hopefully i did okay

anonymous asked:

Viktuuri dancing together in their socks in the kitchen?

Victor wakes to find the other side of the bed empty, half-warm. He doesn’t want to be alone, wants to be wrapped in his husband’s arms. Without much thought, he throws aside the covers, hissing as he is momentarily literally and metaphorically frozen. 

Yuuri would tease him, Victor thinks as he grabs a pair of sweatpants. Tease him for being unable to cope with being cold, with being away from him, with waking up just to hear Yuuri mumble in his sleep as he pulls him closer and finding that he isn’t in bed. 

Victor misses his teasing. Victor will gladly be teased if it means Yuuri is beside him. 

He stumbles out of their bedroom, instinctively walking to the kitchen. He is aware that Yuuri is there before he actually sees him, though when he does, he can’t process anything beyond how beautiful his husband looks, staring absentmindedly out the window with a cup of tea in his hands. He stares at his husband until his husband stares back at him; then, Victor grins. 

“Yuuri~~, why weren’t you in bed?” Victor tries to stroll over casually, though he knows it looked much less composed, like he hadn’t seen Yuuri in months. 

Yuuri sets his cup down carefully and opens his arms to Victor. His hands run up and down Victor’s back as he returns the embrace. Victor enjoys most things with his husband, but he never gets tired of hugs like these, where they both cling to each other with a sense of peaceful desperation. The kinds of hugs that make him overwhelmingly aware of how much he loves Yuuri, how lucky he is to be by his side. 

Yuuri clears his throat. “I wasn’t sleeping well. Had a bad dream.” 

Victor frowns, one hand travelling up to play with his hair. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Yuuri shakes his head gently, so Victor lets them fall into silence. He can still feel the shift in mood, the way he is now holding Yuuri, comforting him, rather than the reverse. His hand is cradling Yuuri’s head, and he begins to sway his husband gently. 

Yuuri laughs, though it comes out wrong, like he’s trying not to cry. “Are you trying to dance with me?”

“Swaying and dancing aren’t the same, my love, and I don’t trust you to dance and not hurt yourself in those socks.” 

Yuuri huffs and pulls away just enough to face Victor. He tries not to grin as his husband pouts up at him. “I wouldn’t hurt myself. You just don’t want me to dance better than you.” 

Victor kisses Yuuri’s forehead, then brings his lips close to his husband’s. “You can’t dance better than me.” 

Yuuri smirks, and Victor knows he’s done for. Yuuri pulls Victor closer. “And yet, I was the one who made you fall in love with me when I danced drunk. I would destroy you if I danced sober.” 

Victor’s near destruction because of Yuuri’s confidence alone, and who is he to deny the truth. They continue to sway slowly as Victor closes the distance between their lips, kissing Yuuri like he’s wanted to ever since he woke up alone, kissing Yuuri like it’s their first and last kiss. 

They continue kissing and swaying until Yuuri is sleepy again, and Victor leads him back to bed with a loving grin, his hand in Yuuri’s as they walk down the hall. They curl up against each other under the covers, Yuuri kissing Victor’s forehead and murmuring a sleepy I love you before falling asleep. 

Victor kisses his nose and runs a hand through Yuuri’s hair.

Like Ships In The Night (you keep passing me by) (5/?)

Enchanted Forest AU-Princess Emma does a reverse Cinderella and meets a Captain in a tavern instead of a Prince at a ball. It should have been a one-time thing but fate had other plans and they just keep meeting. Originally a one-shot birthday fic for @spartanguard but now a full on multichapter  Extra thanks to @phiralovesloki for being a stellar and fast beta!

5.2k | T | FF.net | AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4


The woods were darker than Emma had expected. Clouds obscured the moon and stars and the trees were little more than shadows against the black. It was the kind of night that called for curling up by a fire, not tromping through the forest looking for an escaped pirate.

There was a pull on her wrist from the black fabric wrapped around it. Emma adjusted her direction, trusting the locator magic to lead her through the darkness. She fingered the rough cotton in the dark. The scarf Hook had used to keep her from calling Elsa’s guards hadn’t been a bad idea but with a locator potion added, it had become Emma’s personal pirate finder. Her father and his knights had clattered off toward the port assuming, as Emma had, that the pirate would commandeer a ship. By the time she had poured out the potion, it was too late to tell them that Captain Hook had fled to the forest and not the sea. Determined not to let him get too far away, Emma had set off at a gallop on a horse only to abandon it when the scarf pulled her into the deep woods.

She didn’t know where Hook was going, only that, once again, he had betrayed her. This time she was going to throw him in the dungeon where he belonged, where her father had wanted him to be from the beginning. Her mistake had been to think that she understood him, that because they had both been hurt by love they were similar. She had thought that his encounter with the Dark One had changed him, made him recognize the futility of his vengeance, made him want to be a part of something. She thought she had sensed it that night in her room and later in the council chamber, but she had been wrong. After Neal and Walsh, she should have known better, but the damn pirate had made her forget herself and forget the lesson she knew all too well–the only people she can trust is her family.

Suddenly the pull on her wrist stopped and Emma paused in confusion. Then she heard the crack of a twig from behind and on instinct, she ducked. The momentum of her attacker took him over her body and to the ground. In a flash, Emma was on top and sliding up to pin his biceps with her knees. She put her full weight forward and he hissed in pain. She grinned in triumph but the smile fell as a sharp pain pierced her thigh. She had forgotten about the hook.

“Ah! What the hell!” She rolled off and away, her right hand going to her thigh and her left pulling her dagger. She hadn’t expected an actual fight, hadn’t believed he would really hurt her despite his escape, but of course she had been wrong.

“Emma? Bloody hell, Emma! Are you hurt?” His shock and remorse made her loosen her hold on her dagger but not on her anger.

“You stabbed me with your hook! Of course I’m hurt,”

There was movement and suddenly he was beside her, his shadowed form becoming something recognizable close-up.

“Where?” Then his hand was on her knee and sliding upward as he probed for her wound. Heat flashed through her and she slapped his hand away. He drew back as if she had slapped his face.

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Secret Meetings (Percival Graves x Reader)

Originally posted by newdscamander

Percival Graves x Reader
Warnings: almost getting steamy…if that makes any sense…..
WC: 792

♥♥♥

Request:  If you’re feeling like it, how about Grindelwald as Percival Graves x Reader - Caught in action :) 

♥♥♥

Notes: First off, thank you for requesting! Second, I am terribly sorry if this is not what you wanted. We don’t write smut, if ‘action’ is…smut. I did the build up, if that is okay? Hopefully you like this and please let me know! Feedback would be great! I wrote this at 1am, so I am sorry if there are a lot of mistakes ;-; ♥ 

- Kari

_____________________________________________

It has been over five months since you have been dating Percival Graves, who is also your superior. No one knows but you two, which is hard to keep when it has been five months. When in duty, you two stole a few glances here and there hoping no one saw. It was getting harder and harder each day hiding it from everybody especially your best friend, Tina. She was getting suspicious, but never pushed the topic.

You can tell Percival was getting frustrated already when he started pulling you away into corner to steal a few kisses. You were enjoying these small meetings with him, loving his small affections to you. His exterior demeanor was very deceiving, the intimidating look he gives his colleagues was something that makes you laugh now that you know how he really acts in the closed doors.

You were at your designated desk, organizing each files from most important to least important. Way too intrigued in your task, you didn’t notice somebody hovering over you until they started speaking.

“Excellent work, (Name). Here is another file I want you to look over, please.” The rough voice sent shivers down your spine. You looked up at your boyfriend, giving him a small smile.

“Why of course, Mr. Graves. I’ll look over it right away.” He hummed in response before making his way to his office. You watched him until he disappeared and looked at the file he handed you. It had a piece of paper attached to it with a written message.

Meet me in my office as soon as you finish your task

You tried to hide your grin, failing miserably. The process couldn’t be even slower with these files. Finally putting the files in order, you hurried off rather quickly.

Arriving to the front of his office door, you whispered a spell to open it. Percival had given you the spell after 2 months of dating, trusting you not to tell anyone. When the door opened, you saw him looking over papers. You didn’t noticed the that you left the door ajar and walked closer to Percival’s desk.

“Mr. Graves, is there anything you needed to tell me?” Your went behind his chair, hands sliding onto his shoulders, feeling him tense up. He groaned and relaxed himself, getting a hold of your hands in his.

“It is a good thing you ask, sweetie.” He looked up at you, eyes gleaming with playfulness. He turned his chair to face you and pulled you onto his lap. You squeaked at the sudden action, only making him smirk. Your faces were centimeters apart, feeling the tension grow by the second. You took a hold of his face and pulled him into a kiss. His hands holding your thighs tighter as he leaned in for a deeper kiss. He pulled away from the kiss and his lips moved down your jaw to your neck, kissing it.

That’s when you heard someone, besides you two, start talking.

“Mr. Grav-AHHH!”

You jumped off Percival at such a fast rate, you think you sprained an ankle. You looked at who the intruder was and you were flushed to see it was Tina. Percival cleared his throat, looking like nothing happened. This man does not get swayed by anything.

“Miss Goldestein, how can I help you?” He questioned with an irritated tone. You couldn’t even face your best friend, the embarrassment washing over you like waves. She glanced at you, probably as embarrassed as you are.

“I-I’m sorry, the door was slightly opened, so I assumed I c-could come in.” Tina stuttered out, wishing she could disappear at that moment.

“I’ll pass by in a moment, please give me a few moments.” He dismissed her with a hand gesture. Tina nodded and looked at you again. You knew that face very well…it was going to be a long night talk. Queenie is going to have a blast teasing you.

“Well, someone knows now.” Percival muttered.

“I’ll talk to her, don’t worry about it.” You smiled at him, hoping he isn’t too mad. With a hand movement from him, you were already on his lap again.

“How about we get back to what we were doing, hm?” He leaned in for kiss, but you pushed him back.

“How about we get back to work, it has been way too long since I have been away from my desk. We don’t want more people to know, do we?” You winked. You got on your feet and kissed him once again.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, don’t miss me too much.” You waved.

You were about to close the door behind you, when you saw his grumpy face and you couldn’t help but giggle.

Manufactured Whiteness

The wonderful broadlybrazen coined the phrase “manufactured whiteness” in her commentary on how very white and very male that the marvel cinematic universe was. I was so taken with the concept as a name for something that I had been thinking, but couldn’t actually word, that I borrowed it for use on one of my more recent presentations. Now that the presentation has concluded, I would like to return to this concept and make a attempt to expand its boundaries. Hopefully broadlybrazen will approve of what I’ve done.

Primarily, I would like to juxtapose “manufactured whiteness” against the commodification of the cultures of people of color by whiteness to clarify where I think manufactured whiteness can go. As an act of cultural appropriation, the commodification of the cultures and experiences of people of color seeks to reduce these cultures and experiences to their most “valuable” components and thereby divorce them from their cultural context for their consumption by whiteness. For example, the divorcing of yoga from its cultural context and its transformation into a form of fad exercise; the appropriation of the word “guru,” to mean anyone with a specialized form of knowledge; the appropriation of “zen” and the implications of “no mind” for use in instructional manuals; and the packaging of Hip-Hop culture for consumption by a global audience are all examples of the way in which whiteness commodifies other cultures in order to consume them for its own benefit.

The above practices, in their own cultural context, are treated as less worthy due to their performance by people of color. However, once divorced from their context, they can be sanitized through cultural appropriation, and made palatable for consumption. What should be kept in mind about commodification, beyond the consumption, is that the practice in question must first be divorced of its cultural context and the bodies that perform it in order for it to be consumed by whiteness. If there are any cultural markers, they must serve the purposes of whiteness, or they must be reinterpreted to further divorce the practice from its cultural context in order for it to be “safe” for consumption and commodification.

While the commodification of the cultures of people of color requires reaching into these cultures and pulling something out, manufacturing whiteness requires the construction of a cultural object such that it eliminates the contributions of the people of color. Further, this elimination is for the purpose of perpetuating the construction of a world around whiteness as an ideological structure. We can take broadlybrazen’s analysis of Agent Carter as an example of the manufacturing of whiteness. Ostensibly based in a historical era where people of color existed beyond servitude, Agent Carter asks us to believe in the fiction of a 1940’s New York where people of color are almost completely absent. Further, Agent Carter only does so to center the struggles of the lone white woman against the oppressive forces of sexism and Leviathan, ultimately assuming that her struggle can stand in for the struggles of all women.

Put simply, Agent Carter manufactures a world where the contributions of people of color are largely absent which has the result of centering whiteness embodied by Peggy carter at the heart of the narrative that is being presented. Now, as broadlybrazen argues, manufactured whiteness is an intentional choice. The overwhelming whiteness of Agent Carter, for example, is necessary in order to center the viewer and the narrative upon the struggles of Peggy: given the social and historical context of the show, the inclusion of people of color in anything but the most minor role would demand that the narrative address the presence of racism in 1940’s New York, however obliquely. Put simply, in this way, manufactured whiteness allows for whiteness to avoid talking about the way in which whiteness itself (and Peggy by extension) serves to generate the very problems they seek not to address.

We can, unfortunately, compare this to the aside in Captain America: The First Avenger, where Dum Dum Dugan questions whether or not they’re going to be taking Jim Morita (a Japanese man from Fresno) in their escape from the HYDRA facility. While TFA still participates in the manufacturing of whiteness to a very large degree, it makes an attempt to acknowledge the racial tensions present during that period in American history, however oblique. Agent Carter, despite having ample opportunity, does not do so due to it’s manufactured whiteness: in order to maintain the fiction of an all white SSR and New York, people of color cannot be permanent named characters. To do so would invite question as to why there is no acknowledgement of the social reality of the character of color when the writers have gone through every effort to depict the majority of the male characters on Agent Carter as sexist in increasingly familiar ways.

Thus, the manufactured nature of whiteness is the creation of an artificial cultural object that selectively eliminates people of color from the culture. In doing so, manufactured whiteness allows the cultural object to focus on the experience of the white main character, while presenting all of the ancillary characters as the products of whiteness. I say artificial, in opposition to natural, to indicate the deliberate creative act that was necessary in order to eliminate people of color from a setting based in a history that they played a role in shaping. Now, this is not the only way that whiteness is manufactured within the MCU, or in comics media (are we honestly supposed to believe that the majority of mutants and superhumans are white), but Agent Carter’s example is particularly glaring because it is so obviously manufactured and artificial in a way that stands in stark relief even against other works of the same company.

To be sure, we can look at other modes of manufactured whiteness. Star Wars, for example, is a sterling example of how to manufacture whiteness, even in a narrative not based in our galaxy. While it is less appallingly evident than Agent Carters, the predominance of whiteness in Star Wars canon is such that the non-white characters stand out in stark relief against the rest of the narrative. Speaking only of the original trilogy, the fact that Billy Dee Williams is the only person of color who is given an on-screen name (I’m not going to count the lone black x-wing pilot killed in Jedi) in a galaxy full of people, points to manufactured nature of the whiteness in the narrative. We are expected to believe that there exists only one named Black person in the whole of the galaxy far, far away? This is very obviously a fiction, and a bad one at that.

Put simply, in my view, manufactured whiteness exists as a narrative choice to create a world that selectively eliminates the existence and presence of people of color. When that world is based upon our own, the manufacturing of whiteness serves to centralize whiteness within the narrative and present a vision of the world where people of color are absent. When the world is one of fantastic creation, the manufacturing of whiteness is a deliberate choice to deny the presence of people of color without providing a convincing narrative explanation. In both cases, the creation of an ultimately white (and we can put straight or any other identity marker here) is the creation of an artificial one.

Melanie/crybaby inspired pop art. This is my
First attempt at this drawing style so hopefully I did okay :) 💘

8

alvin + full body shots

2
  • Warnings: none
  • y/g = your gender
    • I was trying to be more gender inclusive here. Hopefully I did okay :)
  • Masterlist here
  • If you like my blog you should turn on my notifications so you don’t miss when I post an imagine!

“Yo, mudblood! Get out of my way!” A girl, towering over a foot over me, shoved me against the wall and made my books from my bag spill out. I scrambled on the floor, trying to retrieve the books before people stepped on them. 

Tears threatened to escape my eyes, as it had already been a very stressful week. I had had five exams this week and on top of that, my boyfriend Oliver and I had a falling out. I felt alone and trapped in schoolwork, and just a little push could send me over the edge. 

“Ha! That’s what you get, you filthy, dirty, mud–” SLAM. The girl was tackled to the floor by someone, and with a cry, I shot up to step away from the scene.

“YOU– NEVER– INSULT– MY– (Y/G)FRIEND.” A familiar voice shouted between punches.

“Oliver?!” With a sweep of his brown hair, Oliver got up from pummeling the bully into the ground and wiped his sweat off on his robes. 

“Hey, y/n.” He smiled at me, and a trickle of blood inched down from his lips. 

“Oh my god, you’re hurt!” I cried, and shoving my things in my bag, hurried over to where Oliver was standing in front of the bully and her friends. They helped her up and scrambled away, glaring at Oliver.

“Sorry you had to see that side of me, love.” I threw my arms around Oliver’s middle and he pecked me lightly on the top of my head. I turned my face up to meet Oliver’s, and for the first time in a week, I stood on my tiptoes, laced my arms around his neck, and kissed him. Oliver’s hands moved down to rest on the small of my back, and perfectly synchronizing our moves, kissed me back deeply. 

Suddenly all my stress and fears lifted as I was in Oliver’s arms and I remembered why I loved him so much. He was my soulmate, someone who would always defend and love me, no matter what happened. I knew that we were both unbelievably happy to have each other back again.

ATTENTION NEW FOLLOWERS!

Wow, SO MANY of you have followed me after my most recent Underfell fluff comic, and I cannot thank you guys enough for that :’))))) Seriously, it makes me so happy that so many of you are giving my comic love <3

However, I’m just throwing a quick reminder out there that while my blog will always have a healthy amount of fluffy and cute stuff for everyone, this blog's main content contains characters with bellies, (ecto fat for the skeletons) mpreg/skelepreg, fat positivity, all kinds of odd stomach noises, stuffing, and subjects of that nature.

If any of this is not your cup of tea, please feel free to unfollow or blacklist the tag ‘undertum’.    

Thank you so much!

6

Marvel/DC AU - Where Daredevil teams up with Harley Quinn on occassion
Requested by anon

4

I got bored and finally finished those MH TWEWY sprite edits I’ve been working on, including a redo of the Jay one from a while back, in an attempt to make him look slightly less like a twelve-year-old. (Did it work? We just don’t know.)

Partners in Crime (Part One)

Summary: You are the Winchester’s sister. On a case you run into the Trickster. Takes place somewhere in season 4. 

Characters: Trickster (Gabriel), Reader

Pairings: Gabriel X Reader

Word Count: 2800

A/N: This is based off the request I got from @sewlovelynerd asking for a ReaderX Gabriel flick where the reader is falling for the Trickster and finds out he is an angel. It got split into two parts because it kinda got away from me.

This is my first shot at any other pairing than Dean, so hopefully I did okay. Thank you guys so much for reading. As always, any feedback would be wonderful. Please like and reblog!

Tagging my squad- @shortandlongstories @for-a-brothers-love @tigershadow

I am also going to tag @readingissupernatural , @spnfanficpond

Also, I would like requests if you guys have any. Sometimes its hard to come up with good ideas for fics on my own. If you want tagged, drop me an ask.

Warnings: Language, fluff, some violence

Originally posted by gabriellabattista

It was late, or early depending on how you looked at it. You had been up for almost three days, stuck in a sketchy ass motel room on a solo hunt. Your brothers, Sam and Dean, were each busy on their own thing a couple states over. Those two dumbssses had been fighting, and parted ways, and instead of picking a side, like you knew they wanted you to, you told them both to go to hell. Now you were trying to take care of this case, which you thought may be a god. A little more than you could probably handle, but you were never going to admit that.

You stumble over to the coffee pot, pouring yet another cup. You stare out the window, fog hangs thick, water clings to the windows.  

“Hey Y/N, how’s it hangin!?” You turn, dropping the mug, pulling the 9mm from the back of your pants. You drew it up on a pair of whiskey eyes and a shit eating grin.

“I should pump you full of lead just on principle.” You snarl, holding your stance. You probably would have put at least a round or two in him if you wouldn’t be running from the cops after someone called it in.

“Now why would you do that? It’s just your old pal.”

“Pal? Ha…You killed my brother! Like a hundred freaking times!”

He scoffs, shrugging and heads to the fridge, “To be fair you weren’t there for that one. Sam exaggerates a little…You got any chocolate in this joint?”

“Get the fuck out of my food Trickster!” You stow the gun and grab his shoulder, slamming him against the wall.

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Alone at the Burrow ~ Harry Potter x Reader

Originally posted by hoping-its-right-for-once

Requested by @icharleecongreve

Prompt: Y/N being left alone at the Burrow with Harry and things get a bit steamy.  AU where Voldemort never happened and Harry’s parents still live.  Reader is the daughter of Remus Lupin.

Warning: There is smut in this story.  You have been warned.

Okay, so hopefully I did good.  I feel like I may have rushed it.  So…sorry.  Let me know if you like it though.

Word Count: 2457

=========

You sat on one of the few couches in the Burrow, a book in your lap and a glass of hot chocolate in hand.  It was a particular chilly morning and you couldn’t help but need the warm goodness of chocolate this time.  And you also had to blame your father, Remus Lupin.  He loved chocolate more than anyone and had passed that trait onto you.

“Morning Y/N!” a cheerful voice broke you out of your reverie, making you glance up from the pages.  George came tumbling down the stairs, Fred following close behind him.  They both gave you greetings before disappearing out the door in laughter.  You knew then that they had managed to cause some sort of havoc and surely, Ron stumbled down the steps, water dripping from his ginger hair.

“You better bloody run because if you lot ever come back,” his threat died as his shoulders slumped before looking at you.

“You know your brothers mean well,” you tried to defend.  Ron rolled his eyes.

“Leave it to you to defend them.  Bad enough Harry and I are fighting, I don’t need you adding to it,” Ron huffed before heading up the steps.  He left you in time to avoid seeing the blush on your cheeks at the mention of Harry’s name.  You would never admit that you had feelings for Harry but it simply due to the fact that no one asked.  They all assumed Ginny and Harry would get together but they acted more like siblings rather than a potential couple.

You sighed at that thought, picking up your book again.  No one ever suspected you to ever have a crush on a boy.  They all assumed that your father kept you from wanting contact with people, considering his “furry problem” as your grandparents described it.  It caused you much heartache, especially since he was so protective of you.

Without warning, you saw a light shine beside you, causing you to look up.  From the fireplace stepped out several people, each putting a bigger smile on your face, especially the last person.  You stood from your seat, rushing one of them and receiving a large hug in return.  You had missed them, rarely getting a chance before school to see them, so this was a nice surprise.

“Uncle Sirius!”

“Ah Y/N, how’s the pup?” Sirius teased, giving you a hug in return.  You turned to the others, hugging James and Lily Potter.  

“There’s our beautiful girl!  Starting to turn into quite the heartbreaker I see,” James ruffled your hair before turning to Harry, giving him a nudge.  You blushed brightly, averting your gaze from your family.  They weren’t really your family, none of them were related by blood, but your uncles and aunt had grown up together.  They were so close that you rarely saw any of them without the other.  

“As long as she does the heartbreaking, then I am fine with that,” came another voice, making you turn to look toward the kitchen.  Your father was leaning against the wall, watching the scene play out before him.

“Of course you would say that, Remus.  Always the overprotective type.”

“Only toward my little girl,” he gave you a wink, which you groaned toward.  

“And this is why I am not going with you to Diagon Alley, dad,” you mumbled, returning to your seat.  You heard your father chuckle before nodding toward the stairs.  The other Weasleys came down then, all hollering in excitement.  Everyone was going to Diagon Alley to get their supplies for the upcoming school year.  You had already went and collected your things (with Remus following close behind) so you had no desire to go back.  Remus had to get a few more things for himself, so he opted to go again, deciding that he could leave you alone.  Even though you were a 7th year student.

“Um, Mum, Dad, can I stay here with Y/N?” Harry’s voice earned your attention, watching as his parents nodded.  

“Sure buddy,” James patted his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.  “Such the perfect gentleman to offer to keep Y/N company.  Just don’t do anything Padfoot would do, okay?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, an annoyed expression crossing his features.  Everyone bid the others goodbye, flooing away.  George and Fred came back once everyone was gone, following quickly behind once they made their comments about Harry and you being left alone.  And then, it was quiet in the house.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, failing to pay attention to your book.  It also didn’t help that Harry was staring at you, watching every move you made.  You tried to act natural, taking a sip of your hot chocolate and turning the page but you found your mind just couldn’t stay focused.  So, you glanced up at Harry, keeping a stoic expression on your face.

“Yes?” you questioned, arching a brow.  Harry rubbed the back of his neck before focusing on you again, smiling gently.

“Hey.”

“Oh by Merlin’s beard Harry,” you giggled, patting the spot next to you.  He let out a breathy laugh, doing as you requested.  You felt the couch dip as he sat, his hands laying awkwardly in his lap.

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thedominobomb  asked:

Oh! AU Aesthetics!! That sounds awesome and I would love to take part in it. I think it would be cool to see an aesthetic of Jack and Wiishu in a sorta magic-y AU. I'm thinking a bit like the BBC One show Merlin. Lots of cool things to work with in that series. ahaha

I’ve actually never seen that (but I looked up screencaps so hopefully I did okay<3) I used a few things from the show but it’s mostly just magic-y/medieval/fairy tail type stuff! (I had this idea that Signe is a part fae warrior princess and Sean is a wizard that falls in love with her and becomes her adviser and I’m getting really ramble-y so I’m going to stop~) Also Sean is a ginger for some reason but I love it. Anyway here you are Dani!!  ⇢