anonymous asked:

So... you're my soulmate. Holy!

A/N: yay another one done!  slowly chipping away :)  Hope you enjoy

Also available on FF and Ao3!


It isn’t often that Harry gets drunk – buzzed sure – but drunk is less frequent and usually not intentional. Which is the case this particular Saturday evening.  He and Ron close a big case they’d been working on and end up at the Leaky Cauldron, throwing back a few Firewhiskys before either of them have a chance to order something to put on their stomachs.

All of this explains why a pajama-clad Ginny is flooing to the Leaky with an endeared huff rather than preparing to read him the riot act and deprive him of all pain relief methods available.

With a nod to a smirking Hannah as she wipes down glasses behind the bar, Ginny tugs her oversized cloak tighter around her shoulders and prods Harry’s shoulder where he’s slumped over the table.  “Ready to get going, dear?”

He turns to blink at her blearily and slurs, “Ginny. How’d y’get here?”

Ginny grins and rumples his hair, grateful the dynamic duo at least had the foresight to pick a secluded booth, and tugs him up from the seat. “Up you get famous Auror.”

Finally catching on to the turn of events, Ron slides out of the booth after Harry, nearly wiping out on the sticky ancient wood floor in the process, and clumsily catches Ginny’s sleeve.  “Where’s ‘mione?”

Patting his arm placatingly, Ginny tosses her head in the direction of Hannah’s office.  Hermione’s already on her way over still dressed in her best robes – working late again, ever the workaholic – and wearing a bemused expression.  “I take it they solved it, then?”

In a staggering but impressively speedy flurry, Hermione and Ginny manage to get their husbands to their respective homes with promises to catch up when the boys were more lucid.

By the time Ginny and Harry arrive in their flat, his wiry arms are banded around her middle as he nuzzles at her neck in a less than suave manner.  “Gin. Hey Gin.”

Despite herself, his nearness and warm searching fingers make her breath catch, but she steels herself and tosses her borrowed cloak toward the coat rack and manages to snag it on an empty spoke.  Quidditch skills. 

Rapidly, Harry’s becoming dead weight and Ginny struggles to tote him toward their bedroom, stripping him out of his clothes and down to his underthings.  He loses his balance and drops back onto the mattress with a bounce.  “Didn’t know y’felt this way Gin.”

She comes back in with some headache remedies and pulls Harry toward the loo so he can brush his teeth – rather so she can.  He’s still looking rabid when he tugs on the hem of her oversized shirt.  “So.”

Ginny hands him a cup full of water and he manages to gargle and spit with a minimal amount of dribbling down his bare chest – which is surprisingly enticing.  Got it bad Weasley.

Soon enough she’s wrangled him under the covers, her lamp dimly lighting her side of the bed as she makes to resume the muggle mystery novel Hermione had lent her.  Just as the doorknob jiggles in the darkened room where the heroine hides, Harry throws his arm across Ginny’s middle and nuzzles against her thigh, mumbling incoherently.

Rolling her eyes, she runs her fingers through his messy mop and settles the book into her free hand.  Harry rubs his nose against her side, pushing her shirt up and exposing the freckled skin beneath.   “Gin.”

“What are you dreaming about silly?” Ginny smirks to herself, but Harry’s aparrently not asleep.  One emerald eye opens and looks at her mischievously.  “Y’want to know something?”

With a sigh, Ginny dog ears her book and tosses it toward the end table.  “Always.”

His hand trips across her stomach, fingers swirling around her belly button rather deftly for one so otherwise inebriated.  “You’re my – we’re soulmates.”

Ginny almost wants to laugh, given his state, but he manages to say it with such gravity that she bites back her smile and slides down the pillows and lays next to him.  “Yeah?”

Harry’s hum comes out a low, tired rumble as he shifts closer, brushing his nose across hers.  “Yeah.  But not like – we picked each other.”

Unable to help the chuckle this time, Ginny presses her smile to his, letting her hands brush up his spine, deepening the kiss. Regardless of blood alcohol level, her husband never disappoints in the snogging department.  She pulls her lips a breath away and grins, “And to think it’s all thanks to my killer Quidditch skills and daring deeds.”

He’s nibbling at her ear when he snorts, “I think you’ll find it’s thanks to my daring dee- wait are you saying you kissed me?”

Letting out a loud laugh, Ginny prods his chest, “You would’ve waffled around for another month without – “

Her argument is lost to the insistent press of Harry’s mouth against hers.  In between kisses he murmurs, “How about we call it even wife.”

Rolling onto her back, Ginny tugs him to hover over her, “I think I need some convincing.”

Miraculously, in Ginny’s opinion, Harry manages to keep up with a heated snog for almost a quarter of an hour before his body becomes too much dead weight.  And as much as she’d like to press on, it’s not in the cards – for a whole host of reasons. 

Still, when she gently guides him to rest his head against her shoulder, Harry lets out a pitiful whine and his lips search for hers rather comically, “I owe you, soulmate.”

She laughs again, adjusting his head so it rests just over her heart, and gently brushes her fingers through his hair, “Soulmate or no, you never owe me anything.”

“That s’not what you said when I made you change Victoire’s nappy,” Harry mumbles, drifting off quickly despite his protestations.

Sighing, Ginny presses her lips to his forehead chastely. “Are you ever not a ball of sass.”

“Nah, I think it’s hered-,” he breaks off with a large, jaw-cracking yawn, “heredi-“

“Go to sleep, Mr Auror.”

Aparrently someone ask Liam about Larry and he denied it. Like wtf???? Did they actually think Liam will confirm it??? Whether that person is an anti or a Larrie. You can’t fucking ask that!! Do they actually know the concept of being in the closet cause idk about this people who still ask about it. It is fucking stupid!!! Liam will not just going to out them.I am so piss right now!!! It is Liam solo career ask him about his music and not a stupid fucking thing!!! Larries who are not out of their minds just want them to be happy and not out them they can be out whenever they want. We do not force them to be out or be outed by anyone we just want to see them happy. Stop asking about Larry!!!! 

A rare set of polaroids(?) taken onset VOTD 1967.

I found something very very creepy while watching sadly a Manson documentary as I  do summerschool and I took a true crime class.

Aparrently after Terry Melcher moved out of Cielo Drive. Charlie went to the house looking for him to get revenge and instead encountered Hatami and Tate in the middle of a promotional photoshoot for I beileve it was for the Wrecking Crew as it was in early 1968. But watching the dramatization made me very very sick. It’s sad nobody knew what was coming next…

So someone commented on my blog about

Levi “abusing” Eren

Saying that she wanna fuck me and I should stop romantisicing pedophilia and abuse.

Aparrently as much as she’s some innocent saint, I found out that she craves for mofo attention as she was consuming glitter just to have notifications on her blog. (woah there)

So I just want to clear things out before she throws her glittery apeshit again.

I DO NOT ROMANTICISE PEDOPHILIA AND ABUSE. (I don’t promote nor demote any kind of sexual fetishes of shites)

That blog was supposed to portray how Ereri (Eren and Levi) would go into some loveydovey situations, mind the fact that Levi is really a Tsundere and Eren is more of a submissive person with Levi, I’M JUST MAKING MY FUJOSHIT LIFE THE BEST AS I CAN BE, so I just can’t ignore your glittery trash comment on my blog.

Fuck off. I’m cancerous.

ascending-from-perdition  asked:

So first I will say tots best blog ever I love everything about it so convenient. If I'm bored before class it's just like YESSSS I can go read dirty Sterek smutt. x3 but anyways I've been into the Alpha Stiles and I was wondering if there are any more of the ones where he's like known as the bad ass alpha nobody wants to fuck with.


Sacrifices by niquess (1/1 | 7,403 | G)

Stiles spluttered, coughing on his own saliva. Choking for a few minutes, his face was flushed and red. Finally picking up the fallen phone, stiles was unsure of what to say.
“it sounded like you said you wanted- “
“I do, I want you”

The Alpha pack are in Beacon Hills - but they want someone unexpected. What will Stiles do? Keep it to himself, or make the ultimate sacrifice?

The Better Alpha by buffylover (3/? | 7,436 | NR)

Stiles was banished from the Hale Territory for college. For his own safety Derek said. But Derek never makes good choices and Stiles is bitten by an Alpha.

Who knew his life would be so good?
There are going to be lots and lots of flashbacks. they will be between the ****** symbols

A Turn Of Luck by AlexTheShipper (1/1 | 3,170 | PG13)

Derek Hale was about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder when a pale man with moles led him off stage. Aparrently the cops were here to stop the omega trafficking ring, as if Derek was ever that lucky.

ąćęłńóśźż by gallusanonymus (1/1 | 1,986 | PG13)

“Are you always that loud? You might gave me an idea or two.” This Derek guy? He’s freaking smooth. “Did you think that I’d let you sleep alone after what has happened ealier?” Derek asked, suggestively rocking his hips, letting Stiles know what exactly was on his mind.

“How did you even… Did you get here throught the window?”

“It was open.”

Or: The very Sterek story on how a book can complicate everything, and how Derek saves the day. Again. What a hero.

here comes trouble by grimm (4/4 | 105,833 | NC17)

All Derek wants is one day where he can sleep without worry of being woken by gunfire, without the threat of death hanging over his head. He wants a full stomach and no pain clinging to his bones, no ache in his feet from months of running. He wants a shower, a safe place to put his head. He wants his family, the healing comfort of pack. He’ll never have any of that again.