eye hads


@chewbaccafarms asked for pidge in e3 and lance in a2 from this post !!!

drarrry-potter  asked:

have you guys ever realized your eyes make the slytherin colors?

Draco: *gleefully* Ah, indeed they do.

Harry: *grumpy* Great.

Draco: Oh, cheer up! It’s not like any two people’s eyes could ever make the Gryffindor colours!

Harry: Why not! People can have golden eyes?! My dad had hazel!

Draco: *flatly* And the red?

Harry: Voldem–! Fine, okay, Slytherin colours, woohoo.

Draco: *snorts*

You’re Happier Aren’t You?

Characters: Steve x Reader.

Summary: Steve Rogers is in love, actually when he really thinks about it he has been for some time but when you’re Captain America what is the best way to protect the person who means the most to you?

Word Count:  1830 words

Prompt: Ed Sheeran Happier

A/N: This is my entry for @amarvelouswritings 700 followers writing challenge.  I hope you like it sweetie xxx

Walking down 29th and Park with his baseball cap pulled down and his collar pulled up against the wind Steve was busy trying to clear his head when something made him stop.  It was possible that he had seen you out of the corner of his eye, perhaps he had caught the sound of your laughter on the breeze, whatever it was he found himself looking across the street and felt his heart stop.  It had been a month since he had last seen you and the memory of that last meeting had haunted him ever since.  His whole body tensed as he saw your arm linked with the tall, dark, handsome man as he leaned into say something and your face broke into such a bright smile it was if the grey day just melted away and when you laughed Steve’s heart ached.  He used to make you laugh but as he watched you he noticed that you looked happy, truly happy, and it was as if a knife was being twisted in his gut.  That smile that he had always felt was reserved for him was now being levelled at someone else and if he was being honest your smile was wider than he had ever seen.  Steve remained frozen, watching you as your mystery man opened the door of the bar for you and followed you in.  He didn’t even notice that it had started to rain as the people around him picked up their pace to get to their various destinations as if nothing had happened, totally oblivious to the man whose heart had just shattered into a million pieces.

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Fame, Harry's Style

Of the five, original members of 1D, Harry has been, by far, the most vocal about fame and its pitfalls.  He’s always been an enigma, of sorts - very open in the early years, but still guarded about his family and any truly private information.  To survive in the public eye, sensitive Harry had to build a shell around himself (something most people do well before they reach the age of 16.)  He had to learn that being famous and being known are two very different things.  I don’t think he (or any of the lads) were prepared for life in the spotlight.  I fondly remember a younger Harry who enjoyed tattling on himself - Tweeting when he got some deep heat in an unfortunate place, or mistook a tube of something for toothpaste.  This openness faded over time.  Harry was almost always on duty while 1D was active - often out stunting with a female while the other’s had an all too short break.  He was among the most over-exposed celebrities of the era and it took a toll on him.  

Harry loves attention, he loves to perform.  He doesn’t love people always wanting something from him - always taking, never giving - looking to devour him as if he were made of cake.  That’s what slowly drains the spark, life and soul out of so many in entertainment.  All celebrities project a certain image, they don’t share all of themselves openly - not if they hope to survive.  Harry’s image in 1D was one he hated, however.  He openly rebelled against his womanizer image, even in very early 1D interviews.  The image stuck, however, and he was stuck playing a character he wanted no part of.  Over the years, Harry has been trying to find a way to balance his love of performing, his desire to be known, his artistic drive, with his need for privacy.  Gradually, his womanizer image has faded.  Even though “relationships” with Taylor Swift and Kendall Jenner are still brought up, the idea of him bedding hundreds of women is usually not.  Today, he’s trying to move past his old image, be honest, authentic and maintain much needed privacy.  This is no easy task in the best of circumstances, but much more difficult for a closeted person.

I believe that Harry and Louis would be out now, if it were up to them.  For that matter, I believe that Harry could come out right now.  That said, he won’t come out without Louis and he probably shouldn’t in the middle of launching his solo project.  (http://old1ddude.tumblr.com/post/159198085792/gay-singer-harry-syles)  What he can do is continue what he started during the last 1D tour.  Harry, I think, is a very casual guy most of the time, but when it’s time to dress up he’s not interested in portraying himself as traditionally masculine.  Everything about his appearance during MitAM promo, in Another Man, his album cover, on SNL, on Graham Norton stands in direct contrast to his old image and even leads reasonable people to question if a straight man would really dare to dress like that.  To deal with the dichotomy of honesty, authenticity versus living in the closet and basic human need for privacy - Harry has taken a page from past stars - mystery.

Mystery is good for celebrities - they are more interesting when we don’t fully understand them.  Mystery allows him to show authentic facets of himself - allows him to be known, in part, while keeping a healthy portion of his life away from prying eyes.  For the time being, I think Harry will primarily express himself through his art and fashion.  (Fashion when he’s on duty - he’ll probably continue to wear “donut” hoodies when he’s on “free time.”)  I don’t think he’ll hide his goofy, dorky side that makes him so relate-able - though it will probably only come out in the occasional interview and on stage.  Time will tell how mysterious he’ll be when, eventually, he and Louis come out.  I think he’ll maintain it, largely - fame nearly ate him alive before.  That begs the question:  Why, if he’s going to be mysterious and express himself primarily through art, does he wear a Randy’s Donuts hoodie, pride pin and send out other signals that he and Louis are a couple?

I can not imagine Harry, or Louis queer-baiting the fandom.  I’ve been observing them too often and too long to believe they are capable of such cynicism, or manipulation.  Honestly, I believe Harry and Louis see the core of their Larry fandom as part of their (distant, second and third cousins) extended family.  They know most of us don’t badger them or their families with, “is Larry real?” comments, etc..  Some have been “alongside” them from the X-Factor days.  Larries validated Harry and Louis love - confirmed that many fans weren’t there because of sexual fantasies about the lads.  When an entire industry was telling them NO - the larries were telling them YES, “We love your love.”  It would have been much easier for them to go deeper into the closet, but I think they craved validation.  Harry and Louis want to keep their “extended family” in the loop.  The casual, average fan couldn’t make heads or tails out of Mr. R.B. Bear and company they were staged for the larries.  The song lyrics Harry tweeted left most in the dark - the larries figured (some of) them out.  They wrote a love story on their skin, most have ignored the obvious messages.  They haven’t been alone in their struggle, so I believe they deeply appreciate that.  We don’t know how much push an pull remains - when they will finally be out.  When we do get a little hint from Louis or Harry (even Niall or Liam for that matter) it’s not intended for the general public - it’s a little message for us.  I don’t believe they’re playing with our sympathies.  They’re kind of stuck in purgatory right now - the glorious light of “heaven” is visible, but they’re not there yet.  They are doing the best they know how.  For that matter, I don’t know if they want to come out with some glorious fanfare - time will tell.  I firmly believe they’re tired of hiding, however.  Harry want’s his Wiki bio to name Louis as his spouse and visa versa. 

It’s been little sad watching Harry hide more and more of his lovely self.  He will do what seems best for himself and Louis.  Harry is very young - trying to figure out how to share of himself and be known, without spending himself - giving too much of himself away.  He’s going to have missteps.  Some of his promo will likely make us cringe.  The press will continue hanging on to vestiges of his old image and stunts.  Even while being mysterious, he’s sending some very clear signals for those willing to listen.  Whatever works for Harry (and Louis) they don’t really owe us anything.  Things will change when they come out, but we shouldn’t expect them to start live Tweeting their whole lives at that point.  I’ll be here, offering my support, for however long it takes.

Cooking Shenanigans

A/N: (Y/S/N) = Your sister’s name. Also, the pun used in here was one I actually heard in real life.

Character: Harry

Warning(s): None

(I got the GIF from this post, but not sure if the person who uploaded it is the owner of it. If you know, please do let me know!)

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Kylo Ren x Reader

“Please Don’t Leave Me”

Note: I’m now taking Kylo Ren requests so send them in!


It was only supposed to be another day. But you felt it. You felt it in the air, in the way he moved across the room. His thick eyebrows narrow and his dark eyes surrounded by sleepless dark circles. Something was different, and you couldn’t place your finger on it.

Kylo was tense, his shoulders hunched over the table as he looked down at his helmet. His gloved hands grasping at the edge while his pitch black hair fell in front of his eyes. He had been standing there for 20 minutes now. It was still early morning before Kylo would put on the helmet, concealing his identity for the day until he’d see you again. Despite your guys’ usual small conversations in the mornings with hushed voices and soft kisses, he was quiet, not saying a word to you. You knew something was wrong from the second you woke up. He was already up, showered, and dressed, not in his usual spot beside you with his strong arms hooked around your small body… The bed sheets were instead cold around you. Usually, he was the last one ready for the day, lazily moving about the morning after you with heavy steps. Sighing, you grabbed a shirt from the closet, noticing Kylo walk over to the table that had his helmet propped up inside it.  You buttoned the front of your shirt, walking slowly behind him. He could feel you there, nearing him. Your energy seeping out of your heart as you yearned to touch him, to say something. To comfort him. But you didn’t dare. Days like these… He became unpredictable. Even towards you. Fear built up in your stomach. Though he’s never touched you before, you knew how ill-tempered he was.

Pushing your voice out, it came out as a whisper. “Ben…” He only let you call him by his real name. It wasn’t like he could stop you, but somehow, it make his heart squeeze and his breath hitch as a shiver ran down his back. He loved it.

Watching him, you sensed his body only growing colder as the seconds went on, and you swallowed. He had been getting stressed out more easily, more frequently throughout the last two weeks. Ever since Snoke stopped his training. Kylo didn’t understand why, which lead him to ask more and more questions. Too many questions. Snoke would continually say. But Kylo was impatient, arrogant. You knew this, yet, despite your friends’ warnings, you stayed with him.

Striding towards him, you then latched your arms around his waist, pulling his back against your chest. He was much taller than you, bigger, so you had to wrap your arms tightly around him in order to interlock your fingers, but he didn’t mind the feeling. Resting your forehead against the thick fabric of his shirt, you breathed out and felt him relax a little. But that didn’t stop the coldness of his energy making you grit your teeth. “It’s okay.” You murmured. “I know how it may seem-“ Kylo’s head then shot up, and he pulled you off of him.

“No. No, it’s not okay, y/n. You have no fucking idea.” He ran his long fingers through his hair. Burying them deep into the raven waves that fell heavily around his pale face.

“It’s Snoke isn’t it-“

He shot a sharp gaze towards your direction, and you swallowed your words. Hesitantly, you reached out to him. Mistake. As soon as your fingers lightly grazed his chin, Kylo’s hand shot up, and he threw it down. His voice cracking as he shouted at you. His fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist. Pain shot up your arm and your fingers grew numb.  

“Stop trying to help me! STOP! JUST STOP! YOU CAN’T!” Suddenly you couldn’t move. His booming voice making tears stream down your face. His lips were quivering as he stood only inches from you. Your body was numb, straining under his pressure.

“Ben-“ Your voice was raspy, and you gasped for air. He had you under his grip. Holding you in his anger. The force swirled around you, binding you, choking you. “Ben-“

Suddenly, his face softened and his eyes widened. You felt him release you, and you nearly collapsed to the ground with weakness. But Kylo lunged toward you, grabbing you so that you didn’t fall.

“I’m sorry-Y/n I’m so sorry. Please-Are you okay? Fuck-Oh god-I’m so sorry.” Once you regained your strength, you pressed your hands against his chest, shoving him off of you. Startled by your sudden strength, he tripped back a step. But then moved towards you again. You held up your hands.

“Don’t, touch, me.” Your voice was hard, and it felt like you had just slapped him in the face. Guilt filled your heart, but fear still shook you to your core. Your wrist throbbing-you didn’t look down to examine it, but you could still feel his fingertips digging into your skin.


“I have to go.” Quickly turning around, you rushed for the door. But Kylo beat you there. He then fell to his knees. Before you could do anything, he had wrapped his arms around your small waist, pulling you against him. Burying his face in the fabric of your shirt. You stood there, shutting your eyes. Holding your shaky hands in the air, Kylo’s shoulders shook against you. Looking down, you then pressed your eyebrows together, and gently pushed your fingers through his hair. Moving his head back so he looked up at you. His face was tear-stained with red-rimmed eyes. Big, puffy, chocolate brown eyes. You felt a wave of sadness crash over you.

“Please-I can’t lose you. Please don’t leave me.” His voice wavered against the pressure of his emotions, and you clenched your jaw. Lowering yourself to the ground, he leaned into you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck and pulling you tightly against him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him. Tears streamed down your face and you leaned your head down. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to… I didn’t-…”

You hushed him, closing your eyes and letting your tears soak into his shirt. “I know. I know.”

absoluteneed  asked:


send me a (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧ to get a hug, a kiss, or a slap, depending on what my muse thinks you deserve.


Tagged by @youngmutants @ishouldprobablychangemyusername and @magnvs-baen (thank lots💫🐋)

Funny how my handwriting gets progressively uglier as I go on. Also sorry for the smudges I’m messy

I’ll tag @murkybokuto @lupin-t-cat @scruffylookinghufflepuff @fabulous-eren to do way better than me

Jean got home from the studio around three in the afternoon, after a fairly productive day of painting. He expected to be greeted as he was most days by Jeremy running up to give him a kiss and tell him about his day at work, but he was peculiarly met with silence instead.

He furrowed his brow as he set to looking around the house for his sunshine. He eventually found him in a blanket heap near the window, arm thrown over his eyes.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, crouching down, “what’s going on?”

“Bad day,” Jeremy mumbled instinctively seeking out the warmth of Jean’s chest.

“What happened?” Jean asked, brushing Jeremy’s hair out of his eyes.

“I had to send a kid to the principal’s. And then I’ve just been out of it all day. And…and I broke the mug you made me for our anniversary.”

Jean leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Baby, it’s okay. I can make you another one.”

“I know. Just…not feeling very sunny today.”

Jean tapped Jeremy’s leg to get him to sit up so Jean could carry him over to the couch. He pulled Jeremy back so he was settled against his chest and said, “You sound like you just need to recharge.”

“Mmm,” Jeremy said, nuzzling in, “if that means cuddles, I’m a fan.”

Jean chuckled and stroked over his back. “Anything for you, my sunflower.”

Imagine: finding a  Hellhound. - Part 2

Part 1

Crowley X Reader

Content: Fluff

Winter melted into a hesitant spring. Ice clung to the young flowers threatening to bloom against the frost seeped earth. Between bursts of warm rain and sudden chill, you left the confines of the cabin, dog of smoke and fire trodding at your heel. Cerberus’ eyes of deep crimson had shifted from two pools of thick blood to glowing embers at two months. His fearsome appearance didn’t bother you, instead, filled you with warmth and safety. You stooped to grab a broken limb. Cerberus yipped excitedly dancing at your feet impatiently. You wagged the stick before chucking it across the clearing. Frost flew as he charge the projectile. A snap echoing the clamour of a gunshot pierced the air as his jaws broke the stick midair. You clapped encouragingly calling the confused pup back. Cerberus looked at the wreckage under his paws, head tilted inquisitively as the splinters of wet wood.

Crowley appeared beside you, hands buried in his pockets to yield the chill in the air. You remained clueless to his presence, leaning forward even to try to catch Cerberus’ eyes. Crowley kept his silence, rocking back on his heels to catch a full view of the curve of your back. His brow arched, impressed. You righted your posture with a sigh as you watched Cerberus pick up each paw to inspect the dust beneath them.

“C’mere boy! C’mon!” You tried again.

“I do believe you’ve addled the mutt’s brain.” Crowley drawled not bothering to hide a smirk when you jumped in surprise.

“Y-you!” Your hand came over your heart in an attempt to keep it from leaping from your chest. “You’re back!”

“I did say I would return to train the damn pup.” He said a little crossly at your incredulous tone.

“Y-yes.” You nodded.

He quirked a brow at you. “You needn’t be so worried about me. I won’t kill you, yet.” You jumped at his modifier. He waved away your concern. “Killing a pathetic human like you is a waste of energy.”

“Human?” You repeated the word under your breath, brow furrowed. You snuck a glance at him to see the man smirking confidently at you. You shifted your weight uncomfortably.

“I’m a demon, love.” He explained with audacious authority. “King of Hell, actually.”

You stepped back instinctively. With a slight shrug he turned back to Cerberus who spotted the newcomer and was bounding towards them.

“Like I said, no reason to kill you, love.”

His reassurance left something to be desired, but when he fell to a knee reaching out to your puppy he seemed less threatening, endearing even. He caught Cerberus around the collar, a swatch of cloth you’d ripped from an old shirt. His hands rubbed his neck before sliding to his head to give him a sweet pet between the ears. You watched quietly. The one rule you abided by with strangers was with how they treated animals and, so far, “King of Hell” didn’t seem to mean much before a puppy. Cerberus’ head rolled to the side, tongue panting happily as Crowley scratched a patch behind his ear. You crouched beside him stroking Cerberus’ side. The attention intoxicated the young hellhound. Cerberus flopped on his side with an audible thunk revealing his fathomless belly to you. You grinned dropping a quick kiss to his nose. Cerberus managed to lick your chin as you pulled away, the skin puckering red and angry.

“Why do you let him to that?” Crowley questioned, eyeing the burnt skin.

You patted the spot gingerly. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.” You reached down to scratch his chest. “He’s just showin’ love is all. S’not his fault it hurts.”

“I see.”

“What are you planning on teaching him, anyways?” You asked finding the courage to meet Crowley’s dark eyes.

He pulled back a fraction, easing his shoulders up on an inhale. Your unwavering gaze brought him a pause. His gaze flicked down your body once again, reevaluating what he already knew. If you were afraid of him, which he could tell you were by the hesitant wide eyed looks you cast him, then why did you suddenly cock your head to the side and engage in conversation?

“Sit, fetch, maul living, drag a soul to hell.” He smirked, “You know, all the usual tricks.”

You frowned. “I don’t think Cerberus will want to do that though…”

Crowley’s eyebrows twitched to his hairline. That definitely wasn’t reaction he hoped to encourage, rather, your behavior struck him as unsettling. If you were a hunter, sure, adjusted ambivalence and calm contemplation would have been expected, but you were just… human. He stuffed his hands in his overcoat pockets, wrestling with the impending realization that you were beginning to make him feel less confident. He dragged his focus from your face, now serenely watching Cerberus pounce a pile of snow.

“He really doesn’t have a choice in the matter.” He retorted a tad harsher than intended.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Your head snapped in his direction. “You… you aren’t going to hurt him are you?”

Crowley feigned offense. “You assume because I am a demon I would hurt my own hellhound?”

Your eyes dropped, cheek warming. “Sorry…”

Crowley’s lips curled, satisfied with your reaction. It was refreshing, for once, not having dim-witted comments or incessant backtalk thrown his way. The way you chewed your lip nervously allotted the comfort of control.

“If I were any other demon, you’d be absolutely correct.” He trained stoicism as your eyes flew to his face. “I, however, am partial to the beasts: a happy hound is a happy hell… or something to that effect.”

You pinched your lips together, biting your tongue to keep from asking more questions. Crowley whistled to the pup, immediately earning his fleeting attention. Cerberus yipped, a strangled sound that betrayed the depth of his throaty vocalizations, and sprung into a full sprint. His lithe body shook as he waited for Crowley to speak again.

“Sit.” Crowley ordered simply.

Cerberus tilted his head to the side.

“Cerberus,” You said sweetly, bringing his fiery eyes to yours. “Sit!”

His butt connected to the earth with more force than necessary. His tail swept from side to side behind him brushing away snow. You grinnned.

“Good boy!”

His tail thumped.

Crowley sighed. “What else did you teach him?”

“Well, he can sit, lay, and fetch.” You explained rubbing Cerberus’ neck. “We were learning how to play dead, weren’t we? But, we couldn’t keep still long enough, could we?”

“Why the bloody hell would a hound need to play dead?” Astonishment laced Crowley’s voice. “Fine, let’s just move on, shall we?” He pulled on a shallow reserve of patience. “Now normally, I use a dismembered femur for the beasts to retrieve, I assume you’ve taught him to repossess candy canes and rainbows or something equally frivolous.”

You shot him a bemused judgemental look, “No, just sticks… Although, he has brought me a book before, but I would never throw that. I think he just likes it when I read to him.”

“You… read to the mutt?” He clarified with perfect disdain.

“So?” You pouted, unable to hide your annoyance. “He likes it and, anyways,” you crossed your arms pivoting away from him, “at least, he listens to my commands.”

“Parlor tricks!” Crowley snapped. “I can train a hellhound to rip the soul from beating heart and drag it to the bowels of everlasting hell!”

“That would impressive if that meant anything to me.” You rolled your eyes. “And at any rate, it seems like you aren’t doing a very good job with Cerberus. You can’t even get him to sit.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed a fraction. He spun to Cerberus who, at your every word, reacted appropriately. Crowley’s heated glare was lost on the playful hound. Crowley should have felt annoyed, the deep bite of irritation at your words, but instead they brought a cooler, cleaner emotions to cling in his mind like the frost sticking to the new growth. He snapped his finger disappearing from the clearing under the guise of insult. You looked around, the area suddenly too bright without the darkly clad man. You kneeled giving Cerberus a good rub wondering if you had gone too far.

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Aptitude for harmony
Sets slowly upon golden shores

Greet with an imprint on hearts
Not the distance in our eyes

Had a soul that was going and going
Love is madness and need
Bound as one

Fascinated by constructs of time
Invite destiny to interact

The landscape a mixed applause
Of relics abandoned
And recherché wording

Emerge from the depths of darkness
Shadowed by treetop canopy fears

Too many congruent features
Protected within a pseudo dream

Lunchtime Drabble: Training the Inhuman (5/?)

Lunchtime Drabble: Training the Inhuman (5/?)
Pairing: Avengers x Reader for now. Relationships develop as I go.
Word Count: 615
Warnings: short reader, fluff, fighting, and a little angst.

A silver figure stood in the empty training room. All the weight training equipment had been moved to the side. Y/N stared at herself in the mirrored wall. She was completely silver as her power flowed through her. Her hair and eyes flashed, her suit had turned the same silver, even her skin had a silver tint to it now. She looked entirely… inhuman.

Bucky stumbled out of his bed, rocked awake by another nightmare, and decided to head to the gym to work off some of his anxiety. He threw on some sweats and an old t-shirt that had holes in it. No one else would be awake, no need to dress up. The doors of the elevator opened on the training floor and he stepped into the gym and his blurry vision immediately cleared. Y/N was still staring at herself in the mirror. She was all “silvered up” as Sam called it. But not moving. Her hair and eyes flashed as if something was happening but she was perfectly still. She didn’t seem to hear him enter the room so he cleared his throat loudly to get her attention.

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stefartemis  asked:

Prompt.. Not very original but it came to mind. Dramionarry + first time kisses

Her first kiss with Harry had been technically an accident. 

They had been playing spin the bottle with some other Gryffindors in the common room during their sixth year and they had been unfortunate enough for the bottle to point in their direction. She and Harry? They were practically siblings! 

Or so had she thought.

No one else thought much of the kiss, not even Ron, as they all knew the nature of hers and Harry’s relationship and after all it was just a simple peck on the lips, right? 

But Hermione had noticed the way Harry’s green eyes had widened in silent realization when their lips touched, a confirmation that he too had felt what she felt. It barely lasted a second, but Hermione had spent many nights thinking about it. And it wasn’t until years later, after the war and their other relationships had ended, that they were able to relive that fleeting spark of feelings that had started thanks to a silly muggle game.

Draco’s and Harry’s kiss was next, less of an accident and more of a drunken stupor during the best Bachelor’s party either of them had ever attended. Ron was marrying Pansy and the two men had seen more and more of each other every day, until all the tension and furtive glances and snide remarks exploded into a crash of lips and tongues that found them panting against each other in the coat’s room of a fancy club.

Hermione hadn’t been jealous per se, it’s not like she and Harry were together or anything. They had just been there for each other a few times, still figuring out what it all meant.  But he had told her nonetheless, not wanting to keep secrets from her best friend and possible…girlfriend?

It took a while for her to accept Draco as part of their group, an oftentimes interesting and perpetually infuriating part of their group, but Harry had kept them both close, hanging out with one, then the other, then together, as if weighing his options for days on end, constantly comparing Hermione to Draco, Draco to Hermione, until she’d had enough.

She burst unannounced through the Malfoy’s Floo, knowing Harry was currently there probably writing his ‘pros and cons’ list, but she came face to face with Draco and no one else.

Harry had left to see Teddy hours ago according to him, and Hermione had all the pent up rage and rehearsed speech busting inside of her, so she started yelling at the Slytherin for lack of a better outlet.

To her surprise, he was just as angry as she was and had planned to tell Harry as much.

They ended up spending the afternoon together, talking trash about Harry but discussing the wonderful things, too. They both knew they were technically rivals for Harry’s love, but their jabs at each other started lacking any real malice after the fourth or fifth glass of expensive wine.

“I can’t believe I’m up against you, what does Harry see in you anyway?”

“I could ask the same question,”

“You’re not even good-looking,”

“You’re not even funny,”

“I bet you’re not even a good kisser,”

“I bet you want to find out,”

She couldn’t remember who said what or who leaned in first, it could have been either, it could have been both, but the feeling of something igniting in her chest was most definitely shared as Draco reached and wrapped his arms around her like he never wanted to let go.

The Floo roared to life but it took them a while to notice, only breaking apart when tentative footsteps came closer.

Harry James Potter had the most self-satisfied, indulgent, and smug grin she had ever seen in her whole life and that came from someone who had just snogged Draco Malfoy.

“I guess my plan worked.”


Sam x Reader
Words: 1,318
Warnings: brief swearing, mentions of blood
A/N: This is for @idreamofhazel and @impala-dreamer ‘s Sammy Says challenge. My prompt was:  #2: “You know this whole ‘I laugh in the face of death thing’? It’s crap. I can see right through it.” Congrats on the follower milestone, guys! I hope you like it!! <3

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Cross My Soul (Day 6: Promise)

Let’s just pretend that this is on time….


“Can you promise me something?”

The question caught him off guard, and for a moment, he thought of saying no. Soul wasn’t very good at keeping promises, he’d really preferred to avoid them. Besides, if he broke it, the young albino would become, yet again, a disappointment. As he turned to face her, however, he was immediately put off by the way her eyes had lost all mirth. This was serious. Soul couldn’t afford to joke around right now.

“Depends on what it is, Maka,” He responded, though he was worried he messed up by saying it. It was obvious Maka needed reassurance. She didn’t voice any displeasure though.

Locking her pure emerald green eyes with his competing rubies, she asked, “Will you promise not to leave me?” The uncharacteristic vulnerability came off of her in waves, and Soul immediately understood. No matter how much she would deny it, Maka had some abandonment issues. She was being an idiot though, like Soul could ever leave her!

“I promise Maka, ’m not going anywhere,”

“Cross your soul?”

Her scythe snickered at the death child’s play on ‘cross my heart’. It was actually pretty damn cute, if you asked him. She, however, scowled at the aspect of him laughing. “What’s so funny?!? I’m trying to be serious, okay?!” He sobered slightly at her yells, looked straight into her ember green eyes, and said,

“Cross my soul, Maka.” He lifted his right hand, and made a cross over where he would guess his soul would reside.

“Promise you won’t let me fall?”

Soul and Maka were quite literally on the edge. His hand was tightly clasped with hers, and Soul idly thought that he couldn’t keep this promise. He pushed that to the back of his mind, though. She was dangling at the edge of a cliff! Not the best time to think negatively.

It was at least a twenty feet drop, perhaps more. If she were to fall, it wouldn’t be without a scratch. As his sanguine eyes focused back on her, he smiled broadly, showing off his shark teeth and dimple. With a voice that evidently dropped with worry, he said:

“I promise Maka, I’m not gonna drop ya,”

“Cross your soul?”

Tightening his grip, he tried his best to lift his nimble meister away from the ledge. However, Soul may looked built, he’s not the one who trains almost everyday, she is. The scythe weapon fell down the cliff, with his meister’s hand still in his own.

Deciding to make the best out of the situation that will most likely lead to his demise, Soul watched the sun set, the wonderful hues of color dancing in the sky as one. The sun fought , and slowly lost, the battle of sleep. Everything seemed so slow, and the scythe could barely position himself to protect her body from the collision with the rocks below. A bird voiced it’s song to the afternoon. How peaceful would their death’s be? Right here, on this lovely late afternoon? There would be no screams, he knew, it would be quick. Just about all the stillness would be preserved.

Soul had excepted his death. Yet as he saw how Maka’s golden pigtails swam in the sky, and catch the beautiful afternoon colors, he remembered the promise he had made to her.

A new determination for their lives–her life–washed over him. Soul’s other hand changed into a scythe and hooked onto a supporting rock. Thank Death her hand was still in his. They dangled by his scythe arm, just a few feet away from demise. Time stood still.

“Cross my soul, Maka.”

“Promise you’ll lead me?”

She seemed to always find a way to make him promise something. As the jazz music drifted through the checkered room, Soul was moving in sync with Maka. The demon watched with a judge full eye. Did the little imp know of his desire for her? Perhaps. They are the same person.

Right now though, he couldn’t really enjoy moving in step with her. There’s a reason she was here, after all. She was risking her sanity just to match wavelengths with Crona. Which was extremely stupid. He couldn’t really focus on that, though. There was a heel in his foot at the moment.

“P-promise, Maka. I’ll always be here to take the lead.”

“Cross your soul?”

The imp snickered slightly, as Soul did the first time she said that. Giving the thing a death glare, Soul growled. The music was haunting, and yet his little meister was in no affect of it. The spark in her eyes made his sigh, then he smirked.

“Cross my soul, Maka,” Soul spun her around, ignoring the throb in his foot, as the room in his soul faded to nothingness.

“Promise you’re still my weapon?”

Soul had officially become a death scythe just about a month ago, and he somehow knew this was coming. The worry in her eyes made him sigh. These silly little promises of hers. His little rabbit (don’t tell anyone he calls her that in his head) was such the worry wart.

She rested her head on his lap, the T.V. blaring a commercial he had no care for. It was lunch time, and Maka was being too lazy to get up.

“I promise Maka. I’ll always be your weapon. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

She smiled fondly. They really only used the 'cross you soul’ thing when they were younger, but perhaps it would be nice to rekindle the tradition?

“Cross your soul?”

He gave her a broad grin. Her hair was getting longer, he noted, as he took it out of her pigtails. Combing his fingers through it, Soul also noticed that she closed her emerald eyes, most likely becoming sleepy from his affectionate actions. When will he tell her his true feelings? Keeping it platonic was extremely hard.

“Cross my soul, Maka,” He absentmindedly kissed a strand of her hair.

“Promise you love me?”

Maka blinked once. Twice. Did he just steal her line? She had to stop herself from chuckling. He was truly a dork, and he showed it more than ever after a year of dating.

They sat on the roof, Blair purring on Maka’s lap, sound asleep, while the meister sat in between her lovers legs. The sun was just a sliver in the horizon. Purples and blues and reds created a painting that will never be created again. Nothing will ever look like this again. The world is too unpredictable to make the same piece of art work.

“I promise, Soul. I love you with everything I have.”

“Cross your soul, little rabbit?”

She blushed at the nickname, though he had been using it since they began dating. His strong fingers traced her cheekbone, while the other hand played idly with a strand of golden hair. Blair stretched out on her lap, but her sleep remained undisturbed. She smiled up at him.

“Cross my soul, Soul Eater,”


Sorry you had to read through my cringe writing!