the way he holds her hands

anonymous asked:

sad anon/ so like, Penny hibernates for 27 years, right? What if his s/o got terminally ill in the middle of that timelapse and had only weeks left to live? There's no way Penny would know about that bc he's sleeping, so s/o goes search for him in the sewers. When s/o eventually finds him in his den, she just lays down next to him and hold a note in her hands, that explains all the ordeal, and lays there with him for several days, watching him sleep, until they eventually die.

This actually made me cry,,,

Like my nose is running and shit, anon you’re a goddamn wonderful idea maker and u made me have E MO T I ON S

Priority

Post the final problem

Despite his best intentions Molly falls down his list of priorities post Sherrinford.

Sherlock means to go to Molly straight away, the moment he gets out of the helicopter and London’s comforting lights embrace him but his body rebels and he collapses before he can take a step.
He sleeps, longer and deeper then has for an age. He suspects John has a hand in that. When he wakes there is a miasma of problems.

His first priority is Eurus, settling her back in Sherrinford but this time with a plan; this takes time talking to Mycroft; really talking and specialists; anything and everything to help Eurus.

Sherlock holds the threads of his family together-bridging the gaps between his parents anger and Mycroft’s guilt. And remembering Victor, replaying memories long buried. It hurts but in a good way-a release long repressed. He remembers victor’s bright smile and the way he felt running along the beach with him. Carefree. Happy.
John listens when he speaks of victor-a strong, reassuring presence by his side, Sherlock spends nights wondering what would have become of him had Victor lived? What would have happened to John?

And he hates himself for being grateful that even through this hell, he has John. That this life has brought him John and his friendship.

He mourns victor, it feels like walking on broken glass but it’s also a release-decades of pent up pain finally unleashed. He helps Victor’s parents bury their child, with a heavily edited version of events. He now has a place to go-to mourn his friend in peace.

His days blur it feels like a drugs binge complete with brilliant highs and devastating lows-he’s spent a lifetime mimicking human emotion without letting himself feel it and now he feels it. God, does he feel it.

When he surfaces he realises ten weeks have passed since that hellish night. Everyday he means to text Molly and each time someone chooses that moment to interrupt him for something. The only contact he’d had was through Mycroft-the assurance that despite the numerous cameras installed in her home, Molly herself was safe. It had been a very quick debriefing, both brothers still reeling from recent events.

There had been a soft edge to Mycroft’s tone when he spoke of Molly-a significance Sherlock was still coming to terms with.

He feels sick, newly rebuilt 221B swimming in front of him. He’s let her down again, let her fade into the background.

He definitely hates himself.

He writes and rewrites half a dozen texts, a short dissertation that would eat up all his data but he can’t send them. Even he knows that this is a conversation that needs to be face to face.

A horrible part of his mind whispers that she hadn’t texted him either.

You know where to find me. SH

It’s childish, making Molly take the first step but he’s intruded on her enough, forced his needs on her time and again. For once he wants to know what Molly needs. Whatever it is he’ll acquiesce.

maybeishouldwait  asked:

HOW DO I CHOOOSE okay uh.... GeldaxZeldris 19!!!

“Come home with me.”

This…this is becoming dangerous, Zeldris was thinking as Gelda tugged on his hair, pulling him deeper into a kiss that made his hearts pump madly. Groaning, he tightened his hold on her, one hand sliding beneath her pink waistcoat to stroke her bare back, then finger at the buttons fastening her dress together. Gelda hummed against his mouth, her lips curling slightly, and she parted from him. She locked her blue eyes with Zeldris and smiled sweetly; and then, she slowly began to unbutton her waistcoat.

With eyes round and heat flashing from his neck, Zeldris watched as the coat gave way to reveal plush breasts and a strong torso held by the bodice of a maroon dress that left Gelda’s shoulders bare. Gelda smiled wider at him, her cheeks flushing as her eyes gleamed. As her gaze went dark, she tipped her head forward to trail kisses along his neck. She paused in her tender ministrations and then, with a slight hiss, opened her mouth wider to graze her sharp teeth against the skin. Zeldris swallowed a groan but held her closer, leaning against the thick tree, his head tipped back.

“Come home with me,” Gelda said suddenly, her voice deep and a little rough. “Stay with me tonight.”

Zeldris froze, his eyes snapping wide open as he choked out, “I-I…what, now?”

She lifted her head and cradled his jaw in her hands, coaxing him to look into her eyes. Gelda bit her bottom lip in thought, her face flushing darker, and then smiled.

“My room, tonight,” she told him. “Stay with me.”

He stared at her for a beat, pretty sure he must have heard incorrectly, but the way Gelda was smiling at him—all regal, but inviting, especially as she pressed her body close to his—Zeldris realized there could be no question of her intent. The hot blush at his neck spread to his cheeks. He opened his mouth, tried to voice what he could register from his hazy mind.

No way, I can’t, it’s too dangerous. Meliodas will literally kill me and make my skull his newest doorstop. Hell knows what Estarossa will do, Zeldris thought with a swallow, his stomach churning. I don’t even want to think of what Father would do. She can get hurt, I can get worse, and there’s no way anyone can overlook this.

But Gelda was still so gorgeous, so much so that it was absolutely criminal, and she was still looking at him like that, like he was worth something, worth wanting and maybe even lov—

Uh, NOPE, we are not going there, nope nope nope—

“Y-yeah, okay.”

…Fuck.

In that moment, as he watched Gelda beam victoriously, Zeldris was certain: He was either the luckiest demon alive, or the biggest idiot to be spat from Purgatory.

8

Kurt, what if it’s only a matter of time before I become like that?

Fuck you Holland

Series: Tom Holland Imagines

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader

Request by: @iamaquackson  Summarized:Tom and the Reader get into a fight and then… HOT MAKEUP SEX.

Warnings: SMUTTTT, Swearing cause it’s the best and Tom does IRL :,) DID I MENTION SMUT? SO IF YOU’RE BOTHERED PLS DON’T BOTHER READING.

Word Count: HELLA LONG 2,500 + Felt in a descriptive mood in the beginning x)

A/N: I reached 1.7k today OMG THANKS FAM FOR ALL THE LOVE & SUPPORT


[Reader’s POV]


   Tonight you were going out to a club with Tom and Harrison. You couldn’t wait for a drink, it’d been a long day and you needed it. Tom had an interview and wanted to go out to drink. Harrison was with him today and it was always fun with the both of them.


   You were currently getting ready for tonight looking through your closet. Sliding the hangers to the side as you looked at some of Tom’s favorite things he liked you to wear. You were getting laid tonight after not seeing him for two weeks. It was going to happen, you needed it.

     The dress you picked was a black short dress that fit you perfectly. You called it the holy grail dress cause Tom’s hands are all over you whenever you wear it. Slipping it on you look at yourself in the mirror.  Turning around to see it hugging your ass , a grin on your face at the sight. Reaching for your heels you set them on the floor.  Bending over you pick up the heel that tipped over.


“Fucking hell, you’re wearing the dress” Tom’s voice comes from behind you making you look. His gaze is glued to your barely covered ass.


“Yeah I am, now lets go and have fun” you smile slipping on your heels and walking out of the closet. Tom quickly following behind you smacking your ass hard. A yelp leaves your lips as you see your boyfriend run towards the front door.


“Bitch!” you shout at him rubbing the stinging feeling away.


“Jerk!” He sticks his tongue out at you before opening the door.


-


    The music vibrated to your bones as you danced along to the music. Your feet were aching but you were not taking these expensive heels off. A smile on your face as you danced with Tom. His hands slid down your body from starting at your breasts down to your hips. You could feel how hard he was as you were grinding against him.


    Your back was against firm chest as your hips swayed to the beat. Harrison was in the corner making out with some random red haired girl. A few people recognized Tom but haven’t bothered him. Women stared at him like he was a piece of meat. Turning around in his arms you pull his shirt. Crashing your lips against his in a needy kiss. His hand caresses your face as his other grips your ass tightly.


    A small moan leaves your lips as he lifts your leg to wrap around his waist. You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your chest. Tom bites your lower lip tugging it a bit. Tangling your fingers in his curls pulling them a bit. Tom lets your leg go once Harrison walks over with the red haired girl. 


    You were left panting in Tom’s arms as him and Harrison yelled at each other to hear each other. Giving up of trying to hear each other the four of you walk back over to the seating area. The red haired girl holding onto Harrison, her eyes practically eye fucking him. Your lips were red and tingly from the intense makeout session with Tom.


“Mate, we’re going to head out.. see you for our workout sesh tomorrow” Harrison hugs Tom before walking away with the girl.


“I n-need a drink, I’ll be back baby” you kiss Tom on lips before walking away from him. You head over to the bar pushing through the crowd of people. Making your way to the bar you grab a bartenders attention. Holding onto the bar for support due to your feet aching. 


“What can I get you,it’s on the house” He grins looking down at you, jesus he’s tall. He sends you a wink leaning against the bar counter. Smiling up at him you ask him for two shots of tequila and a Corona. 


    Pouring the shots for you he sets them down. You take them quickly biting into the lime that was placed beside the glasses on a small dish.  He hands you the beer that you gladly take. Taking a couple of sips sighing from the feeling of the alcohol buzzing through your system.


    Holding the beer as you make your way back to see something that makes your blood boil. Another woman was with Tom, her hands all over him. His eyes widen when he sees your figure behind her. Before he can even say anything you yank her hair pulling her backwards. 


    Pulling down so she falls on her ass, her stiletto breaking from the fall. Her face holds fear as she tries to get up. You place your heel on her chest making her stop moving. The look in her eyes held fear , people around you started to form.


“I don’t know who the fuck you are but if I ever see you around Tom again I won’t stop from breaking a bottle on your whore head” your tone full of venom as you pour your beer down on her face. She struggles but your heel digs into her chest making her cry in pain. Her coughing as she choked on the alcohol filled the air.


“Babe, stop people are recording” Tom pulls your arm pulling you off the woman. Turning around you get out of his grasp throwing your empty beer bottle on the ground. The glass shattering flying in different directions.


“I’m leaving Tom” your eyes filling with tears as you shove people out of the way. Your legs shakily walking as fast as they could towards the entrance. Tom calling after you making you grit your teeth. 


     Walking out into the chilly night air made your buzz end immediately. The wind blows your hair behind your hair behind your shoulders. You knew where Tom lived and would walk until you could get an uber or something. The sound of your heels clicking filled the London air. A shiver running down your spine as another gush of wind blew by. 


    A car was slowly driving next to you as you walked. Looking over to see Tom’s Audi slowly driving next to you. The window rolling down to show Tom looking at you. Cars were lining up behind him but you didn’t care.


“Darling,get in the car please!”Tom begs as you keep walking down the sidewalk. You couldn’t even stand to look at his face right now.


    The car stops and Tom gets out causing cars to honk. He walks over to you lifting you over his shoulder effortlessly. Damn his strength. Your legs thrashing as he carried you to the Audi. 

    Opening the car door he tosses me into the back seat .Locking the door till he gets to his side of the car. Unlocking it he gets in keeping it locked making you pout in the back seat. The whole car ride home was dead silent.


-


“She was all over you Tom” you rip your hand out of his. If you could see a color it would be red. He knew how you felt when you went out together. She was practically grinding on him.


“Wait, are you going to blame me? You’re not as innocent as you think darling” Tom seethes walking into right after you. Snapping your head in his direction so fast your hair flipped over your shoulder. Your eyes narrowing into slits over at your boyfriend.


“Fucking excuse me? ” You snap walking up to him poking his toned chest with your maroon acrylic nail. Is he trying to seriously turn this on you?


“You were practically flirting with the bartender for drinks, don’t think I didn’t see..” Tom’s posture changing into a tense stance. His face held anger just like yours.You didn’t even flirt with the bartender? What the fuck.


“Fuck you Holland” you slap him across the face leaving a handprint on his cheek. The slap hurting your hand cause part of your palm hit his jawline. Adrenaline pumping through your veins watching as Tom’s chest rose up and down quicker.


“Fuck you” he grits out through his teeth. Your hand was trembling as you reached for the ring on your left hand. Taking it off you throw it at his chest making it ricochet off somewhere else.


“Take your ring Tom, I knew you weren’t ready to commit” tears were falling down your cheeks as you head towards the bedroom. Anxiety was flowing through you as you headed towards the closet. Kicking off the heels Tom got you and reaching for your suitcase.


“Angel, please it wasn’t what you thought, I swear I didn’t even have my hands on her… She was so damn perss-”


“We’re fucking engaged Tom and you even let her get near you like that?” you laugh grabbing clothes and throwing them in the suitcase. Fear was sketched over his features as he watched you pack. You two have never gotten into a heated argument like this, let alone pack a bag.


“Angel,listen to me dammit!” Tom grips your body pulling it to his. Feeling his hands cup your cheeks making you look at him. Your eyes lowering to his lips as he talked but you tuned him out. Gripping his head pulling his face to yours pressing your lips against his. 


    Your mouths move in a perfect sync as he pushes your body against the wall. A gasp leaves your lips when your back hits the wall. Tom takes the advantage of sliding his tongue into your mouth. His hand lifting your leg around his waist. 


“T-Tom” you moan out as his lips move to your neck. The feeling of him sucking the skin made your knees weak and you dripping wet. That is your weak spot and he knows it.


    His hands reach behind you unzipping the dress letting it fall down to the floor. Your body naturally chilled when the air touches your skin. His body heat instantly warming your skin up. His lips leave a trail down your body leaving you a breathless mess. 


    Watching as he slid your thong down your thighs . Stepping out of them he throws them to the side. Lifting your leg above his shoulder you place your hands on the wall for some kind of support. Lord knows you’re going to need it.


“God, you’re so fucking beautiful..” His voice low with arousal as he kisses the inside of your thigh. Feeling his lips moving slowly towards where you wanted him the most. He bites the inside of your thigh making your head tilt back.


“I-I’m still mad at y-” your sentence being cut off by his tongue licking up your slit swirling around your clit. A moan fills the air as you grip onto his curls. Looking down he sends a wink up at you making your legs wobble. His fingers sliding into your dripping pussy as he slowly pumps them in and out of you.


“Still mad at me Angel?” he asks giving your clit a kiss,still pumping his fingers in and out of you picking up a faster pace. The eye contact between the two of you made your breath hitch in your throat. Your hips were moving involuntarily needing more than just his fingers.


“F-Fuck Tom I-I” you couldn’t even form a sentence. Gripping his curls as pleasure builds up inside of you. Your stomach tightens as you feel the urge to cum.


   His fingers withdrawing from inside you making a whimper escape your lips. Tom lifts you up carrying you to the bed. Laying you down on the soft black comforter. He strips himself of his shirt unbuttoning it slowly. Sliding his shirt off letting it fall to the floor behind him. Your eyes watching his muscles move as he undressed himself.


He is a work of art.


   Tom gets on the bed positioning himself in between your legs. He groans as he slides the tip of his cock up and down your slit. Your breathing was shaky from the endorphins running through your body. He places his his forearm next to your head as he slides into you. A moan escapes Tom as he fills you up completely. 


“P-Please” you mumble against his neck.


   Veins prominent as he clenched his jaw tight,thrust going in and out of you quickly.His free hand grasped your hip tight, nails digging into your skin. Wrapping your legs around his waist pulling him closer. Moans were falling from your lips as he pounded into you.


   Gripping onto his back scratching your nails down his back. Tom hisses from you scratching his back, thrusts becoming deeper as he angled your hips up. Moans filled the air as he pounded into you, pleasure pulsing in your veins. Tom’s lips crash down on yours in a passionate kiss. His thrusts slowing down but hitting you deep still. 


   Running your fingers through his soft curls as the two of you kissed. A moan escaping you causes you to break the kiss. Your head turning to the side as his thumb rubs circles on your clit. Hot wet kisses were placed on your neck leaving you a panting mess. This man would be the death of you, how could you stay mad at him through all of this?


“You know you’re my girl right?” Tom breathes against your neck, his breath making your sore neck twinge. His hands grab yours entwining them place them beside your head. Tilting your hips up he goes deep hitting your g-spot repeatedly.


“Y-yes Tom, I’m yours” you moan out squeezing his hands as the pleasure built up inside you. Your legs were shaking from how close you were.


“Fuckin’ hell” Tom moans into your neck his thrusting getting faster. You could tell he was getting close because he was getting more and more vocal. The headboard banging against the wall the faster he went.


“I’m gonna cum” you whimpered as Tom rested his forehead against yours.Reaching down he starts rubbing your clit in quick circles.


    Taking your free hand to place it on the side of his cheek. Guilt sinking your chest for slapping him earlier. Your thoughts being interrupted as your orgasm sends a wave of pleasure over you. Tom slows his thrusts as he releases letting out a low moan. You laid there panting as Tom rolls off of you. 


    Sitting up then falling back down on the bed due to fatigue hitting you like a bag of bricks. Tom gives you a quick kiss before getting off the bed. Your eyes staring at his ass cause it’s perfection. He grabs a pair of sweatpants from the floor slipping them on. 


    Tom tosses you his button up which you put on. Getting off the bed, your legs wobbling a bit as you walk over to a mirror buttoning the shirt up. Your curls were deflated and into waves now, your reflection wasn’t as bad as you thought. Tom leaves the room making a pain in your heart start to form. Looking over at your suitcase on the floor with clothes thrown carelessly into it.


“Now darling… I know you’re upset with me, but can you please forget about what happened tonight? I didn’t want her on me because I have you.. I chose you to spend the rest of my life with,not her.. Now I’m going to ask you again and pray you still love me.. will you marry me and be Mrs. Holland?” Tom asks holding up your engagement ring you threw earlier. 


    Nodding with tears in your eyes, you wrap your arms around his neck pressing your lips against his. He smiles grabbing your hand and slipping your ring back where it’s supposed to be. Placing your hand on his cheek he turns his head giving the palm a kiss. 


“I love you,Bitch” you grin at Tom playfully,a snicker following after.


“I love you,Jerk” he winks lifting you over his shoulder running towards the kitchen. The only sounds that filled the house was laughter, funny remarks and some Netflix.. maybe some chilling too..


A/N: Guess which tv show I was watching while I was typing this..

Guys My Age (3)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: Lap dance to rough Smut. NSFW gifs.

Anon asked “Can you please do a part 3 to ‘guys my age’ were Bucky asks reader for another lap dance”

A/N: The fic that started it all. I’m so glad people liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you want to be tagged. Also, dominant/jealous Bucky is just wow. Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE or HERE. Go away kids! And please use protection y’all.

Part 1 Part 2

Keep reading

Borrowed Time

The series where Harry is mute

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Y/n never went back home. Instead, she spends winter break in the confines of Harry’s apartment—wrapped up in between his bedsheets to keep warm.

The usually cold and brutal winter that always made their skin numb is now warm to them—skin always accompanied by one another’s and feeling more than ever before. And with the mix of never ending company and the feel of the music that always seems to be playing in his apartment, they couldn’t have asked for a better way to start off their relationship.

They never do anything extravagant—never do anything that could take time away from one another. It’s in their simplicity do they find a sense of comfort throughout the festive season. They feel happiest in their own little world—away from everything and everyone, just focusing on them being together without any distractions.

With being so consumed by one another, they’ve learned more about each other than ever before—spending most days watching their favorite movies and baking new recipes they found in Harry’s favorite Christmas cookbook and spending the nights cuddled up against one another as Y/n somehow finds new things to talk about.

Each day, they fall in love with each other all over again. It’s as if their hearts unravel and trap each other in—giving them no means of escape, but neither of them want to.

Whenever she spends the night at his apartment, Harry has to spend nearly an hour each morning just to fight her from getting out of bed. It’s become a routine, Harry having to pull her from the edge of the bed so that he can cradle her back in his arms while she giggles and mumbles some excuses he doesn’t have the energy to listen to.

He just really, really, really loves the feel of her first thing in the morning, especially when the brutal feel of the blistering winds finds its way to his apartment. She’s much warmer than usual and her eyes are brighter and always glistened against the sun. Her lips, too—they are always so much fuller somehow that even in his mild awareness, he finds himself kissing them before he finally lets her slip away from the comfort of the sheets.

But this morning—this morning is different.

After a Christmas night filled with passion and inexperienced intimacy, Harry really doesn’t want to let her go. He’d much rather feel her uncovered body up against his all morning—soaking each other up and holding one another until the sun sets into the night.

It just sounds so right, to keep each other near and close after giving each other their last bit of innocence. Everything they had to offer one another was taken and used to make them whole, so that’s how they should be—together and whole for as long as they possibly can.

But when Harry feels Y/n begin to stir her way out of his arms, he knows she has very different plans.

And he’s just not having it.

He whimpers in his slumbered state, pulling her back against his chest with eyes half-lidded and breathing still steady. He’s holding onto her like never before, refusing to feel her side of the bed empty. He needs her, her, her, anywhere and everywhere as long as it’s with him. And despite having every bit of her last night, he hasn’t gotten enough and he needs her more.

She giggles softly against his neck, gingerly kissing the exposed skin as her fingers run along his jaw. She can already feel him falling back asleep from her touch, a content sigh leaving his lips at their closeness.

“Love, I gotta get up. Y’know me, can’t stay in bed once I’m awake.”

He groans as he shakes his head, somehow filling up the smallest of empty spaces between them and tucking his head into her shoulder. His nose is right up against her skin and he can smell her usual scent—vanilla and lavender from her usual body wash but much more filthy than usual.

She giggles again when she feels his bottom lip poke at her shoulder, her fingers reaching to his hair as she combs through it.

“Oh, none of that, H.” She tisks, thumbing the very exaggerated pout on his lips. “I’ll be right downstairs, won’t be going anywhere far.”

He rolls his body off of her, his back hitting against the mattress with a whine. His eyes remain closed but there’s a very noticeable furrow between his brows, and Y/n begins to wonder what he’s so worried about.

She frowns down at him, observing the rise of his goosebumps from the morning cold on his bare chest. It looks empty and lifeless without her head upon it, and though his body is no stranger to her, there’s something about it that seems much more inviting and she yearns to keep it closer than ever.

And she gets it—she gets his exaggerated whining and the worry in his eyes. After everything that happened to them the night before, he can’t leave her—he can't—and that’s exactly what she’s doing to him, even if it’s only a floor away.

Almost as if to reassure him, she goes with the feel of her heart and decides to spend the next couple hours of the freezing morning right beside him.


Harry loves watching Y/n in her most natural hours.

Her chest and elbows are leaning against the surface of the kitchen counter, one hand holding a mug of coffee while the other flips the pages of her favorite poetry book. Her upper body is clad with Harry’s favorite sweatshirt—ending right at the end of her underwear—leaving her legs exposed and on full display for all of Harry to see.

Despite her hair fully knotted and having an overall disheveled look to her, Harry decides that she looks best this way—in a way nobody other than him has gotten the chance to see—as if she was made for his eyes only.

And he has never seen such a beautiful sight in his life as she looks at him with the softest and most delicate of eyes, a small smile resting on her lips at his presence. Every bit of her looks inviting—like a place of comfort Harry could forever shield himself in.

She’s become so much more than his girlfriend—so much more than someone to call his own—she’s become his muse and his home, his haven and everything in between.

“You always look at me with longing even when I’m right here with you.”

He blinks at her, watching as her cheeks flush with pink under the watch of his amused eyes, loving how easily tranced he becomes in her.

She’s never been confident in herself. Ever since she was a little girl, she used her friendliness to somehow distract people from what she truly felt on the inside. She never truly touched base with her insecurities and never wanted to, so she always found ways to push the most damaging thoughts in the back of her head.

But Harry changed everything. He made her feel beautiful and loved in every way possible, she almost doesn’t understand how he could have so much of that love in him—especially for her. From the way he holds her all throughout the night to the small kisses and gestures whenever he has the chance, she feels it everywhere and she almost feels it in herself.

His sheepish smile confirms her statement, knowing fully that there will never be a moment he doesn’t want her, no matter where she is.

He walks slowly over to her, the smile never fading from his lips and the blush creeping back to Y/n’s cheeks as she turns her body to stretch her arms out at him. It’s the smallest moments like this that make them grateful for the kind of love they share—together.

He presses his lips to hers tenderly when he feels her fingers run across his stomach, his own fingers pushing the material of his sweatshirt up towards her breasts so that he can brush against the swell of them.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, quickly returning back to her lips as they softly release a whimper from the detachment.

She tastes so good—a mix of bitter and sweet from her coffee, leaving his mouth wanting more and more with each passing second. And what was supposed to be innocent turned to lust before they knew it—their movements much more haste and impatient.

In the midst of their desperation, Harry pushes her hips further against the edge of the counter, fingers digging into her skin as his mouth parts open with hers. They both moan into one another, completely consumed by the feeling of their relentless hands and feverish kisses.

Her hands are against his stomach, rubbing along his torso when he hitches her legs around his waist, leaving Harry in control of whatever it is that’s unfolding. Her squeal turns into a moan when his hips collide with hers, the friction making her head spin and body yearn for more.

He feels her hands creep toward the waistband of his sweatpants while his hands bundle up the sweatshirt over her breasts so that they’re fully exposed to him—revealing the most delicate parts of her.

And right as his lips attach to the valley of them, the ringing of the telephone breaks them from their moment.

“H—Harry, the phone.” Y/n gasps.

But he shows no sign of stopping when his teeth sink into an already bruised hickie from the night before, leaving her with shaking fingers between his hair and withering from the soreness. And he really can’t stop, because she feels like no other and she’s so addicting in every way possible. He wants her all to himself.

The answering machine almost dissolves into pure background noise for the both of them, too caught up in the moment.

“Hi, Harry, it’s your mum.”

Only five words and Harry feels the air being knocked right out of his lungs—seizing all his movements and thoughts as Y/n is left completely confused and panting upon the kitchen counter.

"I know it’s been a while and a lot has ended quite messy, but your father does miss you and well—we all miss you, Harry. We would really love for you to come over for dinner tonight as a late Christmas celebration. You don’t have to, but we’ll have an extra seat for you. And—uh—I love you so much. I wish you the best. Please call me soon.”

It’s as if the world around him is spinning faster than ever before—his brain overwhelmed with scrambled thoughts and ears ringing from the anxiety.

There would have been nothing to prepare him for this moment. He never thought he’d ever see his father again—much less be invited back over to his house after everything that’s happened. It’s been so long, he genuinely thought it was over—he thought all of the pain and fear was over, but his biggest nightmare is coming to life and he feels sick to his stomach.

His father is why he’s like this—mute and anxious in social situations. If his dad hadn’t repeatedly torn him down for never being good enough—hadn’t made him believe nobody would ever talk to a little shy boy—he would have probably gained the confidence to speak the more he matured.

But because his father shunned him for being shy and never making any friends, Harry was terrified of what people would think of him if he ever did make friends. Because if his own father didn’t love him, how could anybody else?

Y/n notices the tears in his eyes and his shallow breathing, which she’s quick to mend when her hands reach up to his cheeks. They’re hot and flushed, but all for the wrong reasons.

She frowns, lips peppering small kisses along his face in an attempt to bring him back to her. She doesn’t know much—or really anything—about Harry’s family life; all she knows is that she has never seen a picture of them in his house or any validation that he ever truly had one.

But as she catches the glimpse of fear in his eyes and the small quivering of his lips, he knows very well that there must have been something that went wrong. And even if she doesn’t know what it is that he went through, she knows that if he decides to do this or not, she’ll be right there with him.

“You’re scared.” She whispers, thumbs rubbing against his cheeks softly. “What is it you’re afraid of, baby? Talk to me, please.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his lips pursing together as loose tears fall from his eyes.

He’s never talked about his family problems and because all of this has happened so quickly, his words get trapped in his throat. To genuinely talk about his family and come to terms with his emotions seems all too much for him, especially when it’s hard for him to speak in the first place.

Y/n clicks her tongue while shaking her head softly, wrapping her around his neck as he nests his cheek into her shoulder. His muscles instantly relax in her arms and has a sense of clarity in her comfort, but there’s still an undeniable thumping in his chest that just can’t seem to go away.

“You don’t have to talk about this, love, but maybe this will be good for you. You know, to test the waters with your family. Maybe this could help you in the long run.”

And he wants to believe her—he really, really fucking wants to believe her—but he knows he can’t. Anywhere in his father’s path is detrimental to Harry’s social anxiety and he knows it’ll only make this worse for him in the long run.

“Y/n.” Harry groans, detaching her arms from his neck so that he can stand properly. His teeth are grit and eyes are distant—looking anywhere but her own and he swallows thickly around his words. “There’s a reason I don’t talk to anybody.”

His words are cracked and desperate—like a plea for Y/n to understand that this is different, that there will never be a day he’ll be able to face his problems. There have been too many times he’s found his way back and he always walks away with a damaged heart.

Y/n watches the way his fingers fiddle around one another and how he can’t stand still, it’s like watching the battle in Harry’s head and watching him fall apart from it.

And no matter how much she loves him now—the way he is now, even without much speaking—she doesn’t want to watch him suffer for the rest of his life. He’s the most undeserving man, he deserves the world and she knows he does.

His heart is nothing but pure and damaged—in need of mending and love. It’s the best part of him, really. It’s what brought them together and she feels the need to protect it at all costs.

He doesn’t feel it, though. He doesn’t feel what his heart has to offer and doesn’t see how it makes him so strong. He only sees himself as a ruin—a lost cause with nothing left to fight for, and he doesn’t deserve it. After what he’s been through, she needs him to understand that he is so much more than he thinks he is.

Because he is—he really is—no matter what he believes.

She holds his head in her hands to distract him from his consuming thoughts. His eyes shift in her gaze as he lets out a small breath.

“I just think it’ll be best to try again. I know—I see how hard it is for you to live the way that you do and I want to be here for you through everything. Things could be different this time—things could actually end well and you might be able to push through this. Because I know you, Harry, more than anybody else right now and I know you can push through this.”

She presses her forehead against his with a sigh leaving her lips, her thumbs running along his knuckles.

“And if there is any point you feel uncomfortable or upset, we can walk right out and leave. Just know that I will be there for you no matter what, okay? Just asking for you to try.”

It’s because she sounds so sure of herself that Harry actually agrees to go to the dinner. He knows that if it were a matter of him going alone, he would never even consider it. But knowing she is going to be right by his side—holding his hand through it all—maybe he doesn’t have to be so scared.

Maybe, it’ll actually be different this time.


It’s not different.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s really not any different than he expected it to be.

Upon their arrival, Harry’s mum and sister nearly fainted from seeing him at the front door. They thought their invitation would go dismissed, like the way Harry’s ignored them for the past three years. But looking at him for the first time in what felt like forever, they were nothing short of thrilled.

And to make it even better, he brought a girl. Harry was holding her hand tightly, keeping her tucked right into his side so that he could feel her with every step he took.

Anne and Gemma swore they had never seen something so heartwarming in their life—to the point where tears sprung from their eyes and arms flinging around their bodies. Y/n didn’t even have to introduce herself properly for them to love and approve of her, anybody who gets Harry to open up—in any way possible—is enough for them.

He was calm when it was just the four of them, Harry watching Y/n hit it off with his family so effortlessly. He noticed the fondness in all their eyes and this was how he wanted it to be forever.

But once they sat down for dinner, Harry knew something was about to happen.

His father didn’t acknowledge neither him nor Y/n in the slightest. Instead, he acted as if they weren’t there and only carried conversations with the rest of his family. And Harry wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way or not—wasn’t sure if he’d rather have his father at least notice him and hate him or have his father neglect him.

Y/n was trying to make the best out of the situation and he could tell. She found her way to the conversations even if his father didn’t respond to her, and still remained her perky self while doing so. She seemed unfazed through it all, almost like she didn’t feel the overwhelming amount of tension that surrounded the room.

She does it for him, though. She knew that if she showed just how uncomfortable his father was making her—he’d never be able to survive this dinner. She had to play strong enough for his sake.

But now that dinner has passed by and all that’s left are empty plates of food and mindless mingling, Harry feels nothing short of uncomfortable and misplaced under his father’s glare. It’s as if he’s waiting for Harry to speak out in the conversation, or do much of anything to make his presence known.

Y/n can see the soft shaking of Harry’s head and can feel the sweat on his palms with each passing second—just waiting for the end of the night so that they can go home and be alone at last.

“You know, Y/n, I never thought Harry would have a girlfriend.”

It’s the first time tonight his father spoke to Y/n directly, making the conversation she was having with Gemma come to a pause as she looked over at him with confusion. There’s a small pout on her lips as she tilts her head in question, almost unsure as to what he was implying. He has no expression on his face, only a small scoff and disapproving look in his eyes.

“How so? He’s lovely, any girl would be very lucky to have him. I’m just happy it’s me who does.”

Her fingers squeeze his thigh under the tablecloth; as if to tell him that there’s nothing to worry about. If his father wants to try hard enough to get to Harry, he has to try to get through her, first.

His father grumbles, his eyes shifting away from hers. The tenseness is his body seems to lighten, though, when an almost sadistic laugh falls from his lips—finding whatever he’s thinking quite amusing and entertaining.

“Isn’t it disheartening? Doesn’t it get boring, to be with a little boy who can’t even get his mouth to open? You seem to be a very intelligent, mature lady—I can tell by the way you talk. Don’t you think it’s a man’s purpose to be with somebody like you?”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, trying to silence the sudden voices in his head and focus on the feel of Y/n’s tightening hand.

All the childhood fights, all the times Harry had crawled underneath his bed during the night to get away from it all, and all the times Harry almost had the guts to speak up for himself only to be shut down from his father are all replaying in Harry’s head.

The anxiety creeps to his bones and in his muscles, straining him of all that’s left of his strength and leaving him with nothing but a shaking body and lack of control. Every part of him that felt alive before all of this is slowly dying at the seems—ready to be ripped out on his father’s account.

In any other situation, Y/n would have kept her mouth shut if it meant getting the support and approval of Harry’s family. But this—the way he’s talking about Harry as if he’s not right next to her, disrespecting him for something beyond his control is just not okay with her.

She’d rather stand up for the man she loves and believes in instead of watching him suffer in silence—the way his mum and sister are—with fear.

“Harry may not be a man of many words, but he’s the best thing I’ve got. There is so much more to him than his voice. There is so much more to him than you will ever know because you decided to be a shit father and give up on him without giving him a chance. He holds so much more potential than you could ever see, and that’s what’s wrong here. Harry’s not the problem, him being mute is not the problem, it’s you. Because why is it that everybody else can accept him and love him for who he is besides you?!”

The aftermath of her words silences everything around them. Nobody moves, nobody dares makes a sound besides their harsh breathing, because there could be something that makes either one of them snap and nobody wants to be the one to do so.

Y/n’s hands are in fists upon the table, eyes locked with his in fury and jaw so tight she almost doesn’t even look like herself. She’s turned into an entirely different woman with just the thought of Harry getting into harm’s way.

And although Harry really wants to show her appreciation for her words, he’s too panicked that he’s going to die from not being able to fucking breathe.

The silence is overwhelming, but Y/n is not giving up on him—on Harry. He had to live through this for far too long and she’s not allowing it anymore. He deserves better than this treatment—deserves better than to be looked down upon by somebody who’s supposed to be his provider.

“He’s the best thing you’ve got, yeah?”

His father is playing with his bottom lip, eyes narrowed and eyes in the same unpleasant manner as before. His voice is softer, though, more understanding than before and they both don’t know what to expect out of the conversation.

Y/n nods without hesitation, “He is.”

He watches as Y/n looks more determined and positive as ever, not a doubt or a trace of a lie in her features.

She means it—with her whole heart—she means it and she’ll never let anybody make her go back on her word. And she doesn’t have to say it twice, because Harry knows she’s genuine when she says it.

“You must have a very pathetic life, then.”

Harry’s eyes don’t move from their trance on the table—his body doesn’t make a move under his words. This is just how it always ends, and he just don’t know why he still fucking comes back here every goddamn time.

His throat is tight and his eyes are filled with tears. His skin is full of sweat and he swears his heart is beating much faster than it should. And even though he’s experienced this all before, knowing Y/n is being belittled by his father too makes it worse.

"We’re done here.” Y/n says sternly, grabbing ahold of Harry’s hand.

Y/n could have stood up for Harry much more, but she knew that if she started an even bigger brawl than what was already unfolding, Harry wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

He’s already drained of color and crying silently within his lost mind, and she’s absolutely terrified for his health.

She’s nearly dragging him out the door, Harry occasionally tripping over his own feet as he’s being drowned with the voices and the thumping in his chest. The world around him seems to be drowning and he can’t keep up with it all.

He just can’t.

“You can’t only keep her around because she’s the only one that’ll fight your battles for you, Harry! It’s only a matter of time before she realizes that you have nothing to offer her! You can’t give her anything with the way you are. You’re worthless!”

Before he could spew any more insults in Harry’s way, Y/n shuts the door in his face.


Harry knows his father was right.

In the long run, he doesn’t have much to offer her. He can’t be the boyfriend that she deserves to have.

He can’t be the boyfriend that can remind her of how much she’s loved or cared for. He can’t be the boyfriend to sing her to sleep whenever she can’t, or be the boyfriend to say his vows at their wedding for all to hear. He can’t be the boyfriend that—God forbid something were to happen to her—can ask for somebody to help her, or be the boyfriend to sway her family’s heart.

He can’t be anything to her besides somebody that she can sleep with at night and wake up to in the morning. Because that’s all it will be, and she’ll get so tired of being the one to be the only one talking to the other.

He’s nothing in her life, and that’s exactly why he can’t look at her anymore.

“Can you please just say something to me, Harry? I need to know why you’re upset with me or else we can never work through this.”

But how can they work through this when he can’t talk to her the way she wants him to?

Instead of answering right away, Harry presses on the gas pedal even harder than before. In the mix of all his emotions—anger, frustration, sad, and absolutely terrified—the only proper thought that can retain in Harry’s mind is dropping Y/n back to her apartment so that she doesn’t have to keep torturing herself with him.

The longer he feels her presence next to him, the more he realizes that he can’t love her the way she deserves to be loved—even if he really, really, really does love her with every ounce of his being.

“It was only—“ He swallows thickly, “It was only a matter of time before this was going to happen, Y/n.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she turns her head over to Harry, who has his lips pursed in a straight line while his eyes remain on the road.

There’s something different in him, now—something unreadable in his expressions and it’s something she’s never seen before. He seems broken somehow, like a man who’s been damaged one too many times that he’s become numb—emotionless with nothing left to feel.

“Before what was going to happen, Harry?”

She has an idea about what his words meant, but she doesn’t want to believe it. Not coming from him—not coming from the man who’s shown her nothing but how much love he has for her. There’s no way he could be doing this to her. He can’t do this to her.

“We were never going to last, Y/n. This was over long ago, we’re just on borrowed time.”

Borrowed time.

The sound of it leaves an unusually disturbing churn in Y/n’s stomach and a foul taste in her mouth. She feels as though Harry is taking his own hand and digging into Y/n’s chest, just so that he can grab ahold of Y/n’s heart and rip it to shreds himself.

Her hand subconsciously grabs onto the handle of the car door, eyes glistening with tears and lungs not daring to breathe. The air—instead of it being filled with their love—is now thicker and colder than ever.

She’s never been so confused—so lead on and so scared as to what is happening to them. They were supposed to make this last, they were supposed to make each other happy for the rest of their lives. He promised her he would, too—promised her nothing but love and trust in him.

But what is happening to them?

“How long have you thought that?”

She was tentative to ask, but she just has to know. She has to know if she’s done everything she’s done for nothing or if it actually held some sort of purpose at the time.

She’s terrified beyond words to find out the answer.

“Before or after you decided to sleep with me?”

Harry doesn’t want to make it seem like he never wanted this—never wanted her. He doesn’t want to make her think that he went through all that he did with her just to expect them to break up so soon. Because he didn’t, he never did. He would have never let her give him her virginity if he knew all of this was going to happen.

He loves her too much to do that to her, but also loves her enough to set her free.

So he decides to not answer her because not saying anything at all is easier for him than saying something he doesn’t mean. And he knows he will if it means letting her go and letting her move onto bigger and better things.

And it’s in his silence and twitch of his eyes does she find his answer.

“So you didn’t mean what you said last night. That we fit perfectly—that it’s like we’re meant to be? Or were they just words to you?”

A sob rips from inside of her when he still gives her nothing. She has never felt so hurt before—has never felt so betrayed. And suddenly, her skin feels dirty—sickened by what he’s done to her and how she could have been so stupid as to let it happen.

She feels it now, too. She feels the way his hands touched her that night, the way his lips kissed her that night, the way his hips rutted against hers and she feels so fucking filthy—used and used and used just for his own personal gain.

“Stop the car.”

It’s a weak demand, but Harry is pained to hear it. He has to hold himself back from comforting her and saying how terribly sorry he is for lying to her the way he is. But it’s just easier this way.

“I said stop the fucking car, Harry!”

Her yelling makes him flinch, and without hesitation makes him pull over to the side of the road. And the second he does so, he knows he shouldn’t have because he’d never be able to live with himself if he let Y/n walk in the cold alone, especially at night.

And right as he’s about to turn back, the sound of her hysteria makes his stop everything he’s doing. Her sobs are relentless in her hands and the thickest of tears fall from Harry’s eyes when he looks at the damage he’s done.

She looks helpless and utterly destroyed—he would have never thought of doing this to her if he’d known this is what would come out of it.

His heart is breaking at the sight of her like this.

As if on instinct, Harry reaches his hand over to her shoulder in an attempt to keep her calm. And even when they’re so close, they have never felt more emotionally distant than they do right now.

“No! Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me again!”

She isn’t sure if she means it or not, but the devastating look Harry gives her at her words proves that he knows she did.

The second his touch leaves hers, he feels them falling apart.

It really is over now.

She’s never felt more pathetic and humiliated in her life. Everything she thought was so real ended up being one of the biggest lies she’s ever lived. He had her fooled for months now and she had not a single clue—but she guesses that’s what happens when she falls in love too quickly.

She feels easy.

She swallows her cries as she opens the car door, not knowing where the hell she is or where the hell she’s going, but knowing that no matter where she ends up, it’ll be much better than being with him. 

“I hate you. I never want to see you again, not after this. Not after all that you’ve done to me.”

Harry’s eyes widen at her words, mouth falling open and a gasp falling from his lips. The reality of her words hits him with so much force that he genuinely feels every last bit of him fall apart.

And it’s when she walks away from him—from his life—that he breaks.

He chokes out a sob as his fingers grip the steering wheel, eyes as wide as ever and mouth not daring to shut.

Everything hurts. Every bone in his body feels like it’s breaking and every muscle feels like they’re tearing apart. It hurts so fucking much and Harry can’t stop crying, throwing his head back against the car seat as his hand hits the steering wheel in the midst of his hysteria.

She hates him.

But it’s better this way.

Blue Suede Shoes

Originally posted by inkedcross

Guys I wrote smut! finally. This was an idea that just popped into my head thanks to @mizpahes this is a single one shot, I might make it a series for decade!harry though so let me know what you think

masterlist [send requests]

50s!harry 

warnings: smut. its smut.

word count: 3,655

summary: the one where Harry takes his sweetheart out to a drive in movie 


The 1950’s, a decade made for teen rebellion. Of course, no one over the age of 30 would know that though. The movement was as silent and effective as a speakeasy of the 1920’s, it was popular only to those involved. Teenagers went out every weekend on innocent dates, they’d get dropped off at home with a polite kiss on the cheek only to come back a few hours later to sneak into their lovers room, or out, for that matter. America was thriving after the war and so was the Styles family.

Harry had moved to the states with his family after his father got a job offer to work for Cadillac. He was the best car dealer in Manchester and they needed someone like him working for their brand. So, the Styles’ were given their very own Cadillac dealership in the suburbs of New York and became an instant hit. Wealth hit them faster than they could even say the word ‘sold’, and Harry found himself gaining popularity at his High School just as quickly.

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andallwaswell-ish  asked:

Seamus and Harry are a couple. Draco really doesn't like that. (fanon) Pansy is just the person he needs

“Quick, Pansy, kiss me.”

Pansy stares at Draco, her face screwed up at the absurd suggestion. There are so many things wrong with that statement. First, ew, she is not nearly drunk enough. Second, she doesn’t like to be rushed. And third, most importantly, nobody tells Pansy what to do.

“I will do no such thing. Why would you – “ her eyes scan the Gryffindor common room, following Draco’s gaze, and fall on Harry Potter sitting on Seamus Finnigan’s lap – “Oh, I see now.” She sighs loudly, accepting her duty as best friend, but also making sure Draco knows just how unappealing she finds the idea. “Fine.”

The kiss is brief and methodical and, all in all, incredibly disagreeable. Pansy only hopes that Potter glances their way to see it so it isn’t all in vain. As soon as her mouth is her own again, Pansy downs the rest of her firewhiskey.  “Never, ever, make me do that to your chapped lips again.”

“Sorry,” Draco says, looking past Pansy – she’ll forgive his inattentiveness this once, “It’s just –

“You needed to make Potter jealous?”

“Yes and –“ Draco pauses, and his eyes finally land on Pansy. About time. “How did you know it was Potter?

Pansy snorts. Draco really is an idiot sometimes. “Well you hardly have a crush on Finnigan do you? And Blaise told me sometimes you say his name while – “

“I’ll have a word with Blaise later,” Draco says quickly, a small blush appearing on his face – that he would certainly deny if Pansy were to mention. “Now hold my hand, make it look like we’re an established couple. I don’t want Potter thinking I’m easy.  If you put your arm – “

Draco’s voice falters, his gaze back on Potter. Pansy turns to witness Potter and Finnigan locking lips in a rather exaggerated fashion. It’s not romantic or erotic. It’s just a kiss. The two must have zero chemistry, much like Pansy and Draco.

“Although, clearly, Potter is very easy.” Draco puts on his cold, taunting voice but his own jealously is obvious.

Pansy rolls her eyes. Sometimes dealing with Draco is like dealing with a small child. She moves beside him and wraps an arm around his waist so they can stare at Potter and his current boy toy together. The two have stopped kissing and are now drawing patterns on each other’s hands. Gryffindors, honestly. “Would you look at that, Draco dear? They’re holding hands. They must be an established couple as well.”

“Do you really think so? Finnigan doesn’t seem like Potter’s type at all. And I’ve never seen them alone together before. I would have noticed it if – “

“How about we go over and find out?” Pansy shoves Draco hard and is pleased when he stumbles forward. She enjoys catching him off guard.

“Wait – Pansy, no.” Draco tries to protest but it’s too late. Potter has spotted them. He extracts himself from Finnigan and stands up to greet them, a hand running through his hair. Pansy has to hold back a smirk – she knows Draco loves when Potter does that. Not that he’s ever said anything. He doesn’t have to.

“Malfoy. Parkinson,” Potter says without even glancing at Pansy. Typical. And predictable.

Finnigan stands up beside Potter. Draco – what a surprise! – ignores this. “Potter.”

“Finnigan,” Pansy adds, only to annoy Draco. He gives her a reproachful side eye before returning his gaze to Potter. She suspects it’s the last time he’ll glance her way tonight.

They all stand there in silence. Potter staring intently at Draco. Draco staring intently at Potter. And Finnigan sharing a knowing look with Pansy. At least he’s not as stupid as he looks then.

Finally, Potter speaks up. “I didn’t know if you’d come tonight.”

“I never miss a party…even if it is hosted by Gryffindors.”

It’s not true. Draco has missed several parties over the years. But at this stage, Pansy doesn’t think Potter or Draco would even notice if she spoke so she keeps her mouth shut.

“Might be time for a Slytherin party next,” Potter says.

Draco is clearly holding back a smile. Pansy bets he is creaming his bloody pants at getting to have an actual conversation with Potter. “We get a little wild in the dungeons.” They don’t. “Are you sure you could handle it, Potter?

“I think I could rise to the challenge.”

“Subtle,” Pansy whispers to Finnigan. Honestly, Potter’s clearly got it as bad as Draco. It’s embarrassing to watch this train wreck unfold.

“So, Finnigan, that’s new.” Draco doesn’t even acknowledge that the person in question is still by Potter’s side. Finnigan shoots Pansy an amused look at being blatantly ignored. Things are clearly not serious with Potter.

“Very. And Parkinson?”

“I’m right here you know?” Pansy interjects, unable to hold back. But it makes no difference anyway. Only Finnigan hears her.

“It’s been a while,” Draco lies. Pansy wants to smack him around the head. Sure, she is happy to help make Potter jealous but there’s no need to exaggerate.

“Really? I always thought you were just friends?”

“Yes, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”’

“Like how he calls out your name every night in bed,” Pansy mutters underneath her breath. Finnigan, at least, catches and appreciates the jab if no one else does.

“Of course. Sorry Malfoy, I didn’t mean to question you. I’m just having a hard time grasping you and Parkinson together. I thought you were…you know.” Potter trails off, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Pansy holds back a groan. It’s like listening to children with these two.

“Gay? Like you?”

“Actually, I’m bisexual,” Potter corrects. “But yeah.”

“Finnigan doesn’t seem like your type.”

Finnigan flips a half-hearted bird at Draco. Not that he notices.

“And Parkinson doesn’t seem like yours.”

“Because I’m out of his league,” Pansy points out, flipping her own violent bird at Potter. She doesn’t know why she’s even bothering standing here anymore.

Draco takes a step forward. “So, what’s my type then, Potter?”

Potter mimics Draco’s action so that they’re almost chest to chest – Really? “What’s mine?”

“You need someone who doesn’t hero worship you, someone who will hold you accountable for all your actions, someone who isn’t afraid of your temper. You need someone who challenges you.”

Pansy shares a confused look with Finnigan – did they rehearse this or something? Draco’s not usually this smooth with his words, especially with Potter in such close proximity.

“And you need someone who understands your vulnerability but doesn’t use it against you, someone who treats you gently, someone whose affection is unwavering. You need someone who forgives you.”

They must have rehearsed this. Pansy has never heard Potter say anything remotely intelligent before. And she hasn’t known him to be particularly observant either.

“And I suppose you could never forgive me after all that I’ve done?” Draco hits back, still just as smooth. This is getting ridiculous.

“I already have,” Potter responds immediately as if reading a line from a script. From a terrible cheesy muggle romance movie that Pansy would never be caught dead watching. Yet here she is witnessing this sappy display.

“What about Finnigan?”

“I was using him to make you jealous,” Potter admits. Pansy looks to Finnigan for confirmation – he winks. “Did it work?”

Despite using the exact same trick himself, Pansy can see Draco is outraged at being manipulated. “Fuck you, Potter.”

“You wish.”

And then they’re kissing. Enthusiastically. Way too close to Pansy’s face. She can see every stray strand of saliva, hear every lubricated slide of their mouths. It’s revolting. And worse still, they’ve become the centre of the attention at the party, eyes drawn to Draco and Potter’s embrace with Pansy and Finnigan standing by awkwardly, looking like dejected fools.

Pansy could spoil it by pinching the hairs on the back of Draco’s neck in vengeance for being ignored. Luckily, she’s feeling particularly generous tonight, and she’d never admit it, but seeing Draco with Potter is sweet. In a disgusting, horrible, sappy way of course. But still, sweet. Now she just has to focus on her own happy ending. She spies Hermione Granger’s amongst the watchful eyes around them and takes her moment:

“Quick, Finnigan, kiss me.”

~ Taking notice in best friend!Hoseok’s friend, Yoongi~ PART SIX

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 7]

Originally posted by sugaa

“Sorry, I don’t think I heard you,” Hoseok tilted his head toward you, eyes still trained on the road.

“He was with a girl,” You repeated, slowly.

“What!? With who?”

You shrugged, “Didn’t bother to find out. Whoever it was, they were holding his hand, standing a little too close to him and staring at him as if he was the only man in her life.”

“Uh, it could–”

“Can’t be a relative. The way they were was too…intimate,” Then you let out a humorless chuckle, “Who knows? Maybe they’re making out in some mirror maze right about now,” You looked out the window. Then Hoseok parked the car, not anywhere near either of your houses. 

“Y/N, don’t say that. Yoongi really likes you. He wouldn’t–”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t. I’m just as confused as you are,” You crossed your arms, stubbornly. 

“Then why didn’t you ask him?” He asked, turning so that his left arm was rest on the steering wheel and his body was facing you. 

Looking down in embarrassment, you shrugged, “I didn’t want to make any assumptions…but I saw them together and Hobi…they looked really good together. Way better than Yoongi and I’d be.”

What are you talking about? Have you seen your pictures together? You’re the most compatible couple I’ve ever met! Even better than the Jikook bromance,” Hoseok shook his head.

“But you didn’t see them.”

“Didn’t have to. You guys belong together. He was going to ask you out, you know?”

“Yeah,” you muttered under your breath.

“You did?”

“I kind of figured by how he texted me. And then I saw him with some other girl, flirting or not, and I was terrified. I’ve been single for nearly my entire life and if there’s one thing I learned, is that I am not girlfriend material.”

“Don’t be silly, Y/N. You’ve been Yoongi’s girlfriend for the past few months without officially being his girlfriend,” Hoseok rolled his eyes at your obliviousness. 

“I have?”

“Yeah! Who’s the one to visit him when he’s stressed with work? You. Not to mention, who’s the only one he lets in while he’s working? You. And who’s the one to make that gummy smile appear on his face whenever they’re around? Oh, let me thing. You! Y/N, he’s so in love with you, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

Normally this would be when you’d quickly deny his feelings for you, but this time, you didn’t. “He’s in love with me?”

“Head over heels in love with you,” Hoseok confirmed with a grin. 

“Then what was he doing?” You pondered.

Hoseok shrugged in response. “Maybe it was an ex trying to get him back. Yoongi wouldn’t do that to you. Did he in any way seem happy that she was there?”

“I might’ve not seen his face. Kind of hard when you’re faced with some stranger clutching onto your boyfriend’s––er, crush’s––hand.”

“Confront him. He might still be at the pier!” Hoseok urged, starting the car back up again.

“I don’t think I’ll have to,” You looked at your phone when you received a message. Yoongi.

“Why’d you answer so nicely?” Hoseok piped after reading over your shoulder, both of you parked in front of your apartment building.

“What am I supposed to do? Yell at him? I don’t think I’d want to provoke him by accusing him of anything. If he wants to explain, he’ll explain,” You nodded to yourself, proud of your answer.

“Good luck,” He gave you a smile and a thumbs up. After returning the gesture, weakly, you stepped out of the car and entered the building. 

“If she’s hurt by the end of the night, I will not hesitate to punch him in the throat,” Hoseok mumbled to himself, driving home.


I didn’t think I’d finish this so quickly but hereeee! 

part seven??

dissonance [4]

summary: James apologizes. || hades!bucky x persephone!reader

warnings: none? 

note: Feedback is always appreciated! I hope you guys like this!

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BTS skinship in public vs in private

my second post in my BTS reactions/preferences series whoopidy whoopidy whoop. are they reactions or preferences? ahhh idek anymore gah

also PLEASE message me any requests you have whether they be dirty reactions or fluffy imagines, I WANNA HEAR THEM ALL :P

the following content is for mature minds only ;)

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Ambiguous Love

Hi friends! I spent so much time with this story and love it very much. Hopefully you will too. 
Songs that inspired this incase you wanna listen to them: 
-Aint Me by Kygo
-Attention by The Weeknd
-Comes & Goes by Greg Laswell

Request: Kinda, it’s about H being jealous but the main plot is from me. 
Warning: Mild curse language and lots of heart break. 

Gif isn’t mine and I would probably melt if he were to look at me like this.

A sour taste on his tongue combined with foul thoughts clouding his mind was what let him know that something was very wrong with him.

Harry was aware that his eyes weren’t supposed to stare at the guy standing close to Y/N as if he was murdering him in his head over and over again, even when that was just what was going on. With narrowed eyes he watched the foreign male touch his hand to her back in a far too intimate gesture as he laughed at something she’d said. How dare he do that?
Harry sat with his back to the kitchen as he watched her where she stood in the living room. He made a mental note to remind Jeff not to invite this guy again next time he held a small get together at his place.
Harry’s jaw tensed. Y/N was his. He was the only male she should give her attention to. The only one who should have his hands on her.

The guy wasn’t anybody Harry knew by name and he was sure to never bother to learn it either. He knew the guy was somebody who’d come around to these kind of parties a couple of times already and every time he was lingering around Harry’s Y/N the moment he had the chance. Harry did not like that one bit. Hot jealousy rushed through his body and with one last sip from his beer he got to his feet.

This needed to stop. He knew that it was him who caused Y/N to be alone and without a boyfriend and he wasn’t oblivious to how upsetting that was to her at times. This was unfair he knew but somehow Harry couldn’t find it in him to feel guilty. Other guys weren’t blind and found Harry gawking at the girl they were trying to chat to more than just intimidating, so with the majority of them one glare sufficed for their hands to pull away and leave Y/N’s smooth skin.
Harry felt like his behavior was justified. There was no way he could let his Y/N fall for a man who surely wouldn’t adore her enough. Harry wouldn’t ever allow Y/N to have a male’s hands on her body who couldn’t possibly be as tender with her as she deserved. If this meant Y/N would be alone and have no-one but Harry to love on her then so be it.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and began to walk over to where she was, his mind busy trying to come up with an excuse to steal her away. The unknown guy noticed Harry’s presence before Y/N did and like the rest of the flirtatious males he withdrew his touch from her almost instantly.
Harry didn’t say anything, not even when the guy greeted him with a polite smile. Instead he took hold of Y/N’s small hand, giving her fingers a tight squeeze before he began to pull her away from the bloke and towards the kitchen where he knew they would find some peace and quiet.
Slowly Harry relaxed. Feeling her warm skin in his palm and being able to just pull her closer and into his side where he could breathe her in… it had a smile pull at his lips.

With quick feet the girl hurried after him.

“What’s wrong?” her kind voice wondered once her friend pulled her into the deserted kitchen and she gasped quietly when his hands forced her up against the counter.

With discomfort written all over her face she pressed her hands against his chest so he would allow her to move away from the cold counter and closer into him.

“Ouch,” she complained quietly, “What the matter, Harry? Are you okay?”

„Who was that?“ Harry’s words were spoken was rough and lower than he intended and both of his hands balled into fists at his sides.

Y/N’s expression softened. “Harry, you can’t tell me that you don’t like Craig either. You haven’t even spoken to him. He’s quite nice, you know?”

„Quite nice?“ Harry repeated, stepping closer to her body, pushing her right back against the counter, „Huh? Was that bloke quite nice to you then?”

„Yes,“ Y/N tried to argue, her hands brushing up against his shoulders in an attempt to calm him, „And I don’t like how you always make me feel as though I need your approval when I talk to a guy.“

Harry swallowed hard. With a sigh he raised his hand and her body relaxed when his palm touched her cheek gently.

„You don’t need my permission. Of course you don’t.” He sighed before shaking his head, a deep frown on his forehead as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. The words were right there on his tongue.
“S’just… I don’t like it, you know? You with another guy.”

“Why?” Y/N wondered, her hands squeezing his shoulders, “I wouldn’t let anybody treat me badly, you know that. There’s neither reason to be protective nor worried.”

At that he rolled his eyes. Oh how wrong she was. As wrong as one could be. “That’s not what’s bothering me. How could anybody mistreat you?”

And he meant it then. How could anybody hurt the girl standing in his arms? She was so utterly kind without ever demanding anything in return. Her heart beat for the people she loved and it melted his own when she looked at him like he was all she could see.
That was what he was so afraid of losing. Losing to somebody else.

“Not with you gawking at every move either of us make, no,” Y/N giggled, again not understanding just how deep the meaning behind his words was.

With a sigh rumbling through his chest he stepped closer, his hands finding her wrists and she whined when he forced her arms up with a gentle but swift yank so they would wrap around his neck. A satisfied hum escaped his lips and he closed his eyes. Catching on to what he wanted she wound her fingers through his soft curls and pressed a loving kiss to his cheek when he stepped close enough for them to be embracing tightly. Y/N laughed quietly.

“Harry, love, how much did you have to drink?”

“A beer,” he grumbled truthfully, a frown forming, “Can’t a man get some love from his favorite girl without being accused of anything?”

“Of course he can,” she replied in a whisper, her heart beating so fast she feared it might fly right out of her chest and away into the sky. She tightened her hold around his shoulders and shivered when he moaned at the sensation of her fingers scratching the back of his neck.

Harry pressed his mouth to her neck. “Do we have to go back?”

“To the party? Yes,” she giggled against his jaw, “But we don’t have to stay that much longer.”

This pleased him. “Good. Don’t want you near Craig.”

“Hey, you just said that you agree with me not needing your permission for what I do.”

Harry pulled back and looked at her with arched brows. “So you want to do-”

She groaned and shook her head rapidly with her eyes squeezed shut. “No, I don’t want to do anyone so don’t even start.”

Reluctance gnawed at his insides but he forced himself to step out of her hold anyway. She was right. He needed to let her have space. Y/N gave him a warm smile before leaning up to press another kiss to his skin, this time his cheek.

“Harry, please…” she spoke softly, her lips brushing his cheek, “I really want to finally meet somebody, you know? And maybe Craig is going to ask me out so… don’t scare him away.”

There was nothing he could say.
Harry’s heart sank when he watched her step away from him and walk back into the living room where he knew Craig awaited her already. And sure enough when Harry followed, discomfort flooding his body, he saw the male he already disliked greatly smile and hold out a hand for Y/N. Greedily he grabbed her fingers and brought them to his wet lips, a sight that made Harry’s stomach turn. Surely Y/N didn’t like this behavior either, he thought and true enough Y/N’s smile wasn’t all honest. The guy squeezed her shoulder before saying something that made her laugh and for a moment Harry could actually feel himself wanting to punch the guy blue. A feeling Harry was not used to at all.
Harry wasn’t a fighter. He was a lover. But oh if Y/N didn’t provoke a side out of him he hadn’t known before.  
Fuck it.
Harry’s feet carried him towards his Y/N before his mind could catch up and in few quick strides he reached her. His hands found her shoulders, squeezing and rubbing them soothingly to get her to turn around and face him.

“Harry?” she wondered, surprise and confusion written all over her features, “What’s wrong now? Are you okay?”

“Sorry, Craig.” Harry breathed the words dedicated to the male standing behind Y/N but his eyes never left her lovely face.

They heard Craig ask what Harry was sorry for but neither of them got to reply before Harry leaned down and connected his mouth with Y/N’s warm lips. It took a lot of bravery not to pull away when he felt the girl gasp and her entire body go rigid. His heart beat so heavily in his chest and his head was dizzy but he refused to stop kissing her and instead continued to move his lips against hers with as much pressure as he dared. It was when he felt the soft touches of her hesitant fingers agains his neck that he knew he’d won. Sure enough she began to return his kiss, moaning and whining against him quietly whilst she allowed her arms to wrap around his neck.
Harry could have rejoiced.
Y/N’s lips were soft, warm and fitted so perfectly against his own he wondered how he hadn’t kissed her before. Her body cuddled into his as if she were his missing puzzle piece and he liked how well his own arms wrapped around her waist. She gasped when his tongue poked into her mouth and he sighed deeply upon getting to kiss her properly. His hands grasped her neck, the back of her head before letting them drop to her backside where he allowed himself to hold onto her in the least groping way he could.
His heart swelled when he heard her giggle softly and he moaned upon feeling her hands move across his shoulders.

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James: here’s my technique, spend 3 years pining, then tell him you love him every time you see him until eventually he gives in. That’s what I did with Evans and she’s nearly almost let me hold her hand, so if you do this-


Sirius: oi remus, you wanna go to hogsmead with me, as a date?


Remus: sure cool


James: *gaping at them*

anonymous asked:

Supercorp at a baseball game

When Kara asks if she’s free Saturday, she immediately makes sure she is.

When Kara, fingers coated in cheese and salt and salsa, drags her up bleacher after bleacher until they reach the perfect spot, she realizes maybe she should’ve asked why.

“Want one?” A chip is held towards her, cheese slipping off and falling in a clump on the bleacher between them. “It’s okay. I’ll get it.”

She doesn’t wait to see what Kara means by that, turning her attention back to the people milling about the field. A part of her knows what Kara intends, and her stomach twists at the thought.

“All good.”

When she glances down, the cheese is gone and Kara looks unnervingly proud of herself.

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Home Bill Skarsgård x Reader

Warning: None

Request: isthecomet

Prompt: Bill is taking you to Sweden to see his family

Note: I got nothing. Enjoy. XD!

Originally posted by fiaboutella

Originally posted by im-merian

You were nervously fiddling with anything you could find in your reach. Your necklaces, your bracelets, going on the phone, scrolling through the channels in the small tvs, anything to avoid looking outside the window.

You were rather nervous since not only was this the first time you were on an airplane flying out of the country, but you were flying to see your boyfriend Bill Skarsgård’s family. Yes, the famous Swedish family of famous and well known actors were awaiting for your arrival.

This was the first time you’d be meeting them in person, obviously your boyfriend had told them about you a lot and how beautiful and sweet and kind you are. From what you knew Bill’s parents were Stellan and My Skarsgård who had give birth to his older brothers Alexander, Gustaf, and Sam before him and then his little sister Eija and his younger brother Valter.

You were bouncing your leg making the mistake of looking out the window at the dark clouds as the air plane shook from turbulence. You squeaked and gripped onto the arms of the chairs tightly taking sharp breaths.

You felt like you were about to have a panic attack. However a gentle, assuring hand took yours and you looked over to see Bill was looking at you concerned.

“You okay?” He asked.

You gulped and nodded. Bill knew this was your first time flying and gently brushed his thumb against your tense knuckles. Half an hour later the captain announced they were going to landing soon and you sighed in relief only to feel anxiety grow again about meeting the Skarsgård family.

What if they didn’t like you?

What if they thought you were ugly and open about it?

What if they would laugh about how Bill had decided to marry an American girl who didn’t even look pretty?

“(Name)?”

“Mm? I’m fine.” You lied.

“Your nervous about meeting my family, are you?” He said softly.

“A little…” You sighed.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve sent pictures and Mum said that I picked a beautiful women…and she wasn’t kidding.” Bill said continuing to brush your knuckles.

You blushed lightly at his comments and he chuckled since he liked to make you do that a lot. Sure enough you landed and just as expected Bill’s family were standing there waiting. As soon he walked over they started speaking in their foreign language making you shift uncomfortably, especially when Bill’s father pointed towards you.

“(Name), c'mere!” Bill called.

You nodded and went towards Bill’s side. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him making you feel a little comfortable.

“Hello, you must be (Name)?” My asked.

You nodded and she smiled before holding her hands out, “Welcome to the family.”


After the airport drive you and Bill were constantly asked questions about America and how your health and if you were married or a baby on the way (which really turned your face red). The whole time Bill was comfortingly holding your hand allowing you to quickly build some confidence to talk.

You finally arrived to the house and smiled when you noticed they had a trampoline and a pool with a hot tub. You wanted to jump off the trampoline into the pool but pretended not to notice them since this was someone else’s home.

It was more of a mansion-home then a house-home really. Alex was a gentleman and offered to take your suitcase which you accepted since you knew he was just trying to show off to his parents. As soon as you walked in you took your shoes off and Bill lead you around letting you know where the bathrooms and offices and other rooms were.

He finally arrived to his room and sighed as he looked at all of it. Old band posters hung on the wall, the bed was tucked and pressed wrinkle free, a computer with a desk in the corner, two walk in closets, and a beautiful view outside the window.

You walked over to sit on the bed and stare in awe at the crystal clear water in the pool that looked like it came from the Mediterranean Sea. You were in so much awe you didn’t realize Bill was kissing your cheek to get your attention.

You turned towards him and saw him smile, “Sorry about that with my mother. She’s a bit of a pain when it comes to wanting kids and being a grandmother.”

“Well maybe if you kneel down and ask the question I’ll accept.” You teased.

“Me kneel?” Bill scoffed pushing your shoulder gently.

You giggled as you two got into a play fight as he was gently trying to wrestle you to the bed. Eventually he had you pinned down by your wrists and he was sitting on your waist leaning over you.

You were giggling uncontrollably well Bill was breathing heavily from the struggle you put up. It was like one man trying to wrestle and pin down a snake.

“Does the winner get a prize?” He asked.

“Mmm. Depends if he deserves it or not.” You replied.

Bill laughed and leaned down to kiss you. After a few seconds he let go of your wrists to lean more on his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him down closer.

“Hey, I know mom wants a kid but you don’t have to listen to her.”

Bill quickly broke away to turn and see his brother Valter was standing there grinning like a cat. Bill threw a pillow towards him yelling at him to get out and his little brother laughed and said, “Alright, alright I’m going. I just came up here cuz Mum wants us down for dinner.”

With that Bills brother walked off leaving you two alone. Bill climbed off of you and helped you up before fixing your hair for you so it didn’t look like you were thinking of fulfilling Bills mothers wishes.

Bill was kind enough to lead you down to the kitchen and sat down at the table. Dishes were already served and it looked like a professional restaurant meal where the soup costs $30. Also you thought it was ironic the meal was Swedish meatballs on top of egg noddles with that light gravy.

You wanted to try Swedish food but…I guess that counted.

Definitely tasted better than the frozen boxed Swedish meatballs you can find in the frozen aisle section. When dinner was over you and Bill headed back upstairs and this time he lead you to your room which was the guest room.

It was just 3 doors down (heh, accidental references/puns :3 and wasn’t as big as his room but it was still much bigger than the normal houses guest rooms. There was a bathroom with a glass shower, a queen sized bed, a giant flat screen tv, and along with your suitcase Alex took, was a tacky shirt laying on the bed that said “I ❤️Sweden”.

You and Bill chuckled at it and you sat down on the oversized bed liking the smoothness of the silk sheets.

“Sorry about my family they’re…..strange, and just happy you had came here.” He apologized.

“Are you kidding me I love your family. I’m just happy they accepted me in.” You replied opening your suitcase.

You were just checking to make sure you had everything from your toiletries to your lingerie (that Bill was eyeing in a perverted way) and especially of course your clothes. Everything was in order and you had enough clothes to stay for 3 days as planned. Bill was lucky since he still had clothes over so all he needed to bring was a duffel bag with a few clothes and supplies.

“Well I’ll be in my room if you need anything okay?” He asked kissing your head.

“Okay.” You replied with a smile.


Later on it was midnight and you were in your guest room but you just couldn’t sleep due to that natural instinct of your brain wanting to remain awake since you were in new surroundings. You tossed and turned but you couldn’t sleep and you didn’t want to bug Bill and wake him up.

You guessed you were just used to sleeping with him at night. Grunting and groaning you climbed out of bed and trudged down the hallway trying to be quiet to not wake anyone up. You arrived to Bill’s door and gently turned it to see he was asleep snoring quietly.

You quietly shut the door and tiptoed to his bed before climbing in right next to him without trying to wake him up. A few minutes later you still couldn’t sleep and you were starting to get frustrated.

You tired that old trick of counting sheep but that didn’t help much either. When you were on sheep 236 you heard Bill’s voice laced with sleep asking, “What are you doing in my bed?”

You rolled over to face him and sighed softly before explaining, “I couldn’t sleep. I tried everything but nothing worked.”

“C'mere.” Bill said opening his arms.

You scooched over to his hug and as soon as his arms wrapped around you, you instantly felt like you were home. Sweden was Bill’s home, your home was in America, but in truth both of your homes were when you were in each others arms.

You snuggled close to him and smiled when you felt him gently kiss your forehead well stroking your hair.


The next couple of days Bill took you around Sweden to see the country. It was such a beautiful and perfect day to go to the beach and splash around in the water. You visited other famous tourist landmarks and went hiking and it was so perfect.

You even tried so many Swedish foods you never heard of before. As much as you loved it here and as much as you loved Bill’s family you sadly had to leave but you had gotten a few souvenirs to remember this place.

The plane ride home was thankfully less terrifying and shaky and you just leaned on Bills shoulder who was satisfied he had gotten his parent’s blessing to finally call you his for the rest of your life….

“Hey Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“Your breath smells like a sheep’s butt.”

“…..love you too.”

Epilogue: Last of isthecomets requests are done so now I can work on the others. I love getting requests from you guys. You guys are awesome for loving Bill. And thanx for reading! =3!

Fuel to Fire (3)

Stucky x reader

Notes: fluff, tattooing, some angst, smut (m/m and m/m/f), anxiety, depression, mentions of parental negligence, swearing. 

Summary: Living their dream, Bucky and Steve run their tattoo shop ‘American Ink’ together, happily married for several years and business is going well. When a girl walks into their shop and inevitably into their lives right after they’ve received some exciting news, they have no idea how their lives are about to change with some harmless but straight-forward flirting.

Fuel to Fire (intro) Fuel to fire (2)

A/N: Take caution, guys. It’s pretty sad and graphic story telling. 

“There’s something about her, Buck. She’s smart, gorgeous; but there’s something different” Steve muses as he’s calmly, though focused, moving his pencil across paper. The sketchbook lays on Bucky’s shins that are haphazardly placed in Steve’s lap.

“I know. I’m not sure what it is either, but there’s a darkness there” Bucky muses, watching their giant flatscreen television, though not really watching whatever show is playing.

“Yeah” Steve mumbles, and Bucky notices he’s not drawing anymore.

“Can I see?”

Steve shrugs and hands his sketchpad over. The design is simple, no fuss, exactly like Y/N comes across to them. The front sight of an Orchid, a straight lined triangle drawn over it. Within the lines of the triangle, the Orchid is detailed and clear. Outside of them, the petals of the flower are dark coloured and detailed as well, like looking at the negative of a photograph. It’s a rough draw, but beautiful on its own.

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