eaten his food

So Talk

Fanfic tiiiiiime

Bughead ficlet


“I didn’t think you even liked girls,” Archie said finally, playing with his paper straw wrapper.

“I don’t.” Jughead answered, eyes meeting Archie across the lip of his mug.

“You don’t?” Archie asked, a tiny bit of hopefulness creeping into his voice.

“I just like Betty.“

Pop’s Diner. Ten pm. Jughead did not even look up from the screen when Archie slid into the booth across from him. His fingers continued to move across the keyboard steadily. The only break he took was to drain the dregs of his coffee cup and then continue working.

“So,” Archie said finally. “You and Betty.”

Jughead allowed his eyes to flicker across at the redhead before turning back to the screen.

“So that’s weird.” Archie finished, huffing a little in amusement.

Jughead stopped typing.

“Not like… bad weird. Wow, okay, so that sounded rude. That’s not what I meant it’s just- you know, you? And Betty? She’s, you know…. and you’re so… yeah.” Archie trailed off. Rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. Sighed.

Jughead began typing again.

After a moment, Archie got up. Jughead did not watch him go, but when Archie returned with a soda and a refill of coffee he accepted the cup with a nod of thanks.

“I didn’t think you even liked girls,” Archie said finally, playing with his paper straw wrapper.

“I don’t.” Jughead answered, eyes meeting Archie across the lip of his mug.

“You don’t?” Archie asked, a tiny bit of hopefulness creeping into his voice.

“I just like Betty.”

Jughead put the cup down and closed the lid of his laptop. The two boys, best friends, maybe rivals, looked at each other for a moment then. Archie broke first. Jughead knew he would.

“It was always me and you and me and her. So this feels…”

“Unacceptable?” Jughead asked dryly.

“Unexpected.” Archie corrected. “Should it be? Unexpected, I mean.”

“For you, sure.”

“But not for you two?”

“I can’t speak for her.”

“So speak for you.”

Pops came by then and dropped two plates- deluxe burgers, cheese fries. Jughead’s stiff posture softened slightly at the sight of the food- a peace offering. He picked up a fry. Archie let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Your whole life, Archie, you’ve had this story. You and Betty, girl next door. Perfect. Sweet and thoughtful and gorgeous. You know everything about her- you know where she got that scar above her left elbow. You know what she looks like with chicken pox. You’ve seen her naked- though not since you were like six. Probably one day you’re gonna marry her.”

Archie jerked in his seat a little- hands holding the burger stilled even as the onion and tomato slipped from the bun and onto the plate. He seemed almost hypnotized.

“But today is not that day.” Jughead pauses to stir his coffee and Archie knows in the back of his mind that this is for dramatic effect but he can’t help being swept along.

Jughead’s a hell of a writer.

“You’re in high school. Who wants to live their whole life with the girl next door? You want adventure. You want to meet and woo and love enough women so that when you and Betty come together? You’re ready to make it stick. No one wants to break up with a girl like Betty.”

Archie started to speak but Jughead jabbed his fry in the air, cutting him off.

“Here’s the problem, Arch.” Jughead smiled a little, sardonically.

“I know she got that scar jumping into the lake on a dare and cutting her arm on a piece of metal because she did it so I wouldn’t have to. I was scared of the water and Reggie was being a dick. I remember how red and swollen and chipmunk faced she got in second grade- because I gave her the chicken pox. We could only hang out with each other for a week because everyone else was afraid of getting infected. Which is also when we shared an oatmeal bath.” Jughead raises an eyebrow and the joke is so foreign- girls, and baths, and Jughead- that it doesn’t even register that Archie should smile or react in some way.

“And you’d marry her.” Archie said. His voice was flatter than he’d intended.

“Probably.” Jughead conceded, picking up his burger now that his fries were gone.

“Have you always-?” Archie asked, pushing his half eaten food aside.

“Mm.” Jughead murmured thoughtfully around a mouthful. “More or less. But I figured- Archie and Betty. Endgame? No chance.”

Archie shook his head, but more out of confusion than denial.

“I kissed her,” Jughead said abruptly.

Archie gave a shaky laugh. “Okay, that was rude, but I seriously can’t picture you kissing anybody.”

Jughead grinned despite himself. “It’s all very 80’s teen comedy. Social outcast after the golden girl cheerleader.”

“Betty isn’t like that. She doesn’t think like that.” Archie said, no longer laughing.

“Then maybe- just me. Just she won’t want me. Maybe me knowing her enough to fall for her was enough for her to see what’s wrong with me and that she should just stay away. I’m not really a part of this-” Jughead gestured faintly around.

“Jughead-” Archie began.

“No, I know. I already know what you’re going to say. You said it with the burger.” Jughead smiled a bit and pushed away his empty plate.

“So what now?” Archie asked, pushing the rest of his plate towards his friend. Jughead picked up the other half.

“Whatever she wants,” he said, adding ketchup to the burger.

“You’d be, what, her boyfriend? Walk her to her locker? School dances?” Archie looked skeptical but Jughead gave him a look and even around the food it said for Betty? For Betty, participate in this pointless social posturing?

But he’d been sitting at their lunch table.

He’d been writing for the newspaper.

He’d been coming to class regularly, and on time.

He was changing.

Everything was.

“And what if she wants to be friends?” Archie asked. And this time his voice held concern- warm concern- for the someone who hadn’t had his heart broken. And his eyes when they looked over Jughead seemed to say I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to feel how I made her feel.

“Whatever she wants,” Jughead said, but his voice dropped a little.

And they both understood without saying it.

Best friends do.


Oh look another fandom to write for cause I wasn’t stuck on five ongoings or whatever,

blind from this sweet, sweet craving by missandrogyny (31k)

“So, I guess we’ll go?” Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind. We could make it an adventure.”

Harry observes him, watches him seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He’s fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry’s gaze–he probably knows that Harry’s mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he’s not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.

But he’s also Harry’s best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he’d still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He’s got Harry’s back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they’ll be able to get out of this situation, together.

Harry sighs. “We’re going,” he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.

Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

baby we could be enough (i’ll make this feel like home) by anyadisee (52k)

“Did you clean the table?” Harry asks Louis once Rose is done speaking, now occupied with trying to see if she can reach over and touch Harry’s hair from where she’s sat. At Louis’ nod, Harry frowns. “You didn’t have to do that. You’re my guests here, I could’ve dealt with it later.”

Louis just smiles easily, though, adjusting Rose on his lap so that she’s facing Harry better. She manages to tug on a loose wave of hair, and she makes a noise of triumph that both Louis and Harry smile at.

“I don’t mind,” Louis murmurs to Harry, even though he’s looking at Rose. “This one here seemed very excited to talk to you.”

And, okay. Harry can’t help but think of how domestic this feels, all of a sudden.

[harry is a photographer who’s trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]

Keep reading

apanoplyofsong  asked:

OKAY I think I finally came up with an actual prompt?? Something to the effect of "we adopted a pet together and now my mom/whoever definitely thinks we're dating whoops"

10/10 any prompt with pets in it is an excellent prompt. hope you like it and thanks for being such a great friend! (ao3)

The thing about Bellamy Blake, as Clarke well knows, is that he’s incapable of not caring for things smaller and more defenseless than he is. Not when he could help instead. She knew this when he moved in with her. She knew it from the first time he gave drunk Raven a piggyback the whole way home.

What she didn’t know was how it would affect her life once he becomes her roommate.

It starts innocently enough, with Bellamy hanging a bird feeder on the balcony after he finds a nest built into a crevice there.

“How much research did you do last night?” Clarke asks, amusedly interrupting his verbal pros-and-cons rundown of different models at Home Depot. She’d come along in part because she thinks it’s funny, how worried he is about these birds who can ostensibly take care of themselves.

(She’d also come along because it’s really cute, but that’s neither here nor there.)

“I may have looked at a few comparison charts online,” he admits, smiling sheepishly. “I don’t want to spend good money on something that isn’t going to work the way I want it to.”

“I didn’t know there was a wrong way a bird feeder could work.”

“Hence the research.”

She shakes her head fondly and taps the smallest option. “Just get this one. We’re looking to feed one family, not the whole forest.”

He stares for another moment, then nods and starts putting the rest of the boxes back on the shelf.

“How come you’re never this decisive when we’re picking a restaurant for dinner?”

“My muse is fickle, Bellamy.”


Keep reading

Love Me

If there’s one thing you don’t like about Yuta, it’s that he’s a fucking idiot.

Anon said: Can i request yuta imagines where he’s super clingy to you and wanted to kiss you non stop like there’s no tomorrow and being the savage he is? Thankyou ^^

Anon said: um today I would like something for my mountain MaN yuTA ⛰⛰⛰ where he sees reader and johnny be super close and is 😒😒😐😑 bc he’s like 500% sure reader likes him all the signs are there and yet. 🤔🤔🤔 jealous mountain man who ends up getting the love pls i know you like to mess with yuta but this time. THIS TIME. let him have a fair ending 😣🙏

hopefully this suffices for. you yuta lovers. lowkey thought the second request was no bias anon but jk it was carmen. anyways enjoy ^^

Keep reading

Nyx Headcanons:

- He’s afraid of the dark, so he sleeps with the TV on

- Nyx loves cartoons. Not ironically, he genuinely enjoys them

- Neither a cat nor a dog person. Nyx just loves animals

- He doesn’t have a driver’s license, but he drives so well nobody bothers him

- Thinks Gladio is the cutest thing. He almost cried when Gladio styled his hair like his

- “My influence….. my legacy…. ”

- Gives keys to his apartment to all of his friends and gets mad when he comes home and sees they’ve eaten all his food

- A hopeless romantic

- Bad at flirting with people he genuinely likes, but good any other time

- Strongly attracted to women who can beat him up

- Wears the same pants every day

- Only knows how to cook 3 things (and not even well, according to Libertus)

but also, sasuke in naruto’s space in general makes my heart jump. Naruto coming home and not expecting anyone to be there but sasuke is snoring on his couch with half eaten food on his chest. The bathroom is organized so everything is on the left, the way sasuke likes it. Tomatoes in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator. There’s a plant in the window that was never there before. The photo of sasuke that naruto used to use as target practice when they were kids is hung back up, on sasuke’s side of the bed. Two identical photos of team seven on the dresser by sasuke’s hitai-ate. Naruto trips over sasukes sandals every time he walks in the door; “is it really that hard to put them away, sasuke? The rack is right there, I can not even believe that I am the neat one in this arrangement, what the fuck.” 

EXO’s Reaction to You Eating Their Food


Xiumin would be…put out, to say the least. Not particularly confrontational, he wouldn’t address you about it, but you could tell he was irritated over something. When you asked him why he was moody, he would calmly explain that you should ask before you take somebody else’s food.


Before Chen went to the fridge to get out his missing food, you stopped him and apologized, confessing you couldn’t control yourself and ate his food. “Wow, that’s really mature of you,” he’d say in an annoyed tone, before grabbing something else to eat.


Baekhyun would take a more light-hearted approach to confronting you about his missing leftovers. When you admitted to eating them, he’d whine dramatically, throwing himself on the floor in despair. “Jagiiiiii, I was going to eat thoooooose!”


Chanyeol would act indifferent when you apologized for eating his food, but you could tell he was a bit disappointed. His lack of anger or real emotion made you feel worse, and you bought him his favorite snack to make up for it.


Though Lay would be a bit sad that he wasn’t able to eat it, he’d immediately ask if you had liked it. When you sheepishly said yes, he’d smile brightly. “Well, I’m glad one of us enjoyed it then,” he’d say, his words sincere.


You didn’t tell D.O you had eaten his food, waiting for him to find out himself and come to you–which he did. He’d quietly ask if you had eaten it, knowing it was his, and when you said yes he’d just sigh and shake his head. He’d quickly forgive you for the incident, but he wouldn’t forget it.


The last thing Suho would want to do is make you feel bad, but he wasn’t good at hiding his emotions. You could tell he was put out when you told him, as he had been looking forward to eating his food all day. You made sure to take him out to dinner to apologize, and his sweet smile was back before you knew it.


Kai is rather “into” his food, so though he wouldn’t get angry over the situation, he definitely wasn’t impressed with your actions. “Why..why would you eat my food if you know it’s mine?” he asked, confused as to why you couldn’t of eaten something else. That night you made sure to make it up to him, and the incident was forgotten.


Sehun wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, accepting your apology and moving on. Always passive aggressive, he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to “accidentally” eat your food or finish your drinks for the next few days.

Enouement- 10

Summary: Told in reverse-chronological order, Enouement is the story of love and loss, telling the journey that led you to your ultimate destination: a life full of happiness and regret, mistakes and laughter- and the man who gave you it all. Bucky x Reader

Words: 889

Warnings: Mentions of death of a child. A very sad Bucky.

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Now that Macbeth is over, I’m going to be able to *hopefully* update a lot more often. Woohoo!

Master  Part 9

Originally posted by 107th-infantry

A sharp knock on the door roused Bucky from his half-asleep state at the kitchen table. Blinking, his brows tugged together and he realized that he had been staring into his coffee cup, drifting between consciousness. The coffee had gone cold, and he sat it beside the kitchen sink as he crossed to the front door and answered.

He was mildly surprised to see both Steve and Natasha standing on the other side, wearing matching sympathetic smiles. Steve was holding a take-out bag, while Natasha cradled a drink carrier ladened with coffees in her arms.

“Sorry we didn’t call first,” Steve said, passing through the threshold after Natasha. “We didn’t think you guys would mind.”

Keep reading


A/N: This is the prize fic for @nekonomajo, the first place winner of my fic giveaway!

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


“Draco… Hey, Draco…”

Pansy was waving her hand in front of Draco’s face and his head snapped back to look at her, tearing his eyes away from a certain Gryffindor that had just walked into the Great Hall.

“Oh! What do you want Pansy?”

Pansy raised a brow at him, “You were saying something? Before Potter came in.”

Draco gave Pansy an incredulous look, “No! I was done talking. It had nothing to do with Potter!”

Pansy, who looked wholly unconvinced, gave a slow nod and then turned to have a whispered conversation with Millicent. Draco, ignoring the giggles issuing from Pansy, found his eyes wandering back to see what Potter was up to.

It didn’t take long for him to get lost in thought, frowning down at his half eaten food. He shook his head with a grumble and went back to actually eating his breakfast. What was it about Potter lately that had captured his attention so completely? They had always seemed to be aware of each other, but lately Draco had been noticing Potter more and more, and thought that Potter was doing the same. In fact, the other day when Draco had passed Potter in the corridor, he had turned back to see Potter make eye contact with him, before promptly slamming into a wall. This had elicited quite a laugh from Draco’s friends and he had joined for appearances, but now that he thought about it, he had only relaxed after seeing Potter tell his friends that he was okay.

His frown grew even deeper at that thought.


Draco snapped his head up to look at Pansy again. Pansy huffed and gestured to the now empty Great Hall, “Merlin Draco! What is up with you lately? You’re lucky I like you so much, as now we’re both late! Stop spacing out so much!”

First class of the day was Transfiguration with, of course, the Gryffindors. By the time Draco got to class, the only available seat was behind Potter, of all people. Potter stiffened when Draco sat down, keeping his head straight, but Draco kept staring at the back of his head, really not absorbing anything Professor McGonagall was saying.

Draco frowned at the back of Potter’s head, now feeling a bit put out that he hadn’t even turned a little to glare at Draco out of the corner of his eye.

So he did what any mature young adult would do.

He kicked the back of Potter’s seat.

When Potter merely jumped a bit and tightened his grip on his quill, Draco did it again.

And again.

And again.


Harry stood so quickly and whipped around, Draco barely had time to stop mid-kick and put his foot back under his desk before it got stomped on or something.

“Would you bloody cut it out!?” Potter all but growled at him

Draco schooled his features into his proper Malfoy smirk, “Stop what Potter, I was just listening to the Professor.”

Potter’s eyes narrowed, “Kicking my chair you bloody Ferret.”

Draco hadn’t been expecting that old insult and his eyes narrowed as well and he stood, looking down at Potter with his superior height, “Care to prove it, Scarhead?” He snarled.

There was the sound of a throat being cleared from behind Potter, and they both looked over at a livid Professor McGonagall, “If you boys are quite done disrupting my class,” she gave them both a look that said this was not a question, “You will both sit down and pay attention,” slowly they both sat down, “Ten points from both of you and detention tonight after dinner. You will meet me in here after you eat,” they both gave a nod and McGonagall gave them both a piercing stare before returning to her lesson.


Harry grumbled as he walked through the corridors with Hermione and Ron later that day. He had been trying so hard not to notice Malfoy’s presence behind him while in Defense class, even with the feeling of eyes on the back of his head. He was still a bit sore about walking into a wall because of Malfoy.

He paused. No, not because of Malfoy, right? There was a much better explanation than being distracted by Malfoy. He frowned in thought, not registering Ron and Hermione’s simultaneous “Look out Harry!” before he promptly walked into another wall.

Because he was thinking of Malfoy.

Damn him.

He got up, mumbling that he was fine before walking with them to the Great Hall for lunch. As usual his eyes immediately scanned the room for Malfoy as he sat down. It didn’t take but a moment for Harry’s eyes to find that gleaming blonde hair. As he started to eat, he watched Malfoy doing the same, eyes scanning over the elegant way he picked up his fork, his proper posture, his pale skin, pointed features, and his bright silvery grey eyes. He froze when he looked into those eyes from across the hall, coming back into reality when he realized what it meant that he was looking at Malfoy’s eyes.

He was staring at Malfoy.

And Malfoy was staring at him.


Harry jolted and nearly dropped his pumpkin juice that he was about to take a drink from, his eyes tearing away from those bright grey ones to look at Hemione.

“What are you doing?” She scolded, “Didn’t you see? Romilda Vane just dropped something in your pumpkin juice!”

Harry dropped his drink automatically, which then splashed all over his pants. His cheeks stained a faint red color and he looked over at the disappointed look on Romilda’s face and then to the slightly amused look on Draco’s before standing and storming out of the Great Hall to change before his next class.

He wound up being a little bit late to his next class, but he didn’t care because it was History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs, and Professor Binns didn’t even look up from his lecture when he walked in. What he did care about though, was the new pile of folded up notes on his desk, that, instead of getting rid of, Ron was snickering about in the seat next to him. Harry sighed and sat down, opening the first one.


He closed it with a grumble and started to open a few more.



'I L–’

Glaring now, Harry promptly incinerated all of the letters on his desk, looking around pointedly at any disappointed face in the room and elbowing Ron in the ribs for laughing before they were both smacked over the back of the head by Hermione for disrupting the class.

The rest of Harry’s classes went much in the same way, he’d come to class to a pile of letters on his desk, open a few of them to make sure that they weren’t love letters, and then incinerate them when he confirmed that they were.

When he finally sat down at the Gryffindor table for dinner, he was in a very bad mood, and Ron snickering next to him and Hermione giving him sympathetic looks every couple of minutes was not helping at all.

“Hey Harry!”

Harry slammed his head against the table as he was once again swarmed by a bunch of girls from all the houses, questioning him why he didn’t read their letter, trying to give him their letters in person, trying to offer him sweets (probably laced with love potion) and a couple of them were even fighting over his pumpkin juice.

Harry glared at all the girls and then his pumpkin juice exploded on the girls that were fighting over it just as he yelled out, “For Merlin’s sake! I’m bloody gay alright? Leave me alone!”


“I’m bloody gay!”

Draco’s eyebrows shot way into his hairline as he heard Gryffindor’s golden boy yell out those words. In the silence that followed, he felt a warm glow of hope filling his chest.

He gagged as his rational mind caught up with whatever crazy hex he was obviously just hit with. Hope? Why in the bloody hell would he feel HOPE over what Potter had just yelled. Hope for new teasing material, maybe? That didn’t feel right.

Draco shot a glare in Potter’s direction. Stupid bloody Gryffindor making him think odd things that no proper Malfoy would consider. He was a Pureblood heir, promised to a daughter of another Pureblood family from birth. And he most certainly definitely without a doubt was absolutely not gay for Harry Potter. Or anyone. But especially not Harry Potter.

Draco watched Potter get up and storm out of the Great Hall with the eyes of all the disappointed or horror-struck girls following him out. With a stab of envy, he noticed a few hopeful eyes of a couple boys as well. No, not envy. Some other strong emotion beyond annoyance. He frowned again and stood, figuring he had better make his way to Detention, lest he encounter an even more furious McGonagal.

He trudged to McGonagal’s office, fighting to turn his frown into his Malfoy Mask, while still confused about the way he felt after Potter’s outburst but not wanting the git to see it on his face. He was finally able to school his features back to his mask just as he opened the door to his detention with Potter.


The tension in the air was palpable, as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy sat grading essays for McGonagal’s other classes. She had forced them to sit next to each other, claiming that they needed to work out their differences and learn to act like proper gentlemen. They were now sitting silently, trying to concentrate on marking Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw papers and not on each other.

For a moment, Draco looked over at Harry who was sucking on the tip of his quill as he compared the essay to McGonagal’s notes. Draco’s mask broke for a moment as his cheeks turned a light pink, then he shook himself out of it and his mask returned.

Noticing the movement out of the corner of his eye, Harry glanced Draco’s way only to see the blonde tapping his long elegant fingers rhythmically against the top of the desk. The only betrayal of concentration on his Malfoy Mask being his eyebrows knitted together a bit closer than usual. The tips of Harry’s ears went a light red when he realized that he had been looking close enough to notice the difference in Draco’s face.

Before Harry could look back at his paper, Draco’s head turned and their eyes met.

Both of them jolted and blushed a deeper shade of red, frozen staring at each other. “Um…” Harry started, while at the same time Draco said, “I…”

Speaking at the same time startled both of them out of their stupor and they both quickly looked back down at their papers. Neither of them looked back up until they were finished, besides peeking out of the corner of their eyes at each other every couple of minutes.

Neither of them missed a beat when McGonagal released them for the night, and rushed back to their respective common rooms.


'He was staring at me! Why was he staring at me? Why was I staring at him?!’ Was Harry’s repeated thoughts as he sped up to Gryffindor tower. He mumbled the password to the Fat Lady and rushed through the common room to his bedroom, ignoring Ron and Hermione calling his name. Honestly he hardly even heard them, too caught up with his thoughts.

He flopped into bed, laying for only a moment before he bolted upright and attacked his pillow, punching it and trying to picture hitting Malfoy’s face.

“Why. Can’t. I. Picture. You?” He demanded of his pillow, punching between words. Suddenly he was able to picture Malfoy’s face in his pillow and his hand froze mid-punch, he stared at his pillow for a moment before grabbing it and launching it off the bed with a frustrated shout. He flopped face first and limp-limbed back down on his bed, groaning with frustration into his mattress.

“Harry…?” Ron said meekly, standing in the doorway, “Mate?”

Harry didn’t move, just mumbled something incoherent that sounded a bit like “What” against his mattress.

“Is there a reason for beating up your pillow and then throwing it at me?” Ron asked, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline.

Turning his head just enough to uncover his mouth and look at Ron with one eye, Harry responded, “It wasn’t comfortable enough for me.”

Ron just nodded slowly and tossed Harry’s pillow closer to his bed so he could retrieve it later, retreating from his crazy friend to his own bed and closing the curtains. Once Ron was in bed, Harry grabbed his pillow and lay down on it with his own hangings closed, but it was a long while before he was able to sleep.


The next afternoon, Draco was sitting in potions with the Gryffindors, blessedly on the other side of the classroom from Potter. He told himself that it was because he never wanted to be that close to the brunette ever again, but still his eyes continued to wander over to Potter.

He was doing it again.

Sucking on the tip of his quill while looking at the instructions for the potion they were supposed to be making.

Draco jolted when he realized he was about to toss his shrivelfig into his cauldron without skinning it first. He forced himself to concentrate with a violent shake of his head, skinning the shrivelfig and putting it into his caldron. As he started stirring, his mind started to wander again, as did his eyes.

Potter was now slicing his caterpillar with a frown of concentration and his brows knit together. The blade was shaking as he tried to make sure every slice was the same size. Draco had to smirk as he watched, Potter was so cute when he attempted potions.

At that thought, Draco blinked and dropped his caterpillar, whole, into his cauldron.

Which then exploded.

By the time he had picked himself off the ground, Snape was standing next to him, looking livid. Godfather or not, Professor Severus Snape did not tolerate exploding cauldrons in his class.

“Mister Malfoy,” Snape said, looking down at him, “You will stay after class and clean up this mess you made,” he looked at the rest of the students, “Everyone else, class is over. Out.”

No one questioned this and hurried out of the room. Draco breathed a sigh of relief, at least Snape still stuck to his rule of not deducting points from Slytherin. He brushed himself off and began to clean up as Snape disappeared into his office to prepare for the next class.

It wasn’t long, thanks to a few cleaning spells he learned, before he had the area cleaned. He picked up his bag, semi-noticing another bag that one of the Gryffindor’s had left in their haste to leave. Probably Longbottom, Draco snickered to himself as he opened the door to leave.

Smacking right into someone solid and falling down to the floor, that dark haired someone falling on top of him. Draco opened his mouth to curse the person, then realized he was looking through a pair of round glasses at bright green eyes.



“What are you–?”

“My bag–”

Both of them had spoken at the same time, Potter answering Draco’s simultaneous question with a finger pointed at the discarded bag on the Gryffindor side.

“Aren’t you… going to move?”

The question turned Draco’s head back to Potter, who was giving him the same stunned and confused look that he thought he probably had on his face.

“Not with you on me, Potter…” The word that was usually a curse on his tongue came out a lot softer than he had meant it to. “You move.”

Even as he said this, Draco was feeling drawn to move closer, rather than move away. Which is what his rational mind would be screaming at him to do if it were currently functioning.

Potter moved, but instead of moving away, he started to move closer, and Draco followed his actions. Their lips were now millimeters apart, Draco could feel the warmth of Potter’s skin, it was so close to his.

The door to Snape’s office slammed open and Potter flew off of him so quickly, Draco barely had time to blink before he was standing.

“Mister Malfoy, what are you sti– Potter. What are you doing here and why is Mister Malfoy on the ground?” Snape’s eyed Potter and Draco saw his 'I’m going to take points off of Gryffindor’ face.

“We just bumped into each other, Professor.”

Both Snape and Potter gave Draco an odd look when he said this, before Snape looked back at Potter suspiciously, “Is this true, Mister Potter?”

Potter nodded and snatched up his bag, “I just came back in for this, Professor, I didn’t see Malfoy as he was leaving.”

Snape just gave a slow nod and then shooed them both out of his classroom so he could let in his next class, telling them to hurry up and get to their own classes.


A week had now passed and Harry barely felt the time, he was so busy replaying the events in the Potions classroom in his thoughts.

What had happened?

It was like, when he fell on top of Malfoy and saw the surprise and actual emotions in the silvery eyes, his mind had just shut down. He had been running on… Was it instinct that had him leaning closer to Malfoy, or something else?

Would they have… Kissed?

Rather than feeling nauseated, like he thought he should at that thought, he felt his heart give a little leap.

Definitely not instinct then.

It was his heart. His heart had wanted him to kiss Malfoy.

And Malfoy was leaning closer to him too.

It took Harry days of trying to rationalize Malfoy’s reaction before he determined that yes, he had been leaning forward. On his own, even.


So if Snape hadn’t come in, they would have kissed.


They definitely would have kissed. Was he okay with that? Probably. Should he be? Probably not.


Harry looked up just in time to see the rapidly approaching wall. He tensed up in preparation for the inevitable impact.

That never came.

Harry suddenly found himself being yanked into the classroom next to him, saving him from impact.

“What is up with you and that wall, Potter?”

With that unmistakeable drawl, Harry was now aware of who his rescuer was. He turned, and promptly lost the ability to speak. Malfoy himself was looking rather agitated and a little bit ruffled as he cast a locking spell at the door. Harry wasn’t sure if he should run or not, because of the look on Malfoy’s face.

“Malfoy…?” Harry tried.

Malfoy looked sharply up at him, “Why are you everywhere?”

Harry blinked dumbly, “Wha?”

“Every time I look up, I see your stupid hair or your stupid glasses. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for weeks!”

Harry felt his cheeks heat up as he realized what Malfoy was saying to him, “Me too…”

He peeked up at Malfoy to see him looking stunned again.

“I mean… You know… Thinking about you…” Harry mentally kicked himself at how bad that sounded.

Malfoy dragged his fingers through his hair, then absently fixed it back into perfect order. For the first time Harry had ever seen, Malfoy looked very very lost.

Harry gave a soft laugh as Malfoy turned away, sounding almost hysterical. He had no idea how to handle this situation or even if he was reading into it correctly. Suddenly he couldn’t stop his bout of word vomit, “I mean, what could you be saying anyways? We can’t possibly have fallen for each other? You can’t have fallen in love with me.”

Harry knew that his voice sounded confrontational, but his face portrayed hope. A, faint, hope that Malfoy would see past his self-protection and contradict him.

Malfoy whipped back around and grabbed his shoulders, his Malfoy Mask now completely dropped. “That’s just it isn’t it! I can’t have fallen in love with you!” Harry’s heart plummeted but Malfoy wasn’t done, “Damnit Potter! I can’t have just fallen in love with you because I never fell out of love with you! Since the day we met!”

Then Harry felt Malfoy’s lips crash against his. It was electric and fire and all tongues and teeth as they wrestled for dominance, neither conceding until they finally broke apart. Harry was panting, looking up at Malfoy and his disheveled uniform.

“Now what, Malfoy?”

Malfoy smirked, “Maybe start by calling each other by our first names.”

“Oh, you have a first name?”






I’m really sorry for the delay in finishing this, but I really hope you liked it. Just a side note, this is officially the longest thing I have ever written.

Also sorry for the massive wall of text, I’m posting on mobile.

Major props to my sister @firesofbagginshield (obviously a Hobbit blog, follow her if you like Bagginshield) for helping me edit this.

Come Back To You Part 3

Part One Part Two

Warnings: two swear words?

Daryl’s arms had long since lost the feeling of the heavy weight of the crossbow that sat patiently in his grip. He’d been tracking the deer for a while now. It was barely light, but he couldn’t sleep, and had stumbled upon the fresh tracks of what appeared to be a nice sized doe. And a catch like that was rare if not unheard of in the current state of the world. 

He’d woken up well before the sun, crushing his pillow in a tight embrace before realizing that it was’t you in his grasp. He was letting himself slip again; days went by when he couldn’t remember what color your eyes were. The other days were worse. He’d wake up expecting you to be there; hunt, thinking you were by his side. Call out your name into the emptiness; try to hold your hand and only grasp at air.
Today was one of those days.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts of his long dead fiancee. Recently the doubt of your survival that surrounded his mind had won over the impulsive side that always swore you were there, just over that hill and he’d find you. Truth is, he’d stopped looking for you.
Times like these, however, were when he really started slipping.
He breathed out, looking down his crossbow at the doe that stood eating in the clearing. He just had to clear a few trees and his shot would be perfectly lined up with the doe’s beautifully brown eyes.
Your eyes.
He quickly shook his head, before carefully making his way closer. It was then that he saw the stag, standing protectively by his mate as she ate the grass beneath them.
A small smile lit up his face, before he turned around to tell you to look at em’! Just a happy family but you weren’t there.
He threw down his crossbow, scaring the deer off. They leapt away as he cursed, slamming the palm of is hand into a nearby tree. His left hand soon followed, trying in vain to cause anything to feel the same pain he was feeling then. He wasn’t crying, no, he’d never done that over you. You were strong, and he knew you wouldn’t want him to cry over you. He was saving those tears until he knew without a doubt that you were dead.
He slid down the trunk of that tree, his back catching painfully on the knotted bark. He placed his head in his hands, mumbling to himself about getting a grip.
He tuned his head skyward, running a hand through his dirty hair. It was long, now, after not having it cut in a while. You preferred it short, he knew that well. He thought if he’d be the opposite now as he was when you were with him, then maybe… Maybe he’d forget.
So he tried to. In that moment, he shook his head, retrieved his crossbow, and stood up, straightening his shoulders.
Rick had lost his wife, too. So he could be a strong as Rick, right?
The prison was empty. It had people in it, yes, and it was not quiet with the walkers constantly trying to get in, but it was empty.
Rick was up, his eyes red and his posture hunched over the metal table as he unenthusiastically pushed the scrambled egg on his plate to the side with his fork. Daryl sat down opposite him, roughly slamming his plate down and setting his crossbow down beside it. Rick raised his eyes to glance up at Daryl as he sat down, but didn’t make a sound.
The two sat silently, the air begging for a conversation but not receiving one as the two men ate their breakfast. Daryl was done first, having actually eaten his food instead of playing with it. As he was standing to leave, Rick broke the silence.
“Daryl,” he began slowly, “how do you manage?”
Daryl sat back down hesitantly, confused.
“Manage what?” He asked.
Rick looked up at him, then, his eyes glazed over as if he would cry if he hadn’t already done so already so much that he could no longer.
“How do you manage to live when you’re lost your world?” Rick asked, his eyes diverting back to the suddenly interesting eggs on his plate.
“Same way everybody does. We all lost everythin’ when the world went to shit.”
“No. No! How do you cope when the person you love most is dead?”
Daryl took in a shaky breath.
“I follow by example. Losin’ my fiancee was th’ same as you losin’ Lori.”
Rick shook his head, shakily running his hands though his hair.
“What was her name?” Rick looked at Daryl, who then couldn’t maintain eye contact. He opened his mouth, to say her name, before closing it again.
“Beautiful name,” Rick said, his eyes dropping back to his plate.
“Beautiful girl.” Daryl shot back, his voice nearly cracking.
After a moment, Rick whispered,
“Do you see her, sometimes?”
Daryl thought about it.
“No. Not when I’m awake. I think she’s there, though. Sometimes I find myself calling’ to ‘er, holding’ ‘er.”
Rick nodded.
Daryl stood up, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder.
“You haven’t lost everything, Rick. Neither have I. We still got family.” Daryl gestured around him.
“You still got us.”
It had been a few day since his talk with Rick. Neither of them had spoken since, but a sort of tense understanding had fallen into the air around them.
Daryl was in the watch tower. he didn’t actually have watch duty, since Maggie was opposite him in another tower watching over the grounds. He just didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t sleep well that night, dreaming of you. Of how he’d left that day on a hunting trip with Merle. He should never have left your side. He should never have walked out that door. He should have stayed in your warm embrace, smiling agains your lips and pulling you into him.
He pushed a shaky hand through his hair. You had been on his mind a dangerous amount recently. Maybe it was because of Judith  being around much more. Maybe the thought of family had been surrounding Daryl’s cold heart so much and he’d only ever thought of starting a family with you.
But he had a job to do, and having a family or seeing his fiancee again wasn’t likely.
So he stood, crossbow in hand, staring into the sunrise and dreaming of holding your hand.
It was the middle of the morning when Daryl heard the soft growl of a car approaching. It was Rick’s car, bouncing along the gravel road. Daryl was quick to descend from the watch tower, eager to see what they’d brought back from their trip.
“Daryl!” Rick called, causing Daryl to feel unnaturally frustrated, for a reason unknown to him. When he heard Rick’s voice, he’d think of the conversation they’d had, and then he’d think of you again.
“Get Hershel!” Rick called again.
Daryl sent a haphazard look over at Rick and Glenn before deciding that they weren’t in need of immediate medical attention.
“Get him yourself!” He called back angrily.
“I ain’t your slave.”
“Daryl! We need Hershel now!” There was a new sense of urgency in Rick’s voice, as if he was desperately attempting to get the message through Daryl’s thick skull.
Daryl rounded the base of the watch tower, his eye catching on Glenn, who was unloading something from the back seats.
“Why?” Daryl began, “I don’t see why-“
He was cut off by another figure draped over Glenn’s shoulder.
He raised his crossbow defensively.
“Who the fuck is that?”
You raised your head, your eyes wide at the sound of his voice.
As soon as your eyes met his, any angry curse that was about to be yelled from his mouth died. His arms faltered, and his crossbow began to droop, before it crashed down into the dirt beside his shoes.
Your arm dropped from around Glenn’s shoulders. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.
He looked you over. Your hair was shorter than he remembered, cut sloppily and longer on one side that the other. You were covered in dirt and blood and sweat and you were leaning all your weight on one leg but it was you.
A whisper came from his mouth. It was sharp and short and soft but you heard it carried on the wind like a sweet lullaby.
Rick looked between you and Daryl, before grabbing Glenn’s arm and pulling him away.
Daryl started walking towards you. It wasn’t a desperate sprint, nor a sort of magical moment that you’d seen in romance movies. He sort of stalked towards you, not being able to walk entirely straight, at an all too slow pace. When he was a few feet in front of you, he stopped.
Neither of you said anything. You looked him up and down, and he did the same to you.
His hair was long, and his eyes screamed of exhaustion, and he was still wearing that goddamned angel winged vest. You smiled, reaching out to touch the worn leather. You remember getting that for him on his birthday, as a sort of joke that you half meant. He’d loved it, unexpectedly.
And then you were in his arms. Your injured calf couldn’t support your weight so he supported it for you, letting you collapse against him. He held you in a tight embrace, his head nuzzled into your neck and yours into his. He smelled like sweat and blood and dirt but something inherently him and oh god you missed it.
The two of you sunk down onto the dirt, you half on top of him and half dragging behind into a mess of limbs and leather.
You could feel him shaking beneath you. Your shoulder was wet; he was finally crying over you.
“You came back,” he whispered, rocking you back and forth.
“You came back,” he whispered again, pulling away to look into your eyes.
You smiled a soft, tired. pained smile.
With a shaky hand, you pulled a delicate chain from around your neck under your shirt into view. On it, the simple, silver ring he’d given you along with his life swung back and forth slowly.
“Yeah,” you whispered, “You’ve still got a promise to keep.“

Secret Admirer || Peter Parker x Reader

Can you imagine Peter Parker being totally in love with you after being friends with you for 3 years, and finally, Peter can’t stand being ‘just friends anymore’ so he decides to win you over with love notes and tiny gifts??

Yet you don’t know it’s coming from him since you always believed he had a crush on Liz? So Petey (being your bff) gets hella embarrassed every time you show him one of the notes and/or gifts he’s given you while giving you a baffling stare at how you still DIDNT KNOW that it’s him???

Let’s write about that. ((Lol lol lol GMM ref, I love Rhett and Link so much))

warnings: fLUFF

**I apologize for any grammatical errors since this was all written on my phone. When it’s posted then I’ll make sure to edit it a few more times just in case!**

**dont repost or plagiarize this plot! Reblogs are fine!!


The first note you received happened one morning when you opened your locker to retrieve your books.

Your final year at Midtown couldn’t go by fast enough for you. Despite all of the good memories you had at this place with your friends, you were ready to get out of this school.

All you had to do was finish strong.

Heading toward your locker, you see Peter standing against his locker and gesture at him to follow you, “Come on! Walk with me, it’s been a while since the last time we talked to each other.”

He appeared hesitant, constantly shifting his gaze away from you while he ran a hand through his hair, “What are you talking about [Nickname], I m-mean, we spoke to each other yesterday.”

With a roll of your eyes, you quickly wrap your arm around Peter’s, forcing him to follow you to your locker as you linked your arms together with his. “Come on, dude, you know that I’ll always need my daily spidey fix!”

“Ssh!!! Not so loud, [Name]!”

You laugh at Peter’s flustered expression when you mention his alter ego’s nickname, finding him to be incredibly adorable as he tried to hide the fact that he was Spider-Man.

Reaching your locker, you notice from the corner of your eyes how jittery Peter appeared. While you were working on unlocking your locker, Peter’s trembling seemed to get stronger when it opened as a tiny folded note fell to the ground.

“U-uhm I-I g-gotta go! I just r-remembered that N-Ned needed me for s-something, bye!”

You pick up the note to see your name written in an unfamiliar script on it. About to say something to Peter, you face him, only to be met with his retreating form as he ran off in the opposite direction.

“Okay, that was weird as fuck.” You shrug, returning your attention back to the note as you carefully unfolded it. Upon reading its contents, you felt your cheeks turn red:

I’ve always loved you.


Your thoughts were consumed with that singular note; your mind constantly replaying that simple declaration of love.

You wondered who the author was throughout Calculus, making you completely miss the question when you were called on.

You tried to decipher the handwriting during English Lit, only to be caught off guard when your teacher made you read an excerpt from the story you were discussing.

Even when lunch period came, you found that you didn’t have an appetite as you grabbed a bottle of water with an apple to serve as your lunch for the day.

Finding your usual table next to Peter and Ned, you sit between them, not noticing the way Peter had immediately stiffened.

“You guys, I think I have a secret admirer.” You tell both boys, still looking at the note.

“Really?” You heard Ned ask while taking bites of his turkey sandwich, “I didn’t think any guys would go for girls like you.” He laughs at the joke, making you playfully punch his arm in response.

“Shut up, I’m being serious! Here just take a look at this! The dude said that he’s always loved me!” You show Ned the note, not paying attention to Peter when he choked on his milk. “I mean, it sounds sincere, but there is also a chance that this could have been given to me as a joke.”

While Ned looks at the note, you finally heard Peter as he blurted out, “No one would ever say that they loved you as a joke, [Name]! I wouldn’t- I mean-!!”

You and Ned both give Peter a look of concern, “Peter, what? How would you know that?”

“I don’t kn-know that! Anyways, I gotta go and help L-Liz with something!” Peter stands from his seat, carrying his tray that carried his half eaten food as he threw the contents away before running out of the cafeteria.

Seeing Peter freaking out, Ned was practically smirking now, realizing just who had given you the note. “Here,” he slides the note back over to you, watching you with a curious expression when you sighed.

“Seriously, if this wasn’t a joke, then who wrote it?”

Ned simply shrugs while hiding his wide grin by taking bites of his sandwich.

The boy knew exactly who the author of the note was, but he was never gonna tell you for fear of ruining the fun.


The second note you received came as a delivery to your house as it was coupled along with a cute blue penguin plush.

The note (like the first one) contained a single sentence as you read:

I love you as much as you love penguins (maybe even more so).

What that note stated was an absolute fact. You absolutely adored penguins, and seeing this gift made you even more curious as to who was the identity of your admirer. Because you loved the little blue booger so much, you decided to take him to school with you the next day.

Not caring that so many people were giving you odd looks, you continue to hold the penguin close to your chest, making your way toward Peter. Seeing him with his back turned toward you, you hold up your penguin plush so that it covered your face.

When Peter finally turned around, he jumps at the sight of the penguin plush as you spoke in a cutesy tone, “Peter Parker, I wuv you!! Tell me I’m cute and handsome!!”

“[Name], hey. You scared me.” He gently moves the penguin away from your face, smiling at you as his cheeks were tinged in a slight pink hue, “What’s up? W-was that from your a-admirer?”

You nod and show him a wide grin, “It was from him! And I also got a really cute note, this time saying how my admirer loved me as much as I loved penguins.” You laugh and hold the penguin plush close to your chest, “I don’t really talk about my obsession with penguins, so whoever is giving me these notes must have been watching me for a while now.”

“You have no idea.” Peter mumbles, but you didn’t catch his words, “What was that, Pete?”

He clears his throat and asks, “I was just wondering if you were s-scared of this guy, whoever h-he is, I mean- The f-fact that he’s been paying so much attention to you must make you nervous.”

Your nose wrinkles in response to his question, “Well, I don’t think so. I think that if my admirer ever revealed himself to me, then I would still like him all the same.” You think about it for a few more minutes before admitting, “However, if he turned out to be Flash…” you hold up your stuffed penguin and purposely loom it over one of the trash cans, “Then this little booger is going in the trash.”

Peter couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face, “I’m sure that it wasn’t Flash who gave you those notes and that penguin.”

You laugh and nuzzle your penguin buddy, “Yeah, I think it isn’t Flash either. Whoever is sending me such sweet gifts has got to be hella kind with a big heart.” Staring at Peter, you wink at him and say, “You know, if you did sweet stuff like this for Liz, I’m sure she’d be yours in no time at all!”

When the bell rang, you cursed softly, “Shit, I’m late for my first class. Later Pete!”

You run off to class, leaving Peter alone. He stays still for several seconds before letting out a low chuckle, “God, will you ever know?

I’ve always wanted you from the start.”


The third note you received was delivered to you personally by your secret admirer.

It was the end of the school day, and you were deep in thought. It had been several weeks since you received the first note, and you still didn’t have a clue as to who your secret admirer was.

His handwriting was written in a slanted script, and you had never seen anyone with that handwriting before. This made things a lot more challenging for you, and you were beginning to think that your admirer would never appear.

Being so deep in thought, you end up wandering around the hallways, not stopping until you felt your nose run into someone’s back. Wincing to show your slight pain, you rub at your nose to see someone familiar standing before you, “Ah, hey Peter! D-Did you not go home yet? What are you doing here?”

Peter doesn’t answer you, just silently holds out a folded piece of paper for you to take. You tilt your head and slowly take the letter from him, wondering what Peter was doing with it. Recognizing the slanted script, you gasp and unfold the letter to read:

I’ve been in front of you this whole time. When will you finally begin to see?

“Peter- oh my god, it’s y-” you were suddenly cut off when you felt Peter press his lips against yours. You moan, leaning even closer to Peter when you felt him delve his fingers into your hair. His touch was soft, gentle, reverent even when he pulled away to look at you.

Your face was dyed red, making you look away from him when you murmur, “It was you this whole time?”

He laughs, wrapping an arm around you, “Your oblivious nature was seriously driving me insane. Even Ned knew. You were just so slow that I didn’t think you’d ever figure it out. So I…I had to do something. I like you so much, [Name].”

You laugh and wrap your arms around his back, “Oh God, I’m so stupid. You’re right, the signs were all there! How nervous you were, how you never looked me in the eye when I talked about the notes. Oh, and how- mmmph!”

Peter kisses you again, keeping his eyes shut as he hoped to stop your embarrassing rant about him. It took all of the courage he had to give you his last note, and he wanted nothing more than to finally have you in his arms.

He knew that his feelings were requited from the way you kissed him back, and he couldn’t have been happier when he thought,



Originally posted by eveenstar

Black and Blue

A/N: I’m writing my Leorai week in the form of an ongoing short story.  Be sure to read Black & Blue Chapters 1-3 first.  Also, this chapter references events that happened in my one shots, Solace, and Sanctuary.


 Black and blue, I’m begging you

Take me in, I’m surrendering

Black and blue, but if I’m with you

If I’m with you, I will live to fight on through

-Sia, Black & Blue


Chapter 4

 First Date

Sparks flew as his blade clashed the wall, halted just shy of my cheek as his eyes darted over me.  His lips parted, his eyes growing wide then small again.  He squint, then placed his sword beneath my throat as he stepped closer, inhaling deep.  “You smell of flowers.”  

He zeroed in on my hair, dropped his weapon to place one hand around my throat.  He didn’t squeeze and this meant a great deal to me.  For one I was still alive, he hadn’t killed me.  Two, he wasn’t strangling me.  At least not yet.  His brow furrowed as he reached with his free hand into my shoulder-length hair, grasping a small chunk from the underside.  He pulled it forth, rubbing it between his fingers.  “It’s blue.”

Though his grasp was loose around my throat there was a knot deep within it, great pressure building in my chest.  My eyes stung as a feeble smile worked my lips. “It is.”

Keep reading

Self Deprecating Humour Pt 1

I found this off of @haunt-the-stars’s tumblr post. Link here

I have plans, so these were all I had time to write for now. I think there’s two more left, so I’ll write them soon.

Happy reading!


It had been viewed as a miracle that Daniel Fenton had arrived at school early, and had handed in his assignments on time. All of Danny’s teachers had been surprised, and pleased. None more than Mr. Lancer himself.

While Danny looked a touch more exhausted than usual, Lancer just attributed it to the fact the teen had completed all of his homework, as well as doing whatever often occupied his time nowadays.

Lancer noted that Sam and Tucker looked a little worried, more so than usual, and since Lancer was on monitor duty in the cafeteria anyway, he decided he would keep half an eye on Danny.

“I can’t believe you got everything done,” Sam said, daintily eating her lunch as she watched Tucker devour his.

Keep reading

Fanfiction Aesthetics: Dramione

It was then that Hermione realized she’d been staring. She’d never spent an extensive amount of time studying Draco Malfoy in school, but now she could hardly keep her eyes off of him. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity that drew her in, watching the dark mark writhing on his arm, or maybe it was some sort of ill-placed hero worship from him saving her life. It didn’t really matter how her fascination started, just that it had, and now she found herself taking in all the small details as he sat across the table from her.

The most obvious one was his countenance. It had changed dramatically since the last time she’d seen him. Where he used to stand tall, proud and arrogant, he now hunched over, trying to make himself smaller as he stared blankly at the floor and worrying his lip to the point that she thought he might make them bleed. His fingernails, which she was sure had probably been pristine and perfectly manicured in the past, were now cracked and chewed to the quick, and there was a thin scar that ran just underneath his ear and along his jawline. 

There were also dark circles under his eyes that stood out against his pale skin, looking more like bruises as the sleepless nights wore on, and despite his clothes hiding his figure, she’d felt how thin he’d become when he’d held her back at the manor. She’d thought he’d looked ragged and worse for wear their sixth year, but this? This was so much worse. She’d never seen Malfoy this way and it truly unnerved her. 

He hadn’t seemed to notice her critical gaze as he pushed some vegetables around his plate. She’d seen him toy with his food in this manner the night before and he skipped breakfast all together that morning. She frowned as she suddenly realized the blonde had hardly touched any food in the two days they’d been there. She couldn’t help but wonder, “Why?”

He looked up from his plate, a puzzled expression on his face. “Why what?”

Snapping out of her thoughts, she felt herself blush as she realized he’d answered her. She hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud. “Um. I just wondered why you’re not eating.” She said after clearing her throat.

He frowned and let the fork fall onto his plate. “It isn’t like I’m doing it on purpose if that’s what you’re thinking.” He replied, eyeing her suspiciously. “It’s just been awhile since I’ve had much of an appetite.“

 “Is it because you defected?” She asked, curiousity getting the better of her. She could understand if he was concerned about his decision to switch sides. It made her anxious thinking about it, she couldn’t imagine how it made him feel. “Are you worried about jumping ship?”

”Oh, Granger. You really haven’t a clue have you?” He chuckled darkly. “It has nothing to do with my switch in alligences. It’s just that one seems to lose one’s appetite when most family dinners come with a show.” She stared at him in shock. Surely he didn’t mean- “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at a Shepard’s pie the same way again.”

She sat there speechless for a moment. She knew what he was insinuating and the very thought made her ill.  How many “shows” of violence had he had to sit through? And at his own table no less. It made her stomach churn and an overwhelming feeling of sympathy came over her. “I’m sorry, Malfoy.” She said softly, keeping eye contact with him as he cocked his head to the side. 

He stared back at her, seemingly scrutinizing her appearance in much of the same manner as she had his. Then those eyes narrowed a bit and he frowned, pushing his chair back from the table. “Save your pity for someone who needs it, Granger.” He scoffed, standing quickly and exiting the kitchen before she could respond. She stared at his barely eaten food and sighed. Well, it seemed that his need to have the last word hadn’t changed at least.

I’m so damn angry at the world right now, I can’t even articulate properly, but let me try:

A few hours ago, some girls from my class and I met up to discuss our group project. Since we met around dinner time (it is late evening now where I am and I just came back) and we all were pretty hungry after that meeting, we went to a little café near our school, where they also sell good dinner menus.

Once we got our tray with food, we went to look for a place to sit. Funnily enough, we walked right into a group of boys from our school – a few of them I didn’t know, a few others from our class. Their table was full, people squashed together and trays all but standing on top of each other, but they still insisted that we four girl sit with them. They said there were going to drink something in a bar after that, and we could sit with them until then, even accompany them later.

I don’t feel really comfortable with too much closeness and body contact when I don’t know the people at least a bit, feel almost claustrophobic in such a mass of bodies. Looking around, I noticed that the table right behind them was empty, apart from one boy. I know him from sight, he’s in our parallel class.

I pointed over and said “Eh, I will sit with him, there is plenty of space.”

Suddenly, the whole table turned silent, and the boys looked at each other, than at me. The other three girls looked uncomfortable.

I thought I had done something wrong, so I said, “It’s not like that I don’t want to sit with you guys, but we’re already out of space here, so…”

Another round of weird glances, and then one of the boys spoke up, “You don’t want to sit with him.”

Actually, that was exactly what I wanted and I had said so just now, but still I asked, “Why?”

Another pause, glances, shuffling, then the same boy again, “He’s gay.”

I waited, already feeling myself gnash my teeth and gripping my tray tighter, but I waited a long moment, before I asked, “And?”

One of the girls elbowed me in the rips and hissed, “Stop it!” but I smiled sweetly.

“And?” Now another one piped up, one of those guys who already had tried to bully me, once, “He’s gay!”

This time, the words were said so loud that I could see the boy at the other table wince out of the corner of my eyes.

And that’s when I turned around, walked over to him and said, gently, “Is this place still free?”

He all but stopped moving, looking up very slowly from his plate. I could see that he hadn’t eaten yet – just pushed his food around, smashing it together. Part of me wondered how long he already had had to listen to those idiots.

He looked at me, wide-eyed, and said very slowly, “You can’t… sit here.”

“Why?” I asked for the second time since entering that café.

“They will bully you, too.”

It took everything I had to keep smiling at him, even for a little bit, and not just turn around and fling my tray at those assholes behind me. “But you’re okay with me sitting here?”

He hesitated, but finally, nodded jerkily and smiled back, a little bit.

I sat with him until we had finished eating and said goodbye to go home. The boys and the girls left the café pretty soon after I had sat down, without checking if I wanted to accompany them.

Don’t get me wrong, guys. I’m not brave. I’m pretty easily scared, to be honest. And if those guys should decide to turn up their bullying a notch, I will probably, too, be tired and sad and break and cry a few times (only when they can’t see it of course).

But I just can’t keep silent in moments like this. And everything they can do to me to hurt me is so damn worth it, if I just can assure that boy – his name is Christoph, by the way – that I’m okay with him being gay. That I won’t just sit at another table or laugh at him or something shitty like that.

If I can just show him that he is okay just the way he is, than that’s worth everything they can throw at me.

Fucking bring it.

(And when the hell did the word gay even become an insult? It is not, damn it.)


(I take it all back, I know now why I get bullied so easily. It’s basically my own fault, but I have found that I do not care.)

blind from this sweet, sweet craving (31k)

by missandrogyny (paynner)

“So, I guess we’ll go?” Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind. We could make it an adventure.”

Harry observes him, watches him, seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He’s fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry’s gaze–he probably knows that Harry’s mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he’s not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.

But he’s also Harry’s best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he’d still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He’s got Harry’s back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they’ll be able to get out of this situation,  together.

Harry sighs. “We’re going,” he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.

Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

Part 2 What is This Feeling

I got like 5 messages asking to continue this. I’m so glad you guys like it!! I have more to it if you guys want more. 

They’d tried working in the library. But their arguing got too loud and they got kicked out. It was too hot to work in the park. And frankly, Nico had seen enough of the God-awful classroom they were stuck in for ninety minutes. He didn’t want to stay any longer.

“What about your place?” Nico asked the third day they’d failed to find a study place.

“I left my keys and my parents are working,” Will said with a huff. “What about your place?”

Nico grimaced, but it came off as a scowl. He twisted his ring and shrugged. His father wouldn’t be home for hours. And he didn’t plan on having Will at his house for that long. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Keep up, I don’t like slow walkers.”

They started for his house and Nico let him in, feeling anxious. He hated this guy. Now he was in his house? He went to his room and put down his bag on the floor. He yanked out the chair at his desk and gestured for Will to sit as he turned his computer on.

But Will didn’t sit. He started glancing around the room and Nico watched him warily. He paused at his corkboard. “You had a girlfriend when you were little?” he asked.

Nico grimaced, feeling annoyed and melancholic at the same time. “That’s my sister,” he said. Then, knowing what he’d ask next, he added, “We have work to do Solace. Stop looking at my stuff.”

Will rolled his blue eyes and started for the chair. They managed to get more done that time, but Nico heard Will’s stomach grumble. He raised an eyebrow. “Hungry?” Will nodded sheepishly. “You could have said so. I’ll order pizza.”

Nico ordered online and they continued to work in tense silence. He had a lot of mannerisms that Nico couldn’t choose whether to label as endearing or annoying. Like asking questions aloud to himself, making sound effects as he searched, and tapping his foot. Before he could decide, the door opened and Nico’s stomach dropped. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?” Will asked.

“Nothing. Just stay here. And don’t touch anything.” He got up and left the room, shutting the door behind him. “Dad?” he called. He came into view, eyelids drooping and a beer bottle already in his hand to cure last night’s hangover. “Uh, I have a… friend over. We’re working on a project.” His father sighed in exhaustion and looked at him expectantly. “I ordered pizza. So… don’t worry about it.”

“With what money?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“My own,” Nico said softly. “It’s fine, Dad.” He shrugged and pushed past Nico to sit in the living room. He smelled sour, like stale alcohol and maybe even vomit. Nico felt the embarrassment creep up on him and berated himself. Who cared what Will thought about his dad? Nico didn’t like him much either.

He started back toward his room when the doorbell rang. Pizza. He took the box and thanked the delivery girl.

Will waited in his room, glancing around, shocked at how clean it was. He thought Nico would be messy. He figured he’d have his CD’s all over the floor, dirty clothes strewn on the bed, on the television, and have candy wrappers and half eaten food on his desk or littering the ground by his trashcan. But he didn’t.

Everything was in perfect order. The pictures on the corkboard. The books on his shelf, one pulled out with a bookmark in it. Will recognized it- The Kite Runner. He had a dry erase board with goals and reminders written on it. In one corner it had a motivational quote. The bottom corner was labeled ‘Memory of the Week’ and under it, When we were little, you never let me watch anything that wasn’t rated G. Will’s eyebrows furrowed and he neared the corkboard again. His sister.

The door opened suddenly and he walked in with that stoic expression and a pizza box in his hands. “Have at it,” he said. “I don’t eat pizza.”

“You bought me an entire pizza?” he asked in astonishment.

“Well, it’s not like I can buy four slices of it. Besides I don’t know how much you eat. I used to be able to eat a whole pizza by myself. Now I can barely manage a slice.” He returned to his computer and Will began eating. “Did you want something to drink?” he asked after Will had gotten through the third slice. Will shrugged and Nico rolled his eyes. “Honestly, would it kill you to speak up?”

“Well, you’re not exactly approachable,” he muttered. He was doing it again. He was giving Will that look that made him feel stupid and lame. Nico rolled his eyes and left the room again. He heard yelling suddenly and then Nico’s voice shouting over it.

“Dad! Dad give me the phone!” Will left the room and peered into the living room where a man with greasy shoulder length hair was yelling into a phone and at Nico. Nico had one hand on the man’s wrist and the other tried to pry away the phone.

He’d never seen so much emotion on Nico’s face. He looked sad and worried and scared and every single horrible emotion anyone could feel all at once. Will preferred the stoic look over the expression he had now.

“Dad, please. She’s not coming back!” Suddenly the man flicked his free hand, dousing Nico in liquid. Nico tensed, his eyes screwed shut. He let go of his father and wiped his eyes. When he opened them, they looked red and irritated. Surprisingly, he didn’t look angry. Just defeated. Somehow, that was worse. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He stepped away, and Will stood frozen in shock.

But when Nico passed by him, he didn’t say anything. He just went back to his room and Will recognized the acrid stench of beer. After mobility had returned to his limbs, Will went to his room, hoping to say something reassuring, but his words caught in his throat.

Nico was sitting on his bed, his shirt balled up at his feet, and a sweater in his hands. But he made no movement to put it on. He just sat there, staring at the floor, his jaw set. Will could see every line accenting his arm muscles, the gentle curve of his back as he slouched forward. And he couldn’t breathe. His heart was pounding in his ears. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Nico’s light brown skin and the muscles that adorned it.

Suddenly, Nico’s head snapped up. “I don’t like being watched. Stop staring at me.” He pulled the sweater on and Will blinked and snapped his mouth shut. He was about to object to staring when Nico said, “You should go. He’s just going to get worse.”


“I don’t want your pity or your sympathy or whatever it is that’s going to make you say whatever is on the tip of your tongue,” he snapped. “Just go.”

Will stepped back, slightly hurt. Before he was able to shut the door, he heard Nico call his name. He backtracked. “Don’t tell anyone,” was all he said.

The next day at school, Will couldn’t help but look for Nico in his classes and the hallways. He saw him laughing with his friends at lunch, flirting with some girl in the hallway, and of course in class where he had to sit by him to work on their project. But when he tried to bring up the night before, Nico would cut him off with a random question about the project.

He didn’t smell like beer anymore. He smelled like cologne and clean cotton. “If you don’t stop looking at me like I’m a lost puppy, I’m going to punch you in the face,” he said eventually.

“I’m worried about you,” Will blurted, surprising himself.

“Well, don’t be. Worry about this stupid project that tied our grade together.”

Will could feel his annoyance coming back. “You don’t have to be such a prick about it, Nico. So what if someone cares? What’s wrong with that?” Nico didn’t answer. He just kept working. When the bell rang, Will offered Nico to continue working at his house. “I have my keys today so if you want to keep working….” He shrugged.

Despite what Will had seen, Nico remained Nico. He continued with his expression, with his snide remarks, with that frustrating no emotion attitude. If anything, it had magnified in him. They went to his home where his father was working in the garage on the nice new car he never drove.

“Hey, champ!” he called. Will waved. “Who’s that?”

“Nico. We’re working on a project.” Will’s dad nodded and he led him inside. “My mom’s usually working till about nine.” He noticed the pictures of himself as a kid in a basketball uniform and groaned internally. Nico saw them, but he didn’t comment.

When he got into his room though, Nico let out a low whistle. Will had a table filled with trophies that dated back to when he was about ten. “You played basketball?” he asked.

“Dad wanted me to. I was good at it, but I didn’t like it. Mom intervened and made me get into academics and medicine and stuff.” Nico hummed and his eyes raked over the trophies and medals. “Anyway, project.”

They started working and after a while, Nico asked, “Your parents don’t check in on you?”

“Dad tends to forget about me. He spends his time in the garage, outside in the yard, fighting with my aunt, or something. Mom gets home too late.” He shrugged and glanced at Nico, unable to read his expression. “So-”

“I should go,” he said suddenly. “We’ve done a lot of work, we can take a break from each other.” He stood and rubbed his neck, letting out a long breath through his nose. “I’ll see you around.” He turned and left, closing the door before Will could answer.

“Okay,” he mumbled to the empty room, feeling oddly hurt. Same old Nico.

Click Here for Part 3

Top 10 Oneshots of 2016

To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity
During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

Something Great by infinitelymint
In which a coincidence, instagram, a party, a piano and a planned coming out all come together to make two people fall in love. As it happens, it turns out to be a rather effective combination.or, Louis is a student and Harry is the mega-famous singer that happens to post a photo with Louis in the background. Together they kind of break the internet.

Keep reading