this song had too many words

Another Man’s Treasure

A/N: This is a completed five-part mini-series because @alrightpetal and I have this thing about making Harry super vulnerable and flawed. So here you go.

// Another Man’s Treasure // Mind on a Mission // Take the Lead // Worth the Pain // Wings of Butterflies

…I’m gonna show you tonight! I’m alright! I’m just fine! And you’re a tool so, so what?

You belted your heart out up on stage, pumping your fist in the air to empower your words even further. It was a good thing you knew all the words, too, because your mates had bought you so many drinks your vision was crossed and blurred you couldn’t have read the lyrics to an unfamiliar song. Then you would have just been a blubbering fool butchering a karaoke performance. And that would have been embarrassing.

Singing yourself blue in the face—and drinking yourself into oblivion—served as the perfect outlet for your aching heart. Hours earlier, you’d been dumped. Or more accurately, replaced.

It’d been a week since you’d heard from your long-term boyfriend, and while you knew he was on holiday with his mates—a holiday you hadn’t been invited on—it was still odd that you hadn’t heard from him at all. Not even a text to let you know that he’d made it to Amsterdam. You didn’t expect too much communication; you trusted him to treat you right, but, silly you, you thought your boyfriend might actually miss you and want to say hi.

Last night after seven and a half days of nothing, you completely lost it and called him forty-seven times in a row. And not a single one was answered. So you rang your closest friends and they came over, laptops and tablets in hand, and intense cyber-stalking commenced.

It only took thirty-four minutes for your good mate Lindsey to unearth a damning post on Insta that your boyfriend was tagged in by a girl you kind of knew. The picture itself wasn’t awful; honestly you couldn’t make out much besides silhouettes and drinks. Even the caption wasn’t much; all it said was, “this guy” with a random slew of emojis. But the funny thing was, when you tried to search for it yourself, nothing came up. Meaning you were blocked. You weren’t meant to see this picture.

Twenty-two minutes of super-sleuthing was enough time for your oldest friend Ashley to find every social media account the girl had, and then eventually uncover her phone number.

In thirteen minutes you had a text drafted to her that was so long it was broken into five different parts when you hit send.

And one minute and fifty-four seconds is all the time your boyfriend—well ex-boyfriend—allowed you to speak to him today before he told you he was coming back tomorrow and there’d be no need for you to come see him. Tomorrow or ever again.

So your mates did what they knew best. They took you out, got you absolutely smashed, and then got you up on stage to pour your heart out. Somewhere in between I Will Survive and Total Eclipse of the Heart, you got a bit weepy and ended up calling your brother from the toilet. It took you awhile to realize you weren’t actually sobbing to him but his voicemail, and as soon as you did you pulled yourself back together and headed out for another drink and a rousing rendition of Since U Been Gone.

The few other patrons in the pub were hardly paying attention to your drunken warbling on stage, only breaking from their conversations when your mates would cheer at the end of each song, some of them even offering half-hearted claps. If they were annoyed, they certainly didn’t let on. Most likely, they pitied you; for Christ sake, you pitied you.

When your song ended, you finished the rest of your drink and began flipping through the songbook. Liberation was surging through you and you wanted a song to match your mood; something to serve as a proper fuck you to the twat you’d wasted the last few years of your young life on.

The book closed on your fingers, and you stumbled back in surprise. Were books automated now too?! You still weren’t over the automated tills at Tesco, would you now have to get used to robotic books closing on you when they’d had enough?!


You looked up, your blurred vision slowly coming into focus as you swayed on the spot. A robotic book didn’t close itself on you, a person had closed it. Which was rather rude of them.

[Y/N],” he repeated. Finally he came into view and you cocked your head in confusion.

“Hazza?” you slurred, taking a step closer to get a better look. You nearly toppled off the stage, but Harry was quick to grab you by the waist and steady you before easing you down.

Keep reading

Comfort Inn Ending | 5

➭ “It was you who Jungkook gave his heart to- that is, until the day you broke it. And it is you now, hoping that some faultlines can be repaired, and that some broken hearts can be put back together again.”

pairing: Jungkook x Reader
genre: angst, smut
wordcount: 8.1k

part one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

warnings: angry sex, slight breathplay

You woke up alone.

You stirred, reaching out with one arm. You were half asleep, and when you found nothing but empty space, your eyes fluttered open.

You lay on your side, staring out into your empty living room. You were still lying on the couch and your limbs felt stiff, your eyes felt heavy and bleary as they adjusted to the dim light filtering into your living room. 

It all came back in a rush- Jungkook, holding you, telling you he would give you another chance

Jungkook. Panic crept in as you sat up straight, breathing heavily, suddenly terrified that he was gone. 

Keep reading

Say It // MYG

Suga x Reader

Genre: Smut 

Originally posted by hobiloween

Another night full of boredom as you lie awake in bed alone while Yoongi was at the studio again. He’d been gone all day and all day you had needed him. You wanted him to pound you relentlessly until the bed broke, whisper dirty words in your ear, and make you weak at the knees. But he wasn’t there. You needed him, but he needed to work.

Yoongi was preparing for another comeback. In the studio, all alone, with just his thoughts and his music. The rest of the boys left earlier to go eat and rest for the night. But he stayed. Finishing his work was too important for him. As he was zoning in and out of one of the many songs he finished today, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

“Hello?” he groaned tiredly, rubbing his eyes before placing his head on his hand.

“When are you coming back?” You asked quietly, shyly, expecting him to give you an answer you didn’t want to hear.

“I don’t know. I still have a few more songs to look over…” 

“Do you have to do it tonight?”

He picked his head up at your question. You’re usually not the one to call him while he’s in the studio, not that he minded, he just knew that you respected his time there and chose not to bother him whenever he needed to get something done.

“Do you need something, sweetheart?” 

With that question, you rolled over onto your back and slowly touched your body, imitating the way he touched you, starting with chest, covered by your black lace bra, and slowly moving down to your thighs. His voice alone was enough to turn you even more on than you were before. 

“I need you.” 

Keep reading

Dance Like We’re Making Love (NSFW 18+)

I’m 100% blaming @minhosmeanhoe and @sarcasticallystilinski for this. Together, although unknowingly, the polluted my mind with dirty Dylan thoughts that forced me to write this in like an hour and a half. It’s sickeningly short, but it’s to the point. Also, I want to thank both of these lovely ladies for always being there to fill my mind with fantastic ideas. This did come about because of the new pics of Dylan that have recently surfaced. You can see them here. The song that goes along with this fic is “Dance Like We’re Making Love” by Ciara. Posting twice in one day is a rarity for me but I had to. i’ve also used this gif wayyyy too many times.


Word Count: 1554

Originally posted by hothothotgg

Keep reading

Will You Let It Die...?

Originally posted by kitaplarvekedilerr

Word Count: 1,800

Requested: Hey sweetie, how are you? Can you do an imagine where Shawn’s performing Roses onstage and he gets emotional (like last night’s show) bc Roses is y/n’s fav song and he misses her so much bc they aren’t together anymore and then he calls her and asks her for another chance? Sorry my English, it’s not my first language



“What song do you get most emotional about playing?” The girl who had asked him this question during the Q&A meant no harm, but the feeling of his heart breaking at the question - proved him otherwise.

If you were to ask him which song he got the most emotional about playing, which this girl did, it would be Roses. Not due to the message behind it, that had little to do with why Shawn’s eyes stung with sadness each time he performed it. No, it reminded him of the love he had until recently - you.

Shawn took his time in answering this question, debating on whether or not to tell the truth or give a different answer. However, he didn’t want to hide anything, so he gave her the truth.

“Probably Roses.” He answered simply, wanting to move on.

Keep reading

Talking to the Moon

A lovely anon requested:hey im such a huge fan of your writing!! i was wondering if maybe you could do a peter x reader based off the bruno mars song ‘talking to the moon’ please? thank you so much if you do!!!

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader

Warnings: very few swear words, mentions of implied death?

Word Count: 2, 651

Summary: Fast forward a few years from now, Reader is an advanced S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and Tony Stark’s adopted daughter who’s gone on an undercover mission and Peter Parker wishes there were things he’d said before they left.


A/N: This song is so good and I had too many ideas I couldn’t sort them out which is why this ended up being a huge mess. I apologize in advance for this. The reader and Peter Parker are in their early twenties. I literally wrote this under the full moon which I think is pretty awesome. Also, as you may be able to tell, I’ve been catching up on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Originally posted by marvelgifs

Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars

You’ve been gone for six months now. A little more than six months actually; 191 days as of tonight to be exact. 191 days ago, you got the offer to go on the undercover mission of a lifetime, the duration indefinite. 191 days ago, you had to leave immediately without so much as a goodbye to anyone. 190 days ago, was when you last communicated with the boy- now man, you are in love with.

The day after you were whisked away, you managed to slip an encrypted message through your adoptive father, Tony Stark, to let Peter know that you were okay. It was totally illegal and you spent the whole night encoding and encrypting when you should have been getting your rest for the mission.

You knew your father had the means to keep tabs on you throughout the project and you knew he’d give the team updates about you. You were never safe, but at least you were still alive. Little did you know, for the past two months you were totally off the radar and no one had any idea if your cover was blown, or if you were still alive.

For a while you didn’t think you’d make it out. All you could think of in those moments, was that you might die without ever telling Peter how you felt.

Keep reading

Fair Play

This one took me forever to finish! Hope you guys enjoy it <3 Thanks @pennigg101297 for the beta!

Something ecstatic, for sure. Harry stared at the red cup in his hand… was it really his hand? It seemed completely detached from his body. The boy looked up. Yep, definitely something

The whole room was a recreation of those psychedelic movies. Purple, blue, green, red, the colorful lights blurring everything and everyone else. There were people on the ground, laughing at absolutely nothing, boys with girls and boys with boys and girls with girls and even trios, Merlin’s tits, the whole room exhaled teenage hormones. Someone, Harry suspected it was Dean because he was almost sure that was muggle music, made sure to choose agitated songs, those that practically force you to tap your foot to the beat even when you don’t feel like dancing at all.

Harry dropped his head, eyeing his seemingly detached foot, tapping to the beat. Where the hell were Ron and Hermione?

A very clear memory of his two best friends half naked snogging each other assaulted his mind before he could examine the room.

‘Bloody hell’ he rubbed his eyes like that would be able to erase the awful experience. Okay, he better not search for them this time. Though Hermione wouldn’t go doing… things with Ron if she knew people were pouring drugs into each other’s drinks, right? This was a common room, for God’s sake. An eighth year common room full of grown up students, but still, drugs!

'Haaaaarryyyyy!’ Luna’s round blue eyes stared at him through an unknown fog. She smiled widely, blinking once, twice… and bursting out laughing, most probably at Harry’s confused expression. 'Why aren’t we dancing?' 


Luna giggled again, letting her arms move lazily, tangling in her long purple skirt. 

He could bet the fabric was enchanted, twirling so beautifully in the air like that. Harry stared for longer than he’d planned to, realizing much too late that Luna had already stopped and was eyeing him, her bright eyes fixed on Harry’s feet.  

'Well, you’re already dancing’ she tugged at his sleeve, pulling him with her towards the center of the room. It wasn’t his fault that his feet wouldn’t obey his brain, choosing instead to follow the beat, - louder as Harry approached the crowd - tapping frantically to it. the absence of Ron and Hermione brought a weird feeling to his stomach. He downed the rest of his drink quickly, butterflies replacing the sensation immediately. If they could enjoy the night, so could him, he thought to himself, relaxing his shoulders as best as he could. 

Harry opened his eyes without noticing he’d closed them, his whole body electrified with the feeling of being carried away by the music. Luna was dancing with Ginny now, her girlfriend, Harry had to remind himself, smiling a bit. If anyone else were to end up with Ginny, Harry would probably be a bit worried - after all he cared about her - but Luna was Luna, someone who treated Ginny like a flower, giving her the space she needed to grow. 

The music changed again, a faster song now was drumming through the soles of his feet. Harry turned around, letting himself once again be sweapt away. He could blame in on the alcohol later. 


And the drugs someone had put in his drink. Not just anyone, apparently, since Pansy kept giving him and Blaise that awful smile that could be easily translated as 'I’m being a Slytherin right now’. He looked at his feet for the tenth time in less than five minutes, the bloody thing tapping to that nauseating beat. Draco growled, marching towards the poorly improvised dance floor where his friend kept rubbing herselft all over Theo Nott. 

'What did you put in it?’ Draco inquired, lifting his chin as high as he could to emphasize his height. Pansy rolled her eyes, her arms still hooked around Theo’s neck. 

'Where?’ she turned around slightly to face Draco.

'My drink’ he forced the words to come out, all his strengh focused on keeping his feet still.

Pansy cackled, exchanging a knowing look with the other boy before returning her eyes to Draco. He was still frowning at her, distracted enough that he didn’t have time to fight back Theo’s tight grip on his waist.

Before he knew what was happening, Draco was dancing, squeezed between Pansy on his front and Nott on his back. 

'Just relax, Draco’ she whispered in his ear, thankfully backing away a bit.

'You know you want this’ Theo whispered too, making the hair on his nape stand almost immediately. The boy took a step back, leaving enough space for Draco to run. Not that he would, he most certainly couldn’t.

The sensation was exhilarating. Dancing, he remembered himself, though what he knew about dancing had nothing to do with that. Wizards - well named wizards - took part at ballroom dancing, with proper pairs, slowly, not to the beat of muggle music in crowded spaces. What he was doing seemed so… dirty. He looked around, noticing how no one appeared to care about traditional morals at all. Most surprisingly, no one seemed to care that Draco didn’t care, because at that very moment, as the music resonated through him, he didn’t. He closed his eyes again, letting his head roll around his neck, the tension easily slipping away. So Draco danced, he danced like he expected his father to burst throught the portrait at any second to ruin everything. And when Pansy pushed another one of those - horrenduous - red cups in his hand, he downed it all in one go.

'Come’ Pansy guided him towards one corner of the room that seemed to be even more crowded than the dancefloor. A long wooden table, much like those found in the Great Hall, but a lot smaller, was circulated by students, whistling and shouting at-

'What the fuck’ Draco was sure he was gaping. 

One of the Patil girls and Lavender Brown were dancing on top of it, their skirts so short Draco could bet those closer to the table could see everything underneath it. That was when he spotted a familiar face.

Blaise was on the front row, winking and smirking at Brown, who pretended not to notice him. Draco eyed Pansy, her anger tangible. 

'Can’t let that bitch steal my boys, can I?’

Shit, Draco knew that look.

'Pansy-’ the girl ignored him, pulling at his sleeve and forcing her way through the mass until they reached the table. 

'Just look at them, Draco, poor things’ It was obvious she wasn’t talking to him, her eyes fixed on Patil and Brown. From where they stood the girls could hear them perfectly, as it was proven when they both turned their attentions to Pansy, fumming.

'Fuck off, Parkinson’ Brown seemed wild, like she could jump Pansy at any moment. It was almost funny that they didn’t stop dancing despite the tension in the air. 

'Are you afraid of a little competition, dear?’ Pansy’s smile was wicked and Draco couldn’t help the little smirk forming on his lips. Competition wasn’t exactly the right word for that, because Pansy wasn’t one to play fair. 

Patil turned around to get out of the table, worried eyes darting from Pansy to her friend. Brown, however, didn’t seem like backing away, her hips continuously swaying as she blowed a kiss in Blaise’s direction. Blaise whistled, his dazzling smile encouraging Brown to come closer and she did, ignoring the Slytherin girl completely.

The sound of fabric being ripped in half was followed by something flying straight to Blaise’s face. Draco couldn’t see what it was at first, everyone around him trying to take a look as well while Pansy laughed so loud some of the students at the dancefloor were sending her curious looks. 

Brown got out of the table immediately, her face livid with absolute rage, completely red from embarassment. Draco thought for a second she was going to hex them, but she turned around and ran upstairs to the girls room, followed by Patil who seemed horrified. 

That was when Draco saw Blaise struggling to remove the pink knickers glued to his face. 

'You wicked bitch’ Draco snorted, half amused and half disgusted. Pansy grinned at him, used to Draco’s sweet words after years of friendship.

A new song had started to play, the beat not as fast as the last one, but definitely sexier. Pansy took off her heels, throwing them carelessly to the side.

'You’re coming up with me' 

She got up on the table, taking the Gryffindor’s place. Pansy danced like a Slytherin, which meant all eyes were glued on her the second she swayed her hips. Draco rolled his eyes, still too drunk to make rational decisions apparently, and followed her. It was… intimidating, if not terrifying, to have so many people staring at him from below. Empowering too, now that he could think about it. He started to move, smirking as a few of Pansy’s admirers turned their eyes to him instead, some completely shocked to see Draco Malfoy dancing on top of a table. Whatever, he didn’t have the energy to worry about it that night. 

'Someone bring Harry!' 

The words resonated inside his head and Draco felt all color leave his face. He searched the faces below him, desperately trying to identify who had said that. 

Pansy kept dancing unfazed by his side. Maybe, if he was lucky, she wouldn’t notice if he disappeared in the middle of the crowd. He could try to run upstairs and spend the rest of-

The crowd opened in front of him so Finnigan could push Potter to the front row. 

Green eyes locked with grey as the beat changed again.  

No, Draco felt his face hot, his whole body fervent. That was the first time he’d seen Potter since the trial, in which he was condemned to house arrest until the begginig of his eighth year. Draco had had time to think, plenty of time and silence to think about what he’d done. What Potter had done. Gratitute wasn’t something Draco was ready to feel, but it’d assaulted him nonetheless. The thing was, allowing himself to feel thankful for what he’d done altered the whole way he saw Potter now.

No, he thought again, as Potter took a step forward.


He should run away, turn around and leave. Malfoy was right there in front of him, and he wasn’t ready. Those eyes were the only ones capable of seeing through him, making Harry feel small. He didn’t know why, after all it wasn’t like Malfoy felt any more confident them himself. He looked as desperate as Harry to leave, hide.

He took another step forward, the beat vibrating under his skin. 

'Let’s see who does it better!’ Parkinson suddenly said, followed by a round of whistles and applauses. The girl jumped off the table after winking at Malfoy who seemed about to faint.  'You look scared, Potter. Think you can handle a dancing competition?’ Harry stared at her, gaping because even though Parkinson had already apologized to him, more than once after trying to hand him over to Voldemort the previous year, he was almost sure that didn’t classify them as friends now. She winked again, at him this time, gesturing towards the table.

Malfoy was still staring at him, his feet tapping to the beat contrasting with the rest of his tense body. The drugs, Harry thought to himself while Seamus practically threw him on top of the table. Malfoy had taken them too, apparently. That’s why he’s not running away either… he can’t

Harry got up, the height enough to make him self aware of the huge amount of people staring expectantly at them. Fuck, why did that beat seem so different than the rest? He turned his head to the side, meeting Malfoy’s eyes again. 

'It’s just dancing’ Harry found himself whispering, loud enough for Malfoy to hear, but not the front row of people. They were still staring at each other, making it seem like Harry’s words were meant to be some sort of confort to Malfoy when, in fact, Harry spoke them more to himself. Surprisingly, Malfoy’s shoulders relaxed a bit at that, his shocked expression distracting him enough that his body started moving again. Harry let it wash over him, the music replacing the anxiety bublling in his stomach. It was just dancing, and competing with Malfoy wouldn’t hurt, not this time. 

'Is this the best you can do, Potter?’ the words sent electric waves to his body, firing him up like only Malfoy could. It didn’t matter that there were people staring at him, watching his every move. Malfoy had just challenged Harry, like old times and, fuck, he’d missed this. 

His whole body turned towards the blond, instinctively, Harry’s hands flying to the hem of his hoody and yanking it from the top of his head. People cheered around him and Harry let a smirk form in his lips.

'You wish, Malfoy’

He knew the black shirt he had underneath was a bit too tight - who knew he’d be forced to take the bloody hoddie off - but the way Malfoy’s eyes roamed over his torso had Harry gulping with a dry throat.

'Like what you see?’ Fuck, what was wrong with him? The alcohol, Harry reminded himself resentfully. 

Malfoy, however, took that as a challenge, not an offense as Harry had expected.

He swayed his hips, a wicked smile on his face, and took a step forward.
'Do you?’ his eyes were fixed on Harry’s again.

The thing was, there wasn’t that much space between them in the first place. Now, there was no space at all. 

Malfoy swayed his hips again, brushing their thighs. People went wild with that, encouraging him when he opened the two last buttons of his shirt, exposing a tiny bit of his belly. 

This can’t be Malfoy

Harry’s brain was short circuiting. Malfoy had that look on his face, wicked, completely in control, and this time Harry had to admit he was. Because the moment Malfoy stood with his back to everyone else and forced another button to pop open, offering a complete vision of his navel only for Harry to see, Harry’s body bucked forward without his consent, the heat of Malfoy’s skin radiating through the black fabric of Harry’s shirt where they touched.  

With that, Harry wasn’t dancing against Malfoy anymore, he was dancing with him. 

Malfoy’s arms came to rest on Harry’s shoulders, bringing them even closer. Harry could hear a few gasps, but they were muffled by the whistles and cheers.

It didn’t matter. He felt dizzy and couldn’t blame it on the drugs anymore. He couldn’t stop, they couldn’t stop, the beat so brilliant Harry could bet his heartbeat was in sync with it.  And Malfoy… Malfoy was pressed against him, his hair tickling Harry’s cheek and his hot breath making Harry’s lips tingle.

Harry glanced around, realizing most people who had been watching them seemed to be as lost in the music as they were. 

He wouldn’t waste a second this time.


Draco lost his balance when Potter suddenly backed away. He tried to even his breath, his mind a complete mess, trying to predict if Potter was going to hex him, or worse, mock him, when a firm grip on his wrist brough his attention back. Potter was pulling him with him, quietly signaling to one end of the table that seemed to be the only way out. Draco followed, much to his own surprise because who knew if Potter wasn’t going to hex him where no one could see?

Back to firm ground again, Draco was immediately pinned against the closest wall, the darkest corner of the room.

Potter kept moving, dancing against him.

'Malfoy… Can I-’

He bucked his hips again, the apparent bulge in his pants pressing against Draco’s in the best way possible. Draco gasped, his eyes never leaving Potter’s. It was dark, but not enough that he couldn’t see the way his pupils dilated when his hand pressed against Draco’s hard crotch through his pants.

His moan was muffled my Potter’s lips devouring his mouth, biting and licking like a hungry beast. 

Their kiss was filled with all the tension both boys carried on their shoulders. It wasn’t soft, it was bruising, both of them relishing every trace of animosity and regret. Draco could feel himself burning and melting in it, at the way Harry’s hand dig his nails in his thigh, bringing it up around his hip; at the way  Harry pressed against him, pinning Draco completely to the wall.

Potter backed away slightly, enough for them to breath before kissing him again, slower this time. Draco threaded his fingers in the black locks, bringing Harry as close as he could while his other thigh was lifted to wrap around Harry’s waist. Harry’s hand supported him there, firmly pressed against the wall and- Fuck, Draco felt the whole lengh of it, rubbing up and down, up and down against his- 


The lights were suddenly  turned on, lighting up the common room completely. Several complaints arose from all sides, intensified when the music was gone.

It took Harry two seconds to realize that the force that was compelling him to dance was no longer there, and that it had nothing to do with his desire to press his body against Malfoy’s. What he did not know was if he should be relieved or scared when Malfoy did not seem to want to leave either, his hips rolling over Harry’s in the most delightful way possible, the friction sending small shocks of pleasure up his spine. 

Someone gasped beside him, the noise enough to bring them both back to their senses. Their mouths parted, breaking the kiss and leaving Malfoy’s red and swollen lips to show as proof of what they had been doing, of what Harry had done. 

He’d kissed Malfoy. Harry Potter had kissed Draco Malfoy willingly. There were no drugs, just the enchanted music, he realized, and it wasn’t enough to explain why he felt that pang in his chest when Malfoy turned around and ran, leaving Harry to face all his shocked classmates alone.


Next (and last) part coming up soon!

If I Could Tell Her

Originally posted by winterfellskingdom

Requested: By absolutely no one, at all
Pairings: Jon Snow x Reader
Summary: You have been in a black mood, even after the Great War has ended. Jon had made it his mission to remedy the situation. 
Warnings: An overall bittersweetness 
Word Count: 1,290
A/N: So I have been kicking this idea around for about a month. I was really insired by If I Could Tell Her, which is from Dear Evan Hansen. You definitely don’t have to be familiar with the song to read this, but I did include the link in case anyone was interested!

The hall was full of music and lively dancing, but you could not feel more empty inside. The war was over, Winter had come and gone. And it had taken too many members of your family with it. The Starks had raised you after your mother and father had perished during Robert’s Rebellion, and you had been raised by the Starks as one of their own.

In fact, you were to be one of their own. The day that Robb proposed to you was perhaps the happiest day of your life. Catelyn had insisted on throwing a huge banquet in honor of the engagement. It was one of your last truly happy memories. You had been angry after Robb forbade you from attending the wedding at the Twins, where his uncle Edmund was married to a Frey girl. You should have been there with him, what with your own wedding on hold until the war was over.

You shook the memories away, closing the long forgotten book that was still resting in your lap. Ghost was nestled by your feet, the direwolf a constant companion since your reunion with the rest of the Starks. Everyone was taking the time to breathe, to relax. You all needed the time to adjust to a new era of peace, after so much war. After all of the fighting, it was strange to spend your days lounging about Winterfell.

Everyone did their best to stay occupied. Sansa was up to her knees in new dresses and lemon cakes, and Arya was still in the process of sorting through the armory. And Jon, Jon was ruling the North during his days. And throughout his nights, he was somehow managing to find time to pull you out of the dark hole that you had fallen in. Piece by piece, smile by smile. It was working, but not as fast as he would have preferred.

Ghost was by your side throughout the day, a warm presence helping to combat against the cold wind of the North. And in the evenings, Jon was by your side. The two of you didn’t really speak of the war, or of the people you had lost. Sometimes, he would read to you while you played with Ghost’s fur, sometimes the two of you would stare into the fire, content to be silent and simply enjoy the company of the other.

But today was different. You had found a small locket that Robb had given to you when you were young. The pain of missing him felt fresh and new.

Jon found you in your chambers, Ghost curled up at the end of the bed. It was not unusual, but when Jon saw the piece of jewelry in your hands, he knew that you were hurting. He chose to pull you into his side, slipping the locket out of your hands and setting it on the table before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He loved you, you know.” Jon said quietly, breaking the silence.

You could only bring yourself to bury your face farther in his neck.

“He never shut up about you.” Jon laughed.

“What did he say?” You had somehow managed to shock the both of you. You usually preferred not to talk about him, but hearing Jon talk about how happy he was made your heart feel as if it was a little less hollow than the day before.

“He thought that you smile was perhaps the purest form of happiness available in this world.” He said, ghosting a kiss over your forehead. When you didn’t respond, Jon thought it better to continue. “He thought about how wonderful your sons would be, and how you would be the perfect mother.”

You smiled, a true genuine smile. One of the very few smiles that you had allowed yourself recently.

“He loved you too, you know.” Jon smiled, eyes once again drifting to the locket that was sitting on the bedside table.

“Of course I know.” Jon’s said, holding back tears as Ghost came to rest his head on your lap. You scratched him behind the ears, grateful for the sudden warmth that was filling his heart.

“What else did he say?”

Jon was silent for a moment, attempting to calm his quickening heart. Robb had talked about you incessantly, but Jon had found himself refusing to listen. It was painful to hear his brother, the trueborn first son of Eddard Stark speaking about his betrothed, the woman that Jon had found himself in love with.

Jon had to improvise. “He said that your eyes were the clearest pools in the seven kingdoms, and that he would tear apart this world and the next if it meant protecting you.” Robb was sure to have thought something of the sort at one time or another, had maybe even voiced them. “I brought you something.” Jon said, hoping that he might be able to pull you out of your black mood.

“You didn’t have to bring me-” you tried to insist that a gift was not necessary, but a withering look from Jon was all that it took to make you fall silent. Instead, you resigned yourself to watching him pull a small piece of parchment out of his pocket.

“I know that Robb has a portrait of the two of you painted for this.” He gently took the locket from the bedside table and gingerly opened it. You didn’t miss the flash of pain in his eyes as his thumb stroked over the small portrait of you and Robb.

“I thought that you might like to add this to it.” He handed you the parchment, and as you unfolded it,, you found a new portrait. One of Jon. And Arya. And Sansa and Bran and Rickon. “I know that you feel alone. But you still have a family.”

You could feel tears beginning to well up in your eyes. But they were different tears than the ones that you had shed earlier that day. It was easy to forget that even though the war had taken so much from you, that you still had so much to live for.

Jon carefully slipped the new portrait into the locket across from the old one, before fastening it around your neck. The familiar weight against your chest was soothing. You pulled Jon to you, holding him close. The two of you sat in silence, thankful for the other’s warmth, the comfort that flowed between you regardless of the silence. The fire had died, and the sun was setting over Winterfell before the two of you, accompanied by Ghost, made your way out of your rooms and down to the Great Hall.

You were surprised to find your family there, laughing over their meals while a roaring fire made the large stone room feel warm and homey. Exactly as it was before.

You took your place beside Arya before pulling her into your side. You had been locked up in your rooms for a few days, and you knew that they must have been worrying about you. Arya’s sigh of relief as she nuzzled into you was enough to bring about another round of tears. Sansa tucked herself against your other side, and Rickon and Bran found their way into the hug as well.

You reached out your hand for Jon, who was still standing behind you, and you smiled through your tears when his rough hand had captured your own.

Your family may have been a bit broken, and a little bit smaller. But as you all huddled together, you couldn’t help but smile, thinking of how happy Robb, Catelyn, and Ned would have been to see you all together again.

Your Fave is Problematic: Graham Coxon
  • writes WAYYY too many songs about sexual frustration
  • is the only member of blur not in love with graham coxon
  • always seems surprised about being everyone’s fave member of blur
  • tweets about dicks all day then blames on alter ego(??) mark coxon
  • lurks around blur forums as “tweedo” often yells at people
  • is the reason the blur forum was closed after NME published something “tweedo” wrote
  • constantly uses insane punctuation and misspells words intentionally
  • 13-year old girl selfies
  • “reboomed”
  • cat named “bastard” that had to wear a tie when company stopped by
  • “gra aa hma”
  • mr shoe
  • wears 20 year old tee shirts
  • makes constant terrible innuendo-type jokes in tweets
  • comes across fan fiction, accidentally clicks the link
  • “shitulance”
  • “i am material”
  • “i know all about urges”
  • uses far too many suggestive emojis and “tehee”s
  • the worst

That scene of Peter and Baby Groot listening to music at the end of the movie, and the fact that it’s happening in Yondu’s quarters, gets even worse/better when you think about the intermediate part we didn’t see. 

So what basically went on is that Peter held Yondu’s funeral, burned his body, and then retreated, alone, to his dead dad’s (former) quarters to huddle up with his music player and cope with his grief and general emotional overwhelm from the Worst Day Ever in the main way he copes with everything that’s too much for him to handle.

Except he doesn’t HAVE his music player, because Ego destroyed it; instead, he has the brand new one Yondu gave him, full of songs he hasn’t heard before. Not quite the old comfort object, but something vaguely similar. (Thinking about Peter if he hadn’t even had the Zune is too painful for words.)

So he pretty much curls up alone with his music in the place on the ship where he feels closest to Yondu.

And then a curious little kid comes to find out what he’s doing (how many times did that happen to Yondu, back in the day, in this exact room?), and Peter is able to reach out and share his music with Groot, and basically, instead of grieving his dad alone, he is a daddy to Groot. (That little scene is just such a gorgeous payoff for all the movie’s different threads of parenthood and fathers and childrearing.)

And then EVERYONE shows up for the funeral, and a scene that starts off with Peter grieving alone ends with Peter surrounded by all the people who love him, and all the people who loved Yondu, grieving with him. 

SugarDaddy!Cal Pt.18

A/N: This is getting closer and closer to the end and I’m excited, yet sad because I’m in love with this story that I’ve created. Anyway, I didn’t mean to kill you with the last chapter (I’m lyin), so this chapter is my apology. A whooollee lot of fluff with like a splash of drama. I’m sure you know 100 notes and feedback by now, but I hope you enjoy💕

Boiiiii I’ve already written pt 19 and there’s so much shit that goes down, it might kill you.

**WARNING**: Smut but like…that gentle shit lmaoo

One/ Two/ Three/ Four/Five/Six/Seven/Eight/
Sixteen/ Seventeen/ Eighteen/ Nineteen/Twenty{END}

~ “We won’t get caught”
~ What?
~ There’s pictures of us swapping spit at the mall all over the internet rn
~ You couldn’t have just said kissing?
~ Shut’re in trouble
~ Well fuck
~ Just go on twitter and say the picture is old or something, they won’t know
~ Ahh, you do have a brain
~ Fuck you
~ When? You know I will happily

You rolled you eyes at his comment and decided not to text him back. Locking your phone and placing it into your back pocket, you continued to pass the time by binge watching Law & Order SVU while shoving hot fries into you mouth.

Hours after hours of watching the show, it was about eight in the evening when you decided that you should probably cook dinner. While chopping the raw chicken into chunks, the buzzer for your apartment sounded, alerting you that someone was trying to get to you. Wiping your hands off on the small towel beside you, you quickly trotted to the door to figure out who was there.


There was silence for a few seconds before the husky voice belonging to Calum came through the intercom.“H-hey, Y/N.”

Keep reading


Peter Parker x Reader

This got away from me a little. It’s totally not a drabble.

Prompts 44, 54, and 62: “I’m going to keep you safe.” “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” “I want to protect you.”

Summary: Peter and Reader are both protective of each other in different ways, but both for the same reason. Words: 1.1k. Peter is 18-20.


“You don’t ha- ”

“[Y/N,] please,” he begged, sweaty hands wrapped firmly around the pair that were balled up at his chest, fingers clenching at the fabric of his t-shirt; the likeness of Einstein wrinkled and distorted; not entirely unlike the world around you as time stopped and all there was among the disorder and confusion was the two of you, “I need you to trust me. I’m going to keep you safe.

“I do. I do trust you, Pete,” eyebrows furrowing, shaking your head at him, “it’s not that, I just - ” 

A woman from your World Literature class slammed into you, clock starting back up again as her shoulder rammed itself into yours; the hands at Peter’s chest keeping you from falling over.

Chaos was erupting around you, students and faculty alike were frantically running down crowded halls, dozens of echoing steps and loud, panicked voices filling your ears and clouding your brain; the TV visible from the open door of the lounge broadcasting the scene less than a block away from campus; explosions and gunfire, strange energy weapons pulsing, emitting beams of violence in varying shades.

“-I worry about you. Look at that, Peter.”

You didn’t need the stressed words of the newscaster cowering on scene to tell you how dangerous the attack was; even from where you stood, sheltered by the walls of the institution, you could hear the keening, strange sounds the guns were making. You could hear screaming; could hear crying, pleading voices.

If you really focused, you could see the way the munitions coming from the outlandish barrels were casting this eerie spectacle of light across the reflective surface of the windows behind the TV, colors changing the white streaming from the sun into various alien pastels.

“I want to protect you,” the way he said it like a prayer, a declaration, a promise, his own eyebrows rising at the words spilling from his anxious heart, “more than anything. Let me do that by stopping them.”

Keep reading

Mixtape, LMM/Reader

Prompt: Reader is a single mom + Lin-Manuel Miranda

Words: 994

Author’s Note: I was rewatching the original White House performance and it inspired me. I promise that my next fic won’t be Lin (actually, I can’t promise that tbh). Also, people are following me for my aesthetic posts…they’re in for some shit…

Warnings: None?

Askbox | Masterlist

Your connections had landed you two seats at the White House Poetry Jam. Your friend (who was your definition of ‘connections’) had actually received the invitations, but knew you would appreciate them more.

Your inability to find a date and a cheap babysitter meant your five year old daughter would be accompanying you. You forced her into her nicest holiday dress and was able to drag her along with minimal complaint.

Her attention was thankfully captured when the performances began and you were no longer distracted with making small talk with political giants. You were in the same room as the President, you were on your best behavior.

Keep reading

Mixed up relationship (daveed x reader)

{a/n: so this started as a fic that would be angsty but turned into kink filled smut…also its daveed so like…yeah…um enjoy you filthy sinners}

Warnings: SMUT! Daddy kink, choking, Daveed being the sex God he is, sexxxxxx!

Tapping your pen against your desk, you sighed, no lyrics came, sometimes you wished you had daveeds talent of words, you closed your notebook, grabbing your phone, clicking it open, you had quite a few texts from various friends
‘Um..daveeds new podcast interview is up… maybe don’t listen to this one…they sort of talked a whole lot about you and daveeds very….quote mixed up relationship end quote’ sighing you rolled your eyes, it wasn’t uncommon for a tweet or a passing conversation to be thrust into your face of how very odd people found the fact daveed was dating as one person said ‘a stale piece of white bread’ nice, but people were always like that when the person they love starts dating someone who isn’t them, and it was maybe one person two at worst, for you things seemed fine, and daveed never hid his affection for you, never let people’s words sway how he felt, he had the attitude of a stoned brick, calm, collected and can not be swayed easily. You looked at your texts more from friends about the podcast, and a few about his morning radio interview about the upcoming EP clipping was about to drop. Before too long you found yourself sitting at your laptop, headphones on and hitting play on the podcast, they hosts sounded nice and made you laugh, when daveed came in the questions seemed to turn, many had learned of the split between him and his ex, it wasn’t messy, it was just a natural thing, people shift and move apart, with clipping and acting jobs, daveed was pretty much a Skype boyfriend, you didn’t mind, and neither did his ex, but they had decided, time had run its course. But five years is a long time, and in a seemingly too short period of time, you had become a staple in daveeds twitter and instagram, a few snap story take overs had many wondering where you popped up from, sighing you listened to them talk.
‘So mister daveed diggs, I hear someone new has captured that heart of yours’ you smiled hearing daveeds laugh knowing the flushed smile on his face well,
‘Yeah, she’s…she’s amazing, she makes life very interesting, many clipping songs have come from things her brain has spit out’ you laughed shrugging he wasn’t wrong many times you had no word vomit filter on your brain.
‘Yes, well people have been shouting at us, about the very mixed up relationship, seeing as you stared as Jefferson in Hamilton, the barrier breaking musical, people seem to see this as you sort of slamming a giant sort of white stamp on things’ you sat up turning the volume up slightly
‘I don’t know about that, i wouldn’t say our relationship is mixed up per say’ one of the hosts laughed
‘People said, that this was you conforming to the standard set back in the day, and many listeners say you should find a strong woman of color to keep breaking the world’s barriers, in music and stage and life’ you hit pause sighing. It wasn’t uncommon for people to say stuff like that, many woman at restaurants or bars, seeming to think you could never be daveeds actual girlfriend, and even when he says you are, they never fail to give their number with a comment of ‘when you see the light call me’ you never let it get to you, ever, but some days you felt bad…bad that you weren’t the one people wanted daveed with, sighing you shut your laptop standing. It was quiet in the apartment just you and soccer, who currently was asleep on the couch feet up ears down
‘Well don’t you look comfy’ the only response was a snort from the dog, sighing you looked around the apartment, deciding to just go lay down for a while you tugged your Oakland hoodie off, pulling a loose tank top out, rolling your eyes as it also read in large print ‘oakland’ you tugged off your leggings feeling free again bending over to grab the clothes from the floor, yelping as arms circled your waist lips pressing against your shoulder as you stood still caged by very strong arms
‘Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,’ you laughed shrugging against his chest looking up towards him smiling as he leaned down pressing his lips to yours, he pulled back as you sighed leaning back against his chest feeling safe as he held you tightly
‘Mm can we like never leave this spot’ he laughed his chest vibrating against your back
‘I wish but the bed like five feet in front of us looks hella more comfy than standing’ you nodded as he uncaged you pulling his hoodie off, soon he was in sweats and leaning against the headboard arms open for you, smiling you climbed onto the bed, straddling him, his hands coming to rest just below your butt, looking up at you
‘So how was your day? Many exciting legal tour things?’ He laughed leaning his head against your stomach
‘Oh yeah so exciting as I signed so many documents my hand was going to fall off’ you laughed your hands moving through his curly mane of hair, scratching your nails against his scalp, he groaned happily as you did so
‘God I love it when you do that’ you smiled
‘Taught from my mom, any day can be made better by head scratches’ he smiled his hands moving up and down the back of your thighs soothingly as you hummed and played with his hair
‘So…I listened to some of that podcast you did’ he sighed pulling his head up to look at you eyes tired, you ran your thumbs under his eyes sighing
‘Yeah? I tried to get your friends to make sure you didn’t’ you sighed
‘I know, I got curious, i’m not like upset, I was, but I mean i’m used to those kinds of comments,’ he looked up at you eyes looking into yours, one hand coming up to hold your cheek
‘You shouldn’t have to be, people should just not worry who I fall in love with, who I write songs about,’ slowly he rose finally ending with you being flipped under him his hand moving down your neck and down your shoulder stopping to intertwine your fingers
‘Who I make scream till their voice is gone,’ his lips brushed against yours, causing your eyes to flutter shut, your breathing picking up slightly
‘Who I fuck till they can’t think or see straight let alone walk straight the next day,’ you whimpered slightly as his teeth grazed your pulse point his lips pressing against it feeling your pulse raise
‘Whose sounds make me want never leave this bed’ you opened your eyes as daveeds hands moved to your waist slipping under his tank top, slowly moving up until the shirt pooled right above your breasts, daveed ran a finger down over your bra, smirking
‘The one who if they went through my photo roll, would see the beauty of how very photo talented my girlfriend is, and how much she can make me go insane on tour’ you smirked as he leaned close before his lips took yours causing your back to arch into his chest, eyes closing as his hands moved to unhook your bra tossing it somewhere, you would find it later, his hand moved cupping your breast, his finger lightly circling your nipple, causing a small gasp to come out of your throat, he took his chance his tongue pushing in and dancing with yours, pulling back you whimpered looking up at him as he kissed his way down your body, kissing your breasts, before slowly kissing the beauty marks your clothes hid, his tongue ran down past your belly button stopping at the waistband of your panties, you watched him, breathing heavy as he hooked his thumbs into the band slowly pulling them down, his lips following down your right leg, tossing the panties for you to find later, he kissed up your left leg, his hand hooking under your thigh bringing it up to hang over his shoulder as he kissed your skin, biting softly, causing soft whimpers as he got closer to your core, his eyes held yours as he lowered his mouth down his tongue flicking against your clit as you inhaled sharply back arching hands flying to his curly hair tugging as he sucked it into his mouth his tongue circling it as you moaned, whimpering his fingers moved down before you felt him slowly push two into your entrance, pumping them slowly as he worked his tongue over you. You cried out as he brought the fire in your stomach closer to exploding, your fingers tugged his hair as he worked,
‘Da-fuck…daveed…i’m close please…please can…can I cum…please’ daveeds eyes found yours his eyebrow arching up his way to say no when his mouth was busy
‘Please oh god….daddy…daddy please I need to cum…please…please’ your legs shook as you held yourself back, he pulled back moving up his thumb moving to replace his tongue, eyes watching you like a lion hunting prey, lips moving down hot against your ear
‘Cum for daddy, let daddy hear how he makes you feel, cum all over daddy’s fingers’ you didn’t need any other words before you screamed out back arching as he finger fucked you through your orgasm, his lips kissing your neck, sucking a love bite into your skin, slowly he pulled his fingers out causing you to twitch, he pulled back looking at his fingers before sticking them in his mouth eyes shutting as he did
‘God, you taste like everything I have ever wanted’ you watched him as he slid off the bed tugging his sweats off, grabbing something from the top dresser, the foil wrapper falling as he turned crawling back up on the bed
‘Baby girl, daddy wants you to ride him, show him your pretty face when you fuck his cock’ you moaned nodding as you sat up slowly, he laid down as you moved to straddle him his hands coming to your waist before fully yanking your tank top off tossing it as you aligned yourself with his member, whimpering as you slid down on it, his hands tightened on your hips as he groaned,
‘Fuck, you feel so good around daddy’s cock’ you moaned as he helped you move your hips your, hands going to his chest to help steady you, his eyes never leaving your face as he moaned thrusting up to meet your hips, his head falling back
‘Fuck, daddy…’ he ran his hands up and down your waist as you moved your hips quickly,
‘Fuck, daddy, please, choke me’ he didn’t need to be told twice as his thrusts slammed into you his hand clamping around your throats as you moaned loudly
‘Fuck daddy’ he slammed up into you faster
‘Cum…right now, cum for me again, fuck let me see your face when daddy makes you cum’ you looked at him a mouth opening as you cried out cumming around his cock, your walls clenching around him, his thrusts became sloppy as he fucked you through your climax before finally groaning as he came, slowly thrusting to a stop, his hand moving from your neck to pull you down against his chest, his hand running down your back breathing heavy
‘Fuck I love you, no matter what people say,’ you smiled nodding weakly
‘I love you too, so much’ let’s just say you walked a little funny the next day and the love bite on your neck was not one daveed let you cover in his instagram posts.

Namjoon Scenario: Moonchild.

Request:  Hello :) can you do a Namjoon songfic based off Embarrassed (Blanket Kick)? I loved Namjoon’s line there, “I was too shy to be your sun so I became a cold moon.” :) Thanks!

Genre: Fluff 

There were many things in life that were easy for Namjoon; you never fell into that category. Maybe it was that way in which the flirty swaying of your skirt with your walking made him a little crazier inside, making him feel bashful of the childish and rushed beating of his heart whenever his eyes got lost into the seemingly infinite length of your legs, which wasn’t childish at all, his thoughts were way far from it and he only hoped you hadn’t noticed any of that.

But it was definitely weird the way he acted around you, whenever you threw a smile to his way and he tried to not be embarrassed for not knowing how to react. You were just so pretty, so special, all shiny eyes and silky hair and how could he compete for that? It was as if you were in some sort of different level, way out of his league. Unreachable, like the stars you stared at the majority of the nights from your window.

Namjoon had observed you from afar the few nights he was given the chance, you’d moved right in front of his house, your bedroom’s window at perfect sight, so whenever you sat there with your little notebook and staring up at the starry night sky, Namjoon’s eyes wouldn’t leave your form. He felt like a creeper sometimes, and there were others, when he wouldn’t think about what he was doing because he was too focused on you.

You would wrap yourself with a fluffy blanket, and Namjoon would feel himself smile, urging him and not for the first time, to take his own notebook to scribble lyrics about a girl who loved the night despite being able to glow from within like sunlight itself did.

Keep reading


“Cause all I needed was some words to say That all these feelings don’t mean shit to me And I got way too many routes to take To make this all just go away And find another heart to break So heartless with the words I say Just saying what I’m supposed to say Cause I had nothing for you I can’t love when I can’t even love myself Things I would rather be thoughts at the back of my head But I’m addicted to hurting” Dude the song Drugs by Eden has me fuckED UP Idk what this is im so sorry.

harrypotterandtheintrovertedteen  asked:

i sent this as a private message but then i saw i could ask like this so here can you do a fic where harry is looking on the maurauders map and sees draco in a place in the castle he has never been before so when draco leaves he goes to check it out and finds that draco is painting portraits of harry? sorry about spelling XD

Thank you so much for requesting this, I loved this prompt ~ I changed it up a little though, I hope that’s okay

Harry tossed and turned restlessly in his bed, desperately trying to think of any tactics that might help him sleep. He could count sheep, but Harry had already tried that. He could listen to music, but the only music Harry had was on his CD player, which wouldn’t work on Hogwarts grounds. He could think of his “happy place” like Hermione suggested, but Harry’s all of Harry’s happy places (a Quidditch match, Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes, the Burrow) were often rambunctious and loud, and not at all relaxing or sleep-inducing. Well… there was one more thing Harry could do to try to fall asleep.

“Lumos,” Harry whispered as he reached for the Marauder’s Map, which he kept in the drawer of his bedside table. Harry was careful to be quiet as he moved, not wanting to wake up his eighth year roommate, Justin Finch-Fletchley.

As soon as the Marauder’s Map was open on Harry’s lap, Harry’s eyes instinctively searched for Draco Malfoy’s name. When Harry didn’t see the bond’s name at first glance, he frowned. There was really no reason for Harry to look for Malfoy on the map. They weren’t sixteen anymore, and Harry had no reason to suspect Malfoy was up to anything. In fact, Malfoy had been civil to him since school started, and in some instances, even kind. Harry only looked for Malfoy’s location because of an old habit from sixth year, or at least that’s what Harry told himself.

Harry sighed as he examined the map more thoroughly. Hogwarts wasn’t a very exciting place in the dead of the night when there was no Dark Lord, convicted felons, or barmy professors to wander around in the halls. Harry was about to put the map back in the drawer and accept the fact that he was going to have a sleepless night when he noticed a name hovering in a part of the castle Harry didn’t recognize. Harry’s breath caught. The name was Draco Malfoy.

Harry looked closer at the room Malfoy was in and furrowed his brow. It was on the fifth floor, and as far as Harry knew, that was where Muggle Studies, Music, and Art classes were taught. Muggle Studies definitely didn’t seem like Malfoy, so he must have been in a music or art room. But why in the middle of the night?

As it so happened, Harry did indeed get a sleepless night, but only because he was kept up by the thoughts and questions swimming around in his head after seeing Malfoy’s name on the Marauder’s Map. At breakfast, Hermione scolded Harry for not getting the healthy amount of sleep, and Harry nodded along, but  he wasn’t actually paying any attention to Hermione’s words. He was too busy staring at Malfoy from across the Great Hall and thinking up all sorts of reasons for him to be on the fifth floor so late at night. Harry imagined many scenarios, and while they were entertaining, none of them seemed plausible. For example, Harry’s idea of Draco sneaking into the Muggle Music classroom because he had a secret love of playing tuba covers of Celestina Warbeck songs.

That night, after Justin fell asleep, Harry brought out his map again and found that Malfoy was in the same place he had been the night before. Harry traced the name ‘Draco Malfoy’ with his fingertip and decided that he would find out what Draco was doing there by tomorrow night.

Keep reading

Deconstructing STPD: Odd Thinking/Speech

((This is a multi-part series called Deconstructing STPD: symtpoms and the other posts will be linked as I go along!))

Ideas of reference

Odd Beliefs

Unusual Perceptual Experiences

Odd Thinking/Speech (you are here)


Inappropriate/Constricted affect

Odd Behavior/Appearance

Lack of Close Friends + Extreme Social Anxiety



Odd thinking/speech is one of the most obvious symptoms to everyone BUT those with STPD. In fact, one might not view their own thought/speech as odd until someone else points it out! 

I included sources in this one because most websites don’t have a very comprehensive list of the TYPES of disorganized thought/speech, so go ahead and read those if you like (most of the information will be repeated here)

Odd speaking/thought can be caused by a lot of different things, but a lot of the times the speaking part is because of odd thought. STPD is technically a very mild psychotic disorder, and psychotic itself means “thought disorder”! So it makes sense that thought is unruly. If you don’t experience odd speech, it just means you’re able to filter out the garbledygook inside your head. It would be pretty rare, though.

Odd speech and thought isn’t necessarily CONSTANT and you may find that you can sometimes hold a conversation without once speaking oddly, or even hold onto a train of thought and let it go without it being “off”! Also, you don’t have to only experience ONE 100% of the time. You can experience multiple even in the same train of thought/conversation! Most of this SHOULD be able to apply to thought as well as speech.

For some reason, only four or five types of disorganized thought/speech are listed on websites (and it’s always the same four) so we’ll go through those first.

((I’ll be going over about 20-25 different types of odd speech/thought, so most of it is under a keep reading. Hope you don’t mind.))

Vague: Similar to how it sounds, vague speech is when the speaker doesn’t make their point clear. They answer or communicate in a way that is unclear. example: “Hey, why didn’t you come to the party on Saturday?” “I was… busy.”

Circumstantial: Giving excessive detail when asked a question. Unlike with tangential thinking, the speaker eventually returns to the point. example: “hey, why didn’t you come to the party on Saturday?” “Well, I was almost ready to go–I had my outfit on, my hair was perfect (I even curled it) but my dog just THREW UP. He was fine one moment and then the next he was gagging like no one’s business, well that was the third time this week so my mom said we had to take him to the vet.(you get the idea)

Metaphorical: Again, basically, it’s using excessive metaphor when speaking. For instance. example: “Hey, why didn’t you come to the party on Saturday?” “The grim reaper nearly visited my home that day, nearly took my own dog. We forced him out, however–we managed to keep us safe.”

Over-elaborate: Just as it assumes, using too many fancy words in your speech. example: “hey, why didn’t you come to the party on Saturday?” “My canine companion became ill, my maternal guardian and myself had to transport him to the clinic.”

Stereotyped: Basically, repeating words. A lot. example: “Hey, why didn’t you come to the party on Saturday?” “Party, party, party, I didn’t–I didn’t come to the party, on Saturday, Saturday, Saturday… busy, i was busy, busy, busy busy busy busy busy.” ((this can be present in thought, almost like having a song stuck in your head, but with words or concepts which continuously repeat.))

Okay! Now onto some lesser known ones. 

Keep reading