i wonder if he was delighted right then

This is honestly my favorite page in this whole book, let alone the whole series, so let me break down the various reasons why:

1. Peeves and Lupin clearly already knew each other. This page is your first hint that Remus Lupin may have been a bit of a trouble maker. Peeves already has a song and nicknames for him, and Lupin isn’t a bit surprised.

2. “Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers.” This reminds me of the way Fred and George relate to each other, or to Ginny. Its no surprise that F and G are the closest of the Weasleys, and what good friends they are with Ginny. They offered to send her a toilet seat, they are constantly pranking one another. They don’t show each other respect in the way they would a teacher per say, but respect between pranksters also includes some pranking and teasing among each other right?

This page is your first hint at the relationship between the Marauders and Peeves, and it delights me. Look at instances later of the way Peeves and the twins relate. Its similar.

3. Its like this scene is almost a test from Peeves to Lupin - is Lupin the same as the pranking teenager Peeves once new, or did he grow up?

4. And his answer is in that wonderful spell of Lupin’s. I cannot believe that this teacher, at his first lesson with these students, forcibly shoved a piece of chewing gum up Peeves’ nose. Lupin is clearly not the straight-laced, “play by the rules” type we in this fandom like to characterize him as.

5. Also, what better way to relate to and get on your students good side than to one-up the school poltergeist? Especially when your class is full of thirteen year olds.

6. REMUS. ALREADY. KNEW. DEAN’S. NAME. At this point, Lupin had not yet had a class with the Gryffindor third years. And, with seven years worth of classes times four houses - thats 28 classes worth of students whose names he had to learn. There is no reason he should already know the names of his new students - and yet he does.

And not like it’s Harry’s name either - Dean Thomas is kind of a nobody at this point, but Remus Lupin made it a point to KNOW HIS STUDENT’S NAME BEFORE HE HAD HIM IN CLASS.

7. This whole scene is a DIRECT CONTRAST to the scene before, in Snape’s class. In Snape’s class, we see him play favorites, we see him insult his students, we see him attempt to poison a child’s pet. Here, already, and we’re not even in class, we see Lupin relate to his students, treat them with respect and dignity (on the previous page he says, “Would you please put all your books back in your bags” - he uses “please” and other words that indicate respect). And we see him bother to learn his students names.

Remus John Lupin should’ve been a professor, alright? He should’ve. He’s so good at it. I love him. I love this page. I love POA.

LoS Part 1: Snippets from Tumblr

From tumblr:

1.  “Actually, it’s short for Maximum Lightwood,” said Magnus. “As in the most amount of Lightwood you can have.”

2.  Far below them the world spun by, a patchwork of summer-gold fields, green hills, and luminous, winding rivers of blue and green. It was beautiful, but Julian could not take his eyes off his brother. So this is the Wild Hunt, he thought. This freedom, this expanse, this ferocity of joy. For the first time, he understood how and why Mark’s choice to stay with his family might not be an easy one. For the first time he thought in wonder of how much his brother must love him after all, to consider giving up the sky for his sake.

3. And even odder, when Mark and Kieran had come into the library, Kieran had gone immediately over to Max and picked him up, delighted by his blue skin and his tiny horns.Max had stuck his hand into Kieran’s wavy hair and pulled. Kieran had just laughed. “That’s right, it changes color, little nixie-like warlock,” he said. “Look.” And his hair went from blue-black to blue in an instant. Max giggled.“I didn’t know you could do that on purpose,” said Mark, who had always thought of Kieran’s hair as a reflection of his moods, uncontrollable as the tides.“You don’t know a lot of things about me, Mark Blackthorn,” Kieran said, setting Max down.Alec and Magnus had exchanged a look at that, the sort of look that made Mark feel as if they had reached a silent and agreed-upon consensus …

4.  “You’re going to have to learn to live with it,” Jules said. “Even if it horrifies you, Emma. Even if it makes you sick. Just like I’m going to have to live with whatever other boyfriends you have, because we are forever no matter how, Emma, no matter what you want to call what we have, we will always be us.”

5. They threw their weapons down and hurled themselves toward the row of horses, one after the other — Livvy leapt at Julian, throwing her arms around his neck. Mark flung himself from his horse and landed to find himself being hugged tightly by Dru and Tavvy. Ty came more quietly, but with the same incandescent happiness on his face. He waited for Livvy to be done nearly strangling her brother and then stepped in to take Julian’s hands.And Julian, who Kit had always thought of as an almost frightening model of control and distance, grabbed his brother and yanked him close, his hands twisting in the back of Ty’s shirt. His eyes were shut, and Kit had to look away.He had never had anyone but his father, and he was sure beyond any words that his father had never loved him like that.

6. “Clary, what are you not telling me?”There was a long silence. Clary looked out toward the dark water, biting her lip. Finally, she spoke. “Jace asked me to marry him.”“Oh!” Emma had already begun opening her arms to hug the other girl when she caught sight of Clary’s expression. She froze. “What’s wrong?”

7. There was a long silence. Magnus sighed. “I have to hand it to you,” he said. “I never thought Jace and Clary would be topped by anyone else in terms of insane, self-destructive decisions, but you all are giving them a run for their money.”“I really had nothing to do with this,” Kieran pointed out stiffly.“I think you will find many poor decisions led you here, my friend,” Magnus said. “All right, you — all of you — wait here. And don’t do anything stupid.”He strode out of the room on long, black-clad legs, swearing under his breath.“He’s getting more and more like Gandalf,” said Emma, watching him go. “I mean, a hot, younger-looking Gandalf, but I keep expecting him to start stroking his long white beard and muttering darkly.

8. There was a commotion atop the pavilion, and a single blast from a horn shattered the murmuring quiet in the clearing. The gentry looked up. A tall figure had appeared beside the throne. He was all in white, salt-white, with a doublet of white silk and gauntlets of white bone. White horns curled from either side of his head, startling against the blackness of his hair. A gold band encircled his forehead.Cristina exhaled. “The King.”Emma could see his profile: it was beautiful. Clear, precise, clean like a drawing of something perfect. Emma couldn’t have described the shape of his eyes or cheekbones or the crook of his mouth, and she lacked Jules’ ability to paint it, but she knew it was uncanny and wonderful and that she would remember the face of the King of the Seelie Court for all of her life.He turned, bringing his face into full view. Emma heard Cristina gasp faintly. The King’s face was divided down the middle. The right side was the face of a handsome young man, luminous with youth and beauty. The left side was an inhuman mask, gray skin tight and leathery over bone, eyesocket empty and black, mottled with red scars.Kieran, bound to the tree, looked once at the monstrous face of his father and turned his head away, his chin dropping, tangled dark hair falling to hide his eyes.

9. When Emma came out into her bedroom, wearing sweatpants and a tank top and rubbing her hair dry with a green towel, she found Mark curled up at the foot of her bed, reading a copy of Alice in Wonderland.He was wearing a pair of cotton pajama bottoms that Emma had bought for three dollars from a vendor on the side of the PCH. He was partial to them as being oddly close in their loose, light material to the sort of trousers he’d worn in Faerie.If it bothered him that they also had a pattern of green shamrocks embroidered with the words GET LUCKY on them, he didn’t show it. He sat up when Emma came in, scrubbing his hands through his hair, and smiled at her.Mark had a smile that could break your heart. It seemed to take up his whole face and brighten his eyes, firing the blue and gold from inside.“A strange evening, forsooth,” he said.Emma put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you forsooth me.”

10. “It can’t last,” Emma said, staring at him, because how could it, when they could never keep what they had? “It’ll break our hearts.”He caught her by the wrist, brought her hand to his chest. Splayed her fingers over his heart. It beat against her palm, like a fist punching its way out of his ribcage. “Break my heart,” he said. “Break it in pieces. I give you permission.”

11. “I have always needed you, Kieran,” Mark said. “I have needed you to live. I’ve always needed you so much, I never had a chance to think about whether we were good for each other or not.”Kieran sat up. “That is honest,” he said, finally. “I cannot fault you there.”

12. Cristina spread her hands apart in bewilderment, and winced. Mark’s expression turned to one of concern.“You’re not in pain?” he said.“No,” she said. “Are you?”“You’re near me,” he said. “There is no reason for me to hurt.”

13.  “I know.” Mark brushed his lips across her forehead. Cristina could feel his heart pounding. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll fix it.”

14.  Kieran sat up rather reluctantly. The waves of his hair had lightened to blue; he turned around, and leaned back against Mark, rather as if they were on horseback and Mark was behind.

15. Kieran shook his head. “I cannot do it,” he said.“Kier —“ Mark began angrily, but Kieran had his head down, like a beaten dog. His hair fell, sweat-tangled, into his face, and his shirt and the waist of his breeches were soaked in blood. “You’re bleeding again. I thought you said you were healing?”“I thought I was,” Kieran said softly. “Mark, leave me here —“A hand touched Mark’s shoulder. Cristina. She had put her knife away. She looked at him, levelly. “I’ll help you get him over the wall.”

16. “Not one of my best,” said Magnus, to Kieran. “I apologize — I’m not a big fan of your father’s.”“My father does not have fans.” Kieran leaned against the edge of the table. “He has subjects. And enemies.”“And sons.”“His sons are his enemies,” said Kieran, without inflection.

It’s night, and we’ve set up camp. Our gnome rogue comes dragging a deer, and our half-giant fighter brings back a bundle of fish. Our Tiefling sorcerer finds nothing. Looking to roleplay, I as a human ranger offer to cook. I’ve got a rabbit under my arm.

Me (OOC): I’m going to salt some jerky, cook the fish, and make a rabbit stew.

DM: You each get 25 pounds of jerky, which you put in your saddlebags. Tell me how you’re preparing the rest.

(Here we fall into character.)

Me: Let me see those fish.

Half-giant: Why? I don’t think I trust you, especially not your goodberries.

Gnome: I gave him my deer!

Me: Don’t worry. Grand Stag is a wonderful cook.

Me (OOC): I fillet the rabbit and fish, and prepare a broth from the bones. The rabbit goes in first.

Half-giant: Maybe I doubted you, that is starting to smell delicious!

Me: Now, let me just add in this fish you’ve caught.

Half-giant: Um, are you sure? I don’t think that is going to pair very well!

Me: Trust me, I’m a wonderful cook.

DM: Repulsive. I’m going to have you roll for that, just to make sure it’s edible.


DM: (Sighs). Well, he begins to ladle out stew into your bowls, and you gratefully have the first spoonful. The broth is warm, just the right consistency, and you can taste the savory marrow which permeates the liquid. It binds well with the rabbit in your second bite; the meat melts away in your mouth, your shoulders relax, and you smack your lips in delight. But you wish you stopped there. The fish, God, the fish, it takes you by your shoulders and smacks you in the face like your alcoholic father, and screams “AHHHH!” Grand Stag is a terrible cook.

Tiefling: Dinner is on me next time, actually.

Me: What? Allergic to- ouch! I bit my tongue!

At least I got an inspiration point.

Room 316 (M)

word count: 5.1k

genre: smut + a little fluff; CEO!seungcheol

pairing: reader/seungcheol

summary: your boss, CEO choi seungcheol, has been injured in a car accident and you go to visit him; strictly out of worry as a friend and employee, definitely not because you harbor a sort-of crush on the man. but as the anesthetics leave seungcheol a little loose, he ends up saying more than you were meant to hear and it reveals a lot about what you mean to him.


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Imagine the starblaster crew filming an infomercial for the general public before they begin their mission.

OH NO. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE. (A wonderful thing is what, this is such a delightful thought.)

Davenport would absolutely want this to be a professional production. He has organized the filming crew, the editing, everything. He wants a classy representation of the IPRE. Everything immediately goes to shit.

At first they attempt individual interviews.

Magnus won’t stop flexing. Worse, he tries to predict which camera angle is being used and flexes specifically in that direction. He’s only right about half the time. There’s a lot of discussion about muscles when he’s asked questions about the ship’s safety measures.

Lucretia has just discovered that she’s not a huge fan of cameras. She’s shy, but the shyness is not manifesting as bashfulness and difficulty making eye-contact. Instead Lucretia is frozen motionless and staring straight ahead with laser focus. It’s a look that will serve her well as Madam Director, or the many, many times one of the crew tries to prank her. Her answers are abrupt and the interviewer is nervous in the same way they were when they had to wait outside of the principal’s office in grade school.

Merle won’t stop talking. He won’t stop talking and every single thing he’s saying is either about Pan or is excruciating. He is the embodiment of both That Relative that shows up at every family gathering and makes things embarrassing for everyone and the preacher who has two hours of sermon to deliver at mass and is going to say everything he means to say. Sometimes he is both in the same sentence and everything is terrible.

They try to film the twins at the same time. They try to film the twins in different rooms. It doesn’t matter because no matter what they try, both Taako and Lup end up in the shot anyway - in one notable instance, because Lup is in the background setting fire to part of the set (a demonstration of her abilities) while Taako lists such qualifications as “being badass” and the IPRE’s inability to “keep them off of the ship anyway” for their inclusion in the program as the fire alarms begin to blare in the distance.

Barry does his best. Barry does his absolute best to give a good interview and answer the questions professionally, and Davenport is so thankful for that. It’s going pretty well until Lup yells from off camera about his current level of nerd (a solid 10 out of 10) and Barry glances at her and… doesn’t stop. He’s turning red and he’s stalled out completely. Even when he stops staring his focus is gone. Barry has left the building.

They try to interview the whole group at once.

Magnus flexes Lucretia right out of her chair, Merle tries to grab Lucretia before she hits the floor and elbows Taako, who’s shoved into Lup, who attempts to retaliate by tossing a fireball at him and misses, barely missing Barry, but not at all missing one of the cameras. Davenport hasn’t even gotten into the shot yet.

It is a very long day, and an expensive day for the IPRE. Davenport doesn’t have much more time to release a public statement, but it’s okay. He’ll just organize a press conference. A press conference is bound to be better than that… mess.

(The press conference is marginally better. There’s no property damage this time, at least.)

happy belated birthday @willjtudor​ !! this was supposed to be ready yesterday but life happened, i’m sorry 

this is set in the alternate dimension, some soft au!malec for you riya. hope you like it ♥

(huge thanks to @magnusragnor​ who helped me beat this into shape and encourage me to keep writing every time i felt like giving up)

Sunlight bathes the room in a hazy golden hue, chasing the remaining night chill and making the navy blue sheets look a shade lighter than they are. Alec frowns a little but refuses to open his eyes. Despite the red tint he can perceive through his lids he’s sure the sun isn’t what woke him up. And then he feels it. Careful fingers running through his hair, a warm naked chest beneath his cheek, Magnus’ soft breathing. He can’t help it, nuzzling into Magnus’ warmth and feeling him chuckle.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” Alec answers in a raspy voice, not even trying to disguise the total contentment he feels right now.

He lazily perches himself up on his elbow, looking down at Magnus. He looks glorious - hair soft and sticking up in all directions, so different from his usual combed style, body all relaxed lines, and his face set in a tender expression, eyes shining in the morning light and a smile dancing on his lips. To Alec’s delight, he can see a hickey under his jaw, right below his ear. He cups Magnus’ face and runs his thumb over the bruised skin, grinning when it makes him shiver. When he leans down to kiss him, Alec’s smile is equal parts sinful and fond.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Ooh, for the hair one, I bet Padme would be willing to teach Anakin/the clones lots of really complex braids to try out on Obi-Wan. Outwardly he's resigned, but inwardly he really likes it because the more complex style take longer so he has fingers in his hair longer, thus offers no real complaints. The first time he actually falls asleep during the process they know they've found a winner. Lots of hair petting for their touch-starved Jedi.

“So let me get this straight, you’re just letting them braid you?” Anakin watched Obi-Wan, sitting on a small log with his legs folded beneath himself, an eyebrow raised as Boil was focusing intently on the copper hair as he carefully braided it. It was clear the vod was new at it.

“Mmmn, it makes them happy.” Obi-Wan gave a rather drowsy mutter. “Feels nice too. Why not, keeps my hair out of my eyes.” He let his head drop a bit more forward, sighing quietly in a noise that Anakin could only categorize as pure pleasure, the older man almost purring where he was kneeling on the ground with Boil sitting behind him on the log of a similar make to Anakin’s.

Between the two Jedi, the fire crackled merrily and warded off the chill of the night.

Honestly, Anakin couldn’t remember a time Obi-Wan had looked this relaxed that didn’t involve alcohol, meditation or sleep and then again it wasn’t always that calm with the latter.

That might be why he caught Waxer by the arm right before lights out after he had commed Padme real quick. “Could you bring a message to Commander Cody for me?” He was smiling to assure the trooper nothing was wrong.

Waxer blinked his amber eyes at him before nodding, saulting a bit. “Of course sir.” He sounded puzzled.

“Senator Amidala is willing to teach anyone who wants to learn some more advanced braiding techniques, for Obi-Wan, if anyone is interested that is.” He grinned a bit more, watching how Waxer took a moment to digest the information before pure and gleeful interest lit up in his eyes, the trooper giving a quick, eager nod.

“Of course sir, I’ll give him the message right now sir.” And with that the trooper shot off to find his commander, delight in his Force signature.

‘I do wonder if Padme knows what she got herself into.’ Anakin mused with a small grin before he ducked into his tent.


“I’m almost envious I don’t have hair.” Ahsoka grinned at her master, laying on her stomach as she watched the blond.

“Shut up Snips.” Anakin grumbled as Padme demonstrated another way of braiding the hairs that was quicker but made it look fuller at the same time. “I don’t see why she’s using me, I got shoulder length hair, Obi-Wan’s is much longer then mine.”

“Because you were teasing Obi-Wan, now shut up Knight Skywalker.” Padme offered quickly before turning back to her attentive students. “Now if you really want to make it seem even fuller, you put a few pins in like so.” She demonstrated on the thin braid to prove her point.

“Senator Amidala, you have mannequin heads! Please use them!” Anakin finally groaned. His hair felt weird.

“Shush.” She tapped him on the head with a wicked smile. “Now, Knight Skywalker unfortunately does not have long enough hair for me to demonstrate a Nabooan middle braid but no worries, we will do that one as while a bit more time consuming, would benefit Master Kenobi during fights as its less likely to unravel.” She pulled over a mannequin head with long hair.

She showed them a lot of braids and Anakin carefully undid his own as he joined his padawan on the floor, collapsing on his back as Padme went on about fisthtail braids, waterfall, five braids, side braids and something called a corset braid that Anakin HIGHLY doubted Obi-Wan would let the others do to him but she was still showing them.


“Is…Is he asleep?” Anakin stared, Obi-Wan’s chin on his chest with quiet puffs of breath escaping him, Cody’s hands in his hair as he was slowly finishing off what looked like a rather tight braid that was pulling all of Obi-Wan’s hair back into a very complicated with five lines instead of three.

“Yup, he’s been doing that a lot if they braid his hair when he’s tired.” Rex admitted. “Commander Cody has been comming me about it. Best way to get him to rest apparently.” He shrugged.

Anakin blinked a bit then smiled, settling back to his rations as Cody tied off the braid and then slowly and carefully tilted the older Jedi until he was resting with his head in Cody’s lap, letting the Jedi sleep.

‘Guess that’s one way to help him out.’ The blond mused.

piece of art | h.s. imagine

♡ smut 


// harry and y/n take a trip to MoMA and her art studio, where things get a little messy


paint my kiss across your chest
if you’re the art, i’ll be the brush

-bad liar, selena gomez

“You’re prettier than all of the art in here.” Harry states. He flops his long arm across my shoulders as we stand looking at Andy Worhol’s Campbell’s Soup Cans. “I mean, it’s just a bunch of soup cans. I could’ve come up with that.”

I roll my eyes at his cheesy comment and laugh at his unappreciative nature towards art. “It’s Andy Worhal.”

“It’s not creative, y/n.” Harry looks at me and takes my hand in his, pulling me away from the soup cans. His heavy tan sweater sways lightly while he walks. His hands are clammy, just like usual. “You on the other hand, are the most creative, most beautiful person I know. Your art should be here. You should be in here,” he beams.

“I am in here.” I reply, looking up at him. The hat he has on makes him look different- younger, maybe.

“No, like on display. I want everyone to see how beautiful you are- wait no, on second thought, I don’t want anyone looking at you.” Harry shakes his head and takes his lip between his index finger and thumb.

“Why not? You said yourself, I’m prettier than all of the art in here,” I counter, though I completely disagree with his statement.

“Because having you on display would mean that other people would get to look at you and I want to be the only one who gets to look at y/n, the most beautiful and priceless piece of art that ever was.” Harry finishes his sentence with a kiss to my right temple. This leaves my cheeks burning and my mind wondering why this public act of affection is affecting me the way it is. All we would ever be seen doing is holding hands. Never kissing, never even hugging in public.

“People stare at you everyday and you don’t see me having a problem with it.” I cross my arms over my chest, sending him attitude.

“That’s because you don’t see me as a piece of art, love. I look at you and I see the most delicate, most intricate, most delightful thing created.” He flashes a smile at me again, and I wonder why he would ever think I don’t see him as a piece of art. Maybe he’s more than art to me. Maybe he’s my world, my lifeline, the oxygen in my lungs.

Harry yawns. “Can we go to your apartment? I’m tired.” Waking up before the sun does, performing on the Today Show and promising your girlfriend you’d go to MoMA with her can be exhausting.

“Yeah, Haz, we can go home.” I quietly say while he rubs his eyes. His sweater sleeves are far too long, even for his lanky arms. I notice him grabbing onto the ends of his sleeve, to keep the cool new york air away from his skin when we walk out the door. He grabs my hand with his uncovered one, a cool contrast to my always warm ones. Both of our chelsea boots clank on the dirty sidewalk and we do our best to avoid paparazzi, however we do stop to say hello to a few fans.

Once we settle into the range rover waiting for us, I tell Harry that I need to stop by my studio before we go back to my apartment. I say to him that he can stay in the car and that it’ll only be a few moments but he insists on coming up with me.

“Wow, this is intense.” He says closing the door. It’s a small studio with the tiniest bathroom and kitchen imaginable. It was my first home in Manhattan. Harry looks around my work area, careful not to trip over the paint stained sheet I have layed out on the floor to protect the wood underneath. He glances at the canvas on one of my three easels, the one he so graciously gifted me with. “Is this me?” He points to the unfinished painting.

I nod. “Yeah, I started that while you were in Jamaica. All from memory.”

“You’re so incredible.” He comes up behind me and rests his chin on the top of my head. Our height difference always makes me giggle. His arms slip underneath my sweater and shirt, finding spots on my warm torso to leave his cold hands. The contact makes me scream.

“Harry! Your hands are so fucking cold, get them off of me.” I wiggle away from his grasp and he frowns.

“I was trying to warm up, poppet,” Harry tries to justify his actions.

“Well you’re not warming up by putting your freezing cold hands on me,” I say while trying to find the gallery showing application I was given.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll turn on the thermostat.”

“No Harry, I came to pick up this application.” I wave the paper in front of him. “We can go now.”

Harry narrows his eyes and looks around the studio again. “No, I want to stay here and try something.”

My eyebrows knit together in a confused fashion. He begins walking over to my paints and rummages through the bottles. “What are you doing?” I question.

“I wanna try something,” He repeats. “Strip for me.” He continues blatantly. Turning around, he holds three bottles of paint in each of his large hands. He looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to take off my clothes but I remain wide eyed and completely clothed. Like he said, It’s still very cold in the studio and I have no clue as to what he’s planning on doing. Harry puts the paint down on the table closer to where I’m standing. He walks towards me and takes my jacket off. I reluctantly let him but still wonder what’s going on inside his head. “Can you at least tell me what you’re doing?” I question.

Harry bites his lip, hiding a smile from me. I hate it when he bites his lip because I love seeing him smile, but on the other hand there’s something mysterious to this lip bite. “Just trust me, okay? Look, I’ll even turn on the heat for you and we can stand in front of the heater,” he suggests.

“Harry…” I begin.

He pouts his lip. “Please, poppet?”

I groan as I’m unable to resist his begging eyes. “Fine,” I comply before pulling my shirt off of me, shuddering as the cold air hits my skin. Harry shuffles us closer to the air vent so I won’t freeze down to my bones.

“Pants, too.” He gestures. “Everything, love. I want everything off.” He unbuttons my jeans and moves his hands around my waist so that they’re resting right above my bum. He kneels down so he can be eye level with my stomach. He presses his lips to my already exposed belly button while reaching down my legs to unzip my boots, allowing me to step out of them before removing my jeans. I do this for him since he gets up to take me in. I’m slightly embarrassed, though this is hardly the first time he’s seen me like this. “So beautiful. God, how are you so perfect?” Harry is now standing in front of me, peering down my body.

“I’m hardly perfect,” I whisper. The warm air from the heater leaves goosebumps scattered along my backside, where the air first hits my body.

“But you are,” Harry insists and reaches behind my back, trying to unclasp my bra. I let him do so as I’ve completely given up on trying to understand what he’s doing. He lets my bra drop to the floor and I instinctively bring my arms up to cover myself. Harry shakes his head and grabs my arms to move them to my sides. “Why do you feel like you have to cover up, love?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, I’m just embarrassed, I guess.“

Harry chuckles lightly before pressing his lips against my own, making this our first kiss of the day. It’s tender and sweet, making me want more but he pulls away. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re perfect. All of the flaws that you think are flaws make you who you are. You’re perfectly imperfect.” He kisses my lips again. His words make pink blossoms bloom on my cheeks and heat emerge between my legs. He grabs a paint bottle and opens it.

“Harry what are you-”

“I want you to be my canvas. You’re always asking me to paint with you but I’ve decided I want to paint on you.” Harry answers. He grabs a pallet and squeezes the white paint onto the plastic.

“You’re gonna paint on me?” I look at him with disapproving eyes, wondering where he even got this idea from.

“Mhmm.” He dips the brush in the paint. He’s slow with his actions, making me anticipate the cold liquid on my skin. He starts at my left shoulder and I nearly yelp at the cold contact. “Sorry,” he says. I nod and he drags the brush all the way down my arm and stops at my wrist. He does the same to the other side and my body gets used to the feeling. It tickles slightly but the brush he’s using is rough. He says he’s finished with the white and puts the pallet and brush down. “This could get pretty messy,” he states. “And we wouldn’t want me getting paint on my clothes,” he continues, starting to take off his hat and his tan sweater after. He leaves himself only in his white boxers, just like me, only in my dark blue lace panties. I shake my head at his cheeky behavior. “Maybe we
should let Ray know he can go back to the hotel. Wouldn’t want him waiting in the car all this time.”

All I can do is nod, completely lost in his actions. He grabs another paint bottle, the lightest blue that I own. Instead of the pallet, he squeezes it into his hand then puts his hands together, spreading the paint on the other. He looks at me adoringly with his pupils dilated and a smile creeping onto his lips. He moves behind me and nudges my arms, telling me to lift them up. I do so and when they’re up far enough, he snakes his arms underneath them and presses his hands against my breasts, leaving two blue handprints on each of them. “Harry!” I gasp.

He laughs and turns me around. “What?”

“You’re so cheeky!” I exclaim, looking down at his blue palms. “You’re too clean, too.” I add. Harry twists his face, confused by what I mean. It’s just not fair that I’m the only one who is covered in paint. I lunge toward him and press my chest on his, transferring some of the paint onto him. I wrap my arms around his neck and he gasps my name. He lifts me up in his arms and I wrap my legs around his waist. I join my lips to his and this one is much needier than the last. He bites my bottom lip before pulling away.

“Mmm, not done with you,” Harry hums. He puts me down and frowns. “You’ve messed up my artwork!”

I look down and I see that I’ve completely smudged the blue paint on my boobs and have managed to get some of it on my chest.

“This just won’t do,” he shakes his head. Harry’s long fingers wrap around the lilac paint and he smirks at me. Before I get to say anything, he squeezes the paint directly onto my chest.“My design is ruined so might as well just make a mess of you.” He shrugs.

“Only if you let me paint on you,” I compromise. I receive a small peck on my lips and he says okay. I smile, feeling giddy that I get to have some fun as well. I contemplate which color I want to start with and Harry has already decided on his next one. He’s going with a bright yellow and I pick up a darker purple than the one he put on me before. I squeeze a little on my finger and reach up to put lines under Harry’s eyes, resembling a football players game face. He laughs and says, “That’s the best you can do?”

I shake my head no. Before Harry does anything with the yellow paint he removes my underwear in the swiftest motion, I don’t even notice that they’re gone until his cold hands are placed on each of the cheeks. “Mm, just a little yellow to brighten the day,” he says. Twisting my back, I see the two yellow handprints left on my bum. It’s like he’s marking me.

“Fuck,” Harry says. “I can’t do it.”

I am staring at the ferns etched above his V line when he says this. I look up at his hungry eyes. “I just can’t do it, y/n,” he admits. “I wanted this to be fun. I just wanted to paint on you, but you’re so beautiful and I’m getting distracted.” He looks down. I look down. I hadn’t even noticed the bulge under his boxers.

“Oh, Harry,” I giggle while bringing myself closer to him. My palms meet his chest and I trace my fingertips over the birds. He hums into my ear and nibbles on the lobe. My knees feel weak but luckily Harry lifts me off of the ground and takes control. One arm is holding me up while the other is wrapped round my back and he grasps my hair in his hand. I snuggle in closer to him-if that’s even possible, and rest my forehead on his shoulder. He’s backed me up against the wall and he pulls my hair so we can be face to face. A wet kiss is left on my neck and he kisses my jawline, teasing me at the corner of my lips until finally pressing his own to mine. He parts his lips and I take this opportunity to stick my tongue in his mouth. He never lets me have this much control and I don’t think he ever will. He pushes mine away with his own, and resorts to biting my bottom lip as punishment. Our breathing is heavy and our skin is hot, thanks to the thermostat that quickly warmed the small flat.

“Y/n, baby,” Harry begs. I kiss him harder, shutting him up. However, he pulls away. “You’re so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?”

“You’re beautiful too,” I smile. He puts me down and his boxers come along with me. They stop at his thighs and I pull them down, kissing his thigh tattoo as I do so. I take him in my hand but Harry pulls me up before I get to do anything. I look at his face and he shakes his head.

“All about you, love. I want this to be all about you,” he tells me. I want to argue, but I also don’t want to do anything. “I want to taste you,” he says. I nod. I nod vigorously.

He lifts me up again and takes us over to one of my work tables and I internally grimace as my bum touches the dirty surface. Ugh, Harry why this table? He’s looking at my body with such fascination, I can’t help but watch him watch me. His right hand glides across my stomach and moves down until he reaches my thighs. I groan at his slowness. I’m so needy for him, I’m so dependent on his touch. He uses both of his hands to push my thighs apart and his elbows rest on either side of them. He kisses the inside of my thigh, trailing all the way up to my core and two unexpected fingers slip inside me. I’m suddenly finding it a lot harder to watch him, my eyes threatening to close with each pump of his fingers. Harry’s face settles in between my thighs and his tongue teases every part of me. I pray he doesn’t stop. I bite my lip in hopes of holding in a moan. He looks up at me and pulls away just enough for him to be able to speak but he fingers don’t stop. “What have I said about biting that, hmm? Moan, baby. Let the whole building know how good I make you feel.”

I do as he says and release my lip from my teeth. An immediate moan escapes my parted lips and Harry grins. He continues to pump in and out of me while his thumb remains outside, rubbing the spot above my entrance. I call his name out, begging for more. He laps his tongue around my folds and I writher under his touch. My legs begin to shake but he refuses my arrival by pulling away. “Not yet, baby.” He says, taking my leg behind the knee with his left hand. His lips meet with mine when he unexpectedly yet slowly thrusts inside of me. He lets out a low groan as he finally gets the relief he’s been needing. He quickens his pace and holds my back up with his hands, pulling our chests together. I bite into his shoulder, feeling so close to where he’s trying to get me. There isn’t any way we could possibly get closer yet Harry still manages to grip me tighter. His other hand is everywhere, as are his lips.

Y/n, fuck,” he gasps. I feel his back tense under my hands, and I claw at his skin. His thrusts are harder, needier, rougher. His thrusts become pounds which makes me scream but I don’t know if it’s out of pain or pleasure. Maybe pleasureful pain. His hand slips down in between my legs and rubs ferociously. His lips find mine in a feverish approach to pleasure me even more. He’s nearing his high and I’m nearing mine. Everything is pulsing, my heart is threatening to leave my chest. “Let it go, love. Come for me. Come on, kitten,” Harry encourages.

“Harry,” I mumble out, squeezing my eyes shut as I come. This could be the first, this could be the hundredth, but every time, Harry makes me feel like I’m flying. I’m weightless in his arms and I beg him to release. “Come, Harry. I know you’re close, God your cock feels so good. Come in me, please.”

He continues thrusting and leaves scattered kisses along my neck. “Y/n,” he breathes. His legs shake and his movements weaken. “God, y/n.” Soft lips are touching my own and he stills himself, despite the tremors quaking throughout his back and legs. He sighs into my neck and bites down softly. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, still tense. Still pressed inside me. His breaths are shallow and rapid. He pulls out of me and I sigh.

“Harry,” I begin, grazing my nails along his skin. He kisses my lips tenderly and presses his forehead to mine. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” he replies and backs away from me, looking at my painted body. “I told you I’d make a mess of you.” Harry laughs while bending down to grab my bra for me. The paint has crusted over and I can’t wait to wash it off of me, though I have a feeling Harry will want to do that for me.

My wet hair is wrapped in a towel while Harry and I are sprawled on the couch watching reruns of friends. His wet hair has drenched my (his) t shirt since he decided to lay his head on my stomach. My palm rests on his chest, rising and falling with every breath. “Are we more like Ross and Rachel or Monica and Chandler?” he asks.

“Definitely Monica and Chandler,” I state. “Ross and Rachel were so off and on, you know? But like, Monica and Chandler were friends first, never thought they’d be together but they’re hands down the best couple.”

Harry nods in agreement. “I’m tired.”

“Hmm, you should be.” I glance at the clock. 2:34. “Go to sleep, babe.” I insist. It’s not unusual for us to fall asleep on the couch but Harry slowly gets up and looks at me with tired eyes. He grabs my hand and pulls the two of us off of the couch. I turn the tv off before he drags us to my bedroom. Immediately, he flops on the bed, not even bothering to get in. “Oh c'mon, Haz.” I nudge him. “Just a little more energy to get you into bed.”

“No,” Harry resists, snuggling his head deeper into the pillow.

I attempt to pull the sheets out from under him. Successfully doing so, I try lifting up his heavy legs to push them under the comforter. He mumbles something I can’t decipher. Though it’s probably just a complaint about me trying to get him into bed. God, it’s like taking care of a child. “Okay, baby,” I say, pull the sheet up to his shoulders and I crawl in on my side. I’m not even in bed when Harry’s arm reaches for any part of me pull me close to him. He manages to grab my torso, completely letting me mold into his position.

We both fall asleep rather quickly, but his hushed snores arrive before mine, though I’m positive I don’t snore. Harry says otherwise. Even though I think he’s lying he says it doesn’t matter if I actually snore or not because he says I’m perfect either way. Perfect, perfect, perfect. He’s always telling me how perfect I am and every day I look at him and wonder how I could’ve been so damn lucky to have this man in my life.

He says I’m the best artist that ever was, but a painter will get nowhere without their inspiration.


[authors note • pretty please send requests/ prompts :) thank you for reading!!]


Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Story Prompt: What if you got an alert on your phone every time someone thought of you? What if the alert told you what that person thought of you?

Originally posted by bangtanroyalty

[Not my gif]

Summary: A mysterious app appears on your phone and you can’t seem to get rid of it. You discover that it notifies when someone thinks of you, and one fateful day, you accidentally send Yoongi to the nurse’s office.



You knew this would happen eventually. You were careful of your image after you learned what the app does, but you couldn’t stop yourself from crashing into the lead basketball player, Yoongi. Everyone was there, watching you humiliate yourself in front of one of the highest ranked students. 

Heat rushed up to your face as you quickly avoid eye contact with him, apologizing repeatedly. You not only bumped into him, but at your velocity, had managed to completely knock him to the floor. 

And maybe he had to go to the nurse after that.

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Make A Wish (3/4)

Stuck in the Enchanted Forest after her wish was granted, Emma seeks out Killian. She doesn’t expect what she finds.

Endless thanks to @caprelloidea for reading over this for me.

Rating: M

Word count: 5002

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

AO3 | FF.net

Killian’s fingers never leave Emma’s skin. It’s as though he can’t decide where he wants to touch her, first brushing her hair from her forehead before his knuckles caress her cheek, drifting down over her collarbone before sliding under the covers to lightly trace nonsense patterns across her bare back.

It’s one of Emma’s favorite things about him, how he becomes so soft in intimate moments like these. Even before he remembered her it was the same, the way he let her hold his hand, the way he kissed her back when she took a chance and pulled him to her. She closes her eyes and rests her cheek to his chest, falling into the feeling, the only sounds his steady heartbeat under her ear and the faint crackling of the fire.

She touches him too, her thumb painting circles over his chest before sliding her hand over his shoulder and down his arm. He sighs when she wraps her fingers around his blunted wrist and she loves that about him too, that he’s vulnerable enough to let her do this. Someday she’ll work up the courage to ask if anyone had touched his bare wrist before her. She suspects not, but it’s such a delicate thing, the way he feels about it. Sometimes it’s all bravado but in others she can see the insecurity there, all the subtle little looks and playful self-deprecating comments he thinks she doesn’t notice. In the meantime she settles for grabbing his hook whenever she can, for holding his wrist like it’s nothing because it truly is for her, for making him forget and telling him she loves him.

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aquarpisc  asked:

Hi, my birthday is February 19th and I'd love something along the lines of enemies to lovers Modern AU (smut) if that's possible. Thank you so much to all the authors who contribute!! <3

Originally posted by butteryplanet

Wishing you a wonderful birthday! To start you days off right, the always delightful @appleblossomgirl0305 has written this perfect bit of Everlark, just for you! Enjoy!


Rating: M/E

Trigger warnings: Logging operations? Heights? The mating habits of quail?

A/N: Happy birthday! I hope all of your birthday wishes come true! Never-ending gratitude to @xerxia31 for helping in every way possible.

Peeta hunkered down in his chair, swiveling away from the opening of his cubicle. He had two immediate problems; his editor was looking for him and he was hungover. Again. Plutarch Heavensbee was hard to take on a normal day, but with a blazing headache and already sour stomach, Peeta feared the consequences of a run in this morning.

“Damn,” he muttered, sucking a sharp whistling breath as he burned his tongue on his scaldingly hot coffee. Why did the little kiosk in the entryway always insist on making horribly weak, but ridiculously hot coffee? Maybe a better question was why he continued to buy it. But every time he walked into the chrome and marble opulence of the Capital Media Corps foyer, with its twenty stories of frantically busy, hungry machine of information and commerce looming above him, he felt like an imposter. He felt like every silk-shirted woman in her clackity-clacking heels determinedly running to the next important story, each shiny-shoed, cuff-linked man barking into his cell phone that he “needed it yesterday, dammit!” could tell he didn’t really belong there. That he was a small-town boy from District 12 who still dreamt of his parent’s bakery, cinnamon and dill-scented tendrils curling through his dreams.

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some mushy crewt first kisses

cus i’m a massive sook and i can’t decide definitively what it would be like, so you get several 

- something wonderful has just happened, something big and exciting; maybe a near-extinct species just pulled itself back from the brink. maybe a sick creature made a miraculous recovery. whatever it is, newt is overjoyed, his face lit up like a christmas tree – he spins credence by the shoulders, crowing with delight, look! we did it! and then in a flurry of excitement, without really meaning to, newt kisses him. just grabs him and kisses him right on the mouth. 

for several seconds afterwards they’re both stunned. newt really hadn’t meant to, he’d been so careful not to do anything he didn’t think credence would want, not to push him beyond his comfort zone and he hadn’t even considered whether he’d look at him in that way, and he might have just cocked up quite spectacularly, and he starts to apologise – “credence, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to, i would never put you in that position-” – but credence is looking at him as if he’s just seen starlight for the first time. eyes wide and shining. that feeling of oh. there you are. and credence says, “do it again.” and he does.

- they’re standing face to face – quite close, as they often are these days, without quite being conscious of it. newt is tending to credence in some way; wrapping a scarf about his neck, or healing a scrape on his cheek he got while feeding the baby erumpents, or perhaps wandering too close to the occamy nest. credence is just watching him – it’s quiet, but comfortably.

“mr scamander?” he says, very soft, even though newt has told him a hundred times to call him newt. 

“hmm,” says newt.

“newt?” says credence. 

newt looks up, questioningly, and credence kisses him on the mouth, just like that. a soft, quick little peck. it leaves newt with this look of startled delight, but he doesn’t say anything, and that makes credence nervous, and he stutters, “w-was that alright?” 

and newt takes his face in his hands, and leans in so close they’re nose-to-nose. “of course it was,” he says, combing his fingers into credence’s hair at the back. “in fact,” he continues, softly, “you could do it again, if you like.” 

credence does. 


- newt kissing the palms of credence’s hands

- credence panicking thinking he’s fucked something up & automatically holding his hand out to be punished & newt taking it and just kissing it instead 

- credence giving newt shy little cheek kisses to say “thank you” or “good morning” or “i missed you” or just because he can

- when credence gets kissed he goes pink and ducks his head and bites his lips; when newt gets kissed he goes bright red and gets awfully flustered and loses his whole train of thought and does a lot of blinking and “oh um gosh goodness erm where was i again” 

- i need to end this post now it’s running away with me i’m sorry 

Waiting (Part Eight)

So this was supposed to be our last chapter. But as I was reading it this morning and doing some light editing before posting, things got a little out of control and I ended up rewriting it all and… well just read it. This fic definitely needs at least one more chapter. Hopefully you guys like where I took it.


Enjoy :)



Tony was curled up on the couch, holding one of Steve’s hoodies tight, looking stressed out even while sleeping, his brow furrowed with worry, bags under his eyes from too many late nights and not enough rest. The TV was still lit, some crap infomercial playing because it was pushing three am and nothing else was on. There were several water bottles scattered around, but no food and Steve could have cried because he knew that meant Tony hadn’t been eating.

“Oh Tony.” Steve’s heart broke a little and he set his bags down carefully so he wouldn’t wake him. “I’m so sorry this has been so hard on you.”

“This him?” Bucky’s voice behind him was low and soft and Steve nodded, rubbing over his soulmark anxiously.

“This is him. Tony. My soulmate.”

“He a better kisser than me?” Bucky peered down at Tony, his lips twitching in a smile at the rumpled hair and worn pajamas. “You know I gotta ask, Stevie. What did I say all those years ago?”

“I remember. He’s a better kisser than you. So much better.” Steve murmured, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “He’s everything you always told me I would find.” He took a deep breath as he brushed a lock of hair off Tony’s forehead, still trying to wrap his head around Bucky.

It was so amazing to have his best friend back again, standing next to him after all these years.

It hadn’t been easy, finding Bucky. It had been even harder to talk through all that brainwashing and conditioning to find Bucky under the Winter Soldier. But they had finally broken through and Bucky had cried the first time he looked up at Steve and recognized him for real.

Steve had cried when Bucky had grabbed him in a hug and sobbed Stevie into his chest over and over.

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Not That Bad

by varelsen

Pairing: Keith/Lance

Rating: M for smut

Genre: College AU with a hint of coffee shop AU, and heaps and heaps of fluff

Chapters: 12/12 {complete!}

Word Count: ~68000


“Am I really going to have to explain this to you?”

“No, I’m totally fine with you shutting up right about now.”

Hunk cups his hands around his mouth. “You. Are crushing. On Keith.”

Or, a college AU featuring coffee shops, silly rivalries, motorcycles, arcade games, friendships, and lots of warm, fluffy feelings that are both confusing and delightful all at the same time.

Read on AO3!


“Well, I guess, um, I was just wondering if it … what it meant. Not that I’m saying it had to mean anything! I just … I … well, you know.”

Oh god. What should he do?

“I just …” Keith’s throat is parched. “I wanted to. Kiss you. I guess.”

He is going to melt and be absorbed into the ground. What a dumb fucking thing to say! Although, he supposes, it is more or less the truth.

“Oh.” Was that … did Lance’s voice crack a little? “Uh …” And then Lance is turning to him, and his eyes are very wide, and he’s blurting, “Would you do it again?”

Read here!

anonymous asked:

Hello! If the requests box is still open, I would like to request a scenario of Sidon's crush arriving in the Zora Domain with Link on his journey while she has a cold from the constant rain? :) Thank you!

[A/n: here ya go, sweetums. :D]

It did not matter what kind of potions, fairies or food you had. As far as you knew it, you claim yourself incurable and were going to die from the pressure in your face.

Link glanced at you concerned, taking in your stuffy nose, and your bloodshot eyes. The past few days traveling to Zora’s Domain have not been easy while he had to take care of your coldriddened butt. He had to ward off bokoblins going after your incapacitated form, make sure your fever didn’t get too high and overall, listen to your complaints and how you were “dying”.

The trip would have been a breeze if you didn’t catch this forsaken cold from the rain, but like adding salt to a wound, it continued to rain the whole trip. All you could think of was how you wish to be in a regular bed and sleep for the next six months, but Link was adamant getting to the palace as quickly as possible.  

However, you were far too apprehensive about the whole thing. Every inch of your body was screaming from anxiety at the thought of Prince Sidon seeing you in such a way. You could guess that your face was swollen and you looked absolutely horrendous. You tried many times to convince Link to let you rest and wait it out, but in his own way he told you the faster you two got there, the better off you would be.

So now, here you were leaning against his back while riding Epona. You groaned just wanting to lay down, but once you saw the unique masoned towers renowned by the Zoras, your heart sank. There was no backing out now and Sidon would see you in a pitiful state. You could only wonder what he must be doing right about now.

Sidon waited patiently in the throne room beside his father and occasionally had to ignore his father’s light jests of the poor Prince’s nerves. He had received a letter from Link a few weeks ago announcing he will soon be visiting and Sidon’s heart about jumped from his chest seeing your name scribbled on the piece of paper you would be accompanying him.

He recalled spending the rest of the evening staring into space as he fantasize showing you around his kingdom. The usually high confidence he had was a stark difference to how he actually felt now.

He was nervous and a little more fussy than usual. After all, Sidon had been vying for you for some time now and whenever he got the chance to be around you, he felt himself clamp up. Each day that passed, his heart would thump a little stronger in anticipation for your arrival. He began to gear himself up and tell himself he would be the proud leader he was raised to be and show you everything he had to offer.  

Sidon had made an itinerary for you in hopes being over planned would help him shine, and once he heard the guards announce visitor’s arrival, his heart lodge itself in his throat and stood at attention. He anxiously awaited and once he saw Link step in, he couldn’t help ignoring his friend momentarily as his eyes fell on you.

Sidon’s stomach dropped seeing your weak form. You look like you been put through the ringer and not all to pleased to be here. Without hesitation, Sidon rushed to your side, briefly greeting Link before he grabbed you from the knight.

First off, when you have made your way up the stairs, the last thing you ever anticipated was Sidon lifting you up the moment he saw you. The rush of the motion swirled your brain around and you covered your face feeling ashamed you were ill.

“Goodness, [Name]! What happened to you! You should be in bed, not here!” Sidon’s voice rushed in pace with his own jogging. You were slightly shocked to see him ignore everyone else and whisk you off to Hylia knows where. Whatever you thought Sidon would think of you was pushed far back into your mind as you try to comprehend how terribly concerned  he was for your well-being.  

The next thing you knew, you were lying in a bed in a private room. Sidon was fussing about, running to one handmaid to the next to gather anything you might need. They eventually had to help him out as he was attempting to gather all medicines, linens, and what have you, by himself. To say you felt a little special would be an understatement while he placed a wet rag upon your forehead and then handing you water.

“Forgive me, the best thing you need right now is tea, but it will take a moment to prepare. I hope this will suffice in the meantime.” He spoke in a hushed tone.

You had to grab his hand that was attempting to fix your sheets to get him to calm down. “Sidon? Are you okay?”

He paused for a moment and it seemingly clicked just how overbearing he was being. He pulled back from his spot next to the bed and gathered himself. His shoulders were stiff as he stared straight at you. “Yes-” His voice cracked for a split moment, “Ahem…Yes. I sincerely apologize for my rash behavior. You do not look well at all and I suppose I let myself get carried away.”

You weren’t sure how to feel, but all you knew was that the small butterflies in your stomach evolve to a swarm. “No, no, you are fine. I am sorry I am imposing on you, I tried to tell Link I shouldn’t visit being unwell. And I was right-” You sighed, leaning back into the plump pillows. “I am so sorry to be a burden.”

“You have not and never will be a burden, my love! I am only concern for your health. You must know I am delighted to have your presence in my home!” Sidon retorted with such genuine enthusiasm that you almost missed what he just called you.

You sat for a moment and Sidon beginning to wonder why you were shocked, until he replayed his words in his head. He felt like his body was shot with an ice arrow and he attempted to keep a straight face, although the small hint of a blush betrayed him.

“What…What did you say?” You stuck a pinky in your ear, fearing your swollen sinuses just made you misheard him.

He tapped his thumbs together as he nervously gathered his thoughts. A moment passed before the Prince sighed, the small blush growing bigger, and he looked straight into your eyes. “The way I wanted to confess certainly did not involve this, but since I have let it slip I suppose I must admit… [Name], I wish to court you. I think you are a vibrant and extraordinary person, and I would be honored if you at least gave me the chance.”

He was curt and professional. Nothing less expected from a Prince, but it didn’t matter. You were in a state of shock and felt your face flush.



“Please ask me again when I feel better. I think my fever is making me delusional because it feels too good to be true..”

He only chuckled looking off the side bashfully, “I will ask you multiples times if that is what I have to do to.”

anonymous asked:

Sidney used to go to a wizarding school in Canada. When he was 14 and his Veela powers kicked in an older boy seduced Sid and then broke up with him a few days later after they had sex. Sid is so distraught he leaves that school and goes to Beauxbatons where he tries to isolate himself until finally the French Canadians wiggle their way into his life. When the tri-wizard tournament comes around Sid is very apprehensive about being around so many new students. (pt1)

Right off the bat people start hitting on him and he starts to break down a little and runs off to find a hidden place to calm down. He ends up near the banks of the lake where two Drumstrag boys are pushing each other by the water and yelling something about a squid. The boys notice Sid after a few minutes and Alex immediately starts hitting on Sid while the other is just shying away and laughing at his friends failed attempts to pick up. Over the next few weeks they all get very close. (Pt 2)

Finally, after weeks and weeks of subtle flirting Geno asks Sid to the Yule Ball. Sid thinks Geno is just doing it because of the Veela since plenty of people he’s never even talked to have already asked him to the ball. Genos heartbroken thinking Sid doesn’t like him and that all of his feelings aren’t reciprocated. So Sid and Geno both stay in on the night of the ball and Sidney is wondering why Geno didn’t just ask someone else and Geno confesses his feelings for Sidney. (Pt 4) (part 3?)

Sidney tries to tell him he only feels this way because of his Veela magic and Genos like “??? You’re a Veela??? You know Veela magic not work on giants right? I’m ¼ so magic would not work on me. ” And Sid’s like “you’re a giant? I guess the height makes sense now.” Anyways they kiss and then eventually bang and get married and have a million beautiful babies (fin)



“You’re a quarter giant?” Sidney says, a delighted laugh escaping him. “Veela charms don’t work on you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you know already,” Geno says, scooting closer and taking Sidney’s hand in his hesitantly. But Sidney doesn’t pull away. “Most smart student, not need me to explain.” Geno shrugs. “Clumsy English anyways, not good.”

“Geno,” Sidney says, surging forward to place a very small kiss to the corner of Geno’s mouth. “You’re perfect.”

Geno says nothing, but kisses Sid again. 

“Geno, Geno,” Sidney gasps out, as Geno mouths at his neck. “Geno, you love me? For real?”

“Love you for real,” Geno promises.


Geno swings Sidney around on the dance floor at their wedding, holding him close and nuzzling his now-husband’s flushed cheeks. 

“Geno,” Sidney murmurs. “Love you.”

“Love you for real,” Geno echoes, his heart so, so full. 


“They’re gonna be late for the train,” Sidney yells, running down the platform with his daughter. “I told you we should’ve set five alarms!”

Five? Sid, you crazy!” Geno scoops up his two first-year sons, one in each arm, and dashes for their compartment. 

Pa, you’re embarrassing us,” one of the boys whines, as parents and kids recognize the Quidditch star running like a madman and whispering excitedly among themselves “We can walk!”

“Should have gotten up earlier then, not be late,” Geno says, shoving the two onto the train after giving each two hurried kisses on their head. “Go, have fun, don’t get detention too much, learn something. Write a lot or Dad worry everyday.”

“Okay, okay!” the boys say. “Love you, Pa! Love you Dad!”

Their daughter, a fifth-year Slytherin, hugs Sidney and Geno with more elegance than her brothers had. “Love you. I’ll watch after them–”

“I know you will,” Sidney says. “I’ll see everyone at Christmas.”

Geno pulls Sidney in close and kisses his temple, muttering as if he’s out of breath, “I’m getting too old for this.”

Sidney laughs. “Remember when we did the same thing with Lili? She forgot to bring the cat and you had to–”

“–had to run back with cat, Lili crying and sticking her head out window. She pretend not ever happen.” He sighs. “Kids are a lot.”

“But you’re doing amazing with them,” Sidney says, kissing Geno’s jaw. “I love you.”

Geno rubs Sidney’s arm. “Love you for real,” he returns, as he always does. 

Then their sons stick their heads out the window, along with Lili. “Dads!” they scream. “Peter forgot his wand!”

What?” Sidney turns sharply at Geno, who had turned very pale. “What the fuck, G?”

Geno opens his coat and retrieves the wand in the lining of his jacket. “He give me because he not want to lose–”

Go!” Sidney yells, as the train starts to move slowly. “Run!”

Geno does.

Just Follow The Instructions

Wrote this yesterday before the Driving Lesson thingy and tada! Posting it today. Set in late season 8; Mulder gets some much needed help from Skinner.

A knock on the door freed Mulder from the horror also known as a Claire de Lune crib for the modern, stylish baby. He let go of the screwdriver, happily, and shuffled into the living room. Scully had been gone less than an hour, but he half expected her to come back and apologize. Or to hear him apologize. Either way, he was certain it could only be her. When he opened the door, a clever remark and a grin on his face, he did not expect to see that particular person.

“Sir.” Mulder cleared his throat and wiped the smirk off his face. He searched his mind for an excuse why he was in Scully’s apartment while she herself wasn’t home.

“Agent Mulder,” he shook his head, almost smiled, “Just Mulder I guess. Is Agent Scully home?”

“No, Sir, she’s not. I’m just here because, well, she… I-”

“Mulder, it’s fine. It’s never been my business what you do on your own time and you no longer work for the FBI so I care even less.” There was more he wanted to say, Mulder thought, but the moment passed. Not that Mulder was complaining. This was awkward enough.  

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“After I put up that crib.” Mulder grumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m putting up the crib,” Mulder explained realizing that this, just like Skinner had said, was none of his business and he probably didn’t even care, “for the baby.” He specified. Skinner nodded earnestly; Mulder knew that nod, had seen it often enough when he was still assigned to the Assistant Director.

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This is so rushed and short, but I couldn’t get @aina-p​‘s adorable AU picture out of my head. It’s so cute, and I would love to expand this into a multi-chap (or read a multichap of it someone else writes) given the time. It’s such a cute idea, I just had to get this down while my excitement was at its peak!

The scratched up ice stung Victor’s hands as he threw himself down for what must have been the fourth time in the past half hour. For a second as he sat there on the freezing ground, he questioned how things had gotten to the point where he, world-renowned figure skater Victor Nikiforov, was taking fall after fall in a rink.

“Are you okay?”

Ah, right. It was because of him.

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Good Vibrations (Harry Wells x Reader)

Rating: M (smut)

Summary: After an escaped meta accidentally gives Harry incredible speed, you are both sure to put these newly acquired powers to the test. In the best way possible.

Originally posted by theblackwook

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They say that the world was built for two

MP100 Valentines Week 
Day 7; Flowers

pairing: terumob

Story tag


To Reigen’s credit, when he opens his front door late on a Tuesday night, to be met with a disheveled and mildly-hysterical teenage esper – whose brilliant idea of a polite greeting is “Please I need your help I am losing my mind” – he doesn’t so much as bat an eye.

“It was only a matter of time at this point,” he says blandly, and stands back to let Teruki inside.

And now they’re sitting on the sofa and the armchair respectively; Teruki curls his fingers around his usual mug, breathing in the steam and the scent of sweet cocoa as it drifts up to him (and it’s amazing, he’s never had a usual anything at someone else’s home before). It’s calming, more calming than a warm drink and familiar cup have any right to be, and after he’s managed a few sips and a few deep breaths, Teruki no longer feels like he’s on the verge of drowning. 

Reigen is waiting patiently for him to sort himself out, but surely that won’t last much longer. “I’m very sorry for showing up like this,” he begins with, hesitantly lifting his eyes. 

Reigen raises a brow and gestures with his own mug for Teruki to get on with it already. Okay. Fair enough. He’s danced around the subject long enough.

Carefully setting his hot chocolate on the coffee table, Teruki folds his hands together on top of carefully crossed knees, and says, as painstakingly as he had rehearsed a hundred times, “I have feelings for – for your student. For Shigeo.”

The words take a weight off his chest as he parts with them.

It feels better than he thought it would. To say it out loud, where someone else can hear. 

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