, bushy-haired and seven years old, jaw set. “She wasn’t alone, either,” he said. “And she’ll be alright. Ron will be alright. I have to do this, don’t I?”

“We are so proud of you,” Lily said.

“Thanks,” said Harry. “Sorry,” said Harry, and wondered if Hermione was going to be able to read the little passages and excerpts with his name in them, with those un-moving pictures and the sober captions underneath.

He dropped the Stone.

-

When Harry Potter died for the first time, crumpled in forest mulch, he didn’t go to a squeaky clean King’s Cross Station. There were no crescent moon glasses to twinkle kindly at him.

He stood under an old olive tree and a little girl looked up at him with those eyes that needed shielding, needed blunting, needed a manufacturer’s warning. “A wind’s coming,” she said. “You can just go. It will be easy.”

He stood outside Diagon Alley, a Muggle payphone tucked between his shoulder and ear. “You’re in books,” she said, with a breathlessness he’d barely heard for years. There had been too much weight on his shoulders, on hers. “You’re done,” she said. “You’ve done enough. Go on, tap three bricks up and two to the left.”

He stood in Godric’s Hollow, in the snow, holding her hand, looking at the ruined house. “You should have had this,” she said. She was seven and small, not nineteen and weary like she had been in life. The sky was overcast but there was sunlight glinting in her hair. “You can still have this. You can have everything.”

“You’re not real,” Harry said.

“But you are,” she said. “There’s a wind coming. It will be easy.”

“You’ve never done anything easy in your life,” he said.

She took both his hands– hers were so small against his grown fingers, his broad palms, and how had they done everything with hands that small? Basilisks and werewolves; shouting down teachers from atop desk chairs.

Harry was sitting in his cupboard in the light of its single bulb and he was too big for this space, his shoulders curling forward, his head bowing. She was standing there with sunlight still in her hair and her arms piled high with books. “You don’t belong here,” she said. “It will hurt. You won’t fit, if you go back. Everything can be easy. Everything can be fine. It doesn’t have to hurt, ever again.”

“Hermione,” he said and leaned forward, put his hands on her hands where they were gripping her books. “It’ll be alright.” He smiled and she was staring at him with those eyes, those goddamn eyes. “We never fit, remember?”

“We tried,” she said and Harry squeezed her small hands gently.

“Send me back,” he said. “I want to go home.”

-

After the battle, as Hogwarts rang with frantic healing, crushing grief, and raging celebration, the three of them retreated to the library. Hermione hauled them down narrow aisles until she found her favorite tucked-away nook and they all collapsed on sagging sofas that seemed to not have been touched at all by the war.

“Well,” said Hermione. “What now?”

Ron let his head flop back against the seat, hair tumbling all over his pale forehead. “I’m going to nap,” he said. “For a month.”

“That’s not physiologically possible,” said Hermione. “Or if it is, then it’d be a coma.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Ron said, then: “no, wait, a hyperbole.” Hermione beamed at him. He blushed a little and elbowed her gently.

“After this, you’ll be in books, you know,” Harry told her.

“Not– I mean–” Hermione rubbed at her nose furiously. Ron laughed enough to wake up and sit up, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

While Ron came up with outlandish titles for Hermione’s eventual many biographies, Harry pulled his feet up onto the sofa. He watched the candles float quietly between the shelves.

//takes a deep breath

ARTHUR WEASLEY IS ONE OF THE MOST UNDERRATED CHARACTERS IN THE SERIES AND CERTAINLY THE MOST UNDERRATED OF HARRY’S FATHER FIGURES ok this man:

  • is so passionate about his job and supporting muggle rights that he doesn’t give two shits abt his reputation as a blood traitor even tho it’s apparently the reason he never got promoted at the ministry
  • wrote the book on why u should not enchant muggle objects and literally has a shed full of flying vehicles and shit that he hopes his wife doesn’t find out about??? lmao what a rebel?? i love this guy
  • was concerned about harry before he even met him because ron was worried that he wasn’t responding to letters and when harry came to stay he totally could have been like ‘shit another mouth to feed’ but was really really happy that harry was there and safe??? ‘pls sit next to me at dinner, child, i need to ask you ten thousand questions about muggles’
  • like he was actually the first adult ever besides maybe hagrid to sit there and ask for harry’s opinions and recognize that he had knowledge and thoughts to offer im crying
  • fixed harry’s glasses for him after they broke in the floo ;-;
  • gave zero fucks about what everyone else thought should be done and told harry about sirius black bc he wanted this kid to be aware and safe as possible??
  • dragged the dursleys for not treating their nephew like a human being (and destroyed their living room what a great moment tbh)
  • gives advice that harry remembers years later bc he respects this kind ginger man so much ‘don’t trust something that can think for itself if u can’t see where it keeps its brain’
  • (lol remember that one time molly was upset about death eaters at the quidditch world cup and he made her some tea and then was like ‘i think this needs some whiskey too trust me i’m a doctor’)
  • agreed that harry should be told certain things about the resistance because he knew harry was competent and intelligent enough to handle it but like also kept in mind that harry was a kid in the middle of a war
  • took harry to work with him and made sure he got to his hearing on time and distracted him and ‘smiled at him encouragingly’ when he knew he was nervous im dying this was so sweet
  • was part of the group who threatened the dursleys to keep their hands and shitty attitudes away from harry and he was so ‘light’ and ‘pleasant’ abt it omg this dude was throwing so much shade
  • was ready to fight scrimgeour with remus when the minister wanted to get harry alone and harry had to be like ‘omfg stand down pls’
  • ‘am i about to discover where you, ron, and hermione disappeared to while you were supposed to be in the back room of fred and george’s shop?’ … ‘how did you-?’ …  ‘harry, please. you’re talking to the man who raised fred and george’
  • never raised his voice except for that one time he told a fully trained auror to back the hell off and get out of his way so he could see his injured son and harry literally thought ‘holy shit’ it says so right there in the book u can check
  • fought in the battle of hogwarts and after fred and harry had been killed he went into full on rage mode and teamed up with percy to fuck up the minister for magic
  • owns chickens

bonus: 

‘madame delacour glided forward and stooped to kiss mrs. weasley too. “enchanteé,” she said. “your ‘usband ‘as been telling us such amusing stories!” mr. weasley gave a maniacal laugh; mrs. weasley threw him a look, upon which he became immediately silent and assumed an expression appropriate to the sickbed of a close friend.’

anonymous asked:

Hi! New around here... May I ask what do you like about Madancy? Mads sure seems to fancy Mr. Dancy, Hugh.. not so much )=

My dear sweet baby fannibal, I need to stop you right there. 

Since you say you’re new, I’ll help you out.

“Well, it came about because one of the things that was very important was that Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter have a likeability, not only on screen but with each other. The fact that Hugh Dancy and Mads Mikkelsen are very good friends in real life cinched the deal, in my mind. That was important because I knew it was going to translate to screen. We wanted the audience to like these two men liking each other.” — Bryan Fuller on how he ended up casting Mads Mikkelsen (x)

“Hugh Dancy was the first actor cast and that made the project all that more appetizing for Mads Mikkelsen, who knew Hugh and worked with him in the past and rightfully adored him.— Bryan Fuller (x)”

“Me and Hugh (Dancy) were two of the knights (in King Arthur). So we were sitting for half a year on horseback and we became friends way back then. It’s just been a gift. We’re doing a show like this where you’re working so close together. It’s nice to be comfortable with each other, and that was just a gift that it turned out to be me and Hugh”— Mads Mikkelsen 

“Mads is a remarkable combination of things. He’s more than capable of fighting for what he wants. He’s amazing.”— Hugh Dancy

“Well obviously what I’m going to miss is just sitting down in a chair and having chit-chats with Hugh Dancy.” — Mads Mikkelsen on Hannibal S3 (x)

“It’s great. The very first time we sat down, talked about the show, Mads came up at the conversation. I worked with Mads nine years ago now on ‘King Arthur’. Completely different. Could not be more different. But during that period I got to know him and really like him. As a man as an actor. And had followed his career ever since then. I knew it was going to be great. That relationship is so complicated and interesting. It has to be believable. That’s one of the highlights of the show for me.” — Hugh Dancy

“So, spending that much time with a fellow actor, as I knew I would do with Hugh, it was just a fantastic gift that we knew each other. We are not only in the room, but to a degree, we have to be emotionally naked in certain situations.” — Mads Mikkelsen spoke about friendship with Hugh and cast (x)

(Mads Mikkelsen from Red Dragon Con, post)

(Hugh Dancy, The Path interview, post)

He’s worked with the actor Hugh Dancy previously and agrees that such a genuine friendship lends something special to their on screen relationship. “It was a great gift for both of us, that we were able to spend some much time together on the show. We were kind of in a boat of insecurity from the beginning, but it was nice to have a friend there, if you go down or you stay up. To be able to be comfortable with someone in a room, day in, day out of filming, 12 hours a day, was an extreme gift for both of us. We found a way of working together really fast. Hopefully I’ll get to spend time with him during the third season as well, but if not I’ll just have to go drink some beers with him!” — Mads Mikkelsen (x)

“I would say an actor like Mads, but there aren’t any, there’s just Mads.” — Hugh Dancy during the SAG Foundation interview (x).

And finally:

“Collaboration with Mads, who I love, who’s a wonderful actor and incredible partner in that respect “ — Hugh Dancy on what the show means to him

Hugh has become one of my very, very, very good friends. We knew each other from before, but it’s been so intense to spend three seasons together. I was there when he had his first little baby. It’s been a fantastic journey. We were just very, very lucky that we ended up with each other. Imagine if we had ended up with someone we didn’t like.” — Mads Mikkelsen (post)

Mads Mikkelsen and Hugh Dancy are friends. I’m not sure where you got the impression that they aren’t or that one dislikes the other.

Mads likes Hugh. 

Hugh likes Mads. 

They’re friends.

And their amazing chemistry and friendship (and various aesthetic reasons) is why I ship the fleet of ships that belong to Hugh and Mads and their characters.

So, after all of this, if you’re interested in some more Mads and Hugh liking each other and goofing around together goodies, check out my tag ‘danish crumpet’.

“She should cut her nails” - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary : The men of the Justice League tease Batman about the scratches on his back, and the love bites on his chest…Bruce is not amused.

Just a silly fic cause why not. Wrote it in literally fifteen minutes because I was bored, and didn’t proofread (as usual really) so it’s quite meh, hope you’ll still like it though :

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

I wrote some sort of part two to this, it’s here if you’re interested : “Bruce…sucks !”

__________________________________________________

Bruce could feel their gaze on his back. He knew they were smiling like idiots behind him, and he heard them giggle a few times, like goddamned teenagers.

He finally turned around to face his fellow Justice League members, that had been staring at him for the past hour. They were in the men shower room of the headquarter, and the fact that they were all half-dressed made them look even more ridiculous, with their idiotic smile on their faces.

Hell, even J’onn was snickering with them ! Bruce would expect from Clark, Oliver, Barry and maybe Arthur to laugh like nitwits, but J’onn ? He thought he was better than this.

And yet, here he was, grinning at the Batman like a moron.

-What ?

Bruce asked a bit coldly, even though he already knew what was going on.

Clark answered, a sly smile on his stupid handsome face :

-We were just wondering…When did you got those scratches on your back ? Like, which villain inflicted you such terrible wounds ?

Bruce rolled his eyes. By now, Barry and Oliver couldn’t hold their laughter, though the look the Bat gave them stopped them cold in their track. Damn that man could be intimidating, even for them…Bruce, glaring at them, went on :

-Are you guys fifteen ?

Keep reading

America+England Relationship Analysis

I can’t believe myself… writing up a really in-depth analysis of APH America & APH England’s cannon relationship. Kind of addresses the England and America being related subject, blows holes through it, actually.  

Keep reading

The first time they say they love you...

Summary: A little headcanon on how would be the first time these HP characters say they love you, the reader.

Remus Lupin

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

These three little words had more meaning to Remus than any other word had, to him, they held so much power and emotion he couldn’t just say them to anyone at any time. He had to think it through, was it really worth it put someone’s life in danger, your life in danger, just because his heart was completely drawn to you? He had to be certain that he could protect you and that you would be safer by his side than by yourself, that you were really indeed happier when he was present. He had to be sure you weren’t just infatuated with each other, and yes, truly, in love. And it was on this particular day that he was sure. You were inside Honeydukes in complete awe with all the sweets available, hands full of Chocolate Frogs and pixie puffs, you looked at all sides trying to find sweets enough to take some back to your friends and Remus couldn’t help the feeling he had looking at you, so he simply smiled and said “I love you”. Sure you dropped all the chocolate on the floor and breathed a shaky “W-what?” at your boyfriend’s sudden realisation, but he said it again with all the conviction in the world, receiving an ecstatic kiss and a very sweet “I love you too, Moony.” just right back.

Sirius Black

Originally posted by totallybenbarnes

Sirius was the opposite, the words never meant much to him. They held no power to him, in his logic to prove love was to show love. His way to say “I love you” was by saying “take care of yourself” and “be safe”, it was waking up during the night just to see if you weren’t having any nightmares and it was making you your favourite tea and read you a book when you where indeed having them. It was giving you his jumper whenever you forgot yours and spend the entire day in the library with you even if he disliked being there. But when Sirius realised that those words meant something to you, he would hold your face and say “I’m sorry I don’t say this as much as I should but I do love you, sweetheart, I really do, so much.” and would press his lips on yours passionately, surprised because differently from the other times he had spoken those little words, they this time, held more meaning than they had ever done, and ever since that day he would say it often to remind you that he truly, utterly, completely loved you.

James Potter

Originally posted by bobdillpickle

James, for a long time, thought those words were silly. He had convinced everyone and even himself that he didn’t believe in that magical cheesy love he easily found on muggle’s romances. It was when he met you that he started changing his mind, it was when you rejected him so many times before accepting to go out with him that he understood that it was possible to hurt from love. It was only when you pressed your silky soft lips on his that he understood what the ‘butterflies’ were and he felt stupid for not believing his friends when they said all that unbelief towards love would backfire. But it was when you were taking a stroll around the Hogwarts’ lake during the winter that he felt the necessity to say those words, it was when you looked at the sky in utter happiness as you felt the first freezing snowflakes falling on your face, frosting your cheeks, it was when you smiled at the sight of snow that you grabbed James’ hands and twirled like a small child during Christmas, it was when you whispered “Snow!” like it was pure magic that he let those words escape his lips, and they escaped so easily, so smoothly that the smile on your face convinced him that love was the best thing in the world.

Teddy Lupin

Originally posted by imaginesforlifetime

To Teddy it was relative, he never felt like saying it, it didn’t really matter to him. Even when you started dating, he said it every once in a while that he was in love with you, but never that he loved you. After all, they had a difference and it saddened you a little bit that he would never say it, maybe he wasn’t sure you were the one for him, maybe he was just infatuated? Maybe he didn’t love you? You were a bit let down to be in all honesties, you had been dating for almost two years and he had never said it, not even once, but perhaps that was just his way of being. So you thought that it wasn’t worth confronting him about it, you’d just try to let it go. But on this specific Friday during Summer, you were spending a week with the Potters, and Teddy asked you to dye his hair bubblegum pink. And you agreed, you spread the dye through every soft lock as he sat on a chair in front of a mirror, you noticed he was staring at you through it. You were quietly doing your job, humming one of the lullabies you used to sing for your little siblings, focusing on his hair but the staring wouldn’t stop and when you met his eyes he was trying to hold a smirk. “What are you staring at, Lupin?” you asked raising an eyebrow, “You, (Y/L/N)” he replied, not holding back his infamous smirks. “And why’s that?” “Because you’re stunning and I love you.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You do?” You heart had nearly stopped, he had said it, he had freaking said it for Merlin’s sake. “I do, (Y/N), very much.” He said smiling at you. “Well, I-I love you too, Teddy.”

James Sirius Potter

Originally posted by prince-ezra-miller

James had a little taste for some of the muggle stuff, his grandfather Arthur Weasley had taught him all he knew about them and even allowed him to borrow his muggle car. One day during summer, when James was talking to you on the phone, you mentioned you had had a fight with your family about some specific grades, that you were really upset and he immediately told you to get ready because he was going to pick you up for a ride, it would make you feel better. He asked his granddad if he could lend him his car to rescue you and soon drove to your house, where you waited sitting on the doorstep, cleaning some of your tears and smiling at the sight of him. You entered the car and he immediately hugged you, you stayed like that for a minute or so, just being close to each other and enjoying the feeling of being in each other arms. “Thank you, James, for taking me away from here.” He kissed your forehead, shaking his head and telling you to put the seat belt on as he started driving. After what felt like ten minutes on the road you opened the window and looked out on it, the comfortable wind refreshing your soul and drying all your tears, your hair flowing backwards as you smiled in contentment. You felt pure bliss, and so did he. James almost couldn’t believe himself on how alluring, sweet and kind you were and how you deserved to be with someone who would love you entirely and make you happy. And in that moment, he knew he wanted to be that person. And as you opened all the windows so the wind would flow through the entire car and you laid your head on his shoulder, he whispered only for you to hear, even though no one was around, “I love you, (Y/N)”. You lifted your head in ecstasy, smiling big, kissing his cheek slowly, “I love you too, Potter.”

Albus Severus Potter

Now Albus would let it slip during a heated fight, he would be so pissed, so furious that all his shy, conserved demeanor would just vanish right away in front of your eyes, he was your best friend and he was exhausted of seeing you giving your all to people who didn’t care for you and ended up tearing your heart apart. He would be so angry at the thought of your heart breaking again in careless hands when he could take such good care of you he would just let it slip, “You just give yourself away to assholes with infinitely lower IQs than yours and end up completely shattered, you don’t deserve this and you hate this feeling yet you always go back to it.” He shouted, “I hate seeing you like this, it’s the absolute worst feeling in the world and it hurts me even more that you keep putting yourself in harmful relationships when you could be with someone who would treat you well and look after you, someone who would love you more than anything in this world and make you happy.” And by that time, tears would be already escaping your eyes, trying senselessly to dry them with the sleeves of your jumper. “Yeah, like who? Who would love me?” You’d scream back. “Me, (Y/N)! I would, I do, so please just stop doing this to yourself and let me love you.” He’d say quietly, his shyness getting the best of him once again, anger long gone by now. And you’d jump in his arms, hiding your face on his chest as tears could not be held any longer. For the first time, you felt like things would be okay and love would finally be kind to you.

Scorpius Malfoy

Originally posted by luckybluegifs

You went on a Quidditch game, your house against Slytherin, you didn’t have anything against them, specially since you were dating one, but after that one Slytherin asshole hid all your belongings around the school, ridiculed your house and your friends it became all personal, and you wanted nothing more than your house to crush him and his team. Scorpius was a caring and protective boyfriend, but when it came to Quidditch you guys had agreed you’d cheer for your respective houses and never, ever argue about it. And as you watched the game, booing that shithead and rooting for your house as loud as you could, Scorpius watched you silently from the other side of the field, he observed your clothes all colored in respect for your house and how you laughed and cheered as your house scored. You looked so radiant and so beautiful in that moment, sticking up for your house and yourself, he didn’t know what came into him but when he realised what he was doing he already was in your house’s side of the field in the grandstand and his arms were wrapped around your waist. “What are you doing here?” You asked kissing his cheek, ecstatic to see him but confused since you’d agreed when games like that happened you wouldn’t talk about it or go together, to avoid fights. “I came to root for my girl and her house, no shithead has the right to do this to the girl I love.” “Even if he’s from your house?” “Even if he’s from my house. He’ll be hearing from me afterwards.” He said throwing an annoyed look at the boy, who stared at both of you. You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him right there, your friends cheered for you and let loud “awww”s as he pressed his body against yours, deepening the kiss. “I love you too, Malfoy.”


A/N: Hope u enjoy this sweets, x

Masterlist // Writing Schedule

i should have written this goddamn show
  • it’d be on hbo so swearing and topless people,,,, the anti game of thrones
  • confirmed gay merlin + morgana
  • bisexual gwaine + arthur
  • at some point gaius has a bong on his table and no one says anything about it
  • uther married morgana off to some nobleman and they’re best friends!! they love each other in a super platonic way and high five a lot and he helps with the nightmares and they just love each other okay
  • he’s also a knight in arthur’s inner circle
  • a little of gwen and merlin talking about boys
  • servants can read/write, but it’s at least explained
  • eric the stable boy™ (merlins ex boyfriend, season 2)
  • also merlin taught morgana magic and she’s not evil; she works closely with her brother as an advisor and a knight
  • there are dogs
  • a lot of platonic hugs and “i love you’s”
  • a different antagonist
  • gwaine kisses merlin at sometime like its normal (they’ve been seeing each other)
  • leon marries some awesome noblewoman sometime during season 3 and arthur is the best man and everyone loves her
  • ancient rome gets at least a mention
  • leon and his wife get pregnant
  • lowkey percival and gwaine are together
  • arthur and gwen talk after lancelot is in camelot for good and decide they don’t work
  • feMALE KNIGHTS
  • “wine and cheese club” they get drunk and talk about their problems; basically just gwaine and percival giving relationship advice to merlin and whomever
  • gwaine knows™
  • morgana blushes and smiles at cute girls
  • merlin has the mouth of a sailor
  • roman catholic church
  • mithian gets married and he’s a perfect gentleman who loves her and she’s so happy, (they stay in camelot for a few episodes)
  • sometime during season 4 they do monty python and the holy grail
  • sometime also during season 4, they’re in the woods and arthur is split from the group for some reason and bandits attack and he watches the whole thing and sees merlin using magic; he’s not angry, just hurt
  • arthur gives merlin ygraine’s ring + merlin is seen with it around his neck
  • “i bet you’d look cute grasping at the sheets of my bed” “no matter how many times you ask im not making your bed asshole”
  • arthur and gwen still get married and are best friends; although arthur is with merlin and gwen is with lance
  • gwen and lance have triplets!! and the triplets have four parents: the king, the queen, first knight and the king’s servant
  • sometimes merlin falls asleep in front of the fire and arthur has to carry him to bed
  • colin morgan in skinny jeans
  • ban on magic repealed
  • arthur suggests appointing merlin as court sorcerer and royal consort but merlin just smiles and says all he wants to be is his servant
  • epilogue where arthur/merlin and morgana and gwen/lance + all their kids!!! are having a picnic
Not a Kid - Tommy Shelby

Request: Could you write about Tommy Shelby falling in love with a younger reader? (in their early 20’s)?

Not A Kid Anymore - Tommy Shelby

You were sat in the kitchen of Polly’s house laughing as Isaiah recounted a story about he and Finn trying to pick up a couple of girls down at the pub two nights ago. You, Michael, and Finn were sitting around the table while Isaiah stood up, making hand motions and acting out the entire scene. You were all somewhat tipsy from a bottle of whiskey that Finn had brought with him. 

Growing up you’d always been closest to Ada. You were only four years her junior and your mother had been close with Polly. When Ada moved to London you continued to spend time with the Shelby family. Eventually you became friends with Michael and Isaiah though they were a few years younger than you. You got on well with John and Esme but Arthur and Tommy always treated you like a child. Arthur didn’t bother you so much as Tommy did.  

Keep reading

I've always been yours | Fred Weasley x reader

Requested

It was the day of Bill and Fleur’s wedding. You were wearing a little black dress that ended right above your knees, your hair was in a half updo. (Kinda like how Margaery Tyrell wears her hair) You walked downstairs, your heels clicking against the wooden floor with every step you took.
“Y/n you-you look beautiful.” Fred said in awe. You tried to hide the blush forming on your cheeks. “Thanks.” You said while looking at the ground. Form the first day you saw him you had had the biggest crush on him. Little did you know he felt the same.
The party was in bloom when all of a sudden Kingsley Shacklebolt’s Patronus appeared. It said that the Ministry of Magic had been concuered by Voldemort, who had killed the minister, and that Death Eaters were on their way.
Immediatly screams were heard, and people started pushing each other to get away.
Just as the patronus had said, Death Eaters started apparating into the crowd. You were running towards the exit when you tripped. You tried to get up but people ran over you and you felt their feet hit your head. Fred’s worried face was the last thing you saw before you lost consciousness.
Pain. That was the only thing you felt when you woke up. It seemed like Thor had hit you on the head with Mjolnir. You slowly opened your eyes to see a sleeping body on the couch next to you. You blinked a few times to get a clear view, finally seeing that it was Fred who was laying there. Taking in your surroundings you noticed you were in his room.
You slowly sat up, accidently waking Fred in the process.
“Oh god Y/n are you alright? I was so worried.” “Calm down Fred I’m alright.” “No you’re not, you could have died. You would have died not knowing how much I love you.” His eyes got big when he realized what he had said. “I-I mean-” You cut him of by crashing your lips on his. “I love you too.” His face broke into a smile as he reconnected your lips. One of his hands slipped under the shirt you were wearing, roaming your stomach. When you were sleeping someone had changed you out of your dress and into an oversized shirt. His hands found your bare breasts and started playing with your nipples. A gasp left your lips as he pinched one of them. One of his hands left your chest and slowly travelled down your body. He cupped your already leaking pussy before pushing your panties aside and slipping a finger into you. You moaned as he added a second one, curling them as he moved in and out of you. He used his thumb to draw circles on your clit. You quickly took of the shirt, wanting nothing more than to feel his skin against yours. He unbuttened his shirt, slowly sliding it off while you unbuckled his trousers, taking them of aswell. His hard erection pressed against your leg as he left a trail of kisses down your neck, down the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, and finally down to where you needed him the most. He took your panties of with his teeth, leaving hot kisses on the inside of your thigh when he came back up. He started kitty licking down your slid, only stopping to suck on your clit. You gasped as his tongue slipped inside of you. He laughed at you, sending vibrations through your body. Way too soon you felt the familiar knot in your stomach which announced the arrivel of your orgasm. When you reached your high he licked you clean before coming back up and kissing you, making you taste yourself. You removed his boxers and were ready to return the favour when he stopped you. “Just forget about me, tonight is all about you.” He said as he wrapped your legs around his waist, positioning his pulsing cock at your entrance. “Ready?” You nodded and felt him push himself into you, filling you up completely. He groaned as he started moving. Once you were used to the feeling of his large dick in your tight pussy you started moving your hips to meet his thrusts. “P-please Fred, f-faster.” “Whatever you want sweetheart.” He said as he obeyed your order. One of his hands was squeezing your ass while he used the other one to support him. “F-Fred I’m close.” “I know baby, me too.” His thrusts became sloppier, at the same time your walls clenched around him. “Let go, darling.” You did as he said, and together you reached both of your climaxes. He rolled of off you, pulling the covers over your sweaty bodies. “I love you so much Y/n, will you please be mine?” He asked, caressing your cheek. “Isn’t that question supposed to come before the sex?” You said, laughing slightly. He was about to answer when somebody else beat him to it. “Well that wasn’t the only thing that came to early tonight.” You turned your heads to see a smirking George in the doorway. “H-how long have you b-been standing there?” “Mate, I did not have to stand here to know what was going on. You two are pretty loud.” Your glare only made him laugh harder. “Just ignore him Y/n, now how about you answer my question.” You pecked his lips. “I’ve always been yours, Fred.”

- I know this isn’t exactly what you asked but I hope you still like it.

Requested by @samascara
Tommy falls in love with blind Reader.
Warnings: Fluff, Angst.
Hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is very much appreciated!


Note: I didn’t do much research for this Imagine, I also thought that in this time-period it would present more struggles for a blind person and their family than it would in today’s day and age. I figured the “reader” would need to have some sort of dependency on others – but also struggle with needing to be independent as well. Also, I kind of tried a weird point of view in this (I feel like it’s a little muddled but I tried to convey two inner monologues for two characters at the same time.)


***


You woke up to a loud commotion outside your window, screaming, shouting, some sort of loud engine, sirens and bells ringing urgently and steadily.


“Gilly?” You spoke up, feeling around the side of your bed for your walking stick. You felt for your sister in her bed, but only found the sheets and duvet to be empty – bed still made from this morning.


Gilly must have stayed out late dancing and drinking again. You shook your head and moved across the room to your door – but when you touched the door knob, a searing pain shot throughout your palm and fingers – causing you to let out a scream.


“GILLY?!” You yelled frightened, you couldn’t tell if you were bleeding or what even bit you. You put your uninjured hand against the door, an intense warmth enveloped it – you could only pick up the sounds of unknown objects shifting and shuffling on the other side of the door. It only took you a split second to realize that what you were hearing was furniture, walls and floorboard – crackling as the deathly heat began to overtake your flat.

Keep reading

Twists on an Old Tale

Anonymous asked: “I’m working on something where I am twisting Arthurian legend and I was wondering, how accurate do I have to make it to myth? I was thinking I could have characters in modern times reflect how ‘history isn’t always told correctly’ as a way to excuse my changes (such as the years Arthur was killed or when Merlin fought in a battle that drove him mad). Will this upset readers, or is this plausible enough of an excuse to allow them to maintain suspension of disbelief? How much is too much change?”

The answer I’d give you as a reader is change as little as possible. As a writer, though I’d say your story comes first. Make it good. The best thing is maybe to reconcile the two opinions. I suggest trying to keep everything as accurate to the original tale as possible and in the places where you cannot, either figure out a way to reference the original truth while still making it work for your plot. 

Keep reading

Choices - Part 2: I Bet My Life

Characters: Y/N (reader), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mich Davis, Arthur Ketch, Castiel, Garth and Beth Fitzgerald (mentioned)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: torture (not all that graphic), implied smut, secrets,

Word Count: 3900ish

A/N: This is 1 out of my 13 entries for @mamapeterson / @mrs-squirrel-chester’s Album Fanfiction Challenge where I chose the album “Smoke and Mirrors” by Imagine Dragons. The song prompt for this fic is: I Bet My Life

It is part two of a three part story - the two first fics are entries for the same challenge and the third is gonna be an entry for @plaidstiel-wormstache’s Push yourself challenge. The song I am writing for, for her challenge is also an Imagine Dragons song so their music is gonna be a theme throughout this series.

Thanks so much to always brilliant @blacktithe7 for betaing this for me.

MASTERLIST

You had lost track of time. You had no idea how long you had been in this white room with a single mirror on the far wall. You also didn’t care. You just stared defiantly at the mirror. You knew it was a window and the brits that had taken you were hiding behind it, plotting your fate. All you cared about was staying alive, staying the distraction for as long as it took for them to get far, far away. You would never tell them anything.

At first, the british guy with the weird beard had tried. He talked to you, asking you questions. You never answered. You just sat there staring at him, soaking up his every word without as much as flinching. He didn’t know anything. You had nothing to fear.

Well that wasn’t exactly true. What came after the first brit was another. Clean shaven, dead eyes, and with no empathy what so ever. He beat you with your hands tied behind your back, but you kept getting back up. You placed yourself back in the chair, looking defiantly back up at him, only to let out a painful scream when he jammed the needle into your neck with a cold grin on his face.

You slipped off the chair, passing out cold on the floor cold. You had no way of knowing how long you had been out for when you heard a familiar voice calling your name.

“Y/N. Hey, Y/N/N. Come back to me baby.” Dean gently stroked your hair away from your face, making you force your eyes open.

Keep reading

You are mine *smut*- John Shelby

Request// can I please have a John imagine, where you get jealous over something he says about another girl so you give him the silent treatment n he becomes really clingy and is begging you to talk to him. Thank you x

Request// Can you please do a John Shelby smut, where he is the dominant one? Where the reader teases him and he gets heavily frustrated. Thanks!!

*I love all the PB Boys but John is one of my favorites with his boyish charm❤️. Shoutout to @bonniebirdsgifcentre for the gif. Expect to see more of me on here, because it’s my Spring Break! Summer is not far away either so I will also be dedicating more time to writing after I finish exams. xoxox*

Masterlist


The weeks leading up to Tommy and Grace’s wedding had you questioning your own relationship with John. You admired his good looks and charm since you had been a young girl, but his comeliness was a double edged sword.The difficulty of beauty was when one knew they were beautiful.

It had happened multiple times, John flirting with other women of questionable decency, but the straw had finally broken the camel’s back right before the Shelby Wedding. You had decided to help Harry at the Garrison by picking up a couple shifts without telling John since you would most likely find him there anyways.

“How’s Y/N doing anyways,” you heard Arthur ask from inside the side room. You didn’t want to be sneaky and listen in on their conversation but it was hard to ignore as you swept and wiped down the counter.

“Fuckin’grouchy as  ever. Yelling in my ear from the time I get home to the time I leave again.” You had to hold back your disapproving grunt as you brows scrunched together. Of course John wouldn’t dar say any of that to your face, but he was all talk when he was ‘with the boys.’

“Thought you two been having problems, always arguing when you’re out together. All you need is a good fuck.”

“That’s the only thing I’ve not been getting from her. Maybe I’ll have to ask that new barmaid for some assistance,” he boasted. Your hands curled into fists and your body began to burn with anger. You knew the exact barmaid he was talking about and could grasp that she would be all too happy to ‘help’ John. You heard their chairs scrape the wood floors, knowing they’d be out there any moment.

“The blonde one?”

Keep reading

deancass-andeverythinginbetween  asked:

🎡👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨💍

“I’m still not entirely sure why this is a good idea.” Castiel looked at the large groups of people walking around, the sound of voices and music slowly flowing towards them as they stepped out of the Impala.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fun, I promise, alright?” Dean answered.

Castiel looked at the blonde as he walked over to him and held out his arm.

“Alright.” Cas smiled shyly, then locked his arm together with Dean’s.

He didn’t know how he got so lucky to be on his third date with Dean Winchester, the most handsome and sweetest guy in school. Dean was popular, Cas wasn’t, but Dean still showed interest in Cas since they got Latin together.

Keep reading

Just Say You Won’t Let Go (Fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes)

Word Count: 2370

Summary: Bucky recalls the night he met the reader, and the night he decided he wouldn’t let go.

Warnings: none

A/N: i hate bucky god DAMMIT WHY IS THIS MY LIFe (i don’t actually hate him u all know that though) inspired by that song by james arthur because i die when i listen to it. enjoy guys!!


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Request: Wonder woman x reader. Where WW is jealous which later leads to a love confession by Diana to her bff the reader. Thanks!

After watching Wonder woman last night I was all over this prompt.

I think I did it well.

—–

Diana wasn’t jealous. That is what she believed for such a long time. That was all about to change.

It had to be Barry. Being young he thought he hung the moon and that any woman that saw him would instantly fall under his spell. That woman today was (y/n).

*

“So (y/n) did it hurt?” Barry leans next to your desk.

“What are you talking about?” You stop your paper work.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

You cringe. Not this again.

“Look Barry I am very busy right now. Can this wait till later?”

He plucks the pen from the desk and turns it over in his hand.

“How about you promise to go with me to the party tonight and I will leave you alone.”

You sigh.

“If I say yes. You will honestly leave me alone to do my work?”

“Scouts honour.”

“Fine Barry Fine. I will go with you. Now please be so kind as to fuck off.”

“As you wish my lady.” He sped off throwing half your paper work on the floor.

“DAMN IT BARRY.”

Diana walked in seeing you struggle with picking up your paper work up off the floor. She rushes over to help.

“What happened?” She asks

“Barry happened.”

“That man needs to stop running about the place.” She picks up the last piece of paper and placing it on your desk.

“He wouldn’t be our Barry if he did that.” You sat back down.

“True.”

“What can I help you with Diana?”

“I was actually wondering if you were going to the party tonight.”

“I am.”

“Do you want to go together? I know how tedious Bruce’s parties can be.”

“As nice as that sounds I promised to go with Barry.”

“Oh.”

“Now come on he isn’t that bad. Sure, he thinks a lot of himself but he can be a sweet guy too. I will still see you at the party, right?”

Diana’s heart sunk but she smiled.

“Sure, I will be there. I could even do your hair for you if you would like?”

“I would love that. See this is why you are my best friend. I better get back to work or I won’t be able to go the party.”

Diana walks away but turns around before she reaches the door.

“(y/n) I don’t want you to go with Barry.”

“Why? What is wrong with Barry?”

“That is the thing. Nothing is wrong with Barry. I just . . . Never mind, forget I said anything.”

Before you could reply she was gone.

*

You finally finished your paper work. With a sigh, you get up and head to your room to get your dress on. With your make up done. You make your way to Diana’s room. When you open your door, you spy a note on the floor.

(y/n)

I had to help Bruce set up. Sorry I couldn’t do your hair.

Diana.

Oh well. You headed back into your room to fix your hair into a nice up do, then you text Barry you were ready. No sooner had you done that than Barry showed up at your door.

“Wow (y/n) you look great. Shall we?” He holds out his arm which you take.

Luckily for you he walks to the party. When you get there, it is already in full swing.

You scour the room but no sign of Diana. Barry races off to get you a drink. No sooner do you take a seat does Barry come back.

“Have you seen Diana?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I’m worried about her.”

“She might be on the balcony.”

You look to the balcony and see none other than Diana leaning over the railing with drink in hand.

“I need to go talk to her.”

“What about me?”

“No offense Barry but I don’t like you that way. I like women.”

Barry just laughs.

“Arthur owes me 20 bucks.”

“Men.” You sigh as you roll your eyes.

“Go talk to her.”

You got up and walked to the balcony. To Diana.

She turns when you get too close.

“Diana, we need to talk.”

“No, we really don’t.”

She goes to walk past you. You grab her arm. She stops and looks at you.

“Look we need to talk about before. There is something you aren’t telling me. Are we not best friends?”

You let go of her arm and she walks back to the railing.

“I don’t know how to start.”

“Start from the beginning.”

“I don’t think I have ever felt this way before.”

“What way?”

“I have never been jealous before. Jealous of a team mate no less. I have seen the way Barry looks at you. To be honest I have seen the way most of the guys on the team look at you and I hate it. You seem to like the way Barry looks at you. I don’t want to get in the way of your happiness but I must say this. I love you (y/n) I have since the first day I met you. I understand that you don’t feel the same way.” She turns to leave again.

“Diana wait.” She stops but doesn’t turn around. “You don’t want to leave before I tell you what I have to say.”

“I’m sorry how selfish of me please go ahead.” Diana turns to face you. You walk up to her and take her hands in yours.

“Diana, you have nothing to be jealous of. Barry and I are just friends. I only said I would go with him to make him leave my office. I wanted to go with you all along. Anyway, men aren’t really my division. I like you Diana. I really like you. Maybe more than I should like a woman and that is okay because that is who I am. You say you love me and I really like hearing that. I can’t say it back right away but over time I am sure the love will come. As I really care about you. I don’t know if I am making any sense or if I am rambling but I like you Diana I really do.”

Diana looks shocked but starts smiling.

“That is all I could ever ask of you. May I kiss you (y/n)?”

“I would like that.”

Diana pulls you in close with one hand and with the other she cups your cheek, leans in and kisses you softly.

“YES! Hey Arthur you owe me 40 bucks now.”

You both pull away to see Barry hovering by the balcony door. Both of you roll your eyes in sync and turn back to each other.

“This party sucks. Want to come over to mine and watch a cheesy rom com.” You say.

Diana smiles and says, “I would love to.”

——

I hope this was what you wanted anon.

Rant. Rant. Rant.

As much as I complain about consistency in this show the one area where A&E have truly stuck to their guns is insisting that a lifetime of struggle is the only way a female can be strong or that her main function is as a catalyst for the poor behavior of a man, sweeping crimes against the female characters under the rug, and retconning heroism for the undeserving.

The Wish Realm really served as a microcosm of all of these issues, all of them reflecting other more spread out examples in two hours of some of the most disgusting television I’ve ever seen.

First we have Emma, whose main lesson in this AU was apparently that her life experience of being repeatedly abandoned, left to her own devices, a life time of pain and hurt was the only thing that made her truly her. Without her Saviorness she was a vapid “singing princess” who sacrificed her entire kingdom to save the lives of her parents and it was only through the intense pain of their deaths that she “woke up” and found the strong woman within.

This is in contrast to Deckhand!Hook who via extremely similar circumstances was robbed of his major character traits, the bravery and determination that made him him, and was able to overcome that entirely on his own, without any terrible pain or sacrifice on his part, protecting a strange woman he was drawn to and her child was enough. But Emma had to actually witness the brutal murder of those she loved before she could undergo a similar transformation.

That’s just so…gross, to me? Firstly because there is nothing inherently wrong with being a “singing princess” yet there was nothing to indicate that she would have been strong and resilient regardless, only her experiences made her that way. So people who don’t know struggle can’t be strong? Girl’s who are more or less the real life version of the “singing princess” can’t rise to the occasion on their own merit when the situation calls for it? A man can be motivated by love to change and find his inner courage but a woman must always be motivated by pain? Sorry, I call foul.

Then there’s Belle, poor Pile of Bones!Belle who actually served more of a narrative function in the whole two hours than Killian did. Her entire purpose in that Wish Realm was to act as a reason for why Rumple would refuse to help Regina. Another in an unending line of women pointlessly killed to give a man motivation.

They could have kept her alive, could have made HER speak for herself, a wizened, tortured, hardened older version of Belle who asked Rumple not to help because of HER suffering, perhaps allowing Belle to finally have a spine and drop some truth bombs about Regina’s unrepentant treatment of her, but no way A&E would allow Rumple to be ordered around by a woman and unmanned in such a way and we certainly can’t talk about Regina’s crimes unless she’s having a crisis of confidence.

One the MOST consistent things about this show is the blatant disregard for crimes against female characters. Excepting Killian apologizing to Belle, and indicating he was trying to make it up to her, I can’t think of another time a man was held accountable for his actions against a female.

It’s not new, this has been going on for awhile. Arthur? Got a new kingdom, finally fulfilled his destiny for rifling through a few books and being a liability, but we never even HEARD from Guinevere again after her ENSLAVEMENT. She said goodbye and peaced out. Who knows what her mental condition is and she certainly never got to confront her husband for ENSLAVING HER.

Milah? Chucked into the River of Souls for daring to stand in Rumple’s way. Next episode Belle is saving his life and clutching at him. Everything cool here ya’ll. Never mentioned again. Will never BE mentioned again most like. Do the characters even know he did that? I can’t remember BECAUSE NO ONE CARED IF HE DID.

Neal and August send a pregnant Emma to jail?

Heroes! The biggest heroes there ever was.

August steals the money that might have prevented her from apparently continuing a life of crime, and he was just doing it for her own good!

Neal impregnated an underage girl and then has the audacity to be angry at her for not telling him, when it was HIM who made the decision to leave her. Well of course, that’s his right as a father!

Dude gets killed because of his own stupidity, but he’s celebrated and praised as a hero, a baby is even named for him! He contributed to what might be one of the darker periods of Emma’s life, the reason for her trust issues, but he’s just such a NORMAL guy you know? He gets a big ole portrait in the WishRealm and a heroes veneration because A&E just love their ordinary joe who is not at all a self insert and they are in no way threatened by the handsome, dashing, feminist pirate captain. No way. “Please ignore us making him look like a complete fool and doing what we can to marr his handsomeness (unsuccessfully), it has nothing to do with our own insecurities, we promise, we just thought it would be funny!”

And August, he might have been the brains behind the “Send Emma to Jail When Really Leaving Her Behind Would Be Enough” plan and he steals the money Neal left her, but hey he told her a story once and he believed in her a couple times so it’s cool, let’s never mention it again! Best friends forever!

SHE ACTUALLY THANKED HIM. That happened. The woman who was betrayed and sent to jail, who had to live with her pregnancy behind bars, who had to give up her baby because she had no way to support him because August STOLE HER MONEY, actually told that motherfucker Thank You.

That happened. But these struggles made her so STRONG you guys.

And let’s talk about Rumple who all of sudden is Team Hero again, trying to help his son. Not once does Belle turn to him and say “You know, if you hadn’t chased my pregnant ass around with scissors threatening to like, de-soul our baby, none of this would have happened?? He would have been fine? Maybe going on baby play dates with the other rapidly aged baby Robyn instead of rocking a terrible haircut and trying to kill the Savior.”

Nope, Rumple gets a clean slate. All is forgiven! A reconciliation is imminent, they are working together for their son. Babies forgive all manner of abuse apparently. Let’s stay together for the children. Hand holding and the desperate bond of parenthood apparently trump endangering the child’s life in the first place.

It’s just SO FUCKING GROSS.

Never Say Never (Part 12)

Pairing: Arthur (Mr.) Ketch x Reader
Word Count: 750
Warnings: Smut. Unprotected sex.
Sequel: Part 12/12 of  Never Say Never

Special thanks to @lucis-unicorn for helping so much with this every step of the way.

I have to get sappy and say thank you to everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged, and sent asks and messages about this story.

When I wrote the first chapter as a smutty little one shot it was to indulge my fantasy and to try and sway a friend to climb in my lonely trashcan with me (it worked by the way).   It turned into a chapter story for fun.

I had no idea a chapter story about a minor character that was created to be disliked (as of right now) would do so well but the feedback has blown my mind.

People have sent me songs that remind them of this story.  People have told me I’ve inspired them to try writing.  I’ve even had several people say that this story changed their opinion on the character in the show.

I am so thankful and I don’t feel like I can properly express just how much this has meant to me. Nothing I have ever written has had this much love and feedback.

I may come back with a sequel at some point and in the mean time feel free to send in some one shot requests.

And now on to the last chapter….

Keep reading

Fanfiction - The Teacher II

I had no choice, really. If you missed it, here is part I.

The Teacher II

Claire hesitated in front of the door, the incrusted bronze plate shining with the letters “Professor Fraser”, beckoning her to dare and knock. She breathed deeply and raised her fist to announce her presence.

“Yes?” A voice answered inside, in a lilt that made her stomach explode in a frenzy of millions of bubbles. She half-opened the door in order to peek inside, realizing that he was accompanied by a student, sitting in front of him in what could only be called “the hot seat”. “Ah, it’s ye Miss Beauchamp.”

“Sorry to disturb you, Professor Fraser.” She said in a respectful tone, watching as her colleague – another Health Management student - looked at her with a cry for help in his brown eyes – slightly hazed from too much weed -, his shoulders slumped in mortal shame. “I have some questions about the essay I still have to write for your class. I was wondering if I could go over them with you, sir.”

James Fraser gave her an uninterested look – which could clearly be interpreted as annoyance with her presence – and finally nodded.

“I’ll be with you presently, Miss Beauchamp.” He said dryly. ”As soon as Mister King here understands that copying a page from Wikipedia is not acceptable as an essay. You do realize I have access to the Internet, Mister King?” His eyebrows were raised above the rim of his black eyeglasses, enhancing his disappointment at his student poorly conducted machinations.

“Yes, Professor Fraser.” The boy furiously nodded, a sinner in repentance, his neck slowly disappearing between his shoulders as he tried to bury himself away, escaping those piercing blue eyes. “I am very sorry, sir.”

“I’m sure ye are.” The teacher gave him a lopsided smile, neatly pilling the sheets of paper crossed out in red ink and pushing them in his direction. “You have until tomorrow to deliver a corrected version of this paper, Mister King. I’ll have to grade it for a maximum “B” after this mischief, but it’s certainly better than the current “D” – from disaster.”

He pursed his lips and waited patiently as the student collected his belongings and made the walk of shame towards the door of his office. Claire could barely contain a smile as her colleague grimaced to her, rolling his eyes in despair, his back turned to the punishing master.

“Come in, Miss Beauchamp.” Professor Fraser urged her and, quickly patting Arthur King’s back in comfort, Claire moved inside the office and closed the door behind her. “How can I help ye?” He asked in a dark tone.

He looked serious and poised, his forearms resting on the mahogany table in front of him. His office was clean and discrete, fairly organized with stacks of paper and folders thoroughly aligned and labelled. He had a shelf filled with books behind him, silently complaining with copious overweight – Claire recognized titles from classic economy books but also lots of poetry and historical tomes. Over the years – both in nursing school and now as medical student –, she had been inside many teacher’s offices. There was a tendency for hoarding and to accumulate trinkets and photographs, as they spent so much time working inside them. However, Jamie’s office spoke of order and contention, only a photograph of himself with a dark haired woman – the same blue slanted eyes smiling to the photographer, betraying their kinship – and a small statue of a leaping stag.

“I was wondering if you could explain me again some concepts.” Claire said in strong voice, locking the door from the inside and slowly moving towards his desk. “I’m not sure I’m truly enlighten about them – in spite of our class yesterday.”

“Do ye now?” Jamie quirked a brow, his voice low and dangerous. “I thought I was fairly clear.” He rose from his chair and came around the desk, nearing her like a graceful predator.

“Some things benefit from repetition.” She licked her lips and, smiling widely, sat on his desk – her floral dress hiking up as she went, exposing her fair legs to his eyes, soft and creamy.

“Christ, Sassenach.” His mask of tight control fell – exposing his raw edges underneath it. He moaned and strode towards her in a heartbeat, placing himself between her parted thighs, his mouth punishing hers for the teasing, his hands grasping her curly hair. “I just had ye yesterday, but I want ye so much it hurts already.”

“I want you too.” She panted, as he touched her breast with his strong palm, her nipple already painfully aware of his proximity. “I couldn’t help myself – I had to come. I had to see you, to feel you.”

“When I saw ye standing at my door, I almost lost it.” He groaned, his hands brushing the soft skin inside her thighs, as he kissed and suckled her neck. “And ye – wearing this dress, ye wicked little vixen. I thought I’d throw ye into my desk and take ye, there and then, right in front of Mister King.”

“You’re a very good actor.” She laughed, her hands fumbling with the zipper of his pants. “I could swear you didn’t even like me – least of all wanted to shag me in your office.” Claire yelped as he kneeled in front of her and bit the sensitive skin, moist and heated from his attentions.

“This is madness.” He nuzzled her, his hands gripping her arse to bring her closer to him. “If we behave like uncontrolled teenagers someone will find out. We need to stop seeing each other here.”

A month before they had started seeing each other – meeting for dinner away from campus and taking long walks on secluded parks and on the coastline, where they could hold hands and kiss, languid and carefree. The underlying attraction had been there from the start, they were forced to admit – and their mutual feelings had bloomed into full spring, nurtured by hours of solitude and touches. At first the idea of sneaking around was fun and certainly arousing – but soon enough the burden of pretending indifference had become a permanent struggle and a source of unhappiness.

“You can stop.” Claire suggested teasingly, her lips tasting the hollow of his throat – skilfully undoing the first buttons of his shirt – the pulse of desire emanating from his skin. “I won’t force you, I promise.”

“I canna refuse ye.” He said in a hoarse voice, his accent made more evident by lust and strong emotion, as she struggled to free him from the constraining underwear. “Not today – nor ever, mo ghraidh.”

He played her like a violin – robbing her lips of moans and sobs that echoed in his heart like notes of the purest music, his eyes fixed on the way her beautiful face almost shattered, so close to be undone. Jamie touched her until his own body hurt – a desire so powerful it bordered on excruciating pain -, finally ready to take her. As he adjusted his body to hers, her head lulled back as she surrendered to the eminent joining, a knock on the door sounded – menacing and real, like a sudden tear on active muscle.

Their eyes locked in terror for a moment, their bodies almost fused together, their breathing ragged and superficial.

“Who is it?” Jamie questioned, struggling to compose his voice. He kissed her swollen lips one final – desperate – time and pulled her out of the desk, quickly helping her to adjust her clothes.

“Fraser?” The voice of Professor Raymond came from outside. “I need to discuss with you the program for the summit. May I come in?”

Mallaichte bas!” Jamie cursed, gritting his teeth. “Just a second!” He shouted through the door, composing his own clothes and brushing his hair with trembling fingers. Like two actors in a comical play, Claire launched herself into the chair, searching for her best concentrated and slightly bored look, as Jamie hurried to adjust the crumpled papers on his desk. When everything seemed to be in natural order, they nodded to each other and Jamie opened the door with a pleasant smile plastered on his lips.

“Ah.” The little man, with silver hair and dark all-knowing eyes, noticed Claire sitting like a student in best possible behaviour. “I hadn’t realize you were busy, James.”

“Miss Beauchamp and I were merely discussing her last paper.” Jamie explained, adjusting his glasses. “She had already started it before she transferred to your class.”

“No doubt.” Professor Raymond smiled, clearly amused. His eyes drifted through the room – in spite of their best efforts, Claire’s lips were clearly swollen and her hair even more unruly than usual. Jamie, although composed, had the look of a man battling a cramp in the belly – his eyes wild and fiery, his smile a bit too tense. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your…work.”

“That’s alright, Professor.” Claire raised from her chair and headed to the door, her neck still flushed. “I think I have everything I need for now. Thank you, Professor Fraser. I’ll be sure to deliver my complete work later.”

Both men stared as she waved and disappeared, closing the door behind her.

“Your fly is open, James.” Raymond warned him in an amiable tone and laughed like a content toad, to Jamie’s utter dismay.

****

“Have you asked for me, Professor Mackenzie?” Jamie announced himself, standing on the threshold of Colum MacKenzie’s - the dean of faculty - office.

“Ah, James – yes.” Colum’s calculative gaze turned to Jamie, as he invited him to sit with a brief hand gesture. He was silent for a while, studying Jamie’s cordial face, his hands entwined in thoughtfulness. “I asked ye here because a pressing matter has been brought to my attention.” He finally said, leaning back against his leather covered office chair.

“How may I help?” Jamie furrowed his copper brows.

“Ye can stop seeing Claire Beauchamp.” Colum said in a cutting voice, which froze Jamie’s insides – was he fishing for the truth, expecting him to confirm his suspicions; or did someone actually see him with Claire? He was certain Raymond knew after their encounter in his office, but was confident the man wouldn’t tell a soul due to their friendship.

“That is hardly possible.” Jamie smiled, trying to look relaxed and uncompromised. “She attends this school and I am a teacher here.”

“I was wondering if I had to remind ye of that exact fact.” Colum admonished, harshly. “Someone informed me that you have been involved in some kind of affair with the lass. I couldna believe it. That a teacher – my nephew, no less – would be sae foolish and careless.”

“Who told ye that?” Jamie gripped his fist, hidden bellow the desk, barely containing the anger in his voice.

“It doesna matter.” Colum shook his head, his eyes demanding and judgemental. “Will you deny it, Jamie?”

Jamie endured the assault of his eyes, his own stormy and strong. Eventually, he sighed and shrugged.

“No, I won’t deny it. I’m in love with Claire and I’m dating her.” He confessed, tilting his chin in defiance. Colum hissed like a harassed animal and pursed his lips in discontent. “I’m a professor here but she isna my student – we only got involved when she quit my class. Nothing happened before!” Jamie guaranteed, tapping his fingers on his leg.

“I had hope the girl was lying.” Colum brushed his thinning hair. “How could ye be sae stupid? How could ye overlook what screwing the lass would mean to this school?”

“What we have,” Jamie hissed, adamant. “Is much more than screwing, uncle. Claire is the woman I waited for all my life. I won’t forsake her – not even for yer precious reputation.”

“I see.” Colum breathed through his nose, like a resentful cat. His eyes searched Jamie’s, as they battle their unwavering wills. “In that case ye have a decision to make – let go of the lass or yer days of teaching are numbered.” And with a magnanimous nod of the head, he dismissed him. “Professor Fraser.”

anonymous asked:

Hi! I keep watching the S3 finale and slinging between the theory that Will planned Hannibal's escape and his lines are actually subliminally gesturing his intent to slip away with Hannibal; and the theory that Will decides to be a martyr ("found religion"), kill the Dragon and die with Hannibal ("kill them all") in which is ultimately murder/suicide. I know the latter is the popular theory but the former haunts me, particularly due to Will's last conversation with Bedelia! Thoughts? Thank you!

This is something I’ve written quite a bit on previously but not recently, so I hope you won’t mind if I mostly just defer to Bryan Fuller on this one. The following is an excerpt from an interview with Variety that came out right after the finale, and fwiw, I agree with Bryan: the way he describes it is the way I understood it from watching the show. 

Fans already seem to be speculating about Will and Hannibal’s intentions in that final scene — from your perspective, was Will hoping they’d die from that fall, or planning for them to survive? What was going through his mind in those last moments?

All season long, it had been developing this story of Will’s realization, even as he is going into Europe to track down his friend, that his agenda — as Chiyoh (Tao Okamoto) points out — is “I have to kill Hannibal in order to not become Hannibal.” And he gets so fed up with the machinations of the relationship and Hannibal sawing his head open and trying to get at his brain that he’s just like “f–k it, I’m done with you, I’m walking away.” And yet, as he states in the finale, that was all a ruse to get Hannibal to turn himself in. And so it was kind of a band-aid on a bigger wound, and then when Will is pulled back in to the Red Dragon arc, he’s asking Bedelia, “is Hannibal in love with me?” and Bedelia is saying “is this a ‘can’t live with him, can’t live without him?‘” And essentially it is, and that’s sort of the conclusion Will comes to at the end, “I can’t live with him, I can’t live without him. This is the scenario where the least amount of people can die,” meaning, “the two of us.”

I think when Hannibal says, “This is all I ever wanted for you; this is all I ever wanted for both of us,” Will is forced to acknowledge that what they just experienced was actually a beautiful thing. He lingers on that feeling of, “it was beautiful and I will desire it again, and I will be chasing this feeling.” And as he said to Hannibal earlier, “I may not be able to save myself, and that’s just fine.” I feel like we were very honest with the audience in terms of saying exactly what Will does at the end — we said it a few times.

The foreshadowing was delightfully heavy in this episode.

And yet it still feels like a little bit of a surprise at the end. [The post-credits scene with Bedelia] was very intentionally setting up another season of the story … essentially saying that Hannibal could’ve survived….

As you said, Bedelia and Will actually discussed whether he and Hannibal are in love with each other in the penultimate episode, and it feels like the show spelled out the answer fairly clearly, even if it’s not an overtly sexual love — but where do you think Will lands on that, in the end?

I think that’s what motivates the leap, is his realization that Hannibal was right all along. As beautiful as that felt to him, he understands that it is a place that who he is will not survive in, and so his option is essentially to pull the plug on the whole story, and that’s the only way he’s going to win himself back. It’s a sad gesture in so many ways….

When did you come up with the idea for this finale — was it between seasons, or further back?

It came about halfway through season two and we knew that Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter had to work together to defeat the Red Dragon, and that was a big move forward in their relationship, that the two actually hunt side by side … we needed something much more impactful and much more intimate, and Steve Lightfoot started talking about Sherlock and Moriarty and Reichenbach Falls and then it was like, “of course, that’s exactly what we need to do, and that murder-suicide for Will is what’s going to define his character and his last heroic act,” and it just felt perfect, so hats off to Arthur Conan Doyle. (x)

My problem with the theory that Will was planning a true escape for Hannibal has two parts (besides the fact that that just isn’t the story they told, as Bryan said here).

First, it doesn’t follow a logical character-growth arc for Will. I suppose the argument must be that Will discovered that he missed Hannibal too much and therefore decided to run off with him after all, as he talked about wanting to back in “Aperitivo.” But that just ignores Will’s struggles with his compassion and morality: he’s mortified by what he’s caused to happen to Frederick Chilton, he feels responsible for the attack on his family, plus the original thought he’d had that he’s afraid of becoming Hannibal (which he feels is very real when he finds killing Dolarhyde beautiful). At no point do they tell the reverse story that Will is warming up to the ideas of killing or becoming like Hannibal. He doesn’t come away from Frederick Chilton’s maiming going, “That was gr9,″ or the attack on his family thinking “My ex is gr9,” or anything else he goes through. This version of the story is just not present.

Secondly, it’s not in keeping with the style of storytelling that the writers engage in on Hannibal. Bryan withholds information a number of times to generate big reveals, but he does it in a way that is driven by emotional content rather than intellectual content. In other words, Hannibal isn’t a story that you can “solve” the way people try to solve for the big twist in, say, Mr. Robot., or an M. Night Shyamalan movie, or trying to make it so the monolith in 2001 is a metaphor for a film screen. The theory that Will was planning Hannibal’s escape–while emotional in the sense of being romantic–is a story that would have to play by “solving”: the plan was X, Y, Z, but Will really planned A, B, C, and blah blah. (And in the meantime, shoehorning some goofy explanation in to make his conversation with Hannibal at the Chesapeake Bay house be #CODE since they didn’t actually, yanno, discuss escaping, but instead talked a lot about dying for a friend.) I mean, maybe Bryan’s special touch could make this feel a lot less like “solving,” but I’m pretty skeptical. 

Another facet of the issue of style of storytelling comes down to the secondary role the romance plays, next to the horror, and IMO, this is one of those places where fandom, being so primarily caught up in the relationship, goes astray with trying to interpret the story. Shipper goggles, I guess. Hannibal may have some things in common with a romantic comedy in terms of trope and device, but it has nothing in common with it in terms of tone and mood (and theme), and make no mistake: nothing controls the nature and quality of a story more strongly than tone and mood. In spite of the title, this is how you know it’s more Will Graham’s story than Hannibal Lecter’s story. Hannibal is horror about loneliness and grief and trauma. It’s not about finding love and mischievous reunions and getting off scot-free. It’s not about to let Will off the hook that easily, frankly.  

None of this is to say that some part of Will won’t always want to run off with Hannibal. He says so himself, and, in the sense of a subconscious thing, or a while-falling-to-your-death kind of revelation, he may very much want to escape with Hannibal even while he plans and tries to kill him. It just isn’t what he was endeavoring to achieve in “The Wrath of the Lamb.”