hanging candles

Jack seems like the kind of person that would get lost in a resort town and while everyone’s looking for him he’s just hanging out at the candle shop thoroughly enjoying watching the employees dip and carve wax. 

Tip if you live with room mates or parents:

Make your bedroom your SANCTUARY. Make a place you want to go to at the end of the day to relax, having a dirty room is so stressful. And I get it, you sit there and stare at it, but don’t tackle the clutter because it’s overwhelming. My advice, just start somewhere. Even if it takes you a few days. GET RID OF STUFF YOU DON’T NEED. Minimize your belongings. (Read DO LESS by Rachel Jonat. It has seriously changed my view on organization and clutter and has opened my habits and my mind to minimalism) I donate all of my unused but salvageable goods to thrift stores, because keeping them around to try and sell them can cause you to continue to be overwhelmed.
Then, once you’re room is cleaned, let your bed be your bed. It’s for sleeping and lounging only. Try to get a good desk for homework and study.
Then for decorations
GET COZY SHEETS, CANDLES, FAIRY LIGHTS, drape tulle or tapestries along your walls or ceilings with push pins or command hooks. (Small Holes in walls are easy to fix by yourself btw, just do a quick google search.)
Get a cozy comforter and comfy pillows. If you have an uncomfortable mattress, get a comfy foam mattress topper (@ target for $12) to help. Keep a little tray that you can lay your night time goodies on. Mine has a lavender pillow spray, a wide tooth comb, water bottle, Vaseline (I put it on my lips, lashes and brows before bed), and my notebook in case I have any wild ideas I want to jot down during the night.
Keep a catch all try by your door. Lay your keys, sunglasses, watch, etc. there, so you know where they are when you’re rushing out the door. Also, have a place to put your purse. If you can’t put a hook on the wall to hang it up, get an over the door hook hanger from Walmart. (I love this thing because I keep my purse, school bag, fave Nike hat and umbrella there, and I always know where I put them.
Use things like white boards, calendars, and pin boards to keep yourself organized, and design yourself a motivational vision board.
ORGANIZE YOUR DRESSER. Keep socks, undies, bras, tights in the top drawer, then shirts, then pants. But if you can, hang up tips that you know will get wrinkles easy.
Put a cozy rug in your room to keep your feet warm, but don’t forget to clean it, because if you have pets it will start to stink.
Keep clutter off your bed and DIRTY CLOTHES IN THE HAMPER. I don’t care if you need 3 hampers, idc if you need 3 hampers for dirty clothes and 2 for clean clothes, just KEEP THEM OFF THE FLOOR.
Play some chill music while you just hanging out. Light your candles, sit back, and enjoy your beautiful chill room.

Problems with the Witchblr Community

There are some serious fucking problems occurring on this website, like:

  1. Peoples’ grimoires are way too artistic. Like seriously you all need to tag that shit like “hey this may trigger you because this Van Gogh beautifully-crafted art style might blind you and gush your morality with its beauty and cause your perspective of your own grimoire/BOS to wilt like a flower on fire”. I don’t take the time to even update my BOS, never mind decorate it with these gorgeous illustrations.
  2. The quality of pictures are way too high. I don’t know where people are getting all these professional cameras. Like I take pictures with my phone or shitty Samsung and post them, and I know I wouldn’t even reblog that shit, the quality is way too low. This results in a standard of high quality Instagram-worthy pictures that is too high for me to keep up with, y’all need to lower your photography skills.
  3. Peoples’ altars are too perfectly positioned in the sunlight, like bathing in the holiness of the sun or moon and washing any of vestige of mortality away from that spot. This kinda weaves into the photography complaint but basically, y’all stop being so artsy.
  4. Digital sigils are too easily and perfectly displayed. I don’t know how people make those sigils, it’s like an elusive angelic society that just sprinkles down talent and useful spells like falling stars. Seriously y’all need to post a how-to on that shit because I don’t have a tablet and just take pictures of hand-drawn sigils, but even those who post their hand-drawn sigils draw them incredibly better than I draw my sigils. 
  5. The witches on this site are way too creative. They’re all thinking of tips and techniques I never thought of before, and it makes everyone else feel dumb because they didn’t think of them first.
  6. Pretty much every witch on this site seems to have a green thumb. They say taking care of plants doesn’t require a green thumb, but I beg to differ because pretty much every plant I own dies. Like I don’t know if it’s because I’m a death witch and am literally radiating death energy, but I can’t keep plants alive for my own life. Green witches gotta share their real secrets, HOW are you keeping your plants alive.
  7. Then there are some problems like elitism, transphobia, homophobia, racism, nazism, blatant disrespect for peoples’ religions and cultures, the hatred with which we argue, and the fear that I’m always being scrutinized and that no matter what I say extreme SJWs will cherry-pick the things I say and misconstrue my argument into something i never said in the first place so i might as well just not even say my opinion on anything which i’m doing right now so i’ll just shut up and continue the joke
  8. The spooky and ethereal Witch Aesthetic™ is too on point. All the hanging herbs and lit candles and smoke from incense are too entrancing and immediately calm my mood and cause me to daydream about the eloquence of the witchy aesthetic. It’s too romanticized. It causes me to enjoy my own craft too much, and I reblog too many of them. We need to cut those down by a bunch.

Just had to get that off my chest.

hogwarts houses & autumn aesthetics

gryffindor. the crackling of fire; roasted marshmallows; loud laughs; soft pillows; socked feet; burning your tongue while sipping a hot drink too quickly; jumping in coloured piles of leaves; the smell of cinnamon, orange and chocolate; hair blowing wildly in the wind; oversized sweaters; listening to loud music through headphones; baking with friends and laughing hysterically at the mess you create; watching stars from the rooftop; lying on the floor in a moment of deep thought

ravenclaw. watching people through foggy windows in cafes; overthinking; clouds of warm breath in the cold air; the cold crisp of air against your face; cups of hot coffee in the morning; listening to the hammering of the rain against the window, or the roof; wrapping up in soft blankets; silent chuckles; hidden smiles; the sound of pages turning; soft scarves; muttering something under your breath while concentrating; loose ponytails; deep conversations at night; paint in warm colours; tired yawns; falling stars

hufflepuff. messy buns; the sound of crunching leaves under your boots; knotted cardigans; wide smiles; star gazing; deep sighs; soft socks; rosy cheeks; fluffy earmuffs; vanilla scented candles; hanging fairy lights everywhere; warm and long hugs; hot chocolate with marshmallows; pumpkin carving; staying in bed just a little bit longer; flower crowns; sunny mornings; walking around with flowers in your jeans pockets; delighted laughs; capturing the last rays of sun with a vintage camera; intertwined fingers; cuddles

slytherin. cold fingertips; walking through the woods; inhaling the cold air at night; content smiles; the feeling you get when you can finally lay in bed after a shitty day; pressing your forehead against a cold window; combat boots and oversized coats; dark lip colours; the flickering of candle light in the darkness; misty mornings; black tea; leather gloves; deep, husky voices; amused smirks; walking barefoot on a cold, wooden floor; black, wide-brimmed hats and vintage sunglasses 

exo as types of housemates


• he keeps the apartment clean and tidy

• does a full clean of the apartment once a week

• gets annoyed when his housemates leave dirty dishes in the sink too long

• bought a box to put the dirty dishes in. if they’re not washed and put away within his given time frame…he’ll throw them away

• writes a lot of passive aggressive notes and leaves them everywhere

• early bird. by the time everyone wakes up he would have finished his morning jog, showered, eaten breakfast, fed his cat, washed the dishes, made his bed and is ready to go to work

• always sleeps before 10 pm


• mum. nags a lot but also shows you lots of love 

• bought a whiteboard for the living room. wrote reminders, the weekly chores roster, encouragements, weekly menu and to do lists on it

• wine enthusiast. has an impressive wine collection. drinks a glass every night (borderline addict) 


• loves hosting dinner parties

• loves having wine and board game nights

• avid reader. has multiple full bookcases in the apartment


• kind and gentle

• enjoys growing cute little succulents and cacti on the windowsills and desks 

• has a love hate relationship with a pigeon who lives outside his bedroom window

• can be a bit absent minded sometimes. forgets to put the milk and butter back in the fridge occasionally (apologises profusely)

• decorates the apartment with cozy touches (eg. soft blankets on the couch, hanging fairy lights, buying candles and buying fresh flowers for the coffee/dining table)

• can be a phantom some days. his housemates know he’s still here by his plates and cup being washed and drying in the rack. he’s usually holed up in his room working

• doesn’t mind cleaning after everyone once in a while but he gently reminds them to do it themselves so the apartment isn’t infested with cockroaches and ants


• he always has music blasting from his room

• always starting DIY projects he saw on pinterest, facebook or tv shows. rarely finishes them. incomplete projects everywhere

• handy man. can do minor repairs

• a bit of a klutz. breaks dishes and cups sometimes. replaces them promptly

• has 5 bottles of bug spray distributed around the apartment (he hates bugs and spiders)

• cooks really well! his housemates rarely order in when he’s home (he loves cooking for people so it’s no biggie)

• enjoys creating daily vlogs to document his life


• you can hear youtube gameplay videos blasting from his room (esp. markiplier and jacksepticeye)

• leaves dirty dishes in the sink. when he runs out of dishes and utensils he has disposable plates and utensils in his room

• eats some of his housemate’s food without asking

• never throws out the trash when it’s full. proceeds to push his rubbish down further into the bin to make room

• “borrows” his housemate’s stuff and leaves a note saying he’ll give it back

• walks around naked sometimes

• night owl. watches movies late into the night or plays games until the early morning


• whines a lot over little things

• trolls his housemates a lot (sticky notes their room, wraps the toilet in glad wrap, puts cups of water on the floor of their bedroom etc…)

• always yelling from the toilet saying that he ran out of toilet paper

• bought a karaoke machine

• loves throwing parties for every occasion (birthdays, work promotions, halloween, new years etc…)

• always has a friend over visiting 

• in the end though, he really is a kind and reliable person who respects everyone’s wishes and feelings


• very sensible

• a little bit shy

• goes to culinary school so he is an amazing chef! everyone in the apartment looks forward to dinner when it’s his time to cook

• sings in the shower, when he’s tidying up, doing the dishes and laundry. his housemates always ask him to sing more but he’s shy

• has a big tea collection in the kitchen cupboard

• enjoys watching sitcoms with everyone (Friends, Seinfeld, Modern Family etc…)

• falls asleep on the couch a lot. His housemates tuck him in before they go to sleep


• sweet and fun

• animal lover. he already has 3 dogs but occasionally, random animals are in the apartment because he feels bad for the strays on the street

• tries to cook but his “recipes” are… odd 

• he’s a bit messy but if you ask him to do something he will have no problem in getting it done

• whenever he uses up the toilet paper he forgets to replace it with a new roll

• falls asleep in random areas around the house (against the wall, dinner table, couch, floor etc…)

• he sleeps in such a deep slumber and looks so comfy that his housemates feel bad for waking him up (they do just cover him in a blanket if he’s sleeping somewhere soft)


• pays his part of the bills late

• always leaves the toilet seat up

• he’s that guy who nearly finishes all the milk/juice except for a few mls. he then proceeds to put the carton back in the fridge (why can’t he just use it all and throw it out?!)

• doesn’t do any chores until someone actually asks him or scolds him

•needy. he’ll just enter one of his housemate’s room and lies on their bed while bothering them

• enjoys having movie marathons with his housemates

• interested in fashion. goes clothes shopping twice a week. leaves clothes everywhere. has a huge pile of laundry in his room

Owned - End

Originally posted by hopeatuuli

Now it was surreal. This was to be your child’s room. A child. His child.

You saw it in his eyes, how much he loved this baby already. The excitement in your heart seemed to explode every moment you met his eyes.

“I can’t.” You but your lips nervously, hand shaking and looking at him for help.

He smiled and it was perfect, that moment. He put his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it, pushing the door open and watching for your reaction.

You gasped and felt speechless.

Keep reading

-an old love of mine (i)

Request: Hello there, I just wanted to know if you got my previous request: Could you please write a Jon Snow imagine the reader grew up with the starks and formed a romantic relationship with Jon during that time, but she had to leave winterfell because her father married her off to some northern lord (one of the reasons why Jon decided to take the black), fast forward to Sansa and Jon trying to gather allies for battle of the bastards, they meet again and they realize their feelings only grew

a/n: hope you enjoy the first part!

“Married!” the outrageous cry of disbelief rings clear and high throughout the room. It seems the syllables are the only sounds for moments after, for the great and hulking lord that sits before the raging woman remains silent and tight lipped. 

Sons had been hard to raise alone. Daughters were harder. 

The theory had proven correct when his daughter had been born wailing and thrashing into the world, the whole of Torrhen’s Square and possibly the entire north witness to her rage. She was fearsome to behold then, a small and tiny thing full of her mothers despair. And now was the same; discontent and unadulterated anger flashing in her eyes and the light of the candles hanging from the walls bouncing off her face and making it all hollow lines and sharp angles. 

There is an anger in her that is both wild and beautiful, and is something Lord Tallhart has been witness to only a certain amount of times. But it is not common for members of his house to hide such carnal rage within them. She should not be so familiar with such wildness. Perhaps being raised among the Stark children has finally made her into one of them, and now she holds in her an undomesticated vexation akin to a wolves. 

“I will not be married father!” she is pacing now and the clink of her boots and the steel sword by her hip ring off the stone walls of Lord Tallhart’s chamber. Y/n had never been content with posing as a lady, and her attire that would rather be suited to a male made that fact all too clear to any one who set eyes on her. But her hair is still kept long and her face is far too beautiful to be kept behind the walls of Winterfell. 

“You are a Lady and therefore you will fulfill your duty and marry a Lord. I have received almost close to thirty marriage proposals and suggestions from every corner of the North, and even one from Lord Randyll Tarly who suggests a fine and strapping young son Dickon as a husband for you” his words are quick and rough, and they do not comfort her in any way but rather irritate her further. 

“I will not be sold to someone named Dickon! Or anyone for that matter” she is a graceful whirl of thick hair and clinking steel as she rushes towards her father who sits watching with eyes that are dimming with age each day “please father, you can’t make me. I want to stay here at Winterfell” 

“You can not!” the words are harsher than he had intended them, but there is a truthful anger in them that he knows he has been holding back. His daughter may be young, perhaps a year or two younger than most are when married, but a union with someone of high birth is almost paramount at this stage. 

Jon Snow watches with those black eyes that are deep with a love Lord Tallhart can not bear when he sees him watching his daughter, and it is this reason he must sell her off to someone of legitimate birth. Jon is not the only one who has a deep buried desire that seems to radiate from ever crevice of his being when he eyes y/n. Tallhart’s daughter seems to reciprocate the feelings that the Stark bastard all too plainly displays while in crowded rooms and beneath weirwoods at prayer; their eyes always meeting no matter the place. 

“This is my home, and I belong here!” y/n cries, the barrier between childishness and maturity blurring as she yet again becomes a little girl in front of him. He wishes she were small enough to cradle and kiss and young enough to believe in stories and in her fathers promises. But she is not a child any longer but a woman, graceful and beautiful and fearsome to look upon and she must fulfill her duties. 

“Torrhen Square is your true home, and when you are married some castle or holdfast will be your new one” her Lord Father tells her and there is a flash of something so sad within her eyes that he is reminded of her mother all too painfully. 

“I never asked to be raised here, but you brought me here for Lady Catelyn to foster alongside Robb when mother died and when you went and fought with the King. You made this place my home by sending me here” she tells him, a dangerous softness replacing her tone of anger that had previously seeped her words with rage “but I do not wish to leave it” 

“If it pleases you I will let you read these letters” her father gestures towards the now crinkled and folded letters that are covered in different scrawls all in black ink. Y/n can notice some of the sigils that are marked on them with wax, and some are too obscured for her to recognise, but she does not care. Names and sigils and house words do not matter to one that is already in love and marriage proposals are altogether shunned from her mind if it is not one from the only man she wishes to marry. 

But you can never marry a bastard.The words are seething and sharp as they are whispered in her ear by her demonic, stalking conscious and she imagines a cloaked and hooded figure standing behind her with a cutting grin put there by her inner torment. 

Jon Snow is all that matters but he is all she can not have. He is what the gods promise all maidens and what her mother would have wanted for her since he is so gentle and honest and good. But the gods have not listened to her prayers in years and her mother is dead. She can not imagine clearly her face anymore and can not begin to remember if Jon Snow would have been the type of man her mother would have wanted by her daughters side. 

“I do not want to read them” her voice is rough and thick with Stark stubbornness. Sometimes she thinks the direwolf is the real sigil of her blood, but then she is reminded when everyone calls her Lady Tallhart, and whenever her father reminds her. Perhaps wanting to be a Stark so much is just another commonality she and Jon share; another lie they can convince themselves of every time they kiss. Like how they convince themselves they’ll somehow end up as man and wife. 

“It would ease your mind a little if you were to read them, my dear. Some of the young men sound promising, if you were to read them yourself then you could choose more easily” 

“I do not wish to choose any man because I have already chosen someone” there are tears upon her cheeks now that trail from her eyes in the utmost betrayal. Her eyes weep sadness from them as a weirwood weeps its blood red sap, but unlike a weirwood tree the person before her weeping eyes is not bowed in prayer. He is a raging figure of a lord; a shadow of the kind eyed man she used to cry for whenever he rode to battle. She will not weep for this man however; for his eyes are filled with too much rage. 

He stands now, rough and huge hands placing flat on the table as they push himself from his chair. His shadow is large against the stone walls as the candlelight throws it against the grey and white like paint on an artists canvas. His eyes are bright and dangerous and she is suddenly filled with a great desire to stare at them as hard as she can manage, but he is much better at it than she is. 

“I will not have you choose any man without my consent, and especially a man with such low birth as the one I know you are thinking of. You defy me by consorting with him in the godswood night after night to play out whatever fantasies you may still cling onto. You loved him as a child, I saw that I did, and I regret not stopping it sooner. But boys and girls tend to strike up feelings at that age that often temper with maturity. I recall young Robb once declared you his true love at the age of eight, but that changed and I had hoped Jon’s feelings would have too” there is a kindness in his tone at the end that contests with the anger on his face but she does not stop staring at him with discontent. 

“But they haven’t” she tells him, her words wavering and flickering just like the candlelight as it burns around the room. Her fathers shoulders slump then and his grey eyes narrow as they drop to look upon the heavy oak desk that is littered with her marriage proposals. 

“No they haven’t” Lord Tallhart once again looks at his daughter, her ethereal beauty magnified by the light of the room, but the sword at her hip contests with any claim she has to ladylike traits. 

“Bastard or not father, I love him” she is pleading now she knows, something that she detests more than crying in front of people but is yet another thing she is doing as she feels the hot tears leak from her. She wipes them hurriedly from her face but it is of no use, they come as fast as she rids them “I won’t love anyone else” 

“Your mother did not love me, she did not love me for many years in fact. She bore your brother out of duty for our marriage and even after he was born I could tell she only loved me a small measure for making her son. I loved her from the moment I saw her, red hair and a smile men would kill for and a heart just as sweet” he does not look so grim and formidable when he talks about her mother, and it softens her somewhat to hear it “but she did not love me, not until Benfred was four and was taken with a fever and was almost lost to us. I stayed with her by his bedside for almost a fortnight, and after that she loved me something terrible. What I am trying to tell you is that you may not love the man you are married to but you can learn to” 

“I will never learn to love any other man” her words are ice; the very frost that coats the grounds of Winterfell and it is hard and dangerous and everlasting. Winter has come in the shape of her promise, and she knows as she looks at her father, that she can never take it back. 

a/n: this is short and jon isn’t in it yet but he will be! more parts to come! and please send me in requests. at the moment I only write for Jon, Robb or Jaime so send requests for them please!

anonymous asked:

Can you go into a little details how you do wax readings? Please

No problem.

When doing a wax reading it depends on the candle your working with. This also goes hand in hand with candle magic in general so I’m going to skip over the stuff that doesn’t directly relate to the reading of the wax.

When it comes to wax reading it’s not unlike reading tea leaves, I could list all my symbols and what they mean when I see them in the wax, but those are personalized to me and so you’ll have to interpret these symbols yourself and build your own visual library.  

Pillar Candles : I personally use these for spells or offerings and treat the readings as such. I read the drippings, puddles and tokens the candle leaves behind after burning. A common sign is “tears” of wax that hang below the candle holder or that have separated and fallen on their own. Usually indicates, you guessed it, sadness, hurt, a sign that there will be pain or hardships before fruition of the spell. Another common sign is wax that drips onto offerings, usually means the offerings were needed / accepted. Unlike my usual method of wax reading this method is very reliant on the situation. 

Tea Lights / Contained Candles : My preferred method that involves lighting a candle and pouring out some of the collected wax into a dish of water. I usually have one specific for wax reading that has symbols and sigils on the glass in which I light and use multiple times. I’ll light the candle and ask the question, watching the flame for signs or signals, once there is a bit of wax collected I’ll blow out the candle and quickly tip the contents into a dish of water, letting the wax cool before examining the piece for symbols or signs. 

What to do with the wax once done : Heavily dependent on the situation and question at hand, I usually dispose of the pieces whether tossing to the wilds, burying at the cross roads, tossing off a bridge or leaving on a rail road. If I decide not to throw it away I’ll often keep it on me as a charm, or leave it on my altar, even collecting them in a box. I’ve amassed a large collection of ones I’ve kept and I’m tempted to make a new divination candle from them. 

So I hope this answers your question, this is how I do  my readings, there are different ways of doing wax readings but I find these are simple and work best for me. 

Naughty Boy*

Steve Rogers x Reader Fic

Paring: Steve Rogers x Reader  |  Word Count: 2068
Warnings: Fluff, Embarrassed Steve, Smut NSFW (18+)

Song: Nasty Naughty Boy by Christina Aguilera (this is what happens when I spend the day trolling Spotify instead of being productive.)

Summary: Steve’s birthday takes a surprising turn.

“What in the world are we doing here?” Steve asked, cheeks already reddening.

“You only turn a hundred once, Cap,” Natasha snickered, leading Steve toward a table just slightly off center of the stage.

“Yeah, but…” he sighed when Bucky clamped the metal hand on his shoulder and shoved him in a chair.

“You’re such a wuss. It’s not a strip club, so what’s your beef?” Bucky snickered.

“Yeah, Cap. It’s burlesque. You don’t even get to see… the fun bits,” Sam snickered. “Plus, this is a nice place. Classy.”

Keep reading

Hell on Earth: Too Good (Part 2)

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester, Crowley 

Length: 2295+ words

TW: Mentions of Torture, Rape, Child Abuse, Child Soldiers, Etc.

A/N: Nothing, but cute fluff here! 

Catch up on the Hell on Earth Series HERE

Sam walked into the kitchen, laptop in hand. “So get this-“

“Let Garth send someone else,” Dean cut him off, taking a big gulp of his coffee.

“Dean, it sounds like demons.”

The eldest Winchester shrugged.

Sam eyed his brother, and took a seat in front of him. “I know you don’t want to leave Y/N in the bunker, but-“

“We’re not leaving her. End of story, Sam.”

“We can take her with us.”

“No,” Dean said sharply. “This is not up for debate.”

Sam sighed, knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere with his overprotective brother. He had someone else to take care of now, and his instinct to protect was showing more than ever. So, he made his way to Y/N’s room, hoping she could understand his perspective better than his brother did. He walked to the hall, bumping into someone on the way.

“Oh, Y/N! I was just about to see you,” Sam said with a smile.

She looked at his like a deer in the headlights. Eyes wide with fear, and her body shaking. She immediately stumbled a few steps back. “I- I’m sorry! I-I di-didn’t mean to- P-Please don’t hu-hurt me!”

Sam looked confused for a bit, wondering why she was so terrified of him bumping into her when he realized she must have heard the conversation. “It’s okay,” he said softly and calmly. “You’re not in trouble.”

“What’s going on here?” Dean asked, walking past his brother, and leaning down to the girl’s figure. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She shook her head, fleeing it to her room.

“Dammit, Sam. What happened?”

“I think she was listening to our conversation, and thought she would be in trouble when I caught her.”

“Dammit,” Dean cursed, running his hand through his hair. “She’ll never leave her bedroom now.”

“Dean, I’m sure-“

Dean didn’t wait to hear the rest of what his brother had said, he followed Y/N to her room. He knocked on the door a few times before calling out for her, "Y/N? I’m coming in.” He slowly opened the door, not wanting to startle her. The room was empty, but he could hear sniffles from the small closet. “Y/N, I’m gonna open the closet door, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.” He opened the closet door, his heart breaking when he saw her figure stuffed at the corner, making herself as small as possible. “Oh, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.” He went on his knees, opening his arms. “I’m going to get you out, okay? It’s not good for you to stay in here.”

“N-No,” she cried, shaking her head.

“Okay, okay.” Dean quickly retreated back. “I’m going to stay here. You can come out when you’re ready, okay?” He leaned on the slab of wall beside the closet, his hand purposely inside the small room for her to take when she’s ready. After a few minutes of small sniffles, he called her again. “Y/N?”

She didn’t answer, but he felt her warm hands grasp his fingers. Dean smiled, taking her hand in his, and helping her up from the closet.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Y/N nodded, wiping the rest of the tears from her face with her free hand. Dean moved his hand to wrap around her shoulders, leading her to the kitchen once again.

“You still need to eat.” He brought over a plate of food, and placed it in front of her.

“You should go,” she said quietly, putting a small amount of eggs into her mouth.

“What was that?” Dean asked, missing her words.

“That hunt. You should go,” she repeated. “I can stay here.”

Dean sighed. “I don’t want to leave you alone just yet.”

“I will be good. I will stay here. I won’t touch anything. I won’t go anywhere. I will be good.”

Dean’s eyebrows were furrowed. Her speech sounded too perfect, as if she’s been rehearsing the same sentences for years. His face softened when he realized she must’ve rehearsed when she was still with the demon. “I’m not worried about you doing anything bad,” he said slowly, reaching out to grab her hand. “I’m worried if you will be okay by yourself.”

She titled her head, not understanding. “O… Okay?”

“If I leave I’m going to be worried if you’ll be safe, if you’ll eat and drink enough, if you’ll sleep well- things like that.”

“I will be okay.” She squeezed his hand, and smiled.

But, Dean was sure she wasn’t going to be okay. So later when she retreated back to her room, he approached Sam.

“I’m not going to leave her alone,” Dean said. “Call Garth, tell him to call someone to go with you.”


“End of discussion.”

“What are you afraid of? The bunker is the safest place in the world!” Sam exclaimed, exasperated at his brother’s stubbornness.

“What am I afraid of? This girl has gone through hell, and was raised to be invisible. The first night here, we had to convince her to eat because she was never allowed to eat. Do you think she’ll eat if we’re gone?”

“We can bring her with us.”

Dean scoffed. “And risk her getting kidnapped by demons again? They’re going to take her for leverage once they see us with her, and I am not taking that risk.”

“Look, I care about her too, but we can’t just ignore our job out there!”

“OUR job, Sam?! Our job is never going to end. You think if we kill those demons, we’ll be done?”

“What about those innocent people-”

“What about Y/N?”

“I’m just saying, Dean-” Sam cut himself off when he saw her by the door, eyes wide with fear.

Dean must have noticed his brother’s attention diverted somewhere else. “Y/N, go back to your room. You don’t need to hear this.”

“I think she can speak for herself,” Sam argued.

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Please, just go,” she begged. “I will be good, I promise.”

Dean turned to face her, his eyes and posture were non-threatening. “Sweetheart-”

“Please, Dean?” She was pleading with him to go. She hated the fact that she was putting a wedge between the brothers. “I will be good. I’ll eat, and sleep.”


She nodded. “I promise.”

“Fine, but I’m calling you everyday.” He turned to face Sam. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Sam nodded, knowing now was not the time to argue with his brother any longer. The eldest Winchester left the room, leaving her with the hazel eyed man. He gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Y/N. I really do care about you.”

“I understand,” she mumbled, keeping her head down. 

“We’ll be back before Thankgiving. I promise.” He ruffled her hair, smiling down at her, and she knew he was sincere about his intentions. 

She nodded, offering him a smile before leaving his room so he could pack.

The boys said their goodbyes, and she waved them off, sighing a breath of relief once the door slammed closed.

You know what you have to do now. 

The voice told her, and she nodded mindlessly. She went to her room, grabbing her backpack, throwing in a few clothes- not wanting to take too much, and left the bunker. She knew she was holding back the brother by staying with them, so she ran. There was no way she could say with them. They were going to grow to hate her, and hurt her- like everyone else.


That night when Dean called you, you were on a deserted park. He told you they had arrived at their destination, and you told him that you were just reading some books from the library. Your heart stuttered when he asked you what you ate, and you remembered the bread in the pantry, so you told him you made a sandwich. He seemed satisfied with the answer, and left you alone. You slept for a few hours in the park, and left before dusk. You had no destination in mind. You were just walking aimlessly around. Dean called in the morning, but you ignored him, picking up only near noon when you made an excuse that you overslept. He again asked what you were going to eat, and you told him you were going to finish the other half of the sandwich.

“Y/N, dear,” a voice interrupted your train of thought.

Your skin crawled, but you relaxed when you turned to see who it was. “Crowley!”

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “Why are you not at the bunker?”

“I ran away,” you answered quietly, looking at the ground.

“Why?” He walked over so he could lift your chin with his finger. “What did those boys do?!”

“N-Nothing!” you answered quickly. “Please don’t be mad at them!”

“Why the hell didn’t they stop you from leaving?”

“They don’t know… They’re on a case.”

“So they left you alone?!”

“Dean calls me everyday, and Sam texts me to keep me company.” You pointed to your phone.

Crowley sighed, knowing that it probably wasn’t an easy decision for Dean to have left you alone. “C’mon, you’re staying with me. Squirrel and Moose will have a heart attack once they realize that you’re not in the bunker.”

“I shouldn’t.” You shook your head, biting on your bottom lip. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not. Now c’mon.” With a snap of his finger, you were underground. You took in your new surroundings, seeing the bricked walls, with candles hanging from them, and you whimpered in fear. “What’s wrong?”

“This is where they tortured me.”

“Nothing is going to hurt you anymore. Look at me,” he instructed softly.

Your eyes met his, and he smiled.

“I promise you, nothing will hurt you anymore. Not while I’m around, okay?”

You nodded, trailing behind him as he led you to a room. It was quite dark, but had a sense of home.

“You can stay here. If you need anything, you let me know, okay?”

So, you stayed there for a week, telling Dean that you were safe, and you were eating well. It wasn’t a complete lie, but not completely true either. Crowley would come, and spend some time with you, bringing different kinds of board games. He downloaded a few games on your phone as well, teaching you how to use it. He was surprised that the boys never taught you, but was happy that he could be the one to help you. Soon, these walls didn’t remind you of torture anymore. They reminded you of Crowley, and the different games he brought to you, not to mention, the food he brought. Unlike Dean, he never pushed you to eat more than you wanted to, or the voices wanted you to.

It’s been a week after you left when you got a phone call from Dean.

“Y/N, where the hell are you?!” he asked impatiently.

“I-In the bunker,” you replied.

“Bullshit. We’re here right now. I’ve ransacked the place, and you’re not here. So, I’m going to ask again, where are you?”

“With Crowley,” you replied in a small voice. 

There was a few heartbeat of silence before he spoke again. “Tell him to get his ass over here. Now.” 

Crowley put a hand on your shoulder. You blinked, and you were in the bunker again.

Dean was pacing in front of the couch where Sam was sitting, his fingers running through his hair.

“Oh don’t get your panties in a twist, Squirrel,” Crowley said with a hint of amusement, rolling his eyes. “Little bird is safe.”

You were hiding behind Crowley, hoping that Dean won’t be too mad at you. Dean took a step forward, but Crowley stopped him.

“You’re scaring her.”

Dean peered over Crowley’s figure, trying to get you to notice him. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, opening his arms. “I’m not mad at you, Y/N. I just need to know you’re safe.”

You approached him hesitantly, standing in front of him, but not meeting his eyes. His fingers fluttered across your arms, as if to make sure you were physically there. He bent down, trying to meet your eyes.

“I’m not mad at you,” he repeated, offering you a smile. You smiled back, and he straightened his posture, acknowledging Crowley again. “Why the hell did you take her out of the bunker?”

“I didn’t.” Crowley shrugged.

Your eyes widened in fear, you shook your head, begging him not to tell Dean.

“I’m sorry, little bird, but they have the right to know.”

“The hell is going on?” Dean demanded.

“Little bird ran away from the bunker.”

“What? Why?”

Crowley looked at you expectantly, seeing as he never forced the answer out of you.

“I didn’t wanna bother you guys anymore,” you answered quietly. “So I left.”

“And, I found her wandering around the city.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt, Y/N,” Sam said in a disappointed tone.

“Speak for yourself- I would never let her get hurt,” Crowley hissed. “I took her back to hell.” He paused. “Well that didn’t sound as nice as it did in my head.”

Your face brightened, and you nodded. “Crowley played games with me! He taught me how to play!”

“I’m glad you had fun, love, but you have to stay here now.” Crowley patted your head. “You’re safer here now.”

Your face fell, and you frowned.

“I promise I’ll visit.” He kissed the top of your head, and snapped, leaving you with the boys.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, lowering your head once more.

“You really scared us,” Sam lectured, kneeling down in front of you so he could look into your eyes. “And you’re not being a burden by staying with us. You don’t have to leave for that reason.”

“Sweetheart, we just want you to be safe, and we can’t keep you safe unless we know where you are,” Dean added. 

“I understand.” You nodded your head in compliance.

(Part 3) 

Tags (OPEN):

@annabethgranger123 @fanboyswhereare-you @straightasdeanwinchester @itsrainbowunicornstuff @zidajane777 @savygabby @owllover132 @nothingiswrongwithit @lemonadegazeelle @percussiongirl2017 @coralturtlenut

Protective Paper Charm


  • candle
  • piece of paper
  • string
  • hole puncher
  • pen/marker
  1. light candle 
  2. decorate the paper however you’d like, adding symbols or sigils that represent protection
  3. punch hole into paper
  4. thread string through the hole and tie
  5. gaze into the lit candle and meditate on this charm providing protection from negative energies and harm for you and your home
  6. when finished, snuff out the candle and hang the charm in your home, preferably above a doorway
adult!Remus Lupin Imagine - Stop Thinking

“Can I ask for a fic request? Lupin x reader… but it’s POA era so Lupin is a professor and the reader is a 7th year. They both dance around the fact that they’re clearly attracted to each other and he’s desperately trying to be the responsible teacher but eventually they succumb to their attraction…? :D x” - @nervetonic

“Hey so requests are open? Could you please do something with adult Remus Lupin x reader? There’s so many young Remus stuff, which I love, but I could barely find adult remus stuff. Thank you so much! :3″ - Anon

So it sure has been a long time since I’ve posted anything lololol. I am going to put a slight warning on this one - I didn’t write a student/teacher relationship, but I did make the reader considerably younger than Remus. Also I’m going to have a language warning because I definitely threw in a couple of “fuck”s. As always I proofread a bunch so if there are any errors please forgive me! To the anon whose request I combined into the original one I received, if you’re not happy with this please feel free to send in another request when I open them back up; Remus is my fave and I would be happy to write more imagines for him!

Word Count: 4,000+


The Great Hall overflowed with excited students, each trying to talk over the others as they welcomed the new members of their houses and reconnected with their friends. The sorting had just finished and Dumbledore was preparing to stand and give his traditional start of term speech.

(Y/n) glanced around Hagrid, who was seated next to her, down the long table that seated all of the Hogwarts’ professors. Her eyes connected with Professor McGonagall, who nodded slightly, offering (y/n) a small encouraging smile. (Y/n) smiled back, before continuing to peer down the table; she quickly skimmed past Snape, avoiding eye contact, before landing on a new professor she didn’t recognize.

His face was adorned with a few small slashes that had faded into the premature wrinkles around his eyes. The flecks of grey in his hair shone in the light from the thousands of candles hanging above them. He smiled slightly at something Professor Flitwick said and (y/n) couldn’t help but admit that he was handsome. She continued to stare at his profile only slightly paying attention to the other professors chatting around her.

(Y/n)’s reverie was broken by Dumbledore standing and beginning his welcome speech. She flushed when she realized how openly she had been staring at the new professor and tried to focus on Dumbledore’s words.

“This year we are happy to welcome a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Remus Lupin,” Dumbledore said, gesturing toward the man (y/n) had just been admiring as he stood and nodded his head at the students who were giving some half-hearted applause at the announcement. “We are also happy to announce that our own groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, will be taking over as the Care of Magical Creatures professor.” The Gryffindor table erupted into applause, supported weakly by the other houses, when Hagrid stood, looking a bit sheepish. “I would also like to welcome a recent Hogwarts graduate, Ms. (y/n) (y/l/n), who will be working with Hagrid in both his teaching and maintenance endeavors.” You gave a small nod and wave to your former house, who had given a few small cheers in response Dumbledore’s announcement.

Dumbledore gave a few short announcements, half-jokingly warned the first years about the Forbidden Forest, and finally concluded with a wave of his hand. The feast began and (y/n) took up a conversation with Hagrid and Professor Sprout, discussing new treatments for this year’s pumpkin harvest. Despite being engrossed in her conversation, (y/n) found herself glancing over at the new professor, Professor Lupin she had just learned, every few minutes.


The first few weeks of the school year were a whirlwind for Remus. Classes had been going well, the students seemed to be enjoying them and seeing Harry for the first time in so many years had been both gut-wrenching and heartwarming. Remus was currently working on his lesson plans for the next couple of weeks, and considering how successful he had been, he thought it best to send for a few magical creatures to give the students more hands on practice.

Remus considered placing his own order, but thought it would be more efficient to tack it onto whatever Hagrid was probably getting for his own class. He began the trek down to Hagrid’s hut as the sun was setting and upon arriving he was not greeted by Hagrid, but by a girl skillfully ushering a hoard of nifflers into a pen set up next to Hagrid’s garden. She was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun and Remus found himself staring at her as she shooed the last one through the gate and locked it with a tap of her wand. She turned to Remus and stopped short, jumping a little, obviously surprised by his presence.

“Sorry to scare you,” Remus said, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed at the way he had been watching her. He cleared his throat, shaking off the feeling. “Ms. (y/l/n), correct?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” (y/n) broke her silence. They both paused for a moment before (y/n) spoke up again, “did you need something?” Her eyes grew a little and she quickly backtracked. “I’m so sorry, that didn’t come out right. I just-”

“It’s alright,” Remus chuckled, “I know what you meant. I was actually looking for Hagrid, is he around?”

“No, he headed into Hogsmeade for the evening,” (y/n) paused, still looking a little disoriented, “sorry about that, but if it’s not too complicated I might be able to help.”

Remus chuckled, “I was actually thinking of ordering a grindylow to use during lessons, is Hagrid putting in an order soon?”

“Yeah, we were going to send the order in tomorrow, so we can add that to the list,” (y/n) signaled for Remus to follow her into Hagrid’s hut. “I would have loved having real lessons with actual magical creatures last year,” (y/n) said while searching for the order sheet amongst the stacks of paper spread across Hagrid’s table. “We only had one lesson that was hands on, and it was with Cornish Pixies, so I’m sure you can imagine how that ended.”

Remus and (y/n) laughed together, “I’ve heard a few stories of Professor Lockhart,” Remus said, a small smile still spread across his face.

“You’re lucky you never had to meet him,” (y/n) mumbled, still sifting through the mountain of papers.

“Actually, we were at Hogwarts at the same time, I was a bit older but I heard quite a few stories of his… escapades?” Remus and (y/n) laughed again, but he could see that something had flashed in her eyes. She stiffened slightly and looked back down at the table.

“Here it is,” (y/n) said holding up the order, she cleared a small part of the table and retrieved a quill preparing to add ‘grindylow’ to the list. “Just the one?” she asked, glancing back up at Remus.

“I think that should be fine, do you agree? You are the expert on magical creatures here,” he said, coaxing a smile out of (y/n).

“Hardly,” she said, “that’s why I’m working with Hagrid, there’s always more to learn.”

The pair paused, looking at each other, Remus still couldn’t decipher what was going on in her mind.

“I think just the one should be fine,” (y/n) said breaking the silence that was quickly becoming awkward and jotting it down at the bottom of the list.

Remus and (y/n) walked out of Hagrid’s hut in silence, pausing at the bottom of the stairs that led to Hagrid’s door. Remus couldn’t help but compare the moment to the end of a first date. He quickly forced the thought away, and cleared his throat before thanking (y/n).

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” (y/n) said, smiling before looking back down at the ground, “it’s getting dark so uh-”

“I should probably get back up to the castle before it’s too dark to see,” Remus said, trying to smile or laugh, anything to remove the tension from the moment. “I’m sure I’ll see you around the grounds,” he said starting to walk away, “or whenever I have any questions for the magical creature expert.”

“You should probably make sure Hagrid is here then,” (y/n) said smirking and offering a small wave. She turned and headed toward her small hut that had been built next to Hagrid’s.

Remus walked the entire way back up to the castle with a smile that he couldn’t quite shake off. She’s practically a student, he told himself, you’re almost double her age. Remus paused a few steps away from the entrance to his office. There’s nothing wrong with being her friend, she works at Hogwarts, and you’re bound to run into her. Remus finally entered his office, taking off his cloak and preparing for bed, the entire time repeating loose justifications for spending time with (y/n) to himself.


(Y/n) quickly entered her hut, shutting and bolting the door before leaning her back against it. She slid down onto the floor and pressed her palms to her burning cheeks. Holy shit (y/n) get a grip. He’s a professor. (Y/n) dropped her hands from her face and pulled her knees to her chest, but you work here now. “That doesn’t change anything” she whispered aloud, slowly getting up and changing into a huge tshirt and athletic shorts before sitting down on the edge of her bed.

(Y/n) flopped backwards and crossed her arms over her face. She replayed the evening in her mind. She had felt his equal through their conversation, and then he had mentioned attending Hogwarts with Lockhart and (y/n) had realized just how unequal they were. He was a professor, and she was still practically a student. But the way he looked at me- (y/n) cut off her own thought, you can’t think like that, he was just being friendly.

Removing her arms from her face, (y/n) slipped under the covers and struggled to fall asleep and her mind raced with justifications for talking to Remus again.


Over the next couple of weeks Remus started to seek out little conversations with (y/n) whenever he got the chance. Remus would “forget” little facts about magical creatures, and asking (y/n) for the answer was easier than looking it up in some old book, right? He pretended not to thrive off the way her eyes lit up when as she answered his questions, or the way her lips would curl into a smirk whenever they joked with each other.

Remus was making his way across the grounds one afternoon when he saw (y/n) coming toward him looking solemn. Completely absorbed in her own thoughts, she didn’t even see Remus coming.

“(Y/n)?” Remus called, causing to her look at him with wide eyes, reminding Remus of their first official meeting. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Yeah- well, no. No it’s really not.” Remus could see the tears welling up in her eyes. (Y/n) turned her face and blinked hard, fighting them back. She turned back to him, obviously still fighting her emotions, “I have to get up to the castle, excuse me.”

Remus stood and watched her leave, then turned to continue down to Hagrid’s. When he was about halfway there he remembered that (y/n) was the reason he was heading there anyway. I don’t even have a question for her, I just wanted to see her. Remus had to sit on a nearby rock to recover from the shock of his realization. After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he rose slowly and headed back toward the castle with every intention of retrieving his bottle of firewhiskey, sitting in his office, and forgetting that this had even happened.

Sitting in his office an hour later, vision blurring at the edges thanks to bottle sitting in front of him, he still couldn’t stop thinking about (y/n).

The image of her with tears in her eyes stirred up a whirlwind of emotion in Remus. In that moment he had longed to draw her into his arms and let her cry. At the same time, he admired how she had handled herself, holding her head high despite her obvious distress.

She’s strong, intelligent, funny, beautiful. Merlin, she’s so pretty. The way she always tucks her hair behind her ears when she starts to talk about her work, or the way she smiles when she sees me coming across the grounds, or the way-



(Y/n) sat outside the doors of the hospital wing, trying to reign her emotions before going in. She couldn’t cry once she got inside, this was her job, for Merlin’s sake.

Draco had been “attacked” by Buckbeak earlier that day and Hagrid had sent her to check on his progress. (Y/n) wasn’t crying for Draco, her tears were for Hagrid. He had worked so hard to make his lessons exciting and informational, and then Draco had waltzed in and it had all come crashing down. She could see the defeat in Hagrid’s face, he was convinced he would be fired the second Lucius got word that his son was in the hospital wing.

She drew in a single deep breath before rising and pushing the doors open. Her discussion with Madame Pomfrey was short and to the point. As soon as it was over (y/n) rushed back down to Hagrid’s hut so that she could update him.

Once (y/n) finished telling Hagrid that Draco would ultimately be fine, his injuries were all superficial and easily healed, she headed to her hut once again sat against her door trying to gather her thoughts. She found her mind wandering to when she had run into Remus earlier that evening.

He was headed down to Hagrid’s- or maybe to see me? I’ve never seen him actually talk to Hagrid he always comes to spend time with me and ask me questions. Why would he-



Over the next few of days (y/n) didn’t see Remus at all; the first couple of days weren’t a surprise, there had been a full moon which would have left Remus bedridden. She had figured it out the month before that Remus was a werewolf, and while she been angry at first, she came to realize that it didn’t change him. He was still the man with the kind and gentle smile who visited her and made her laugh whenever he could. The days following the moon were a mystery to (y/n) though, he still hadn’t come to see her and she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

While she was preparing the flobberworms for Hagrid’s, now tamer, class her mind kept wandering back to him. He can’t be mad because I brushed him off when I was crying, right? That’s ridiculous, he’s my… friend? Is that even the right word for what we are? ‘Co-workers’ who spend a lot of time together and are attracted to each other? Or at least, I’m attracted to him, and I don’t think he’s attracted to me… but he has been acting weird.

(Y/n) stood up straight so that she could shake out her shoulders, she just needed to talk to him. She wanted to get back to how they had been before. Whether or not (y/n) was attracted to him was beside the point, that was never going to happen so she might as well be his friend.

Christmas was fast approaching and (y/n) planned to talk to seek out Remus, something she had never needed to do before, so that she could get weird friendship back on track. They were both staying over the break and it would be much easier to talk to him when there weren’t a lot of students milling around and they both didn’t have much work to do.


Remus, on the other hand, was hell bent on avoiding (y/n) for as long as he could. The first few days after his realization had been easy because there was a full moon and he needed time to recover, but after that it would steadily grow more difficult. He knew that he should at least tell (y/n) that he had no interest in being her friend, a bold-faced lie, but better than just never talking to her again. However, he also knew that he would never be able to get the words out once he saw her.

Christmas break was starting and Remus wrongfully assumed that (y/n) was going home to see her family. On Christmas Eve he sat at his desk grading the last batch of essays from the sixth years when he heard a soft knock on his already open office door.

He glanced up to see (y/n) standing in his doorway looking sheepish.

“Hi,” she said quietly, offering a small smile. “Do you mind if I…” she trailed off looking at the chair in front of his desk.

After recovering from his mild shock, Remus nodded. “Ye-yes, please sit down. Did you need something?” he asked and without missing a beat continued, “I’m so sorry, that came out wrong-”

“I know what you meant,” (y/n) said trying not to smile, remembering the way they had first met. Remus ducked his head, chuckling slightly. “I just wanted to drop by and say hello… you stopped coming around,” (y/n) paused, knotting her hands together, “I guess you didn’t need my expert advice anymore.”

The pair both gave each other strained smiles. Remus took a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. He stood, moved across his office, closed the door, and then returned to his seat across from (y/n). Forcing himself to make eye contact with her, he felt a pang of guilt when he saw how confused and… hurt maybe? he wondered to himself.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been to see you, but… I’m not sure that it’s entirely appropriate for us to see each other as much as we were.”

“I don’t understand,” (y/n) said, having trouble keeping her voice from wavering. “It’s not appropriate for us to talk to each other about our jobs?”


“No, it’s fine. If you don’t want to talk to me anymore that’s fine. It’s fine. It’s really, really, fine.” Remus could see that (y/n) was forcing back tears, and he knew that he had let this go on too long, but there was no turning back now.

(Y/n) took in a shaky breath and stood quickly forcing her chair back; the screeching sound it made cut through the heavy silence hanging in the air. She turned to the door, but before she could go anywhere Remus stood and caught her arm from across the desk.

“Of course I want to talk to you,” he said, his voice dipping, causing goosebumps to erupt across (y/n)’s arms. He dropped her arm so that he could walk around his desk and stand in front of her. (Y/n) stayed silent, staring at Remus and searching his eyes for the meaning behind his words.

Remus lifted his hand and with a lot of hesitation, rested his palm against (y/n)’s cheek. She flinched slightly at his touch, but allowed him to keep his hand there.

“What are you doing?” (y/n) whispered breathlessly.

“I’m not sure,” Remus replied before tilting his head closer to hers. He could feel his heart pounding as he watched (y/n)’s eyes flickered shut. Remus closed his too and rested his forehead against hers. (Y/n) fisted her hand into the front of his shirt, keeping the other balled at her side.

(Y/n) lifted her chin, brushing her lips softly against Remus’. “This is mad,” she whispered.

“Never been the best at making decisions,” Remus said, out of breath just from his proximity to (y/n).

“Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Remus’ stomach jumped against (y/n)’s hand as he held back a little laugh at her boldness. Pulling in a shaky breath, he pressed his lips gently to hers, then more forcefully. (Y/n) responded with enthusiasm, letting out a soft moan when Remus slid his hand back into her hair. Remus growled at the sound and snaked his other arm around her waist to pull her flush to him. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, standing up on her toes to push impossibly close to him. Remus opened his mouth, sliding his tongue across her bottom lip, when (y/n) opened her mouth in response, Remus’ eyes flew open suddenly realizing exactly what was happening.

He pulled his mouth way from her and pushed her away from him by the hips, ensuring that she was at least an arm’s length away. Remus turned away from her and ran a hand down his face, letting out a shaky breath.


(Y/n) stood where Remus had pushed her breathing heavily. She stared at his tense shoulders, trying to think of something to say. She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, he had been in control of the entire situation. (Y/n) stayed quiet, waiting for him to say something, anything.

When Remus finally turned around, breathing under control, (y/n) could see the regret painted across his face. Before he could speak (y/n) spoke.


“Don’t wha-”

“You don’t have to explain to me why that was a mistake, or why we shouldn’t talk about it, or see each other, or whatever you were going to say. I don’t want to hear it. If that’s what you really want, fine, but-” (y/n) paused, gathering herself, “but I’m an adult and I can take care of myself.”

They stood staring at each other while (y/n) waited for Remus to say something. When he didn’t she looked away from him, toward to door.

“Cool, okay… yeah, no this is fine.”

“(Y/n),” Remus said, but didn’t continue.

(Y/n) took a deep breath, “I’m going to go back down to my hut. I’m going to make some hot chocolate and pretend like this never happened. It’s not exactly going to be easy, but what’s a girl supposed to do,” she finished chuckling to cover the hurt that laced her voice.

Later that night (y/n) sat in a big armchair that resided in the corner of her hut, reading one of her favorite books and trying to keep her mind off Remus. She wasn’t actually succeeding though, she kept replaying their kiss in her head. It was more than just a kiss, we were making out, like full on-

(Y/n)’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door. She rose slowly, expecting Hagrid with some sort of task for her that he didn’t want to handle himself. (Y/n) opened the door while saying, “hi Hagri-”

(Y/n) stopped short at the sight of Remus standing in her doorway.

“Not Hagrid.”

“Yeah, I got that,” (y/n) said quietly. “Do you want to…” she trailed off motioning into the single room of her hut, “it’s freezing outside.”

“Thank you,” Remus said stepping inside. They both stood awkwardly, not really looking at each other. Finally, Remus spoke, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Kissing me or regretting it right after?” (y/n) asked, anger bubbling to the surface.

“Both?” Remus hesitated, “it would have made it a lot easier to work here, with you, had I not.”

“But you did,” (y/n) said forcing her anger down and keeping her tone neutral.

Remus’ shoulders sagged, “I did, and- and I’m glad I did, because I’ve wanted to for longer than I’d care to admit, but… but this isn’t exactly a normal situation. There’s more to this than just-”

“Is this about you being older than me or you being a werewolf?” (y/n) asked without skipping a beat and looking, for the most part, calm.

Remus stared at her, lips drawn into a tight line and jaw clenched.

“I’ve known since last month, you’re not the subtlest when it comes to-”

“I think I should go,” Remus cut (y/n) off. He turned toward the door, prepared to leave and, as far as (y/n) knew, not return.

“I don’t care.”

Remus stopped in his tracks, whipping his head around to give her a stern look. “You should.”

“Well I don’t,” (y/n) paused, gauging Remus’ reaction. When he turned back around to face her, she continued, “I don’t care that you’re a werewolf, because you’re still you. And I don’t what people would think of us. That shouldn’t matter.”

“(Y/n), I just think-”

“So then stop thinking.”


Remus let out a sigh, staring at the fierce girl in front of him. She wasn’t backing down, wasn’t making this any easier for him. He hadn’t been sure what he was going to say to her or what direction this conversation was going to go in, but he didn’t expect her to blurt out that she knew he was a werewolf. He sure as hell didn’t expect her to be okay with it.

“You’re still thinking,” (y/n) said when Remus didn’t respond.


“Okay, what?”

“I’m done thinking,” Remus said stepping toward her and resting his hand on her face in the same place it had been only a couple of hours earlier.

“Good,” (y/n) whispered, fisting her hands in his shirt and pushing up on her toes, “that makes two of us.”


just-french-me-up  asked:

Jehanparnasse Hogwarts dating headcanons? :3

- They’ve both known where the Room of Requirement is for a long time for their own reasons, but neither of them bothered to share that information with the other until Parnasse tried to be all cool and suggest they go somewhere special to be alone. He thought he was gonna be all smart and show Jehan a part of the castle they had never seen before. And then they got there, and Jehan knew exactly how to open the Room, and Parnasse was a little bitter about it.

- That said, they make very good use to the Room. Specifically a version of the Room that contains a very plush bed, all velvet and satin red and cream, magic candles that hang in the air and lights on the ceiling that move to form constellations as the seasons pass. It’s cozy and dark and always feels like comfort.

- They actually kept their relationship secret for a while. The only reason anyone found them was that Enjolras and Courfeyrac were trying to open the Room to set up for that night’s meeting and one of them made the mistake of confusing the Room by wondering where Jehan was. Instead of opening to their meeting room, it showed their love nest, complete with a snoozing Jehan under the covers and a startled, defensive Parnasse.

- Parnasse gets really, really good at bluffing his way past the Eagle on the Ravenclaw door. And the Eagle knows he’s not supposed to be in there, but his answers sound so well-thought-out and unexpected that it can’t help but let him in. This proves especially useful when Jehan has been out late and is either exhausted or tipsy and refuses the go bed anywhere but their dorm.

- They really met because Jehan was tutoring Parnasse, and they kept doing so because Parnasse really needed the help in a couple things. He used to hate Divination, but he keeps taking it and kind of enjoying it because he can pair up with Jehan for class. Professor Trelawney never questions it, though the rest of the class has.

- The first night Parnasse spent the whole night in the Ravenclaw dorm, wow, the next morning was fun. As in getting out of the dorm was fun. Thank god Combeferre is a Prefect otherwise they never would have managed it. Most of the school still didn’t know, and they weren’t sure if they ever wanted people to know. Parnasse left a while ahead of Jehan so they didn’t look like they were coming from the same place, and by the time they got to the Great Hall, half of Slytherin was bugging Parnasse for the details of his night. They all thought he was with some girl, and Jehan just… can’t. Deal with that. They can hear the Slytherin table getting louder and more specific in their questions, and Jehan. Stands up from their little multi-House spot on the end of the Hufflepuff table and storms over to invite Parnasse over to join them. He gets up to follow them to the surprise of everyone else in his House, and they pull him into a kiss between the two tables.

- They would rather have everyone know and deal with the fallout than keep telling lies and backing themselves into corners.

- Of course, anyone who might possibly do anything to Jehan over their relationship would also have to deal with Montparnasse, and that’s not the kind of thing most people are willing to do just to tease a little flowery Ravenclaw.

- Parnasse knows all the secret tunnels out of Hogwarts and sneaks off to bring Jehan sweets or fresh butterbeer or whatever they happen to want in the moment.

- Jehan figured out a spell for animated notes specifically to send little paper doves or hummingbirds or cats or whatever they figure out how to make to Parnasse with little scraps of poetry or love notes or whatever happens to be on their mind. Three teachers have banned the notes from their classrooms, one only the ones that can fly because they don’t always go to Parnasse first. Flitwick thinks they’re wonderful.

- Parnasse is a Chaser on the Slytherin team, and Jehan definitely threatened to break Bahorel’s nose after he knocked Parnasse off his broom with a bludger. Parnasse broke his arm, Jehan was distraught, neither of them left the infirmary for a week.

- Their House colors are too similar a color scheme, they get ties mixed up sometimes. And they trade scarves because they smell like each other, and it’s nice.

- Parnasse fully supports Jehan wearing skirts under their robes from time to time, when they weather’s right or they just want to. Partly because it makes them happy; partly because those skirts are usually accompanied by thigh-high socks, and Parnasse is a weak man.

Reflektor (5/).

Prompt: HYDRA is back in its quest to replicate the Winter Soldier success but this time, they know where not to fail and what do to create the perfect soldier. The Avengers and Nick Fury have just one option left if they want to bring HYDRA down once for all, but what would happen when Fury breaks his promise to protect their only option?

Word Count: 869.

Warnings: Nope? 

A/N: Thank you you for continuing reading this guys, it’s building up slowly but we’ll get there.

Previous Part - Next Part.

Originally posted by st0rmclouds

The car ride was silent, even their breathings were soft as if any deep intake would drown them. Allen still got the comms in his hand, the right one searched for hers in the dim light of the limo. A soft grasp that lasted until the automobile pulled over, not a single glance was spared to the blonde before she moved out and into the cold night.

“You know, you do not need to do this D.”

For the first time she looked at him, he noticed the fear in her orbs and the subtle shiver that ran through her pale skin. She took his fag and inhale the smoke, something she would always do to calm down, before tossing it to the ground and moving to the entrance.

“I’m sorry but the gala has already started. The doors are closed.”

“Not for me” A dark laugh erupted from the bodyguard’s chest.

“Well, tell whoever is in charge that Danielle Turner is here.”

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The Secret Project (Newt Imagine)

Hello!! So this is an imagine I worked on a bit ago… In this story, the reader is an Herbology transfer student from Ilvermorny. Hope you enjoy! :)

“So, Broomsticks?” Newt smiled down at you through his messy amber curls. His yellow and black tie hung loose around the collar of his shirt, his robe slung over his shoulder, adding to the already heart bursting effect his beautiful crooked smile smote your weak schoolgirl heart with.

“Ye-“ you began, then quickly stopped yourself. “Ah- no.. I can’t.”

Newt chuckled lightly shaking his head, “Still working on that top secret project?”

You smiled up at him innocently. You had been working on it for weeks and it was almost perfect- in fact, today was probably it’s due for premier, and well… it just had to be perfect.

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A Wondrous Adventure (4/4)

The wedding I wanted for them. Thanks @ripplestitchskein for beta reading!

For a moment Emma couldn’t speak. The teasing look had gone from Killian’s expression, leaving only the open question, the shining adoration in his eyes.  

“I know the future can hold many dangers,” he said. “But I promise you, no matter what it brings, I will be at your side for as long as you wish.”

Emma breathed out. “I…. wow.” She looked down for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts, to put together a coherent sentence, and had to settle for, “Yes. Yes, I will.” She couldn’t stop smiling. Snowflakes were melting in her hair and his as she held out her hand. She hadn’t even looked at the ring, having eyes only for him at first, but she glanced down as he slipped it on. Its simple, graceful shape reminded her of her mother’s. Two small diamonds flanked a single ruby, and the band had been carved with fantastic delicacy to resemble a flowering vine.

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anonymous asked:

Can you make a idea list for Khione, Hemera and Asteria? Ik theyre not major gods but ive found myself devoted to them with ZERO resources hahaha

- Photos of the Balkan Mountains (Where Khione was said to dwell)
- Snowglobes
- Mountain water
- Homemade Snow (x)
- White glitter
- String paper snowflakes
- Candles (White, glittered)

- Blue veil/ Fabric
- Favorite pictures of the daytime sky
- Day or sky bottles (x x)
- Bronze
- Morning Glories
- Robins
- Candles (white, blue. grey, orange, yellow)

- Quails
- Meteorite
- Photos of Delos
- Dream journal
- Dream interpretation book
- Night/ Star bottles (x)
- Glow in the dark stars
- Astrology Wheel
- Hanging stars (x)
- Candles (White, Black, Purple, Silver, Dark blue)

Altar Ideas
Amphitrite - Aphrodite - Apollo - Ares - Artemis - Asteria - Athena - Demeter - Dionysus - Hades - Hebe - Hekate - Hemera - Hephaestus - Hera - Hermes - Hestia - Khione - Persephone - Poseidon - Selene - Zeus