#i went to a painting thing today at the library near me and i was painting on two little pots and i took home some veggies to put in them

[sinnamon-wade]

anyone know if there is like somewhere that’s compiled references of the details from totk?? like on zonai things, stuff on the sky islands or like the decals on the totk oled switch?

stuff like this v

#he speaks #totk #tears of the kingdom #i haven’t finished the game i’m still having fun exploring #so no spoilers please #but i was thinking about it #and i couldn’t find much on my own #but then again i was having trouble finding the right words to look up #i know there’s an art book for the game but i don’t think it’s out or something #i went to a painting thing today at the library near me and i was painting on two little pots and i took home some veggies to put in them

[strvngeweather]

It's All Greek to Me; a one shot.

🕮 PAIRING: collegetutor!jimin x partygirl!reader 🕮 GENRE: College AU, smut 🕮 WORD COUNT: 4.8k 🕮 WARNINGS: Smut, Smut, Smut 🕮 SUMMARY: After failing your college classes, you need a tutor. But if tutor, why so damn hot? 🕮 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally going to be a full-length fanfic, but I decided to make it a short one. I still may expand on it. Let me know what you guys think. Also, my bestie gave me the idea when she said, "Jimin look like he likes ass." LMAO.

Despite your hatred for hangovers, you always ended up with one.

Today was no exception. As the resident party girl at Loren University, there was no way you would ever miss a weekend rager, but as your alarm clock went off for the fifth time that morning, you began cursing at yourself. Maybe going to a party on a Sunday night wasn’t a good idea.

Scheduling a tutoring session at eight in the morning was an even worse idea.

You had many strong suits, but English wasn’t one of them. It was the one subject you had struggled with since you were in high school. Analyzing the words of dead white men from centuries ago was just about as much fun as watching paint dry. Numbers were much more your thing. They were easy and in the words of Cady Heron, ‘Math was the same in every language.’

But you needed to pass. It’s not as if you were here on your parents’ dime like the other kids. You were a scholarship kid and if your grades slipped, so did you. Out the doors and on your ass. So, when you got your last paper back with a big fat ‘D’ written on it, you knew it was time to take action. And that meant getting a tutor.

You just happened to forget that today, on this bright and early morning, with a pounding headache and dry mouth, you were supposed to be meeting him.

Again, you ask, who the fuck schedules a tutoring session at eight in the morning?

With a groan, you grab your phone, hoping to hit the ‘snooze’ button on your alarm one more time before you really had to get up but when your eyes read the time you realize that it’s damn near eight-thirty. How many times have you hit the snooze button? You wonder but realize you’re only wasting more time. Without a second thought, you hop out of bed and into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and running a comb through your curly hair. Your make-up is smudged, and you still have on the shimmering dress from last night but there’s nothing you can do about it now. You grab a hoodie off your desk chair and hightail it to the school’s library.

.

Inside study room 007, you find a very annoyed, albeit very handsome senior waiting at the table. Laid out in front of him are a stack of books, notebooks, and flash cards. Pens and pencils are lined up neatly in a row. He all but glares at you as enter. Before you can speak, he glances at his watch and then looks back at you. “You’re late.”

“I know,” you say, out of breath. “I got caught up …” you scramble, trying to think of a lie instead of admitting you had spent the night throwing ass to Megan thee Stallion and Cardi B but your folder of excuses in the very back of your brain shows up empty. That might be for the best, you realize as you look over your tutor.

“Partying?” He finishes the sentence for you. His eyes rake over you in judgment. “Maybe that’s why you’re failing English.”

Now wait a damn minute. You scoff, crossing your arms. Your brain is foggy, you desperately need a glass of water – and, not to mention, your skin feels beyond icky. The last thing you can do right now is come up with a proper comeback so the only thing you manage to utter is, “Or maybe English is just hard.”

“You speak it every day, how hard could it be?”

“Whatever,” you say, sitting down across from him.  “Can we just … start?”

Jimin checks his watch again. “We might as well. We’ve got thirty minutes left. Let’s make the most of it.”

“I thought I had you for an hour.”

“Yes, and you were late so that hour has turned into thirty minutes. I’ve got things to do, Ms. L/N. I can’t wait around for you all day,” he replies, picking up a black ballpoint pen. “Let’s get started.”

“I’d much prefer it if you called me, Y/N,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “And you’re Jimin, correct?”

He nods curtly. “Alright, Ms. L/N, your form said you have an upcoming paper that focuses on the themes from Nella Larsen’s Passing. What part of the story are you at?”

You roll your eyes but choose not to correct him about your name and instead just answer his question. “I’m not on any part.”

His eyes brighten. “You mean you’ve already finished? Well, great, let’s jump right into discussion –”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not on any part because I haven’t started the book.”

Jimin looks at you as if you grew another head. “Your essay for the book is due next week. The book is less than two hundred pages. What do you mean you haven’t started yet?”

You shrug. “I figured since it’s such a short book I could probably finish it and write the essay in the same day.”

“And what day were you planning on doing that since our study session is right now?”

That day was last night but as you both knew you had gotten caught up with … other things. “I guess I figured we’d start the book together and I’d just get the essay done next week.”

Jimin sighs. “Ms. L/N, whatever you manage to vomit onto paper will not bring your grade up in the slightest if you follow your method. I guarantee that.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes – again. “That’s what you’re here for. You’re my tutor so tutor me in the right direction.” Jimin studies you for a moment and then he begins carefully putting his things away into his messenger bag.  “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Ms. L/N, you can reach out to me once you’ve read the book but until then, we have nothing to discuss. I only meet with students who are serious about their education,” he places his bag over his shoulder and nods toward you. “Have a good day.”

“Um, hello! You can’t just leave,” you say, getting out of your chair.

“I can and I am,” Jimin replies, and with that, he walks out of the study room. You begin to follow him but decide against it. What good would that do? He was rude and had judged you from the moment you walked in the door. You didn’t need a tutor like that.

You decided you were going to go to the campus café, buy a large coffee, and then go home to take a much-needed shower.

. . . .

“He was a jerk,” you tell your best friend, Winter, taking a long sip of your mango-pineapple smoothie. “He left right in the middle of our session.”

Every Tuesday was the same. A morning class and then a lunch date with your bestie, Winter, at your favorite smoothie place about twenty minutes away from campus.

She shakes her head but not at him. “Y/N, I love you, but you were late. You didn’t read the material, and you had the nerve to have an attitude. I would have walked out on you too.”

Harsh but it was the truth. You weren’t quite ready to admit that you were somewhat at fault too. “Okay, but I’m saying, he didn’t have to be rude about it though.”

“What’d he look like?”

“He would be fine as hell if he wasn’t so rude,” you answer honestly.

She shakes her head, amused. “What did you end up getting on your essay anyway?”

After the last encounter with Jimin, you decided you’d find another tutor, but in the meantime, you were going to stick with your tried and true. You did exactly what you had told Jimin you would do. You read most of the book in one evening and managed to type up a paper in the same night, confident that you had aced it. But when you looked online, checking your grade, you realized Jimin had been right. Regardless, you weren’t going back to him.

You sigh. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Winter replies. “Because if Jimin is right, then I think you should give him a call.”

“Jimin Parker?”

You and Winter look up to see Jennie Kim hovering above you. Her freshly dyed blonde hair cascaded in waves down her slender face. You may have been the resident party girl, but Jen was the resident party queen.

“Hey Jen,” you say, motioning for her to take a seat. “Yeah, Jimin Parker. You know him?”

She sits between you and Winter. “You mean that gorgeous senior? Ugh, I had him as a tutor last semester.”

“How’d he do?” Winter says, giving you a knowing look.

You lean forward. Jennie was known for many things but having good grades was not one of them. In fact, you wondered how she managed to make it this far without being kicked out. But, if Jimin could manage to get her grades up, then he truly was a miracle worker.

“Amazing,” Jen gushes. “I got an A on my last three papers. I wanted him again this semester but apparently, he’s all booked up.”

You groan as Winter gives you another look. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and dial Jimin. “Hello?” You reply as he answers. “Hi, yeah, Jimin, it’s Y/N. I was wondering if we could set up a session …”

…

For his sake (and mostly yours) you schedule an afternoon session and this time, you show up prepared. When he arrives, he’s shocked to see you already in the study room.

“Good afternoon,” he says, rounding the table to sit across from you. You get a whiff of his cedarwood cologne. “I see you’re on time.”

“I’m early,” you correct him. “You’re on time.”

“That I am,” he says, taking a seat. You watch him closely as he carefully takes out various pens and pencils, notebooks, and flashcards. He really is handsome, you think, even if he is an ass. “I see we’re studying Oedipus Rex by Sophocles?”

You nod your head. “I read it. I don’t understand it.”

“What exactly don’t you understand?”

“Not a single word in that book. They might as well be speaking Greek.”

He sighs. “Well, it is a Greek book.”

“Clearly,” you reply. “So where do we start?”

“I guess at the beginning.”

. . . .

Things were going smoothly. You found yourself actually understanding the material and surprisingly, enjoying it. But you also found yourself getting lost in Jimin at times. The more time you spent with him, the more you developed a crush. Your mind would wander as your eyes looked over him. You wondered how soft his full lips were. You wondered what his eyes looked like in moments of passion. You wondered how good it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms.

Your eyes were on his arms when he called your name. “Huh?”

“I asked did you want to go over the scene between Antigone and Polynices again?”

You shake your head. “No, I think I understand. Antigone wants him to call off the war, but Polynices’ pride won’t let him.”

“Correct,” Jimin replies with a smile.

Fuck, you think. Jimin had a smile that would make anyone melt. “Jimin,” you begin and mentally kick yourself for what you’re about to ask but you’ve started so you might as well finish. You put on your best flirtatious smile. “What do I get if I ace my next paper?”

He seems to know what you’re hinting at. “You get an A and the satisfaction of knowing your hard work paid off.”

Well, if that wasn’t a blaring rejection, you don’t know what is. “Do you have a girlfriend?” You blurt it out before your brain can even process whether the question was appropriate or not.

He blinks, slightly taken aback. “Yes, yes, I do. Why?”

You shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible even though you feel as if you’ve just gotten stung by a million honeybees. “No reason. You just seem so into your academics; I didn’t think you had time for that kind of stuff.”

“Well, a human being still needs a social life to thrive,” he replies coolly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You nod. “Yes, and his name is Jose Cuervo.”

He laughs. “I’m sure you have a line of men knocking on your door.”

“Nobody I want though,” you say, mostly to yourself.

. . . .

If crushing on him wasn’t enough, now you were dreaming about him. A week of erotic dreams plagued you. They felt so real. You could smell his signature cologne as he pushed in and out of you, your legs on his shoulders and his arms wrapped around your thick thighs. Each dream ended the same though, just as he was about to finish, your alarm would wake you up and you would spend a good five minutes finishing yourself off before getting ready for the day.

Instead of a study room at the library, Jimin asked you to meet him at his apartment for the study session. He mentioned something about time constraints, appointments, and being unable to book a study room but your brain had been stuck on, “Wanna meet me at my apartment? We can have a quick recap sesh before I have to run out?” He could barely finish his question before you agreed to it.

So, sue you for being curious.

It’s not like anything will happen, you thought as you parked, he has a girlfriend.  You arrived twenty minutes early. Your excitement had gotten the best of you and you knew how much Jimin liked it when you were on time. When you knocked on the door, a man almost as handsome as Jimin answered.

“You must be Y/N?” he asked, sticking out his hand. “I’m Taehyung.”

You nodded, the thought of becoming a Wattpad heroine and having two incredibly attractive men fight over you danced around in your head. You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

As he let you in, he explained he had somewhere to be, but that Jimin was in his room and to head right in. You gave the door a light knock but didn’t receive an answer. The door was slightly ajar, giving you the smallest view of a very neat bedroom. You spotted Jimin at his desk, looking at something on his large computer monitor. It looked familiar. Your curiosity ate at you, forcing your hand to ever-so-gently open the door further. This time you could see what Jimin was looking at clearly.

It was you. It was your Instagram feed. He was scrolling through your pictures, pausing at every photo that was a bit risqué.

“Fuck, Y/N …”

That was your name. Leaving his lips. In a moan. Your heart fluttered with excitement. But wait, was he …

As you tilt your head to get a better view, you can see the tip of his elbow on the armrest, bobbing up and down. And up and down. And up and down.

Oh, he definitely was.

You slap a hand over your mouth and tiptoe back to the living room. A few minutes later, you hear a shower turn on and ten minutes after that, you see Jimin emerge in a navy blue V-neck and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Hey,” Jimin looks at you with a face full of guilt. You can’t help but smile. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago,” you lie, looking up from your phone that you were pretending to be engrossed in. “I haven’t been waiting long.”

“Good, good,” he says. “Let’s go to the kitchen. The lighting is better in there.”

. . . .

After three weeks of hard work and several study sessions, you submit your paper with all the confidence of Scott Disick. Winter, the best friend that she is, decided that this was the best time to reward your good behavior with a couple of jello shots at your favorite bar. You gobble up the first two and then decide to sip on a blue Long Island iced tea. That’s when you spot him. Sitting in a corner, next to his roommate and another man with tattoos up and down his arms. Instead of his usual tweed blazer and grey slacks, his outfit looks more modern, more casual. A white graphic tee hugs his toned body, and you can’t help but eye his biceps. His cheeks are slightly red, his eyes are glossy and he’s laughing harder than you’ve ever seen him laugh. He looks delicious but you turn around and decide to order another shot from the bar.

You spot Winter getting her mack on with a fellow classmate, Karina, and it’s then you realize that you’re probably going to be alone for the rest of the night. Just as you begin to grab your wallet to pay your tab, a familiar figure approaches you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he’s wearing a smile you’ve never seen before, and it makes your insides flutter.

“I could say the same thing,” you reply. “I never thought I’d see Jimin Park in a bar.”

“I don’t spend all my time in the library,” Jimin says.

“Could have fooled me,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. “What brings you out among people?”

He orders a whiskey sour before turning to you. “I, Y/N L/N, am finally a single man. My girlfriend of two years has decided that she no longer wants me.”

He’s smiling but you can see sadness behind his glossy eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly. “Her loss.”

“Oh definitely,” he says with a slight slur. “You want to know the real reason she broke up with me?”

You shrug. “Lay it on me.”

He leans in close, so close his body is pressed up against yours. He angles his lips to your ear and whispers, “I was too much for her.”

“Oh …”

“Yeah,” his words spill out in a rush, his eyes darkening as they take you in. They pause at your mini-skirt before crawling up your body slowly. You suddenly feel exposed, as if he just completely undressed you, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t love it. His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “You don’t seem like that though.”

“Seem like that?”

“Like I’d be too much for you.”

“In what way?” You ask, genuinely curious.

He leans toward you, his lips brushing past your ear, forcing every hair on the back of your neck to stand up. “Sexual. You look like a good girl who knows how to take a pounding.”

A million thoughts ran through your head as Jimin broke out into a sardonic laugh. You were called back to that time you caught him masturbating to your pictures. You began to wonder if the prim and proper Jimin was just a façade to hide the sexual deviant he really was. His eyes look over you in a way they never have, and you swore they were clouded with lust. He licks his full lips, and you want nothing more than to kiss them, but you don’t. Instead, you take a step back and laugh, motioning to his roommate. Jimin was drunk and even though it looked like he wanted to bend you over the bar and give it to you, you knew better than to take advantage of a drunk man.

….

A week later, when you enter the study room, the moment you and Jimin exchange glances, you feel awkward. He looks embarrassed as he gestures for you to sit down.

“We need to talk,” he says. “I want to apologize about the other night at the bar.”

“It’s okay, I barely even gave it a second thought,” you lie. You had thought about that moment ever since it happened.

“No, it was inappropriate, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Jimin, you were drunk, it’s fine. Besides, it was nice to see a different side to you,” you reassured him with a smile.

“That’s not a side that I would like to be representative of who I am,” Jimin admits. “I don’t want to be known as the guy who makes people uncomfortable.”

You laugh. “Believe me, I was the farthest thing from uncomfortable.”

He locks eyes with you for a moment before clearing his throat and motioning toward your phone. “Have you checked your grades yet?”

You gasp, suddenly remembering the paper you had submitted a week earlier. You quickly bring up your most recent webpage, searching for the most recent grade listing. As your eyes glance over your paper and the notes, you realize that Jimin lived up to his reputation. You get up, shoving the phone in his face, squealing.

His eyes brighten, and he gets up as well. “You got an A!”

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Jimin, to your surprise, doesn’t push away. Instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. You take the moment to breathe in his intoxicating scent. The both of you remain intertwined far longer than you both know is appropriate but for some reason, neither one of you makes the move to let go.

Finally, Jimin relents first. He stares you in the face and says quietly, “I knew you could do it.”

You let out a small laugh. “I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you, Jimin”

“As a reward, we can end the session ten minutes early today,” Jimin replies and sits back down.

You find yourself shaking your head. “Can I request a different reward?”

Jimin looks up at you and nods. You look around the small study space. The room you chose was in the back, the library was relatively empty today and the small window the room provided was on the door and could easily be covered up the shade provided. You mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to say next. Things could go downhill, fast, depending on his reaction. Still, you steady yourself, look Jimin in the eyes and say, “I want a kiss.”

“What?”

“A kiss,” you repeat confidently. “I want you to kiss me as a reward.”

“I can’t kiss you,” he replies back, taking study materials out of his messenger bag. “That would be highly ina –”

“Jimin, if you don’t want to kiss me, just say so but don’t use the tutor-student relationship as a reason.”

He sighs. “I …” You watch as he struggles to find the right words.

“You were right about me,” you say, giving him a flirtatious smirk. “At the bar. I can take a good pounding.”

His face turns a beet-red, but he quickly recovers. He stands, walking to stand in front of you. “Just one kiss?”

“One kiss,” you repeat.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, lingering for only a few seconds before breaking the kiss. “That good?”

You shake your head. “I hardly think that’s worth all the work I put in.”

He smiles, genuinely amused, and says, “Really?”

You nod. “Maybe if it was longer …”

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, if it’s longer, you know what that will lead to …”

“Then let it lead to that,” you challenge, you push. “I don’t know why you have to act so anal-retentive all the time. Not everything has to be perfect. Just k—”

He cuts you off with a deeper kiss. It’s slow and sensual. His hands wrap around your waist, one of them running down the curve of your ass as he palms it slowly, indulging in the fleshy softness. You can feel his dick hardening on your thigh as he slips a tongue into your mouth.

Jimin is using both hands to palm your ass now, his dick grinding into you and a low, deep, moan leaves his mouth forcing an electric sensation to shoot down your spine and vibrate in your core.

“You sure you want this?” he asks through a searing kiss.

“Yes,” you think you say but you’re not sure. Your head is spinning that this is actually happening.

He responds by lifting your pleated skirt and smacking your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room. Fingertips dance between your ass crack, and he uses a knee to part your legs slightly further. You break the kiss, throwing your head back as you feel Jimin’s fingertips slowly rub your pussy from the back. He slips a finger into your underwear, running it up and down your slit.

“How long have you wanted this?” He asks, nipping at your neck. “You’re already so fucking wet.” You try to answer but all that comes out is a moan as he slips another finger inside. “Shh,” he tells you. “You want the whole library to hear you?”

He gives you a bit of a reprieve when his hands slip away. You watch as he pulls out one of the chairs and sits, beckoning for you to stand in front of him. Your skirt is still at your waist, so he pulls your underwear down before pulling you close. You feel his large hands grope your ass again, peppering kisses up and down your hips. Another smack echoes through the room before he uses a hand to caress clit. You move your hips in response, holding on to the table for balance.

He pauses. “Turn around and bend over.” He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You obey, and not a second later, you feel him placing one of your legs up on the study table. “Arch that back, baby.” Your ass juts out just a little more as you follow his directions. A moment later you feel a cool, wet, sensation going up and down the slit of your core. It’s slow at first, as if he’s taking the time to let the taste of you marinate on his tongue but he quickly picks up his pace. The tip of his tongue flickering over your clit. Meanwhile, you can feel his thumb, massaging your anus.

Jimin was an ass man, and he was making that very clear.

Both hands were gripping your ass now as he guided your pussy over his tongue. You work your hips in tandem, stifling a loud moan as your world begins to go white.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

He moves his tongue from your pussy up to your anus, and you jerk, having never quite felt something like this before. You can hear an amused laugh leave Jimin’s throat as he begins to massage your ass with his tongue. His fingers working your pussy, begging for another orgasm. You oblige, your wetness dripping all over his fingertips.

“Don’t move,” he demands. You can hear his belt unbuckling, followed by the tips of his dick moving up and down your incredibly wet slit. He slides it in with the patience of a saint, excruciatingly slow, forcing whimpers out of you, begging him to go faster. “You sure you want it faster?”

“Please,” you moan.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Jimin,” you manage to utter out.

He gives you your wish and begins to pound you like he said he would. His pace quickens and you can feel every inch of him inside of you. Your pussy wraps around him which causes him to smack your ass, and a deep moan leaves his lips.

You realize he can’t have all the fun though and you begin to throw it back on him, your ass bouncing against him, and he lets you. You can hear your wetness as you begin to drain his dick. You can hear his low grunts of satisfaction as you pick up your pace and when you look back, you can see his dark eyes looking at you in a way you never wanted to stop. “Good fucking girl,” he whispers in a low voice.

You make eye contact which forces him to grip your hips and pound into you harder, faster (stronger).  “One more time baby,” he says to you, maintaining eye contact. “Cum on this dick.” You had already been close, and his words only sent you over the edge further than you had ever gone. You close your eyes, your body shaking in pleasure as you have your third orgasm on his dick.

He follows suit, his cum shooting deep inside of you. You feel his body on top of yours as you both try to catch your breath.

“Was that worth all your hard work?’ He asks.

“I think I’ll have to get A’s for the rest of the year,” you reply.

“The rest of your life.”

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x black reader #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #smut #bts smut #bts x reader fic #jimin x black reader

[kidfrombridgeport]

There is a line I ride sometimes in Virginia that snakes along the James River up to Clifton Forge and into Kentucky. I usually get off at Lynchburg. The first time I got off here, it was raining. I found an abandoned building that was formerly several floors of businesses near the tracks and made plans to take cover for the night. Inside I found rooms of old computers, children's art work, and books of all kinds. I spent a few hours going through these books and ended up ripping out the illustrations that I liked with plans to draw them, or my version of them on trains.

I have a friend who knows things that I call Master Splinter and she told me I better catch the midnight train back the other way because I might be there for a few days. So I did and the bed I made for the night lay vacant. I rode back the other way and spent a few days painting these drawings on old grainers and coal cars with a little brush at a stop line near a creek and a fire pit my friends built called, "Possum Skull".

I went back to the abandoned building two other times a year or so later and slept there and repeated the process of finding images and putting them on the rails.

This led to me trying to find tiny libraries, flea markets, old bookstores and sometimes libraries throughout my wanderings and do the same. Today I found a German book called, "Die Regulatoren in Arkansas". I don't normally like ripping the photos out. I usually just take a photo and leave it behind but it was around freezing today and these pages were almost crumbling in my hands.

[nancypullen]

Checking In

It's been a wonderful few days here on the Pullen spread. Matt has been in town and he's always such good company. We've had a lot of laughs, eaten too much holiday food, and just enjoyed being together. The Edgewater gang went down to Tennessee for Turkey Day, but I've had two calls from our Little Miss and have seen loads of pictures - they're having a ball. They'll be home on Sunday, Matt will fly out this evening, and we'll all brace ourselves for Christmas. We're getting decorated, my cards have arrived, and I'm ready to start wrapping gifts. The mister and I may wander into D.C. and visit the Christmas market, or we may opt to go to Baltimore's Inner Harbor - they do a big German Christmas village with loads of vendors (and German food!). Chestertown, on our side of the bridge, will have their Dickens Christmas festival the first weekend of December. We'll definitely give that a go. Doesn't look like we'll lack for Christmas cheer. I've volunteered to work the Friends of the Library booth at the Ridgley Christmas shindig, we'll see if they plug me into the schedule. I think that's on the 9th. It's tiiiiime!

In other news....I GOT A JOB! The Caroline County Library looked past my pink fluff (and maybe my age) and offered me a position! Yippee! I'll start January 16th, so come on over and see the nice granny at the library, she'll help you with anything you need. I never thought I'd be starting a new job at age 60, but I truly think it's going to be good for me in many ways. I can't just rot in this house. When the offer was made and salary and start date settled, I was reminded that this was, of course, pending a clean background check. Why is it, that even when you know you haven't had so much as a speeding ticket in decades, you wonder if you'll pass the background check? No one has lived a more vanilla life than I have, but what if they uncover that I skipped school in 1980 and egged a rival high school? I'll bet the people doing my background check weren't even born in 1980. What's the statute of limitations of egging? I may also have knowledge of several toilet papering incidents. That's it, I'm sunk.

Moving right along. I've got several artsy projects going. It looks like a glitter factory exploded in my craft room and that makes me happy. Look at these little chests (don't look at my mess).

Those are going to be tooth fairy boxes! My grandgirl and my sister's grandson are about the same age, both in kindergarten and nearing the snaggletooth stage of life. I''ll touch up the paint on these, glue in a little cushion, and place a little scroll inside printed with a poem I wrote for them: The Tooth Fairy Riding a moonbeam, she enters our land With glittering wings and a pouch in her hand Searching for treasure, a fairy's delight, a child's lost tooth, shiny and white. Upon finding a tooth that pleases her eyes, she leaves that lucky child a surprise So take care of your teeth, do your best When one is lost, use this chest Close your eyes, drift and dream She'll soon arrive on a silver moonbeam When you wake, look inside And see what treats a fairy hides

Okay, it's rough, but it'll work for little kids. It's all about the magic, folks. Make as much magic as you can for as long as you can. If it includes glitter, even better. Okie dokie, time for me to get busy around here. There are decorations to hang, things to sparkle, and cookies to eat. I hope you're doing something fun today, too. Whether that means shopping with the crowds or watching Hallmark movies and drinking hot cocoa, do it! Let's make a pact to send 2023 on its way in a cloud of merriment and happiness. The world is insane, bad news blares at us all day, so do everything you can to make your little corner of the world sweet. Sending you love and lots of holiday cheer. Sprinkle it all over! Stay safe, stay well, stay jolly. XOXO, Nancy

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Monday 24 September 1832

6

12 5

fine morning F66° at 6 20 – out at 7 5 – with Dick and about the house – breakfast with my father at 8 – Booth and 2 men began the midfealther (mid wall to part off stove flue in the hall chimney) – Shaw the plasterer came to us to plan with Murgatroyd and all of us window for library passage – Dick made drain from the old dry bridge across the new part of walk and carried it thro’ into the garden – William Greenwood breaking ashes on the walk – James Howarth working for me painted rustic chair red by way of priming and preparing larger gate for Hall wood entrance to walk – Charles H- and George P- went with Pickles’s cart for rushes – Pearsons’ one horse cart brought 3 loads of ashes to walk near the upper garden door - Argus the great dog died and was buried this morning – Pickles and his brother Nathaniel (and son John) at the wearing – myself backwards and forwards with one or other all the day – read last nights’ courier in the hut while the men were at dinner -  letter this morning from Mrs Norcliffe 1 ½ page franked by BL Lester, from Harrogate yesterday - to announce Esther Dalton’s marriage with Dr Travis - the N-s and Mrs Milne returned from their journey - Mrs N- to be at home on Wednesday - Mrs Abbott called on my aunt this morning - saw her for a few minutes - my aunt rather better today – talk about building up a chimney outside the north parlour and north chamber – chimney (according to Booth) with 2 vents labour £3 stones about £3 i.e. 2 roods for chimney ad 2 roods suppose for re-building the wall at the bottom of the gable – and if the floor sunk, Pickles would do it in 2 days – would fill it up with ashes (a 1 horse load per square superficial yard) and a little lime and sand at the top – (1/4 doz. lime and as much sand) – to do as I liked – my father indifferent about it – then I will wait, and save my money for the present, as my aunt is not wishful for the thing to be done – dinner at 6 50 my aunt with me this evening which she has not been for several evenings past – asleep after she left me at 9 – went into the little room at 9 ½ - came to my room at 10 35 wrote the above of today – very fine day – F70° now at 10 50 pm

[embarktodenmark22]

May 31st, 2022

I started out today with a stop by “J&C (Juice & Coffee)”, where I got a delicious spicy chai latte and this scrumptious Serrano sandwich on a long, dark bread with some pesto and just the right amount of crunch. Looking at the menu there was pretty funny, as a lot of their drinks were named after cities and states in the U.S, and their milkshakes were named after presidents- with delightful options such as the Obama, the Reagan, the Roosevelt, the Eisenhower, and the Biden. Gave Beia and I a good chuckle.

After eating and chatting for a bit, we met the rest of the group at the fountain near the DIS classroom building, and all piled in to listen to a presentation by a member of this group called INDEX, which supports and raises up design projects that are intended to improve the world in categories of home, work, education/play, body/self, and/or community. Ditte, who gave us the presentation, talked about several INDEX award winning projects- including things like a book that tracked down every single product that the pieces of a single pig wound up in (which was crazy- the byproducts of a single pig went into multiple hundreds of individual products), a centrifuge (device for separating blood to test for blood-borne diseases) made out of paper in an origami-like process, baby clothes designed to grow with the baby, the Lifestraw (a Danish invention, btw), a helmet that looks like a scarf and inflates only when you get into a crash on your bike, and an incredibly exciting potential new form of non-hormonal birth control with (seemingly) little to no negative side effects! It was really intriguing and inspiring to hear about all of these projects and the ways in which design can be realistically used to improve the world. It made me want to start thinking of ways in which the problems I encounter in life could be solved by design.

Oh, it was also super cool to hear that something I found out about on TikTok actually won a serious design award from them- this elaborate Minecraft world built/used by journalists in countries where there is no freedom of press and censorship that may, on occasion, include death. It made me rethink how I had perceived that project when I had first discovered it. Hearing about it on TikTok, I kinda laughed off this idea, that something beneficial could be stored in a Minecraft world. But, the more I think about it, the cooler of an idea it is that a video game invented for leisure and creative interaction with a digital world has so much unlimited creative potential that one can build an actual library within the program, one with real-world effects on journalism and as a tool to bypass censorship. It was wild.

Anyways, after the presentation, out next stop was Glyptotek, a really awesome art museum not too far away from our dorms. I biked over, locked up my bike and my stuff, and immediately dived in to looking at some art. I, as a whole, enjoyed seeing art from a lot of Danish artists whom I’d never heard of. Everything I saw, for the most part, was just as good as the paintings I had been taught about in my art history classes, so I figure Danish artists didn’t make the cut to be taught about simply because, perhaps, there were many artists of that skill level at the time.

However, I definitely spent most of my time in the exhibits about French artists and other European artists associated with their movements, like Gauguin, Courbet, Manet, Monet, Degas, and, my favorite, Van Gogh!

Not exaggerating, I spent most of my time in the exhibit looking at the bigger painting of Van Gogh’s that they had on display, “Landscape from Saint-Remy” (1889). The only other Van Gogh I’d ever seen was a much smaller piece at the Denver Art Museum, so seeing one of his works of this scale in person was truly mind-blowing. I know a lot of people say that he’s their favorite artist, but I am certainly no exception. Something about the way he used color… and the visual language of his lines and spots of paint- and, even better, seeing up close (literally, I was so close to the painting the security guard kept giving me a funny look) the textural quality of his work…. Unf! Total art nerd moment. But really, something about seeing it in person- three-dimensional globs of paint an all, was really transformative. This also was a piece I hadn’t seen (even digitally/in classes) before, and knowing that the way he rendered things like clouds is so similar to the way that I do it just intuitively- I don’t know. I feel a weird sense of kinship, I feel like I understand how he saw the world. Plus, knowing the story of his life… and, being a nerd, I couldn’t help but think of the scene from Doctor Who (that I wish could’ve been real) where they took him to the Louvre to see how much people appreciate his work post-Mortem- that scene makes me cry every time. I’m getting a bit off-topic but, hey, if you’re reading this, you know these blog entries are very train-of-thought.

Anyways, part of the exhibit was an entire room of Gauguin’s work. It was neat. I wish I could’ve enjoyed it more, but I’m really, really not a fan of Gauguin- his art is amazing, don’t get me wrong- but he was kind of an icky human being with a colonizer mentality, and something about the way he fetishized indigenous people in some of his work has always rubbed me the wrong way. Plus, if I’m remembering my art history correctly (and not confusing Gauguin for someone else entirely), he was kind of a dick to Van Gogh and possibly the reason for his worsening mental condition. So, yeah, if I’m not getting people mixed up, fuck Gauguin (Seriously, pardon my cursing. I know it’s unprofessional, but these are big, nerdy feelings about art history and there is no better way to express them). My personal feelings aside, I had no idea that Gauguin had lived in Copenhagen for a while, and had had a Danish wife! What was funniest to me was that the entire time he lived in Denmark, he was miserable and constantly complained about it. Sounds about right. (Seriously, this guy seems like a whiner, I’m loving it here!) But that was the reason they had an entire room of his art on display. It was interesting seeing some of his pieces from before he found the distinctive style he’s known for- seeing how traces of it come through in how he used color and markmaking- but it wasn’t quite where it had developed later on.

Anyways, other than nerding out about Impressionists and the French artists they had on display, I mused on a few other things while walking around the museum. One wall highlighted the artistic practice of nude studies/painting studies in general. On this wall there were 5-6 examples of the same model, same pose, from different artists who were there studying her. I, again, felt a weird artsy kinship. It reminded me of times in life drawing classes where we’d be studying a model with charcoal for about an hour, and I’d get to go around the circle of us and take delight in noting how we all have the same basic attributes and pose down, but with each piece having its own distinct artistic stylization based on the artist. I think seeing an older version of this really made me aware of how interesting it is that something I have lived experience doing is has art historical precedent- and, on a different level of analysis- the fact that I am getting to experience these same practices as a woman! My understanding of art studies in previous eras is that, for a long while, live studies were exclusively men- from the artists to the models. Eventually, as the exhibit wall discussed in the museum, it shifted so that female models were allowed. Only within the past 100-200 years, however, have women been able to be, like men, both model and/or artist. It’s something that I take for granted, honestly.

On that note, viewing historical art as a female is just a bizarre experience at times in general. In multiple pieces that I saw, women were featured not as people, but as decoration. Maybe I saw a few objectified male figures, but the difference in numbers between the two was stark. It was a pretty depressing reminder that, for most of history (and even now at times), we have been viewed as second-class citizens. And every time a woman has tried to speak up on this, she gets shut down, has her feelings invalidated, or, in modern times, has been viewed as a “man-hating feminist.” We shouldn’t have to be objectified or sexualized just because of the parts we were born with. Yet male artists seem to think the opposite.

Some of the art was also an uncomfortable reminder of “a different time-“ I saw a couple paintings and sculptures featuring a man and a “woman-“ where the woman was actually just a girl. One sculpture, you could tell distinctly by proportion that it was an adult man lying next to a young girl. In a portrait, I saw an old, greying man next to a complacent wide-eyed wife who just had the quality of adolescence to her. Again, not a comfortable experience to be seeing these things as a woman who has lived past all of her teenage years. It’s horrifying to me, as a 21-year-old who still often feels like a child, that we live in a world where girls as young as 13 were forced to bear children for disgusting older men as soon as they were able. And that we live in a world where certain states (not naming names…) are trying to lower the age of marriage… yuck.

Anyways, ramble aside, I was also uncomfortable not just as a woman, but as a fat person. Again, I understand art historical conventions and deep, deep-rooted beauty standards all the way back, but the fact that I didn’t see a single body that looks like mine… am I not worthy of seeing myself in art? Has society’s distaste of fat bodies gone on for that long? Fat people have always existed alongside “normal” bodied people. Were we not beautiful enough to be immortalized in stone? I wasn’t the only one. I won’t say who I talked to, out of respect for privacy, but another one of the women on the trip conveyed to me that she had a similar feeling. And that’s sad. I think I’m going to, when I get home, start some sort of support group for women to talk about these things. I don’t know.

Obviously, nobody can re-write history or change the fact that thinner women have always been seen (for some reason) as the pinnacle of beauty, but I really thought maybe the fact that plumpness was, at some point, associated with wealth/health would at least get a couple fat people into the art there. I think I just have to accept that I live in a world that is unkind to people based on how they were born. Most likely, no matter how I eat or work out I am stuck in a body that is genetically wired to hold on to fat, and there are always going to be people who see me as less beautiful for that. But, tying back to my point- art and design- this has left me enraged and inspired to pump out more art into the world where bigger-bodied people can be seen as attractive.

Anyways. Wow. I got way, way, way off on a ramble there. I apologize to anyone who reads this, if you sat through all of that. Big feelings just seemed to have tumbled out (I don’t do any sort of blogging or journaling often, so that’s probably why). Despite my different reactions to certain things, I really did enjoy myself at this museum. I think my favorite part really was seeing work by the artists I’ve thoroughly learned about in my various art history courses. There is such a difference to seeing their work in person versus on a screen. I think the only thing I was even remotely disappointed by was a piece by Theodore Gericault, where he faithfully rendered an image of an adorable cat, and forgot the best part of the cat…. The toe beans! What a crime. Sorry, I’m letting my crazy cat lady show through here too, I guess. Can’t fight who I am.

Again, I’m sorry about the rambling that has taken place in this blog. I am too tired to edit it out, so it is what it is. (Hi mom, I’m sure you’ve read all of this and are going to text me about it later, love you!)

Anyways, after the museum came a visit to a company formerly known as Krukow (unfortunately I’ve forgotten their new name, which, I mean no offense by this, is a lot more generic). We got a thrilling presentation about behavioral design that left me wishing that I had learned more about it from my other design classes! Essentially, behavioral design works with the part of your brain that is subconscious (“System 1,” they called is) which is what we naturally make decisions with 90% of the time- “System 2” thinking is the other 10% where you are focusing, not merely relying on instincts and natural behaviors, and actively putting mental energy into a task requiring a higher level of thought. A lot of the design I’ve thought about and even made thus far has been appealing to that, as I’ve, more or less, been taught. On some level, I’ve learned to utilize subconscious tools (like shape language- sharp shapes being aggressive, smooth ones being approachable- and color psychology), but it was so cool to see a style of design that was all about the subconscious mind.

This is the kind of design we all kind of take for granted, but it’s genius! One example they showed was, in part of their hospital redesign, they took a self check-in kiosk that was plain, unassuming, and completely unlabeled (That literally nobody used) and increased its usage rare by 100% simply by putting underneath it a big yellow circle with footprint graphics (indicating that it is a place to stand/approach) and a big sign relying on a lot of visual cues indicating that, essentially, it was a place to check in. If I wasn’t so into making art and design that’s visually flashy and eye-catching, I would so explore doing behavioral design. It’s so much deeper than I had assumed. I really admired how they emphasized the universal quality of using visuals over text- indicating actions/directions with mere icons rather than a paragraph of words.

Again, this is something I’ve certainly taken for granted as I’ve interacted with similar signage/icon use. It was also pretty humorous how they were playing mind tricks on us, in a way (not in a bad way)- when we arrived, they had soda, fruit, and candy awaiting us, which we all gratefully took and munched down on after a bike ride in the rain. Later on, they revealed that using “System 2” thinking (like that required to pay attention to a presentation and learn) is draining to the body, so they had encouraged our attention by, essentially, raising our blood sugar with all the sugary options available.

Given all that we got up to today, I feel like I’ve learned so much! I’m ready to apply what I’ve learned, too, as I had my second meeting for the project I’m currently working on with a team. The rest of the day after Krukow went as follows: I followed my friend to meet Travis, Michelle, and Noreen at an amazing burger place where I had yet another of the best chicken sandwiches I’ve ever had in my life. I rushed back with just enough time to make the meeting, started working on a game plan for the project’s upcoming deadlines (some of which occur while I’m still abroad!), Then proceeded to use the rest of the night to catch up on blogs and journals, run to the market for snacks and sushi, then chatted with Beia and Tessa about a variety of things until we were all tired and settled down for bed.

I’m finding, as fun as going out and partying is, that having nights in, especially whilst tired, is just good for the soul. I may or may not be going out with the extroverts in some of the upcoming nights, so it’s good to rest and save that energy for another day.

[ikeromantic]

Hi there how are you doing? Since the ask box is open I rushed here with a request 😁

So my request is Theo and Mc have their first fight. (Theo start the fight first) And no bad endings. Advance thanks :)

So some angst and sweetness with Theo! Approx. 1000 words.

Theo inspected the painting with narrowed eyes. “You bought this today?” He didn’t look at his assistant as he asked. Just continued to go over the painting, magnifying glass in hand.

“Yes! I saw it and thought -”

“Hondje, it’s a forgery. I can’t believe you would be this idiotic.” He gestured to the signature. “Even the signature is botched! Fragonard never signed like this.” He finally turned to look at her. His lover, his partner, and right now, an absolute mess. Her face was flushed and there were already tears in her eyes.

“Did you just call me an idiot?”

Theo frowned. “No, I said you were idiotic. It’s not the same thing. Look, I don’t understand why you even bought this. You were supposed to be looking for a good gallery space. Tell me you at least found something.”

She took a shaky breath. “If you’d let me explain -”

“I don’t need you to explain, hondje. You got taken in by a forger. Obviously, you need more training. What’s worse is that you wasted time! We need more space to display this season’s artists. I have four new talents and -” he stopped and took a breath. Yelling at her just wasted even more time. “I’m going to head to town and see if I can get something done. You just . . . figure out what to do with this garbage.”

Theo began to put on his jacket.

“Sometimes you are such an ass.” She said it so quietly that Theo wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear her. Then she turned and left, slamming the door behind her.

He stared at the spot she’d been and sighed. Now she was upset and it was his fault. He knelt down to get a look at the forgery she bought. It was a really nice copy. The brush strokes were off, and the color palette wasn’t quite right, but it was pleasant to look at. The artist had real talent, if they would put it toward their own work.

That wasn’t the point though. It could be complete trash and he would still be in the wrong for shouting. Work should never come before love. Theo took a deep breath. Then he stood and went looking for her.

She wasn’t in her usual places. Her room was empty, Leo was in the thermae, and Sebastian said he hadn’t seen her near the kitchen. Isaac was hiding in the library, alone all day, he’d said.

Theo checked every room, but couldn’t find her. He stepped outside to check the garden. Empty, empty, all empty. It was only when he made it to the edge of the rose garden that he spotted her. Sitting in a tree, her legs dangling from the branch, her gaze skyward.

He made his way to her slowly, careful to step around the tiny sprouts of new plants in the soft soil. Then he sat down under the tree, his back against the rough bark.

“I don’t want to talk to you. Go away.”

“I’m not talking.” Theo kept his eyes on the garden as if he could care less whether or not she was there.

She huffed but fell silent.

Neither of them said anything for awhile. They watched the horizon, breathing in the cool air of the late afternoon, and waited for the sun to drop below the trees. They sky was a deep, bruised purple when she finally spoke again.

“I knew it was a forgery.”

Theo nodded, then realized she might not be able to see the gesture from her vantage point. “I figured that out.”

“You should have let me finish talking.”

“I should have.” He agreed.

She sighed, her breath loud in the quiet evening. “It makes me feel like you don’t trust me. You think I’m stupid.”

A warm droplet hit Theo’s arm, and then another. “Neither of those things is true.” His throat felt hot and tight and closed as he realized how he must seem to her.

“It is.” Her voice broke as she tried not to give away her tears. “I found your - your stupid venue for the next art show. And I got the name of the forger too. I thought - I thought you’d want to meet him. But you didn’t let me say anything. You just yelled at me.”

“I . . .” The words stuck fast in his throat. Theo forced them out, his heart aching for the hurt his thoughtless words caused. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

He heard the scrape of her clothes against the tree limb. “It’s just how you are. I know that. I just . . . I don’t know if I can -”

Theo felt a tear in his chest as he anticipated what she would say next. “Please -” The word came out with breathless desperation. “Let me - let me try again. Let me show you how I trust you. How much I adore you.”

She sniffed. Another tear drop landed, this time on his upturned cheek.

“My beautiful, intelligent, amazing lover. Please. I know I can be . . . I can be an ass. And you shouldn’t put up with it. I - I can’t promise to change but I can promise to try. Please.” It was a flood, words and breath and his own tears. If he lost her for his own stubborn idiocy . . .

“I love you.” She smiled down at him, her lips curved in a sad smile. “That’s why it hurts so much.”

He nodded agreement.

She held her arms open as if to hug him and he understood what she wanted. Theo stood and waited, ready. She flung herself from the branch and into his arms.

He caught her. Held her close. The rapid beating of her heart matched his own. Then he kissed her. Tentatively at first, but she threaded her fingers through his hair and deepened the kiss.

Theo carried her back to the mansion, exchanging whispered endearments in the bruised twilight. Promises to cherish each other. Promises written in their hearts and on their souls. Love comes first.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo #theodorus van gogh #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff #light angst

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 7

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; sexual acts and dubcon (not explicitly tagged for a surprise but nothing extreme).

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: We back at it again! Happy Tuesday.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

‘When I was nineteen, pureness was the great issue...I saw the world divided into people who had slept with somebody and people who hadn’t, and this seemed the only really significant difference between one person and another. I thought a spectacular change would come over me the day I crossed the boundary line.’

You read and reread the paragraph. You couldn’t help it. The first time you read that book, you just didn’t get the cynicism. There were still parts you couldn’t quite relate to. But that passage sank into you like a pebble in water. You felt changed already and after something so little.

You hadn’t seen Lee since Saturday. He had your number now and called at night. A few times, there was noise in the background; people, cars, life. You realised he must’ve been at a payphone, taking a moment away from his patrol. That was another thing about him; he felt so established, so wise, and that made you feel even less.

When the phone began to ring that night, you ignored it. And when it stopped, you picked up the receiver and dialed the only number you knew. Your mom picked up and you heard the sink running in the background. She was always busy when you called.

“Mom,” you said, “it’s me.”

“Oh, hi, dear,” she replied in her creaky tone, “how are you? Oh, is something wrong?”

“Um… I’m okay, I just wanted to call, I…” you thought of telling her about Lee but you weren’t really sure how. You weren’t even sure why you called her, only that you felt alone. “I miss you and daddy.”

“We miss you, too,” you heard her steps and her grunt as she stretched the cord and twisted off the faucet. “He’s been working hard down at the steel yard and he’s so proud. All the other men tell him to hush up when he brags about you.”

“Yeah? I… I’m working hard. Got an A on my last paper,” you played with the coiled cord.

“That’s great, dear,” she chimed, “are you sure you’re okay? You sound tired.”

“I am tired,” you said, “that’s all. Studying and all that.”

“I hope so. I wouldn’t want you going out late to one of those parties,” she tittered, “Noreen’s son got arrested at one of those and spent a night in jail. They spent their mortgage to get him out.”

“No, no, I don’t, um, go to parties,” you assured, not adding that no one would even think to invite you to one.

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry, I’ll have to call back tomorrow,” she sighed as you heard the door clamour, “your father’s so intent on hurting himself these days.”

“Okay, um, it’s alright, I’ll talk later, love y--” the phone went dead and you listened to the dull tone.

You put the receiver back in the cradle and tapped your fingers on your lips. You picked up your book and sat back on your bed. You couldn’t focus on the words though as your mind lingered on the familiar sounds of home. You missed it terribly. You just wanted to take the bus and go hide in your old childhood bed.

The phone rang again. You knew it wasn’t your mother. You left it and when it silenced, there was only a second before it started again. You waited until the next lull and moved the receiver off the cradle and let the low hum rise from the speaker. You kept it off the hook and closed your book.

You didn’t want to deal with any of that today. Not Lee, not Plath, not the plague of woes that roiled your stomach. You flopped onto your bed and pulled your pillow over your head. You weren’t going to think again until your morning lecture.

📚

You sat near the front of the hall with your elbow on the small fold-out desk. You swirled your pen lazily in the air as you listened to the professor expound on the flaws of historical revisionism. He wasn’t the type to entertain questions or comments, he merely ranted and expected you to note those few words of value amidst the sea of thoughts.

You yawned, exhausted despite an early night. You felt empty and drained those last four days. Ever since…

You didn’t think about it. Tried not to even as it tugged at your mind. When the memory managed to poke through, you felt the same tingle between your legs and your cheeks burned in humiliation. 

How had you let it happen? How could you let yourself do that?

You were so confused by it all. How could it be wrong if Lee said it was right? He was older, he was a cop, and he knew much more than you. You never even kissed a boy before him and he was so confident in everything he did that he must be doing it all right. 

Besides, after everything, if you refused him, you’d have only been leading him on and using him for his kindness, even if you didn’t realise what you were doing. Because what you did know was that he was a man and you were a woman and that he was doing nice things for you. And you accepted them all. The least you could do was bide his affection. That was the age old exchange, was it not?

“Next week, we’ll review chapters five and six,” the professor’s tone piqued as his ramble subsided, “I expect a class discussion and you can expect ten percent of your mark to be evaluated from your contribution and I will know if you just ‘skimmed’ the introduction.’

The class grumbled as he dismissed you and you stood slowly, stretching the cramp from your leg. You packed up your bag and hauled it on your shoulder. You had a gap between that class and your afternoon publishing class. You trailed out behind the flow of chattering students but found many of them lowered their voices as they came out into the hall.

There voices fell to whispers as they entered the hall. The sight of a brown hat assured you of the reason. Sheriff Bodecker stood against the painted brick and watched the students pass by, each eyeing him nervously and some chuckling under their breaths nervously. You tried to hide behind a taller student but your name tripped you up.

Despite your efforts to maintain your invisibility, he’d spotted you and you knew you could run away. Several of your peers craned around to watch you, no doubt suspecting some trouble on your part. You dragged your feet and stepped out of the tide of fleeing co-eds to stand along the wall with Lee.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

“Young lady,” he said staunchly and kept his eyes on the other students, nodding at them darkly as they passed.

He waited until the hall was empty before he turned on you. You fidgeted and caught your bag as it slipped from your shoulder. Your thoughts wrinkled above your brow and you stared at his brown leather shoes.

“How did you… find me here?”

He was silent as he reached in his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it and showed you a print-out of your schedule.

“Easy enough,” he tapped his badge nonchalantly, “I was worried. You didn’t answer last night.”

“I fell asleep early,” you said weakly, “morning lecture, you know?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, “not that early.”

“I’m sorry, I was sleep--”

“You’re no good at lying and I don’t like you telling me fibs,” he growled, “you playin’ around with me, honey.”

“No, I…” you blinked as he folded the paper back into his pocket and pushed his jacket back to settle his hand on his pistol.

“Did you forget who I am? What I am?” he arched a brow darkly.

“N-No, sir, I… I got schoolwork and--”

“You can’t stop and talk to me for ten minutes?” he challenged, “you hurt me, honey. I’m out on patrol all night, in danger, and the only thing I got to look forward to is hearing your sweet voice.”

“I, um, I… er, I’m confused,” you eked out, “I don’t know… I…”

“Honey,” he leaned in and his hot breath glossed over you as he lowered his voice, “you know what this is, we both know what a bad girl you were on Saturday.”

“I didn’t…” you swallowed and choked on your voice, “I gotta go to the library--”

You tried to turn away but were pulled back by his tight grip on your arm. He forced you against the wall and knocked the wind from you as your bag tumbled from your arm. You gasped and stared up at him in fright. In that moment, he seemed bigger than ever; taller, thicker, and strong as hell. Stronger than you for sure.

“You don’t go nowhere ‘less I say you do,” his other hand shifted on his gun, “you got me?”

“What are you-- I didn’t… why are you being mean?”

“Me? Honey pie, you been avoiding me and I’m mean?” he snarled.

“I wasn’t avoiding you, I’m just... busy,” you whimpered as he squeezed your arm so tight it throbbed, “you’re hurting me.”

“You’re hurting me,” he hissed, “you think I got time to be comin’ down here on duty to find you?”

“You didn’t have to--”

“I did,” he barked, “I had to make sure you weren’t hussyin’ around with any other boys, like I found you last week.”

“I told you, that wasn’t--”

“Shhhhh,” his hand flew to your chin and forced your mouth shut, “I don’t got the time for this, honey. I’ll be around tonight and you’ll wear a pretty dress for me, won’t you?”

You clenched your jaw and nodded stiffly as his thumb toyed with your lip. He smiled and the tension left his grasp.

“Good girl,” he drew away and squared his shoulders, “you be ready at six and don’t keep me waitin’ again.”

“Yes, sir,” you croaked.

“Mmm,” he nodded with a smirk, “you know, I think I do prefer ‘sir’.” He bent and kissed your lips before you could turn away. You let him and he stood straight again and adjusted his belt, “six o’clock, honey pie.”

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #laisse tomber les filles #the devil all the time #college au #au

[lxngbottom]

Mute | N.L.

in which the reader doesn’t talk, and neville tries to change that.

warnings: bullying, swearing, mentions of mental illness/anxiety, some angst (let me know if there are more!)

word count: 2,298

thank you for all of the love on my last two one shots!! it means so much ty ty okay now enjoy

—

“trauma, maybe? my dad’s friend who’s a muggle doctor said that trauma can completely change a person.”

there the three boys were again, sitting at the gryffindor table in the great hall, trying to understand the girl who would always sit ways away from everyone else.

“maybe she’s just really shy!” dean quickly replied, shooting down seamus’s suggestion. seamus shrugged, and took a large gulp of his morning pumpkin juice.

“no! longbottom is “shy”, but y/n? i haven’t heard her say one single thing since second year.”

neville listened in on his friend’s conversation, only letting his eyes leave them when he went to take quick glances at the girl of the hour.

y/n was to put it into simple terms... mute. it was very difficult to hear her utter a single vowel, let along a whole statement. everyone at hogwarts knew that she was not just quiet or shy, but completely silent. people wondered how one person could go without speaking for so long. she was a bit jittery, seemingly nervous all the time. if someone shot a single look at her and she noticed, she would look away without even giving the person a chance to smile or wave.

weirdly, she had always been this way. since the first day of first year, she kept to herself, not even attempting on taking the chance of getting to know someone who might become a life long friend. it really got under people’s skin when they asked her a question, and she just simply wouldn’t respond. so, this caused for students to completely avoid her. it seemed that it was a collective agreement among the school that no one should even try speaking to her. and that was because, again, they would never get a reply.

out of these students, neville longbottom seemed to be the most intrigued. he would never forget the first time he heard her speak. it was one day in third year, of course neville was clumsily making his way down the hallway. as he did so, he didn’t notice that y/n was walking straight for him. and of course, she didn’t notice him either until they both crashed into each other’s bodies. neville fell back onto the ground, letting a small huff escape from his lips. surrounding students cackled at the two as they continued walking. when he looked up, he saw the panic in her eyes and the way she quickly reached down to get her books.

“uh—merlin... sorry about that...” he stuttered, reaching down as well to help her. she glanced at him, but quickly looked away when he noticed. of course, she stayed silent. “are you alright?”

she nodded her head, and stood up with the books in her hand. “yeah. thanks.” and with that, she rushed away from him, not even giving him a chance to say one more word.

he would never forget it. the way her voice was so soft and fragile. he had honestly wished he could hear it more.

admittedly, neville felt bad for her. every time he looked at her, something nagged at him about the girl. every time she got called out in class to answer a question, he would panic for her as her face would drop.

she looked so lonely. she would sit in the back of the class always. he had seen her in the library quite often, just reading, sitting all alone at a table. he hated that she seemed so alone.

he wanted to change that.

—

the day was quiet. only the sounds of birds outside and the wind blowing through the trees on the castle grounds. saturdays were always the perfect days for going to the library, studying, or just to read a good book. that was y/n’s plans consisted of most of the time.

y/n made her way through the large halls, waving discreetly to the paintings on the wall. it seemed as if the lively pictures were the only people that ever respected her, told her hello as she walked by.

her fingers were tightly grasped around two books, as she was planning on returning both of them. her face didn’t show it, but she was quite excited to find two more books to add to her reading list. reading had always been considered an easy escape to y/n. pages filled with so many words, but told so many different stories. stories about love, heartbreak, dragons, princesses, noble wizards, y/n enjoyed all of it.

as she daydreamed about her next book, she hadn’t noticed the small group of students exchanging glances and laughing as they saw her approaching. before she knew it, her books were being slapped out of her hand, and hit the ground with a loud noise.

she looked up finally and saw draco malfoy standing right in front of her, hands in his pockets, chuckling with all of his friends from his choice of action against her.

“you gotta be quicker than that, mute!” he teased, and y/n bent down to grab the two books. when she stood up and met eyes with him again, he shook his head at her. “can’t think of a good comeback? or are you just too scared to say anything?”

she held the books tight to her chest, trembling from malfoy’s presence.

“thought so. see you around, mute.” he spat her way, but not forgetting to bump into her figure as he walked away, his friends following behind him.

y/n sighed, and turned around to make sure they were completely gone.

she started her journey once again, making her way to her sanctuary that people called the library.

when she arrived, she returned her books to madam prince silently, and this didn’t shock the librarian whatsoever. she was used to y/n coming in, checking out countless books, and checking them out and returning them muted.

as y/n skimmed the aisles, she came to the conclusion that she would once again read one of her favorite books. she had read it about seven times, but she could never get over how beautifully written it was. it was truly the best thing she had ever laid her eyes on, and she knew she would probably read it once more after this time around.

but when she went over the familiar bookshelf, the book in question wasn’t in the place it always was. she furrowed her eyes brows, and checked the rest of the shelves near just to make sure it hadn’t been misplaced. but of course, it was no where to be found.

malfoy had provided her with a sour experience already that day, and now she couldn’t even check out her favorite book? she already knew where this day was going, and she frowned in disappointment at the thought.

y/n had settled on some other fantasy novel that seemed to acquire to her taste. she checked it out, and made her way to the back of the library. she always went where it was secluded, almost no one else but her present. but little did she know, behind all the shelves she was walking by, someone followed her.

she finally found a small table to sit down at, and she did so with relief. it always made her so nervous to think that she might have to actually sit with other people one day. but luckily, that day wasn’t today. or so she thought.

because as a few minutes went by, and her eyes were glued to the book pages in front of her, she heard a chair being pushed. she looked up, and met eyes with neville longbottom. he shot her a small smile before speaking,

“can i sit here? it’s okay if not, everywhere else just feels a bit stuffy.”

she stared at his features for a moment, thinking back to the day when she bumped into him in the hallway. she gave him a single nod, and luckily, he didn’t miss it.

as he sat down in front of her, she gulped heavily. she hated being around others, even in a peaceful place such as a library.

a few minutes went by, the silence filling in the gap between the two. neville would glance at her a few times over his book, and she seemingly seemed lost in her own world. but at some point, she finally did look away from the words on the pages. she looked at the book he was “reading”, and noticed the familiar cover. if she hadn’t caught herself, she would’ve let out an audible gasp.

he had her book.

she seemed to be staring for too long, because neville looked at her.

“have you read this before?” he suddenly asked, snapping her back into reality. “it’s actually pretty good. i’m not big on fantasy, but this isn’t too bad.”

yeah, it’s an amazing book. she knew that very well.

but of course, she didn’t express that into words for neville. she only snapped her eyes back to her book, and neville frowned a bit.

did he say something wrong? he thought for sure that this was her favorite book. i mean, he had seen her with it more times than he could keep track of, so he could only assume.

“what’s that you’re reading? is it good?”

she looked up at him through hooded eyes, still not budging.

“well, anyways... i’m more of a herbology book lover. i love learning new things about plants. i think it’s really cool...”

y/n felt herself becoming confused, and almost bothered. she knew who neville was, but couldn’t understand why he was attempting to spark a conversation with her.

“i noticed that you like to read,” he mentioned, and y/n finally looked at him fully. “i mean—i see you here a lot, and you’re always reading from what i can tell. what’s your favorite genre?”

as neville attempted to get the girl to speak, he closed his book without looking. he realized that was a mistake when the heavy book closed onto his finger, and he let out a loud yelp.

as much as y/n tried, she couldn’t hold in the small giggle that fell from her lips. she covered her mouth in an attempt to hide it, but neville’s ears caught it.

“oh, you think my suffering is funny, huh?” neville joked, smiling out of triumph. she hadn’t spoke, but she laughed. and neville swore it was the most angelic thing he had ever heard.

she shook her head at his question, her cheeks turning a dark red from embarrassment. she had hoped he was okay, but nonetheless, it was funny.

the whole time they were in the library, neville rambled on about random things. he had brought up his interests in plants, making sure not to over explain his love for them. he talked about books, and random things that had happened to him and his friends during his time at hogwarts. he was making it his number one goal to get her to talk at least once.

but as darkness began to fall, and as curfew approached quicker and quicker by the minute, he hadn’t succeeded. he was quite shy at the fact that he had just sat in the library all day rambling to someone who never even spoke back. she had seemed to be listening, which took him by surprise. he had never had someone to listen to him as he spoke, let along not interrupt him in a conversation.

as much as she hated to admit it, y/n had a good time herself. she loved the way neville talked, how he explained things so deeply and with so much detail. he never seemed to miss a beat in a conversation, even if it was practically with himself. it made her realize that she wish she had the strength to speak. she wished she could respond to his questions without feeling her stomach churning.

the two left the library, their bags draped over their shoulders as they walked. y/n still had two books clutched into her hand, as she has checked out a random herbology book before leaving. neville smiled when she did so, feeling giddy inside that he had managed to spark an interest in her.

“that book is really good! it’s all about water plants! which are really cool, by the way. you should read up on gillyweed! it’s this really cool plant that—“ when he went to ramble on once more, he stopped himself. “never mind. i think i’ve talked a bit too much, today. wouldn’t you agree?”

for some reason, y/n wanted him to keep talking. it filled the silence that she considered her serenity, and she enjoyed every last word he spoke.

“well... i think this is where we part ways. do you need me to walk you back?” he asked, secretly hoping that she would say yes. but, she shook her head no. he was greatly dissatisfied, but, he tried his best to understand.

“oh, okay. well... goodnight, y/n. maybe we can hang out in the library some other time.”

he smiled at her, not expecting a word, but only catching a glimpse at the red that rose to the tips of her ears.

neville began to walk away, feeling a bit defeated.

suddenly, something that neville never wouldn’t expected:

“goodnight.”

he stopped in his place, and turned around. she covered her mouth with her books, but neville could tell that she was smiling. he couldn’t believe that the word had left her mouth.

“goodnight, y/n.” he repeated, and she shot him a smile before walking in the other direction. a genuine smile. the first one he had ever seen besides from her giggling.

he wanted to hear that voice, and those giggles more than she could ever have guessed.

#harry potter #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville x reader #neville longbottom smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut

[incidentalcomics]

There Is a Rainbow

My new picture book THERE IS A RAINBOW is out today. It's a story of hope during the pandemic. School Library Journal called it "the perfect pandemic book...the book we need, the message we deserve."

When my editor Ariel Richardson sent me Theresa Trinder’s powerful, poetic text, I was hooked. It was a welcome chance for me to explore some of my thoughts, feelings, and observations from last Spring’s lockdown. I also experimented with a new art style: colored pencil. Let’s just say I used a lot of them...

Here in Kansas, our stay-at-home order took effect in late March. I was forced to be off from my job as an orthodontist. I attempted to work on comics, but found it difficult to accomplish much. It was an unprecedented amount of family time. We went on walks in neighborhoods in parks all across the city. I taught my kids to ride their bikes. I kept a couple sketchbooks and a written diary.

Eventually my diary turned from daily observations into short poems. My sketchbook was filled with scenes from our daily life. Though confined to our small circle of people, I felt attuned to the outside world.

When I sat down with Theresa’s text and started sketching, I tried to capture the energy of my kids roaming free during the pandemic. Separated from school and friends, but full of joy and curiosity. Splashing in puddles. Scribbling on the driveway in sidewalk chalk. Finding big sticks and tiny snails. Climbing trees.

Here are some early sketches for the book:

I wanted to show rainbows in every way possible. In windows, on sidewalks, in the scattered droplets of a garden hose. By blending colored pencils, I used a spectrum of colors to create the world of a young boy and girl at home during lockdown.

For visual reference, I looked at sidewalk chalk drawings in my neighborhood encouraging social distancing, hand-washing, and hope. I found some of my old sketches from a street of brownstones on a street in Brooklyn near where my brother lives.

I read news stories of the rainbow window displays that sprung up in cities everywhere. There was a feeling of fear and confusion in the world. But also of shared purpose and unity.

One day while working on the book, I went on a morning run. I was greeted by a perfect rainbow arcing across the clearing sky. Life seemed to be imitating art. Of course, I put it down in my sketchbook.

Though the pandemic is far from over, this new year has brought a sense that things will get better. Despite uncertainty, we have a vaccine and better understanding of the virus. There is a new administration here in the US with a new sense of dignity and purpose. As Theresa wrote in our book: “On the other side of a storm, there is a rainbow.”

It's time to start creating a better future. Put pencil to paper. Paint to canvas. Chalk to sidewalk. Start imagining. What will your rainbow look like?

#picture books #there is a rainbow

[plutodexay]

hi i love your writing! could you do a fluff with remus we here they’re both professors and the kids ship them lol

Sorry this took so long but thank you for the request (and compliment!!), I hope this is what you wanted and I loved this prompt.

906

After a sudden paint bomb went off on the opposite side of the building, put there by some very obviously not Weasley twins, Remus and I started walking back towards our adjacent classrooms together. The conversation started out professional until we were out of the other's earshot, then it spiraled into how Remus hadn’t managed to pull that off with his friends back when he was the twins' age. Of course the twins hadn’t done it, just an age reference, no blame on the very innocent boys.

Somehow his class had managed to gather in his classroom without him, and the moment those doors opened a rain of ‘oooooo’s came down on us, something they did every time we were near one another without another professor, leaving us both stunned for the second. All it took was Remus giving the class a stern look for them to quiet down almost immediately, a laugh left me before I could stop it, causing him to look back at me with a small smile. Nodding to me, he turned away, walking into his classroom and starting his lesson before the door even shut, leaving me alone in the silent hallway to collect my thoughts.

Maybe there was something to the students' words and whispers, their small glances followed my murmurs and small points in our directions. We always just laughed at the expressions but recently there was more to it, in my mind at least. I could swear every time one of the events happened Remus sent a smile to me that I never saw him direct to anyone else. A smile that made me feel something I could never explain in any way other than hidden romantic feelings that only recently came to the surface.

Finally I headed back towards my own classroom, my students waiting in their seats as well. I could feel the confused looks on their faces as I walked in, later than I wanted or was warranted for the class.

“Were you with professor Lupin?” One of the older students asked, raising them hand quicker than they ever had in my class.

“Yes?” I answered back, confusion laced in my voice wondering how they figured that out.

“You always have that face when you come back from talking with him,” Another student stated, barely even lifting their head out of their book to look at said face they were talking about. Other students let out small giggles at the words, all giving me slight smiles as I rolled my eyes at their expressions.

“That and we heard the loud bang” Someone else said, causing the rest of the class to shush them right as I decided to finally start my lesson for the day, in a poor attempt to for once not think about the apparent issue anymore. It really did not work.

*Time Jump*

“I do apologize for the students' actions earlier today” Remus spoke up after we had been sitting in the library in silence for who knows how long. Closing his book to move all of his focus onto me, his eyes causing my face to burn.

“Mine did the same thing,” I added to the conversation, trying to get him to bring something else up.

After a small break of silence, Remus reached over to me, grabbing my own book out of my hands and closing it as he did his own. Yet, even as he did, for some reason he did not move his hand away from where it was resting on my own. His skin on mine felt like ice and fire all in the same way.

“Maybe they see something we haven’t.” His voice was hushed and he averted his eyes away from mine as he spoke. I could feel his hands shaking at the expression that had remained unspoken between us until now.

“Do they?” I ask him, turning my hand to lay on top of his to try and calm his nerves even though mine were going crazy as well.

He looked at my hand due to the movement, staring at our hands almost in disbelief for a moment before looking back up at me, our eyes meeting again. I felt his hands stop to shake as we stayed in the silence with our eyes locked.

“If you would want, we could put their theory to the test?” Remus asked, leaning in closer to me in an almost impossible way. I could feel his breath hitting my face in short and quick exhales from the stress of the moment.

“I would like that,” I felt a small smile creep up onto my face, and almost in an instant Remus’s face started to match my own.

Then, in a sudden movement Remus stood up and turned to a desk near us and grabbed something off of the table. After turning to me I saw it was a small flower that could be found almost anywhere on the grounds. A lopsided smile spread across his face as I reached out to take the flower, my face tilted in a positive question.

“A first year gave it to me early, they told me to give it to the ‘pretty professor I’m always looking at’, kids right” It only took a moment for both of us to burst out in laughter, then to be shushed by the librarian around the corner.

Who knows, maybe the kids had it right all along.

#remus lupin #remus x you #remus x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x you #remus fluff #professor lupin #fluff #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #remus fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #harry potter

[swtki]

You And Him

Part 2

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem! reader , Fem! reader x Cedric Diggory

Summary: Cedric can’t help but feel envious when you aren’t his.

WARNINGS: ANGST, THIS IS SAD, MENTIONS OF SEX

A/N: Okay so maybe I’m feeling shitty because of my personal life but thats neither here nor there, this is written in Cedrics POV. Also in this AU Cedric and George and Y/N are all in 7th year.

We were fourth years when we first met, I saw you sitting at the table near mine in the great hall and I never wanted to take my eyes off of you. I never wanted to see you without a smile painted on your already gorgeous face, a smile that I was cause for. You were eating and conjuring up a conversation with the other girls, it wasn’t long until one of the girls noticed and giggles errupted, causing us to lock eyes. Thats when I knew, I never wanted to take my eyes off of yours.

After I mustered up all the courage my fourteen year old self could, I introduced myself in one of our classes. People knew me as punctual, well said and put together, but when I talked to you I couldn’t stop rambling. You laughed at me, but I knew it wasn’t a pity laugh or anything laced with venom. Your laugh was warm, and sweet, I could tell you were laughing because you thought it was charming. You would later confirm this on a drunken evening.

“Cedric,” you said, “Do you remember when we first met? All you could muster was fragments!”. Your cheeks were pink, the fire whiskey’s proof of making its way to your bloodstream.

I thought things between us were strictly platonic, it was an unspoken agreement that we kept our hands in our laps. We were just friends. All friends loved each other for years on end right?

Just when I decided to accept that, we hooked up. We hooked up in my room and I’ll never regret it, I just wish I hadn’t fallen in love with you more. It happened another time, four months later. The sight of you wrapped in my sheets was beyond heartwarming.

You seemed to not have any feelings towards it nor any against. You would smooth your skirt down, and say goodbye to me like we had just joked around. But if I were to have you in any way other than platonic, I figured this would be our first step.

But thats when you got paired with him, you got paired with the boy every girl was infatuated with for his humor alone. I walked us out of class, thats when I should have seen things were in path to change:

“George is quite sweet actually, he’s more than just jokes. He complimented my intelect today, what boy in our year compliments on anything other than bust?”

I should have dropped everything to proffess my love to you right then. Drop to my knees, tell you how I value your intelect as much as your pure beauty. But, I didn’t. So we went on walking as our usual selves.

I had to listen to you fall in love with George Weasley, during study sessions and late night drinkings. I slapped a smile on my face as I listened;

“I don’t know, George is just so...so perfect. He asked me to study with him on Friday, alone in the library!”

I pretended to be happy for you. But inside I was nothing if not crushed. I wondered if maybe this was a first date that would lead to nothing, secretley I hoped it was. But, it wasn’t - and as the months dragged on, you were head over heels. I developed sores on the inside of my cheeks from biting them, I never wanted to make you unhappy, even if that meant hurting myself.

Still, I hoped things would be casual with you and him. But, every time I saw the shaggy ginger and your beautifully lit up face, that hope deminished. Then, he gave you a necklace for your birthday. A locket really, but you wore it every single day.

“Ced, look-“ you opened the locket to reveal a picture of you and him “Isn’t it just magnificent?”.

I agreed, and declaired how thoughtful and romantic George was. Even though the thing representing those charactaristics were sitting around the neck where my love bites used to mark.

I decided that if I could not be happy for you, I would be happy for myself. I asked Cho Chang out, we talked all evening until curfew came. She wasn’t you, but she was great all the same. She looked at me the way I always wanted you to look at me.

I know now, that you truly understand. When I walked into class hand in hand with her, I saw your jaw clench. And it told me all I needed to know.

Tag list: @annasdani @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @faeinorbit @anchoeritic @cedricsyellowscarf @cedwardcullen

#harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #george wealsey x reader #george weasley smut #fred weasly x reader #cedric diggory smut #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader smut #cedric diggory x reader #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley smut #hp smut #hp headcanon #hp x reader

[moonyblackwerewolf]

Betrothed Ch. 1 - Sirius Black

Sirius Black x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.653

Summary: Sirius and Y/N meet at a family dinner and have some fun, later she finds out she is betrothed to some pureblood boy so Sirius comes up with a mental idea to save them both. 

warnings: Kissing, hints of sex, 'aggressive' parents, underage drinking, idk my writing and English? lol

a/n: so this is just an idea for a possible series!! i never published anything before so i’m kind of scared but i really hope you like it!! :) xxx

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch. 2.5 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch. 5 

(not my gif)

Diner party

The Royal Manor of Watson was a cold palace, stone walls, rich decorations, sumptuous, but intimidating. The Watsons were cold people, living in a house too big for five people, but Y/N thought it was only fitting, since her parent’s ego was as big as the manor itself. Their pureblood mania deep in their minds, untouchable, which made their daughter’s life miserable. They were the perfect family on the outside but rotten in the inside, three children, Diana, two years older than Y/N, beautiful, smart and most importantly just as purist as their parents and William, tall, handsome, sophisticate and serious, he was the older sibling, three years older than Diana, he was already working with their father on the Ministry of Magic, daddy’s favourite. Home was big, impressive, a dream home if you saw it, libraries, uncountable bedrooms and living rooms, ball rooms, huge gardens, and everything you could ask for but it was far from being a welcoming home.

Though, all of her miserableness went away once she first went to Hogwarts. Of course, being sorted in Slytherin and having good grades was minimal when it came to living up to her parents’s expectations, which were high and if not complied there would most certainly have severe consequences, but still Hogwarts was more of a Home than the Watson Manor ever was. 

Throughout the years, Hogwarts had become her first true home. There she felt the warm winds, the familiar feeling in the great halls, friendships, all she ever hoped for was there, a home, but not quite yet. She met Elizabeth Greengrass a blonde, tall thin girl with deep grey eyes and enviable beauty, Katherine Abbott who looked almost like Diana, but shorter, longer darker hair, blue-green eyes and thiner face. The three girls became best friends right after being sorted into Slytherin. Later on her second year she met Elijah Lestrange, through her sister, he was a year older, handsome and had a polite appearance. Y/N loved her friends but they shared the same blind beliefs her parents do, she’d always nod when they talked about mudblood, choosing not to create conflict, she couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, her parents couldn't disagree more, controlling they way they were, they were more than satisfied to know that their daughter’s inner circle contained only close family friends’s children.

The Marauders were quite famous for their pranks since first year, Y/N always admired their courage and wit, but her siblings and friends didn’t share the same opinion. When she was around them she’d always get a look from her sister, her brother or her friends would push her away, which only made them more interesting. Although, with time, she stopped trying and just kept living her life the way her family wanted her to.

Until summer break before 5th year, at least. 

By then Sirius had already gained his bad boy reputation. Y/N had known Black for a long time, only by sight, his family was friends with hers and his cousin, Narcissa, hangs out with her sister, she’d see him in the pureblood elite parties they were forced to attend, they’d exchange glances but never talked. Sirius was once again being forced to go to some snobby party from snobby people. He couldn’t count in a thousand hands how many other places he’d rather be, but there he was sitting in a huge room full of people he despised, until a certain girl he recognised from other dinner parties and Hogwarts caught his attention, she was Remus’ partner in DADA, though he wasn’t sure, he never paid much attention in classes, pranking the student body was much more entertaining.

She caught his eye from a couch across the room. She was stunning, he thought, her slightly wavy H/C hair matching her S/C skin, freckled rosy cheeks and her alluring E/C eyes. Sirius only hoping she was different from the other brainwashed people in that house.

“Hey” Sirius said softly while he approached the girl that was, apparently, just as bored as he was, to his luck. “Not your scene, love?” He asked with his signature smirk on his face, wanting some good company for once at these afternoons.

“Not really” she chuckled, not knowing exactly what else to say, they weren’t close and she was a bit shy. But she was being honest, these parties were hell, full of families who thought too much of themselves, she didn't feel much like them, but she could fit in she was quiet and not nearly as loud as Sirius was about her beliefs. No one knew. 

“By any chance would you know whose death palace are we on? I mean it’s huge but it looks like Salazar himself lived here, it gives me the creeps” he paused laughing “and my house it’s not a Hufflepuff common room or anything” Sirius said mockingly, not knowing exactly who he was talking with.

“Well” she chuckled awkwardly “It is my parents’, but i know, it’s not very homey, looks like a dark theatre or something and Salazar did live here, family heirloom” she laughed for real this time, she didn’t take it as an offence, if anything she couldn’t agree more.

“How come we never crossed each others path before?” Sirius asked wondering why they never talked on one of those parties or at school.

“I guess I usually just stay in the corners, like today” she chuckled.

The two of them bonded after talking for a while, they discovered that both of them hated these things, Sirius couldn't get how she managed to hide her feelings so well, she looked so much like them. After laughing, talking about school, Sirius was a part of the infamous marauders, telling stories and joking around, for the first time any of them could think of, they had fun in a family party, since Sirius’ friends weren’t pureblood except for Potter but his family had been banished from the sacred twenty-eight for being “blood traitors” and Y/N’s friends’ parents kept them at their side the whole time for “good image”. 

Y/N stole a bottle of fire whiskey from the cellar and started showing the house to Sirius, while the two of them drank more than their bodies could handle, who was just as pleased as her for making fun of the paintings and carpets and the fancy but useless stuff their families valued so much. As they entered a room, particularly big and empty, Sirius had to catch his breath, Y/N and him started running through the halls before entering the room they were now on. He had only now realised that he had grabbed her hand, and apparently she hadn’t noticed until now too, making her blush furiously, releasing each other’s hand quickly and Sirius teased.

“getting comfy are we?” He smirked, as she blushed at his comment. They were very close, he could feel her breath catching. “Where would we be now, love?” He asked inching closer to her.

The both teenagers weren’t thinking straight anymore, the alcohol in their system already influencing their emotions. All they could think about, was how their touch felt electrical and the magnetic pull they were feeling towards each other, wondering how would their lips feel like. They just wanted to have fun, not caring about consequences that moment.

“Ball room” she said innocently but still a bit teasingly, not backing away from him as he inched closer to her “East wing, third floor, far away from where the party is going on, on the first floor” she bit her lip “But still very close to a room-” she said boldly wanting to see his reaction to her suggestions “-two doors away near a window at the end of the hall next to a beautiful painting of my favourite flowers” she said voice husky and breathy, making Sirius groan.

He chuckled low, “And may I ask you whose room is that?” They were now so close that their lips were slightly brushing.

“Why don’t you take me there and see for yourself” she said feeling a flip on her stomach and with a swift motion he lift her up bridal style, making her shiver at the contact, but then laughed, his hand gripping her body and legs tightly as he followed her instructions to get to her room. Once there, he settled her down on her bed and admired the girl in front of him, lust in his eyes. She smiled and bit her lip, she knew Sirius’ reputation, only one night stands, he was a ladies man, but she didn’t care, she wanted him, the fact that her mother would murder her if she ever found out only made it all more exciting.

Sirius took a look at the room, it wasn’t dark as the rest of the house was, it was still sophisticated, but nicer, the detailed wood on the wall was white and, above, the wall it self was light lilac, the room had big windows covered by delicate curtains and even had a balcony, and everything matched between the lilac and whites tones, she had a few paintings and pictures, and flowers, probably fake but still beautiful, the same flowers as on the darker painting outside, her four poster bed that matched the couches by the windows had delicate semi transparent white curtains and her silk white sheets were under a soft lilac blanket, she had a lot of silk pillows with subtle embroidered details on the corners, it was certainly appealing he thought, a beautiful room fit for a princess. Then he was brought back to reality.

“Do you think our parents are wondering where we are?” He asked with a still semi amazed look, it made her laugh, she patted the sheets next to her, inviting him to sit, he sat closely to her and then suddenly she went to the middle of the bed, which was big, pushing his wrists and they sat there, her legs crossed.

“They probably are” she affirmed giggly, she hadn't let his wrists go yet, she was holding it gently. “But, they won’t find us here, even though it’s pretty obvious that i’d hide in my room. Mom and dad wouldn’t leave the party” She paused and laughed “And well your parents certainly won’t come up here to my room i guess” He chuckled at her commentary.

“Well, well, miss perfect pureblood daughter escaping a dinner-party with the rebel Black son, who’d have thought” Sirius said dramatically, she laughed at him.

“Guess this Black here is just a bad influence on me, or… I just put on a good facade” she said more serious this time, voice low, eyes fixated on his. Her hand tracing their way up his arm, his gaze fixed on her movements. “And the fact that if mommy finds out i brought a guy to my room, and that he’s in my bed with me, would make her go crazy, only turns me on” Sirius let a little breathy moan escape his throat.

When Sirius looked at her she was already looking at him, lust all over her eyes. He trailed off just a little and asked, voice low “Y/N… are you sure you want this?” She nodded so he grabbed her waist and pulled her to his lap, he was holding her waist, lips brushing, he finally kissed her, the kiss felt electrical, it was slow and passionate at first but then I grew more heated. One of her hands was wrapped in his neck, the other was holding his chest going slowly lower, he was pulling her impossibly closer, the both couldn't get enough of each other. They had to pause for catching a breath, in the mean time Sirius leant over pushing Y/N down onto bed earning a tiny moan form her. They started kissing again, but this time was less passionate, more lustful and heated, Sirius started fiddling with her dress’ zipper and took it off slowly, undressing her, tracing kisses in each piece of newly exposed skin until she was only in her underwear, She, then, pushed his blazer off then started unbuttoning his shirt while kissing and sucking his neck making him moan. Once they were both in their underwear Sirius looked at her searching for a final consent, when she nodded, he took the rest of their clothes off.

“What do you want princess?” He asked kissing his way down from her cheek, to her jaw, neck, breasts and she moaned a little louder, the nickname turned her on even more. “Hmm??” He groaned waiting for her answer. “I want to her you say it”

“I… want you” she said between moans, after that she pulled his boxers down kissing him desperately, waiting to feel him against her in the most intimate way possible, the feeling was ethereal.

——————————

They laid in her bed legs tangled under the silk sheets, her head laid in his chest, his hands caressing her back while the other wrapped around her waist pulling her closer, making her shiver, the both of them catching their breaths while he stroke figure eights on her back inhaling her delicate floral floral scent. It felt heavenly to be there by his side, neither of them wanting to let go of one another, enjoying every moment before reality came back to them, but they knew they’ve been gone for too long, the party was probably ending.

“Sirius” she said voice as low as a whisper “This was nice” he smiled at her and pulled her to a kiss.

“Yes, it’s nice to have some fun in these events, and you love, are the most fun I could've had today” he said trailing his hand on her lower back “I mean, this is certainly the best place my parents could’ve dragged me to”. It made her chuckle. He never thought he’d fuck a girl his mother would approve and in one of their elite parties, but here he was, proof that Sirius Black always managed to corrupt girls, anywhere.

“Glad you liked it then” she said chuckling while she buried her head in his neck. But they couldn’t go on with this any longer. “You should go first” she said “Your parents are probably looking for you and it would be suspicious if we showed up together” she advised “Since the fact that we’re both missing from the party is already very much suspicious” she said laughing this time.

“Sure, love” he helped her get dressed before dressing himself and gave one last peck on her lips before getting out of bed. “See you” with a wink and that signature smile of his, he left, leaving her there with her thoughts about the events of this evening and the captivating boy, while rubbing her hands lightly where he left love bites on her neck, knowing she’d have trouble walking tomorrow and a bad headache from all the drinking. She decided it was best if she took a shower, changed into her pyjamas and if her parents show up there, she’d say she wasn't feeling well and wanted to sleep.

On his way back Sirius kept thinking about Y/N and how much they’re alike, she was the only nice person he met in one of those parties, she was a good kisser too. Starting to get confused on why he was thinking so much about the girl and the strange feeling she caused on him, but then assumed it was because of all the drinking, he didn't realise his mother, father and brother were waiting for him in the foyer and their faces weren’t kind, he knew it’d be a long night back home. But he didn’t care his only thoughts were about going back to Hogwarts and seeing her again.

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[wondernimbus]

crush — harry potter

pairing: harry potter x female!reader

prompt: harry works up the courage to talk to his crush.

please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

Unbeknownst to the girl sitting in the farthermost corner of the library, the sun has long since set in the horizon to give way to the moon that now hangs in the midnight blue sky. Numerous stars twinkle from up above, shining upon the Hogwarts castle; it paints a breathtaking, almost otherworldly view. One could glance up at the night sky for a brief moment and find themselves unable to tear their eyes away from it.

But the night sky is not what [Y/N] finds herself immersed in. What has her full attention—what has had her full attention for the past five hours now, is the book she holds in her hands: Mind-Boggling Mysteries in Magical History by Atasha Iqinn. It has nine hundred pages worth of exactly what its title states—strange mysteries in the wizarding world that have gone down in history for their oddity—and [Y/N] is already on page 783.

Just like every other weekend trip to the Hogwarts library, [Y/N] has spent a much longer time than intended in the vicinity of the countless bookshelves. She'd told herself that she'd only stay to read for a little while—two hours at most—but five have passed and [Y/N] still hasn't quite snapped herself out of her state of reverie. It's just so easy to lose herself in the abundance of books that Hogwarts has to offer; she'd pluck one out from a bookshelf, skim over its contents briefly, and if she found it to be interesting enough, she would sit down at her favorite table—the one right by the window in the farthest corner—and read.

And she would read for hours and hours until someone—most likely Madame Pince—tapped her on the shoulder and ushered her out.

Today, though, it's not Madame Pince.

—

"Stop it, Ron—"

"Come on, mate—don't be a wuss—"

"Shut up—I'm not being a wuss—it'd be weird if I just went up to her and—bloody hell, stop it!"

Ron stops dragging Harry by the arm and drops his hands to his sides. The pair of them are standing, very poorly hidden behind a bookshelf, near the Ravenclaw girl reading a book in the corner—the same one Harry has been helplessly crushing on for, what, two months now?

It had all started when Harry stumbled upon her in the Hogwarts Express in search for Ron and Hermione. He'd opened a random compartment door and, despite the fact that there were two other Ravenclaws in the compartment, she'd captured his attention first. Up to now, Harry can still vaguely recall the feeling of being dumbstruck by how—well—downright pretty she was.

Harry can't quite call it love at first sight, but he certainly does like her. Is "like at first sight" a thing?

Ever since that very brief encounter on the Hogwarts Express, Harry has only seen her around the castle once or twice. They don't have any classes together since apparently she's older than him by a year, but what Harry has noticed is that she is almost always in the library. 

So naturally, Harry has now become a bit of a bookworm as well. Not because of a love for reading, but because of a particularly pretty fourth-year Ravenclaw.

He'd pass by the library under the pretense of checking out a book just to catch a glimpse of her. He'd spend his free periods there reading the same book over and over just so he has an excuse to be in her presence, albeit he always sits at a table at least ten feet away from her. Ron and Hermione have, of course, noticed, but Hermione isn't nearly as insistent as Ron is being about it.

E.g. right now: Harry has quickly realized that bringing Ron along to the library had been a very, very big mistake. He'd been planning on doing his regular [Y/N]-admiring routine (Merlin, that sounds weird) today, but Ron keeps pestering him to go say hi to her.

Which, of course, is absolutely ridiculous. Harry has never even considered actually trying to befriend her, much less talk to her. He's content with staring at her from afar, thank you very much, no wonder how weird that makes him seem. He's not the type to make a move. Never has—never will be.

But Ron isn't quite helping with that. Harry swats his hand away when Ron makes a move to grab his arm again, presumably to physically drag him over to [Y/N].

"Bugger off, Ron," he hisses, taking a quick peek behind the bookshelf to look at [Y/N], who is still as engrossed with her book as ever. 

Ron snorts loudly. "Don't tell me you can face bloody You-Know-Who but not talk to a crush."

Harry scowls. "This is different." Ron has a point—but he's not about to admit that. "What if I asked you to go confess your undying love for Hermione?"

Ron's mouth falls open; it isn't long before his cheeks turn into a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. “Undying love?" he repeats incredulously, opening and closing his mouth like a fish blown out of water. "Undying love—that's ridiculous. I don't love Hermione—I don't like her either—that's just weird.. that's like liking—I don't know—McGonagall or something," he shudders dramatically, but the blush on his cheeks says otherwise.

Harry stares at his best friend, amused, and then reaches out to pat his shoulder. "Whatever you say, mate."

Ron frowns. "I don't—what—" huffing, he realizes that it would be better to just stay silent at this point. With his eyes skittering away, he mumbles something about "crushes.. Hermione.. bloody mental". 

Harry finally chooses a random book and removes it from the shelf—The Wizard's Cookbook by Ellis Ephodal. "Come on, let's sit—and for the love of Merlin, don't do anything dodgy.."

"Dodgy in what way?" Ron asks, carelessly plucking a book from a shelf that he and Harry pass by on their way to Harry's regular table.

"Don't start waving to her or something," Harry narrows his eyes at him, taking a seat on the chair facing [Y/N], who remains completely oblivious to the two Gryffindors whispering about her a mere few feet away. 

"Ha, as if you're not being dodgy," Ron mutters, sitting opposite him and flipping to a random page in his book. "Sitting here spying on her on a daily basis.."

It's Harry's turn to blush. "I'm not spying on her," he protests, his eyes momentarily darting to [Y/N] over Ron's shoulder. "I'm just.."

"Stalking her?" Ron snickers.

Harry shoots him a look. "No. Quit yapping, she might hear you."

Ron looks over his shoulder—or perhaps that's an understatement, because he quite literally twists his entire body around in his seat to look at [Y/N]. Harry gapes at him, reaching over the table to smack his head—and successfully doing so.

"Ow!"

From somewhere in the library, Madame Pince says, "Shhh!"

Clutching his head, Ron turns back to face Harry and glowers at him. "That hurt."

"Sorry," whispers Harry, but the deadpan look on his face makes it very clear that he doesn't mean it. "Did you really have to turn around like that?"

Ron rolls his eyes, still massaging the spot where Harry hit him. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. I could start stripping right now and she wouldn't even notice."

Once again, Ron has a point. But once again, Harry isn't going to admit that to him. The utterly focused look on [Y/N]'s face gives the impression that even if the castle were to start crumbling right then and there, she wouldn't even bat an eye.

Harry and Ron finally fall silent for a few minutes, but isn't long before Ron starts up again and goes, "You know what—"

Harry's eyes dart away from [Y/N] to look at Ron. "Be quiet."

Ron ignores him. "I'm tired of this. As your best mate, I'm telling her you fancy her." Without waiting for an answer, Ron slams his book shut with a loud thud ("Shhhh!" says Madame Pince's voice) and rises to his feet.

"What are you doing—"

"Being a good friend," says Ron matter-of-factly, rolling his shoulders back like he's about to get into a fistfight. "No need to thank me."

With gritted teeth, Harry's eyes dart around the library before he practically dives over the table and grabs Ron's arm, tugging him back down to his seat. "Sit—down—"

"Let go—"

Ron persists, but Harry keeps hanging onto his robes until the redhead finally groans and plops back down onto his chair. "Are you bloody mental?" asks Harry incredulously.

"Maybe, but at least I'm not a wimp!" Ron retorts, exasperated. "Grow some balls, Harry! You don't seriously think you'll ever get the girl if you just sit here staring at her every single day, do you?"

"I'm not trying to get her—"

"What, are you just planning to watch her like some creepy stalker the whole year? What'll you do if some random bloke comes up to her and asks her out? You're flipping Harry Potter—if anyone's got a chance with any girl, it's you!"

"Shhhhh!" chides Madame Pince more insistently this time, poking her head out of an aisle of bookshelves.

Ron gives Harry a serious look. In a quieter tone, he says, pointing his index finger at him, "You've gotta take your chances, mate. If you don't get up right now and talk to her, I swear to Merlin I'm telling her you like her—and you can't stop me this time."

Harry scoffs. "Oh, yeah? Try me."

Ron makes a move to stand up, but at a speed much quicker than lightning, Harry grabs his arm again and pulls him back down into his seat. "I was joking," insists Harry hastily.

"Didn't sound like you were," Ron remarks.

"I was," Harry assures him not-very-convincingly. And then, fidgeting in his seat, he looks at [Y/N] for a half-moment before leaning forward towards Ron and saying quietly, "You're being serious?"

"Hundred percent," Ron assures him, nodding fervently. "I could climb over this table right now and start yelling 'Harry fancies [Y/N]' at the top of my lungs, if you like."

Harry let outs a long breath, rubbing his forehead. "Jesus Christ.."

Ron crosses his arms and props his elbows on the desk, leaning towards Harry with his butt almost hanging off of his chair as he urges in an insistent tone, "Just do it, Harry. You fought off You-Know-Who twice—you can do anything. Come on."

As much as Harry hates to admit it, his best friend once again has a point—if Harry can fight off one of the most powerful wizards to have ever existed, then he can talk to a girl.. right?

Right?

"Alright, fine. To hell with it," Harry gets up from his seat, struck by a sudden burst of courage. "You're right. I can't just sit around here watching her all year—I'm gonna go talk to her."

"Brilliant!" exclaims Ron, clapping his hands together. "You've got this, Harry. Come on."

Clenching his fists, Harry takes a deep breath and starts walking towards [Y/N], whose eyes remain on her book. Throughout the five-second journey it takes for Harry to approach her, Ron keeps whispering hushed encouragements from behind him—"You're gonna ace this, mate, you're a champion". Harry almost turns around to tell him to shut up, but in all honesty Ron's little comments are egging him on, so he just lets him. 

Finally, Harry comes to a stop in front of [Y/N]'s table. He licks his lips nervously, and with his hands curled into fists at his side, he clears his throat.

She doesn't look up.

Oh Merlin this is going horribly wrong.

Harry tries again, this time reaching out to tap her on the shoulder. Finally—finally, she blinks several times, tears her gaze away from the book for what must have been the first time in hours, and looks up at him.

"Um, hi," Harry grins awkwardly, sliding into the seat opposite her. "I’m—I'm Harry."

She raises her eyebrows at him, obviously a little taken aback. Harry flushes and scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Um," he presses his lips together, grasping at words that won't come to him. "I've—I've been watching you."

It takes Harry a moment to realize how horribly wrong that must have sounded like. [Y/N] looks more taken aback than ever—a crease forms between her brows as she asks, "I'm sorry?"

"That came out wrong," he says hurriedly. "I meant to say I've been watching what you read. Unintentionally. You have.. really good taste in books."

With her eyes still narrowed suspiciously, she nods slowly. It's clear that she's still thinking about him telling her he'd been watching her. "Thanks..?"

Harry swallows, trying to ignore the panicky feeling inside his chest that screams at him to run out of there and never look back. Ron's words echo in his head: "You're a champion, Harry.. you can do anything.."

Shifting in his seat, he gestures to the book she holds in her hands and discreetly squints at the cover. "Mind-Boggling Mysteries in Magical History—yeah, great book," he comments much too enthusiastically, "Love that book."

She glances down at the book in her hands and lets out a light laugh—and yes, it's a very awkward laugh, but it's a laugh nonetheless. "It is," she agrees, eyebrows raised. "What'd you think about the Magical Menagerie chapter? I found that one really intriguing."

What the bloody hell is that, Harry's brain thinks, but his mouth says, "Oh, yeah. Loved that one. Really.. really mysterious."

Her eyebrows arch up even higher and she lets out another laugh. A real one this time. Marking the page where she left off, she closes the book shut, sets it down on the table, and folds her arms on top of it. "What if I tell you there is no Magical Menagerie chapter?" she asks, eyes twinkling.

Harry gawks at her.

Oh, I’m done for, Harry thinks to himself, already preparing to get up and run away. But then he hears Ron's voice inside his head again, "Come on.. you're the Chosen One.. shoot your shot, Harry Potter, slayer of You-Know-Who.."

He clears his throat and scratches his temple as if in thought, feigning a look of wonder. "That's funny," he furrows his brows, watching her reaction. "Last time I checked there was—maybe that one was a different edition.."

[Y/N] snorts slightly with laughter, the mischievous glint in her eyes turning into an amused one. "Sure. A different edition—let's call it that. Points for trying, though," she smiles a little. Harry thinks he's doing fairly well—the skeptical, suspicious gaze she'd been staring at him with earlier had turned into one of curiosity.  

"Now, is there a specific reason why The Boy Who Lived is trying to talk to me about books he doesn't seem to know anything about?" [Y/N] asks, tilting her head to the side, still smiling yet with her eyebrows raised expectantly. 

Harry gulps. Oh, yeah—he can think of a few specific reasons.

1. I think you're really pretty.

2. Scratch that: you're absolutely bloody gorgeous.

3. I might have a crush on you.

4. I really, really like you.

"Pick one, oh Chosen One," he imagines Ron's voice saying inside his head. As though he's been possessed by Ron Weasley, Harry blurts out, "I think you're really pretty."

[Y/N]'s eyes widen a little, eyebrows rising even higher. And then she laughs, and then says in a voice tinged with amusement, "Really."

Harry gulps again—he swears the sound is ten times louder than it usually is. "Um—yeah. Sorry," he adds, just because he feels like he's weirding her out. His entire body is burning up; he's probably turned bright red at this point. Yeah, now would be the time to leave. 

He moves to get up from his seat, mumbling something about having somewhere to go, but [Y/N] says, "Wait."

Harry pauses with his butt halfway off his chair, knees bent, and then he sits back down.

[Y/N] is smiling softly at him, lips slightly tugged up at the edges and her cheek twitching like she's suppressing a grin. And—Harry gasps mentally—is she blushing, or has he gone mad? 

"Thanks," she tells him, pursing her lips before adding somewhat bashfully, "For calling me—um—pretty, I guess."

Harry wipes his clammy hands on his robes underneath the table, letting his eyes skitter away because something about holding her gaze for too long is making him jittery. Pursing his lips, he mutters, "You're welcome. It's—well. It's true."

[Y/N] lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as though in disbelief. "You're one awkward bloke, aren't you, Harry Potter?" she teases, her eyes sparkling as she leans forward in her seat. "That's surprising, though. I've always pegged you as the arrogant type—you're 'The Boy Who Lived', after all," she grins at him, eyes flicking up momentarily to the scar on his forehead before maintaining his gaze again. "I suppose I was completely wrong. It's a pleasure to meet you—I'm [Y/F/N]."

She sticks her hand out over the table. Harry stares at it for a moment before he realizes he's supposed to shake it. Hurriedly wiping his sweaty palms on his robes again, he takes her hand; "Harry Potter," he grins rather awkwardly, shaking her hand for a brief moment before pulling away. He doesn't know if he's imagining it, but his hand feels tingly. (So does his heart.)

—

Two hours later, Harry stares up at the dark canopy of his bed, listening to the sound of rain falling outside combined with Neville's loud snoring.

For the first time in what seems like forever, normal teenage-boy thoughts are what render him unable to fall asleep. Not thoughts of Lord Voldemort coming back to life, not of Sirius Black hunting him down or of those hooded dementors—no, all that he can think about tonight is a certain Ravenclaw who had captured his heart ever since he saw her on the Hogwarts Express.

a/n: i had loads of fun writing this aaa as always feedback is very much appreciated!

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #harry potter x reader #hp x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #hp oneshot #hp oneshots #hp imagine #hp imagines #ron weasley #prisoner of azkaban #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sunday 28 May 1837

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very fine morning F67° at 9 am breakfast at 9 40 having been reading from p. 48 to 65 Africa being vol. 2 Edinburgh cabinet library – breakfast in 20 minutes and out at 10 – sauntering about – went down to Mytholm Ing – the 2 cows turned in this morning – 1st time – and the 5 horses (2 bays, old bay, gray and gin)all but the 2 ponies turned into the paddock (Godley top field) 1st time this morning – returned by Lower brea wood and the walk – found the 2 Manns at the meer – longish while talking to them – it was not Thompson but Halliwell father and son (the latter clerk to Messrs. P- and A-) that came last night – the father in partnership with a Mr. Thompson in building the cottages near the pine-apple – nothing but clay – these Halliwells queer people – not over good – the father was once journeyman to Matthew Booth shoemaker in the new bank, and the son did him out of £20 once by false swearing – would swear anything – was with Mr. Stansfield before he came to P- and A- and turned off for tattling – telling things out of the office – when the Manns went to consult Mr. Parker about the horse geer being stolen at Walker pit, it was all over the town the next day – nobody knew but the M-s and Mr. P- and myself except this little clerk who must have told as usual – I just observed that this opened my eyes – said I had been told not long ago Mr. Parker was no friend of mine    (by Mrs. George R- the last time I saw her of course did not mention her name) I now supposed something had transpired that P- was supposed unjustly supposed – to have told, which had probably told by this little clerk – in the stables and about till near 2 then wrote the above of today and off to church at 2 – set down Oddy and Sarah at the Crownest gate, and drove to Cliff hill – found A- and little Mary on the point of setting off in Mrs. AW-‘ carriage – saw Mrs. AW- for a minute and then drove off – in church 2 or 3 minutes before A- and her little niece – all sat in our pew – Mr. Wilkinson did all the duty – ¼ hour hearing the Sunday school boys say their catechism – an anthem took up 8 minutes – Mr. W- preached 21 ½ minutes from Matthew vi. 33 all returned in Mrs. AW-‘s carriage stopt a minute or 2 at the school – then to Cliff hill – while there A- went upstairs and wrote to ‘Mrs. Fenton, Royston Vicarage, Barnsley’ about a footman leaving them with a good character and likely to suit us – to come over – above an hour at Cliff hill – home at 6 ¼ - put A-‘s letter to Mrs. Fenton into the bag – walked to the Lodge – sauntered about – dinner at 7 – and coffee downstairs in the dining room till 8 ½ then out till 9 ½ -  sauntering about and talking to Bligh, orders for tomorrow – then assorting the last 2 months newspaper till 10 – at which hour F49 ½° - very fine day – wrote the last 10 lines – Letter tonight from Messrs. Gray to say the money (deducting A-‘s interest = £148.6.6) was paint into the Yorkshire District Bank at York

SH:7/ML/E/20/0068

to be placed to my account yesterday – paid in a bill at 14 days Discount to be allowed = ‘£15.18.0 which added to £17.6.7 the discount on the former bill will make £33.4.7’ – the Misses P- being again disappointed of the money will be glad if I will allow them to pay the 2 discounts by reduction from the interest in July – yes!  now let me turn carefully to my accounts and mind what I am about  finish jobbing as soon as possible