His father’s voice sounded strained, almost like a scared whisper. He hesitantly stretched out his arm, his hand balled into a fist. Draco swallowed hard as several heads turned towards him, watched him. He was sure they all expected him to walk across the courtyard without hesitation. It was where he belonged after all.
All these years he had done as his father had said. He hadn’t defied him once. But now, everything in him screamed to stay where he was, not to go to his father. It came too late. What was the point in defying him now?
Harry Potter was dead. There was no hope left.
Draco’s eyes darted to his mother. Her voice rang through him and immediately found its way to his heart, squeezing it violently. She took a step forward, smiling at him almost sadly.
Hesitating only a second longer, Draco started moving, his head bowed. He didn’t dare to look anyone in the eye.
Harry Potter was dead. What was the point in fighting?
Draco’s body went rigid when the Dark Lord enveloped him in his arms.
“Well done, Draco,” he whispered into his ear. Draco thought he was going to be sick. Silently, he made his way to his parents, avoiding his father’s waiting arms and grasping his mother’s hand instead.
He tried to suppress a sob when his eyes fell on Potter’s lifeless body, held tight by the half-giant. It made him want to scream, to sink to his knees and beg the heavens to return him. What were they supposed to do without Potter now? What was Draco supposed to do without him?
For the rest of his life, he would be haunted by the knowledge that the last time he had seen Harry Potter alive, the Gryffindor had saved his life, had saved him from the Fiendfyre. And what had Draco done? He had simply grabbed his wand when it had fallen out of Potter’s hand and had made a run for it.
His hand tightened around the wood, making his knuckles go white. It didn’t even feel like his wand anymore. It only reminded him of what he had done. It disgusted him.
He could barely listen as Longbottom stepped forward and told them it didn’t matter that Potter was dead. His heart gave another violent squeeze. He wished he could go back in time. Draco doubted it was in his power to save Potter, but he should have at least told him that he… that he…
Draco saw something sparkly out of the corner of his eyes when suddenly chaos erupted. Longbottom was holding something; it looked like a sword. Draco looked around, taking in the shocked faces of the Death Eaters. That’s when he finally saw it; Potter, jumping out of the half-giant’s arms. In this mere second, Draco’s whole world shifted. It was as if time was standing still. Potter was crouching on the ground, his face full of determination.
Draco’s mind was completely blank. He didn’t think, he didn’t question it when his feet started moving of their own accord.
“Potter!” His voice was choked, desperate. The feeling only intensified when their eyes met. Draco hadn’t thought he’d ever see those eyes again. It made him shiver. He didn’t think about repercussions, about what his parents would say, what the Dark Lord might do to him. How could he, when Harry Potter was alive?
Without a moment’s hesitation, he lifted his arm above his head and threw his wand with all his might. His heart hammered wildly against his chest as he watched Potter catch it mid-air.
They were saved. He was saved.
Even though relief flooded through him, at this point, Draco really didn’t care what happened to him anymore. He had experienced what it meant to lose
Harry Potter was alive and that was all that mattered.
So, quick intermission because there’s this song you could listen to real quick. Yes, this was indeed inspired by a song originally sung by the Backstreet Boys lol. BUT can you honestly listen to it and tell me this is not one of the most drarry songs you’ve ever heard? I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed before! So, with that in mind, the story continues…
It was quick, fleeting, but it made Harry stop dead, the air completely knocked out of his lungs. Grey eyes, hesitant, sad, locked with his.
Someone bumped into him, breaking the eye contact. Harry whirled around, the shopping bag in his hand hitting the wizard beside him in the back.
“Sorry,” Harry mumbled. He quickly turned his head back down Diagon Alley, searching for grey eyes but there were just too many people.
Here is my ‘Craig is totally gay and was in love with the MC in college’ post!
So, first off- this is Craig Cahn and the thing that made me first think that he was gay instead of bi. (And fyi I am a Bi myself, so this is more headcanoning and exploring character and not trying to stomp on other headcanons, jsyk.)
Yeah the very first time we met. But look- divorces do happen, and do happen in a chill manner. But… let us note a couple things. One, the divorce literally only happened ‘last year’. Which could mean anywhere from (assuming this is the spring due to college letters and school timetables) 12+ to only 3-ish months ago depending on what counts as ‘last year’.
You only get a SECOND of him being uncomfortable while breaking the news before he is on even ground and is like ‘yeah it’s old news and everything is in perfect order now’. AND THE DIVORCE HAPPENED EITHER WHILE SMASHLEY WAS PREGNANT OR JUST HAD RIVER. Now, this could be a him lying, except… it’s never really brought up again as a thing? Like, we deal with Mat’s feelings for his dead wife, Joseph’s failing marriage, and etc but despite how recent it was we are lead to believe their divorce was perfectly amicable despite the timing. (Now placing a cut here because this gets long and has more pics.)
Disclaimer - I do not own any of Descendants’ characters and/or ideas all credit goes to the creator and producers of Disney Descendants
Pairing - Harry Hook x Reader
Summary – (Y/N) is the daughter of Dr. Facilier and is one of the Villain Kids who go to Auradon but when Mal returns to the Isle she goes with Ben, Evie, Carlos, and Jay to get her back when they run into her boyfriend, Harry Hook
Warning(s) - threats, if you squint harm/harassment hinted and mentioned, protective
Warnings: SMUT 💦, swearing, mentions of abuse/violence
Disclaimer: I do not condone Billy’s behaviour or views on the show, nor do I intend to romanticise racism or abuse.
Authors Note: I got a bit carried away on this one lmao. Hope you all like it! Let me know! I’m also accepting requests for Stranger Things. To everyone that has read the previous parts and sent me messages, thank you so much! Your support means the world to me. Also so many thanks to @juiceboxxortiz for reading through and checking it even though you don’t watch Stranger Things. You are the best 💕💕💕
isnt aizawa only drawn like that because hes supposed to be buff like all might?
I don’t think so, no but, allow me to explain why!
Firstly, I’m going to use this art drawn by Horikoshi here:
I want to thank @ukitakejuushirofor this post because they made a very good point here. Aizawa, is holding Bakugou down with literally one arm and absolutely no strain, while Bakugou himself is struggling to get Aizawa’s grip off of him. That’s not the only thing I want to point out here though.
Notice where Bakugou’s left hand stops against Aizawa’s forearm.
That’s a thick ass arm, my dude. Bakugou can’t even wrap his hand around Aizawa’s wrist fully. I know Aizawa looks skinny because he wears a baggy ass black suit as his hero attire and they made him appear like a twig in the anime, but legit this man is beefy. Horikoshi basically confirmed this for us every single time he’s ever drawn Aizawa in fitted clothing.
Aizawa is a broad guy. He is thick. He isn’t a a twig like his loose-fitted black suit would have you believe.
Look at that fucking neck and those shoulders! Also note how wide his waist is and how thick his wrists are.
This is a reasonably buff dude. Which shouldn’t be all that shocking considering he can run across power-lines like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do and also dead lift a soaking wet Deku with one hand like it’s nothing. He has the physical prowess of a gymnast combined with a mixed martial arts fighter.
This isn’t my only point though. Look at All Might:
All Might is a god damn mountain. He’s ENORMOUS. But Aizawa in the hero swap:
He is nowhere near as huge. He’s not even close to All Might’s size here. He’s the exact body type you’d expect from someone who is as physically inclined as he actually happens to be. Also notice that his neck and shoulders aren’t any wider than they’re normally drawn WITHOUT HIS CAPTURE WEAPON ON. That’s another thing you have to take into consideration here. His hero outfit does literally nothing in terms of granting people a nice view, ya feel me? It’s baggy af and his bondage scarf usually covers his shoulders and entire neck. So what we see here is all just for more defined because he’s in a skintight body suit instead of a loose tracksuit with miles of metal woven cloth wrapped around his neck and shoulders.
The last thing I want to add is this:
For every other character Horikoshi has done a costume/quirk swap for, no one’s body type changed. Not one. I get All Might can go back and forth between buff and slim, but I feel like if Horikoshi drew Aizawa to be buff for the sake of portraying All Might, he would have given Aizawa the full All Might, mountain sized body. Not just a beefed up version of himself. Especially since he hasn’t done that for any other character. I mean, Bakugou is Nomu in the very same art but he is no taller, and no buffer than his usual body type. He’s just shirtless.
So I believe that is actually Aizawa’s true, canon body. You just get a much better view of it because the All Might suit is like a second skin :D
Unsurprisingly, the thrill of being on Earth fades after two days of relentless walking, bumming rides, and begging for bus money. Not that Castiel can’t appreciate the sunshine and flowers and corporeality of it all… but about one minute after standing up and taking in the warmth and smells and feel of the world around him, his thoughts immediately turned to the Winchesters. To Jack.
It’s Dean specifically whose name runs on a loop in his mind; whose memories have Castiel’s heart stuttering and blood racing in his veins. By the time he’s walking up to the Bunker door, Cas’s palms are slick with sweat and he’s exhausted despite his Grace, anxiety clawing under his skin. He re-adjusts his new coat and tie about fifteen times, and attempts to flatten his hair into some kind of order. He stares at the door for a good five minutes before gathering enough courage to knock.
It’s Dean who answers.
He’s thinner than the last time Castiel saw him, with dark bruises under his eyes and a paleness lurking beneath his skin that is frightening. He looks haggard, and defeated, and despite all of that Cas is still made breathless. Because he is standing in the doorway whole. Because they are both whole, and living.
“Give it a rest, Mia. I ain’t buyin’ what you’re selling.”
The door is closed in his face.
It’s amazing, how one sentence can break a person. But no matter. Castiel knows, logically, that Dean think’s he’s dead. Four days ago, he wouldn’t have been wrong. So, pushing those pesky, unrealistic fantasies of a romantic reunion aside, he swallows thickly, and knocks again.
Dean answers with a glare this time. “Look, I get that we helped you, but following us all the way out here is just friggin’ creepy, okay?! And invasive! So leave us the hell alone before I decide to do something I regret.” Scoffing, he gives Castiel a cursory look up and down before shaking his head. “Some shifter you are,” he mutters. “You even got his clothes wrong.”
“I’m really not in the mood right now, okay? So just—”
“Dean, it’s me.”
Dean pauses. Shakes his head. Pauses again.
“You can test me,” Castiel says. “In fact, I insist. But don’t—don’t close the door again. Please, I just—it’s me. I swear it’s me.”
Green eyes play across his face, but if he’s searching for duplicity, he’ll find none. Staring back, Cas waits for Dean to come to a decision, finally muttering a “wait here”, before closing the door for a second time. Left alone, Cas feels his shoulders slump in relief. Dean will test him, and then he’ll know. He’ll know and Castiel will finally go home.
They do holy water first and iron first, saving silver for last. Even when both other tests have been completed, Dean hesitates at the third, looking at Cas’s big blue eyes and biting his lip. Castiel rolls up his sleeve and holds out his arm. “Please,” he murmurs.
Dean quickly slices the silver blade in a shallow cut on Cas’s forearm, watching with wide eyes when the skin easily knits back together.
The knife drops to the ground with an almighty clang.
Dean’s hand comes up to shakily cover his mouth as his eyes, red-rimmed and shining, remain trained on Castiel’s. “No,” he murmurs. “Uh uh, I’m dreaming. I’m—I burned you. I’ve finally cracked, I—”
“No,” Castiel urges. “It’s me. It’s Cas.”
“I know who you are, dumbass.” Tears spill onto freckled cheeks as a huffed laugh is startled out of Dean’s chest. His hands twitch at his sides. “It’s really you.”
They’re hugging. Dean has launched himself at Castiel’s person, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and cradling the back of his head. His shoulders shake as he buries his face in Cas’s neck, and of his part, Castiel holds on as tightly as he can without causing harm. He blinks rapidly in an effort to dispel his own tears and leans heavily into the warmth that now surrounds him from what feels like all sides.
“Cas,” Dean mumbles, his voice thin and watery. “Cas. Castiel. Cas.”
“Dean.” Castiel doesn’t mean to turn his head, just as he doesn’t mean to lean in when Dean pulls back to see what’s happening. He does, however, mean to kiss Dean Winchester within an inch of his life when it becomes clear that this is a thing he’s permitted to do.
So he does it.
Castiel kisses Dean thoroughly. Methodically. Pressing little demonstrations of love to his mouth before deepening it to something wanton and wet. Cas’s heart tumbles against his ribcage, and his cheeks heat, and Dean runs a hand through his hair in a way that is so different from that creature in the empty that Castiel almost sobs anew. He kisses Dean with everything he is, and Dean whimpers. Freckled hands cup Cas’s cheeks.
From the war room, Sam holds Jack’s shoulder, keeping him in place. “Just… wait a sec, okay?“ he says, staring up at the pair pressed together on the threshold. “They need this.”
“They love each other,” Jack observes.
"Yeah,” Sam nods. Blinking rapidly, he looks at the child beside him and smiles. “They do.”
Summary:You and Richie had a thing going, and by ‘thing’ you mean rivalry. On the outside you hate him with all your might, but secretly you’ve been slipping love notes into his locker and praying no one ever sees you. Knowing your rotten luck, the person who catches you in the act is the one person you never wanted to be caught by.
Warnings: Cussing, because it’s Richie… Obviously. Also kissing an’ shit, and this was requested by @ireland37, who wrote their own series based off the idea. Check it out!
Word Count: 1,304
“Is it hard to be this stupid, or does it come naturally?”
Richie snorted and, grinning widely, raised his middle finger at you. You didn’t notice the red tint to his face every time the two of you argued and he never knew that your chest wanted to explode whenever he insulted you, which was odd, but it happened anyway. Whether or not he had a comeback, you enjoyed the banter.
“If you want to talk about things that come naturally then you should see me in bed.” He fires back, crumpling paper into a ball and throwing it at you. You ducked and frowned, craning your neck to look at him. You were about to say something but the teacher walked in and shushed the class, and you were forced to turn back to the front.
Halfway through the boring class, you heard a quiet ‘thwip’ sound and felt something hit the back of your head. Your hand darted up to feel your hair, pulling a tiny ball of crumpled paper out of the locks. It was, to your absolute disgust, slimy.
Concept: Magnus gets the
idea to train service dogs from watching his friends struggle with
PTSD after destroying the Hunger.
Sure, the world is saved
and everything is at peace and the entire IPRE crew gets happy
endings. But the events of the past year, past ten years, past one
hundred years don’t just go away
because you’re at peace. In real life, it’s when you get out of the
shitty, surviving day-to-day situations that you realize you haven’t
been coping, just…managing. It’s then that your survival
mechanisms keep going because you’ve needed them for so long, but
there’s nothing to survive.
been implied that Taako has trouble with nightmares within the
podcast, so imagine him finally settling down, opening up his magic
school, reunited with his sister and brother-in-law and in a nice,
stable relationship with a sweet boyfriend…but he still has
nightmares. Maybe they’re even worse now, since he can remember the
to mention, I think he and Lup will have this sort of borderline
co-dependent relationship for a while,
particularly on Taako’s part. Lup…well, it’s hard to say she was
with Taako, exactly,
but she wasn’t without him. And she never lost
him. It’s also canon that Taako hates being alone, most likely
because he knows he isn’t supposed to be.
Taako is living his life, making public appearances, eating up the
attention as he is wont to do, and then at night, he’s got these
nightmares. While I imagine that Kravitz, Lup, and Barry aren’t the
only reapers, I do
imagine that they keep odd hours and there are times when they are
all busy. So now he has sleepless, lonely nights, spent worrying
about his family.
(I love your writing it makes me wanna jump off a cliff with happiness) Can I uHHHHHHH get a drarry fic where it's 8th year and draco is quite and none of his friends are at hogwarts so he starts to make a habit of going outside at night and star gazing, one night harry decides he wants a break from the crowds so he goes outside only to find a sleepy draco and a whole lotto stars (Sorry if this ask sounded so demanding)
Ah thank you that’s so kind! Only don’t go jumping off any cliffs! Unless you’re base diving maybe…oh or bungee jumping. Then that’s alright. Also this took awhile because I started writing this in tumblr and IT ATE MY DAMN DRABBLE AND I WAS SO MAD, so it took me awhile to be less angry and start to try to write it all over.
“What’re you doing out here?”
Draco jumps at the unexpected voice, snapping his eyes open and shooting the other boy a dirty look which is met with an impish grin. Draco would be more annoyed at the interruption if he weren’t finding it so attractive. Fucking Potter, try as he might Draco can’t seem to dislike a single thing about him anymore.
“Looked like you were sleeping.”
“I was not sleeping. I was enjoying some peace and quiet before you so rudely interrupted.”
Potter doesn’t respond right away, so Draco finally looks at him and is surprised to see the other boy looking, well, nervous. He wants to roll his eyes. He doesn’t understand Potter sometimes, how he can be so smart and sarcastic and full of life and the next moment look like he’s unsure he’s wanted; he wonders what’s happened in his life that could make Potter so unsure how other people feel about him. He wants to know desperately but they aren’t there yet so he files it away in his mental list of things he wants to know about Potter but may never find out.
When Potter makes no move to speak, or leave, Draco scoots to the side making room for the other boy to sit beside him. He doesn’t say anything, just makes a bit of extra room on the blanket he’d transfigured when he’d come outside. Thankfully words aren’t necessary and Potter slides down right next to him, impossibly close to Draco.
“So, Potter, what exactly are you doing here? Isn’t there some sort of party going on in the common room?”
Potter huffs out a laugh, rubbing his hands on his knees. “There’s always a party going on. I just…there’s,” he sighs, looking a bit uncomfortable as if he isn’t sure what to say.
“There’s a lot of people in there. Rather noisy.” Draco sometimes wonders how it seems as if they both seem to feel the same, despite the fact that their experiences couldn’t have been more different. It should be weird, realizing how much they have in common, but instead it just feels right.
The tension visibly leaves Potter’s body at Draco’s words. “Yes…yes, that.”
After several quiet moments, Draco finds himself speaking without even consciously deciding to do so. “I came outside to watch the stars. Growing up I always liked astronomy, and I know what you’re thinking but it wasn’t some narcissist thing because I’m named after a bloody constellation alright. It’s just…they’re fixed you know? No matter what happens, whether we can see them or not, the stars are always the same. I like that, knowing that some things are constant.”
“It’s beautiful,” Potter whispers, but when Draco turns his head to agree he realizes Potter isn’t looking at the stars, he’s looking at him. And then Potter’s hand is reaching towards him, one of them reaching out to tangle his fingers with Draco’s and the other moving to the back of his neck. They’re so close Draco can feel the other boy’s warm breath ghosting across his face.
“What are you doing, Potter?”
“No fucking idea,” he mumbles, closing the distance and pressing his lips to Draco’s. Potter taste like fire whiskey and chocolate, and his lips are ice cold and chapped. It’s perfect.
It occurs to Draco, as Potter pushes him down on the blanket, kissing him as if he were the air Potter needed to breath, that Draco has spent his entire life looking for something that wouldn’t change when maybe what he should’ve been doing was finding someone or something worth changing for.
Maybe like a dying star they will crash and burn, or maybe they’ll stay a constant he can look for on his darkest days. All Draco knows as he reaches out to touch Potter in as many places as possible, is that for once in his life maybe he’s not so afraid of the unknown anymore.
Warnings: it’s Loki the god of Mischief. You bet your sexy ass it’ll be the most NSFW of all of them
@dark-night-sky-99 requested: Hey!! I love your writing, and absolutely love how you take conscious of us curvy girls, not many care so thank you!!, I was recently reading your Curvy hips and pretty lips series and I know it’s closed but I was wondering if you could do something similar with Loki since he’s my favorite character and I’ve never read about him and a curvy reader before.
A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE. Comments appreciated and welcomed. This is the first time I write for Loki so be kind :)
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Public Teasing, Public Masturbation, Teasing in the car and in the bedroom, pleading, seduction, striping Dylan because he’s sexy as fuck, dry humping, thigh riding, hand jobs, face riding, handcuffs, blindfolds, 69 (aka oral male and female receiving), overstimulation, praising, orgasm denial, female riding male (regular and reverse cowgirl), whiny Dylan, mentions of dominant Dylan, A lot of submissive Dylan, BREATHY MOANS
Notes: I will make this short as I am writing this pool side from hell. I’m so sorry this took forever. I have no excuses. But hopefully it was worth it. I honestly don’t know if this is my best writing for what you guys wanted from this. I promise the next thing I write won’t take as long.
“And so, when the brave FBI intern valiantly fought his way into the building to rescue his long lost love, he had to hope that he was there in time. When he finally found him, the relief was almost enough to make him fall to his knees, but he knew he couldn’t waste time. So, he saved his love from the clutches of his would be captors, and helped to carry him away from the chaos by looping one arm over his own shoulders, and with a strong arm wrapped around his middle, supporting him while they escaped.”
“Did they live happily ever after?” Claude asks at the same time that Lori says “But you saved Papa, right?”
“Wait,” Claude adds, his brow furrowing in a way that reminds Stiles so much of Derek that he has trouble remembering that Claude is adopted, “Is this the same story Papa tells about why your toe looks funny?”
“No, silly,” Lori answers on Stiles’ behalf, her eyes darting to where Derek is leaning against the doorway with an all too amused smirk on his face. “That can’t be the toe story, in the toe story Papa carries Daddy ‘way from the bad guys, 'cause Daddy’s toe got a boo-boo when he was a-rescuin’ Papa, and Papa was so sorry 'bout it, but they had to be fast, so he scooped Daddy up like a Prince and they runned away together. Right, Daddy? It’s a different story?”
Stiles takes a moment to glare at Derek, who is doing a terrible job of hiding his amusement behind the curl of his fist before looking back at their daughter. “Well, sweetheart,” he begins, trying to avoid letting his mouth gape uselessly while he tries to figure out the best way to answer that doesn’t include mentioning over a decade of bickering about this particular story, or the countless times Stiles had fantasized about his version of the story being real before he’d ever donned an FBI vest, or how in the end it has never mattered that the truth is somewhere in between, and that the only thing that matters is that the rescue happened and that at the end of the day he’d had Derek’s hand in his and they’d been able to get out and move forward. Together.
“The thing about stories-”
“The important thing,” Derek says, taking the few steps needed to cross from the doorway to where Stiles sits in a soft chair next to the twin’s beds. “The best thing,” he says, settling a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, letting his fingers ruffle the hair at the nape of Stiles’ neck and flashing him a genuine grin, “Is that your daddy and I saved each other.”
Stiles reaches a hand up to squeeze Derek’s where it rests on his own shoulder, adding, “Yeah we did. And we always will.”
Derek leans down to give Stiles a warm, chaste kiss, and Stiles lets the peace that that truth gives him settle over him like a blanket. When they both whisper “Always,” into the small space created when they pull apart, it’s followed by matching smiles (and eye rolls, because they are so married it’s ridiculous).
Claude’s “Okay, but I want the toe story tomorrow night, 'kay Papa?” breaks through the moment, but it’s still kinda perfect anyway.
“Toe story it is, kiddo!” Derek assures with a smile as he moves to tuck the kids in.
“But,” Stiles insists, “You have to tell it <i>right </i>, Der. My toe was nearly <i>obliterated</i>!”
Summary of That GOT soulmark au I'll probs never write
In this au everyone in Westeros gets a soulmark at puberty, nobility mostly never tells anyone where the mark is for safety reasons and because 99% of the time highborns get matched to lowborns and that’s just sad or dangerous for all involved, the mark is only visible if the person wants to show it so soulmarks in Westeros are some high kept secret people never share and such.
Some lucky people were like Ned and Caitlin who had the marks of a silver wolf and a blue fish in their arms respectively and yayy for them. Ned was intimately the only one who ever knew his sister Lyanna had a dragon in her chest and that’s why he took in Jon, because hd knew Raegar and not Robert was her true soulmate.
Depending on the place of the mark people can tell what kind of soulmates they’re matched to, arm means strength, legs means endurance, head means intelligence and so on.
Nobody knows what the Starks had as marks because like all houses they never told.
Robb was probably the most sad because he had a thorny rose in the palm of his hand and he knew what he was giving up when he married Talisa. And despite being married to Renly for political reasons when the grey wolf in Margaery’s own hand dissapeared only Loras knew that she mourned Robb in a way only people that never get to meet their soulmates do.
Joffrey never cared to look for the girl who had his mark and Roslin Frey was better off for it when the black lion in between her shoulder blades disappeared the day the ‘king’ was poisoned.
Cersei’s mark was a golden lion in her hip, she was convinced that it meant Jamie was her other half because they were twins, Jamie loved his sister so much he lied and told her that he was, only Tyrion knew that Jamie’s mark was a sword in the underside of his arm. The Lannister cousin that shared Cersei’s mark eventually married someone from Casterly Rock and outlived her by decades, Heynri Lannister didn’t mourn the soulmate he never met, because he never knew who she was.
The sword in Jamie’s arm eventually led him to think that being a knight was his life’s calling, he served under Aerys, then Robert, then Joffrey. He crossed paths with Brienne of Tarth, grew to admire the great amazon woman greatly but it wasn’t until she named his gift 'oathkeeper’ that he knew why there was a sword in his non dominant arm. Arms were supposed to mean strength and Brienne was all that and more.
Brienne suspected the rusty Lannister pretty boy was her soulmate since the bear, knowing he had that weird thing for Cersei, Brienne didn’t bother to ask him, but she knew for sure that the sword in her dominant arm was Jamie’s when he almost died in the battle of dawn. It kept blinking in and out of existence while Jamie was being tended to the maesters of Winterfell…plus Tyrion totally tattled.
When Arya Stark had her first moon blood a black stag appeared in her leg, she didn’t care about soulmate business tough, not when she had already seen so much death and half of her family was already dead, or when the man in the house of black and white told her to cut off the skin where her mark was in her mission to become no one, and didn’t care when she decided to become Arya Stark again.
Gendry tough, he knew that Arya was his soulmate from the moment she told him who’s daughter she was, his leg had the head of a brown direwolf and how much of a coincidence could that be? He only knew her for a short time and she had her list of names but he knew he would love her even if he never saw her again.
He did see her again, in King’s Landing, Arya never knew who found who, but one minute the city was celebrating Cersei’s death and the next thing that happened Arya and Gendry were face to face. From then on its unclear if it was Arya who dragged Gendry to Winterfell or in Gendry followed Arya on his own. Point is that Sansa told everyone that Arya and Gendry were a thing and everybody took her for her word no matter how much Arya and Gendry denied it.
Samwell Tarly almost died ten times before meeting his soulmate, because of that, Gilly was fairly used to watching the owl on her shoulder appear and dissapear since way before anyone told her what soulmarks were, Sam’s was a gillyflower naturally and his father thought that it was such a stupid mark that it only accelerated his wish to send Sam to take the black. These two were such dorks, they were the type of soulmates that thought that love and destiny and survival against while walkers meant that they were always supposed to be together because 'soulmarks’. Gilly still looks down on people who give up on their soulmates and Sam eventually writes his own book studying the subject after Gilly’s boy grows up.
Sansa and Tyrion were the rare type of people who had a mark in their neck, which means that quite literally their other half will be… not good for said neck.
Sansa used to dream that her soulmate was someone like Jory, but on getting her soulmark in King’s Landing, horror of horrors Sansa thought that her mark was Joffrey’s, because she had on her neck an exact replica of the Lannister sigil in black, exept for one detail…her lion had gold dragon wings. So she consoled herself that it couldn’t be Joffrey and since she didn’t know any man who fit the description of a BLACK lion with wings, she told herself and anybody that asked that she’d never met him or her. Tyrion was the only Lannister who she thought she trusted enough to ask about the sigil but the day she finally plucked the courage was the day he was forced to tell her lady mother and Robb.
While he didn’t believe in soulmark hogwash even before Tysha, Tyrion thought that his soulmark was the most handsome thing ever, his neck had a red direwolf howling to the moon, it was a piece of artwork straight out of a artisan pen. He thought being a dwarf and a Lannister he wouldn’t ever meet his soulmate let alone be allowed to marry her so he was reckless with his dick and never paid it much attention. Even tough he fancied that he knew her when he was drunk, his neck wolf. The soulmate who could cost him his neck. He went in a very deep denial when he met the stark children, because he suspected that Sansa was his mark, even deeper during the battle of blackwater and it wasn’t until Tywin forced Tyrion to marry her that he realised that it was far more likely that HE would cost Sansa her life. So he tried to protect her and didn’t tell her.
Then Joffrey died and Sansa left and Tyrion was accused of murder. So it always came back to the neck metaphor. Tyrion and his survival and Sansa and hers.
Then of course Ramsey happened and Mereen happened and the battle of the bastards happened and Danny happened. So Tyrion and Sansa were a bit busy playing the game. It wasn’t until they saw eachother again while brokering a treaty between the south and the north with Danny and Jon that literally everyone noticed how Sansa and Tyrion simultaneously touched the same spot in their necks on sight.
Sansa never knew if it was parentage, being considered worthy to ride Viserion on becoming the hand of the 'dragon’ queen that gave the golden wings to her soulmark’s black lion, neither did Tyrion( tough Varys probably did). But for them the soulmark thing was more of a full circle kind of omen. When Danny used Sansa as an excuse to leave Tyrion in Winterfell while she mobilized supplies and troops to battle the white walkers Tyrion in Sansa’s turf was almost a thing of déjà vu when Sansa had to use HER influence as sister of the king to avoid getting Tyrion by Lannister haters.
Eventually they settled into a routine of Tyrion protecting Sansa’s neck, Sansa protecting Tyrion’s and when the war of dawn was over Tyrion took Sansa to the ruins of Casterly Rock and asked her to marry him again. They became the kind of soulmates everyone looked up to, powerful, smart and very much in love, the couple everyone else went for advice on THEIR soulmate troubles because Sansa and Tyrion went trough all these stages of loss and separation in between meeting, falling gradually inlove and getting (voluntarily) married that they usually did have an answer for everything.
Daenerys and Jon both thought that they were born witout soulmates, Viserys liked to taunt Daenerys saying that Targaryens never got things like soulmarks but Jorah was the one who told Danny when she married Khal Drogo that people with the blood of old valyria were rumored to get their soulmarks only in unusual circumstances, since the gods had a tendency to match power with more power, endurance with endurance and strenght with strength, marked Targaryens were by far the most dangerous.
When a wolf shaped icicle surounded by fire appeared in Danny’s breast the day she emerged from Drogo’s funeral pyre with her hatchlings. She knew she was destined to take back Westeros, because she was the first marked Targaryen in centuries.
Jon always thought that not having a mark meant that he was defective and that’s why he was okay with taking the black and becoming a crow, but the night Igritte died he woke up to a burning in his chest only to find the mark of an impressive white dragon just above his heart and it almost broke him.
Blood of old valyria soulmates were so unheard of that nobody could tell Danny why she kept dreaming of snow and cold, or why Jon kept seeing the sunny buildings of Essos and Mereen when he warged into ghost. Eventually they got used to it and even found it nice to have a mystical 'companion’ share their soulmark, why not let it be?, it wasn’t like it was harming anybody.
Then Jon died and Drogon had to almost burn Daenerys back to life again because she felt it all, Tyrion and Varys were worried as hell when Danny collapsed one moment and then spent a week with her children recovering from how frightening the ordeal was.
Mellisandre saw Jon’s mark when she revived him, she warned him that there was only only one person that dragon could belong to but Jon didn’t listen. Not to her or the fire God. He knew the heart of the person his mark matched and it wasn’t some egomaniacal people burning dragon queen.
To be fair when Danny told Tyrion what her mark looked like the imp knew her soulmate was someone she might want dead, but he did tell her who he suspected. And likewise Danny didn’t listen, because the very idea was ridiculous.
Ironically when Jon and Danny met for the first time in the battlefield after Danny took the throne from Cersei, it was Raegal and Ghost who recognized eachother like some sort of long lost animal brothers. Forcing Danny and Jon to admit that they had a problem, Danny didn’t want to kill her soulmate anymore than Jon wanted to kill his and they were in the middle of a battle.
So Sansa and Tyrion were called in to broker a ceasefire and in the process Jon and Danny joined forces to fight the real threat to Westeros: the night’s king, Daenerys almost died, Jon almost died, even when they held lightbringer together and pushed it in the monster’s stomach there was a moment both thought that they wouldn’t make it, but they did and when Westeros united itself once again to celebrate the end of winter nobody was surprised to hear that the people wanted them BOTH in the iron throne. And since Jon refused to live without Daenerys anymore and Daenerys was willing to execute anybody who told her she couldn’t keep Jon, it was decided that on marrying Danny Jon would in good faith take the Targaryen name for the sake of any offspring they might have.
An: so yeah I wish I could write this, but I have to many projects and cant, still at least now you know the condensed version.
“What’s it like?” Bittle asked one evening as they settled on Jack’s couch with their nightcaps: red wine for Bittle, chamomile tea for Jack. “Being bi?”
Jack chuckled. “That’s a complicated questions, Bits.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Bittle said, taking a small sip of the petite syrah Jack’s parents had sent them after Jack announced their relationship. “You’ve heard all my bellyachin’ about growing up gay in Georgia-” He was cut off momentarily by the beginnings of Jack’s protests, but waved him off. “Fine, my completely legitimate struggles. Better?”
Jack grinned and nodded. Bittle rolled his eyes fondly.
“But you rarely talk about your experiences. When did you know you weren’t straight? How did you realize you liked girls and boys? Was it harder or easier or just different being bi in Juniors?”
“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Jack said mildly, blowing at the steam rising from his mug.
“Of course I have,” Bittle said with an exasperated look. “I think about you a lot.”
So, we all know there are A LOT of things Harry does that turn Draco on. Immensely. But I keep picturing this one thing…
Whenever Draco is staring at Harry in the Great Hall, in classes, in the corridors, on the Quidditch pitch - basically everywhere - he gets flustered when Harry touches his glasses. Especially when they’re in the middle of trading insults and Harry pushes up his glasses in defiance, paired with a heated scowl.
Whenever that happens, all Draco can think about is stepping closer to Harry and slowly sliding those glasses down his nose. He’d watch Harry’s eyes go wide, his mouth slightly open as Draco continues to slowly take off his glasses.
When Draco’s eyes flicker to Harry’s mouth, the other boy would gulp. Draco would lean in and purposefully breathe on Harry’s lips. His gaze would wander back up to those green eyes and he wouldn’t be able to suppress a grin. Because finally he can see those eyes up close and undistorted. They’re beautiful.
Harry would be breathing heavily at this point and when Draco can’t take the tension any more, he would put a hand on Harry’s hip and pull him towards him. Their lips would move together and Harry would sling his arms around Draco’s neck. It would be glorious. It already is in his mind.
So I’m pretty sure Draco is ready to come in his pants when one evening, in eighth year, after a Quidditch match, his fantasy finally comes true.