no way would my hair do what i drew in the second one

“You Love Me?”

Title: “You Love Me?”

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Type: Platonic | Romantic | Familial | Other

Warnings: angst, profanity, mentions of aids, mentions of neglectful parents.

Prompt: F13: “you love me?” “You have no idea.”

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier.

You’d known him since your diaper days - toddling about together, plump thighs and sticky mouths, with both of your parents watching - your’s attentively, Richie’s listlessly, bored, looking as though they wanted to be anywhere other than watching their only child take his first steps.

Growing up, shared rattle toys became shared peanut-butter sandwiches or bright-coloured hairclips pilfered from your mother’s china dish. Richie loved to wear those hairclips, more than even you. He’d stick an assortment of them into his unruly web of dark curls, specks of pink and lime and chrome swathed in a brunette tide.

Richie had always been… spacey, almost. From the first time, in third grade, you could cross the road on your own (“be very careful, Y/n. Remember to look both ways, and stop and listen for any cars, and never, ever cross on a bend.”) Richie’s parents gave no such forewarning, and it was with cheery ignorance he sauntered right into the - albeit, quiet - road on Monday morning.

Your hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar in childish alarm. “What are you doing? We have to look both ways first!”

“Oh yeah,” he returned cheerfully. “I forgot.”

Brushing off your scandalised look, he pointedly craned his neck left, then right, and then took your hand in his and pulled you from the curb with no warning. You shrieked at him all the way over the asphalt, sure a car would come from nowhere and career into you. When you scrambled onto the sidewalk on the opposite side, you ripped your hand from a giggling Richie’s grasp.

“That wasn’t funny!” you said shrilly. “I told you, we have to be careful when we cross a road, else we’ll both be hit by cars!”

“What happens when you get hit by a car?” Richie countered thoughtfully, as the two of you began walking. You paused to think, chewing your lip.

“We end up flat as pancakes, and the police have to peel us off the road,” you eventually returned triumphantly, but if your aim was to deter Richie, it backfired.

“Cool! I want to be a pancake!” declared the boy enthusiastically, but you merely shot him a frosty look and dragged him through the school gates.

You were there when Richie got his glasses, and the teasing started. Sneering jibes of “four-eyes” were brushed off, kids asking how many fingers they were holding up deflected with ease. You worried for Richie, the sensitive soul that you were, but he only ever laughed about it.

You were there when his parents stopped calling when they weren’t going to come home that night. Before, it was apologetic phone calls (“Richard, sweetie, we’re so sorry, the most silly thing - your father enjoyed himself a little too much at the gathering, you know how he likes his currant wine, only we thought it best to stay at the hotel tonight.”)

You found him hunched up by the side-table where the phone stood. The house was dark and cold - the heating wasn’t on. Richie looked like he hadn’t moved in years, a statue gathering dust, huddled against the wood of the table. You flurried around, snapping the lights on, straining to reach the boiler on tiptoe and turning the dial all the way up before scooting over to Richie and crossing your legs anxiously.

“What’s wrong, Richie?” you inquired. “Where are your parents?”

A pure stab of shock flashed through you at his sudden sob. Tears dripped down his screwed-up face, and when he spoke, his voice trembled. “I don’t know.”

Eventually, after a few phone calls, it was discovered that they were in New Jersey for an open evening of his father’s business. Richie stared at you, stricken, as you solemnly recited what the lady on the phone had told you. “But why didn’t they tell me?” he whispered. You didn’t know the answer to that, so you hugged him instead. He smelled of apple suckers and loneliness.

You were there in fourth grade when Richie discarded his mismatched sweaters and jeans for bright eyesores of Hawaiin shirts and jean-shorts and colourful sneakers. He traded his thin, wiry black glasses for thick red ones that made his eyes looked three times their normal size (you noticed what a pretty brown those irises were, then). He was there when your love for rainbow ponchos and ballet skirts and bracelets with bells on them faded in favour of garish maroons and olives and navies, overalls and sandals and short-shorts. He still wore the hairclips, sometimes - the dark red one that was always his favourite. The rest he kept in a small pot under his bed, along with a photo of you and him grinning toothily in first grade, tucked safe under the velvet lid.

You were there when Henry Bowers, held back for the third year running, decked him for the first time. He called Bowers a “son of a motherless whore” - something impressive-sounding he’d overheard on TV - when he saw him laying into the tiny asthmatic kid from world history. It hadn’t ended well, and you ended up wiping the blood from his nose and lips and teeth. He smiled sheepishly as you scolded him, but his apology was real as the blood staining the tissues. And another plus - from that day, you had three new friends. Stuttering Bill and Eddie Spaghetti and Stan the Man. You five were united as outcasts, not exactly a force to be reckoned with but certainly one that required brief consideration before attempting said reckoning - or whatever.

And in fifth grade, Richie hit some sort of tipping point.

He grew louder and more foul-mouthed, more enthusiastic in his spastic movements, and far more inclined to disrupt a class or smoke in the toilets or flunk school entirely. Then the remarks filtered in - intrusive and suggestive, comments on your legs or your chest or your mom. It annoyed you to no end, but you could think of no way to make him stop. Every time you snarked him or socked him on the shoulder, it made him slightly wilder, a shit-eating grin cracking his face in two - until you remembered something you’d seen once on telly. A man and a woman, and the man talked a lot. Whenever he talked too much, the woman would press a big red button that made a loud “BEEP BEEP” sound.

So, when the next remark came - “Hey Y/n - you have any other hobbies, ‘cept for being my own personal bicycle?” - you stared him dead in the eye and countered solemnly, “beep beep, Richie.”

He gaped at you like a fish out of water, speechless for the first time in years. “Did - did you just - beep me?”

From then on, it seemed to work to shut him down.

But it wasn’t until four months ago - when Georgie went missing, and you met Bev and Mike and Ben, and IT chased normalcy from your life did things between you and Richie start to shift.

You wanted to be with him every second - he was the longest-standing memory you had, the boy with hairclips in his curls who watered your head like a flower the first day of second grade. He was the one who poked your cheeks and called you “bubs” and yanked your ponytail and drew obscene images on your hand in permanent marker. He was the one who spent 70% of his time sleeping round your house when the silence of his was unbearable, who held you sombrely when you cried and cursed at the toughest of bullies in your honour. Richie was, to say with a flair for the dramatic, your life - mapped out in dark hair and freckles and lime sneakers, your other half.

The first time you wanted to kiss him was after the blood oath.

You hissed in pain as you wiped your hands absently on your black shorts. Richie walked beside you, gazing at the jagged cut on his palm with avid interest.

“I swear you can get AIDS from doing shit like this,” Richie commented as the both of you reached your bikes discarded in the grass.

You huffed a laugh. “Probably - but don’t go telling Eddie that.”

“Please. He’d convulse and die on the spot,” Richie scoffed, swinging a leg over the leather saddle. “So, where’ll it be, sweetcheeks?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I’m kind of in the mood to not think about anything. You wanna head to the arcade?”

Two hours later, pumped up on blue-raspberry Slushies with fingers cramping from the buttons and levers you’d been busy stabbing and yanking, you and Richie sat in a greasy-spoon café, snacking out of a shared basket of cheesy fries as the sky darkened outside the window.

“What d’you think’ll happen now?” Richie asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” You swallowed your fries, reaching for your Pepsi to wash it down.

“Now IT’s dead. Kaput, bitch. No more missing kids, no more hallucinations, no more freaky fuckin’ clowns.” Richie heaved a sigh. “Cause I don’t think everything will just magically go back to the way it was.”

“No,” you mused in agreement. “No, you’re probably right.”

“‘Cept for us,” Richie beamed suddenly. “We’re inseparable, right?”

You grinned. “You bet, Tozier. For better or for worse.”

You looked at him - skin illuminated by the softly-glowing neon lights from the sign outside, the contours of his face sharply shadowed, hair a black, untameable mess as ever - and the urge to kiss him took you so fiercely, it almost knocked you off your chair. You swallowed your mouthful of fries too quickly in your shock, and one ended up dislodged in your throat. You choked and wheezed, and Richie unhelpfully thumped you on the back until you’d swallowed the damn thing.

“Jesus Christ,” he commented. “Y/n, if you wanted something to choke on, you could’ve just asked.”

A week ago, the comment would be met with an eye-roll; now it only made a flush climb your face, and you took a long swig of your iced Pepsi to ward off the redness.

The first time you actually kissed Richie Tozier was two months later.

It was midnight, but sleep troubled you not. You sat wide-awake, flat on your back and staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, when a sudden tap like long nails on wood made you start violently. Clambering to your feet, you glanced at your window; sure enough, a second later, a pebble hit the glass pane and bounced off again, and you sighed, picking your way over and opening it wide.

“Throwing pebbles, Romeo?” you called down teasingly. Richie glared up at you.

“Can I come up?”

You jerked your head in affirmation. At this point, your parents were so used to you going to bed alone and coming down in the morning with Richie, you didn’t even have to worry.

You slid the ladder out the window until it touched solid ground, then went back to your bed. A minute later, Richie’s face appeared at your open window, and he hauled himself in with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete.

You frowned as the scents of - was that wine? Wine and perfume - wafted in after him. He was also wearing a suit - a suit - but the illusion of whatever formality he’d been going for ended at his hair; looping black curls in total disarray, a soft tide of dark hair held back by a lone red hairclip.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” you eventually managed to choke out.

“My parents are home,” he answered non-communally. “And they decided to host a fucking mixer at our house tonight. So I was forced to wear this bullshit thing -“ he plucked at the suit in disgust “-and I only just managed to get away.”

“Wow.” Your eyes caught the red hairclip glinting amongst the soft web of dark curls. “I haven’t seen that thing in years.”

His hand skittered up to trace the clip absently. “My final act of defiance,” he chuckled weakly, before sinking down to sit on the carpet with heavy shoulders and clasped hands.

“Why are they such assholes, Y/n?” he asked suddenly. “I don’t know if I mortally offended them as in infant, or some shit like that - but even if I did, I still wouldn’t know, because they don’t talk to me. I don’t get it. Why have a kid if - if you’re not gonna-“ He waved his hands around in frustration, as if he could wring some meaning from the sentence if he hit at it enough.

“I don’t know, Richie,” you sighed, sliding off the bed and scooting closer until you sat toe-to-toe with the despairing boy. “I wish - I wish I could help you.”

Finally, he looked up; the tear tracks on his face glistened faintly as he smiled - not a smirk, or a shit-eating grin - a real smile that tore a hole in his chest and let all the dully-glowing fragments of the real Richie spill out for you to see. “You already have,” he answered softly.

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat. “But there’s gotta be more I can do. Damnit, Richie, I love you, so much and it fucking kills me to see you just - just take this shit.”

Richie stared at you, stricken. “You love me?”

You scoffed lightly, your face softening. “You have no idea.”

“But…” Richie was struggling to finish a coherent sentence. “Do you love me like - like the kid the split your granola bars with in second grade or do you love me like a…” Again with the wild hand gestures. “Y’know?”

A laugh bubbled through your lips. “Who says it can’t be both?”

As he opened his mouth to retort, you covered it with yours.

It was chaste and clumsy, but the chaps on his lips felt just right against the smoothness of yours, and the squeak of surprise he made at the embrace was swallowed. You could feel the heat of his cheeks and the flutter of his eyelashes and the firm beat of his heart all in that one, fleeting moment your lips touched.

And even as you pulled back, you felt him still. He was stammering in a way that’d give Bill a run for his money, but you could only smile.

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier - but right now was one of the rare, blissful seconds reality was better than dreams.

Mrs Willison’s Homemade Jam

by reddit user FamilialDichotomy

As a child, I was a picky eater like I assume most children are. As my parents tell it, my eating habits transcended normal childhood proclamations of “I don’t like broccoli!” and evolved into a refusal to eat absolutely anything of substance. Things other children might eat and enjoy like chicken nuggets, spaghetti, or even a hot dog were shunned by toddler me. It got to the point, they say, where they and my paediatrician became concerned for my health.

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Yuri on Ice interview translation - PASH! 2017/03 (p10-11)

The second part of the episode commentary by Mitsurou Kubo! I have now fixed it with all the italic & bold parts as in the magazine (in the magazine they are actually bold & bolder). If you have any questions please send me a private message and I’ll reply when I have some time.

You can find the first commentary about episodes 1-6 here.

Just a note: when she quotes lines from the episodes I’m not using any of the “official” English translations, I’m translating them as I would translate them myself, so they might not be like you are used to hear them, but I think you will understand which lines they are anyway.

The translation is under the cut because it’s long.

***If you wish to share this translation please do it by reblogging or posting a link to it***

***Re-translating into other languages is ok but please mention that this post is the source***

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Rent-a-Boyfriend™

Words: 12k
Genre: Extreme fluff for all you bitter people out there (me being included)
Read the sequel drabble: here
Read more at Service Series 

Cr.

Are YOU lonely? Need someone to cuddle at night? Do you want love?

If you said ‘yes’ to any of the questions previously mentioned then we have a service for you!

Don’t be alone for this Valentine’s Day!

Come Rent a Boyfriend!™

(terms and conditions may apply. we are not responsible for any emotional or sentimental damages. please take caution with rent-a-boyfriend).

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Mine (M)

Prompt: 💕 + Jungkook + “You have no idea what the fuck I’m capable of, babygirl.”

Pairing: Mafia boss! Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: bondage, slapping, killing (a little blood), Sir kink, humiliation, Dom! Jungkook, degrading names, begging, orgasm denial

Notes: For my (very late, i’m sorry) 3k present <3 I hope it’s good enough. 2.2k Words

Originally posted by jeonbase

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All I’ve got II pt. 1

Jungkook x reader

genre: tattooed!jungkook, badboy!jungkook, angst, contents of smut, violent actions, slight fluff

word count: 12.1k


Jeon Jungkook was a tall guy, handsome with all those ethereal artwork tattooed on his arms..and your best friend. He was by your side whereas you faced a painful heartbreak, caressing your hurt soul for as long as you needed him. But how much can a friendship withstand if one of the two develops feelings?

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⇁plums & melons | 02

Originally posted by parkejimins

pairing⇁Jimin x Reader

genre⇁drama, smut || brother’s best friend!au

warnings⇁public indecency, masturbation, dry humping, jungkook, things that shouldn’t happen in a closet, a brief mention of tentacle porn;;

word count⇁7.3k

The long time running game between you and your brother’s best friend started when you noticed his fascination with boobs—yours specifically. It was never supposed to amount to more than harmless flirting and lingering glances, but now, one year later, Jimin was ready to change that.

alternatively: Jimin and you play a game. the loser is fucked. metaphorically. literally. all the above??

01 || 02 

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Criminal (m)| one-shot

Originally posted by nnochu

Pairing| Jungkook x Reader

Genre| Smut

Word Count| 5,168

Summary| As a rogue werewolf, you know the dangers of trespassing on a pack’s territory, but you don’t really have a choice.

A/N| Here is the better-edited reupload of Criminal! Hope you all enjoy~


You hadn't planned on getting caught. You had hoped for the exact opposite, actually.

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Forget me not

Thaaaaank you @alwaysfangirly!! 💖 And omg, you’re so kind! And so patient! Because this took me forever and you were so sweet about it! 💖 I hope you like what I did with it! (Even though it might be kinda messy and confusing…) Oh, and I also posted it on AO3, because… well, once more, it turned out longer than I intended…



“Pansy, where was I yesterday?”

“What?”

“What was I doing? Did you see me talking to anyone?”

Draco paced the length of the eighth year common room, feeling Pansy’s intent stare on him.

“Those are really odd questions to ask. Have you lost your mind?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Draco muttered, stopping in front of the fireplace. “I think someone obliviated me. No, I am sure someone obliviated me.”

He heard Pansy get off the armchair and walk over to him.

“Are you sure? Why would someone do that to you?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Draco growled.

“But how can you be sure you’ve been obliviated? I mean, isn’t the point of obliviating someone that they… well, forget?”

Draco scratched the back of his neck, nodding absentmindedly.

“Something just felt off when I woke up this morning. I was sure it was Wednesday but then I saw the Daily Prophet and realised it was already Thursday. I remember everything until Tuesday night and waking up today. But if I try to think about what happened yesterday, my mind just goes blank. I’ve been racking my brain all day long. It’s the only explanation, Pansy. I-”

Draco stopped in his tracks when he saw Potter enter the common room. Something was… weird about him today. He didn’t look at Draco. He hadn’t looked at Draco all day. He always looked at Draco. He probably thought it went unnoticed but, of course, Draco noticed. He always stared right back whenever Potter briefly averted his eyes. Always. But why was Potter avoiding his gaze today?

“Potter!” Without a moment’s hesitation, he strode over to the Gryffindor.

“Hey Malfoy,” he mumbled, his eyes on the carpet.

“Potter, is there something you want to tell me?” Draco inquired, lowering his head to catch the other boy’s eye.

“No?” the Gryffindor said, his voice slightly shaking.

“I think there is. Out with it, Potter! Something happened yesterday, I know it.”

“You do?” Potter said in astonishment, finally looking up. His eyes were full of wonder and… apprehension. “But you shouldn’t-” He broke off, pressing his mouth into a thin line.

“I shouldn’t what?” Draco said, stepping closer and narrowing his eyes. “Remember? You did it, didn’t you? You were the one who obliviated me.”

Potter was trying very hard to keep a straight face, but Draco saw right through him.

“The question is,” he said slowly, lowering his voice, “why did you do it?”

Potter closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

“I’ve been feeling guilty about that all day. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Then why did you?” Draco asked.

“I panicked, okay? I didn’t do it on purpose. It was like a reflex.”

Now Draco simply had to know what had happened the day before. This sounded serious.

“Show me,” he said, grabbing Potter by the wrist.

“How-”

“There’s got to be a Pensieve around here somewhere,” Draco muttered, already dragging Potter out of the common room.

“There is, actually,” Potter mumbled behind him.


Draco looked around the memory he and Potter had just dived into. They were in the dungeons and class had just started.

“Professor, why are you showing us Amortentia again?” one of the students asked, sounding more eager than annoyed.

“Because,” Professor Slughorn said with a smile, “I want you to brew an antidote today. So everyone take a quick sniff to get in the right mood and get started.”

Draco frowned as he watched himself go into the storage room, apparently ignoring Slughorn’s instructions. His eyes then fell on Potter, Pensieve-Potter to be precise, who stood in front of the cauldron full of Amortentia. Granger and the Weasel were standing beside him, grinning at each other. It was disgusting.

“What do you smell, Harry?” the Weasel asked. Potter blinked.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, we’re your friends. You can tell us,” the Weasel insisted, elbowing him.

“No, Ron, I literally smell nothing,” Potter muttered, sounding genuinely surprised.

“That’s strange,” Granger chimed in.

“Yeah.” Potter creased his eyebrows. “I would have thought-” He stopped abruptly as Draco, well, Pensieve-Draco, came into view again, locking eyes with him.

“Professor, have you ever heard of anyone who doesn’t smell anything? In regards to Amortentia, I mean.”

“Hermione,” Potter growled through gritted teeth.

“What, she didn’t say it was you,” the Weasel shrugged. Potter slapped a hand to his forehead and Draco saw himself smirk.

“You don’t smell anything, Potter? That’s pretty pathetic.” When Pensieve-Draco simply strutted back to his desk and began chopping his ingredients, the real Draco frowned.

“So that’s the big secret? This is why you obliviated me?” he asked.

“Wait for it,” Potter mumbled. Was Draco imagining it or were Potter’s cheeks turning a bit rosy? He was biting the inside of his cheek, too, and constantly shifting his weight. He was nervous.

Intrigued, Draco watched as the class proceeded without significant interruptions.

When Slughorn dismissed them and students started hurrying out of the classroom, Draco tapped his foot impatiently. He paused when he saw his past self purposely bump into Potter, causing the Gryffindor to drop all his books.

Smirking to himself, Pensieve-Draco bent down to help Pensieve-Potter pick up his things, quickly scanning the room. They were the only ones left.

“So, you really didn’t smell anything?” Draco heard himself ask. Pensieve-Potter just scowled at him. Draco could see what Pensieve-Potter obviously didn’t; Pensieve-Draco was disappointed. “Nothing at all?”

Getting up, Pensieve-Potter slammed down his books on the desk nearest to him.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I used to smell… something. So you can save your taunts about-”

“What is that?” Pensieve-Draco suddenly asked. Potter had been draping his Gryffindor scarf around his neck but had halted at the Slytherin’s outburst. The real Draco watched closely as his past self stretched out a hand and examined the scarf.

“What is it now?” Pensieve-Potter said, sounding irritated but also slightly nervous. “It’s my scarf.”

Pensieve-Draco slowly shook his head as he drew out his wand.

“No, something is off.” He pointed his wand at the scarf and before Potter could protest or interfere, he had mumbled, “Revelio.”

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Sunday Morning

Summary: A young man and a young woman run into one another on a Sunday morning at a coffee shop, both of them heartbroken, and rediscover what it means to love and be loved. Bucky x Reader 

 Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this one for a bit. It’s basically the feel-good romance no one ever expected me to write (me included) 

 Words: ~2900

Originally posted by writingandcoffeehouse

Bucky used to love Sunday mornings. They were meant for sleeping in, for curling against the soft, tender body that slept next to him.

They’d had five years of Sunday mornings, of her soft sighs in his ear as she stirred from her sleep, bright green eyes blinking sleepily up at him as he kissed her plush, pink lips. Five years of Sunday mornings, of making coffee in a pair of boxers; of her arms wrapping around him from behind, a soft cheek against his bare back. Five years of Sunday mornings, of sitting at the breakfast bar in their pajamas, her thumb wiping jelly off the corners of his mouth.

Five years of Sunday mornings, wasted.

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Tricky*

Pairing: Bearded!Steve Rogers x Reader
Rating: Mature
Summary: Reader admires Steve shaving his beard and wants to finish the job herself.
Word Count: 1.8k
Genre: Fluff/NSFW-ish
Warnings: ambiguous relationship, Steve being a sarcastic bastard, flirting, innuendos/suggestive themes, sexual tension and light hair pulling.
Author’s Note: it’s inspired by a conversation with a friend about Bearded!Steve in Avengers: Infinity War. The second gif below is from the shaving scene between Moneypenney and Bond in Skyfall, which you all need to watch because… dayum!

   Verona, Italy

As you opened the door of your hotel room, you popped your head out; looking at either side of the corridor a little while after the breakfast had been served. Seeing no one on the perimeter, you tied your robe around your waist and closed the door behind you.

Tiptoeing, you went across the hall. You reached the door of the partner you’d been assigned for this mission and carefully knocked. As you distinguished the familiar sound of his footsteps in the room, you glanced behind you to make sure no one was watching you. The same move you’d been making for the last few days.

Steve opened the door enough for you to see him holding his shield. He let his guard down, smiling as he saw you. You took notice of the only towel he wore around his narrow waist, his hair damped and messy like he’d been drying them before you’d interrupted him.

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anonymous asked:

Hey it's the Disney anon! Yeah I meant sort of live action BATB cause I love the Bucky fic you did😊 So if it's something you'd be happy to write for can I request a reader x gaston fic where they grew up together and she is in love with him but is convinced it isn't mutual & that he deserves better so doesn't tell him. Another guy asks her out & she accepts cause she thinks she should move on if gaston will never love her. But Gaston actually gets super jealous/possessive. Hope it's ok thanks❤

Pairing: Gaston x Reader
Fandom: Disney ; Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Warnings: /

A/N: asdfghjkl, I’m so glad you send me this request, I literally grinned so hard when I got it! I don’t normally post two things a day, but I literally had the easiest time writing this. This prompt gave me so much inspiration that I just typed it in one go and I’m actually quite happy with how it turned out. I hope you like it as well and if you have any other gaston x reader request please send them my way. I LOVE writing for him and the reader. (added Gaston to my fandoms list)

                                                           *****

“You’re staring again,” LeFou, who had seemingly snuck up on you, whispered.

You blinked a few times to break the spell you were under before and turned around, wanting to convince him that, no, you weren’t staring at Gaston like a fool in love. 

But the look he threw you was enough to know that it wouldn’t work on him.

“It’s not like I don’t understand. And I’m certainly not the one to judge you,” he winked at you and you had to laugh a little. “But what I don’t understand is why you don’t tell him. You’ve known each other for so long..”

“Oh LeFou. If only it were so easy. Look at him..-” he was currently chasing Belle again. “He doesn’t feel the same and I doubt he ever will. He needs a woman who cooks for him and plays the good wife. You and me both know that I’m not that kind of woman.”

“Neither is Belle! Which is why he fancies her! So what makes you different?”

“I’m a huntress, LeFou. Belle and me are completely the opposite of each other. If she’s his type then I’m most certainly not.”

“She’s beautiful. That’s why she’s his type. And do I need to remind you of your beauty?”

You sighed and turned around to face your friend, smiling a little, then hugging him.

In the meantime, Gaston gave up for today in chasing Belle and approached the two of you.

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anonymous asked:

writing prompt: a messenger/guide shows up in your house asking you to travel to his magical world to help save their kingdom, but he seems surprisingly unenthusiastic about it, almost resentful/bitter

“–so we need you, oh chosen one, to come and save us,” Gregory finishes. He’s still looking at the corner of the room where you’ve hung a wisteria and hasn’t made eye contact since giving you his name. He never asked for yours.

You feel distinctly uncomfortable, sitting on the couch with your hands folded neatly in your lap. You’re still in your work clothes, black pants and t-shirt the hair salon requires, and you’ve counted at least three different types of hair on you since Gregory’s explanation began. Compared to Gregory’s armor, jaunty hat, and formal footwear, you are very underdressed.

“Um,” you say, “no.”

Gregory rises and sighs heavily. “Oh, thank you, chosen one, we are forev–” He breaks off, eyes finally dropping to meet yours. You see that his eyes aren’t light green like you thought. They’re yellow. “No?”

Yeah,” you say and try to brush the grey, three-inch long hair from your left knee. Ms. Simpson’s, you think. She’d gotten a healthy trim. “No.”

“Is it because you’re not magic?” Gregory asks, looking down his hooked nose at you. “Because I thought I did a good job explaining that, in my world, you are magic and–”

“It’s because that sounds hella dangerous,” you say. You shrug sheepishly. “I’m not really looking for a fast way to die so…” You shrug again.

“I told you that that’s what I’m for,” Gregory says irritably. “I’ll protect you from Lord Deigh’s henchman as you search for the lost heir. I’m your guard.”

You squint at him. “It doesn’t seem like you particularly want to be my guard, dude.”

Gregory, tellingly, says nothing.

Keep reading

Damen/Laurent Rec List

Because @playingfetchwithdinosaurs was finally seduced into reading this amazing series and then she came to me because she needed more. Also, coincidentally, @notagoodplace4gods finished yesterday CP, but told me only today that she was freaking out over their love and she needed more so here I am giving more to them ;)

💖: my absolutely favorite stories about those Kings

Canon AU

In the Gardens by JustDrinkTea 2,101

“I doubt your disappearance would go unnoticed,” Laurent countered, head tilting slightly. He was teasing. Damen couldn’t get enough of it.

“Is that an excuse to not go?”

“It’s a challenge.”

💖 Sent Away by Josselin [Part 1 of Sent Away] 2,504

A series of vignettes of young Laurent’s life when he is sent to be fostered in the Akielon court.

Courtship by songofthe52hertzwhale 5,425

Damen just wants to court Laurent. Nobody in Vere makes it easy for him, least of all the man he hopes to marry.

💖 Dear Aledosia, by wendlaa 12,368

“Oh,” Laurent finds himself saying. Damianos has excused himself from his conversation, and has begun to make his way through the crowd. Here stand the Princes of Vere, after all. The ethereal Veretian Prince brothers. Laurent lifts his eyes towards the ceiling, arching his brows. “Heavens,” he says, voice tight.

Auguste chuckles. “You have a minute head start.”

Laurent ducks away.

Keep reading

The One Where Everybody Finds Out

this took me about five hours appreciate this (based on the Friends episode obviously)


Hermione and Pansy were sitting at the bay window talking about unimportant things. The feud between the Gryffindor and Slytherin ceased to exist after the war and especially after the eighth years got stuck in one space together. This happened, of course, when they found there was not enough room for the eighth years in their respective common rooms (though Hermione always had the sneaking suspicion that Professor McGonagall just wanted more inter-house unity).

Their meaningless conversation suddenly stops when Hermione gets up to retrieve a book she left by the fireplace. Pansy stared out across the quidditch pitch where she noticed two boys get off their brooms. She immediately recognized them as Harry and Draco. “Hey, look it’s Harry and Draco.” She called out to Hermione. They were extremely close, but Pansy blamed that on the distance she was looking at them from. She saw Harry slither his arm around Draco and pull him closer so their chests were touching. “Ahh!” Pansy exclaimed at the action.

“What?” Hermione ran back, a worried expression settled on her face.

“Ahh! Harry and Draco! Harry and Draco!” She pointed in their direction where Harry had just looked around the field before snogging Draco vigorously. “Oh my eyes!” She looked away as if she just saw something purely revolting. “My eyes!”

Hermione attempted to calm her down by yelling over her. “No Pansy, it’s okay! It’s okay!”

“They’re kissing!” She yelled, still in a state of panic.

“I know! I know!” Hermione exclaimed, yelling louder so that Pansy would hear her.

“You know!” She yelled back, incredulously.

“Yes, I know! And Ron knows, but no one else does so you have to stop screaming!” Hermione recalled the day when she opened one of Harry’s letters by mistake. It was the most horrible thing she’d ever read in her life and she didn’t dare repeat those words to anyone. That is until Ron gave hints that he knew what was going on, so Hermione being Hermione, forced the truth out of her boyfriend and found out that he had caught them snogging in their shared dorm room a while back. Neither of them have spoken about the two boys being in a relationship since.

Just then Neville walked through the entrance to the empty common room. “Hey, what’s going on?” Both girls screamed in surprise, but Hermione turned it into joyus yelping while Pansy stood behind her with a look of shock still on her face.

Hermione jumped around Neville so that he had to turned and was no longer facing the window where, as Pansy looked back, the two boys were still trying to suck each others faces off. “Nothing! We’re just so happy that exams are over!”

Neville’s face softened now that he was assured that there was no danger present. “Yeah, we’re all pretty hap-” But as he turned to meet Pansy, she mimicked the jumpy excitement of Hermione so that he was, again, facing away from the window.

Both girls were jumping up and down and yelping in excitement until they were sure their friends had finished their make out session. They stopped abruptly and were thankful that no one else walked into the common room while they were in that state of chaos. The girls sat back down at the bay window, which left a confused Neville standing in the middle of the room.

Once they common room was empty again, Pansy launched into questions about the couple. “So you mean all those times that Draco and Harry said they were studying or when Draco said he was owling a friend from Beauxbatons?”

Hermione nodded and sipped the tea that she conjured for the both of them. “Yup. Doing it and writing dirty letters to each other.” Hermione shuddered at the thought of the letter she read that led to her discovery of their relationship.

“I can’t believe it!” She exclaimed for what seemed the thousandth time today. “I think it’s great… for Harry.” She took a sip of her tea. “Draco might be able to do better.” Pansy stated honestly. They heard the common room door opened and whipped their heads around only to see Ron walk in. They both let out breaths of relief as Hermione called him over.

“Guess what? Pansy just found out about Draco and Harry.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “You mean how they’re friends and nothing more?” His voice was laced with panic.

Hermione paused of a moment while she drew in a breath. Sometimes she found Ron’s slowness on the uptake endearing, however sometimes it tested her patience. “No, Ron she knows. They were on the Quidditch pitch and she saw them snogging through the window.”

Ron’s face relaxed, which told Hermione that he understood the situation.

“Okay wait,” Pansy interrupted. “So they know that you know,” She pointed at Ron. “but they don’t know that Hermione knows?”

He looked confused by the phrasing of the question and had to think for a moment before answering. “Yes, but none of that matters now. Now enough of us know that we could just tell them that we know, and all the lying and the secrets will finally be over!” He said happily.

Pansy interrupted again, this time a smirk playing on her lips. “Or we could not tell them and have a little fun of our own.” Hermione scrunched up her face in confusion and Ron’s face fell into a deep frown. “You know, every time they say they’re going to study you could give them some of your favourite books to read so you’ll have someone to discuss it with.”

Hermione’s face lit up. “Oh! I would enjoy that!”

“No, wait wait, you know what would be even more fun?” Ron asked with mock interest. “Telling them.” He switched his tone to a serious one.

Hermione considered this for a moment. “Yeah, no. I wanna do Pansy’s thing.”

Ron started to protest, but Pansy spoke up. “You don’t have to do anything. Just don’t tell them that we know.”

“No!” Ron yelled desperately. “I can’t take anymore secrets! I got your secrets. I got their secrets. I got secrets of my own, you know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You don’t have any secrets.”

“Oh yeah?” Ron straightened up, looking offended. “Well, you don’t know about Marvin, my secret sweets stash.” He looked satisfied for only a seconded until the realization hit him and his face glowed as red as his hair.

Pansy and Hermione stared at him, weird looks on both their faces. Hermione turned back to face Pansy and cleared her throat. “So… How- how are we gonna mess with them.”

“Well, you would use your position as the best friend obviously.” They heard Ron gasp in protest, Pansy ignored him and went on. “And I would use the strongest tool at my disposal, my charming good looks and elegance.” Hermione nodded her head in agreement. Ron looked like he had given up all hope.

“Hello, children.” Harry greeted as he waltzed up to them. Hermione gave Ron a wary look. They two girls greeted him back cheerfully while Ron did so in a more morose way.

Pansy smirked at Hermione and Ron. “Watch and learn.” She said while Harry was still out of earshot. She stood up rather seductively and made her way over to him.

“Hey.” She said and looked him up and down. “Wow, that Quidditch uniform looks great on you.”

“Really?” Harry asked, confusion struck his features. 

“Yeah, the material looks so soft.” She laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder and trailed it down his arm like she saw Draco do earlier. “Oh, hello, Mr. Bicep.” She bat her eyelashes innocently. “Have you been working out?” She twirled her hair on her finger.

Harry looked uncomfortable. “Well, you know… Quidditch.” Pansy launched into a fit of giggles and shoved him lightly. “Are you okay?”

She stopped giggling and smiled softly at him. “Well, if you really wanna know…” Pansy looked down at the floor, shyly. “Oh, I can’t tell you this.”

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but you can tell me anything. We’re friends now.” He looked concerned.

Bloody Gryffindors. “Actually, you’re the one person I can’t tell this to and the one person I want to the most.” The smile fell off her face gradually until she looked rather serious.

“What’s going on?” He asked, his face turning from uncomfortable to worried.

Pansy hesitated. “I think it’s just I haven’t been with a guy for so long and you know how sometimes you’re looking for something and you don’t even see that it’s right there in front of you, holding a broom-” Pansy stopped abruptly as Harry looked down at his broom and his eyes widened. “Oh no, have I said too much?” She put a hand over her mouth. Hermione and Ron were mesmerised by Pansy’s performance. Hermione made a mental note to compliment her on it later.

Pansy removed the hand from her mouth and smiled shyly. “Just something to think about. I know I will.” She said seductively and walked out of the common room. Harry stood there, he looked frantically at Hermione and Ron for some sort of explanation, but Hermione just shrugged and Ron seemed to be frowning at the floor.

Night fell upon the grounds and Harry and Draco were cuddled up in whichever bed they chose to sleep in that night, Draco was rubbing his hand gently over Harry’s chest and admiring him. “You are so cute. How did you get to be so cute?” Draco asked.

“Well, my grandfather created beauty potions as you know,” Harry relished the little confused tilt of the head Draco gave before continuing. “And my grandmother was, actually, a tiny little bowtruckle.”

Draco chuckled lightly. “Okay, now you’re even cuter.” He moved the hand up to Harry’s cheek and kissed him sweetly.

“That is a popular opinion today, I must say.”

The smile on Draco’s face fell slightly. “What?”

“The weirdest thing happened in the common room today, I think- I think Pansy was hitting on me.”

Draco laughed skeptically. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m telling you, I think Pansy thinks I’m foxy.” He told him.

Draco rolled his eyes at his choice of words. “It’s not possible.” Harry looked incredibly offended. “That’s nothing on you, it’s just Pansy is the gayest person to walk this earth. She’s probably gayer than me!” He reassured Harry as he began to rub his chest again. Harry’s expression softened. “I just think you misunderstood her.”

Harry squirmed so that he was propped up on his elbows. “I didn’t misunderstand I means she touched my bicep, for Merlin’s sake!”

Draco quirked an eyebrow and squeezed his upper arm. “This bicep?” He teased.

“Well, it’s not flexed right now.” He rolled his eyes. Draco grinned and kissed him again before cuddling up at his side and falling asleep.

The sun rose on another gorgeous Saturday. Draco just knew he wanted to spend it with Harry. He still had one more N.E.W.T. exam to take. History of Magic which no one, not even Hermione, took again. He was pretty confident that he knew everything, yet it was the perfect excuse to get away from their group of friends.

He walked out of their dorm and spotted Hermione, Pansy, and Harry all sitting by the fireplace. “Hey, Draco. What are you doing today? Wanna come walk around the lake with us?” Pansy asked once she saw him.

“Actually I was gonna study, I got History of Magic on Monday.” Draco said smoothly. Pansy and Hermione exchanged knowing looks. Draco turned to his secret boyfriend. “Harry, wanna do it with me?

“Yeah. I’ll do it with you.” He replied all too quickly.

Hermione knew that Harry hadn’t taken History of Magic since fifth year, but didn’t comment. Instead she pulled out a book that she had purchased a while back for some light reading. “Oh here. This should help you. Plus we can discuss it later.” Hermione said enthusiastically. Draco turned around nervously and was relieved to see that he had already read that book cover to cover. He told Hermione this and she proceeded to pull out yet another book. Draco wasn’t so lucky this time. He had never even heard of this book, where did Hermione find it? Draco took the book reluctantly.

Hermione stood up and gestured for Pansy to do that same. “Well, we’re gonna go. Bye.” She said as she headed for the the door.

“Bye, Harry. I miss you already.” Pansy whispered in his ear and squeezed his bum before following Hermione out the door.

Harry gaped at her and didn’t speak until the girls left. He turned to Draco. “Did you see that with the inappropriate and the pinching?”

Draco looked quizzically at the door and then at Harry. “Actually I did.”

“So now do you believe she’s attracted to me?” He asked, a bit of triumph leaked through his voice.

Draco thought for a second and gasped. “Merlin, she knows about us!” Harry’s eyes widened. “Pansy knows and she’s just trying to freak us out. That’s the only explanation for it.”

Harry’s look of triumph quickly wiped off his face. “B- but what about my pinchable bum and my bulging biceps?” He asked as he started rubbing his upper arm. Harry looked up after a second of doing so, feeling no muscle there. “She knows!”

Harry and Draco barged into Ron’s room, knowing he’d be the only one in there seeing as it was passed noon. “Ron.” Harry yelled. The ginger jumped awake and fell out of his bed. He looked up at the two boys from the floor, looking quite disoriented before getting up and sitting on the edge of his bed. “Yeah?”

“Pansy knows about us.” He told him.

“Well, I didn’t tell them.” He said defensively.

“Them? Who’s them?” Draco asked frantically.

“Uh, Pansy and… Ron.”

“Ronald?” Draco asked again, this time more threatening.

Ron sighed. “And Hermione.” Harry and Draco jaws dropped. “I would’ve told you, but they made me promise not to tell.” Harry looked at him sadly. “I’m sorry.” He apologised sincerely. “But, hey, it’s over now right? ‘Cause you can tell them you know they know, and I can go back to knowing absolutely nothing!” He smiled brightly.

“Unless-” Draco started, a devilish smirk starting to form on his face.

“No! Not unless! This has to end now!” He pleaded.

Draco ignored him. “They think they are so slick messing with us. But see, they don’t know that we know that they know.” The smirk was now prominent on his face. Ron looked as confused as ever, but Harry seemed to understand what he was getting at.

“Ah, yes.” He said. “The messers become the messees!” Ron slumped back down into his bed and sighed hopelessly into his pillow.

By four in the evening, Draco and Harry had devised and master plan. Harry sent Pansy an owl telling her to meet him in one of the empty classrooms after dinner.

“Hello, you.” She greeted him in a sultry voice and leaned against the door frame, running her hands through her hair.

Harry was prepared this time. “Hello, Pansy. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Pansy seemed to be taken aback by this because her sexual composure dropped. “Huh?”

Harry moved closer. “You know that thing you said before. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.”

“Really?” Her face was now contorted with confusion.

“Listen, why do you come by my dorm tonight? I’ll let you feel my bicep… and maybe more.” He winked.

Her face stricken with shock. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. Okay bye.” She said as she ran away. Harry felt a bit of pride and grinned lightly to himself.

Pansy ran back to the common room, which was thankfully close to the room she was just in and empty. “Merlin’s beard he wants me to come over and feel his bicep and more!” She yelled, looking disgusted.

Hermione stood up at once. “Are you kidding? I cannot believe he would do that to Dra-” She stopped mid sentence and turned around, pointing an accusing finger at Ron who was trying his best not to look guilty. “Ronald, do they know that we know?” She asked menacingly.

Ron shook his head. “No.” His voice quavered.

“Ronald?” She asked sternly, sounding a bit like Mrs. Weasley.

He immediately gave in. “They know you know.”

Hermione groaned angrily. “I knew it! Ugh, I cannot believe those two.” She crossed her arms.

Pansy was equally as angry. “They thought that they could mess with us? They’re trying to mess with us?” She thought for a second. “Wait a minute. They don’t know that we know they know we know.” Ron shook his head, he was on the verge of tears, but Hermione nodded approvingly. “Ron, you can’t say anything!”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to.” He replied sardonically.

“Okay, if he wants a date, he’s gonna get a date!” Pansy said and pulled out a spare piece of parchment. “Be sexy.” Hermione advised. Pansy rolled her eyes. “Please.”

While Hermione and Pansy were strategizing, Draco and Harry were celebrating in their room. “She looked panicked! They’re totally gonna back down.” Said Harry after he told him what happened with Pansy. Draco pulled Harry closer and they started snogging, only breaking when they heard pinging at the window. They saw a brown tawny owl with a scroll attached to it’s leg. Harry opened the window to let the bird in. It flew onto his desk and stuck out it’s leg for Harry. When he unravelled it he groaned. “It’s from Pansy.”

Harry,

I’d love to come by tonight. Shall we say around seven?

Harry waited for some instructions. Draco shook his head. “Write back. Say yes.” Harry looked at him like he was mad, but he took no notice of this as he shoved a quill and an ink bottle into his hand. Harry quickly scribbled a “yes” and sent the owl on it’s way. He came back a couple of minutes later with another response.

Harry read it out loud Good. I’m really looking forward to you and me having sexual intercourse. Harry yelped and threw the parchment on the floor. “It’s okay. Relax.” Draco put a calming hand on Harry’s shoulder and they started to plan for every possible scenario.

It was nearing seven and the girls (plus Ron) were getting ready in Pansy and Hermione’s shared dorm. “Show time!” Hermione said excitedly when Pansy exited the bathroom. She was wearing a tight blouse that had buttons all the way up, some of them remained unbuttoned so a fair about of cleavage was showing. She was also wearing a particularly short skirt with thigh high socks and cute little boots that stopped just above her ankles.

“Hermione, can you conjure up some Firewhiskey and glasses?” Hermione complied and Pansy grabbed them from the air. Ron rolled his eyes and slumped in Hermione’s desk chair as the girls left the room.

“It’ll be great.” Draco said, rapidly fixing Harry’s shirt collar. “You just make her think you wanna have sex with her. It’ll totally freak her out.” He smoothed out the shoulders of Harry’s shirt.

“How far am I going to have to go with her?” Harry asked, a little hesitant about the plan.

Draco waved him off, moving his attention to his hair, which he tried to make lay flat. “Relax.” He told him. “She’s gonna give in way before you do.”

“How do you know?” He asked sporadically.

“Because you’re on my team.” He answered as he finished fixing Harry up. “And my team always wins.” He sounded a bit insane, but had that glint of determination in his eyes which Harry always loved to see.

Still, Harry was skeptical. “At this?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Just go get some!” He pointed to the door and kissed him roughly, jumping apart when they heard a knock at the door. Draco ran into the bathroom and closed the door.

Just before she knocked, Pansy and Hermione had a talk outside Harry’s room. “Okay, I’m going to put an amplifying charm so I can listen in.” Pansy nodded. To be honest it reassured her to know that Hermione was listening to their conversation. She turned around to knock. “Wait,” Hermione turned her around and unbuttoned another button on her shirt. She went to unbutton another one, but Pansy stopped her.

“Don’t give away the farm.” Hermione nodded and cast the charm. She stood up against the wall so she wouldn’t be seen when Harry opened the door.

Harry gave a nervous sigh and composed himself before pulling the door open. “Pansy.” He said charmingly.

“Harry.” She replied in the same tone.

“Come on in.” He gestured for her to enter and she did so.

“I brought some Firewhiskey. Would you like some?” She held up the bottle and glasses in her hands. Harry nodded. Pansy impressively levitated the glasses and bottle, tipping the liquid into them with her wand. She floated one over to Harry, one to herself, and set the bottle on a desk nearby. “So here we are. Nervous?”

“Me? No. You?” He asked, hoping she’d break then and there so he didn’t have to go through with this. He knew Pansy long enough now to know that that dream was quite far fetched.

“No. I want this to happen.” She replied.

“So do I.” They clinked glasses and downed the entire contents of them, both parties needing some extra strength for the night ahead. “I am going to put on some music.” He flicked his wand and Celestina Warbeck played softly in the background.

“Maybe I’ll dance for you.” Pansy replied. She started swaying her hips in a suggestive way and Harry became aware of her attire for the first time. A blush creeped up his neck. The thanked Merlin for his brown skin at this moment.

She danced up to him and stuck out her chest so abruptly that Harry jumped. He quickly recovered by telling her she looked good. Pansy thanked him. “You know, when you say things like that it makes me wanna rip that shirt right off.”

“Why don’t we move this into the bedroom?” He smirked, knowing she’d back down. The shocked look on her face told her he was right.

“Really?”

“Oh, do you not want to?” He said slyly.

“No, no.” Harry smirked. “First I wanna take off all my clothes and have you rub lotion on me.” She was the one who smirked this time.

Harry’s voice quavered. “That would be nice. I’ll go get the lotion.” He practically ran to the bathroom once he was out of Pansy’s sight. Draco jumped back, his ear was no doubt pressed to the door only moments later. “This is getting completely out of hand, okay? She wants me to put lotion on her!” He whisper shouted.

Draco put his hands out to stop his boyfriend. “She’s bluffing!”

“Look, she’s not backing down! She went like this!” He mimicked the dance move Pansy did where she stuck out her chest, making Draco jump as he did.

Pansy was also talking to Hermione in the hallway. “He’s not backing down. He went to get lotion.” She told her, more calmly than Harry telling Draco.

“Aww man. Aren’t you guys done yet?” They heard the familiar voice of Ron say behind them. “I wanna talk to my best friend!” He whined.

Hermione sighed, agitated. “Just look at it like this, the sooner Pansy breaks Harry, the sooner this is all over and out in the open.”

“Ooh, I like that. Oh, show him your bra.” Ron told Pansy. “He’s afraid of bras, can’t work ‘em.” Ron reached forward and ripped Pansy’s shirt open so that only the last four buttons remained buttoned.

“Ronald!” Pansy yelped. She examined her shirt. “Wow, you didn’t rip any buttons.” She stated, clearly impressed.

“Not my first time.” He said proudly and Hermione blushed. Pansy walked back in and made to close the door soundlessly.

Draco and Harry were still talking in the bathroom. “You go back out there and you seduce her ‘til she cracks!” He thrust the lotion into Harry’s hand.

“Okay, give me a second.” He kissed him passionately. “You’re hot when you’re crazy.”

“Of course I am.” He replied as he pushed Harry out the door. He saw Pansy at the door (which meant that she had successfully closed it without making a sound).

“Oh, you’re leaving.” Harry stated, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders only to be placed back on by the reply.

“Not without you, lover.” She walked toward him, looking down at her now open shirt then back up at him several times. “So… this is my bra.” She told him as if it weren’t already obvious.

Harry looked down at it then quickly back up to Pansy. “It’s very, very nice.” His voice was now shaking. “Well, come here. I’m very happy we’re going to have all the sex.” His heart was beating fast in his chest.

“You should be. I’m very bendy.” She stepped closer to him, the distance between them was miniscule. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Not if I kiss you first.” He may have been extremely uncomfortable, but he was determined to win for Draco. Though he wasn’t sure what he’d be winning.

Pansy put a hand on his waist. Harry mimicked the movement but quickly removed his hand when he felt a bit of her skin on his fingers. She put her other hand on his waist and attempted to close the gap between them, but Harry put a hand between them causing him to almost touch her breast. Her breathing increased, slight shock could be registered on her face, but Harry was too distraught to notice.

He removed his hand at lightning speed and let it hover over Pansy’s shoulder, still not touching her. He slowly lowered it down to meet the fabric covering it. She gasped, but covered it with a laugh. It came out nervous all the same.

“I guess there’s nothing left to do do bu- but kiss.” Harry stated, dreading that she wouldn’t back down.

“Here it comes.” Pansy replied, dropping the act of seduction she had put on all night. “Our first kiss.” Harry looked nervously toward the bathroom, willing Draco to burst out and save him. When he didn’t, Harry leaned in hesitantly, as did Pansy.

Their lips met and it was the worst and most awkward thing he had ever experienced. He couldn’t take it anymore. Harry pushed Pansy off of him and yelled. “Okay okay okay fine fine. You win!” Pansy laughed in victory. “I can’t have sex with you.” He said, moving back to put as much distance between them as possible.

“And why not?” She asked gloatingly.

“Because I’m in love with Draco!” Pansy gasped in surprise and covered her mouth with her hands. Draco opened the door to the bathroom and stared at Harry. They had never said that about each other before. Well, Harry did once, but he took it back right after he said it, afraid the feeling wouldn’t be reciprocated. He didn’t care about that this time. Harry wanted everyone to know his love for Draco.

He saw Hermione and Ron open the front door as well. “Love him! That’s right! I love him! I love him!” He proclaimed, pointing from himself then to Draco each time he said it. Draco broke into a smiled, as did Harry. They walked towards each other, Harry grabbing him by the waist when they were close enough. “I love you, Draco.”

“I love you too, Harry.” He wrapped his arms around the shorter boy’s neck and kissed him slowly.

Everyone smiled as the two boys kissed each other. “I thought you guys were just doing it. I didn’t know you were in love.” Pansy said, smiling ear to ear for his best friend had finally found the love that he so desperately sought. Draco smiled at his friends and hugged Harry tightly.

“Dude.” Ron stated, directing the word toward Harry to indicate he was happy that he had also found love. Harry grinned at him, then to the rest of the gang.

“And hats off the Pansy, quite the competitor.” Pansy thanked Harry as they shook hands. “And may I just say, you’re breasts are still showing.”

“Merlin.” She muttered and made to do up her buttons. Hermione rolled her eyes, waved her wand, and the buttons were done up once more.

Ron jumped up gleefully. “Alright. So that’s it! It’s over! Now everybody knows!”

“Well actually,” Draco spoke and Ron’s face fell with his hopes once more. “My mother doesn’t and Salazar knows this’ll be in the Prophet once it get’s out.”

“And we’d appreciate it if no one said anything yet. At least until we’ve told Narcissa.” Ron glared at the both of them and stormed out of the room. No matter how happy his friends were, he was so angry that he still had to keep this secret.

Bonus:

“I am so happy you decided to show me around Hogwarts, Minerva. I’ve been wanted to revisit it for quite some ti- what?” Narcissa Malfoy stopped her sentence when a flash of platinum blonde hair caught her eye. She was looking out a window to the Quidditch pitch when she saw a messy hair boy pull her son closer. Assuming he was going to start a fight, Narcissa rushed out of the room to save her son. Before she left, she saw that they were not in fact fighting, they were snogging and the messy haired boy let his hands settle on Draco’s bum.

Narcissa was outraged. How dare he touch my son like that! She thought as she stormed out of the castle, leaving Minerva behind.

“Potter! Potter!” She yelled as she approached the pitch. Draco cast a protection spell around them so that his mother couldn’t come any further. “I saw what you were doing through the window! I saw what you were doing to my son!” She yelled, though it came through muffled from the charm.

Harry turned to Draco, panting and petrified. “Listen, we’ve had a good run. What was it, four- five months?” He began to back up. “That’s more than most people have in a lifetime, so bye, take care, bye bye dear.” He peck him on the lips before taking out his wand to attempt to break a spot on the ward so he could run for it. Draco was too fast. Of course. That beautiful bastard. He thought to himself.

Expelliarmus!” The wand flew out of his hand and Draco caught it. “What are you doing?”

“Oh. I’m going on the lam.”

“Come on, Harry. Come on.” He pulled his boyfriend by the arm so they were the closest to Narcissa as they could be without breaking the charm. “I can handle my mother.” The blonde signalled for his mother to move back and he removed the wards. As soon as he did, Narcissa started to chase Harry around the pitch. She was surprisingly fast. “What the hell are you doing!” She yelled after him. He hid behind Draco, who held out his arms to protect him.

Hermione, who had been sat at the other end of the field with Ron, came running up to them. “What’s going on? We heard screaming?” Ron came up, panting, seconds later.

“Well, I think… Mrs. Malfoy knows about me and Draco?” He told them. Even though he was on a first name basis with Narcissa, he wouldn’t dare call her that while she looked this furious.

“Dude,” Ron looked scared and made a hand motion that meant “cut it out” “she’s right there.” Hermione, Harry, and Draco looked at Ron like they were about to lose their patience.

“I thought after I saved your life, you’d show my family some respect. This is my son. I cannot believe this!” She shrieked at Harry.

“Look, we’re not just messing around.” Harry suddenly found the courage to speak. “I love him, okay? I’m in love with him.”

Draco stepped forward a bit. “I’m so sorry that you had to find out this way, but it’s true. I love him too. We haven’t told anyone yet because we knew it’d be in the papers and we wanted to tell you ourselves.” He stepped back and allowed Harry to slink his arm around his waist while he put one around his shoulders.

Narcissa looked at them skeptically. Harry prepared himself to be yelled at again and by the feel of Draco’s rapid heartbeat, he did too. Everything went silent for a moment. Even the birds stopped chirping. Draco’s mother’s face softened and hugged them both. They simultaneously let out a breath. “I’m sorry. You guys probably want to get some hugs in too, huh?” She directed at Ron and Hermione when she pulled away. “Big news!” She sighed happily.

Hermione, smiling ear to ear, waved her off. “No, that’s okay. We’ve actually known for a while.”

Her face fell into a frown, which in turn made everyone else step back a bit. “Wha- what? You said you didn’t tell anyone!” She screeched at Draco.

“W- well, I didn’t mean them. They’re my friends! And I didn’t tell them they found out on their own.”

“I’m your mother.

“I was worried about how you’d react.” He told her cautiously.

Her face softened again and she drew her son into another hug. “You were worried about me?” She turned back to Ron and Hermione and hugged them as well.

“Now, why don’t we get out of here and let these lovebirds get back down to business.” Ron said brightly when the hug broke. Narcissa’s face fell once more, striking fear into Ron’s heart. “H- hey, don’t look at me.” He pointed to Harry. “He’s the one doing your son.”

Imagine Bill talking about how nervous he was during your first meeting and letting it slip he has a crush on you during an interview.

Originally posted by karlmordo

“So I- I didn’t ask you at first and don’t think anybody has let it go-” Jimmy said with a chuckle and Bill grinned to himself, nodding his head “But uh you said you met (Y/n) almost eight years ago? That’s- that’s a very long time you know.”

“Uh yeah” Bill rubbed the back of his neck a little nervously “My father had uhm he had invited me actually on set, to bemore specific, and I could never miss a chance like that. And- and that’s where I met her.”

“Hmh” Jimmy nodded his head “On the- on the set of Thor, right? Her character, and her as a person, has many fans that love her and is quite famous and so are you. Yet nobody has noticed a thing for all this time, it’s quite remarkable how you kept so low you know?”

“Oh uh” he chuckled “Well, it wasn’t that easy I will tell you. But we uhm had a friendship that we really wanted to last and for us to enjoy it we- we made the decision to be as subtle about it as possible. Our families knew of course, and so did our- our friends but uhm-” he cleared his throat, trying not to get off topic and let something slip of the two of you being more than just friends “It was all sort of- sort of us… living the moment every time, trying to make it just about… us?” he tried to explain with hand motions, hoping it didn’t come out so much as it being more than a friendship.

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Was, Wasn’t.

Summary: He was never really yours anyway.

Warnings: ANGST. SO MUCH ANGST. and swearing, light smut.

A/N: wooo it took me two days to write this. this my entry for @whothehellisbella‘s Cool Times Summer Jamz Mix Writing Challenge! 
My song was Final Song by MØ and I hope I did it justice



You never noticed how the grey clouds highlighted the sky.  How through their shadows and darker outlines only made the white, the purity, stand out.

The rubble that had fallen on you had no effect anymore. Your body had become numb a long time ago, something you assumed was the last gift the world presented you with. Making sure your death wasn’t that painful.

You were aware of the body next to you, groaning and crying out in pain, in despair for some kind of help, but that’s all it was. Despair.

 He too had been there with you, he too had been under the rubble, but his strength prevented him from giving up. His lower body was probably as crushed as yours was, but all you could do was watch the sky. 

All you could do was watch the sky.

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I’ve Got You

IT’S WHUMP WEEK! Hope you’re all as excited for this as I am. I’m going to try and throw some (k)lance whump at you every day!

Day One- Fever


Lance glared up at the ceiling with narrowed eyes, as if its very presence offended him. “Why do we even make plans?” he wondered aloud. “They always go south, anyways.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “If we just stormed into Galra bases with no idea what we were doing, then we’d be caught pretty easily.”

Lance eyed him, unimpressed. His skin looked unusually pale in the dim, purple light. “Kinda like how we are now?”

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anonymous asked:

Mini prompt if ur taking any: high school /college au! Steve is in art class and he just opened a cupboard to find a tiny tony squished inside who just looked at him and said “shh i’m hiding. I may or may not have blown up the chem labs”

For the record, Steve had only wanted to finish his project.


It had been a long week. He was tired. It was cold. Bucky and Natasha had just gotten (back) together, which meant every night for the past 8 days had been….loud. To sum it all up, he was in a pretty piss-poor mood.

So when Steve heard a dull thud from the supply cupboard, paired with a muffled yell of ‘fuck, paint, fuck, everywhere, son of a whore-”, Steve figured his bad week was just about to get worse. 


Fucking horny teens. Sex in the store cupboard, really? Steve needed to use that, dammit.


Shutting his eyes and letting his head fall against the desk for a moment, he briefly contemplated his life and whether or not he really needed to stay in college, before standing upright. He’d just go in there and tell them to fuck off. Maybe make them pay for whatever damn paint they sounded like they’d spilled all over themselves. That would be fun.

There was another dull crash, and then what sounded like paintbrushes clattering to the floor as the cursing continued. Steve huffed irritably, marching forward. He was pretty much the sole user of the tiny studio, and so he usually ended up purchasing and ordering that stock cupboard all on his own. And now there was someone fucking in there-

“My eyes are shut, so you better put your dick away in the next five seconds and look really goddamn sorry by the time I’ve opened them again, or I’m gonna be so pissed,” he declared, yanking open the door whilst his spare hand covered his eyes.

There was a short silence, and then “Uh, do people usually get their dicks out in this paint cabinet? Is this some sort of exhibitionist trend I’m missing out on?”

Steve frowned, peeking through a crack in his fingers, just for a second. The frown deepened when he saw no-one, but as he glanced downward, he spotted a guy, crouched on his haunches. He was the only person there, and his dick was very much covered.

Steve pulled his hand away, staring. He looked like he was in the process of picking up a stack of paintbrushes from the floor, and he was covered in…glitter? And green paint?

“Yes, I know, I am a disaster,” the boy muttered, running a hand through his green hair, “in my defence, the stocking system in this cupboard is very unreliable.”

“Hey,” Steve folded his arms, offended, “This a perfectly stacked cupboard. It’s a good system.”

“There was no room for my elbows to navigate without spillage of the paints! They should obviously be on the bottom shelf.”

“It’s not catered to short people,” Steve snapped, “it doesn’t bump against my elbows.”

There was another silence, and then an offended huff. “I’m not short. I’m above average, actually.”

“Why are you even here?” Steve asked incredulously, looking at him hard. He didn’t recognise the guy- and it was with a little jolt somewhere just under his stomach that he realised he definitely would have remembered a face like that if he’d seen it around. “You’re not- you’re not an art student.”

“No, but the arts block is like, the furthest away from the labs on the other side of campus, and so it may stand a chance of being just out of reach of Fury’s senses. I hope,” he explained with a wave of his hand, like that made things any clearer, “anyway- amusing as it was to hear, may I ask why the first thing you said to me was an order for me to put my dick away?”

Steve made a little noise in the back of his throat, blushing. “You think this is the first time I’ve caught people getting handsy in my cupboard?”

“Ooh, your cupboard, is it?” The boy grinned, leaning a shoulder against one of the shelves. How he managed to make that look flirtatious, whilst covered in green paint and purple sparkles, was rather a mystery to Steve. “Didn’t know people could claim store cupboards now.”

“I pay for all the stuff in here and stock it myself-” he shot a glare at the boy, who just looked a little sheepish, “so yeah, I’d say it was mine. And you- you just come in here and mess it all up and get paint everywhere, and I’m not-”

They both stopped when they heard the banging of doors being flung open down the corridor, and Steve watched as the boy’s eyes widened. “Uh oh,” he said ominously, “okay, cupboard monitor, shut the door and pretend you never saw a thing.”

Steve paused, looking incredulous. “What? What are you even- I have no idea what is even happening-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the boy rolled his eyes as he whispered, and then before Steve could even finish, hands were grabbing at his collar and tugging him into the darkness of the cramped cupboard. He swore in surprise, feeling the boy lean over him and shut the door behind them with a quiet click. “You’re really terrible at reacting quickly, aren’t you?” He whispered.

Steve opened his mouth, and was surprised to find a hand immediately cover it. It was stupidly cramped in there for two people, and so Steve felt the boy, right up against him. “Pretty pretty please just be quiet, for like, 6 seconds.”

Steve, completely baffled by that point, just nodded. The hand was still over his mouth.

They both listened as the footsteps got louder, and then another nearer bang as the door to Steve’s studio was flung open.

The boy bit his lip and winced, fingers curling tighter into Steve’s jacket for a second. Steve just stood there, wide-eyed, wondering who the fuck appeared to be hunting for the person in front of him.

“Goddamn it, Stark, you can’t run forever,” came a gruff growl, and then they heard the door shut with a slam and footsteps fade down the corridor.

The boy- Stark- breathed out, and drew his hand away from Steve’s mouth. “Phew, that was close,” he said quietly, giving Steve an absent pat on the cheek, “well done for not giving us both away immediately, by the way.”

“I can react quickly,” Steve burst out defensively, “I can. You just- caught me off guard.”

Stark raised an eyebrow. He was very close in the cupboard- Steve could only see the vague outlines of his face in the darkness, but the initial image he’d seen upon throwing open the door had been somewhat burned into his mind, so it was easy to image what he looked like. “Sure you can, cupcake.”

Steve watched him, frown creasing his forehead. Stark didn’t seem unduly scared, and when Steve had seen him, he didn’t look all that injured. But that didn’t exactly explain why there appeared to be someone doing their best to hunt him down. 

“Do you need help?” He asked in the end, cocking his head a little, “Do you- if someone’s after you, I can make them go away. Not like- not in the murdery sort of way, but- uh- I mean, if someone’s threatening you or something, me and my friends are good at- that. ‘That’ being making them fuck off, obviously, not the threatening stuff, why would you want me to threaten you too, that would be dumb-”

He broke away when he heard s soft tinker of laughter underneath his chin. It was a nice laugh. Very melodic. “You’d do that for a guy who just broke into your store cupboard and held you hostage there?”

“I’d do that for anyone who needed it,” Steve said, shrugging, “I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of it, that’s all.”

He felt Stark’s eyes scour up and down his body, then, and guessed the face he was wearing looked pretty disbelieving, so he he added “I didn’t always used to be so…”

“Tall?” Stark said helpfully, and Steve nodded. “Yeah. Tall.”

Stark grinned, and Steve saw the white of his teeth. “Well, I’d really love for you to knock on Dean Fury’s door and punch him out, but I feel like that would be asking too much of someone I only met two minutes ago. Also the manhunt is, perhaps, ever so slightly justified.”

Steve opened his mouth, and then shut it with a clack. He cocked his head, looking down at Stark and re-folding his arms. “Why the fuck is Dean Fury hunting you down?”

Stark looked a little guilty, feet shuffling on the floor. “Uh. Well. You see- there was a very very slight incident with some flammable chemicals and an unsuspecting laboratory a few hours ago. No one was harmed, except Bruce’s pizza, so I guess I’m also hiding from him too. But- hmm, how do I put this- the lab has sadly reached its untimely demise?” he finished with a nod.

Steve paused. “So you blew up a lab,” he said eventually.

“I’m going to get them a new one, obviously.”

Steve wondered how much an entirely new lab would cost. “Obviously,” he repeated dryly, “and you’re going to buy me some new paint. And then tell me how excellent my stacking skills are.”

Stark smiled again. “Darling, I may be an arsonist, but I’m no liar.”

Steve huffed, shaking his head. He realised absently, that they were both still pressed together in the darkness of the store cupboard. And just like that, suddenly all the horny teens who fucked in broom closets didn’t seem quite so stupid after all. In fact, Steve thought they were onto something. That was- yeah, he could certainly consider that, in the future. Or now. Whatever.

“I,” Steve declared, hand jumping to the door handle and twisting it hastily, because they were definitely not the kind of thoughts he should be having about a total stranger, “am too tired for this.”

Stark raised his eyebrows and blinked as light flooded into the room. Steve remembered the paint when the guy’s hair pretty much assaulted him with colour. “And you should probably shower,” he added.

Stark looked upward, fingers playing with some neon strands and then letting the paint drip on his fingers. There was a second in which he just stared at it, and then the fingers jerked forward and pressed into his cheek, smearing green across his face. 

Steve yelped in surprise. “Hey!” 

“Now you need a shower too,” Stark shrugged, swaying forward on his feet and grinning up at Steve, “how about we save water and share one?”

Steve sputtered. Stark just looked at him with a little smirk on his face and a light in his eye. “I-” God, that offer sounded good right now, “I actually have a project that I- I can’t afford to put it off any longer.” He sighed, waving a hand over to the half drawn sketch covering his canvas and steadfastly refusing to turn and face it, lest he be bombarded with the physical representation of all the crushing pressure he was currently doing his best not to think about.

Stark peered over his shoulder, leaning in again as he did so. Steve could smell paint and coffee. “How long is it going to take, do you think?” He asked curiously.

Steve shrugged. “Too fucking long, that’s for sure.”

Stark looked as if he was debating his options. His eyes flickered over to the door, but then landed back on Steve. “Well,” he pulled a face, “it’s not like I’m gonna be doing much other than being yelled at once I leave, so I might as well stay and keep you company.” A pause, and then “That’s- that’s alright, right? You’re not secretly screaming at me to leave you alone in your head right now?”

Steve chuckled. “No screaming. You- I’d like you to stay, You seem like you have excess energy. I could use some of that right now.”

“What, you just gonna absorb the energy via osmosis?” Stark jumped backward onto one of the desks and swung his legs, leaning forward and grinning up at Steve. He really was beautiful- if a little green.

An usual burst of bravery overcoming him, Steve leaned down and took Stark’s face in his hands, kissing him softly. Underneath him, he heard a little noise fall from the other boy’s mouth, but he caught on quickly, hands going around Steve’s waist and pulling him in close.

Steve pulled away, placing an extra peck on his lips for good luck. “There,” he said with a smile, “I’m feeling more energised already.”

Between his hands, he felt the smile as Stark laughed. “Wow- smooth talking, handsome, it’s a wonder you’ve not been snatched up already,” he mused through his little bursts of laughter.

“My name’s Steve,” he stroked a thumb over the cheekbone that was covered in a patch of glitter. He stopped for a moment, and then shrugged. “Although sugar’s fine too.”

Another laugh. Steve was fast beginning to develop a bit of an addiction to that laugh. He wanted to hear it more, far more. “I’m Tony,” was the response he got, “Tony Stark.”

“Do you usually set off explosions and then run from the consequences of said explosions, Tony Stark?” Steve murmured, tilting his head and letting his hands slip around the back of Tony’s neck.

Tony’s fingers grasped at Steve’s shirt and pulled him down for another kiss. “Wanna find out?” he breathed when they broke away for a second, and Steve did, apparently- very much so, if the hands that curled into Tony’s hair and the mouth that worked open Tony’s own was anything to go by.

“Mmf,” Steve said, in a mixture between a moan of pleasure and irritation, “you’re getting paint all over me and I really, really need to- hmmm, God- work. This is very distracting,” he muttered, making no efforts to break away as he leaned forward and curled his hands under Tony’s thighs, pulling him as close as he’d get before falling off the edge of the desk entirely.

Tony giggled. Fuck, Steve had known him for five minutes, why was that laugh making him feel so stupid and pleased for- “I’l pay off your professor and make them give you an A,” he said seriously, peppering kisses across Steve’s throat, and fuck, okay, yeah, Steve was… the project wasn’t going to get finished tonight, not now Tony had come in and seduced him with his stupid painted green hair and ripped jeans and mouth, goddamn it, Steve was only human.

He’d just finish the project tomorrow. Yeah. He’d have time.

“They won’t ever think to search for you in the apartment of some random art major,” Steve breathed, and Tony made approving noises underneath him, “I’d just like to say, though, that I deny all plausible accountability if you get caught.”

“Oh, baby,” Tony pulled on his earlobe with his teeth, and Steve felt his breath hitch and his eyes roll, whoops, yeah, he’d probably not be able to finish the fucking project for days after this- too distracted by the goddamn memory, stupid Tony, “cruel words- throwing me to the wolves so easily? After all we’ve been through?”

“I met you five minutes ago.”

Tony waved a hand, “and we’ve bonded irredeemably. No going back now, Steve, if I go down, you’re coming with me.”

Steve smiled, curling his hand around Tony’s jaw again. “You know what, I don’t think I’d mind that all too much,” he admitted, before making a face, “although I could do without the green paint and glitter.”

“You’re just not imaginative enough,” Tony rolled his eyes and leaned back, “how far away is your place?”

“Depends how legally we get there.”

“I’m already a fugitive- might as well go all out,” Tony slid his hand into Steve’s pocket and squeezed, and Steve barely resisted the urge to just lean over him and get his pants of right there on the fucking desk, God, there was paint everywhere, why was this not horribly gross?

“Two minutes, then,” Steve answered, searching blindly for Tony’s hand and then locking their fingers together, “come on.”

Tony jumped off the desk enthusiastically, and Steve tugged them out the door, both of them giggling like five-year-olds as they ran through the corridors and hid from any professors that might be out for Tony. Which happened to be all of them. 

“They’re all under Fury’s web of control,” Tony whispered conspiratorially into Steve’s ear, a hand curled around his shoulder as he peered around the corner and watched a professor wander innocently over to the water cooler, “look at him. Look at that plotting face. They’re all out for me, Steve, all of them.”

Steve just rolled his eyes and pulled Tony out the door. After some heavy making out against the wall (Tony said it was because physical affection made people uncomfortable and so wouldn’t look at them, but Steve just thought he was a handsy bastard. Not that he was complaining, mind.) and a brief detour to the nearest corner store to buy cereal, Steve finally got them both back to his apartment.

Bucky looked up as he walked in with Tony, and his eyebrows shot up. Tony winked. Steve just looked smug and gave him a salute, before pushing Tony into his room.


Time to show him how it felt to be on the other end of those thin walls.