continuous glass


Petals fall
With every motion
Taking all
Of my emotion

Carried away
By the breeze
Maybe someday
I’ll be at ease

Finally finished my glass flute painting. I’m in the midst of busy moving so there won’t be much for a while. After the move I’m excited to start on Fisheye Placebo and Knite again, as well as continuing the glass instrument series (I think I will do drums next).

I also aim to get a laser cutter and 3D printer to explore art in different mediums. I love digital, but it’s nice to work with something tangible as well :)

the white album explained (part 1)
  • back in the ussr: the beatles are the red beach boys (they forgot their sunblock)
  • dear prudence: "hey prudence farrow you haven't eaten in days stop meditating won't you come out to pla--wait omg stay there i had an idea" -john lennon
  • glass onion: can everyone shut up paul isn't dead (yes he is)
  • obla di obla da: life goes on, brah (still the red beach boys)
  • wild honey pie: george's wife wanted to end the beatles
  • bungalow bill: john tries to get yoko and the other beatles to hang out with each other
  • while my guitar gently weeps: george likes eric clapton
  • happiness is a warm gun: the beatles take a break from the hippy shit and preach violence
  • martha my dear: paul likes his dog
  • im so tired: oh john can't sleep at night, but just the same, i never weep at night, i call your name
  • blackbird: paul is a little late to the civil rights movement but that's what dying can do to a guy
  • piggies: reverse animal farm (regular farm)
  • rocky raccoon: he was a fool onto himself
  • don't pass me by: ringo,,,,good job
  • why don't we do it in the road:
  • i will: he will
  • julia: john writes a song about his mom à la paul style

Title: Dive

Pairing: Female reader x Dean

Theme song: Dive by Ed Sheeran

Summary: Dean’s catching feelings for the reader and needs to be convinced to dive in

A/N: This song just has such quiet bar vibes. 

Word count: 2,000ish

Your name: submit What is this?

The old bartender working the quiet Tuesday afternoon shift had poured Dean another glass of whiskey before he’d even opened his mouth to ask for it. Dean looked up from his hands long enough to give a nod of thanks before pulling the new glass to his lips and taking a sip.

The bartender returned the bottle to its shelf and smiled behind his wiry beard.

“Thought you could use another,” he said, “You’ve got that look.”

“You’re not wrong,” Dean said.  The man waited; Dean said nothing.

“So what is it?” he pressed. “Love? Money?”

“Those the usual culprits?” Dean asked. The bartender kept his smile, waiting. Dean looked down at his glass again and turned it slow in his hands. Pushing away from the counter, the old man grabbed a mostly dirty rag and started away, taking the hint and his leave.

“You let me know if you need another,” he said over his shoulder.

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So, @ernmark‘s Penumbera musical post got @typehere452 and I a bit inspired, and we wrote Juno and Peter’s Rex’s love song for the end. We’re planning on actually putting up a recording of us singing it tomorrow, but until then, we figured we’d post some of the lyrics as a sort of teaser.

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Social Simulation

“And over here, kids, is our Society Simulation chamber.” the professor gestured towards a wide array of supercomputers that filled a chamber the size of a warehouse. Each of the computers was the size and shape of a small brick house.

Some of the kids gasped aloud at the enormous size of the room while others waved some of the server engineers, who waved them back. The professor continued as she lead them up the stairs towards a watching room. A smart glass served as an observation port to the computers below.

“Each of these computers is simulating a society of AI people. Their growth as a species from simple bit gatherers to complex civilizations with entire data economies. Our findings have been very interesting to say the least. Here, let me show you around.” she continued. The smart glass lit up and began zooming in on a variety of computers.

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Song of Fire Epilogue

I don’t know man, I just decided to go with it and write one more chapter. @chaoslaborantin advice is always goals. Answering asks about Kira has also made me want to write her a little older and I also came up with a somewhat realistic plan for Mare and Cal… so roll with it I guess??? (some adorable fluff ahead, but also like serious shit too so be prepared)

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Well… she did know how to open it… (Anna and Remington (my ocs) and 2017) Happy New Year!

anonymous asked:

Rowaelin-both have the same target/break into the same place and run into each other?

Rowan sucked in a deep, steady breath before propelling himself off the roof of a building and through the open window of the building adjacent to it.  Curling himself into a ball at the very last second, the white haired thief just barely made it through the window pane without hitting the edges.  Hitting the carpeted office floor, he somersaulted once to ward off any possible injury and hopped to his feet in one smooth, graceful motion.  Rolling his shoulders back, stretching the muscles in them and his back out and warming them out for his next task.  His job was a simple one: go in, retrieve the wanted item, and get out before anyone realized he’d ever been there.  Step one was complete.  He was in the office building of one Athril Dearst, the ‘people’s champion’ and current D.A. for the city of Wendlyn.  He’d stolen something from his boss, the notorious mafiosa of the neighboring metropolis, Doranelle, Maeve, and she wanted it back.

Rowan didn’t know what exactly Athril had stolen from Maeve, and he didn’t particularly care, but he knew enough to locate what had been taken. Maeve had told him he’d find it somewhere in Athril’s desk.  A file.  That’s what he’d been told.  A thick one, too. With a plastic, evidence bag containing a small, golden ring inside.  Once he discovered the ring, Maeve had ordered, he need not to look further.  Vaguely, in the back of his mind, the white haired thief wondered how Athril–or one of his minions–had gotten so close to his boss to steal something of any real value, but it wasn’t his place to ask.  Asking questions would amount to nothing, anyway, except, perhaps, his death.  But Maeve knew who she was sending in to do her dirty work.  Rowan Whitethorn was the best Cleaner in the country.  If you wanted a mess cleaned up, you called Rowan.

He was a third of the way through his schedule, now he just had to find the file and get out without being seen.  That had never been a problem for the thief before, so he couldn’t fathom it being one now.  He was an efficient, calculated worker.  He’d scouted the area for forty eight hours prior to his infiltration.  He knew the custodians schedules by heart.  He knew that even if the lawyers and interns weren’t going home to their families they weren’t sticking around to work on a Friday night.  And he also knew that due to a construction project occurring down the street–one that was not fully up to city code and regulation–the power lines to the city block would be down for a grand total of two minutes and thirty seven minutes, security cameras included.  That was more than enough time for a professional such as himself.  

Yes, everything was going exactly to plan.  That is, until he opened the door to the D.A.’s office and found a young, pretty blonde woman sitting behind the desk with her legs stretched out atop it, one crossed over the other.  Her gaze was down turned towards the file that laid in her lap, and turning over and over across her fingers was Maeve’s gold ring.  “Took you long enough,” the woman said by way of greeting.  “And here I thought you might prove to be a challenge.”

“What’re you doing here?” Rowan growled, his green eyes narrowing on her form.  It was casual, but almost too casual, like she was luring him in to a false sense of security.  He didn’t need to ask who she was–her looks and behavior answered that question easily enough.  Before him sat Adarlan’s Assassin.  Rumor was her name was Celaena something or other, but the white haired man didn’t put much stock in rumors.  Her real name was irrelevant, however.  The more pressing question was what was an assassin doing in the D.A.’s office?  Followed quickly by and why does she have Maeve’s file?    

The assassin hummed noncommittally, keeping her gaze on the file before her.  “Same as you, I’d expect.”  She finally raised her gaze to his and only Rowan’s years of training kept him from blinking appreciatively.  She was beautiful, even with a skin peeling smirk cutting across her full lips.  She was dangerous.  Every cell in Rowan’s body was screaming at him that she was.  But then again, he thought as a smirk pulled at his own lips, so was he.  

“Now, as far as I can see it we’ve got two options here,” she explained, removing her feet slowly from the desk and standing.  She flipped Maeve’s file shut and tapped the manila cover with her pointer finger.  “We could either fight over this thing and probably use up the remaining minute we’ve got left before the security comes back on–which would be pretty rutting stupid,” she gave him a pointed look, as if daring him to be that stupid.  “Or,” she quirked a brow and pushed the file across the desk, “you take the damn file and we go our separate ways–pretending like this conversation never happened.”

Tilting his head a bit, he asked, “That’s it?  You’re just going to give up your prize without a fight?  What would your client say?”

Shrugging, the assassin cocked a hip and rested her hand on it, “I’ve already read through the juicy parts.  I don’t need the actual thing.”

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Rowan stepped up and secured the file.  He opened his mouth, about to inquire about the ring, when suddenly the blonde haired woman was standing right next to him.  Stiffening, but not moving away–she was fast, he internally cursed himself for not monitoring her movement, for letting his guard down even just a bit–he peered down at her.  “I’ve heard about you, you know,” she purred, her blue eyes glinting in the dim light.  “Rowan Whitethorn, infamous Cleaner.  Second to none.” Patting his upper arm, she lightly drew her fingers down his bicep.  “The rumors never mentioned how handsome you were.  They’re not doing you justice.”  A pretty blush bloomed over her cheeks, and Rowan realized suddenly how young she was.  She couldn’t be a day over twenty.  If that.

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” Rowan responded coolly.  He wasn’t about to be fooled by a pretty face.  This woman was a viper’s nest, just waiting to strike.  

She blinked, shock shattering through her carefully crafted mask.  Rowan quirked a brow and grinned victoriously.  The girl had created a name for herself, no one would doubt that, but the assassin was hardly a spy.  And seeing her youth, her inexperience shown through.  She was a good killer, but didn’t have the discipline for espionage.  Maybe in a few more years, Rowan mused.

Snatching her hand back as if she’d been burned, the assassin’s blush grew and she timidly looked down at her feet. She began to shift her feet restlessly, another sign of her inexperience. Fiddling with her fingers, she murmured, “Celaena.”

“Nice to meet you Celaena,” Rowan chuckled, and watched as Celaena’s face twisted into a scowl.

Pouting, the assassin pushed the file further into his chest and huffed, “Ugh, just take the stupid thing and leave!”  Then, in a dramatic fashion that could only belong to a teenager, Celaena turned heel and disappeared down the hall. Shaking his head and chuckling a bit more, Rowan figured he had about twenty more seconds before the power came back on and quickly made his escape out the building and into the faceless city streets. 

It was only later–much, much later–that Rowan realized that in getting caught up in Celaena’s dramatic, teen-aged bull, he’d completely forgotten about Maeve’s ring. Stopping in the middle of the street, he slapped his hand to his forehead and groaned. 


hamilton + death reactions

Can you do a headcannon of Hamilton characters reaction to your death?


  • he wasn’t sure how to react at first
  • he couldn’t wrap his head around the thought of not only his wife, but his best friend leaving him alone in life
  • at first he hated you for leaving him
  • he found it selfish that you so willingly were gone and left him alone to forever think about you
  • but now he was torn apart more than ever
  • nobody
  • and he means nobody
  • could ever replace you 
  • no matter what his friends tell him, he will never get over you


  • how does one react to losing the love of their life?
  • especially when he witnessed it right before his own eyes?
  • john would never drive down that road again
  • he knew that if he just so glanced at the small memorial friends set up for you beside the road, he might just swerve and lose control on the spot
  • every time he steps into the garage and sees his car, all he can be reminded of are memories of the two of you
  • he will never be the same


  • he still does things he once did when you were alive out of habit 
  • when he gets home from work, he puts down his things and goes to bring you a glass of water to leave beside your bed
  • he gets half way up the stairs before he suddenly remembers
  • he has a collection of glasses of water on the side of your bed
  • he doesn’t have the heart to dump them out
  • he just continues to bring you glasses of water and wash and fold your towels and put them on the bottom towel rack like you always did
  • he was just numb and like a broken record player
  • he couldn’t stop doing the things he did for you


  • he tries to act like he’s handling things well
  • and on the outside, he’s doing pretty well
  • in fact, on the inside, he isn’t as bad either
  • that is until you step into his house
  • and you see the sweatshirts you left on the couch a month ago still sitting there
  • and your extra toothbrush on the counter beside his
  • and your clothes in the bottom left drawer of his dresser
  • and your perfume placed on top of his dresser 
  • he never had the heart to throw away any of your things
  • and nobody ever has the heart to tell him to


  • he makes himself sick from how much he tries to avoid the thought of you
  • whenever somebody ever so mentions you, he leaves the room or changes the subject
  • he blocks you out of his memory so much he practically forgets the sound of your voice and the feeling you gave him
  • he knew how upset you would be with him
  • he was hopeless without you though
  • he was doomed to never be happy again and he knew it


  • she rereads every single letter, note, poem, and text you’ve ever sent her each day
  • she slept on your grave for the first month since you passed away
  • she has this look in her eyes like she’s seen a ghost
  • she sometimes refers to you as though you were alive still
  • “I can’t wait to show this to Y/N!”
  • “Oh wait.”


  • she’s fairly strong when it comes to your death
  • the first few months afterwards though, she was completely broken
  • she would wear your clothes everywhere and listen to only your music
  • she would never go out and make up excuses not to go out 
  • people often saw her at your grave
  • talking to it as though the gravestone was you sitting there
  • some people believed that’s what she saw


  • she doesn’t know how to react quite frankly
  • she just has a fair off look to her eyes
  • no words ever are detected by her 
  • she just nods or shakes her head and sometimes shrugs
  • she’s just in a constant state of shock
  • she’s become accustomed to the way you lived, she begins to embody your habits 
  • she orders her coffee the same, reads the same books, sometimes even talks the same
  • there’s nobody who could replace you and nobody had the heart to tell her to try and move on


  • he feels like his world has come crashing down
  • he hears that everyone has a breaking point
  • and being as headstrong as he was he never thought he’d have one
  • that was until your death
  • and he slowly just started deteriorating
  • and he sometimes hallucinated and saw you
  • people began to question his stability
  • thomas jefferson finally broke


  • it was especially difficult for james since nobody knew about your relationship
  • you and james were planning to tell everybody about your relationship that night
  • that was until you never showed up to james’s house
  • and hours went by
  • that was until james was told you passed away in a car crash
  • nobody ever understood why james was so undeniably heartbroken
  • and why he put fresh flowers on your grave every single week
  • but they never asked why
  • and they never asked why he blamed himself for your death


pairing: klaus mikaelson x reader, past matt donovan x reader

word count: 2462

a/n: not a request xx

You were tired.

That’s the excuse you had used, at least.

Tired and drunk.

You two had been talking for so long. His presence had filled you with a sense of content, his voice lulling you into warm sleepiness. You had no idea how many drinks he’d bought you. You knew it had surprised him, you initiating the kiss, and you’d like to say that you surprised yourself, but that wasn’t exactly the truth.

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Originally posted by multifandomimagines-17

“And what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” Peter asked, smirking at you from across the counter. “Making a living. Units don’t appear out of thin air, ya know?” You picked up a glass from the counter and began to wipe it clean.

“Got a bit of sass? I like that. The name’s Star-Lord.” Peter held out a hand for you to shake. You only glanced at it and continued to wipe the glass. “I know who you are, Peter Quill. The Terran hero.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, intrigued.”So you’ve heard of me. I bet it’s not that often you see a Terran, huh?” You let out a laugh. “Only when I look in the mirror.” Peter’s eyes widened. “You’re a Terran?”

“Sure am.”

“I haven’t seen another Terran in years!” Peter said in partial shock. You smiled. “Well, you got somethin’ to write with?” “Yeah, why?” The man replied. You playfully rolled your eyes. “How can you contact me if you don’t have my info?”

A smile formed on Peter’s face. “Really?” You nodded. “Yeah. You’ve proven you’re not a jackass like all the other guys I meet here.” You glanced around and noticed some drunk guy winking at you. You shuddered and looked back at Peter. “I better not be wrong.” You warned.

Peter raised his arms in defense. “I’m not I’m not. I promise.” He pulled a pen out of one of his pockets and handed it to you. “Give me your hand.” You instructed. He obeyed and held it out as you scribbled some stuff on it. “There you go.”

Peter smiled at you as he looked at his hand. “(Name)? That’s really pretty. I guess I’ll talk to you soon, huh?”

You nodded. “I guess you will.”

Bathing Suit

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Notes: Established relationship, one-shot, no smut (it’s implied), pool parties, low self-esteem, shopping, Reader hates shopping, Bucky is a supportive boyfriend, based on real events

Summary: Bucky tries inviting the you, his girlfriend, to a cookout and a pool party the Avengers are hosting at the compound, but you decline because you don’t have a bathing suit. You haven’t owned one in years, actually. Bucky takes you out shopping for one, and the whole day you come up empty-handed and upset. That is, until you find the bathing suit that changes everything.

A/N: So I bought a bathing suit for the first time in YEARS this weekend. Saturday seriously sucked for me. In the middle of my drudgery of trying to find a suit that actually looked decent, I came up with this idea for a fic. I hope you like it! Let me know if you did, and enjoy! ^_^

“Oh c’mon Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find something you like in no time.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Bucky. You were in and out of store like that!” you snapped your fingers on your last word to emphasize how quick Bucky got his new bathing suit. It was true, though. You and Bucky were literally in and out of Target in 15 minutes, and within that time he managed to find a pair of swimming trunks that of course made him look ridiculously hot, and all just for $20, too.

You on the other hand weren’t so lucky. It took you ages to find anything that you thought looked all right to you, and bathing suits were the worst offenders. Your bad luck with bathing suits had gotten to you so much, you quit trying to find one ages ago. In fact, it had been five years since you’ve owned a bathing suit. Maybe longer, you thought to yourself. It’s been so long you actually forgot exactly when you quit. But today’s shopping excursion reminded you of why you quit in the first place.

It was Bucky’s idea to take you out shopping. Last weekend, the entire Avengers team decided to have a cookout and a pool party. It was something they hardly had the time to do since they were too busy with missions, training, and other Avenger specific obligations. Each team member was allowed to invite a few friends, and of course Bucky invited you, his girlfriend. He was shocked and confused when you declined. You were always up for visiting at the compound, so why were you refusing now? When he asked, you gave him a simple reason.

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Originally posted by dailycwriverdale


author’s note: hiya! here is a jughead and archie imagine i came up with out of the blue. enjoy! 

pairing: reader x jughead x archie (platonic)

     YOU SAT ALONE IN THE RED LEATHER BOOTH, scooping the whip cream from your second chocolate milkshake with the tip of your finger. Groups of teenagers entered the diner one after another, laughter escaping their mouths as they all crammed into the empty booths surrounding the one you occupied. You sighed softly to yourself, becoming jealous of how happy the group of friends looked, and wishing yours could act the same. 

     For a split second your memory brought back to the night before, placing you in front of Archie again and forcing you to relive everything that happened in that moment. A wave of emotions quickly crashed down on you, thrusting you out of your thoughts and back into reality. 

     “Hey-” Pop called out to you as he continued to clean the glass in his hands, “You look a bit distracted tonight. Everything okay?” 

     You looked up to see the diner’s owner staring at you with a concerned expression overcoming his face. Pop had become the father-figure to the many teens who visited the Chock’lit Shoppe, always taking the time out of his day to ask each and every visitor how their day is going, and in this circumstance checking up on those who seemed to be having a rough night.

     A small smile crept up on your face, “I’m good, thank you. Just… exhausted I guess you could say.” You leaned forward to take a sip of your milkshake, watching as Pop set the now-cleaned glass on the counter. 

     “With Jason’s death and all I can see why. You going to the game tonight?” Suddenly the thought of Jughead popped in your mind, and how you’d completely forgotten the plans you had to meet up with him at the game. You agreed earlier in the week to help him out with his investigation into Dilton for the school newspaper, as Jughead strongly believed he was lying about what he was doing at SweetWater River the night Jason was killed. While excited to help him, you also dreaded the idea of having to go to the game. 

     “Actually yeah, I am.” Your smile had faded as the thought of having to see Archie at the football game also entered your mind. You sat back in the booth, your eyes falling low while the argument from last night replayed like a movie in your memory, forcing you to revisit all the hurt you’d felt in that very exact moment. 

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so I’m sure someone’s already thought of this but consider: Evan Hansen with glasses

like he would have a nervous tic where he’s constantly pushing them back up his face even though they haven’t slid down and he always fumbles and gets fingerprints on his glasses so the lenses are all smudgy and he’s constantly taking them off and wiping them with the bottom of his shirt

and I bet the frames would irritate him so he’d only wear them when Strictly Necessary like when he’s driving or in class and he’s probably accidentally left them on desks or in the library and he has to do the walk of shame back to classrooms to grab his glasses because glasses are expensive af and his mother would actually murder him if he lost them

and I bet he has the type that changes to sunglasses outside (idk what they’re called) so he’s always wandering around half blind when he comes back inside wearing them and keeps walking into stuff

and I bet his frames are round and very Harry Potter-esque because he got them when Harry Potter was the shit and he thought they were dope and they just haven’t had the money/he hasn’t felt the need to replace them

whenever he goes to the eye doctor, he feels too nervous to tell them that the frames are a little askew but sometimes the lady notices and readjusts them for him but she always messes it up a little so they’re just slightly crooked and it’s kind of annoying because one side sits like a centimeter higher on his face than the other and it bothers him but he still doesn’t say anything because Anxiety

and Jared makes a bunch of four-eyes jokes and Evan always reminds him that he has glasses too but Jared is just like “ye but mine aren’t lame like yours” and continues to make glasses jokes

so yeah Evan with glasses

(ps Zoe would one hundred percent steal them at some point and put them on and be like “damn Evan you’re blind” and Evan would just be like wow I’m so blessed Zoe Murphy’s wearing my glasses)

knock on wood

this is from miracle’s new chapter you’ve got mail, loved the jily part a lot and wanted to share it here too with those of you who are not reading the fic, it’s been a while since I wrote anything Jily related.

“Still pining, Moony?”

“I never got to taste him,” objected Remus jokingly. “Makes him ten times more appealing and you saw him, he is a fucking greek god.”

“And then he pissed me off,” she replied with that familiar scolding tone she had. “At least don’t look so desperate.”


What?” she said innocently. “If that’s what makes you happy, if he genuinely is what you think he is, go for it Rem and if he breaks your heart again, I will break his legs.”

“I’m glad you got my back,” smiled Remus. “That wanker boyfriend of yours would never do that.”

“I heard that!” yelled James from the other side. 

“Is it a lie?”

“I mean,” answered James sounding a little unsure now. “He was gonna get me tickets to the FA Cup Final.”

“Ugh, Potter,” said Lily and Remus felt her roll her eyes, there was scrambling noises coming from the other side of the phone.

“Oh- OW EVANS, that hurt,” shouted James, Lily was probably running after him in the house after that snarky comment. “Stop, trying. to. kick. me. YOU ARE FIVE FOOT NOTHING EVANS”

“I’m gonna hang up now,” laughed Remus.

“Yeah, sure,” panted Lily, that must have been one fight. “Love you, Moony”

“Love you, too, redhead.”

“Oh Potter, you shouldn’t have dragged my height into this,” laughed Lily as she tried to catch her boyfriend over the sofa and she threw the phone away carelessly

“But you are so… what’s the word?” James waited for a moment before continuing, pushed his glasses up his nose and grinned. “Ah, yes. Tiny.”


“I love it when you call my name,” he teased with a smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow. Lily was trying not to get caught up on his face because that was how she always lost these stupid fights. 

The way his mouth curled, the way his eyebrow shot up so effortlessly, his dark skin so flawless and soft and … no. She climbed up the sofa to attack the taller boy but his old reflexes were still in place and he had grabbed her by the waist and was now holding her from just below her thighs just so she can wrap his legs around his waist but Lily Evans never gave up without a fight, so for now she just dangled her feet.

“I love that you are tiny, Lils,” said James with a smile on his face, not the teasing one, the one that made Lily feel at home. “Let’s kiss and make up?”

“No,” said Lily as she tried to break free but he was too strong for him and when James buried his face in her neck she let out an involuntary laugh. “That’s not fair.”

“You smell like flowers,” he continued as he placed a soft, wet kiss on Lily’s neck that made her gasp a little bit. “I’ll never get over how beautiful you are even when we are old and grumpy.”

His eyes were so intense, Lily felt like he was being drawn into a blackhole.

“And this is how you get away with everything, you git,” she said as she wrapped her legs around James’ waist. She let her fingers get tangled in his messy locks before she leant in to give a small kiss to his boyfriend. “Now let me down.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” grinned James as he made her jump a little to get a better grasp of her, his hand were so familiar on Lily’s legs and she could feel his grip get a little bit tighter, just the right amount.

James had a way with Lily, it was like magic. When he tilted his head just a little bit she was already hearing her own heart beats and it was soft but hungry kisses, his hair brushing on Lily’s forehead and it was so hard to breathe, when his grip got a bit tighter, she let out a moan, he just knew everything about her now. The power she gave to him was ridiculous, but he was ridiculous, too. It was the way he knew just the right time to slide his tongue in, the way they were in such harmony with eyes closed. He had started walking and without hesitation Lily knew where they were going and soon enough she felt the wooden door behind her. James kept her pinned to the door as his hands cupped her cheek ever so softly making Lily want to go mad, now his fingers were in her hair tugging gently and her back arched making him smile, she could feel it on her lips. 

“James, the door,” she whispered barely.

“No,” he objected and he was pulling her hair a bit harder exposing her neck to him. He trailed down with the softest of kisses, her jawline, her neck and nibbing at her collarbones making Lily hum happily. She loved that James took his time with her but sometimes she just wanted him to throw her on the bed already.


His hands were trailing up and down her arched back and it was about time, he would just open the bloody door. She tried finding the door knob as he was busy making her go crazy but her hand was pinned above her in a matter of seconds. 

“Jamie,” she begged. “The door, please.”

“I told you I loved it when you said my name,” smirked James as he pinned her against to wall harder with his hips and Lily barely kept herself contained however James didn’t, his eyes locked on hers like the world would end if he didn’t. Lily tried throwing her head back but she didn’t have much space, so she just closed her eyes and licked her lips, two could play this game. He took a deep breath and Lily’s top was gone in the flash of an eye. Lily freed her hand and put them on his boyfriend’s shoulders, her fingers softly trailing his shoulder muscles, God she was thankful for all the sports he did and as James continued his teasing, Lily dug her fingernails in his skin just a little bit, making sure he knows if she is going down, he is coming with her and the small grin he gave as he reached for the door handle confirmed Lily’s expectations.

When he slowly let her down to the bed, Lily wiggled out of jeans as James took his t-shirt off, there he was in all his glory the bloody idiot that stole her heart and Lily Evans smiled to herself, enjoying the view before he caught her by the legs and pulled her towards him.

“A little too excited aren’t we?” he asked with that stupid smile on his face, his eyes shining with mischief.

“Shut it and just lose the pants Potter,” she ordered and James just raised an eyebrow before he landed a kiss on her inner thigh. 

“No, I think I will enjoy this a little more,” he said as his hands roamed around her legs. “Just for making me run around the house, you know?”

“James Potter, you– oh,” cried Lily before she could help herself and bit her lip before she let her boyfriend take full control, God knew he knew what he was doing.