then look at the trunks of the trees next to him

Supernatural School Pt. 2

Part 1 (X)


It always takes time to sort yourself out after a reaping, even a relatively pleasant one. That’s why, even though you’d like to rejoin Sam, Amanda and Lexi in the cafeteria, you head back to the dorms.

You don’t feel any different after. Some legends say that you eat the souls of the dead, praying on them for sustenance. You’d like to say that Reapers never do that, that they never commit such a heinous crime, but you’ve been around long enough to know better than to lie. There are words for Reapers who eat, none of which you’d dare say here. Names give things power and eaters get more than their fair share to begin with.

You shiver under the blazing sun and try to turn your mind to more pleasant topics.

You are halfway back to your room, when you see Ms. Jan, Mr. T and Principal Finn rushing towards the animal husbandry building. Mr. T’s upset enough that his mane has burst free of his button-down shirt though he’s the only one of the three so affected. Ms. Jan, all banshee characteristics gone, is composed as she leads the group, strides long and purposeful. Principal Finn is listening to her seriously, his wheelchair rolling over the grass easily, with a grim expression on his face.

This is, of course, until he sees you.

You keep your expression blank as Principal Finn says something to Ms. Jan and Mr. T, gesturing for them to go on, and then directs his motorized wheelchair towards you.

Keep reading

the-queen-sees-all  asked:

I was wondering, what if Harry and Hermione had met before Hogwarts?

The first time Harry Potter met Hermione Granger, she was standing with her chin up and her hands on her hips a few paces from the old olive tree in the schoolyard, glaring into the far distance. The wind was trying to twist and buffet her hair into her face, but mostly it was just tangling cheerfully with itself.

Dudley and Piers were busy kicking all the other kids off the play structure, so Harry had retreated out into the grass. He stood a safe distance from the weird girl who was pretending to be a statue and thought wistfully of lunch.

“There’s a fallen bird’s nest,” the girl said in a rapid and certain tumble of syllables. “The boys knocked it out of the tree, but I chased them off and I’m hoping the mama bird comes back. I’m Hermione Granger. We just moved here.”

“Harry,” he said.

“How’d you get that scar?” she said.

“Car accident.”

“That’s a weird scar for a car accident.”

Harry shrugged. “It killed my parents.”

She blinked quickly at him and even at that distance he wished vaguely that she wore glasses, too, because her gaze was something that really felt like it should have some built-in bluntedness. “Mine are dentists. Mum’s taking me to the library after school, want to come?”

-

Before they went into Diagon Alley, Harry asked Hagrid if they could find a payphone. Hermione picked up on the first ring.

“Harry! Where have you been? I’ve been trying and trying to call–”

“Sorry, yeah. Um, so, I’m not coming back to school next year, I…” Harry drifted off, staring at Hagrid’s massive moleskin shoulders. The giant man saw him looking and gave him a tentatively cheerful little wave. “It’s been weird, Herm.” He pressed his forehead into the phone stand, but not too hard. “I think you’re the only thing I’m really going to miss.”

“Harry,” Hermione said and Harry started to frown, because that wasn’t her stern and startled voice. That was the voice that meant she was off down a charging war path of other thought and might not have heard him at all. “I’ve been reading.”

“Of course you’ve been reading,” he said. “I’ve been being forcibly hidden from a swarm of post office owls–”

“You’re in books,” she said in breathless delight, squeaking over the telephone line. “First thing we did, of course, after the professor explained, was get her to escort us to a bookstore– a whole bibliography, Harry, a whole world’s bibliography I haven’t even touched– how am I ever going to–” She took in a little calming breath, and murmured, “Different infinities, it’s okay, Hermione, okay.” A sharp exhale and then she tumbled right back into her rushing rivelet of a sentence. “And I picked up a good dozen, besides the school books, of course, and Harry, you’re in books, in Dark Wizardwork of This Century and A Modern Wizards’ History and October’s End: A Biography–”

“Hermione,” said Harry with slow enunciation. “Are you a wizard, too?”

“A witch, I think,” she said. “But I’m still reading up on the sociology of it all.”

-

Hagrid wouldn’t say Voldemort’s name, but Hermione would. She came over with a stack of books up to her chin, gave the Dursleys her normal pointed little stare that said she’d like to set them a little on fire, and curled up in his cupboard with him.

He supposed she probably could learn how to set them on fire, now, if she really wanted to.

She gave him passages and excerpts with his name in them, with his parents’ names, a home he hadn’t known. There were pictures of a ruined house with the smoke drifting in little curls of ink. There was his mother, smiling and waving in black and white. There was his mother, laid out on the floor, with a sober little caption below it. That picture was still, except for curtains fluttering in the window.

Hermione finally dragged her face far enough up from the pages to see Harry holding his own hand very tightly, and then she closed the book and reached for one about which magical creatures you should pet and which you shouldn’t.

“Sorry,” she said.

“I wanted to know.”

“I’m still sorry.”

-

The Grangers drove Harry, Hermione, Hedwig, and their trunks to King’s Cross Station. Mrs. Granger kissed the top of Hermione’s head while Mr. Granger mussed Harry’s mop of dark hair affectionately, and then they swapped children and repeated the treatment. Hermione pushed her hair back out of her face and marched them all to Platform 9 ¾, the entrance mechanism of which she had read all about.

“Before you go,” Mrs. Granger said, “let’s buy you some sandwiches? I don’t know what sort of food they’ll have past that–”

“There’s a trolley,” Hermione said, but her parents dragged them off to a snack kiosk anyway, Harry happily in tow.

As they were on Hermione’s tight schedule, there were plenty of compartments open, and they took one all to themselves– well, to themselves, Hedwig, and Hermione’s books, which took up two seats. (Harry would wheedle Hagrid into taking him to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping that year, where he would get Hermione a carry-all bag for her small personal library.)

Hermione took a long preparatory breath while Harry unwrapped his sandwich. “Harry? What if I go and sit down under the Hat and I just sit and sit there, and then it says I’m not a witch at all?” Hermione said, the words getting more squashed together and higher-pitched as she went. “I’m not magic, it just got confused, and they send me home? Harry, I don’t want to be a dentist. Other people’s mouths are disgusting–”

“You’re not going to get kicked out,” Harry said, chewing amiably on his sandwich. It was not good, but the Dursleys hadn’t bothered with any breakfast for him and he hadn’t wanted to bother the Grangers about it either. It was a bit dry on the way down, but it settled warmly in his belly.

“But what if I do?”

“I’ll stage a protest,” said Harry. “Refuse to do my homework til they reinstate you.”

“You’re not going to do your homework anyway.”

“See how dedicated I am to you.”

She made a dismissive little noise at him, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Hermione,” he said, and she lifted her bush of hair to look at him. “You’re the most magical person I know. It’s gonna be alright.”

She gave a long slow blink but whatever she might have said was interrupted by an uneven knock at the door. “Um,” said the pudgy boy standing there. “I’ve lost my toad.”

Hermione leapt to her feet. “Where did you see him last?”

Harry followed in the wake of her forward charge, but he brought the rest of his sandwich with him.

-

(Harry did not know this and would not know this until Mrs. Granger mentioned it casually over a Christmas dinner years and years later– but she and Mr. Granger reported the Dursleys for child abuse and neglect, over and over.

The reports got lost– minds scrubbed down, papers vanished– but they kept calling in reports. They considered kidnapping. They couldn’t imagine why the wizarding world might want to keep their chosen one somewhere so toxic, why they might want to keep this underfed child and his messy hair with those people.

“My mother left me a blood protection spell,” said Harry, whose scar had not ached in years. He poked at his mashed potatoes under the focused attention of Mrs. Granger’s stern little forehead wrinkle. “I had to live with family, blood family.”

“Then they should have made them treat you right,” Mrs. Granger said, as though it was that simple.

Mr. Granger gave Harry another helping of peas.)

-

On the steps of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy thrust out his hand to the Boy Who Lived, who surveyed the open palm with amusement. “Thanks,” said Harry. “But I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself.”

The redheaded, freckly, hand-me-down clothes boy Malfoy had been bothering snorted. Harry slipped his hands into his pockets.

“You’re the kid with the rat from the train,” Hermione said. “And the spell that didn’t work.”

“It was a cool rhyme anyway, though,” Harry said. “Hi, I’m Harry, this is Hermione.”

“Yeah, she said, then. I’m Ron– uh, Ron Weasley.”

“Yeah, he said,” Harry said, rolling his eyes Malfoy’s direction. “Come on, you wanna stand with us? Hermione will tell you about the ceiling.”

“It’s enchanted!” said Hermione.

-

When Hermione founded SPHEW, Harry was not surprised. He had spent too many schoolyard days escorting spiders to safe spaces, keeping vigil over fallen bird’s nests, and watching Hermione stand up on her desk chair in heated pitched verbal battles with teachers. She’d driven at least two teachers to tears and taught most of them at least a few new vocabulary words.

-

Over summers and holidays, Harry and Hermione took Ron to the movies, to the seashore, to Hermione’s top three favorite libraries. Hermione’s Aunt Meg taught them how to whittle under a cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to Harry’s hair until he washed it out.

In this life, there were things in the Muggle world that Harry missed, that he wanted to see again. He loved Hogwarts, and he nominally went home to the Dursleys each summer, but he knew he always had a bed at the Grangers’. He knew the weird system they used to organize the books on their shelves. He’d pass Mrs. Granger the marmalade in mornings before she had to ask. He got free dental check-ups all his life, which was good because the Dursleys rarely bothered taking him into the dentist.

The whole Granger family tore apart newspapers every morning, calling article excerpts across the table and pointing each other to their favorite journalists. Before Hermione even first stepped onto Hogwarts grounds she got a subscription to the Daily Prophet. During Harry’s fourth year, Mr. and Mrs. Granger got Arthur Weasley to buy them an owl and then began an unending campaign of furious letters to the editor that never got published.

-

In a crumbling boat shed, Severus Snape died, but first he pressed a shining bundle of memory into Harry’s hands.

The fight was still going– Neville newly broad and certain; Luna whipping out quiet, barbed little curses; Ginny charging like an army in and of herself. Hermione had her arms full of basilisk fangs. Ron was moving people like bishops and knights. But Harry had a long damp walk before him, so he had time to wade through that life not his own.

Severus had been a lot of things– one of them was in love. Harry dragged his feet through forest mulch, seeing a little redheaded girl in sunlight, hands not his own offering her transformed flowers. It had been just them for so long. For Severus, for so long, there had been no one but him and Lily.

Even in Hogwarts, Severus had drifted through the classrooms and common room and library. He had believed in magic, in the cool slide of good knives through dried roots, and in Lily– always, always in Lily– Lily in sunlight, Lily chewing on her thumbnail over Transfiguration homework, Lily flicking soapsuds at him in her kitchen at home over summer, Lily pig-tailed and seven, wide-eyed as he showed her the first magic she’d ever seen, a leaf to a flower, a bit of sunlight to a bit of fire.

He had loved, and it had been a real thing. He had fucked up, and it had been a real thing, that heartbreak, that regret.

When Harry turned the Stone in his hand and saw his mother step into pseudo-life in that forest clearing, he thought I wish I’d known you. He thought about how she was in sepia and gray, here, just like in the pictures in the pages of Hermione’s books.

But he was also thinking about Severus. He was remembering Lily in sunlight, remembering her walking away, remembering her in that same cold photographed sprawl but in color–in grief–in bruised knees and heaving gasps.

Severus had been the first to find Lily’s body and it had felt like someone had cut the sunlight out of him. Harry was living through that grief, but he was also living through the wail of the child crying unacknowledged. His tiny pudgy hands were wrapped around the guardrail of his crib.

Harry was thinking about a girl standing in a field like a statue, hands on hips. He was thinking about Hermione’s raised hand ignored in Potions, or the way Snape had sneered that he didn’t see a difference in her cursed teeth. Love had made him brave, perhaps. It had killed him, but it had not made Severus good.

Harry wondered if his mother would have escorted spiders to safe places, if she would have stood guard over fallen bird’s nests, if she had worried herself to pieces that first time on the Hogwarts Express about the Hat telling her she didn’t really belong.

“I wish I’d known you,” he told the specter of Lily Potter. He held his own hands tight.

For Harry, for so long, there had been no one but him and Hermione. Even in Hogwarts, there were things only she would understand– parking meters, the cobweb ceiling of his cupboard, the silence of marmalade at breakfast. Harry believed in magic and he believed Hermione Granger was the most magical thing he knew.

“They’ll be alright,” he said. “I’ll be alright. I was alright, mum. I wish I’d known you– but I wasn’t alone.” He squeezed his hands tighter– Hermione showing him her favorite spots in her favorite libraries; Ron shyly showing them the Burrow like it was anything less than a magnificent masterpiece of warm rooms and patchwork architecture; Hermione standing in the field like a statue, bushy-haired and seven years old, jaw set. “She wasn’t alone, either,” he said. “And she’ll be alright. Ron will be alright. I have to do this, don’t I?”

“We are so proud of you,” Lily said.

“Thanks,” said Harry. “Sorry,” said Harry, and wondered if Hermione was going to be able to read the little passages and excerpts with his name in them, with those un-moving pictures and the sober captions underneath.

He dropped the Stone.

-

When Harry Potter died for the first time, crumpled in forest mulch, he didn’t go to a squeaky clean King’s Cross Station. There were no crescent moon glasses to twinkle kindly at him.

He stood under an old olive tree and a little girl looked up at him with those eyes that needed shielding, needed blunting, needed a manufacturer’s warning. “A wind’s coming,” she said. “You can just go. It will be easy.”

He stood outside Diagon Alley, a Muggle payphone tucked between his shoulder and ear. “You’re in books,” she said, with a breathlessness he’d barely heard for years. There had been too much weight on his shoulders, on hers. “You’re done,” she said. “You’ve done enough. Go on, tap three bricks up and two to the left.”

He stood in Godric’s Hollow, in the snow, holding her hand, looking at the ruined house. “You should have had this,” she said. She was seven and small, not nineteen and weary like she had been in life. The sky was overcast but there was sunlight glinting in her hair. “You can still have this. You can have everything.”

“You’re not real,” Harry said.

“But you are,” she said. “There’s a wind coming. It will be easy.”

“You’ve never done anything easy in your life,” he said.

She took both his hands– hers were so small against his grown fingers, his broad palms, and how had they done everything with hands that small? Basilisks and werewolves; shouting down teachers from atop desk chairs.

Harry was sitting in his cupboard in the light of its single bulb and he was too big for this space, his shoulders curling forward, his head bowing. She was standing there with sunlight still in her hair and her arms piled high with books. “You don’t belong here,” she said. “It will hurt. You won’t fit, if you go back. Everything can be easy. Everything can be fine. It doesn’t have to hurt, ever again.”

“Hermione,” he said and leaned forward, put his hands on her hands where they were gripping her books. “It’ll be alright.” He smiled and she was staring at him with those eyes, those goddamn eyes. “We never fit, remember?”

“We tried,” she said and Harry squeezed her small hands gently.

“Send me back,” he said. “I want to go home.”

-

After the battle, as Hogwarts rang with frantic healing, crushing grief, and raging celebration, the three of them retreated to the library. Hermione hauled them down narrow aisles until she found her favorite tucked-away nook and they all collapsed on sagging sofas that seemed to not have been touched at all by the war.

“Well,” said Hermione. “What now?”

Ron let his head flop back against the seat, hair tumbling all over his pale forehead. “I’m going to nap,” he said. “For a month.”

“That’s not physiologically possible,” said Hermione. “Or if it is, then it’d be a coma.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Ron said, then: “no, wait, a hyperbole.” Hermione beamed at him. He blushed a little and elbowed her gently.

“After this, you’ll be in books, you know,” Harry told her.

“Not– I mean–” Hermione rubbed at her nose furiously. Ron laughed enough to wake up and sit up, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

While Ron came up with outlandish titles for Hermione’s eventual many biographies, Harry pulled his feet up onto the sofa. He watched the candles float quietly between the shelves.

Captain Steve Rogers, Lovecraftian Horror

Title: The Miskatonic Project
Rating: PG-13 for horror themes, death
Summary: Abraham Erskine may have invented something new with the Serum – or maybe he re-created something very old. Something…Elder.
Notes: I should be working on like three other fanfics but I had a TERRIBLE DREAM this afternoon and anyway this only took about half an hour to write.

***

Steve came out of the Vita-Ray machine…different. 

Of course he looked different – taller, thickly muscled, skin gleaming. But it wasn’t the change in his appearance so much as the…sensation people felt around him. Howard claimed not to feel it, and Erskine died before he could weigh in. Peggy felt it, but not in the way others did. To her, he seemed otherworldly, but like an angel or a religious vision – comforting under a layer of unreality. She even liked the strange black pupils he’d developed, so big and dark you could hardly see the whites of his eyes at all. 

Others, however…. 

She didn’t see him pull the Hydra agent out of the submarine after Erskine’s assassination. Only three people did – a cab driver, a little boy, and the boy’s mother. The cab driver wouldn’t say a word, and the boy’s mother stuttered and stammered so badly they finally gave up. The little boy just said, “Well, he got him,” and looked admiringly at Steve. 

Steve wasn’t wet, but the submarine lay on the deck of the pier, and the man next to it was dead, a rictus of horror on his face. 

(There is a readmore below! Read more!)

Keep reading

moana: what happens after

so moana becomes a wayfinder, teaches the lost ways to her people, and becomes chief. she and maui never speak again, because there are rules

they don’t speak for the same reason that the ocean couldn’t just give maui back his hook, for the same reason it couldn’t return the heart itself, for the same reason the ocean couldn’t just simply deliver moana to it’s destination. there is a balance, a give and take, and they must make a decision. they cant talk about this decision of course, but they must make it, so they do. moana sees a red hawk above her for most of her life, but they never speak, never touch.

the ocean never forgets her, never ignores her. it answers her call, loves her, but moana only allows it to move and play with her in the dark of night, where her people cannot see her. she is already a legend, she who fought with maui, who traveled to the land of monsters, who returned the heart of te fiti with her own two hands, who saved the world. many of her people think her adventures a myth, and thats how she wants it - she never speaks of it. she won’t allow them to know how the ocean loves her, for they must follow her because she is their cheif, their master wayfinder, because she can lead them to new lands and new places. she must be followed for what she will do, not what she did.

she travels across the seas, from one end to the other. she starts three more villages, brings her people to new islands flush with greenery and hope and the promise of a future. she learns the earth as well as she knows the sea, because she needs to learn which of these islands can sustain her people, their farming, their building. and she marries. she chooses a man who has broad shoulders and smiles a lot, one who loves the sea. she has three children, and leaves him to raise all of them as she sails to find a new island. she never stops searching the ocean, the wind in her hair, the water below her.

her husband never asks for her heart, and she never gives it. she’s loyal to him, and she brings her people into a new age of discovery and trade. when her eldest son is fully grown, when her hair streaks silver, she steps down and names him chief, allows him to lead their people and does her best not to let her shadow overpower him.

time passes. her husband dies, and she mourns him. her children marry, have children of their own, and each of them love the sea with a ferocity that is born of her blood.

all but one - her eldest child’s eldest child, the girl set to be the next chief, pania

Keep reading

 KAI PARKER X READER (SMUT!!!)

HUNGRY

Desc: Reader is a newly turned vampire struggling to control their hunger and heightened feelings for Kai.

Blood sharing & smut included

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I’m so hungry,” you growled softly, a network of veins crawling to life beneath your eyes. Your whole body ached with a hunger only blood could satisfy, your fangs piercing lightly into your dry tongue. 

You stood in the forest, surrounded by bright green trees, your boots sinking into the rich soil beneath your feet. It smelt of pines and fresh air, but all your mind could do was spin with the urge to feed. Rays of feeble sunlight trickled from the dark clouds that hung low in the grey sky. You tried to be good because you didn’t want to hurt anyone, but you were a newly turned vampire, and animal blood only soothed your cravings slightly. You’d promised everyone you had everything under control, and they’d all bought it. Everyone except-

You heard the whoosh of somebody appearing behind you, and turned to face a cocky looking Kai.

“You can always try the human diet,” he offered. “Running away from me won’t make you any less hungry.”

His lips twitched slightly, forming his familiar & smug smirk. His blue eyes glimmered, his defined cheeks rosy, brown locks smoothed perfectly atop his head. He was stunning, yes, but…

“Kai, you hurt people, and I can’t do that,” you replied firmly. 

“Oh don’t play so innocent,” Kai teased. “I know you’re not the perfect girl you pretend to be.”

You felt your heart miss a beat momentarily, and you swallowed the lump in your throat with a little shake of your head.

“Leave me alone, Malachai.”

“But you’re so much fun, princess,” he smiled, licking over his pink lips.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, waiting for Kai to leave.

“Look, I know why you might not trust me,” he started softly, with genuine concern.

Your eyes fluttered closed, while you tried to block out the sound of his voice.

“But I promise you I can help you through this. I won’t tell anyone that you’d been lying to them, (Y/N). Just, please…let me be the good guy for once.”

You took in a deep breath, the veins under your eyes fading momentarily. 

“You don’t get to be the good guy, Kai. Because you’re not a good guy,” you hissed under your breath, refusing to look at him.

In a second, you were thrown backwards, your back thudding roughly against the sharp bark of the tree behind you. You yelped out, Kai pinning you firmly in place, his aroma overwhelming you, his eyes dark with anger.

“You know what, you’re right,” he breathed over, his voice low. “I’m not good, but neither are you. And don’t give me any of your bullshit, because I know the girl you are, the one you’re scared to show to anyone else. You’re a vampire now, and vampires kill. And as much as you might deny it, I know your pretty little mouth wants to be engulfed with the flavor of warm blood, and with your emotions heightened, you must be dying to try all the dirty little things you’ve never tried before,” he purred huskily.

Your chest rose heavily, eyes flickering over Kai’s annoyingly perfect features. It was impossible to think straight with his chest pressed so hard into you.

“You’re wrong,” you lied.

“Awh, really?” Kai murmured, his blue eyes drinking you up. “So if I did this,” he said, trailing his slender fingers between your thighs, “you’d feel nothing?” 

It was insane how much electricity you could feel through just the whisper of his fingertips, and how you noticed each individual goosebump arising under his touch.

“N-no,” you stammered, with little result.

“And this?” Kai hummed, his hands firm on your waist as he brought his lips gently to your neck. His mouth grazed over your skin, tongue gently swiping over your exposed flesh. Something inside of you stirred, and you involuntarily released a quiet moan.

Kai stopped, squeezing your hips lightly, his lips coming to your earlobe.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered.

He released you at once, his blue eyes alight with lust. Without a word, he moved to leave you, his point proven. You vamp sped up to Kai, grabbing his wrists from behind, and slamming his body straight into an oak tree before he could react. His back hit the tree trunk hard, but he wasn’t phased at all, the look in his eyes knowing. Your hands trembled slightly, strands of your tangled hair toppling across your eyes. You stared at the malicious bad boy, feeling stupid for the way he made you crumble so easily. You bent forward, touching your forehead to his, eyes locking with his blazing blue ones. You breathed in Kai’s overpowering scent, dark veins crawling across your face as you inhaled. Your heart thrummed loudly, the only thing you could focus on being Kai’s fresh warm blood.

“Do it, (Y/N),” he dared, as if reading your thoughts. Kai raised a wrist to your parched lips, and your fangs sprung back out at once. “You know you want to.”

Without a second thought, you seized Kai’s wrist, bringing it straight up to your hungry mouth. Your fangs sunk deep into his flesh, and the taste of him instantly flooded through your lips. Both your hands came up to pin his arm harder into you, and you groaned in pleasure, your hands trembling from the need for more.

Kai brought his right hand up, and pushed your head gently into the crook of his neck, where he held you lightly. You could feel his cool rings against you as he brushed his fingers through your locks softly, cooing, “that’s right, sweetheart, keep going.”  

You nuzzled into him, the taste of his blood like a drug, the hunger inside you somehow only growing, not yet satisfied. Kai’s mouth hung open, and he let out a soft moan, the sight of your fragile form in his arms too much for him. His eyes grew dark with hunger, veins crackling beneath them. You whimpered against Kai’s wrist before releasing him, your eyes black, his blood leaving a red mess all over your mouth. Kai looked over you with adoration, a lopsided smile on his lips.

“Are you hungry?” you asked him when you saw his eyes.

“Not for blood,” he grinned, his tongue flicking over his fangs.

Kai seized you by the waist and flipped you onto the leaf strewn forest floor, so you grabbed his ankles, throwing him down beside you with a laugh. You whooshed onto his chest, straddling his body and bending over his lips to kiss him before he could react. He responded at once, hands flying up to grab your ass, tongue sliding into your mouth and fighting for dominance with yours. Kai sucked the excess blood from your mouth, a growl emanating from his throat as his lips worked with more force. His faint stubble brushed over your skin, and he squeezed your backside roughly as his lips molded perfectly against your own. You could feel Kai’s large bulge growing beneath you, and your hands instantly reached for his belt buckle. You tossed Kai’s pants off, and then literally ripped his shirt from his chest, your mouth peeling from his to dive into his rippled front. You trailed your tongue down across Kai’s chest before leaving sloppy kisses all over him, brushing your fingertips teasingly across his boxer line. Aggravated by your control over him, Kai flipped you onto your back, peeling off your own clothes, his breath heavy as he delved into your breasts. His name toppled softly off your lips, your head rolling back as he squeezed, sucked, and bit at your flesh. His lips attached around your nipple, and your hands went sliding into his hair as you held him there. The knot in your stomach grew tighter, the wetness between your legs increasing with every second. Every little thing he did to you was filled with so much more intensity as a vampire, and it felt good. Kai removed his mouth, leaving little kisses all down your belly and to your underwear. He hooked his teeth around the lace, removing the fabric easily before taking off his own boxers. Your eyes drifted down to his length, your eyes widening, the lump in your throat growing. Kai caught you staring, and did another one of his smug smirk’s. 

“Ohhh,” Kai sighed, two of his fingers rubbing circles gently against your clit. “I’ve wanted to fuck you senseless from the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

You trembled slightly, eyes flickering over Kai’s sculpted features, “so do it.” 

Kai’s eyes flickered back to your face, and he chuckled with delight. “And I bet you’ve wanted that too,” he purred.

“Please Kai,” you begged with impatience. “Just-”

“Just what, babygirl?”

“Just fuck me,” you pleaded, mouth watering at the sight of him.

Kai smirked, looking pleased, “I’ve broken you, haven’t I? Why haven’t you shown me this side of you before?” he asked seriously.

You closed your eyes, “I-Kai…”

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“I’ve been dead for three weeks now, and your somehow the only one who made me feel alive. I didn’t want to let those darkest parts of me feel for you, but I just…can’t,” your voice cracked at the end. “I need you so much, Malachai Parker.”

He looked you over, his eyes softening with adoration. And then, slowly, he gave you what you wanted. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he entered you, his length stretching you wide open. Kai’s hands moved to your hips as he began to mercilessly slam his hips into you over and over again. You cried out in pleasure, a layer of sweat gathering on your forehead. 

“You’re-so-” Kai panted, “tight for me.”

Just the sight of him and sound of his voice was enough for you to want to go over the edge. Kai dragged out the next thrust, pushing into you at an excruciatingly slow pace, his mouth hanging open as he groaned your name.

“More,” you begged.

Kai moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing vigorously as he began to quicken his pace again, finding your spot in no time. Your hands flew to his back, nails dragging across his flesh as you bounced harshly beneath him. Your breathing got heavier, body convulsing as your screams hit a high, your words ragged.

“FUCK,” Kai groaned, his head falling forward as he gave a sloppy final push, his come instantly emptying into you and filling you up to the brim. Your juices mixed with his, your body still shaking. Kai moaned and pulled out, diving into you at once to clean up the mess. His tongue gave little kitten licks to your heat, his head burrowed between your open legs. Kai dipped his tongue gently once into your folds before releasing you, his chest heaving. He flipped over onto his back, his arms sliding under your body and pulling you close into his chest. You curled up against him, arm dipping under his protective hold as you listened to the strum of his heartbeat. Kai mindlessly started playing with your hair again, his eyes always on you.

“You probably think I’m weak for giving into you so easily,” you said after a long silence.

Kai’s eyes crinkled sadly at this. “No, (Y/N), you’re strong, and that’s why I admire you. You spent so long avoiding me because if we ever got even a little close, it would mean that somewhere inside of you, a part of you felt something for a monster like me.”

“What does it mean that my weakness is you?” you asked softly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “What does it mean that a ‘psychopath’s’ weakness is you?”

anonymous asked:

How do you write a fight scene without becoming repetitive? I feel like it just sounds like "she did this then this then this." Thanks so much!

I watch her as she fights. Her left leg flies through the air – a roundhouse – rolling into a spin. She misses, but I guess she’s supposed to. Her foot lands and launches her into a jump. Up she goes again, just as fast. The other leg pumps, high knee gaining altitude. The jumping leg tucks. Her body rolls midair, momentum carrying her sideways. She kicks. A tornado kick, they call it. The top of her foot slams into Rodrigo’s head, burying in his temple. Didn’t move back far enough, I guess.

His head, it snaps sideways like a ball knocked off a tee. Skull off the spine. His eyes roll back, and he slumps. Whole body limp. Legs just give out beneath him. He clatters to the sidewalk; wrist rolling off the curb.

She lands, making the full turn and spins back around. Her eyes are on his body. One foot on his chest. I don’t know if he’s alive. I don’t know if she cares. Nah, she’s looking over her shoulder. Looking at me.

The truth twists my gut. I should’ve started running a long time ago.

The first key to writing a good fight scene is to tell a story. The second key is having a grasp of combat rules and technique. The third is to describe what happens when someone gets hit. The fourth is to remember physics. Then, roll it all together. And remember: be entertaining.

If you find yourself in the “and then” trap, it’s because you don’t have a firm grasp of what exactly it is your writing. “He punched” then “She blocked” then “a kick” only gets you so far.

You’ve got to get a sense for shape and feeling, and a sense of motion. Take a page from the comic artist’s playbook and make a static image feel like it’s moving. Try to remember that violence is active. Unless your character is working with a very specific sort of soft style, they’re attacks are going to come with force. So, you’ve got to make your sentences feel like your hitting something or someone.

“Ahhh!” Mary yelled, and slammed her fist into the pine’s trunk. A sickening crack followed, then a whimper not long after.

Angie winced. “Feel better?”

Shaking out her hand, Mary bit her lip. Blood dripped from her knuckles, uninjured fingers gripping her wrist. She sniffed, loudly. “I…” she paused, “…no.”

“You break your hand?”

“I think so. Yeah.”

“Good,” Angie said. “Think twice next time before challenging a tree.”

Let your characters own their mistakes. If they hit something stupid in anger, like a wall or a tree then let them have consequences. Injury is part of combat. In the same way, “I should be running now” is. When the small consequences of physical activity invade the page, they bring reality with them.

People don’t just slug back and forth unless they don’t know how to fight, or their only exposure to combat is mostly movies or bloodsport like boxing. Either way, when one character hits another there are consequences. It doesn’t matter if they blocked it or even deflected it, some part of the force is going to be transitioned into them and some rebounds back at the person who attacked.

Your character is going to get hurt, and it’ll be painful. Whether that’s just a couple of bruises, a broken bone, or their life depends on how the fight goes.

However, this is fantasy. It is all happening inside our heads. Our characters are never in danger unless we say they are. They’ll never be hurt unless we allow it. A thousand ghost punches can be thrown and mean absolutely, utterly nothing at all to the state of the character. This is why it is all important to internalize the risks involved.

The writer is in charge of bringing a dose of reality into their fictional world. It is much easier to sell an idea which on some level mimics human behavior and human reactions. The ghost feels physical because we’ve seen it happen on television or relate to it happening to us when we get injured.

You’ve got five senses, use them. You know what it feels like to get injured. To be bruised. To fall down. To be out of breath. Use that.

Here’s something to take with you: when we fight, every technique brings us closer together. Unless it specifically knocks someone back. You need specific distances to be able to use certain techniques. There’s the kicking zone, the punching zone, and the grappling zone. It’s the order of operation, the inevitable fight progression. Eventually, two combatants will transition through all three zones and end up on the ground.

So, keep the zones in mind. If you go, “she punched, and then threw a roundhouse kick” that’s wrong unless you explain more. Why? Because if the character is close enough to throw a punch, then they’re too close to throw most kicks. The roundhouse will just slap a knee or a thigh against the other character’s ribs, and probably get caught. If you go, “she punched, rammed an uppercut into his stomach, and seized him by the back of the head”, then that’s right. You feel the fighters getting progressively closer together, which is how its supposed to work.

Use action verbs, and change them up. Rolled, rotated, spun, punched, kicked, slammed, rammed, jammed, whipped, cracked, etc.

You’ve got to sell it. You need to remember a human’s bodily limits, and place artificial ones. You need to keep track of injuries, every injury comes with a cost. Make sure they aren’t just trading blows forever.

I’ve seen advice that says fights all by themselves aren’t interesting. I challenge that assertion. If you’re good at writing action, then the sequence itself is compelling. You know when you are because it feels real. Your reader will tune out if it isn’t connecting, and the fight scene is a make or break for selling your fantasy. It is difficult to write or create engaging, well choreographed violence that a reader can easily follow and imagine happening.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.

Qoaad excerpt

from here

Emma and Julian have been walking for some hours when Emma realized they were being followed. It had actually been a pretty pleasant walk, along a tramped path in the woods. Julian was easy enough to talk to when she tried not to think about how he felt about her or how he felt. They avoided the topics of Livvy and the parabatai curse and talked instead about the Clave and what it’s next plan might be and how Zara might figure into them. Julian walked ahead holding a map. consulting it when enough light rayed down from the trees to make it readable.

“We could reach the Unseelie Court by tomorrow,” he said, pausing in the middle of the clearing. “Depending how much we’re willing to travel at night.”

Emma stopped in her tracks.”We’re being followed.” she said.

Julian stopped as well and turned to her, holding the map. “You’re sure?”

His voice was quiet. Emma strained an ear, a tiny breakage of branches behind them, the thump of a footfall. She nodded, “I’m sure.”

There was no doubt in Julian’s eyes, Emma felt a faint gratification that even in his current state Julian trusted her skills implicitly.

“We can’t run.” he said. He was right, the trail was too rocky.

“Come on,” Emma grabbed Julian’s hand and a moment later they were skinning up the tallest of the oak trees in the clearing. Emma found the fork of a branch and sold into it, Julian swung up across from her. They clung to the tree trunk and looked down.

Footfalls were getting closer. Hoofbeats, Emma realized and then a kelpie, dark green with a mane of shimmering seaweed rose into the clearing, a rider on it’s back. 

Emma sucked in her breath, the rider was a man wearing shadowhunter gear. She leaned down to see more. Not a man, a boy. Thin and narrow faced with shots of black hair. 

“Dane Larkspear on a kelpie,” Julian muttered. “What is this? If I see Zara come riding on the Loch Ness Monster we’re going home.”

The kelpie had stopped dead in the middle of the clearing, it was rolling it’s eyes, deep black with no whites. Closer up it looked less like a horse even thought it had a mane and tail and four legs more like a frightening creature thing. Something that never meant to be out of water.

“Hurry up,” Dane jerked on the kelpie’s bridle and and a memory flickered in the back of Emma’s mind, something about bridling a kelpie forced it to obey you. “We need to find Emma and Julian before nightfall.” 

The kelpie spoke, Emma jolted. “I do not know those creatures, master. I do not know what they look like.”

“It doesn’t matter, pick up their trail.” Dean smacked the kelpie across the shoulder. “Okay I’ll describe them for you, Julian’s the kind of guy who would have a girl as a parabatai, get it?”

“No.” Said the kelpie. 

“He spends all his time chasing little kids around, he had like a million children. It’s really creepy.”

“In my culture it is men who bear children.” Said the kelpie. 

“That’s disgusting,” said Dane. “Now pay attention. Emma, she’s the kind of girl that’d be hot if she ever shut up.”

“I will kill him,” Emma said. “I will kill him while talking the whole time.”

“I don’t really understand human attitudes towards beauty,” said the kelpie. “I like seaweed on a woman.”

“Shut up,” Dane jerked the bridle and the kelpie exposed it’s needle-like teeth in a hiss. “We need to find them before the sun goes down.” His smile was ugly. “Once I get back with the black book Zara will give me anything I want. Maybe one of Julian Blackthorn’s sisters.” 

Emma was out of the tree so fast, the world was a blur of green leaves and red rage. She landed on Dane Larkspear and knocked him out of his saddle forcing an ‘oof’ of pain out of him when they hit the ground together. She punched him in the stomach and he doubled up while she sprang to her feet, she grabbed her sword. She would have been worried if Julian wouldn’t have followed her but he was already on the ground, yanking off the kelpie’s bridle. 

“My lord,” the kelpie bowed it’s forelegs to Julian. Dane was coughing and gagging, rolling on the ground in pain. “Thank you for freeing me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Julian said. 

The kelpie straightened. “May you find fortune and good luck in many children.

“Thanks.” Julian tossed the bridle aside and the kelpie dashed into the forest.

Emma stood over Dane with her sword pointed at his throat, laying flat on the ground he glared at her. “What are you doing Larkspear, we were sent to get the black book, not you.”

“Sure, you were sent to get it,” he turned his dead and spat blood. “And then I was supposed to get it from you. That’s what I was sent to do.”

“And we weren’t supposed to notice you following us? You sounded like an elephant, a sexist elephant. You’re a terrible Shadowhunter.“ Said Emma.

"No one asked you.”

“Be quiet. And did the Inquisitor seriously tell you that if you got the book from us you could have Dru? She’s thirteen!”

 Dane just stared at her. “What?” Emma’s voice dripped sarcasm, “Am I talking too much?”

Emma suddenly realized Dane wasn’t staring at her but behind her, Julian had come up quietly and was standing with his longsword in his hand looking at Dane with a frightening coldness.

“You know,” he said. “That if you ever touch Dru, I’ll kill you.”

Dane pushed himself up on his elbows. “You’ll be dead by then.”

Hiraeth | Pt.14 (Finale)

(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places, people, and things of your past.

↠ pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | pt.5 | pt.6 | pt.7 | pt.8 | pt.9 | pt.10 | pt.11 | pt.12 | pt.13 | pt.14 

Words: 5,000.

Genre: Zombie apocalypse au, angst.

Summary: A world full of dwindling hope and lost loves and yet you and Jungkook are all the other needs to feel at home.

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language, violent themes, and intense subject matter).

Keep reading

Crawling Chaos - Part One - Void Stiles

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Void Stiles/Reader

Word Count: 3,496

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (Female receiving), Fingering, Riddles

Notes: My first Void smut? My first Void smut. Not sure how well this will really go tbh because I don’t think I’m good at portraying Void. But let me know for sure if you do like it. This idea has been in my mind for a few weeks now, and all because I was listening to one certain anime opening at work called Koi wa Chaos no Shimobenari. It kind of gave me the idea for what to do with this, even though it has NOTHING to do with the song. Also, side note, i did use Google Translate for one small thing in here. Don’t blame me if it is wrong.

Part 2  Part 3

Keep reading

black magic [m]

credit: x.

❛❛im one of the brightest witches at this prestigious magic academy and ur a human who somehow got admitted and everyone knows u dont ACTUALLY have magic but cant prove it so they hate u for it but i actually like you??? and have a crush on u??????? our paths have just never crossed until ur class blew up n somehow we became class partners and– hold on what do you mean we fucked up this spell so we wanna fuck each other’s brains out??❜❜ AU

COUNT → 18.430

GENRE → smut 

PAIRING → taehyung | reader

WARNINGS → dom and sub tones | mild cum play | explicit language | female masturbation (male if you squint) | oral sex | penetration | graphic dirty talk

NOTE → this was requested and inspired by @blueagust!!!!!! the idea went thru several stages and yelling over kkt but this is the final product :-D im sorry mom


You hated everyone at this fucking academy.

It wasn’t just that they always smelled like unicorn turds—and that wasn’t a compliment because unicorns had the nastiest smelling shit in the entire universe—but they were so arrogant and had this fucking superiority complex when it came to humans. You were sure if they actually lived with them and in human society instead of hidden away at some prestigious academy they wouldn’t pull this bullshit in the first place, but they still despised them.

Or maybe it was just one human they despised in particular.

Keep reading

Title: At Last
Summary: The day Sakura found out she was pregnant was quite one to remember indeed.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto.
Prompt: That Day
Rating: M
A/N: While I don’t believe they planned to have a baby on the road, this is still a fun and cute scenario to think about. I had lots of fun writing this :)


It wasn’t exactly how she’d ever pictured she would find out: sitting in the middle of a forest, tending to a campfire, watching the love of her life training aggressively against the trunk of an old tree, the warmest smile to her lips—and then, a faint thrumming sensation, odd and completely unfamiliar, sparking low in her belly.

Bemused, Sakura looked down on herself and blinked, touching a palm to her abdomen. An infection, perhaps? she mused, brows furrowing. Shaking her head, the thought was dismissed near-instantly; no, that wasn’t possible—in all her years of experience, she knew with certainty that infections had never been capable of throwing chakra paths off route so much.

Growing evermore perplexed, Sakura simply summoned forth the most basic of her medical techniques, setting about a curious exploration to her body. It was only seconds before she found herself stiffening rigidly, brilliant mind blanking and green eyes snapping wide, rendered entirely speechless by her discovery.

It wasn’t an infection—she’d been right about that. And it wasn’t an instability in her chakra channels either—in fact, there was absolutely nothing wrong with her.

No, she was simply… pregnant.

Her heart stuttered in her chest. A flurry of warmth washed over the whole of her. Pregnant, she thought again, feeling the sweet pulse of this new chakra.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

can I request todoroki and bakugous reaction when their s/o brings home a stray puppy they found on the streets and wanting to keep the puppy??

These idea is precious. I love this so much. All I can think of is you bringing home a puppy that looks just like the boy. [Admin Denki]

Todoroki Shouto

“What are you doing?” Todoroki asked, looking up from his book as you tip-toed into your apartment.

“Uhh.  .  . nothing.” You murmured, keeping your back turned to Todoroki as you hunched over.

“Are you alright?” Todoroki rose a brow, not familiar with seeing you like that before.

“Oh, I’m completely-”

“Arff!” Both you and Todoroki froze as the sound of panting filled the room.

“You’re hiding a dog in your jacket, aren’t you?” Todoroki set his book down, uncrossing his legs.

“Maybe.  .  .” You muttered, sitting in the entranceway. A small, fluffy puppy jumped out of your arms, circling the room.

“Why? Why would you bring a stray dog home? And a puppy? They’re a lot of responsibility.” Todoroki lectured you like a mother.

“I know that.” You grumbled. “It’s just.  .  . she reminded me of you.” You said, letting the black puppy crawl into your lap.

“How? I don’t have black hair.” Todoroki said in confusion. You picked the puppy up, sitting on the couch next to Todoroki and placing the puppy on his lap. The puppy put his paws on Todoroki’s chest, licking his cheeks. The puppy had one brown eye and one blue eye.

“Oh.” Todoroki mumbled, petting the puppy’s head. She wagged her tail, turning around in a circle before hopping off and running around the living room again.

“What do you think? Can we keep her?” You asked.

“We’ll go to the vet tomorrow. If she’s not chipped.  .  . I guess we can shelter her.” Todoroki decided, surprised when you wrapped your arms around him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You squealed.

Bakugou Katsuki

“Get rid of it.” Bakugou glared at the dog and the dog glared back.

“Stop being a buzz kill. Look how cute he is.” You picked up the dense puppy. He was built like a baby tree trunk, having a stocky body and legs.

“He’s fucking ugly. I don’t want a dog. It’ll shit everywhere.” Bakugou scrunched up his nose. The honest reason was that he did not want competition for your attention. A clingy dog meant less sex or less time together. He glared at the dog, who barked back.

“I don’t get it. You two are so much like each other. Jealous, angry, humping my leg.” You smirked at the last part.

“He fucking humps your leg?!” Bakugou yelled.

“C’mon, he’s a dog. As soon as we get him.  .  . fixed.” You whispered the last word.

“I don’t want the puppy. Just bring him to the pound or something.” Bakugou shrugged.

“You monster!” You shouted, dramatically. “We’re keeping him.” You crossed your arms, marching off. “Now, I’m going to the pet store to get food, so behave! He better be here when I come back!” You shouted, slamming the front door. Bakugou and the dog bared their teeth.

“Asshole. He’s just a puppy. I don’t get why he’s being such a.  .  . a.  .  . a Bakugou.” You grumbled, carrying a big bag of dog food in your arms. You walked back into the apartment, but stopped in the doorway. Bakugou was curled up on the couch, the puppy sleeping underneath Bakugou’s arm. The dog snored, curling into Bakugou’s body.

“If you say a word,” Bakugou murmured, eyes closed. “-I will murder you.  .  . figuratively.” He corrected yourself. You put your hand over your mouth, having to keep yourself from squealing.

Hello Autumn | Tom Holland

Summary: Tom Holland and the reader spend the fall together, doing fun fall activities and spending time with family. All the while, Tom’s family pesters him about his unplanned future with the reader…

Warning: fluffiness

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Type: Oneshot

Requested: anonymously 

A/N: Just to let you all know, I combined two requests together for this oneshot. One request was for the reader and Tom to do fun fall activities together and the other was about the entire family pestering Tom about his future with the reader. I combined them because I thought it would make a better story arch. Anyways…enjoy!

MASTERLIST


Keep reading

friendship goals // stiles stilinski

Summary: Having only ever been acquaintances, Stiles & Y/N find out what benefits come along with being friends

Requested: no, collab with @sincerelystiles

Pairing: Stiles & Y/N

Warning: yes, mature language & smut throughout

Masterlist

“Why does Scott insist that playing hide and seek in the middle of the pitch black woods is going to bring us closer together as a pack?” Y/N sighed, annoyed as she pulled her thin jacket closer around her shoulders.

“Quite complaining.” Stiles shushed her, bringing a finger to his lips. “You’re only upset because you’re stuck with me.” He smirked.

They had never been anything more than acquaintances. She was friends with Lydia, automatically making her friends with Scott and in turn, Stiles.

“It could’ve been worse.” He offered his hand to her, helping her over the large tree trunk that had fallen over blocking their path. “You could have been stuck with Liam.” She smiled as she reached for his hands. 

Keep reading

Apples and Heroes

Originally posted by kissthejotun

Request: Can you please do a Star Trek story with Bones and the words “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”, “your pulse is weak,” and “all the apples in the world wouldn’t stop me.” They aren’t in your prompts list I hope that’s okay? Thank you!

Keep reading

Second Chances (James Conrad)

Pairing: James Conrad x OC

Warning: Little, tiny bit of violence. And giant bugs. Lol.

Originally posted by enchantedbyhiddles


I couldn’t relax. Couldn’t close my eyes without seeing it all over again. 

Choppers being tossed from the sky, like tiny toys. Flames licking away at molten metal. Bodies falling from midair. And those eyes. Those huge, yellow eyes. I squeezed my own eyes shut, desperate to make those horrible mental images vanish. Though the second I tried to think of something else, anything else, my mind wandered back to him.

To James Conrad.

Keep reading

Draco Malfoy had perfected the art of going unnoticed. And he hated it.
But it was unfortunately a necessary evil that would hopefully be short lived. He supposed he couldn’t blame the other students for the hostility, but he hadn’t had a choice in whether or not he returned for his 8th year. After all that had happened, he would have chosen to never see any of these people again.

He sunk down in his chair, mostly concealed by the pile of books next to him. His grades were near perfect, since he didn’t do much else with his time these days. Sighing he put away his completed transfiguration essay and buried himself in his potions textbook. He nearly fell off of his chair when someone sat down quietly next to him, close enough that their elbows touched.
He purposefully chose the table in the furthest corner of the library to go unnoticed, unbothered. Bracing himself, he peeked at the person sitting next to him and couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open. Harry Potter was sitting right next to him, focusing on his potions textbook with a look of intense concentration Draco had never seen on him before. And, surprisingly, there was a pink tinge on his cheeks that was the only reason Draco was able to relax even slightly. He didn’t seem to have malicious intent. After watching him for a few minutes, during which Potter swallowed many times, Draco decided to not do anything. Hopefully Potter would make the reason for his presence known.
Draco turned back to his textbook, and promptly forgot Potter was there at all.

He jumped an hour later when Potter stood up and collected his things. He quickly refocused his attention back on his textbook. He didn’t watch Potter leave.

He was significantly less surprised when, a few days later, Potter dropped next to him in the library again. After moving his books over to make room for Potters things, they continued to work in silence and ignore each other. Although, it was difficult for Draco to ignore it when Potters hand brushed his arm after turning a page. But he tried valiantly.
This became a mostly unremarkable routine that Draco definitely didn’t look forward to.

When Draco was sitting by the lake reading a book on a Sunday afternoon and Potter plopped down next to Draco, he was quite surprised again. He looked up, and for the first time since Potter began working next to Draco in the library, they made eye contact. Potters green eyes shone with reflected sunlight and Draco didn’t know what to say. He tilted his head in question.
Potter smiled sheepishly, dropping his eyes briefly. “I saw you out the window. It’s a nice day to be out.”
Unable to suppress it, Draco laughed. “Yeah, it is.” Potter seemed taken aback by Draco’s response, but his grin indicated he was pleased. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, staring out over the lake. Draco returned to his book.
“Draco.” Potter said quietly sometime later.
Draco blinked his way out of his book and faced Potter. He saw the sun had started to set and noticed for the first time a chill in the air.
And then he realized that Potter had called him Draco, probably for the first time ever. He felt strange. But not in a bad way. He saw Harry’s eyes widen when he saw Draco was looking at him. A blush crept over his cheeks and his sheepish smile made a reappearance. “Sorry. I meant to try that out in my head.”
And so Draco found himself blushing. He cleared his throat before replying, “That’s okay.” He paused, appreciating the weight of the moment. “Harry.”
Harry’s grin transformed into something alive. Lowering his eyes, Draco closed his book, crossed his legs and turned to face Harry.
“Why are you spending time with me?” He asked bluntly.
Harry’s blush deepened. “I don’t know how to say this without offending you.”
Draco scowled. “Now I’m offended that you think I’m so easily offended. So you might as well just tell me.” A laugh slipped out of Harry’s mouth and he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide again.
Draco smirked and Harry let out a relieved sigh.
“Well,” Harry began, picking at pieces of grass. “I noticed that you were trying really hard to blend in with your surroundings, but I didn’t like the way you were trying to make yourself smaller. It didn’t seem right.” Draco couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to think. He watched as the blush spread to Harry’s neck. “You always used to seem a bit larger than life, so I guess I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”
After an endless silence, Harry sighed before bracing himself and meeting Draco’s eyes. The trepidation fell away quickly though, but Draco wasn’t sure what replaced it.
He looked away quickly, knowing his own eyes were too full of emotions that he didn’t want to share. When he had himself back under control he looked back at Harry.
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. The small quirk of Harry’s lips encouraged him. “I’m fine though. I just want to get through this year as quickly and painlessly as possible.” He paused, he looked across the lake and added softly. “I didn’t even want to come back.”
They were both silent for a long time. Draco felt a soft touch to the back of his hand when Harry whispered, “I’m glad you did.”

It became normal for everyone to see Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy together. Whether they were sitting quietly in the library working or strolling around the grounds in animated conversation, no one looked twice anymore.
Draco noticed that Harry always moved his chair right next to Draco’s, so that sometimes they were pressed up against each other. On occasion Harry would join him on the couch in the common room and lean on Draco, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder.
In the months since they had become friends, Draco had stopped trying to hide. It was anyway impossible to do when Harry Potter was almost always with him.

Draco was even getting used to the attention Harry gave him. The small smiles, the chocolates he would slide over to Draco’s side of the table in the library without making eye contact. He looked forward to sitting by the fire at night, now that it was getting cold, sitting side by side and talking for hours.

He was so used to Harry being by his side that, when Harry didn’t show up at the library at all on a Sunday, he began to panic. It was mid afternoon and he should have seen Harry ages ago. Unable to concentrate, he gave up and went to the 8th years common room. Harry wasn’t there. But Weasley was, sitting on a couch with Granger. They had had a few friendly conversations but Draco still wasn’t completely comfortable with them. But he was worried.
“Hi, have you two seen Harry?” He asked them quietly. Granger smiled at him and Weasley gave a nod in greeting.
“He’s had a rough few nights.” Weasley told him. “Bad nightmares. I suspect he might be catching up on some sleep.”
Draco frowned. He had no idea that Harry was suffering from bad nightmares. He’d seemed a bit tired lately but Draco had thought it was due to the upcoming exams. He thanked Weasley quickly and hurried upstairs to check Harry’s room. The single bed in the room was empty. Feeling more and more guilty for not noticing anything was wrong, Draco slumped against the door frame. Harry had turned Draco’s year into something that didn’t have to be endured, but enjoyed.
He ran without knowing where he was going to resume his search for Harry.

The sun was setting by the time he found him. Harry was sitting on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, and it was the last place Draco had thought to look. Draco’s stomach dropped in relief at the sight of him. He was sitting with his back against an enormous tree trunk, head tilted back and eyes closed. Draco allowed himself a few moments to study his profile. Then he dropped next to Harry. As close to him as he possibly could be without actually sitting on top of him.
Harry yelped in surprise, jerking upright. Draco took the opportunity to slip his arms around Harry and rested his forehead against Harry’s temple. Harry’s breath caught, and Draco realized it was always Harry that initiated touch. He tensed, suddenly unsure. He was floored by his relief when Harry let out a shaky exhale and brought his arms up to clutch at Draco’s arm, leaning his weight against Draco.
They sat like that for a long time. And Draco enjoyed every second.

Once the sun had set completely and the chill had set in, Harry finally moved. He rubbed Draco’s arm then leaned back. After clumsily getting to his feet he extended a hand to help Draco up. He tried to let go after but Draco intertwined their fingers. Harry looked down at their hands then up at Draco with bright eyes.
“How did you know I needed you?” He asked as he brushed his thumb over the back of Draco’s hand.
Draco took a step forward and pressed his lips firmly against Harry’s.
“You saw me even when I didn’t want to be seen.” He kissed Harry again, loving how right it felt. “You’re stuck with me now.” Harry’s lips quirked up before Draco kissed him again. “If I can’t see you, I’m going to come looking.” He curled his other hand around Harry’s neck.
Harry’s smile was blinding before Draco kissed it right off.

New Beginnings

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Written for @sanjariti‘s Game of Prompts. Based on the song Good Times by All Time Low

Word Count:1,602

Warnings: Language, Angst, Underage Drinking 

A/N: Caro, I’m so so sorry it took me so long to write this. Congrats on your milestone! You’re awesome!

Sitting under the lights of the basketball court, you nursed a bottle of beer that you had been sharing with three other people. Sam sat on the orange ball, sweat dripping down his forehead. Steve’s cheeks were red from running, his blond hair sticking to his forehead. And while Bucky was wearing his basketball shorts, he had spent the entire evening with you.

“I gave Rogers a proper thrashing,” Sam announced proudly.

Steve rolled his eyes. “You wish.”

Normally you would have been laughing and cheering, but not tonight. It was your last night with your three best friends and you were feeling pretty nostalgic.

Keep reading

youtube

All the important things I noted down from this interview:

When they shot the “he’s coming for you” scene, they had no idea who the “he” would be. It was a last minute addition to 610 just to give us an idea of what the flash forward would “look like”. That’s why we saw it in the episode before the series finale, because for years the writers were pondering “who’s the he, who’s the he?” and there came a point where they just had to make a decision.

We can put Melissa’s suitcase handle to rest. That was a complete red herring and it’s not coming back in the finale.

Sasha and her husband, Hudson, double date with Andrea and her husband. Sasha and Andrea are really good friends. I didn’t know this!

Aria does not have multiple personalities because she was talking to the trunk of her car. “Don’t read too much into that”.

Sasha and Troian turned over the script of the finale to the back page and drew a Hastings-DiLaurentis-Drake family tree, trying to piece together everything. I thought that was cute. I love when the actors immerse themselves in the story like us fans.

Torrey is legally/contractually on another show but somehow they managed to get her back. The fact that they managed to get her out of luck tells me she won’t be important.

Jason is not in the finale.

We finally have an answer to Ali’s bloody lip in season 3. And you won’t like it. “During that episode and Ali’s life, she was really taunting the girls about these older people she was hanging out with, sort of a bad crowd. In the writers room we never said specifically who it was, but in our minds, it was that group of people. She was trying to make the PLLs jealous, she was hanging out with older people, probably Charlotte and college kids, the same group of kids who threw the poor girl down the stairs. It lives in that world.”

Emison has the most shocking twist in the finale. No comment on what the twist is. Sasha bit her lip the second this question was asked. (Is Ali faking her pregnancy? Is Ali AD?)

The character that has changed the most after the 1 year time jump in the finale is Toby.

The hardest scenes to shoot were the goodbye scene as well as the actual last scene of the show. Marlene confirmed that this so called “goodbye scene” is just a goodbye to “ONE of the characters”. Take that as you like, but I interpret it to mean only one PLL leaves Rosewood meanwhile the others stay.

The very last scene of the finale is a “bonus full circle moment. Although the show ends, the world continues.” Sasha wasn’t shocked by this finale scene but it is “amazing, it sums up our show in a way”. Marlene said: “The mythology of this town will always go on. It’s not gonna end with the end of Pretty Little Liars.” This makes me really happy honestly. Well, assuming that they’re not talking about Addison getting a text from B. I like that the world will always be open and we can think about Rosewood in a year and wonder what’s going on. I like that it’s 99% closure with 1% available for freedom of thought.

Mona pushed Charlotte off the bell tower, even though we didn’t see it. They were probably saving production costs, as they’d have to pay for a doll/fake corpse to throw off a building.

An Emison spinoff is a possibility.

Marlene’s new series “The Perfectionists” could be in the same or similar universe as PLL. Characters from PLL “could” be in the new series but it’s too early to talk about The Perfectionists. “Hopefully in the next couple weeks” Marlene can speak more on the new show.

“There’s a 1 year time jump and a lot happens in a year” was Marlene’s response to Mary injecting/stabbing Spencer in the promo.

BIG ONE: that was Spencer, NOT Twincer that Mary is stabbing!! Marlene kept a very straight face when the interviewers mentioned Spencer having a twin.

There is at least one, maybe two “very realistic” masks in the finale. (We are doomed. I hate the finale already.)

“Everyone knows I love Toby, so the chances of him being AD would be slim.” - Marlene

The final 10 episodes are loaded with clues and they were designed for us to guess it correctly. That was Marlene’s response as to what particular episodes we should watch.

THE REVEAL OF AD IS NOTHING WE WOULD HAVE NOTICED IN SEASONS 1 AND 2. CONFIRMED.

In the promo Aria says “I can’t marry Ezra” - not “burry”

How the mums got out of the basement is discussed in the finale but maybe not in the way we’d like.

Aside from who AD is, Marlene’s favourite question to answer is AD’s motive.

“The viewers will know before the girls” - Sasha

The reason the finale is 2 hours is so that we can process the who and the why.

The person who plays AD asked Marlene not to tell anyone so that other actors don’t act different in scenes with AD.

Marlene told the person who is AD, that they are AD, fairly early on, by themselves. I feel like this rules out Twincer since Troian said that Marlene told her and Keegan together one night on set :(

The hope is that it’ll leave some sort of legacy and that in a few years you’ll look back and remember where you were when you found out who AD is.