#but later he was moved to Harry’s quarters and got chained up.

[pauleonotis]

»How foolish of you to release me. I could kill you-«

»I know you could, but you’re smarter than that. You wouldn’t dare.«

(Btw my commissions are open! :D | Ko-fi )

#👀 #look.at.this.background. I DREW IT- I ACTUALLY DID— asdfghjk #anyway back to the story- #basically when Draco was held captive on the ship he first was locked in a cell #but later he was moved to Harry’s quarters and got chained up. #in this scene Harry removed the chain and Draco didn’t hesitate to attack- however he knew he couldn’t do much at this point. 👀 #tbc... #my art #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #drarry forever #drarry squad #pirate!harry potter #siren!draco malfoy #mermaid!draco malfoy #have a great day or night! #<333

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Sixty

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut.

Shorter part than usual...

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Harry thought he was gonna go bananas. Your extra heavy period had passed, and you started your new pack of pills, but you still had refrained from doing anything remotely sexual. Other than a few kisses here and there. You two had been intimate basically since your third date, Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. You wouldn’t even blow him, and you certainly hadn’t let him touch you. The scare you had was barely worth being scared over, but the whole thing had still made you feel uneasy.

He couldn’t remember the last time he actually had to relieve himself, but he just couldn’t hold out anymore. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as he had hoped it would be. But how could it be satisfying when all he wanted was you. He was starting to get anxious because once April hit his weekends were going to be really busy. No more just lazing around in bed. He didn’t want this no sex thing to continue.

“Babe?” He asks you as you come out of the shower Saturday morning.

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk for a second?” You look at him. He was sitting up in bed, twiddling his thumbs. You walk over and sit on the edge of the bed where he was.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Sort of awkward to talk about, but...we haven’t had sex in a while.” Your face flushes. You really hadn’t noticed how long it had been. Ten days maybe? Almost two weeks? “Is everythin’ okay?”

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t noticed how long it had been.” His face falls. “That sounded worse than I meant it to. I just wanted to hop onto my new pack of pills before we did anything.”

“And you have.”

“Yeah, I’ve just barely finished the first week so we need to be careful.”

“So let’s be careful.”

“I think we should use condoms for a while…just as an extra precaution.”

“Um…okay, we could do that.”

“I think it would make me feel better.” You put your hand over his. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay…just…you haven’t even let me touch you, and you haven’t touched me.”

“I haven’t wanted to.” You say bluntly, but your eyes gloss over at the same time, so he sees your agony. “I know I’m being stupid…”

“You’re not.” He moves his hand to cup your cheek. “Just don’t like you pullin’ away from me like this.”

“I’m not.” You lean into his touch and kiss his palm. “I’ve not gone anywhere, my doll.” He smiles at his favorite pet name.

“I really like it when you call me that.”

“What?”

“Your doll.”

“You do?”

“Mhm, don’t know why, but I like it a lot. You don’t do it a lot though, only sometimes.”

“Want me to say it more?”

“Mhm.” He smiles big as you crawl into his lap, straddling him. “Where’d you come up with it?” Your cheeks heat with embarrassment and you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“My Nannie used to call my Papa that.” He wraps his arms around you and rubs your back.

“Ah. And what would he call her.”

“Hun mostly, or lovey, he’s called her lovey a lot. She’d call him dolly sometimes too.”

“And he’d call you baby right?”

“Mhm.” You smile against his neck. Then you burst out laughing.

“What?”

“Well, he was Papa right?” You lift your head to look at him. “So one day when I was visiting them I heard her ask him a question and she said, ‘would you like that, poo?’” You start laughing harder. “And he just nodded yes.”

“They sound really cute.”

“They were, they were very cute.” You tuck your head back where it was. “I’m not quite in the mood at the moment, but maybe later tonight, yeah?”

“I’ll be here.” He kisses the top of your head. He was happy just to have the cuddle.

//

“Babe?!” Harry yelled from up in the loft.

“Yeah?!” You said, coming from the kitchen.

“Can yeh come up here a minute?”

You make your way up the spiral staircase and cross your arms over your chest.

“What’s up? I’m in the middle of making dinner?”

“Just wanted you to see my weekend schedule for the next few months, and it’s just gonna get busier. Sometimes I’m able to double book weddings if one’s the mornin’ and the other is in the evenin’.” You squint at the calendar on the screen. “Do you want me to print it for you so you have it?”

“Sure.” You shrug. “Whatever.” You smile. You move to make your way down the stairs, but he grabs your wrist.

“Don’t you, um, don’t you care that I’m going to not be around a lot?”

“Of course I do, but it’s out my control isn’t it? And it’s not like I can crash every wedding you go to. I’ll find ways to fill my time. I’ll still have homework and other things to do. I’ll probably just hang out with the girls more.”

“You could come to some of the shoots, you could be like my assistant.” You scoff.

“Oh honey, you and I are both too much of a perfectionist to work together, and you know it.” He chuckles.

“You’re right.” He pulls you closer to him.

“I’m making dinner, let me go finish it up.” He lets go of you reluctantly. He prints the calendar for you and comes down the stairs to join you in the kitchen.

“Whatcha make, smells good.”

“Just some stirfry, nothing special.” You put some into two bowls for the both of you. “There’s some tofu in there too.”

“Thanks babe.”

You both sit down to eat. You get a call from Rachel.

“Hey!” You say cheerily.

“Hey, are you busy tonight, know it’s last minute.”

“Um…” You look at Harry. “We’re just sort of having a night in, why?”

“Sarah and I were thinking of going out and having some fun. The boys can come too, I could invite Mariah. We’re just bored ya know?”

“Ooo, yeah, maybe we could go to Tucci’s? Haven’t been there since the fall.”

“Great idea! Wanna meet up around nine?”

“Works for me!” You hang up the phone and look at Harry.

“I really don’t feel like goin’ out drinkin’ tonight…” He says.

“Then stay home.” You shrug as you take another bite of food. “I mean, you don’t have to drink. I may not even drink. It would jut be fun to go hang out with our friends.”

“So if I did stay home, you wouldn’t care?”

“Harry.” You sigh. “What is with you today?”

“Excuse me?”

“You keep trying to pick a fight with me.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. You keep asking me if I care or not, of course I care. I’m not going to force you to go out if you don’t want to, but I’m also not going to stay in if I don’t want to.” You get up and clean your plate. “Come, don’t come, it’s up to you.”

“See, that’s what makes me think you don’t care.”

You were about to groan heavily, maybe even yell at him, but you were starting to recognize his behavior. He was being needy. You hadn’t really loved on him, and you did sort of tell him that tonight you would. Your sex drive had disappeared because of all the hormone change, maybe going out could fix that.

“I’m sorry.” You say calmly. “I’d really like it if you came out with everyone tonight. You’re so much fun, and it wouldn’t be any fun without you.”

“Alright…I guess I could go.” You smile big for him.

Later on you both get ready. You opt for a pair of jeans and black, quarter length sleeve crop top. You decide to leave your hair down and straight for a change. Harry sticks with his black jeans and a white t-shirt. His pearls looked sort of miss-matched, but he always wore them no matter what, just as you wore the rose ring on the chain he had gotten you.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, are we just meetin’ ‘em there?”

“Mhm, well, Niall is ordering an uber for the four of us, and then we’re going to meet Rach and Mariah there.”

“Cool.” He looks you up and down. “Cute.” You wrap your arms around him.

“You look pretty sexy yourself.” You wink and let him go.

You meet up with Niall and Sarah across the street and climb in the uber. Niall volunteered to sit in the front knowing that Harry would want to stay seated next to you. You sat in the middle, and Harry kept his arm around you, pulling you as close as possible to him. Sarah took your picture because she thought the two of you just looked so cute.

“Your hair’s starting to get long Harry.” Sarah says.

“Yeah, I’m ‘bout due for a haircut I suppose.” You run your hand through it.

“Maybe just a trim.” You giggle, and he kisses the top of youe head as you lean into him.

You all greet Rachel and Mariah who are holding hands when you see them. You all find a high-top to stand at so you can decide on what you all want to drink.

“Might just have a seltzer with lime, what do you want?” Before you can answer, Sarah cuts in.

“Tequila shots, that’s what we’re doing tonight.” Your face lights up. “I’ll get plenty of limes for everyone, and salt.”  She drags Niall up to the bar to help her.

“Guess that’s what I’m having.” You chuckle. “I can get us a pitcher of water if you want babe?”

“I can go-“

“S’okay, I got it.” He watches you walk up to the bar.

“Not drinking tonight, H?” Mariah asks him.

“Nah, not really in the mood.”

“Is everything okay?” Rachel asks.

“Yeah, just don’t feel like gettin’ crazy is all.” He smiles at her reassuringly. He looks back over at you. You were giggling while talking with the bartender. He hands you a pitcher of water and some plastic cups, and you come back over. “What was so funny?”

“What?” You set everything down on the table.

“The bartender made you laugh.”

You suck your teeth and pour yourself a cup of water. Niall and Sarah come back with the shots. You hand the water to Harry. You, Sarah, and Rachel all lick your hands for the salt, take the shot, and sink your teeth into the limes. Harry, Niall, and Mariah all stood there stunned. They had all seen you do it before, but it always amazed them.

“Mm.” You say taking the lime out of your mouth, and wipes the juice from your chin with the back of your hand. “That taste never gets old.”

“Okay, let’s hit the dance floor.” Sarah says.

Rachel looks at Mariah.

“I’m gonna hang with the boys for a bit, I’ll meet you out there.”

“Okay.” She smiles and walks over to the dance floor with you and Sarah.

“She needed this ya know.” Niall says to Harry. “She’s been in a funk at work the last couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, in a funk at home too.” He sighs, sipping on his water.

“Trouble in paradise, H?” Mariah asks, tipping her head back to take her shot.

“No…she’s just been uneasy. We had a little slip up a couple weeks ago, nothing major.”

“Define slip up?” Niall looks at him deeply concerned.

“Nothin’ like what you’re thinkin’. She…missed one of her pills. Obviously she’s fine now, but she was worked up about it.”

“That’s so scary!” Mariah says. “What did you guys do?”

“She had me take her to the drug store so she could get a Plan B, and that was that. Got her period, and then she started a new pack of pills.”

“How’d she forget to take it? You know Sarah gets a shot every few months so she doesn’t have to worry about it.”

“It was the day after your party, we were both hungover, we slept in late…and then we…ya know.” He takes another sip of water. “If we hadn’t then it probably would’ve been fine.”

“Even still…” Mariah says. “You guys definitely did the right thing.”

“We haven’t since then.” Niall’s jaw drops.

“You two haven’t fucked in two weeks?” There was complete and udder shock on his face.

“Shut up.” Harry nudges him.

“Sorry, just really surprisin’ t’hear.”

“Have you talked with her about it?” Mariah asks.

“Yeah we did this mornin’… says we need to start usin’ condoms more just in case.” He groans.

“Just be happy you still get to have sex, dude.” Mariah says putting her hand on his shoulder with a smile.

“You know, you have no idea how good and easy you have it. You don’t have to worry about getting’ pregnant, or gettin’ anyone else pregnant. You can just fuck all yeh want and it’ll be fine.”

“You’re exactly right.” She looks back at the three of you dancing. “Think it’s time I get over there.”

She joins the three of you and you all cheer.

“Don’t tell her I told you.” Harry says to Niall. “Some things just need to stay between us lads.”

“I gotcha, no worries.” Niall takes his shot. “C’mon, take your shot.” Harry nods and takes his. They both join the group.

You smile at Harry and take your hands in his to dance with him. You thought he looked really good tonight. You loved when you could actually see his tattoos peak through his clothes. A slower song comes on and you all pair up accordingly. You wrap your arms around his neck, and his hands rest on your hips.

“Are you glad you came out? Because I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah, I am.” He leans down to kiss your nose.

The six of you have a great time, but all nights must come to an end at some point. You all say goodnight to Mariah and Rachel as you climb into your shared uber. You had a large SUV this time. You and Harry sit in the way back. Niall had his arm around Sarah, and they chatted quickly. Harry practically had you in his lap. Your neck was craned while he planted open mouthed kisses on you. Just as he bites into you, you whimper and Niall and Sarah turn to look at you both.

“Could you two wait the ten fuckin’ minutes the car ride is gonna take until you start in with all that.” Harry lets go of your neck with a popping noise. Sarah’s mouth falls open and mouths oh my god when she looks at you.

“Actually, it’s a twenty minute ride. Ask him to turn up the music if you don’t wanna hear.”

“Harry, he’s right, we should-“

He practically tackles you, pinning your back to the seat. He had so much pent up energy from being deprived, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. It only take his a second to get his tongue into your mouth and you shut up immediately, wrapping your arms around him.

“Jesus Christ.” Niall sighs. “Mate, mind turnin’ the music up?” The driver does as asked.

Every once in a while they hear a giggle or two from one of you while you continue to have an aggressive makeout in the back of the uber. You felt sort of silly with your friends around, but you couldn’t find a way to care with the way Harry was kissing you, practically bruising your lips. He moved his mouth back to your neck, and essentially attacked you.

“Oi! We’re here.” Niall says. Harry helps you sit up, you looked fucked out and you hadn’t even fucked yet.

The four of you get out of the car, you wrap your arms around him and kiss on his neck while the four of you stand on the sidewalk. Harry’s arms are wrapped right around you.  

“So…I guess hanging out for a bit is out now…” Sarah says.

“Sorry guys, ngh, not tonight. Another time though. Have a good night.” Harry says. “I know I’m about to.” He says under his breath as he pulls you across the street.

//

“Holy shit.” Sarah says to Niall as they head up to his apartment. “He’s like an animal.”

“That was nothin’.” He says as they get inside.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve literally been in a car with him, a group of us, while he’s fucked someone in the backseat.”

“Did you hear the popping sound when he let go of her neck? How does that not hurt?”

“People like what they like babe.”

“I know, but Jesus.” She giggles. “I’ve never known Y/N to be so okay with PDA like that.”

“Yeah I figured she’d tell him to quit it.” He shrugs.

//

Harry gets you upstairs to your apartment, your lips had barely left his skin the entire time. You wanted it just as bad as him, he riled you up in the car pretty good. Once you’re inside you’re pinned up against a wall, and you’re sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. He groans as he presses himself against you. He was rock hard.

“Alright.” He breathes, and picks you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

You tug at the hem of his shirt and practically rip it off him. You unbutton and unzip his jeans and yank them down his legs. You push him back onto the bed, and kneel in front of him. He was breathing heavily, and he hissed when he felt your hand on his cock. You both moan when you wrap your lips around his tip. You suckle on it, then run the tip of your tongue along his slit. You lap up all the precome that had been leaking from him.

“Fuck.” He says, hands flying to your hair as he bucks his hips up. “Take your clothes off, please. Need you now.”

You stand up and take your shirt off, throwing it at him. He chuckles as you slide your pants down your legs, taking your panties with them. He sits up and you stand between his legs. His hands go right for your ass cheeks and his mouth wraps around one of your nipples. You head falls back as twists the piercing with his teeth. His hands slide down slightly to grip the backs of your thighs.

“Want you to sit on my face, will yeh do that?” He asks looking up at you. You nod your head yes.

Harry gets farther back on the bed so his head was resting on his pillow. You didn’t sit on his face often, but when you’d do it, it always felt incredible. You straddle his face, and slowly lower yourself onto him. You grip the head board when you feel his tongue on you. It swirls all around your folds as his hands hands knead the globes of your ass. He suckles on your clit and you let out a moan. You rock your hips back and forth on his face, needed that extra friction. The stubble on his chin felt like heaven.

“Fuck, Harry.” It was music to his hears, and even better that he was hearing his favorite song for the first time in two weeks.

He flicks his tongue faster on you, and before you know it you’re absolutely screaming from your overdue release. You move off of him while trying to catch your breath. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and smile at you. He moves to pull you down to him, but you inch back.

“Condom.”

“Babe, do we-“

“You want this cunt, you put the condom on.” His mouth falls open. It was a word you rarely said, if it all, so he knew you meant business.

He gets up and goes into the bathroom as you lay down and wait for him. He comes back with three condoms in his hand, and places two on your bedside table.

“A little presumptuous don’t you think?” You ask propping yourself up on your elbows.

“If you think you’re getting off easy tonight, you’re fuckin’ crazy.” He tears the condom open and slides it on his dick. “Now, open those legs, I have some work to do.” You giggle as he gets on top of you.

You were glistening for him, and he couldn’t wait to get inside. You groan softly when you feel him push the tip in, and he slowly pushes the rest of the way in with gritted teeth. He couldn’t feel you fully of course, and he hated it. He hated this stupid fucking condom, but it was your call and he had to respect that. He looks down at your and your head was rolled back in your pillow. He smirks as he start to rock his hips back and forth.

“Harry.” You moan as his hands find their way to your breasts.

“Want me to fuck yeh over and over, angel?”

“Yes, please.”

He fucked you into the mattress, there was no doubt about that. He ended up using four condoms instead of three. Once in a while he’d take a break and just finger you. He fucked you with him on top, he fucked you with you on top, he fucked you on both of your sides. He got you up to seven orgasms. Not quite the ten or even eleven that he was striving for, but he knew he’d get there eventually. You admitted that you were feeling raw and it was time for him to come one last time, so he did.

Once you had gone to the bathroom, barely able to walk, you crawl into bed with him. You lay your head on his chest, and his arm goes around you.

“Please, don’t ever make me suffer like that again.” He says, playing with your hair.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t realize you were in such agony.”

“It was awful. I wanted you everyday. I know not everything is about sex, but…”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted.” You look up at him. “I just…between being scared and the way my hormones were all out of wack, I just didn’t have the drive, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” He kisses you tenderly on the lips.

“Never stopped loving you though.” He smiles and kisses you again.

“I should hope the fuck not.” You giggle and settle back down on his chest.

“Think we scarred the two of them for life, Niall and Sarah?”

“Nah, wasn’t Niall’s first time seein’ me like that in a car with someone.”

“Maybe just Sarah then. She’s never really seen me like that in public.”

“Was fun makin’ out in the car.”

“Yeah, it was.” You feel your eyes get droopy.

“Love you, angel.”

“Love you too, my doll.”

#harry styles #take it slow #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fic #imagine if i just ended the story here lmao #im not sure when ill be updating taking it slow next tbh #im not sure where i want to take it #i really dont feel like writing about the aruba trip #maybe a time jump? #but i hate time jumps so maybe not

[supernatural7543]

lokixreader pt 2

sorry for the late update. i think its a little shorter too, so sorry.

warnings. there is blood and abuse in this as well as suicidal tendencies such as cutting. please read at your own risk.

Your POV

   You walked into your bathroom with a change of clothes. You took off the clothes you were wearing and examined the dark bruises that still lined your body. It hurt to touch them. It hurt to move but you powered through. You pulled off the band aids on your arms. You examined the self inflicted cuts. Most of them were ok. It would hurt like a bitch to wash but it was ok nonetheless. You then carefully peeled back the bandage on your left arm and looked at the gash. It had kinda gotten better but it still hurt and was still bleeding. You knew you probably needed stitches. You got in the shower and cleaned yourself. You were right the soap hurt your cuts but you knew that they still needed to get clean. When you got out you dried yourself and placed the band aids back on. “Jarvis?” You called “will you see if anyone can bring me a sewing kit?” “Right away ma'am.” He replied. A few minutes later you heard a knock at the door. “Just leave it there.” You called. You walked over to the door wrapped in a towel. Blood was dripping down your arm. You opened the door and grabbed the kit. As you closed the door a hand stopped it. You froze as you looked at the person. You sighed. It was just Loki. “Hey Loki sorry you startled me a little.” You grinned. But you noticed that he wasn't looking at your face but at your arm. Shit! You thought. He took a step forward.  You glanced down “Loki I'm fine it's just a little scratch nothing serious!” He shook his head “y/n I can see it. It cuts through some muscle. That is a serious cut!” You had backed up to the bathroom door one step and you would be good. “It's nothing I can't handle! Just please don't tell anyone. I don't want them to know.” He nodded. “Promise?” You said. He nodded again. “Good.” You ran through the door and locked it. You heard a knock but you didn't care. You dropped the towel and sat down on the edge of the tub. You heard through the door “y/n please give me the sewing kit. I can fix you up.”  You pulled out a needle and slid the kit under the door. You pulled out some floss and threaded it through the needle. You flinched slightly when the needle punctured your skin. But besides that the patch up went well. You got dressed and bandaged your arm. Pulling the sleeve down you walked out of the bathroom...right into loki’s chest. He delicately took your arm and pulled up the sleeve. “How did this happen?” He asked. You pulled your arm away and started walking away while responding “it didn't, okay!?” You got in the elevator and the doors closed before Loki got there. When you got down he was there. You gasped “h-how?” He nodded to a door “stairs.” You pushed past him (which hurt because of the bruises and cuts) and went to join the avengers. You sat on your couch and Thor pulled Loki down next to him. You were looking at your hand when you happened to glance up and see that Loki was staring at you. Finally you couldn't take it anymore you looked straight at him and said “listen I know I'm ugly as fuck but didn't your mother teach you it was rude to stare?” You got up and stormed away so you didn't end up seeing loki’s astonished look on his face. You laid on your bed reading when you heard a knock at the door. Steve opened it and came and sat down by you. “Hey you okay?” You rolled your eyes “yeah I'm fine!” You said with a huff. He sat with you. He didn't know how bad your past was and he never asked. “I think I'm just tired, imma go to sleep” you said. Steve nodded and left closing the door. “Jarvis activate relax protocol.” Soon the sounds of music and a babbling brook lured you to sleep. 

     You woke up in your old room and walked out to see your mom and dad sitting at the table having pancakes. You sat down and were enjoying the peace when your mom got up. She walked behind your dad and pulled out a gun. You tried to warn him but no sound came out. The gun fired and your dad was dead. Your mom then grabbed you and dragged you to a room. She threw you against the wall. Your head was throbbing. Your mom walked over and pulled out a bat. “You never saw anything!” She yelled as she hit you, again and again. You had bruises forming and you were bleeding from the cuts that the bat had been made. You woke up in a cold sweat. You were breathing heavily. It's just a dream. You told yourself that until you fell back asleep. 

   The sun woke you up eventually and you saw a note that was slid under the door. It said 

     Y/n,

We got a mission and didn't have the heart to wake you. Loki is chained to the couch in the living room. We didn't want him to wander. We left the key on the counter if you want to unlock him. If you don't that's cool too. We left about four so he has been there since then. We might be gone for a couple of days so be careful. 

                                              Love, Nathasha

Shit! You thought shit shit shit shit! You raced down stairs. They were not kidding. He was in the full on chains from the mouthpiece down to the ankle piece. He looked miserable. You ran over to him and started to remove the chains. As you removed them you saw blisters had formed. You felt really bad. “How long have you been here?” You asked quietly as you removed the mouthpiece. He rubbed his jaw before he answered “they put me here before I woke up.” Your jaw dropped. “Let me fix you up.” You asked. “Let me fix you up first.” He shot back. Your eyebrows shot up. “Fine you first!” He got up and started to go to the med bay but you stopped him. “We are going to my room.” You said and he just nodded. You sat him down on your bed. “Take off your shirt.” You told him. “people usually buy me a drink first.” He said as he pulled up his shirt. You chuckled as you grabbed your first aid kit and a rag. You turned around and you gasped slightly. Loki was stronger than he looked. You turned around to hide your blushing face. You took a deep breath and faced him. Loki was now reading your favorite book. You walked forward and dipped the rag in some cleaning alcohol. You placed it on one of the blisters and Loki hissed “sorry! I should have warned you!” You said quickly. Your hand went up instinctively. You felt Loki's hand on your chin. you looked up. “It's okay y/n. I am fine. You didn't hurt me.” He gave you a sweet smile. You continued to clean his wounds and told him stories that you had read or heard when you were younger. After about an hour you were done. “That should do it. How does it feel?” You asked “it feels good. Now it's my turn to play doctor. Roll up your sleeve.” He replied. You sat down and pulled off your shirt. You had a tank top underneath so you knew it wouldn't be a big deal. Loki carefully peeled off the bloody bandage and inspected the would. “Ok I'm going to take out the stitches and clean the wound then I'll fix you right up.” He told you everything he was going to do before he did it. Once he finished he looked at you. He scanned your body and his eyes fell on each of your band aids. “May I?” You hesitated then responded “only if you watch what every movie I want with me until the team gets home.” He nodded and cleaned your cuts carefully. 

    When you both were done you went down stairs it was about 6:00 PM so you figured you would just order pizza. You got a half meat lovers quarter pepperoni quarter veggie. You set up the movie and grabbed the pizza. You went and sat down next to Loki. “What are we going to watch today?” He asked. You smiled and said “a childhood favorite. The Princess Bride!” You pressed play and you both watched the movie. 

Loki's POV

He didn't really care for the movie at first but he saw how happy it made you and decided to give it a chance. To his surprise he loved it! He loved the sword fighting the wrestling, the test of wits, the fire swamp, all of it. Y/N piped up “Loki? Would you mind grabbing me a Dr Pepper? It's in the grey box on the counter.” Loki thought for a second before a smile spread across his face and he replied with “as you wish.” The look on her face was priceless; she looked like a deer in headlights. She then blushed and looked down. He got up and gave her the drink. “Would you like some?” She asked “if you will offer.” Loki replied. She smiled and said “as you wish” as she placed the can to his lips. By the time the movie was over she had fallen asleep on loki's lap. This continued for a few days and by the time the avengers had come back Loki had seen all the Harry Potters, scooby doo, jaws, young frankenstein, what about bob, spaceballs, Monty python and the holy grail, naked gun, night at the museum, and what's up doc. This time they were watching dirty rotten scoundrels and she had fallen asleep on his lap again. Loki heard the elevator door open and the avengers voices. He turned around and held a finger to his lips. The avenger went quiet. “She left you there the whole time?” Thor asked, clearly worried. Loki shook his head and gestured to y/n he then whispered “she's asleep.” The avengers stared in astonishment at the sight.  And Loki just grinned. 

[ckret2]

My Son’s Favorite Pokemon

Fandom: Pokémon, Detective Pikachu movie Characters: Harry Goodman, Tim Goodman, and Detective Pikachu Words: 2200 Summary: Harry adopts a Pikachu to give his estranged son for his thirteenth birthday. Notes: *casually spends the whole fic dodging the fact that we don’t know the name of Tim’s mom or grandma* Inspired by this post, which @dialovers linked to me. Warnings: Proofing is for people who aren’t riding on the high of posting fic for a movie that’s been out less than a week.

"He's going to be over the moon when he receives you," Harry told the newly-adopted Pikachu sitting on his lap. "You're my son's favorite Pokémon. He loves Pikachu. When he was a kid—a younger kid, I mean—he used to make up fantasy dream teams—you know, wild things, with crazy rare mythical Pokémon—half of his dream teams had Palkia, and one of the lake guardians to calm it just in case they ran into Dialga, heh—that's Tim. Big dreamer and smart as a whip."

For a moment, the bubbling excitement in Harry's chest abated. He had no doubt that Tim was as sharp as he'd ever been—no doubt, even smarter now—but was he still the excited little dreamer Harry remembered? Harry's mother-in-law said Tim was still making good—well, okay—grades in school, he wasn't getting in any trouble; but he kept so quiet these days, she had no idea what was going on in his head. He hadn't talked about the League in over a year.

Harry pulled himself from his worries. "Anyway," he said, and the Pikachu turned its gaze away from the bus window back to Harry's face. "Every single team he dreamed up—every one—had a Pikachu on it. He's always wanted to have a Pikachu."

The Pikachu smiled up at him, and Harry wasn't sure if it understood what he was saying or if it was just happy to hear its own name so many times. The shelter he'd picked up the Pikachu from didn't know anything about its training history—it came in a little roughed up, but no more or less than would be expected of a typical wild Pokémon or a Pokémon that had recently been in a battle directed by a trainer and hadn't had time to heal—and they had no idea how much human language it had learned to understand, if any. But that was okay. It was well-behaved, it was socialized around humans, and it didn't have any problems with unprompted shocking. Tim could teach it the rest in time.

Harry felt his excitement growing again. Tim's thirteenth birthday was two days away, and according to his grandmother, he still hadn't gotten his first Pokémon. Harry couldn't wait to see Tim's face when his dad showed up with a Pikachu just for him. He remembered how Tim used to smile when trainers passed through with theirs, or when he was clinging to the chain link fence surrounding the patchy dirt battlefield at the neighborhood playground to watch kids battling.

He couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd seen Tim smile. He didn't have much to smile about, in the year leading up to... And then Harry hadn't seen Tim at all in over a year and a half, except in pictures his grandmother sent. He always looked so solemn.

If anything would make him smile, it would be a Pikachu.

The bus slowed, and Harry told the Pikachu, "This is our stop." He scooped his hands under it in preparation to carry it, but to his surprise the Pikachu nimbly climbed his arm, tugging and stretching the sleeve of his jacket, to settle on his shoulder. "Hey!" He reached up to pat the Pikachu. "You comfortable up there?"

It happily chirped, "Pi-ka!"

As he stood, he saw a woman sitting across the bus aisle quickly drop her head, fighting back a smile. She'd probably heard him gushing about his son to the Pikachu. He felt a lot more conspicuous with a Pikachu on his shoulder—people kept looking at him and smiling. As if his good mood needed to be buoyed any more than it already was.

He couldn't wait to get up to his apartment to talk to Tim. He pulled out his phone, dialed, and put it between his ear and unoccupied shoulder while he searched through his massive mess of a keyring—lock box keys, PO box keys, several keys from old cases he thought might be needed again in the future, a dizzying array of keychain cards for the stores he frequented—looking for the lone little key to his mailbox. He wasn't going to tell Tim about the Pikachu, but he could let him know he was coming to see him for his birthday. Maybe drop a couple of hints to get him excited.

The Pikachu leaned forward to peer at Harry's many keys, the mailbox door, the mail he took out of it. "You're a curious guy, aren'tcha?" He handed a piece of spam mail to Pikachu to see what it did with it, just as Tim picked up.

"Hello? Dad?"

"Hey, kid!" And suddenly, he didn't know what to say. It had been—how long?—almost three months since he'd last talked to Tim? He had to sound cheerful. He had to sound loving. He had to sound dadly. And that was hard, because he was cheerful, and loving, and a dad, but suddenly he didn't know how to act all those things at once for the benefit of a kid he hadn't seen in a year and a half and spoke to on a quarter-yearly basis—was he being dad enough? Did he sound fun and fatherly enough to compensate for three whole months of silence when he couldn't think of an excuse to call his own son? That was a lot of pressure to put on the first five seconds of a phone call. "How's—how's it going?"

"Fine."

He waited a moment to see if Tim was going to add anything else, until the silence was verging on awkward and he hurried on: "Did I catch you at a bad time? Are you busy?"

"No."

Okay. Monosyllabic. Yeah, that was fine, Tim was almost a teenager—jeez, Tim was almost a teenager—he was probably, probably picking up the uncommunicative teenager schtick. Harry glanced at the Pikachu to make sure it wasn't going to lose its balance as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. It was nibbling on the corner of the envelope he'd handed it. "Well, I—wanted to wish you a happy early birthday! The big 1-3. I can hardly believe it." He couldn't believe he'd missed the entire 1-2.

"Yeah. Thanks, dad."

He pulled out his keyring again, and started the laborious search for his apartment key. "And your grandma tells me you still don't have your own Pokémon, huh? Getting a little up there, aren't you? I thought you were gonna have a whole team by thirteen." Okay, it wasn't his most subtle segue—was it just him, or was it a lot easier to covertly interrogate suspects and interview witnesses than it was to pick his own kid's mind? Was that a problem other detective-dads had?

"Yeah, no, I—I don't want a Pokémon."

Harry dropped his keyring. "What?!"

"I changed my mind."

"You ch— But you love Pokémon! You've always wanted to be a trainer."

"That's a kiddie dream, dad," he said, like two-days-from-thirteen-year-old Tim had vast wisdom far beyond that of mere eleven-year-old Tim. "It's basically impossible to make a living as a trainer. Especially in the League circuit."

"Yeah, but..." Harry looked down at his keys in dismay, as though their ungainly sprawling collapse to the floor were somehow representative of the progress of this conversation. "But some people do. You know, the really good ones." He half knelt to pick up his keyring; Pikachu jumped off his shoulder, grabbed it, and held it up for him. He held the mouthpiece of his cell phone out to whisper, "Thanks."

"Those are just statistical outliers. They skew the data. It makes it look like more people succeed than really do." Harry's mother-in-law had said that Tim was getting really into math these days. Tim's grades had dropped after his mother's death; by now, he was shakily passing in most of his classes, but recently he'd shot up to star student in math. He must have got that from his mother. Harry had to pay someone else to tell him how to do his taxes.

He finally got his door unlocked; Pikachu squeezed in the moment the door was open wide enough for it to squeeze through. "When did this change?"

"I dunno." Tim's tone was dull and defensive, like he resented having to tell his dad about changes in his interests. "It's not a big deal."

It was a big deal to Harry. It was the biggest shift in Tim's life since—well—since the last time Harry had seen him in person. "So... you don't want any Pokémon? At all?" Harry looked down at the Pikachu. It was sniffing at the potted plant under the window. He hissed, "Hey! Fss fss! Fss!" and gestured for it to get away from the plant. He had no idea if the leaves were safe for a Pikachu.

He almost missed Tim saying, "No? Not really."

"Huh." For a moment, he wasn't sure what else to say. He considered, Would a Pikachu change your mind? but was afraid it wouldn't and that his presumption would just embarrass them both. Tim said he didn't want a Pokémon, so...

In his mind, he could still picture the smile on Tim's face when Harry handed him a Pikachu.

He didn't have any other excuses to prolong the call. "Well... I guess I'll s— Do you want me to visit for your birthday?" He could already feel his stomach winding up and preparing to sink; he knew what the answer was going to be. He should have just said he was going to show up. If he could still offer the Pikachu, he'd have had a reason to declare he was coming, instead of asking his own son for permission to see him.

But even though he was Tim's own father, he didn't feel like he had the right to demand to see him, even on his birthday—especially on his birthday. If there was ever a time when he had the right to demand Tim's company, it had been right after he moved to Ryme City to find an apartment for them. When his mother-in-law had called to say Tim was refusing to come, that was when he'd had a chance to veto a grieving eleven-year-old's decision and tell him he was coming anyway.

But he hadn't. He hadn't want to hurt Tim even more by making him move when he wasn't ready. He'd thought he'd get Tim to come later; but now, it felt impossible to ask. Like, in that moment, he'd somehow forfeited his right to be Tim's dad.

"No, that's okay," Tim said; and, right on cue, Harry felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. "You don't have to."

I want to, Harry wanted to say; but after a year and a half of being so careful not to push his son, he couldn't push now. "Okay. I'll—I'll call you, all right?"

"Sure."

"Happy birthday, kid."

"Thanks. Bye, dad."

"Bye." It wasn't until the exact second Tim hung up that Harry realized he hadn't said I love you.

With a sigh, he sank down on his couch, dropped his head into his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair. Pikachu tentatively padded on all fours between his feet to look up at his face. It was still holding its junk mail in its mouth. It had chewed off one side of the envelope. "Hey," he said wearily. "Change of plans." He wondered if he could return the Pikachu to the shelter, quickly decided that would be a pretty heartless thing to do, and said, "I guess you're gonna be staying with me a while instead."

"P—" It plopped down on its little yellow tush so it could take its envelope out of its mouth, looked up at Harry again, and said, "Chaaa!" A smile twitched at the corner of Harry's mouth.

The Pikachu ripped at the gash it had made in the envelope, noticed the colors of the decorative border on the paper inside, and pulled it out. It unfolded it, held it up, and examined it. For a moment, it looked like it was consulting a little Pikachu-sized folding map.

Harry huffed a laugh. "I'm not gonna be able to leave you in the apartment. Pikachu are really high energy, right?" That had been one of the reasons why he and his wife had decided not to get Tim a Pikachu when he was too young to be responsible for it—they would have ended up doing all the work to burn off its excess energy. "You're gonna make me really stick out when I'm on the job, though. Everyone looks at a Pikachu." He propped his chin in his hand, looking at the Pikachu consideringly. "Maybe if I got a hat to disguise you..."

Pikachu had lost interest in the spam, dropped it, and was now wandering over to the TV. It got up on its hind legs to sniff at the screen. Harry wondered if it could smell electricity.

Tim would know.

"What do you say? Wanna try out detective work?"

It twisted to smile at Harry over its shoulder. "Pika pi!"

Comments/reblogs are welcome! If you want to leave a tip or like the fic on AO3, the links are in my description!

#pokemon #detective pikachu #harry goodman #tim goodman #pikachu #spoilers #fanfic #my writing

[wild3flow3r]

Chapter Fifteen

June 3rd

Lorelai is pleasantly drunk. After just downing her sixth drink, she finds herself wrapped up in Harry’s arms with her back pressed against his chest. They are swaying back and forth to some song neither of them know from the live band playing in the overly crowded pub. Lorelai never thought turning twenty-eight would feel this good.

Harry leans down to sing some of the lyrics into her ear, but because he doesn’t know the words it just comes out as a garble of nonsense with a couple words from the real lyrics shining through. The laugh that passes Lorelai’s lips can’t be helped. Harry himself drank past his usual limit tonight. It is a celebration after all, he kept on repeating.

Even when the band ends their set and exits off the stage and everyone else in the crowd disbands, Lorelai and Harry barely move an inch. The soft beating of Harry’s heart into Lorelai’s ear blankets her into a sense of security. Harry’s arms tighten around her, both the one around her shoulders and the other around her torso.

“Whaddya wanna do now, birthday girl?” Harry speaks after a small hiccup.

“Wanna go bowling,” Lorelai murmurs back, loud enough so that her words can just be heard.

Lorelai feels Harry’s chuckles before she hears them. “Too late for that. We can go this weekend though.”

She whines but doesn’t argue with him. “Birthday present?”

Harry grins as he presses a kiss to her shoulder. “We gotta go home for that.”

Lorelai perks up and nods her head instantly. “Home we go then.” She untangles herself from him and makes her way over to her seat at the bar, picking up her purse.

“It’s only ten, we can stay a bit longer,” Harry says, leaning against the bar next to her seat. His eyes stare at her teasingly, but she only glares back.

“No,” Lorelai drags out the ‘o’ for a few syllables. “I want to go home to get my present.”

“But-”

Lorelai presses a finger against Harry’s lips, literally blocking his next words from coming out. “Call a cab.”

He nods his head mockingly before pulling his phone out and ordering a cab like he was told to. By the time he’s done he places a hand on the small of Lorelai’s back and leads her out of the pub for the night. He wraps his arm around her shoulders as they wait for the cab on the sidewalk.

“Can you give me a hint?” Lorelai eventually asks, breaking their short silence.

“Hmm?” Harry replies, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Can you give me a hint for my present?” she repeats.

Harry scoffs and shakes his head. “No way.”

Lorelai pouts. “Why not?”

“Because we’ll be home in twenty minutes and you’ll see it then.”

“Where have you been hiding it in my flat without me knowing?”

“I just put it somewhere you don’t often go.”

Lorelai frowns while thinking over his words in her head. Finally, she gasps. “You put it in the linen closet?”

Harry bites his bottom lip to hold back a smile and nods.

“How long have you had it there?”

“Put it there about four nights ago.”

“But what if I had to go in there for something!”

“You don’t.”

“But what if I did?”

“Well it’s pretty well hidden in there, just in case you had to go in there, although I was correct in assuming you wouldn’t. That closet is just for show, all the linen’s you usually use are in boxes underneath your bed.”

“I use that closet pretty often, thank you very much. I can’t believe you, hiding my present in my own house. You’re very cheeky.”

Harry gives an over exaggerated bow just as the cab pulls up to the curb. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Lorelai nods and wraps her arm around Harry’s. “Yes, let’s see how well you’ve hid the present in my moderately-”

“Never.”

“-used linen closet.”

***

“You can’t be serious.”

Lorelai’s sat on her bed, now changed into her pajamas after Harry threatened her or else she wouldn’t get the present. He’s since stripped out of his shirt, but still had his trousers on. He’s standing on the other side of the bed, watching her carefully.

“I’m being very serious.”

Lorelai stares at the small velvet box in one of her palms. Inside lay two things. One, a key to Harry’s apartment, and two, a necklace with a small teapot charm attached. Lorelai didn’t know which one to freak out over more. She picks up the key first.

Harry kneels down on the mattress in front of her. “I have to start working later nights now that I’m picking up some business. I won’t always be able to come around everyday anymore, but you could come around mine whenever you feel like it so even when I come home at two in the morning we’ll still be able to spend some time together, even if it’s just sleeping in the same bed.”

The tears well up in Lorelai’s eyes, her lips turning into a pout. “I could come over whenever I want?”

Harry nods enthusiastically. “Every day, if you want to. I’ll clear a drawer out for you in my dresser and everything.”

Lorelai leaps up, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck and tackling him down so he’s lying on the mattress. She presses kiss after kiss all around his face, Harry breaking down into laughter at her.

“I’ve got to get a key made for you then.” Lorelai brushes her nose against Harry’s.

“I’d ask for a drawer as well, but I already take up a quarter of your closet with some of my suits.”

Lorelai looks up to see Harry’s recent addition to her room in the last couple of weeks. Every time he stayed the night he’d leave a suit behind, and it has started to take up some space recently. Lorelai sits up, but her legs are still straddling Harry’s waist. He remains on his back, staring up at her with hooded eyes. She picks up the box again and takes out the necklace.

It’s a simple necklace at first glance, but as Lorelai takes a closer look she realizes the elegance to it. It’s a round, silver teapot tipped over just slightly, a gold drop of tea falling out of the spout. Lorelai marvels at it, carefully tracing it with her index finger. She pushes her hair to the side and wraps the chain around her neck, securing the jewelry in place with the clasp. She lets it fall to her chest.

“Perfect,” Harry murmurs, reaching up to play with the necklace himself.

Lorelai blushes, because although he’d been playing with the necklace he was staring directly into her eyes. She leans down again to kiss him, but just before she presses her lips to his, Harry flips them around. He holds both of her hands with his, pushing them back into the mattress on either side of Lorelai’s head.

Slowly, softly, Harry trails kisses along Lorelai’s collarbone, his tongue pressing wet spots as he goes along. Once in a while he’ll put some pressure on her skin with his teeth, leaving small bite marks in his wake. Lorelai can never help the small whimper that leaves her lips whenever he does that. Eventually, he makes his way back up so he can press another kiss to her lips.

“You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me, Lorelai Sterling.”

~

June 27th

Lorelai got to work early today, all thanks to Harry of course. He wanted to get breakfast with her before he had to go in, and he dropped her off in front of the building a full twenty-five minutes before she was supposed to arrive.

“So you’ll come around mine tonight then? Won’t be home until ten, maybe eleven, but we could get breakfast again tomorrow morning together.”

“Sure thing,” Lorelai leaned over the console to place a quick kiss against Harry’s lips. “See you later.”

“Have a good day, Skipper.”

And Lorelai was sure it was going to be a good one, until she stepped off the elevator. Usually when she enters the office, Xavier’s door is slightly ajar and she can spot him leaning over his desk doing some kind of work. Today, it is shut tight, although she knows he’s in there by the small amount of light that falls out through the crack at the bottom of the door. And then there’s a moan, one that makes Lorelai instantly step back in embarrassment from overhearing her boss in such an intimate moment.

Lorelai isn’t sure what to do. She’s started to backtrack from the office, back to the elevator, but suddenly the office door opens and a woman steps out. Both of them freeze. Xavier steps out of his office to see the problem, stopping behind the woman. Their clothes are rumpled and hair a mess, signaling to Lorelai that they had probably been in there for quite some time.

“Lorelai-” Xavier starts, but she’s barely listening to him, because the woman standing in front of Xavier isn’t the woman Harry’s shown her pictures of as his aunt. And that’s not even the worse part.

“Listen, we can explain,” Xavier tries again, but Lorelai’s eyes won’t leave the woman.

“Why?” Lorelai whispers.

“What?” Xavier responds, a furrow to his eyebrows.

“Why?” she repeats, her voice much harsher now than before.

“You can’t tell Harry,” the woman whispers. Laura. Laura Styles. Harry’s mum.

“What?” Lorelai spits out, following quickly with an incredulous laugh.

“He doesn’t know. He can’t know.”

“Why would he care? I mean, he loves you, he wants the best for you, but I’m sure he wouldn’t give a flying fuck that you’re cheating on the father he hates with his Uncle. I mean, it’d be a great fuck you to Zachary-”

“Lorelai,” Xavier cuts her off.

And then it hits her. Lorelai’s never understood the expression ‘like a ton of bricks’ before, but now she does. But instead of all at once, it’s one brick being thrown at her at a time. Each new truth and revelation, all of the clues, hitting her one after another.

“How long?” Lorelai isn’t even sure if they can hear her.

“You have to understand-” Xavier starts.

“How long?” Lorelai yells, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

“Please, don’t tell Harry.” Tears begin to fall down Laura’s cheeks.

“Zachary doesn’t hate Harry for no reason, does he?”

“We messed up one time, but that’s all it took,” Xavier murmurs back. “And my brother knew it wasn’t his because the time frame didn’t add up. But our parents made us hide the secret, they didn’t want a scandal.”

“You have to tell him.”

Laura chokes back a sob. Finally, she says, “We can’t. It would ruin him.”

“Fuck what other people think, he deserves to know!”

“I don’t mean that,” Laura starts again, tears staining her face and her breaths coming out in short pants. “He wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. It would break him. After everything he’s gone through already, he can’t go through something like this.”

“I can’t keep this from him. How would you expect me to keep this from him?”

Laura takes a step towards Lorelai, but she backs away from her. “You love him, don’t you?”

“I-” Lorelai stops herself. They haven’t said it to each other yet, Lorelai didn’t think they would for a while longer, but she knew she did. She did love him. “Yes.”

“You know this will hurt him. If you love him, then you won’t tell him.”

“If I loved him then I would. I wouldn’t hide something like this from him. He deserves to know. He deserves to know that Xavier is his father.”

Both Laura and Xavier flinch at the words. The two of them probably have never spoken the words themselves, and if they have then the last time they did was probably well over three decades ago now.

“You shouldn’t be the one to tell him,” Xavier fights back.

“Then you guys do it!”

“He’s going through so much right now. With his new job and Zachary harassing him almost daily, trying to figure out his relationship with you, this is too much right now.” Laura tries to defend herself, but it just sounds like excuses. She’s probably been making them his entire life, new reasons on why he shouldn’t know.

“I can’t sleep in his bed with him, eat dinner with him, spend any time with him while knowing this. I can’t do that to him. I can’t lie to him.”

“You won’t be lying,” Xavier tries.

“Hiding the truth is lying.”

“Lorelai, you just don’t understand-”

“I understand that I love him, and because of that I understand that he should know this. I know I shouldn’t be the one to tell him, I know doing that might even make him hate me by default, but if you guys loved him, if you care about him just as you claim you do, then you should have told him a long time ago.”

With that, Lorelai finally turns around and leaves the office, leaves the building, and leaves to figure out how to tell Harry.

***

It was nearly noon when Lorelai meets up with Harry. She feels sick to her stomach, but she can’t be with Harry knowing this. Who could?

They meet at a small park, Harry instantly agreeing to meet her after he heard the tremble of her voice over the phone. Lorelai stands up to greet him, lifts her arms up for a hug, but Harry stops a few feet away from her, holding a hand up to ward her off.

“Harry-”

“My mother already told me,” he grits out. “She told me everything.”

Lorelai lets out a breath of relief. She’s thankful that he’d heard it from his mum rather than him. But still, why was he holding her back.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t waste your time.”

Lorelai takes a step back, the words physically having pushed her back.

“What?”

“She showed me the emails.”

Lorelai frowns, her eyes hardening. “What emails?”

“The ones to your family.”

“What are you talking about? What did your mother tell you?”

“You put up a really good act these last few months. Pretending you cared about me when all you wanted was my money. My family's money.”

Like a punch to the chest, Lorelai is breathless. It makes sense, really, it does. Xavier has access to Lorelai’s email account, he could’ve created some fake emails as soon as she left the office.

“No, Harry. That’s not what’s happening-”

“And my mother and uncle tried to confront you about it this morning. I can’t believe you, Lorelai!”

“You have to listen to me-”

“What? Why would I want to listen to any more of your bullshit lies. I trusted you!”

“No, Harry, no, they’re lying. They’re lying to you, that’s not what happened.” Her chest heaves, barely being able to breathe. There aren’t any tears yet, but she knows they’ll be here soon.

“They have proof, Lorelai! They’ve sent my proof! You’ve been planning this for months, ever since I fired you from Clemens & Son.”

“No-”

“Don’t bother going back to Xavier’s office anymore, you’re done there. And I want my key back,” Harry holds out his hand.

“You have to listen to me.”

“You can stop pretending now. Just give me the key.”

“Harry-”

“The key, Lorelai!”

For a second, only a second, Harry lets the anger disappear from his face to show the pain. To show the absolute heartbreak he’s feeling in that moment, the same heartbreak Lorelai is suffering. But then, it’s back to anger, ten times worse than he was before.

Lorelai hands over the key, unsure of what else to do. He wasn’t listening to her, he wasn’t giving her the chance to speak. He isn’t going to find out the truth, and Laura made sure of that.

“Goodbye, Lorelai.” Harry steps away, turning around, and walks away with finality. The end of their relationship.

#1dff #cmiyc #cmiyc15 #hahahah this is a big one!! #let me know what you think :))) #can't wait to hear lolol

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Monday 2 September 1991 - by Alinda

Monday 2 September 1991

Dear mom and dad,

Hogwarts is not as nice as I thought it would be. I’m sitting now in my bed and wished I was back in my cupboard. At least there I was left alone. Dudley had been afraid to be in the same room as me and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia acted like I wasn’t even there. But it was better than this.

I had been so excited to go here. I don’t know why I thought everything would be better when I would be around other wizards, that I would be able to make some friends. Well, I think I made one friend at least, even though I haven’t seen him since the sorting ceremony. I met him after Uncle Vernon had left me at the train station. I didn’t know how to get onto platform nine and three-quarters and I was afraid to be stranded there. And then I saw some people that looked like they were also going to Hogwarts, with trunks and an owl. They helped me get onto the platform. I had to run at the barrier and I really thought I was going to crash into it. But the crash never came and when I opened my eyes I was at a platform next to a scarlet steam engine. Two of the boys from that family, Fred and George helped me get my trunk on the train. And when the train was on his way, Ron, their younger brother came to sit with me in my compartment. He has a lot of brothers and he’s afraid he won’t do as good as his brothers. I’m sure he will. One of his brothers works with dragons in Romania and his other brother is in Africa. Oh, and he has a rat, named Scabbers. That reminds me, I’ve named my owl Hedwig. I hope you like the name. I think it suits her.

During the train ride, I bought a lot of candy from the trolley witch. I know I had said I wouldn’t spend all your money on useless things, but I was very hungry and I wanted to try out all the new strange candies. I shared my candy with Ron. He only had corned beef sandwiches and he doesn’t like corned beef. I liked the chocolate frogs the best, one they are chocolate and two they have cards of famous wizards. I now have cards of Albus Dumbledore, Morgana, Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, Merlin and Druidess Cliodna. I think I’m going to try to collect a lot of them. They will be able to keep me company when I feel alone.

The nasty boy from the robe shop came by in the train. He asked me if I was Harry Potter and was mean to my new friend Ron. He said I shouldn’t make the wrong sort of friends. I wasn’t very nice to him and I now wish I had been. I didn’t want to shake his hands and be friends with him. But now he and his friends make fun of me all the time. Everyone looks up to him down here. But he said mean things about Ron and Hagrid. Even about you. I hate him. I wish I’ve never met him.

After the train ride, all the first years took boats to Hogwarts. And then it was time for the sorting ceremony. All the new students had to try on an old hat to be sorted in one of the houses. I was afraid I won’t be sorted in any of the houses and would get sent back home. And maybe that had been better then what really happened. When my name was called the entire hall started to whisper. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on my head. The hat was black inside. The hat started speaking. He found me very difficult. He had to think of where he should put me since I had courage, not a bad mind and talent, but most importantly a thirst to prove myself. I was afraid to say anything and just waited until the hat would put me out of my misery. He continued, saying I could be great, that it was all in my head and that Slytherin will help me on my way to greatness. And with that, the hat shouted SLYTHERIN.

I took off the hat and walked towards the Slytherin table with shaking legs. Draco Malfoy, the nasty boy is in Slytherin. Most people at the Slytherin table were clapping, but Malfoy just looked at me with a piercing look. I set down next to Theo Nott, who was also sorted in Slytherin. Malfoy said I better start behaving like a real Slytherin if I wanted to survive my first year.

Ron was sorted in Gryffindor and he looked happy to be there. I wish I was sorted into Gryffindor as well, at least then I would have had one friend in the dormitory. Now the only person that even says hi to me is Zabini.

The dinner after the sorting didn’t go well. All the dishes got filled with all kinds of food, like roast beef, roast chicken, sausages, bacon, potatoes, peas, and gravy. I was hungry so I tried to fill my plate with a bit of everything, only to have Nott grabbing the things off my plate and putting it on his own. Malfoy was laughing, just like Crabbe and Goyle. When Nott’s plate was full he finally let me keep some of my own food. I eat it as quickly as possible before they would take my food again.

One of the girls that were also sorted into our house stated that I was only a half-blood and therefore not a real Slytherin. It was then that a ghost sat down next to Malfoy. The boy didn’t seem to like it and it made me smile a little. Malfoy saw that and he kicked me under the table. The ghost is the bloody baron. He’s our house ghost. He said it was a good thing I was in Slytherin, that with the famous Harry Potter it was a given that we would win the house cup for the next seven years. Everyone around me started laughing and Malfoy stated that it was more likely that I would make them lose the cup because I wasn’t made to be a Slytherin.

Oh, I also need to tell you about the strange thing that happened when I was looking at the teacher's table. Professor Quirrell was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin. When that teacher looked into my eyes, a sharp, hot pain shot across my scar. I couldn’t help to respond to the pain and clapped my hand against my head. Of course, that was just another thing Malfoy made fun off. He said: ‘Your little scar hurting you, potty?’ I just looked at the table and tried not to cry. Why do they have to be so mean to me?

After dinner one of the prefects led us to the dungeon, where at the bare stretch of the wall a doorway appears when you speak the password. Inside is the Slytherin common room. The room is long and has rough stone walls. Round, greenish lamps hang on chains. It’s furnished with lots of low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas, skulls and dark wood cupboards. On the walls are tapestries with wizards on it. One side of the common room has windows so we can look into the lake. It’s a bit weird to stay underground like this.

The prefect gave us some simple rules, like that only Slytherins, are allowed to go into the common room and that boys and girls are not allowed to go to each other’s dormitories. I share my dormitory with Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Goyle and Crabbe. There are no windows in the dormitory and the place is lilted by a green light hanging from the ceiling. The beds are four-posters hung with Slytherin green velvet curtains. Our trunks had already been brought up and placed by the separate beds. Mine is straight across of Malfoy’s bed. I had to wait until all the other boys were done in the bathrooms before I could go to brush my teeth. They didn’t want me in there with them. Zabini gave me an apologetic look when Malfoy forbade me to follow him. After I brushed my teeth in silence I quickly put on my pyjamas and went to bed. I closed the curtains and tried not to think of how mean the boys were being to me.

During the night I had a very strange dream. I was wearing Professor Quirrell’s turban. And the turban kept talking to me, telling me that I should be happy that I’m in Slytherin, that it was my destiny. I told the turban I didn’t want to be in Slytherin, that I wanted to transfer to Gryffindor. I tried to pull the turban off my head because it was becoming heavier and heavier, but it tightened painfully. And then Malfoy was there, laughing and pointing at me. After a while, Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher. He laughed also, with a high and cold laugh. Next, there was a burst of green light and I woke up sweating and shaking. I hope none of the other boys knows that I had a nightmare and won’t make fun of me for trashing in my bed.

This morning I sat by myself for breakfast before my classmates came down to the great hall. Afterwards, I tried to find my way to our first lesson. Everyone was whispering around me and trying to get a look at me. I don’t like it at all. It’s very annoying. It’s hard enough to find my way around the castle. There are so many staircases, tricky doors and fake doors. And I think they move around, just like the people in the portraits.

My first class was potions from Professor Snape. He’s our head of house, but I don’t think he likes me very much. I think he hates me, just like all the other Slytherins. When he took the roll call he made fun of me. Off course that made Malfoy and his friends snigger behind their hands. He asked me questions about mixing ingredients and where I could find a bezoar. I didn’t know the answers. He kept saying fame isn’t everything. Me not knowing made Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott laugh out loud in class. And there was a Gryffindor girl that kept raising her hand, making Ron roll his eyes at me. Snape took points from Slytherin because I didn’t know the answer, and later he took points because me potion wasn’t good enough. Not as much as he took from the Gryffindor’s, he seems to hate them more than he hates me.

But me losing points didn’t go well with my Slytherin classmates. They shoved me into the wall when we were walking to our next class. Malfoy said that he would hex me in my sleep if I manage to lose even more points for our house.

Next, we had Defence Against the Dark Arts. I had really been looking forward to this class, but the lesson was a bit of a joke. The classroom smelled strongly of garlic and Professor Quirrell didn’t really tell anything interesting. The only good thing about the lesson was that nobody paid attention to me.

For charms, we have professor Flitwick. He’s a tiny little wizard who stands on a pile of books to see over his desk. When he reached my name during roll call he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. Malfoy and his friends laughed and made jokes about me wooing the teachers. I really hate Malfoy, I really hate him. I don’t understand why he needs to be so mean to me. It’s not like I ever did anything to him.

The last lesson of today was History of Magic. It’s being taught by a ghost, Professor Binns. He drones on and on and it’s difficult to keep all the names in order. I think it will be easier to learn it all by reading the book.

After the lessons, I went to the library to start on my homework. But Malfoy and his bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle had followed me. Crabbe stole my bag and turned it around, so all the books fell out. And then Malfoy said that this is just the beginning. They left after that and I had to pick up all my stuff. One of my quills got broken and my Standard Book of Spells is damage from the fall from my bag. I’m glad they left, so I could finish my homework in peace.

Dinner was just as bad as the first night. Crabbe and Goyle sat down on both sides of me and kept stealing my food. I hardly eat anything because of them. And now I’m on my bed, writing to you. I went straight here after dinner. I don’t want to hang out in the common room. I’m afraid of what they will do next. So maybe you can understand why I don’t like it here at Hogwarts. Learning magic is great, but the teasing and bullying are worse than it was with Dudley back home.

I’ll write you again soon, and hopefully, things will be better than.

Love Harry James Potter

(find the full story at https://archiveofourown.org/works/15351042/chapters/35620452)

#fanfic #Harry Potter #harry in slytherin #letters #bullied harry #Draco Malfoy #drarry

[ferryboatpeak]

more tom/harry/ben/meri

[this bit picks up after our last installment. original wear you like a necklace here, threesome backstories here and here. buckle up comrades, this ~4.5K installment is not suitable for work/life/anything. thanks fi for beta’ing/sticking with this verse!]

They kiss for a long time, long enough that Meredith must be getting bored with it, long enough that Tom aches for some kind of forward momentum. If Harry was anybody else, if Tom was anyplace else, he’d be tugging at Harry’s t-shirt, working his hands under the hem to drag his fingers over warm skin. But he doesn’t know what the rules are here. He’s picking his way along the edge of an uncharted cliff, freezing in place instead of risking a false step.

The scrape of Meredith’s chair finally interrupts them. Harry’s fingers slacken in his hair at the sound, and Tom looks in her direction. She smiles. “Let’s clear up,” she says matter-of-factly, getting to her feet and stacking Ben’s dinner plate on top of hers.

For a moment, Tom’s conscious of the sharp rise and fall of Harry’s chest, inches from his own. It reminds him to even out his own breathing as Harry scrambles off of his lap, grinning and ruffling Tom’s hair before he scoops up their plates and saunters off toward the kitchen. Tom resists the urge to throw a wineglass at the back of his head.

Ben’s waiting on the other side of the table with the rest of the stemware balanced in his hands. He looks at Tom for a long moment and the weight of his appraisal feels as heavy as it did when he was watching Harry kiss Tom’s mouth raw. Tom presses his knuckles against his lips. Harry keeps crashing into Tom and bouncing away, impossible to predict or rely on. But the way Ben’s looking at him, that’s reliable. Something is going to happen. Heat licks between Tom’s hipbones.

“Get the last of it?” Ben gestures at the table with his elbow.

“Got it.” Tom picks up the potato dish and the unused butter knives. He’s got a free hand to get the door, so he veers in front of Ben as they cross the terrace. His shoulder blades prickle under Ben’s stare.

After the candlelit twilight of the dinner table, the kitchen seems sterile-bright. Tom blinks, feeling suddenly sober. Everything is sharp edges and fine details: the glint of silverware clattering into the dishwasher rack, the stitching on the placemats that Harry shakes out and stacks in their drawer, the tendrils of hair escaping Meredith’s bun and falling under the collar of her shirtdress as she stands at the sink rinsing plates and glasses.

Ben slides the glasses onto the counter next to her and kisses the back of her neck as he crosses to the refrigerator. She tips her head back to smile at him as he digs in the freezer. Ben emerges with a bone to toss to Colin, who noses his prize along the floor until he manages to clamp his jaws around it and disappear into the next room.

Tom deposits the potato dish next to the sink and returns the knives to the silverware drawer. Then he waits awkwardly, hands empty. On the other side of the island, Meredith hands Harry a clean platter to dry and put away. The two of them are easy in the kitchen together, their movements like a well-worn ritual. Meredith washes; Harry dries. Tom watches as if he’s paused at the edge of the dance floor, counting out the beats, waiting for the right place to step into the rhythm.

Before he’s figured it out, Ben joins him at the island. He drapes an arm around Tom, and Tom relaxes into him. Harry’s wiping down the cooktop. Meredith’s closing the dishwasher. Suddenly the kitchen’s close to sorted, and Tom doesn’t know what happens next. He tips his head against Ben’s shoulder. Wherever they’re going, the best way to be ushered in is under the protective weight of Ben’s arm.

Meredith shuts off the tap and turns toward them, drying her hands on a dishtowel. She shakes it out with a snap that punctuates the evening like a page break. As she folds the towel into neat quarters, Ben circles the island and wraps an arm around her waist. “We’re going to head upstairs,” he says. He inclines his head first at Tom, across the island, and then at Harry, leaning back against the counter by the sink. “Would either of you like to come with?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Harry’s still got a towel in his hands. He snaps it at Ben as he passes them, and tosses it on the island behind him as he lopes toward the stairs.

“Not that that stopped you,” Meredith says dryly. Harry slaps his hand against the doorframe as he rounds the corner out of sight. His laughter echoes back into the kitchen.

Tom studies Meredith for a moment, trying to figure out what she meant, before she and Ben turn back toward him. Just above the edge of the granite countertop, Tom can see Ben’s thumb against the chambray of her dress, rubbing slowly back and forth along her hipbone.

“What do you think?” Meri asks Tom. “It’s your call.” They’re both focused on him, a united front, the combined force of their attention excruciating. He can hear the thump of Harry’s footsteps disappearing up the staircase, drumming the reminder of his presence into the kitchen.

Tom runs his fingertips along the concealed strip of rough granite on the underside of the countertop. Meri’s always like this, scrupulously asking whether he’s okay, what he wants to do. He tries to appreciate it, even if it would feel better for Ben to just throw him over his shoulder and haul him to their bedroom. “Yeah,” Tom says, looking back up at them, forcing himself to get past the part where he has to talk. “Yes.”

Meredith extends her hand to him across the island, smiling. She links her fingers through his and tugs him toward the hallway. Ben turns out the lights in the kitchen and then the hallway as they pass, leaving them to climb the stairs in the moonlight filtering through from the windows. For a moment, it feels like it’s just the three of them again, like this is a dance that Tom knows the steps to.

But then, as they reach the top of the stairs, Harry emerges from his bedroom. The wild card. The confounding variable. Tom’s stomach quivers.

Harry’s arm’s tucked against his chest, carrying something. “Candles?” Meredith asks, as if she’s amused but not surprised.

“Candles are nice,” Harry says, unabashed. He’s first into Ben and Meri’s bedroom, and as he crosses to the bed, Tom hears the same track of footsteps that crossed the ceiling in the kitchen the day before. The sound of Harry setting up the domino chain that Tom tipped off a moment later, toppling the tiles in a circle that ends up right back here.

In the dark room, Ben’s hands settle on Tom’s shoulders, anchoring him from behind. No one moves to turn on a light. There’s just enough moonlight to see Harry’s figure move from one bedside table to the other, dividing the glass jars between them. Tom hears the metallic rasp of a lighter, and then the first candle flares as the wick catches. Streaks of candlelight throw Harry’s face into eerie relief as he lights the second candle, hollowing out his cheeks and darkening his eyes. Harry focuses on each of the four candles solemnly, as if he’s leading some kind of ritual, watching the wicks until each flame is established. Acolyte, Tom thinks, sex acolyte, but he can’t tell how the joke would land in the hushed and glowing room.

There’s movement in his peripheral vision, and Tom looks over in time to see Meredith’s head incline slightly toward Harry as her eyebrows curve upward. The expression is directed past Tom at Ben. As Tom watches, she conducts an entire conversation through shifting eyes and incremental tilts of her head.

Ben’s hands tighten on Tom’s shoulders. “H,” he says as Harry straightens up from the candles, “why don’t you take care of my wife.”

By way of response, Harry strips off his shirt and jerks his belt loose. The smooth fabric of his trousers puddles to the floor. Harry carelessly kicks them away from his ankles, and Tom watches his tube socks pad across the floor toward Meredith. Harry’s an optical illusion nearly naked, longer than he should be. As Tom’s eyes travel upward, there’s an impossible amount of leg between the tops of his hiked-up socks and Meredith’s hand at the waist of his black boxer briefs, and an impossible amount of torso above that.

Harry’s hand on her face echoes the way he’d touched Tom at the table, and as Harry kisses her -- slowly, thoroughly, just the same way he’d kissed Tom -- Tom wonders whether there’s any trace of himself on Harry’s tongue for Meredith to catch. Ben’s hands knead at his shoulders, his thumbs digging into the tension at the base of Tom’s neck. Meredith’s hands slide into the dip at the base of Harry’s spine.

Harry plucks ineffectually at the buttons of her dress until she pulls back from their kiss, laughing, and lets him tug it up and off. Harry cups one of her breasts in his hand, thumbing over her dark nipple, and Tom realizes with surprise that she’d been wearing only her knickers under the dress. He wonders if she knew where this evening was going, if Ben did, if Harry did. Just how far behind has he been? How far behind is he still?

Ben’s hands drop to his waist and Tom shivers at the feel of Ben’s fingers against his bare skin. He drags his hands slowly up Tom’s sides, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. Tom obediently lifts his arms for Ben to ease his t-shirt over his head.

Just as Tom loses sight of Harry and Meredith behind the fabric of his shirt, Meredith shrieks with laughter. When Tom emerges she’s on the mattress, backing away from Harry on her elbows to leave him space at the end of the bed. He hooks his fingers in the strip of lace at her waistband and pulls off her knickers with an efficiency that seems ingrained, like a tennis pro rearing up for his thousandth serve.

There’s an ease to the way they touch each other, a familiarity in the way that Harry slides his hands up the back of her thighs, that reminds Tom of their comfortable routine together in the kitchen. Was there a time when Meredith used to painstakingly assure herself of Harry’s consent the way she does Tom’s? There’s none of that in the way she is with Harry tonight, only the casual comfort of long association.

Harry kneels between her parted legs with his head cocked to the side, considering. “Looks the same,” he says, sounding both curious and disappointed.

“You idiot.” Meredith kicks at his shoulder with her heel. “It doesn’t change color when you have a baby.” Harry cackles and dips his head downward, and Meredith’s laughter cuts off with a surprised ah as Harry buries his face between her legs.

From his angle beside the bed, Tom can see the slow dip and push of Harry’s head, just enough to imagine the flat strokes of his tongue against Meredith. She sighs warmly, her hips rising to meet Harry and her hand tangling in his hair. Ben’s hands are quick at the button of Tom’s shorts. It’s both a relief and an embarrassment when Ben slides them down with his pants in one go, embarrassing how hard he is just from the sight of Harry and Meredith and the small wet noises of Harry’s mouth.

Tom turns to Ben, reluctant to look away but meaning to ensure he’s not the only one in the room with his cock out. He runs his hands up Ben’s chest, waiting, as Ben pulls his polo shirt over his head. Ben drops his shirt to the floor and cups Tom’s chin in his hand, and Tom melts into him a little, relieved of the burden of having to ask for what he wants. As Ben kisses him firmly, with the tingling scrape of his beard all around Tom’s lips, Tom tucks his fingers in Ben’s waistband and fumbles for his belt buckle, his zipper, his cock. Behind him, Meredith hums with satisfaction.

Ben backs Tom to the edge of the bed and then pulls away to sit against the headboard. Meredith, lost to the all-consuming pull of Harry’s mouth, barely notices when Ben’s hip nudges against her shoulder. For a moment Tom’s panicked and unmoored, the only person not in the safe harbor of the bed.

Ben pats the mattress between his legs. “Sit.” It’s not quite the same way he’d say it to Colin, but it’s directive enough that Tom thrills to it. This is what he wants, not Meredith’s over-cautious process of consult and consent, but Ben telling him what to do, without Tom having to say a word.

Ben’s legs spread to accommodate him as he kneels on the mattress and knees his way close. He’s on solid ground now, knowing what there is to do, lips and teeth and tongue ready to kiss and lick his way down Ben’s solid chest to take him in his mouth.

But Ben curls a hand around Tom’s arm and turns him around, maneuvering him until he’s sat in front of Ben, looking over Meredith’s spread knees to the top of Harry’s head. Even caught between Ben’s thighs, secured against him with Ben’s arm around his chest, Tom restlessly envies Harry’s purposefulness. Harry’s the only one at work. Tom wriggles tightly against Ben, flexing his back against the jut of Ben’s cock.

Harry glances up at them and Tom catches the flick of his tongue in the candlelight. Tom throbs unexpectedly with it, as if Harry’s licking at him instead of Meredith. He’s still watching when Tom gasps with surprise and relief at the first touch of Ben’s hand. Tom closes his eyes for a moment to shield his expression from Harry.

His heels slide against the sheets as he pushes himself back against Ben, as if it’s possible to work himself close enough to merge into him. Tom tips his head backwards to rest on Ben’s shoulder and leans into his neck, feeling the prickle of Ben’s beard against the thin skin of his throat. He wants to touch every bit of him, wants to drown in the feel of Ben all around him and the sound of Meri’s soft keening and the sight of Harry in the candles’ glow, eyes alight in the cleft between Meri’s legs like he’s some creature emerging from the unholy deep.

Ben’s hand is loose and slow around Tom’s cock, then faster and firmer as Meri moans high and breathy and her hips tense upward. Harry sneaks another look at them as she drops her grip on his hair and digs her fingers into Ben’s thigh instead. Tom meets his gaze for a split second, and then Harry’s lips purse around her clit and Tom’s eyes screw shut with the intensity of Ben’s hand working him faster and faster as Meredith crescendos, until Tom’s got no choice but to let go, gasping and straining back against Ben as he spills into Ben’s fist.

He opens his eyes at the motion of Meredith twisting to the side, dislodging Harry. “Stop, stop,” she laughs, breathless, batting at Harry’s head.

Harry props himself on his elbows, chin shiny and hair mussed, an unmistakably smug look on his face. “Too much?” he asks innocently.

Meredith exhales operatically, her hand on her chest. She messes at Harry’s hair. “French girlfriend teach you some new tricks?”

Harry nips at the inside of her thigh. “Every day’s a school day.”

Meri tilts her face upward toward Ben, a sated smile on her face. Ben takes her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. His other hand rests sticky against Tom’s belly. Tom slumps back and tucks his forehead against Ben’s cheek, aligning his breathing to Ben’s, curling into his space. For a moment it feels like just the three of them in this familiar interlude, Tom spent and eager at the same time, savoring the sparks of pleasure still trickling out along his limbs as he anticipates the build to Ben’s orgasm, wondering whether Ben will want his mouth or his hand or his arse.

Only at that does Tom think of Harry. He’s kneeing his way inside the space framed by Tom’s and Ben’s spread legs. Of course Harry can’t go five seconds without someone paying attention to him, Tom thinks, but Ben’s body is warm and solid behind him and he’s too suffused with the syrupy traces of his orgasm for the thought to have any bitterness to it.

Harry pitches forward until his face smears against Tom’s, nosing insistently into the place where Tom’s face is pressed against Ben’s, until Tom’s got to give in to a kiss that feels like biting into a sun-ripened fruit. Harry’s mouth is wet and fragrant with Meredith, the familiar flavour heightened by its transposition onto Harry’s tongue. The taste and the scent light up the remnants of Tom’s overstimulated senses. Amid the sight and sounds of Harry and Meredith, and the feel of Ben’s hands on his body, his mouth’s been underused, seeking.

Harry braces himself against the headboard, caging Tom and Ben between his arms, crowding inward until his legs are tangled with theirs. Tom’s caught, surrounded, his whole body flushing in the heat that radiates off Harry. Ben’s cock is a thick line pressed along the base of his spine, and Ben’s cheek scratches against his as Tom angles his face into Harry’s kiss. He can smell Ben’s shaving cream and taste Meredith on Harry’s tongue, sliding lush against his own. He works his hand into the hot space between their bodies and runs the backs of his fingers along the outline where Harry’s cock strains against his pants.

Harry moans into his mouth and presses impossibly closer. Emboldened, Tom grasps him through the thin fabric and Harry pushes hard into his hand. He’s only just started to trace out Harry’s contours, to think about getting him out of his pants and into his mouth, when Ben’s fingers close around his wrist.

Tom jerks his hand away like a child caught sneaking a biscuit. Ben drops his wrist and pins Tom back against his chest with his forearm. “Not his turn yet,” Ben whispers roughly, whiskers scraping the edge of Tom’s ear. It’s loud enough for Harry to hear even after he sinks back onto his heels with a petulant whimper. Tom’s lips buzz with their interrupted kiss.

Tense and chastened, Tom waits motionlessly for Ben’s direction. Ben keeps him penned in place as he extends his other hand, the one that’s still a mess, past Tom to Harry. The gesture’s halfway between a caution and a benediction: palm facing Harry, fingers splayed upwards. Not until Harry reacts does Tom understand that it’s an invitation.

Harry runs his tongue up the flat of Ben’s palm and mouths into the curve between his thumb and forefinger, letting Ben’s fingers smear his face. Harry’s eyes are trained on Ben’s, wide and dark before they flutter closed. His eyelids glow in the candlelight as his tongue laps slowly up to Ben’s fingertips. Tom reminds himself to breathe. He exhales as slowly and gradually as possible, afraid that any small motion could interrupt Harry’s near-trance.

Ben taps two fingers on Harry’s lower lip, and when Harry’s mouth remains obediently parted, slides them inside. The flickering candles highlight the hollowing of his cheeks as his lips tighten above Ben’s knuckles. Ben starts to draw out his spit-slicked fingers and Harry follows them forward, first with his head and then -- when Ben catches his chin on the heel of his hand -- with his tongue.

“Take it,” Ben directs, low and firm. The command’s not even aimed at Tom, but Tom feels it in his belly all the same. He watches, practically blistering with the dirty heat of it, as Ben fucks his fingers in and out of Harry’s mouth.

Ben’s arm around him gradually slackens as Harry starts to list forward. Tom’s so mesmerized by the slick slide of Ben’s fingers -- his fingers that were just wrapped around Tom’s cock, spattered with Tom’s come -- that it takes him a moment to realize there’s a hand on his upper arm, and then another moment to figure out who it might belong to.

Meredith’s curled on her side next to them, eyes sleepy and the corners of her mouth still tucked up in a small and satisfied smile. She shakes his arm lazily and mouths something that looks like c’mere or over here.

Tom looks back at Harry, chin wet and mouth reddened, reluctant to tear his gaze away. But Ben stretches out his leg to make it easier for Tom to untangle himself from between Ben and Harry, and Tom can take a hint. He extracts himself and stretches out alongside Meri in the small space between her and Ben, wondering what he’s supposed to do now. Meri’s just melted under Harry’s mouth and there’s nothing Tom can do to follow that, even if he wanted to do anything other than devour the sight of Harry crawling tongue-first into the space Tom just vacated.

Meredith kisses the tip of his nose and smiles at him. “Turn over,” she whispers, circling a finger in the air above him to echo the direction. Tom obeys, cooperating with her gentle prodding until he’s on side like she is, facing Ben and Harry. Meredith’s arm draped over his waist is a reminder of Ben’s arm pinning him in place a moment ago. She kisses his shoulder. “Just watch.”

Tom’s nose is inches away from Ben’s thigh, which is still stretched flat along the mattress, leaving nothing in between him and Harry’s profile as he sucks Ben with the same slow reverence he had when tonguing at his hand. Tom’’s never been so close to a blowjob he wasn’t personally involved in. He’s jealous without understanding who he’s jealous of, and turned on without knowing what good it’ll do him. Meredith’s fingers knead absently at his stomach, as if she can feel the heat pooling there.

Ben tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair more roughly than Meredith did, pulling a little. Tom feels Meri suck in a shuddery breath behind him. Ben’s hips twitch to thrust up into Harry’s mouth, and Harry’s lips slide faster and faster along his length. If Tom thinks about it, Harry’s moves are vaguely recognizable from their show-and-tell session the day before. But it’s hard to think about anything amid the immediacy of Harry’s choked sounds of pleasure; his forehead bumping against Ben’s stomach; his head bobbing quicker and quicker until Ben’s fingers tense to hold his head in place as he thrusts into Harry’s mouth one last time.

Harry pulls off slowly, letting Ben slip from his mouth inch by inch. Tom can see the motion of his throat as he swallows, looking expectantly up at Ben on his hands and knees. Tom wants to roll onto his belly as well: I’m here, don’t forget me, tell me what to do. But Meri’s still got her arm  around him, and when he looks up at Ben, Ben’s already focused on him.

“Tom.” He loves the commanding weight of his name in Ben’s mouth, claiming Tom’s attention even though he has it already. “I’d like to see you suck Harry’s cock.”

Tom lets the request ring in his ears, the vibrations traveling quickly and specifically to his dick. Harry makes a low, hungry noise in his throat. He’s already wriggling out of his pants. Tom’s tongue is thick, his mouth suddenly wet.

Meredith mistakes his pause for indecision. “Only if you want to,” she murmurs behind him. “Only if it’s okay.” She strokes her hand along his side.

“I’ll do it.” All the ways he needs to say it pile up on top of each other -- reassuring enough for Meredith, eager enough for Ben, indifferent enough for Harry -- and his assent comes out with more intensity than he meant to give it. He keeps his eyes carefully on Ben. It’s so good, that Ben’s telling him to do this, that Harry doesn’t have to know that he wants to.

Tom expects Harry to fit himself between Ben’s legs, leaning back against Ben’s chest the way Tom would want to if their roles were reversed. Instead, Harry scrambles forward and lands half on top of Tom, his cock dragging fever-hot against Tom’s hip. The crush of his body sharpens Tom’s pulse, sends his blood rioting through his veins with such force that Harry must be able to feel it against his skin. As Harry tries to roll and elbow and kick his way into the narrow space next to Ben, Tom’s first instinct is to fight back, to dig his shoulder in and slide onto his back and claim the territory for his own. It would be better to suck Harry off that way, with Harry’s warm weight pressing him into the close space between Ben and Meri as Harry feeds his cock into Tom’s waiting mouth.

But that’s not what Ben said. Ben wants to see. So Tom pulls himself out from under Harry, sliding down his body, breathing in the clean scent of his skin. Ben and Meredith shift to accommodate them, sorting the tangle of everyone’s legs so that Tom’s between Harry’s. He’s alone on his knees, facing them, separated from Ben and Meri by the bracket of Harry’s thighs. The candles at either side of the bed light Ben and Meredith in profile, leaving Harry shadowed on his back between them. Of course Harry’s wound up right in the center of everything.

Meredith curls in to rest her head on Harry’s shoulder, watching Tom down the length of Harry’s body. Ben smooths a hand over the top of her head, and then over Harry’s. When Tom bends his mouth to Harry, he can feel their eyes on him. He’s conscious of every detail they might see: the fall of his forelock to brush against Harry’s skin, the flex of his shoulders, the hand that he drags down Harry’s stomach to feel his abdominal muscles tense and quiver. As Harry moans with relief, Tom’s skin crawls with the feeling of being watched, a sensation so prickling and strange that it shimmers and warps into a new kind of pleasure.

#french countryside tomrry #probably have repeated a bunch of words sorry #leaning into my gross little boy harry headcanons for this one was a fun challenge

[h4rr3h]

Harry and Evan were as platonic as platonic could be. Living together does that. You see their unlivable quirks; like how they always leave the toilet seat up, or how they never rinse their dishes, or how they never fully close the chip bag so they end up stale. And after six years of living together, Harry and Evan knew each other’s quirks well. The pair were long gone from their college days and fully immersed in the confusing reality of adulthood. Navigating your twenties is hard, but with your best friend by your side, it makes the whole disarray just that much easier. But, Harry has a secret, one that he’s been hiding from his best friend since the day they met, and she’s about to find out. Especially now that Niall spilled about the “Ohio Incident”. A lesson on facing your fears, being too old for college parties, cronuts (are those even still a thing?) and finding things out just a bit too late.

ohio is for lovers, prologue harry styles and the runaway bride

It’s quarter past twelve and everyone is running late. 

Saturday, March 27, 2019

185 Bleecker Street, Apartment 11B, New York, NY

It’s quarter past twelve and everyone is running late.

 “Who the hell in their right mind decides to have a winter wedding outdoors in New York City?” Louis complains, buttoning the sleeves of his white Oxford shirt.

 “The ceremony is outside, it’ll be like twenty minutes and then there’s an open bar inside the reception. Relax.”

 His girlfriend Polly eyes him from the mirror where she’s layering mascara on her lashes. Louis fumbles with the knot on his tie and she groans, closing the tube of makeup and setting it back onto the bathroom vanity. She undoes the tangled knot he’s managed and adjusts it for him, “how do you think Harry’s doing?” She asks.

 “Niall and I were going to stop over before we head to the wedding. Kid needs an intervention,” Louis sighs.

 “I heard my name!” An Irish accent rings in the living room.

 Louis and Polly roll their eyes in unison. They meet with the others, and by others, they mean Niall and his bottle of Smithwick’s because god damnit, just because he’s Irish, does not mean he always has a Guinness in his hand.

 Although there is a six pack in the fridge.

 “So Polls,” Niall inquires, “do you think she’ll really go through with it? Now that she knows everything? I’m surprised we were even still invited to the wedding.”

 Polly shrugs and sits on the arm of the sofa beside him. She takes a lengthy sip of his beer before handing it back, “I think she will. She loves Jake -”

 “She also loves Harry,” Louis interrupts, followed by a swift jab to the ribs by his girlfriend.

 “She loves Jake,” Polly states again, “and yes, she does love Harry but not in the same way he loves her. Maybe if he hadn’t hidden it from her for six fucking years, things would be different but there’s not much we can do about it now, can we?”

 The two boys stay silent, now it’s Louis’ turn to take an unwarranted sip of Niall’s beer.

 Polly glares, fists resting on her hips, “oh please don’t tell me you two are going to ruin my cousin’s wedding all because your friend can’t get over the fact that someone doesn’t like him back.”

 She’s fed up, she’s late, and they must really be getting a move on.

 “We just need ten minutes with him. That’s all. Maybe if he sees her truly happy that will be enough,” Louis negotiates to an annoyed Polly.

 “- truly happy,” Niall snorts under his breath, bemused with himself.

 The other two scowl for a moment and he puts his hands up in surrender.

 “Fine, you only get ten minutes,” Polly cautions, “any longer and I’m leaving. This is supposed to be the happiest day of her life, do not screw it up.”

 Thirty seconds later, the two blue eyed boys are across the hall banging furiously on their best friend’s door.

 “MAAATE!” Louis hollers while his fist slams against apartment 11A’s door.

 There’s rustling on the other side of the door, the shifting of various takeout boxes and empty cans and bottles. The chain lock slides against the plate, the deadbolt clicks in protest.

 “What?” Harry glares through the slight crack he’s made in the doorway.

 Niall and Louis can smell him before they see him. His hair is a mess, and the bulky old man cardigan he’s wearing is stained and wrinkled, his bottom half has only a pair of shorts and fuzzy slippers that look eerily like a pair of Evan’s that she can’t seem to find.

 “Harry,” Louis spoke gingerly, his heart dropping into his stomach and trying to find the right words to say, “you look-”

 “Like shit,” Niall proclaims, shoving past the two of them and pushing the door open to the apartment, “you have got to clean this place up. The neighbors are going to think you’re hiding a corpse in here.”

 Although he’d like to, Harry doesn’t have the strength to raise his middle finger.

 Louis shoots Niall a look but he’s busied kicking around the various takeaway containers scattered about.

 Harry stumbles back to the couch and the other boys follow. He’s not drunk, but acts it. He’s far too drawn into himself lately. He prefers the quiet static of the television, played just loud enough to block out the downstairs neighbors screaming at each other for the twelfth night in a row. He orders takeaway because it was Evan who used to cook and now all the pots and pans go untouched in the cupboards that are empty for the exception of some random leftover spices and a box of macaroni and cheese that even Harry doesn’t have the vitality to make. He gets home from work and eats and watches the telly until he passes out on the couch and wakes up with the morning sun to start the process all over again.

 This was the first time Harry had sat straight up on the sofa in weeks. It made his back feel funny, less tense, he supposed. Louis sits beside him, although careful not to step on the mess of clothing and boxes and whatever else had made it’s way into the living room. Harry hadn’t slept in his own bed since the thunder storm the night after she moved out. There were too many memories of humid summer nights when the fans just weren’t enough and the sticky air stuck to the walls and the sheets. The lightning would blind the night’s streets below their apartment and he’d know it was only a matter of minutes before Evan would quietly tiptoe up the hallway into his bedroom.

 In the nearly two months since she’d been gone, Harry had called out of work four times. The first, was the day after it happened. He’d drank himself half to death the night before and woke up an hour after his first lesson and blamed a family emergency. The second was when he thought he saw her in the grocery store, her honey hair pulled back in a plait in the produce aisle admiring a head of lettuce. But then he remembered she doesn’t like salad, and it was enough to send him back into a tailspin. He’d stayed up all night, staring blankly at the television and trying to think of all the ways he could’ve made her stay. His third call out, when he thought maybe things were getting better, he’d played a gig at the bar with the band and took home a girl who used the same shampoo she did. The fourth one was yesterday, there’s something about a long weekend, the kick start to her wedding weekend. 

 “We um,” Louis struggles to find the right words comfort his lifelong best friend, he’s never seen him this broken. Sure, they’ve seen each other through the melodramas of growing up, but in this moment, no matter how many pep talks and words of advice he’d given his friend in the past, the word clogged in his throat, and nothing came out.

 But that’s why we have Niall.

 “Mate this is just embarrassing,” he muses, “we came here for an intervention. You need to get over Evan. She’s getting married today. Either you go and wedding crash, or you move on. But sitting at home in your boxers feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to make you feel any better.”

 “You don’t know that,” Harry grumbles childishly, folding his arms across his chest.

 “I think what Niall is trying to say,” Louis starts, always the voice of reason, “is to take action, in whatever capacity that is.”

 He looked to Niall for support, he was digging at something under his nails, “oh right, yeah. I mean, here’s how I see it. If I was in your situation, I would go after her, life’s too short to and wait for something to happen. Or you could sit here and die a miserable old bloke. Either way, there’s an open bar at this thing and I’m really fixing to get there. So if you could make up your mind that would be great.”

 Louis mouth parted at the gall of his friend’s words, Niall always had the least eloquent way of laying the truth down into you, whether you were prepared for it or not, “he’s right.”

 “I am?” Niall questions.

 Lou nods, “I say we crash a wedding.”

 The corner of Harry’s lip twitches at the thought, and then he remembers of the look in Evan’s eyes when their world came crashing down and he couldn’t bare the thought of being the cause of her destruction again.

 “Can’t do that to her,” Harry reasons, “I can’t hurt her again. It’s best if I let her be.”

 He leans back against the sofa. He’d thought it so many times, to just let go of her, of the feelings and memories of the last six years and just move on. Accepting a life without her was going to be a hell of a lot easier to handle than a half lived life of always wondering what if.

 “I was kind of hoping you’d want to crash, but alright.” Niall says, discouraged.

 It’s the first time in two months that Harry’s genuinely smiles. He doesn’t feel a lick of change, though. There’s still a sadness that sits like a rock in his chest, weighing him down every day to the point of exhaustion. It’s not a change but a reasoning, he figures, the soft rustle of turning to a new page.

 “Just promise me one thing?” Louis asks and Harry raises an eyebrow, “can you please clean your bloody apartment?”

 Harry stifles a laugh with his hands. It didn’t feel right to laugh, not yet at least. He composed himself in a half breath and Louis nudged him on the shoulder, “you going to be alright?” He whispers lowly.

 Harry nods as his front door slams open.

 “Our ten minutes must be up!” Niall exclaims, standing up from the armchair, “time to find me a wifey.”

 “We have a big problem here,” Polly says, she’s clutching her cell phone to her chest, “Evan didn’t show up at the chapel to get ready, she’s not answering anyone’s calls. No one can find her.”

 Suddenly all three are staring at Harry as if he’s got the answer, “well I sure as shit don’t know where she is!” He defends.

 “But you know her the best out of anyone,” Polly pleads, “just think! Where does she go when she doesn’t want to be found?”

 It’s not an aha moment when Harry thought of the Diner. The conclusion was just as easy as answering to his own name. He didn’t think twice about it, not for a second, “I think I know.”

 Polly sighed, “go find her, please. I need to know she’s alright.”

 “That I can’t promise.”

 Harry thinks of the last time he saw her in that Diner. It was the last time they had an actual conversation, where she made her decision to leave him and move out of the apartment. Even after she knew the whole truth, and everything he’d been hiding from her for the past six years came to light, she left. Harry doesn’t think he could go back there, and if she was there, which he was sure she was, he knows he can’t go and see her.

 “Where is she, Harry?” Polly questions again with desperate eyes.

 “The Diner.” He pips.

 “That grubby old Diner a few blocks over?” Polly bawks.

 “Don’t knock it, that place has excellent chicken kebabs,” Niall quips.

 He’s knocked over by a pillow, courtesy of Lou’s spiral throw.

 Harry buries his face in his hands. What does this mean? He thinks over and over to himself. The room is spinning and he can hear the tapping tones of Polly calling Evan, he’s memorized the touch tones of her phone number. It goes right to voicemail and the sound of her voice makes him queasy.

 “Now it’s not even ringing. She knows we’re looking for her. Sharna is trying to keep everyone calm at the chapel but she doesn’t know how long that’ll last.”

 Polly is on the verge of tears now and Louis does the best to comfort his best friend and his girlfriend.

 “Let’s calm down for a moment, Polls,” he tries to reason, “she’s not hurt or missing. She’s just taking some time to think about things. Cold feet, it happens. I’m sure she’s just fine, wherever she is.”

 Harry finally picks his head up. He pretends to not feel the three sets of eyes burning into him. His heart is racing and it’s the most alive he’s felt in the last two months.

 “So what are you going to do?” Louis asks, the silence in the air stinging everyone’s ears.

 “I’m gonna go find her.”

Ahh so here it is!!!! A day early because honestly I work tomorrow and have to pack for vacation and I just have too much to do but I’ve been so excited to share this with you guys! My plan is to post every two weeks, so I can get back into the swing of writing, and it also allows me to plan ahead and whatnot. 

Please please please let me know what you think. I’m so so rusty on fic writing these days that I’m dying to hear what everyone thinks!!! 

#fic: oifl #yayyyy prologue #i'm so nervous but excited about posting this #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #1dff

[thestargirllll]

Always our Little Star (Eggsy X Reader)

((This is my first Eggsy one shot. I debated on putting it up but I thought “why not?” The story takes place shortly after the events of The Golden Circle and the reader is Whiskey’s younger sibling as well as a Statesman agent. Before becoming an agent, they were highly involved in dancing, possibly wanting to make it their career but their parents are killed, leaving the reader and Whiskey alone which leads them to becoming Statesman later on. Eggsy tries to comfort the reader after the loss of Whiskey and a special necklace during the last mission.))

Enjoy!

You often found yourself reaching for the invisible chain around your neck multiple times throughout the day, only to find a growing pain of disappointment in your chest. The once existing necklace your parents had given you was lost forever. You missed the gentle weight of it as it brought comfort to you throughout your day to day. You would fiddle with the delicate rose gold star that hung at the end of it between your fingertips, feeling every corner leaving indents on your skin…How exactly did this treasured object get lost forever? Well, you could blame your job but really you wanted to put blame on the asshole you fought against on your last mission. You would have much rather had him pull your hair to get you within his grasp than him snagging you from the chain of your necklace and breaking it apart in the process. As much as it shattered your heart to see it fall apart before your eyes, your priority at the moment was to disarm the guy and carry on with the mission. Which is exactly what you did. And of course there is no time to dawdle looking around for a broken necklace when the fate of the world is resting in your hands.

You remember the moment your parents had given you this gift very vividly and often played it over and over in your head…

  It was the night of the last dance recital you ever did before your parents were…well…taken from this world. Your mother was cupping your face, praising you for your performance and your father gently put his hand on her shoulder, initiating her to pull away. “You never disappoint, Honey. We could watch you dance for hours.” His deep southern drawl always comforted you and your mom nodded in agreement to his words. “You’re gonna make it in this business, baby girl, I just know it. That’s why…” She looked over her shoulder at your father and he dug in his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. “We got you this.” You took the box from your father’s hand and slowly opened it and you awed at the star inside. “You’re our little star. Always.” You looked up to their beaming faces and your heart was so full in that moment.

  It was a Sunday afternoon and you found yourself doing a bit of “spring cleaning” around your place. This was your way of dealing with stress sometimes, even when there was nothing to really clean. Losing your necklace sucked, yes. However, losing your older brother in the same day quadrupled your heartbreak. And learning about the shocking fact that he was against the mission all along really tore you up inside. You were always a team. Side by side. More than ever after your parents passed. So to see the hero in your life become the villain in 0.5 seconds flat was the biggest plot twist of your life…And you definitely didn’t blame anyone for his death but himself. However, your new work partner couldn’t help but give you sympathy glances every time he saw you. That partner was Eggsy. Even though you knew damn well the only option in that moment for him and Harry was to kill him. Jack was so damn stubborn and heartbroken from the death of his woman, there would be no changing his mind. They were doing their jobs. And you assured Eggsy of this after the debriefing of the mission when he kept apologizing profusely.

While lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized the burning smell traveling from your kitchen to your room. You rushed over to your oven and was greeted by a cloud of smoke as you angrily snatched the baking tray full of cookies out and plopped them on the stove top. Maybe baking today mixed with cleaning wasn’t your brightest idea. You also hadn’t realized the several missed phone calls on your phone since you were blasting your stereo, filling your place with your favorite Motown and 80’s hits. Out of habit, you expected to see your brother’s name flashed across your screen but instead you saw Eggsy’s…

 He never really calls you that often…

Suddenly your doorbell rang, making you jump. Dammit, Y/N. It’s just the damn doorbell. You went over to the door peephole and caught a glimpse of Eggsy, hands in pockets, swaying softly back and forth awaiting you to open the door. Shit. You walked over to the nearest mirror, studying yourself, fixing the mess that was your hair quickly and exhaled before opening the door. “Hey, Sorry I missed your calls…I was a bit tied up…is everything ok?” You asked as you greeted him. He presented you with a nervous smile, slightly throwing you off guard. “Yeah! Yeah, Just thought I’d check up on ya…I haven’t seen you since…you know…” His eyes began to travel to the floor. “We saved the world?” You finished, even though you know that wasn’t going to be the end of his sentence. “Erm…yeah. That. Are you having a party for one in there?” A small smirk was present on his lips as your music was still on full blast and you felt your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. “Depends on what you describe a ‘party for one’ as.” You joked. He chuckled and you moved to the side. “Did you want to come in…or?”

 Being around Eggsy was something you discovered you enjoyed more of lately. He seemed to pop up more and more in your life after the mission. It was nice how naturally you two had seemed to work together. It was as if you had been fighting along side each other for years. Harry commented on this during the debriefing of the last mission. He stopped you as you were about to leave the conference room, a gentle glint of concern burning in his eyes but he wanted to see if you were ok. “Y/N, excuse me if this comes across as too forward but I have a proposition for you.” You turned to face him, locking eye contact with him. “Yes, Harry?” He swallowed the hesitation in his throat before continuing. “I’ve been thinking…with half our agents gone and the impressive qualities you have as a Statesman agent…I would like to extend an invitation to become a Kingsman.” Your face must’ve portrayed dislike because Harry quickly felt the need to reassure you. “We would give you proper living quarters. You wouldn’t have to face any struggles with residency there. And of course, the job comes with many other benefits.” You still didn’t speak. You didn’t know exactly how to respond. “It was just an invitation. I wouldn’t be extending it if I thought it wasn’t a necessary thing to do. We just like to approach greatness when we see it.” A warm sensation burned in your chest and you felt tears stinging your eyes but you blinked them away. You really did respect Harry. “Harry, I don’t even know what to say…Thank you. But I think its best I stay close to home right now…” He gave you a warm smile followed by a nod. “Of course.” He put a hand on your shoulder, before beginning to walk out of the room. Just as he hit the doorway, he stopped and turned back around. “You and Eggsy work well together…Partnerships like that are a rarity to find now. It reminds me of the partnership that his father and I had…” You sent him a genuine smile. “Take care, Y/N.” “You as well, Harry.”

 “So when are you and Harry leaving?” At this point, you were shamefully scraping your burnt cookies off the baking tray and tossing them in the trash while a slightly amused Eggsy sat at the dining room table, watching you. “Dunno, actually…He says he’s waitin’ on an answer on somethin’.” This struck you a bit odd but you didn’t question it. You didn’t really need to know all the specifics of Kingsman protocols. It wasn’t your business. You finally finished and joined Eggsy at the table, resting your face on the palm of your hand. “I’m usually not this much of a mess, I swear.” He smiled that Eggsy smile that you’ve grown to like. “S’right, luv. I think it’s quite refreshin’ seeing a polished woman be real for once.” You snorted lightly, the warmness burning your cheeks again. “So why are really here?” Your question caught him off guard and suddenly it was his turn to feel the warmness in his face. “Well…I’m not real good at this kinda stuff…but…” He stood up now, digging in his jacket pocket and pulling out a small wrapped box. You could tell he wrapped it himself, as the tape job was a bit messy. The wrapping paper was stripped with silver and white. He hesitated a moment before speaking and handing it over to you. “I hope this isn’t awkward…I just…I just happened to come across it and I felt it was somethin’ you would maybe find helpful? I dunno…maybe you won’t like it but-“

“Eggsy…I haven’t even opened it yet.” You giggled. “Right. Sorry.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets nervously. You never thought you’d receive a gift from him and you couldn’t imagine as to why he felt the need to get you one. You gently tore apart the wrapping and found a velvet jewelry box inside. You were a little nervous now to find what would be in it. You could practically feel Eggsy’s nervousness radiating off of him which was odd for him. He was always confident in everything he did. “You’re not proposing to me are ya,?” You joked, a smile lightly tugging on the corners of your mouth. Eggsy’s cheeks burned a light pink, eyes widening. “Bloody hell, Y/N. No! No, it’s not that, I swear.” You giggled again. “I’m just messing…” You finally opened the box and you felt your heart stop for a few seconds. You stared at the shiny object in front of you for what felt like ages. You didn’t think he had remembered how important this was to you but he did. The rose gold star glimmering in the box may not have been the one your parents gave you but it looked pretty damn close to it. “Wh-Where did you…” You slowly pulled the necklace out and placed it in your hand, feeling the chain dangle from your fingers. “I was out and about the other day and happened to see it in the window of that old jewelry shop down the way from the Statesman Headquarters…and I remembered that story you told me about your parents giving you that necklace you had before…on the night of your last dance recital.” Your eyes were fixated on the star the whole time he spoke. “I also remember why they gave you a “star” out of all things…turn it over…” You furrowed your brows and did what he said and you saw small lettering engraved in the back. At first you couldn’t read it but once you caught the right lighting the words revealed themselves to you.

 Always Our Little Star

You weren’t the crying type, especially in front of people you didn’t feel comfortable crying in front of but in that moment, you felt the tears sting the outer corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry if it’s a bit much, I just thought it would make you happ-“ He was cut off by your body being pressed to his, your arms wrapped around under his arms, holding him in a tight embrace. The side of your face was pressed against his shoulder and you felt the tears finally fall down your face. “Thank you.” You whispered, your voice slightly quivering. You felt him relax and he returned your embrace, moving a hand to lightly stroke your hair. “I’m glad you like it, luv…” Your tears were falling onto the soft material of his jacket and you finally pulled away, wiping them profusely. “Like it? I love it. Eggsy…you didn’t have to…seriously.” He shrugged and made another one of your favorite Eggsy faces. “Who said I had to? I wanted to…You deserve a reason to smile again, yeah?” You smiled at him and it sent a wave of happiness through Eggsy. He couldn’t quite place this feeling exactly but it felt right to him. Seeing you smile in that moment was like winning the gold. And he desired to make you smile again just to see it over and over again. You fiddled with the necklace to clip it around your neck when he walked up to you, reaching a hand. “Allow me.” You stopped and handed it over and you turned around, holding your hair up, exposing your neck to him. You felt him put the necklace around you and secure it in place and you let your hair fall back down. You looked down at the twinkling star now hanging from your neck and you felt yourself beaming. Eggsy had brought your parents back to you.

“You know I do quite like this song…” You stopped and remembered your music was still playing softly in the background. The Spinners “Could it Be I’m Falling in Love” was playing. “I’m glad you approve of my setlist.” You joked. He smiled and nodded, his shoulders starting to move to the tune. “I know I don’t hold a candle to your skills but…may I have this dance?” You chuckled, shaking your head in embarrassment but you took his hand and he pulled you to him. You two began slow dancing in a circle, moving along to the slow ballad. Eggsy of course tried making you laugh as he would twirl you and dramatically dip you. You haven’t had a genuine laugh in days and it felt good. The sound of your laughter warmed Eggsy so much, he didn’t think he’d ever tire of it. After witnessing seeing the heavy dread hiding behind the steady front you had going on, he couldn’t help but try and bring back some sort of light in you. Mostly because he knew what that dread felt like. He felt it when his father passed and he felt it again when he thought he lost Harry. And dammit, he just couldn’t help that he thought your smile was beautiful.

 “What?” You asked him. He was staring at your face for quite sometime and it wasn’t until you said something that he realized it. “Oh…nothin’. I’m just thinkin’.” You pursed your lips. “About?” He bit his lip, shaking his head. “It’s a secret.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Sorry, Luv. You know how the spy thing goes. If I told ya…I’d have to kill ya…” You rolled your eyes. “You’re not fooling anyone, Ghalahad.” He smirked at you calling him this and he gave you one of his signature winks. And it was in that moment, you realized something…

You were falling for Eggsy Unwin.

And you were becoming very sad at the thought of seeing him go back to London with Harry…and not knowing when you’d see him again. The thought pained you more than you cared to admit to yourself. You were enjoying every single minute of this moment and longed to have many more just like these. You also suddenly realized maybe your home wasn’t “home” anymore…Maybe a fresh start was something you desperately needed. And then it dawned on you…

You knew exactly the answer Harry was waiting on…

A flash of excitement sparked through you and you finally spoke. “Eggsy, I need to talk to Harry.” He stopped mid dance and frowned. “For what?” You smiled and pulled away from him, grabbing his arm and pulling him along towards the door. “I have to give him the answer he’s waiting for.”

#eggsy unwin #eggsy x reader #i'm still new at this #but i'm kinda satisfied with it? #eggsy #fluff #eggsy imagine

[misssophiachase]

VALENTINE'S DAY MINIPROMPT!!! Box of Enchanted Chocolates gone wrong (Canon-ish?? Harry potter au?? the possibilities are endless!!)

Soooo late, sorry Angie. This kind of stumped me (in a good way, I love thought provoking prompts) but hope this kind of lives up to your expectations even if it did go a little differently.

Hot Chocolate

“I believe in miracles, you sexy thing..”

Klaus was the King of this town, undeterred by anyone beneath his station. It wasn’t his responsibility to pretend he cared for them and as Valentine’s Day approached he knew this year would be no different.

Of course his sister Rebekah would try to set him up with the latest and attractive arrival in town. Kol would suggest some fun picking up lonely hearts in Jackson Square after their dates abandoned them unceremoniously and Elijah would retreat into his office but not before scoffing about the whole ‘Hallmark Holiday’ spectacle as he liked to call it. 

Klaus preferred to spend his Valentine’s Day alone, walking through the French Quarter and admiring his handy work. Sad, yes, but all he cared about was total domination of New Orleans and nothing would stand in his way. 

He found himself walking along Royal Street, stopping momentarily to look into the window of the small French bistro he frequented. She sat there alone, her golden waves fanning her face, her tantalising, red lipstick and the black dress seemingly painted onto her body, it was that fitted. He faltered. Klaus liked to pretend he didn’t have needs but seeing her sitting there so perfectly was causing more than a few feelings to stir below. 

He debated about stopping, Klaus didn’t like weaknesses and this woman in the window was a distraction of the highest order. But he stilled, desperate to see what she’d do next. She sighed and for some reason he felt something entirely foreign. Empathy. If he could get his hands on the stupid imbecile who stood her up on Valentine’s Day, Klaus was fairly certain he’d be dust by now. 

He moved inside without much cohesive thought, bypassing the waiter and finding his way to her table, she looked upwards her blue eyes glancing at him wearingly. “I said the cheque can wait.”

“You think I’m a waiter,” he expressed. “Ouch, love.”

“Well if the suit fits,” she scoffed, gesturing to his ensemble. That was the last time he wore that particular black and white combination. “Who are you?” He was taken back, mainly because everyone knew who Klaus Mikaelson was, obviously she was new to town. 

“The person saving you from eating alone.”

“Does that line really work?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” Her newbie status, not to mention her brazen nature, was confirmed then and there. 

“Let me guess, stood up?” She glared at him, her eyes narrowing in his direction. 

“Says the guy turning up at my dinner table unannounced, talk about preying on vulnerable females on Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m not preying on anyone,” Klaus baulked. He didn’t care for love or people in general and apparently the first time he decided to intervene he was the subject of a lecture. 

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Apparently I’m a glutton for punishment.” 

“What every girl wants to hear, especially on Valentine’s Day.” She drawled, crossing her legs and leaning in closer, her perfume infiltrating his nostrils. “I’m going to need some tequila if I have to deal with my supposed date and your interruption.”

Klaus didn’t speak, mainly because his throat was becoming increasingly dry from her close proximity, so he gestured to the waiter who was carrying something over. 

“I have a delivery from a Mister…” the blonde didn’t wait just snatched the box of heart shaped chocolates from his grasp before shooing him away after demanding an unending supply of tequila to their table.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered. “Apparently chocolates are supposed to make up for being a no show? Seriously. What does he think, I’m five years-old?” 

“Well, if I can offer my thoughts on the matter…”

“No thoughts, in fact no speaking. You are my drinking partner, nothing else,” she reprimanded him, grabbing the shot glasses from the tray and downing the first in one go. Klaus didn’t feel the need to argue with a woman scorned so took the glass offered and unwittingly joined the pity party.

Twelve hours later 

Klaus awoke slowly, his eyes adjusting to the light and attempting to try to block it out by turning over. He felt a tight tug on his wrists and ankles in the process. Further inspection revealed he was tied to the bed, the enticing blonde straddling him possessively as she placed kisses along the length of his bare chest. 

“Enchanted chocolates, really?” He groaned, trying to ignore just how good she felt grinding against his arousal in nothing but brief, black lingerie. 

“You said you wanted to try something new,” she teased, her tongue now coming to life and flicking over his left nipple slowly. “And after that performance, I think it was definitely worth it.”

“You realise if this town knew I was chained up to your bed and at your mercy I might lose my royal credibility?” 

“Especially if these photos get out,” she chuckled, pulling her polaroid camera from the bedside table and taking another picture. 

“Are you blackmailing me, love?” 

“I’m thinking about it,” she smiled deviously, her attention now back on him, feathering kisses along his collarbone and causing a shiver to take over his body. 

“Any chance we could just be an actual couple without the secrecy,” he murmured, trying to ignore just how good her mouth felt against his skin. 

“Where would the fun in that be?” She mumbled against his skin as she travelled north and captured his crimson lips with hers. Their tongues tousled, Klaus ready for round seven or whatever it was given he’d lost count but reluctantly puling away.

“I love you.” She was shocked, extracting herself from his embrace immediately. He was worried he’d scared her away. 

“No, you don’t,” she mumbled, standing up and beginning to pace the room furiously. “We’re having fun, that’s all.”

“Maybe you are but I fell in love with you the first time we met,” he replied sincerely, briefly wondering just how pathetic his confession would look tied up to her bed.  

“And you took this long to tell me,” she cried, finally stopping to throw a barrage of cushions at him. 

“Now, I know why,” he groaned from beneath the cushions. “Last time I checked you wanted to keep things casual.”

“Because I thought that’s what you wanted,” she shot back, pulling off the cushions one by one.

“All I want is you to be my Queen forever.”

“Are you proposing?” She squealed excitedly. Klaus smiled, glad they were finally on the same page.

“In my current state,” he growled, gesturing to his position. “Hell no. If my siblings got wind of this they’d never let me forget it, not to mention the whole city.”

“Lucky I love you then,” she smirked, untying him slowly. By all reports Klaus Mikaelson proposed over a candlelight dinner at the Four Seasons Rooftop Bar at sunset. In actual fact they ravaged each other senseless before he placed the ring on her finger lying content and naked in each other’s arms. 

#hot chocolate #klaroline drabbles #misssophiachase #thetourguidebarbie #hope this is what you had in mind #great prompt

[maraudersmessrs]

Remus Lupin and the Prisoner of Azkaban---Chapter 2: Diagon Alley, Memory Lane

Ao3 link

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21 / Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29 / Chapter 30 / Chapter 31 / Chapter 32 / Chapter 33 / Chapter 34

It had taken a while–hours before he was able to wrestle his shaking, nauseating dread back into it’s chains, but excitement had taken its first tentative wing-beats against his heart. Glee, even. He had been given a fairly substantial stipend with which to supply his class, which he carefully ordered down next to his growing list of creatures to explore and spells to teach. He was going to need supplies. He was going to need books for research.

He was going to be a Professor.

Whenever this thought ambled amiably across his thoughts, the empty feeling from the news about Sirius was lit with a warm glow deep in his chest. It was pride and fear and anticipation and joy all muddled up together. He, Remus John Lupin, was going to help people. He was going to have a job and a home. He was going to have a purpose. A purpose that Albus Dumbledore obviously thought he was capable of taking on, which made him swell a little more. After the conversation had sunken in, Remus had gone to the nearest craft store and bought gold lettering. He spent half an hour applying it painstakingly to his suitcase, propped on the windowsill with the best lighting and checking with his wand to make sure it was straight, standing in the sun.

Stretching his back and his wrists, he attempted to keep from smiling like some sort of child at the holidays as he surveyed his work. Professor R. J. Lupin. He had used his own money, and had had to make the decision between the letters for his full first name or his title, but the shining gold had seemed too much like a promise to let himself forget. So he had chosen Professor, almost as if the spelling of it was like a charm, to make it absolutely and immutably true. Professor.

He was starting to get the wrenching twinges in his gut, the ache in his bones that signaled the growing of the moon, but even that did little to dim this light that had been ignited in his chest. Hogwarts would come after; there was now something to look forward to. Unfortunately, it made it hard to eat–food started smelling wrong and tasting worse. There had been dark hints in his research long ago that raw meat might help but he stoutly refused; he was not an animal. They had told him. He was not an animal. So, with optimism slightly bolstered, he got himself some slightly greasy take-out, managed to force it down and set about writing letters, requesting recommendations for his curriculum. It was an agreeable way to spend the afternoon, sitting on the floor with his knees propped up, the only sounds were the low murmuring of a television somewhere, the gurgle-clunk of the pipes, and the scratching of his quill. Luckily for him, most of the other tenants were out working or doing whatever else they might do, so it was quiet. He migrated across the room to follow the splotch of sun let in his windows, scooting every few minutes to stay in it’s light.

Until his stomach gave a violent lurch that had him scattering parchment and dashing for the bathroom, where he lost his wrestling match with lunch. It was significantly worse the second time around. He rinsed his mouth, washed his face. Methodically, he collected every page with slightly trembling hands and set back to work, resolute. This needed to be done sooner rather than later, and he would have to write the curriculum while he was convalescing after this month’s Change, for soon, money would be too tight to even get take out, let alone keep his flat. The job hunt needed to be started soon, after he had been sacked from his last one as a late night grocery store clerk. There had been several bad months in a row where he couldn’t make it to work for at least 3 days after the full moon and after the 2nd time, they had just gotten fed up and let him go. He supposed it was better than being publicly fired for showing up looking like he was in a secret fight club after his Changes, like the last job before this.

After the 5th letter, his hand was cramping and the bone-deep ache was getting worse, with a rising restlessness he was all too well acquainted with. Sighing defeat, he rose, rolled his neck and dressed for bed.

The next day, he finished, gathered, folded and sealed all the letters–Muggle paper and envelopes as parchment and wax seals were out of his budget at the moment. He tucked them neatly into his inner cloak pocket and set to donning the robes he’d set out to air soon after Dumbledore had left. It had been a long time since he had had to move seamlessly through a Wizarding space and when he straightened his cuffs and set all his clasps to rights, he felt a little taller. A little less invisible. The comforting weight at his wrists, down his back, swinging against his legs seemed to trigger some sense memory in him as he Apparated into Diagon Alley. 

It was as though he was arriving as he was now along with his echoes through time; as he had been all through his school years and even before, when he had visited with his Father when he was just a lad. The cheerful chatter, the bubbling, sparkling, cracking, fizzing, furling signs and banners to catch the eye. The mournful hoots and yowling of cats from the menagerie and the wafting scent of fried meat and candied nuts wove in and out of crowd-packed streets that were a riot of robes of jewel tones and pastels. For a man who had been living along for a little more than a decade, the clamoring cheer of it stunned him momentarily and it was all he could do to just marvel with the eyes of his childhood self. This was magic. This was belonging.

How many times had he walked these streets, a quarter of a group, goggling in windows and laughing too loud? How many times had they strolled as if they ruled these cobblestone streets by the right of their brash adolescence? Not enough, a soft voice tolled in the back of his mind and he forcefully derailed that train of thought with a shove. He would not do this in the middle of the street.

Purposefully, he strode off toward the Post Office, quirking a small smile at anyone who met his eye. A small boy wove in between his legs and a harried looking short man barreled after him with a muttered apology. He saw the alley where the Marauder’s had–no, not now. A group of young foreign witches were debating loudly in another language–Romanian?–under the technicolored umbrella of Florence Fortescue’s ice cream parlor, gesturing animatedly at a map before them on the table. Roughly 5 goblins stalked past him, ignoring all else as they headed straight for the mouth of Knockturn Alley. Truly, if he felt like people watching, this was obviously the place to be. But, for today, he was armed with a budget and a purpose; the education of young people, and he refused to take that lightly.

He spent a good hour running errands after he had mailed the letters out, feeling strange not needing to send them off at separate times to stagger his spending. Rarely had he had this much leisure money in the past, certainly not enough to rent 8 separate first class owls to send his mail. Though, come to think of it, he had not had anything that urgent to say to anyone, lately.. Most of the day had been ordering in supplies rather than gathering them, but he had spent so much time talking, walking, and exploring, he felt as if he had been here several days already. The ache had migrated to his thigh bones and his lungs seemed unsure what shape they were going to take today–2 more days until the full moon. He would have to take it easy tomorrow or he would be unable to leave bed for a week after the Change as he no longer had the wonderful medical, magical aid of Poppy Pomfrey to patch him up quick and send him on his way.

Remus brightened at this thought. Luckily, he soon would. It would be wonderful to catch up with her again, once he was back–back– again, after the summer. Only 2 more moons, as luck would have it. With this happy thought, he allowed himself to settle in the shade of one of the loudly decorated umbrellas in front of the ice cream shop to stretch his legs out before him. A man with the most enormous moustache and pipe he had ever seen was rising from the table next to him, leaving behind a haphazard stack of the Daily Prophet, dated to only a few days ago. A movement caught his eye from the front page and the contented bliss he had managed to cultivate disappeared in a rush of cold.His stomach clenched roughly at the thought, but he needed to know…needed to see….”Ah, sir? Might I…?” he gestured to the paper.

The man gave an uninterested shrug. “Eh, take ‘em; they’re days old, anyhow.”

Remus thanked him and gathered them carefully, meticulously tapping them into place, lining up the corners and smoothing it out until he could no longer pretend he wasn’t stalling. Deep breath. He looked down and before he could stop it, a soft, strangled noise managed to escape him.

My God.

#nooot a lot of talking this chapter he's mostly going to be alone at the beginning #again trying to just write and write and write so sorry for typos! #remus lupin #my stuff #ficlet #i gotta change that tag #nanowrimo #Remus lupin and the prisoner of Azkaban

[terpsichoreed]

Tl;dr party success! (Rambles)

Company holiday party was off the chain this year. Better than last year, which was hard to beat.

I got my hair did at the local place and wore my fancy heels so I looked like a sophisticated prom queen. Granger Danger'd everyone into next week and I showed up for work Monday in the frumpiest thing I own to prove I *can* put in effort into my appearance but I choose not to except for one day out of the year.

There was a dinner and then a speech made by Golf Dad. He kept the mic too far from his mouth and kinda droned a little bit. Went through company process and thanking each department and person for their contributions to that step of the process. I was even mentioned by name. He said I do a little bit of everything to help out. For Golf Dad's standards, the speech was really sentimental and heartfelt (not so much for the normal population). At work Monday he was nervous that he messed it up and I told him he did fine. That's the closest he gets to "bonding" and I am greatful he confided in me.

I didn't win any of the big $$ prizes but they did have door prizes (company travel mug, company USB stick, and chocolate bars).

The DJ pretty much played slow songs only when he had to or I needed a break and he could tell. The first three songs of the night were obligatory for the old married couples so they could dance and the leave. Later on there were some requests made for slow dances. Tall coworker and I even did a waltz to one of the slow songs because we were so bored waiting for something up tempo to come on. He left early because he had another event to get to, so that left me to mingle and socialize during those songs. Mingling and socializing are only before and during dinner, not after. Ugh.

One of the people I work under was lit and had endless praise for the work I do for them. I was so surprised to be recognized but wish it wasn't because of alcohol influence.

Tall coworker taught me more ballroom dances and we put everyone to shame (I know swing which is similar to whatever four-count step he was doing. All the upper body and moves were the same). I was not at all getting the three-step count, though I think this was because we were trying to do it in four... Switch to four and this Clutzilla became a graceful ballerina.

Harry and Marino were wallflowers. I tried to get them out on the floor but nothing came of it. I tried to get Harry to dance by threatening to dab rhythmically at him; obviously he wasn't very threatened. He never danced other than Cupid Shuffle where Brent physically pulled him onto the dance floor.

After like 90 minutes of dancing I had to put on my flats and by then most of the people had left.

The DJ made up the Molly challenge: play every song that has a line dance and when Moll doesn't know it or has to sit down and rest then she loses. I won it and had to teach the other dancers. Brent's wife Ronda was also playing but she kept throwing me freebies like "nobody knows this Mr. DJ, skip to the next one." Chad's wife Christine was out on the floor too. Though it was mostly me and Ronda and Michael's wife. One of the husbands farted on the dance floor, tried to blame me, and then blamed all women collectively and said "what are you women good for if all you do is get together and fart at the same time?!"

The party was set to end at midnight. About quarter to 12, a bunch of drunk girls crash the party and take over the dance floor. There were only ten of us left (we had 60+ attendees) so it wasn't a big deal. Brent thought I was ticked at them when really I was tired. And of course yesterday he made a joke that I got myself a girlfriend. I mean the drunk girl group leader did sort of almost grind on me but I was into it. A few of the guys might think I'm gay. GOOD.

Tl;dr I am always down for a free dance party and free cheesecake. The conversations I had were great and everyone had a good time. And I wasn't a bright shade of red the whole time.

#personal #dancing

[torentialtribute]

The race for the Champions League: Who will make it into Europe’s elite next season?

Tottenham's crushing defeat at Chelsea on Wednesday night now just two teams left in the running Premier League title.

Liverpool and Manchester City have pulled clear of the chasing pack battle to secure Champions League football is just as tense.

Spurs, Arsenal Manchester United and Chelsea are separated by just seven points they look to join Europe's elite next season. Here, Sportsmail assesses all four team's chances of clinching those remaining two places inside the top four.

     Spurs, Arsenal, Manchester United and Chelsea could all finish in the top four this season

                   Tottenham

Form: Most fans would have thought Harry Kane's return to action the title for Spurs. It has not been canceled with Mauricio Pochettino's side losing at both Burnley and Chelsea to leave their title chances in tatters.

Spurs had won four league games in a row without their leading marksman and they will be hopeful they can stop the slide sooner than later.

Squad depth: This is potentially the area that could cost Spurs the most. Without Kane, Son Heung-min stepped up and scored in three games in a row but there was always a sense that he could not maintain that level of form.

Dele Alli has an unfamiliar fit squad at present but star man and that is cause for concern

     Harry Kane's return from injury has prompted two defeats for his side in the last seven days

     Mauricio Pochettino's side lost at Burnley and Chelsea to leave their title chances in tatters

Distractions: Spurs were knocked out of the FA Cup by Crystal Palace in round four that leaves them fighting on two fronts. They have an impressive three-goal lead over Borussia Dortmund in their Champions League last-16 tie and look through the quarter-finals with the return pen for five.

Remaining fixtures: A game Spurs would not fancy after two straight defeats is Arsenal but a north London is what awaits them on Saturday lunchtime. They also face dawning trips to both Liverpool and Manchester City and host Everton on the final day of the season

SPURS 'REMAINING FIXTURES

March 2 – Arsenal (H)

March 9 – Southampton (A)

March 31 – Liverpool (A)

April 7 – Brighton (H)

April 13 – Huddersfield (H)

April 20 – Manchester City (A)

April 27 – West Ham (H)

May 4 – Bournemouth (A)

May 12 – Everton (H)

TBC – Crystal Palace (H)

Arsenal

Form: Since losing at West Ham at the start of the year, Arsenal's form has been rather impressive. In their last five games they have recorded four wins and one defeat – a 3-1 loss at Manchester City.

Unai Emery's side climbed into fourth place with a 5-1 thrashing or Bournemouth on Wednesday and that comes after routine wins over Southampton and Huddersfield.

Squad depth: The Gunners are pretty much free from Hector Bellerin and Danny Welbeck, who will both miss the rest of the season. They have two world class strikers at Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang and Alexandre Lacazette and a good supply chain at Henrikh Mkhitaryan, Alex Iwobi and Mesut Ozil

January signing Denis Suarez is true to his true colors while Aaron Ramsey didn 't just get off the bench on Wednesday with Lucas Torreira and Matteo Guendouzi impressing in midfield.

     Unai Emery's side climbed into fourth with a 5-1 thrashing or Bournemouth on Wednesday

     Unai Emery [19099000]

Arsenal and Chelsea have a lifeline for Champions League football in the world form the Europe League and both are serious contenders. The Gunners have a favourable draw in the last-16 against French side Rennes and Emery has won three times at Sevilla

Remaining fixtures: If Arsenal can get through their next two games are unscathed then there is definitely cause for optimism. They face the game on Saturday before hosting United on March 10. Every game is winnable after that with Wolves and Everton the most challenging games left.

ARSENAL'S REMAINING FIXTURES

March 2 – Tottenham (A)

March 10 – Manchester United (H)

April 1 – Newcastle (H)

April 7 – Everton (A)

April 15 – Watford (A)

April 20 – Crystal Palace (H)

April 29 – Leicester (A)

May 4 – Brighton (H)

May 12 – Burnley (A)

TBC – Wolves (A)

Manchester United

Form: United's win over Crystal Palace ensured the Red Devils claimed a club record eighth consecutive win away from home and extended their unbeaten league run under Ole Gunnar Solskjaer to 11 games

They are the team's in-form league, having dropped points against Burnley and Liverpool in the league since the Norwegian's arrival in December.

Squad depth: United were missing eight first-team players at Selhurst Park but still managed to win, showing the strength in their squad.

Jesse Lingard, Other Herrera, Juan Mata, Anthony Martial, Nemanja Matic, Phil Jones, Antonio Valencia and Matteo Darmian all missed the trip to Southampton.

     Wednesday's win extended their unbeaten league run under Ole Gunnar Solskjaer to 11 games

     United were missing eight first-team players at Selhurst Park but still managed to win

Distractions: United States of America Champions League after Paris Saint-Germain scored two unanswered away goals in the first leg of their last-16 tie. They are in the quarter-finals of the FA Cup and Welsh at Wembley semi-final.

Remaining fixtures: United probably have the toughest run of fixtures between the top four rivals. They've still got three 'top six' teams left to play and travel to both Wolves and Everton.

UNITED'S REMAINING FIXTURES

March 2 – Southampton (H)

March 10 – Arsenal (A)

March 30 – Watford (H)

April 2 – Wolves (A)

April 13 – West Ham (H)

April 21 – Everton (A)

April 24 – Manchester City (H)

April 28 – Chelsea (H)

May 4 – Huddersfield (A)

May 12 – Cardiff (H)

Chelsea

Form: Inconsistent form left Maurizio Sarri on the brink of the sack but a morale-boosting 2-0 win over Spurs on Wednesday looks to have brought the Italian some time. The Blues were thrashed 6-0 by City and 4-0 by Bournemouth earlier this year and also lost at Arsenal.

Squad depth: Sarri has a lot of talent at his disposal but it seems that Napoli boss has opted for 14 players. Jorginho and N'Golo Kante are guaranteed midfield starters with Mateo Kovacic and Ross Barkley rotating for the other place

     Chelsea claimed a much-needed 2-0 win over bitter rivals Tottenham at Stamford Bridge

     Inconsistent form has left Maurizio Sarri on the brink of the sack but it seems safe for now

Distractions: Similarly to Arsenal, Chelsea have a real opportunity to get into the Champions League through this season's Europa League. After cruising, Malmo will fit in the last-32, […]

Remaining fixtures: Chelsea have to go to both Liverpool and Manchester United, two games that could have a major influence in the Champions League football. They do have a game in hand on their rivals, but Eden Hazard and Co wants to take maximum points from games against weaker opposition.

CHELSEA'S REMAINING FIXTURES

March 3 – Fulham (A)

March 10 – Wolves (H)

March 17 – Everton (A)

March 31 – Cardiff (A)

April 8 – West Ham (H)

April 14 – Liverpool (A)

April 22 – Burnley (H)

April 28 – Manchester United (A)

May 4 – Watford (H)

May 12 – Leicester (A)

TBC – Brighton (H)

[1945901] 6]

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#The race for the Champions League: Who will make it into Europe’s elite next season?"

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Monday 2 September 1991 - by Alinda

Monday 2 September 1991

Dear mom and dad,

Hogwarts is not as nice as I thought it would be. I’m sitting now in my bed and wished I was back in my cupboard. At least there I was left alone. Dudley had been afraid to be in the same room as me and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia acted like I wasn’t even there. But it was better than this.

I had been so excited to go here. I don’t know why I thought everything would be better when I would be around other wizards, that I would be able to make some friends. Well, I think I made one friend at least, even though I haven’t seen him since the sorting ceremony. I met him after Uncle Vernon had left me at the train station. I didn’t know how to get onto platform nine and three-quarters and I was afraid to be stranded there. And then I saw some people that looked like they were also going to Hogwarts, with trunks and an owl. They helped me get onto the platform. I had to run at the barrier and I really thought I was going to crash into it. But the crash never came and when I opened my eyes I was at a platform next to a scarlet steam engine. Two of the boys from that family, Fred and George helped me get my trunk on the train. And when the train was on his way, Ron, their younger brother came to sit with me in my compartment. He has a lot of brothers and he’s afraid he won’t do as good as his brothers. I’m sure he will. One of his brothers works with dragons in Romania and his other brother is in Africa. Oh, and he has a rat, named Scabbers. That reminds me, I’ve named my owl Hedwig. I hope you like the name. I think it suits her.

During the train ride, I bought a lot of candy from the trolley witch. I know I had said I wouldn’t spend all your money on useless things, but I was very hungry and I wanted to try out all the new strange candies. I shared my candy with Ron. He only had corned beef sandwiches and he doesn’t like corned beef. I liked the chocolate frogs the best, one they are chocolate and two they have cards of famous wizards. I now have cards of Albus Dumbledore, Morgana, Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, Merlin and Druidess Cliodna. I think I’m going to try to collect a lot of them. They will be able to keep me company when I feel alone.

The nasty boy from the robe shop came by in the train. He asked me if I was Harry Potter and was mean to my new friend Ron. He said I shouldn’t make the wrong sort of friends. I wasn’t very nice to him and I now wish I had been. I didn’t want to shake his hands and be friends with him. But now he and his friends make fun of me all the time. Everyone looks up to him down here. But he said mean things about Ron and Hagrid. Even about you. I hate him. I wish I’ve never met him.

After the train ride, all the first years took boats to Hogwarts. And then it was time for the sorting ceremony. All the new students had to try on an old hat to be sorted in one of the houses. I was afraid I won’t be sorted in any of the houses and would get sent back home. And maybe that had been better then what really happened. When my name was called the entire hall started to whisper. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on my head. The hat was black inside. The hat started speaking. He found me very difficult. He had to think of where he should put me since I had courage, not a bad mind and talent, but most importantly a thirst to prove myself. I was afraid to say anything and just waited until the hat would put me out of my misery. He continued, saying I could be great, that it was all in my head and that Slytherin will help me on my way to greatness. And with that, the hat shouted SLYTHERIN.

I took off the hat and walked towards the Slytherin table with shaking legs. Draco Malfoy, the nasty boy is in Slytherin. Most people at the Slytherin table were clapping, but Malfoy just looked at me with a piercing look. I set down next to Theo Nott, who was also sorted in Slytherin. Malfoy said I better start behaving like a real Slytherin if I wanted to survive my first year.

Ron was sorted in Gryffindor and he looked happy to be there. I wish I was sorted into Gryffindor as well, at least then I would have had one friend in the dormitory. Now the only person that even says hi to me is Zabini.

The dinner after the sorting didn’t go well. All the dishes got filled with all kinds of food, like roast beef, roast chicken, sausages, bacon, potatoes, peas, and gravy. I was hungry so I tried to fill my plate with a bit of everything, only to have Nott grabbing the things off my plate and putting it on his own. Malfoy was laughing, just like Crabbe and Goyle. When Nott’s plate was full he finally let me keep some of my own food. I eat it as quickly as possible before they would take my food again.

One of the girls that were also sorted into our house stated that I was only a half-blood and therefore not a real Slytherin. It was then that a ghost sat down next to Malfoy. The boy didn’t seem to like it and it made me smile a little. Malfoy saw that and he kicked me under the table. The ghost is the bloody baron. He’s our house ghost. He said it was a good thing I was in Slytherin, that with the famous Harry Potter it was a given that we would win the house cup for the next seven years. Everyone around me started laughing and Malfoy stated that it was more likely that I would make them lose the cup because I wasn’t made to be a Slytherin.

Oh, I also need to tell you about the strange thing that happened when I was looking at the teacher's table. Professor Quirrell was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin. When that teacher looked into my eyes, a sharp, hot pain shot across my scar. I couldn’t help to respond to the pain and clapped my hand against my head. Of course, that was just another thing Malfoy made fun off. He said: ‘Your little scar hurting you, potty?’ I just looked at the table and tried not to cry. Why do they have to be so mean to me?

After dinner one of the prefects led us to the dungeon, where at the bare stretch of the wall a doorway appears when you speak the password. Inside is the Slytherin common room. The room is long and has rough stone walls. Round, greenish lamps hang on chains. It’s furnished with lots of low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas, skulls and dark wood cupboards. On the walls are tapestries with wizards on it. One side of the common room has windows so we can look into the lake. It’s a bit weird to stay underground like this.

The prefect gave us some simple rules, like that only Slytherins, are allowed to go into the common room and that boys and girls are not allowed to go to each other’s dormitories. I share my dormitory with Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Goyle and Crabbe. There are no windows in the dormitory and the place is lilted by a green light hanging from the ceiling. The beds are four-posters hung with Slytherin green velvet curtains. Our trunks had already been brought up and placed by the separate beds. Mine is straight across of Malfoy’s bed. I had to wait until all the other boys were done in the bathrooms before I could go to brush my teeth. They didn’t want me in there with them. Zabini gave me an apologetic look when Malfoy forbade me to follow him. After I brushed my teeth in silence I quickly put on my pyjamas and went to bed. I closed the curtains and tried not to think of how mean the boys were being to me.

During the night I had a very strange dream. I was wearing Professor Quirrell’s turban. And the turban kept talking to me, telling me that I should be happy that I’m in Slytherin, that it was my destiny. I told the turban I didn’t want to be in Slytherin, that I wanted to transfer to Gryffindor. I tried to pull the turban off my head because it was becoming heavier and heavier, but it tightened painfully. And then Malfoy was there, laughing and pointing at me. After a while, Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher. He laughed also, with a high and cold laugh. Next, there was a burst of green light and I woke up sweating and shaking. I hope none of the other boys knows that I had a nightmare and won’t make fun of me for trashing in my bed.

This morning I sat by myself for breakfast before my classmates came down to the great hall. Afterwards, I tried to find my way to our first lesson. Everyone was whispering around me and trying to get a look at me. I don’t like it at all. It’s very annoying. It’s hard enough to find my way around the castle. There are so many staircases, tricky doors and fake doors. And I think they move around, just like the people in the portraits.

My first class was potions from Professor Snape. He’s our head of house, but I don’t think he likes me very much. I think he hates me, just like all the other Slytherins. When he took the roll call he made fun of me. Off course that made Malfoy and his friends snigger behind their hands. He asked me questions about mixing ingredients and where I could find a bezoar. I didn’t know the answers. He kept saying fame isn’t everything. Me not knowing made Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott laugh out loud in class. And there was a Gryffindor girl that kept raising her hand, making Ron roll his eyes at me. Snape took points from Slytherin because I didn’t know the answer, and later he took points because me potion wasn’t good enough. Not as much as he took from the Gryffindor’s, he seems to hate them more than he hates me.

But me losing points didn’t go well with my Slytherin classmates. They shoved me into the wall when we were walking to our next class. Malfoy said that he would hex me in my sleep if I manage to lose even more points for our house.

Next, we had Defence Against the Dark Arts. I had really been looking forward to this class, but the lesson was a bit of a joke. The classroom smelled strongly of garlic and Professor Quirrell didn’t really tell anything interesting. The only good thing about the lesson was that nobody paid attention to me.

For charms, we have professor Flitwick. He’s a tiny little wizard who stands on a pile of books to see over his desk. When he reached my name during roll call he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. Malfoy and his friends laughed and made jokes about me wooing the teachers. I really hate Malfoy, I really hate him. I don’t understand why he needs to be so mean to me. It’s not like I ever did anything to him.

The last lesson of today was History of Magic. It’s being taught by a ghost, Professor Binns. He drones on and on and it’s difficult to keep all the names in order. I think it will be easier to learn it all by reading the book.

After the lessons, I went to the library to start on my homework. But Malfoy and his bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle had followed me. Crabbe stole my bag and turned it around, so all the books fell out. And then Malfoy said that this is just the beginning. They left after that and I had to pick up all my stuff. One of my quills got broken and my Standard Book of Spells is damage from the fall from my bag. I’m glad they left, so I could finish my homework in peace.

Dinner was just as bad as the first night. Crabbe and Goyle sat down on both sides of me and kept stealing my food. I hardly eat anything because of them. And now I’m on my bed, writing to you. I went straight here after dinner. I don’t want to hang out in the common room. I’m afraid of what they will do next. So maybe you can understand why I don’t like it here at Hogwarts. Learning magic is great, but the teasing and bullying are worse than it was with Dudley back home.

I’ll write you again soon, and hopefully, things will be better than.

Love Harry James Potter

(find the entire story at https://archiveofourown.org/works/15351042/chapters/35620452)

#Harry Potter #harry in slytherin #fanfic #bullied harry #letters #Draco Malfoy #drarry #AlindasStories

[savefarris124-blog]

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

Words To Live By: “Do more of what makes you happy.”—a ceramic owl I received during a Secret Santa gift exchange.

Owls are wise, and the purple ceramic one given to me by my former assistant manager Paula was especially so. Yet I have a bad habit of taking on too many things all at once, usually in an effort not to disappoint people. This leads to stress because I feel my time is not my own. To decompress I will then take on a side project I enjoy for the hell of it. Ultimately I end up doing everything half-assed and balls drop. So this holiday season I’m changing some things around, including doing less of what makes me unhappy and more of what makes me actually happy.

I really had to think about this. As I get older the highs are less high. Last week my friends and I went to Harry Potter night at Lifted Spirits Distillery, and one thought stuck with me in the days to come—if I had to face a Dementor right now what sort of memories could I call on to summon a Patronus? So much of life seems bittersweet to me, but dwelling on that never did any good. Instead I want to take a moment to acknowledge the things that send pure jolts of unadulterated joy through my body.

I thought this would make a great subject for a blog post. After all people love it when Oprah talks about her favorite things, and Oprah and I are practically the same person. This entry also works on another level. Christmas is coming, and soon after that comes my birthday. Now really, you don’t have to get me a gift. I’m not expecting any gifts. No gifts please. However if you do insist on a gift I have hidden ideas throughout these entries. See if you can spot them!

1) Comedians and Their Audiobooks

Let’s be real; I will never meet my idols. I could pack my things, sell my house, and move to L.A., but I’m quite sure there is a person in Hollywood paid to misdirect wide-eyed rubes like me if we ever get within 50 feet of a celebrity. Probably the mayor or something.

Alas, there will be no brunch dates with Mindy Kaling, no hilarious text chains with Amy Poehler, and Tina Fey will never want to hear about how I took a screenwriting class in college that was mainly devoted to just watching 30 Rock and learning how to be funny. I mean, even if she did by any chance care about that, there is no way she would be interested in the fact that our final assignment was to write a 30 Rock spec script, and mine had a great plot about how Jenna gets a new boyfriend who is just dating her for her fame, how Liz worries about Jenna’s eventual reaction to this news, and how everything turns out okay in the end because once Jenna discovers the truth she is flattered that someone would think she is famous enough to use for status. And surely Tina Fey wouldn’t care that I probably still have a copy of this script of stashed away someplace and I would consider it a privilege to tear through all my belongings until I could find it for her, would she? WOULD SHE?

Where was I? Ah yes, audiobooks. So much better than regular books. I like to listen to them while driving because one day I realized I didn’t recognize half the songs playing on the radio. Now after two years of listening to thoughtful, inspiring books on my commutes I can proudly say I know zero songs on the radio.

I like memoirs by funny people because the comedians read their own works, so it’s almost the same thing as having them in my car. Currently I’m listening to My Squirrel Days by Ellie Kemper aka Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt aka my spirit animal. Ellie has a way of infusing low-stakes situations with such high amounts of drama so everyday life turns into a picture of pure absurdity. Her personality comes across so genuinely sweet and down-to-earth that you can almost forget that her family built Kemper Arena, meaning she grew up with enough money to try and fail at pretty much anything and still turn out just fine. That was a compliment Ellie; please be my best friend.

2) My Old 90s Christmas Tape

It’s true that the holidays burn me out. I still have slight PTSD from working retail, so whenever the halls get decked and the carols start playing I always look out of the corner of my eye for the person about to yell at me for ruining Christmas. I have morphed into Charlie Brown at the beginning of A Charlie Brown Christmas except it takes more than 30 minutes to solve my problems and my therapist insists on charging more than 5 cents.

There is only one part of the holiday season that brings unquestioned joy, and that is the totally awesome Christmas Tape my mom made for me as a child. Remember the days before streaming when if you wanted to watch something you either had to watch it live or pray Blockbuster had it in stock? Well my mother never let “the man” at Big TV dictate her viewing habits. She let a screaming 6-year-old who wanted to watch Christmas cartoons in July do that for her, thank you very much.

Yes, my awesome mom recorded over 6 hours of your favorite holiday specials onto VHS. You want A Charlie Brown Christmas? We’ve got that, plus the lesser known It’s Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown which comes first on the tape because we don’t care about things like “chronological order” and maybe also because the classic one aired later in the month. From Frosty the Snowman to Inspector Gadget Save Christmas to Winnie-the-Pooh and Christmas Too this tape is made of nothing but pure nostalgia, and my only complaint is that we couldn’t fit even more holiday specials on it. Specials like A Miser Brothers’ Christmas or the epic Pac-Man: Christmas Comes to Pac-Land.

I could end on that heavy hint, but I need to say something more about this tape. Yes I love the specials, but what takes this tape from “nice gesture” to “prized possession that must be saved in case of fire” are the commercials. 90s advertising at its absolute finest. For instance:

This Cool Whip classic that wants you to believe non-dairy whipped topping is the new ranch dressing: 

The toy I’m still waiting for Santa to bring me:

Watch advertisers show that the quality of the product doesn’t matter if you can blatantly market it to children:

And finally I present Macauley Culkin’s entire reality falling apart: 

3) Raw Cookie Dough

Look, I know all about the CDC’s warnings against eating raw cookie dough. The flour could be contaminated with E.coli, the eggs could be festering with salmonella, and spending 12-15 minutes in the oven infuses the dough with enough magic power to grant a wish. Well guess what? I don’t care! That fudge I made for Hanukkah called for uncooked flour, raw eggs gave Rocky the physical edge needed to lose his big fight against Apollo Creed, and I just made that last one up. Remember folks, you can’t believe everything you read on the internet.

Still, because I occasionally listen to medical advice and am also too lazy to whip up batches of cookie dough on a whim, I sometimes like to indulge myself with a treat from The Cookie Dough Café. This wonderful company knows that I demand my vanilla butter sugar in its purest form, and is proud to offer a product both delicious and healthy. I mean it totally counts as a health food if I’m avoiding the CDC death ingredients, right? Right.

4) Sunny Days

I won’t knock the gym. I joined Planet Fitness last year and from then until now I lost 25 lbs. Not a staggering amount over the course of a year, but it does mean that for the first time in a decade I weigh less than what I put on my driver’s license. I don’t mean to humble brag here. I mean to brag brag.

I couldn’t have done that without a place to workout in the wintertime. That being said you will never, ever, ever convince me that a workout in the gym is even a quarter as good as a walk outside. A walk outside offers you sunshine and fresh air. The gym offers you harsh fluorescent lighting and the lingering stench of recycled body odor.

Outside my house there is a walking trail. Sometimes I pass deer grazing and I slowly, slowly creep toward them, pretending that I myself possess the gentle grace of a forest creature. “I am Snow White,” I tell myself. “If life gets too scary I will face it with a smile and song, and the sun will shine down on me and all of my new animal friends that will help me clean my house.”

Inside the gym I pass neon painted elliptical gliders that loudly beep at me if my heart rate falls outside selected parameters. Ke$ha blares from an overhead sound system, and my attempts to drown her out by streaming Disney music are all for naught.

Belle sings, “Little town, it’s a quiet village.”

Ke$ha screams, “He’s going down! I’m yelling timber!”

Belle coos, “Every day like the one before.”

“You better move! You better dance!”

Belle continues, undeterred, “Little town filled with little people, waking up to say…”

“SWING YO’ BUTT ROUND AND ROUND! END OF THE NIGHT IT’S GOING DOWN!”

Belle gives up, and we both grab some of that edible cookie dough to ease our disappointment.

My roundabout point here is that the gym sucks, and half of my time spent writing is an excuse not to go there. Also if someone wants to buy me a trip to Disney World right about now, I won’t say no.

#blog #gifts #books #90s #christmas #words to live by

[junker-town]

THIS WEEK IN SCHADENFREUDE, Texas is just hopping mad

Texas leads a wide-ranging tour of the angry college football internet after Week 9.

Welcome back to THIS WEEK IN SCHADENFREUDE, your weekly rocket ship ride through the most infuriated regions of the college football galaxy. Last week, this page focused exclusively on Ohio State, because that was the only logical choice. This week, we’re taking a journey around a small handful of furious fanbases on the internet.

Texas lost to Oklahoma State, knocking the Longhorns out of the top 10.

Though they remain in the thick of a chaotic Big 12 race, it’s a disappointing moment for Tom Herman’s bunch. Said one Longhorn fan afterward:

I don’t want to watch football anymore

That was the title of a message board thread. This was the profound body:

.

And there you have it.

A former Texas linebacker got into a fast-escalating online beef with a current Texas cornerback, who’d been suspended for the first quarter.

Ex-Horn Emmanuel Acho initially defended the suspended Kris Boyd, because Texas sitting down a starting cornerback had the side effect of helping OSU get lots of yards:

I understand all the, “teach your players a lesson” tweets, but YALL understand, if Saban benched players everytime they violated team or American laws, Bama might not have a single national title.

— Emmanuel Acho (@thEMANacho) October 28, 2018

But then Acho — who’s now an ESPN analyst — got rougher.

Bruh, you can’t be late to meetings THEN come out here and get mossed. Your team needs you. #Texas #OkState

— Emmanuel Acho (@thEMANacho) October 28, 2018

And then he used the “trash” word ...

I can’t watch this dude play defense anymore. It’s actually trash. If you know. You know. #Texas

— Emmanuel Acho (@thEMANacho) October 28, 2018

... and said he wasn’t talking specifically about Boyd, but, uh:

Naw I feel u, and I didn’t say I was talking about Kris, I would never put nobody on front street like that... but anybody who feels that tweet applies to them should probably step up. I played hella trash games in my day lol. U grow and move on u feel me

— Emmanuel Acho (@thEMANacho) October 28, 2018

How’d Boyd respond? Aggressively.

Boyd going straight after Acho on Instagram. Smart. pic.twitter.com/0LuqqMGzl4

— Burnt Orange Nation (@BON_SBNation) October 28, 2018

Fortunately for Boyd, INSTAGRAM ASSAULT is not a violation of team rules.

One fan had a spicy take about what should be done to the game’s officiating crew: They should all be handed over to the mob.

Refs are screwing us again

The offsides on that 4th down was f%<*¥ing criminal. Somebody send the mafia to threaten the refs to pay these dickheads back for 2015.

Texas fans were livid at the officiating in 2015’s OSU-UT game, when a few apparent officiating errors went against the Horns. Every other Big 12 fan in the universe thought it was deeply ironic to see Texas fans upset about refs.

(Texas actually had a legit beef about that offside call, yeah. Oklahoma State sent a bunch of guys in a “motion” that looked a lot like emulating live play, and refs didn’t call a false start, but instead penalized the Horns for jumping off. The Horns also probably got away with a penalty in their end zone later in the game. Either way, Sicilian crime families must get involved.)

This Horns fan was MAD and only got MADDER when nobody wanted to join in being EXTREMELY MAD.

User TexasHorn started this thread on the team’s 247Sports message board before Texas’ body was even cold, while it was still the second half:

A COMPLETE JOKE

Dan Neil, we have our answer, NO, Texas is not mature enough to handle success

Being destroyed on national television - not sure if the Horns can recover before next week because wvu has a better team than osu

Nobody responded, so they added:

Sorry for being honest - where am I wrong guys, seriously?

Any one thrilled with this performance?

Still, nobody responded, so they added again:

Explain the off sides guys - want to argue the complete joke comment?

So tired or posting without any response - gutless!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Finally, someone replied:

We’re playing scared like a bunch of pussies. Coaches and players.

Persistence always pays off.

THIS WEEK IN SCHADENFREUDE is usually about fans, but Tom Herman is now the second head coach to make an appearance, thanks to the end of the game.

This is the sort of sprinting velocity that can only be generated by pure anger.

Recap of Tom Herman & Mike Gundy in the late scrap, their postgame handshake and Gundy's interview explanation pic.twitter.com/CMzJpKwzpw

— CJ Fogler (@cjzer0) October 28, 2018

(Herman and Mike Gundy are fine.)

Herman joins Jeremy Pruitt, who kicked a whiteboard and was thus included by rule:

Hey Knoxville... how's it going? #UFvsUT pic.twitter.com/HxplOn0uRQ

— Mike Gillespie (@MikeABCColumbia) September 23, 2018

Washington lost to Cal as a disappointing season became a total failure.

The Huskies are not even making a New Year’s Six bowl in Jake Browning’s senior year, two years after getting to the Playoff with him as a sophomore.

In some corners of the web, faith’s running short in Chris Petersen.

At HardcoreHusky.com, someone started a thread: People you have more faith in than CP, reflecting the fanbase’s growing impatience with Petersen, whose job titles are head coach, Guy Who Won a Million Games at Boise State, and Guy Who Got Washington to the College Football Playoff.

This was the only thing there:

Photo by Stephen Chernin/Getty Images

This was another fan’s measured response:

FUCK THSI PROGRUM IM FUCKING OUT

WE SUCK SND SHOULDNT LOSE TO CAL. WE ARE A LOSER PROGRUM. UPPER CAMPUS DGAF ABOUT WINNING. FIRE PEENERMAN. END TNIS FUCKING TEAM.I WANT DONG JAMES BACK. I WANT TO FUCKING WIN. NO JUAN IN THIS FANBASE HAS DTANDARS EXCEPT FOR THOS SITE. YOU GUYS GET ITZ PETERMAM DOES NOT. FUCK EVERYTHING.

Someone urged this poster to say calm:

Stay positive! Fuck Petersen!

But this blunt response to the loss pretty much summed it up:

We lost to cal

Lol I’m done. Fuck Husky football. Fuck Petersen. Fuck Browning. Fuck Haener. Fuck everything. Roll tide.

Maybe that sounds harsh, but UW fans have wanted Bama since early in 2016:

Settle down, Washington pic.twitter.com/4lnFCfcJ4i

— College Football by SB Nation (@SBNationCFB) September 3, 2016

Miami lost to Boston College, which means it’s time to look at how Hurricanes fans responded to the team’s official Twitter account in real time.

When Miami loses, checking Twitter’s important, because Canes fans are always the most direct in college football. The classic of this genre:

I’m gonna jump off a building

— Heat 3x (@Jbazo5D) September 3, 2018

As Boston College put a thumping on the Canes, fans responded well. Just follow along with various score updates and quarter breaks.

1. After the first Boston College score:

Already with the bs

— Howard Webster (@TbearCane17) October 26, 2018

2. After, um, a Miami score:

Right...embarrassing.

— Carlos Marante (@ItsACanesThing5) October 27, 2018

3. After another BC score:

Is this a retweet?

— Tucker McFall (@RealTuckMcFall) October 26, 2018

4. End of the first quarter!

pic.twitter.com/UqrP2scamn

— Brandon English (@BEnglish007) October 26, 2018

5. After some ostensibly good news?

Way to look at the bright side.

— Brandon English (@BEnglish007) October 27, 2018

6. After an actual good play:

Throw the ball in front of the receiver and it could've been 6

— Christopher Gray (@Barclayallday26) October 27, 2018

7. After a touchdown by Miami:

How on Gods green earth do you have a -5 yard punt return, inside the 10-yard line, with not one but TWO blocks in the back on the return? That's piss poor

— Tucker McFall (@RealTuckMcFall) October 27, 2018

8. After a defensive stop by Miami:

We must be trying to run the clock out....ridiculous

— umcane (@umcane26) October 27, 2018

9. Halftime!

Yes a dogfight with BC! Proud day for the Canes.

— Bryant Jensen (@Bjensen630) October 27, 2018

10. After another good play by Miami’s defense:

BC knows our QB can’t hit the side of a barn further than ten yards so they playing up on the line

— solidlifefitness (@solidlifefitnes) October 27, 2018

11. A little later:

This guy is worse than Jacory Harris

— The Bad Hombre (@jbjammin34) October 27, 2018

12. Things getting desperate:

Get Jimmy Johnson out of retirement

— John Bennett (@DirtyBirdz19) October 27, 2018

13. The Turnover Chain is out! This is good for Miami!

This is the most remedial offense I've ever seen

— The Bad Hombre (@jbjammin34) October 27, 2018

14. End of the third quarter!

Social Media dude.. let Coach know Malik ain't it. Thanks boss.

— Joey Inza (@JoeyInza) October 27, 2018

15. Game over.

Joke.

— Nick Alvarez (@NicksTake22) October 27, 2018

I’ve said it before, but Miami fans are the overprotective relative who will roast you all day but threaten to burn down the house of anyone else who criticizes you.

I respect and fear them in equal measure.

Ultimately, it was best to just step away.

recap, 3 stars, good, bad, and ugly up on https://t.co/W9gmsOyW7d i have nothing else to say. i'm going to play #RDR2 bye.

— StateOfTheU.com (@TheStateOfTheU) October 27, 2018

Florida lost to Georgia, ending the Gators’ dreams of winning the SEC East.

Gators fans were actually pretty reasonable about it. I don’t have jokes. I’m just making the note here so that you know I was as disappointed to learn this as you were. I checked.

In all kinds of weather, y'all, and go Gators pic.twitter.com/jTaaNcXnvS

— BUM CHILLUPS (@edsbs) October 27, 2018

And TCU lost to Kansas, thus earning automatic inclusion as the last team on this list.

Things are dark in Fort Worth.

Is this how Baylor Feels?

For the first time I am embarrassed to wear my TCU gear in public.

The last spot in this list is now just tradition, devoted to any team that might lose to Kansas in a given week.

In Week 3, a Rutgers fan asked after losing to KU: “What stage of grief are you in?”

They have grinded me down into not caring about college football at all just like the Knicks and the Mets have done in basketball and baseball respectively. In a way it’s good. I can enjoy my kids without having to give a hoot about the scores on Saturdays.

Before that, in Week 2, a fan of the MAC’s Central Michigan wrote this:

Fire Bonamego

I know I’ll hear a lot of the usual “it’s too soon in the season” and “MAC play hasn’t even started”, but I’ve been a die-hard supporter of the football program and I EXPECT us to compete against the power teams every year. There’s no reason that we can’t be like Boise State or better. We need to strive to be better and we shouldn’t settle for mediocracy.

Again, that was a MAC fan distraught about losing to a Big 12 team.

Congrats to the Horned Frogs and their fans on joining this prestigious club.