#Now that I'm half way through book 7

[backpackingspace]

I have lots of thoughts about jun wu treating xie lian a whole grown person like (his) a child

[shield-and-saber]

yeah, so i just finished cataclysm

[inkieun]

Twisted — Yeon Sieun x F!Reader

Walking home used to be routine. Easy. Safe. Now? Every step feels like a mistake. I clutch my backpack tighter each night, heart pounding faster with every echo of my own footsteps. There's this feeling that's clinging to me like a second skin that I'm not alone. That someone... is always just out of sight. Watching. Waiting.

cw: dark!sieun, noncon, stalking, yandere. (i can't think of anymore)

"I’ll see you guys tomorrow," I called out, my voice half-lost in the echoing corridor as I raised a hand in a lazy wave. My friends were still gathered by the stairwell, their voices fading behind me as I pushed open the door of the school.

The chill of late evening hit me immediately—a soft, biting wind slipping under my jacket like cold fingers. I shoved my hands into my pockets and started down the empty sidewalk, the sky already smeared with hues of deep blue and bruised purple. The streetlights buzzed to life one by one, flickering like old memories.

Instinctively, I glanced at my phone. 7:03 p.m.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. I hadn't realized how late it had gotten. Goddamn Mrs.Song, That woman could talk numbers into the grave. One second she was explaining quadratic equations, and the next she was diving into some off-curriculum tangent about non-Euclidean geometry like we were prepping for a university exam instead of just trying to make it through high school. None of us had the nerve to stop her.

The school's windows behind me still glowed faintly with sterile fluorescent light, but the building itself looked dead, skeletal. Most of the students had left long ago. My footsteps echoed as I passed the bike racks, the usual hum of teenage chaos replaced with unsettling silence. I was alone.

I tightened my grip on my backpack strap, my fingers curling instinctively, my pace picking up.

Lately, walking home alone in the dark had started to mess with me. More than it used to. There was this creeping feeling that hung to my back like a wet shadow. Like I wasn’t walking alone. Like someone was watching me.

I couldn’t explain it. Just this constant, crawling sense that a pair of eyes were fixed on me from somewhere out of sight. Behind a tree. Across the street. Just beyond the edge of a streetlights glow. And every time I turned around there was no one there.

I turned into the narrow alley a shortcut I’d taken a hundred times before, the path between two aging apartment buildings where the streetlights didn’t quite reach. 

Halfway through, I heard it.

Footsteps.

Behind me. Steady.

I froze mid-step, my breath catching in my throat. The sound stopped too.

I didn’t turn around.

Didn’t dare.

Swallowing hard, I forced myself to keep walking, each step heavier than the last. But the footsteps returned, matching mine perfectly like an echo with intent.

I quickened my pace.

So did they.

Panic clawed its way up my spine, my fingers tightening around my backpack straps as I moved faster, nearly breaking into a jog. The air felt colder now, thicker as if something unseen had crept into the alley with me, pacing just behind.

Then a hand yanked at my backpack.

I stumbled backward with a gasp, heart leaping into my throat, and spun around as a scream ripped from me—

“God! It’s me! Yeji!”

The familiar voice hit me like a slap of light in the dark.

My breath caught as my eyes adjusted.

There she was, wide-eyed and breathless, hands raised, startled by my reaction.

I didn’t know whether to scream again or punch her.

“You bitch, I nearly peed myself! What the hell are you doing?” I yelled, still trying to catch my breath.

Yeji just laughed. “You should’ve seen your face!”

She held something out. “You forgot this.”

It was my math textbook.

“You’ll need it to finish the crazy bitch homework—sorry, I mean Mrs. Song’s homework,” she added with a dramatic yawn.

I rolled my eyes, but took the book. “Thanks… I guess.”

“All right, I’m off. See you tomorrow!” she said, already turning away and heading in the opposite direction.

And just like that, she disappeared around the corner, leaving me alone again.

“I’ve really got to stop freaking myself out,” I muttered with a shaky laugh, trying to brush off the nerves as I started walking again.

I was nearly at the end of the alley when I suddenly heard someone yell—sharp, distant, and completely unintelligible.

I stopped and turned around.

No one was there.

Thinking it was just Yeji messing with me again, I shouted, “Yeji, get your ass home already!”

No response.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to keep walking and walked straight into something.

Or rather… someone.

A solid chest.

I stumbled back, heart lurching up into my throat as I looked up.

“Sieun…?” I said, startled.

He didn’t respond—just stood there, silent, his eyes unreadable.

“I didn’t know you lived around here,” I added, my voice a little too casual, trying to ease the sudden weight in the air.

It was the first time I’d ever spoken to him.

I’d seen him before—always alone, quiet, keeping his head down. The kind of guy who disappeared into the background. There were rumors, of course. About his old school. About someone who’d died. Some said he killed a student. No one ever proved it.

And now he was just… standing here. Close. Still silent.

I realized I was still staring at him and quickly looked away, checking my phone.

7:25 p.m.

“Shit,” I muttered. “I really have to go.”

I stepped to the side, intending to walk around him but before I could, his hand shot out and grabbed my upper arm, stopping me.

“Huh?” I said, startled, looking up at him.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked, confused.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Sieun gently took your hand, his touch soft but firm—too firm. His thumb began to slowly caress your knuckles in a way that might’ve been tender in another context, but here, in the dim, narrow alley with no one else around, it felt wrong. Too intimate.

I tried to pull my hand back. He didn’t let go.

His brown eyes locked onto yours, glassy and intense, shimmering with something deep—and off. It wasn’t just affection. It was…I couldn’t even describe what it was it just made my skin crawl.

“I…” he murmured, his voice low and breathy, his voice curling through the silence like smoke. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were someone special.”

I tugged on my arm again, harder this time. His grip only tightened.

“Your beauty,” he whispered, leaning closer, “your spirit, your essence... it calls to me in a way I can’t even describe.”

I tried to speak—tried to tell him to stop, to let go—but he lifted my hand to his lips before I could, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to my fingertips. His breath was warm against my skin, but it chilled me to the core.

“I want to love you,” he continued, voice trembling slightly now, but not with fear—with hunger. “Cherish you. Keep you safe from all the darkness in this world.”

I shook my head, stepping back, but he followed, holding your hand like a lifeline. His other hand hovered as if ready to grab my shoulder next.

“You are my everything, my love,” he said, his voice almost breaking with the weight of emotion. “I would do anything—absolutely anything—to make you happy. To keep you by my side.”

A pause.

“Forever.”

His eyes bored into mine—full of longing, desperation, and something darker. Possessiveness. Obsession. There was no softness in it anymore. Only need.

“Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered. “Tell me I’m not alone in this. This… desire. To have you and to never let you go.”

I yanked my arm again. His grip didn’t loosen.

“Tell me,” he said voice lower now, more of a demand than a plea “or I’ll show you how far I’m willing to go to prove it.”

“Sieun…” I said quietly, gently pulling my hand from his. The way his brow furrowed made my chest tighten, but I had to say it. “I’m sorry but I don’t feel the same way.” I hesitated, then added softly, “I need to go.” ” 

Sieun's expression darkened, his grip on my hand tightening to the point of pain as a flicker of anger sparked in his brown eyes. "What do you mean, you don't feel the same way?" he demanded, his voice rising in volume and intensity. 

He slammed his free hand against the wall beside my head, the force of it making me jump. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice. Don't try to deny it, You want me just as much as I want you."

Sieun leaned in closer, his face mere inches from mine. His eyes were wild, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "You can't reject me. You can't walk away from this, from me. I won't let you." His voice dropped to a chilling whisper, "I'll do whatever it takes to make you understand. Whatever it takes to keep you with me, where you belong."

“Sieun!” I shouted, panic spiking as I twisted in his grip. “Let me go!”

He didn’t. His fingers dug into my arm, holding me tight no matter how hard I fought. I kicked, shoved, clawed at his chest, but it only made him grip harder.

Then his hand snapped up, grabbing my jaw.

“No—” I tried to turn away, but it was too late.

His mouth crashed onto mine—forceful, uninvited, wrong. I froze, my heart slamming in my chest as his lips moved against mine, stealing my first kiss.

His other hand clawed at my waist, then my hair, dragging me closer, trapping me in a moment I never asked for.

“Please,” I gasped, tears burning in my throat. “Please stop…”

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I have to show you how much I love you…”

But the way he said it—it wasn’t to me. It was like he was trying to convince himself.

My body went still as I felt his hand at the hem of my skirt. “Sieun—” My voice broke as panic surged up my spine.

He didn’t stop.

I gripped his wrist, eyes wide, silently begging him. Please. Don’t.

But he didn’t look at me. Didn’t hear me.

Tears blurred my vision as I felt his fingers brush over my underwear, dragging slowly across the thin fabric, pressing where he had no right to be.

“No—please—” I choked, but the words came out soft, drowned beneath his breath and the sound of my own fear.

His mouth was still chasing mine, desperate, sloppy, ignoring the way I kept turning my face away.

And all I could do was try to leave my body behind.

Think of anything else. Somewhere else.

Anywhere that wasn’t here.

I snapped back to reality when something felt… off. A strange feeling crawled through me.

“Please…” I whispered, breathless. “Don’t…”

His lips ghosted over my jaw. “Don’t what?” he asked. “Don’t stop?”

And when his fingers slipped beneath the fabric and pressed harder—rougher—I shattered.

My body trembled as the climax hit, sharp and unexpected, pleasure crashing through me like betrayal. He felt it. Knew it. And still didn’t stop.

“Oh god…” I whimpered, dazed, body slick with heat and shame.

Sieun only smiled against my neck. “Now,” he said, voice low and reverent, “I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

He didn’t wait.

He spun me around and pressed me against the wall, the cold surface biting at my flushed skin. My palms slapped against it, trying to steady myself as his hands were already dragging my skirt up over my hips rough.

“Stay there,” he ordered, voice darker now. “Keep those legs open.”

Then he grabbed my soaked panties and yanked them down, letting them fall around my thighs. The air hit me, hot and cool all at once.

“Please stop,” I whispered, voice trembling. “What if someone sees us?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Sieun murmured, his breath hot against my skin. “Just focus on me.”

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t focus on him.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t pretend this felt right.

All I wanted was to be anywhere else—anywhere but here. 

I felt him behind me, his cock hard, hot, rubbing between my folds without mercy.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he growled. “You act like you don’t want this—then your pussy tells me everything I need to know.”

“Shut up,” I breathed, face pressed to the wall—but my body rolled back against him anyway, needy and desperate.

He grunted, gripping my hips hard, fingers digging into the soft curve. “You want to be used, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

He drove into me with one brutal thrust.

I cried out, my body jolting as he filled me—thick, deep, relentless.

“Fucking tight,” he growled through gritted teeth. “This is mine now.”

His hips snapped forward again, and again, slamming into me with no rhythm—just need. I gasped, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the room, my legs already shaking, fingers clawing at the wall for something to hold onto.

Every thrust forced a moan from my mouth, ragged and helpless.

“Say it,” he growled, one hand sliding around to grab my throat, pulling me back against him. “Say you love being fucked like this.”

I whimpered, his cock slamming into me again. My body clenched around him, wet and pulsing.

“Say it.”

“I—I love it,” I gasped, my voice cracking. “Sieun….please…”

He slammed into me harder, punishing now. “You take me so well,” he murmured into my ear, hips snapping forward again. “Like you were made for this.” 

His fingers found my clit again, rubbing fast and tight. I sobbed, hips jerking back into him as my body shattered.

My climax tore through me—raw and intense—my walls gripping him hard, my legs shaking, my cries muffled by the wall.

“Cum all over my cock,” he hissed, “God, that’s it… fuck—”

With a low, guttural moan, he slammed into me one last time, hips grinding deep as he spilled inside me, heat flooding me in thick pulses.

My body wrecked, his chest pressed to my back, breath hot against my shoulder.

Then slowly—his hand slid around my waist, pulling me gently into him.

“See?” he whispered, voice suddenly soft, almost tender. “I love you so much… You did so fucking good.”

But I didn’t feel good.

I felt hollow.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, silent and hot, even as he pulled out gently. He adjusted my underwear with care that felt too late, then turned me to face him.

His eyes searched mine for something I couldn’t give.

He leaned in, pressed a kiss to my lips—gentle, like that would erase everything.

Then he smiled faintly and said, “Okay. Let’s take you home.”

fin

© 2025 mymelllllinda

[hanoella]

I'll Be All Yours

Bucky x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning: SPOILERS for Thunderbolts, especially end credits. A little angsty!

You and Bucky have a different future ahead of you now. You want him to be around for it.

A/N: I moved and fell off the face of the earth ;_;. I'm sorry. But Thunderbolts has brought me back to life. Please enjoy!

Masterlist

It's quiet as you look away from your book, glancing out onto the cityscape. You hummed and closed your eyes. The afternoon sun was shining, rays falling through the large window panes of the Avengers common area onto your blanketed lap; The smell of your peppermint tea wafting in the air.

Bob looked up from his book.

"Feeling okay?"

You slouched as you stretched in your arm chair that was facing him. At least once a week you joined Bob in "book club"- which was less about discussing the book and more about just reading in peace together. A suggestion you had made when he was looking for things to keep him busy.

"Yeah, just enjoying the warmth," you replied, sitting back into the chair. He smiled and nodded before going back to his book. Though your efforts to relax were bound to be in vain as the voices grew louder through the automated door.

"It is a shield-"

"Shitty. Shield."

You let a large exhale through your nose and smiled apologetically at Bob, setting your book on the windowsill and bracing yourself on the armrests of your chair. He quickly got up and helped you up, blanket falling aside to reveal your protruding belly.

The first two trimesters had passed uneventfully. Your healing factor had made sure of that. The third trimester was different-you were starting to feel uncomfortable. Baby Barnes was not afraid of taking up space, stretching and shifting your spine and pelvis. The doctor suspected that the baby was measuring ahead in it's growth due to the serum it had inherited. But it was only an assumption, of which you could put little faith in as Bucky had assumed he was sterile from everything Hydra had done to him. It hadn't stopped you from using protection but obviously something had fallen through the cracks.

You hummed and squeezed Bob's shoulder in thanks before making your way down the steps to the sitting area. Bucky saw you coming and smiled furtively, reaching out to you as you sat next to him and put a supportive hand on his leg.

"Weren't you going to talk to him?" Yelena asked.

"I already did."

"And?"

"It went poorly," he said tiredly, eyes closing. You muttered a small sorry and started drawing slow circles with your thumb to comfort him.

"Did you know he filed for copyright of the name?"

Now his eyes opened.

"Did he?" He asked, half disappointed, half incredulous.

You moved your hand to his back and turned to face him as much as you could with your bump. Ignoring the chatter, you talk lowly into Bucky's ear.

"I'm sure there are more conversations to be had and you guys can settle-"

"What the hell are you wearing?" Bucky interrupted with his arm outstretched towards a very branded Alexei.

You could only smile and huff amusedly as the large soviet man in a brightly colored jumpsuit pitched "Avengers with a Z."

7 months ago you might've yelled alongside everyone else but ever since finding out you were having a child, you were feeling more centered. Maybe it was the impending due date, the crushing reality of it all, or the need for one of the two of you to not be freaking out, but either way you've been surprisingly calm and matter of fact about the whole thing.

It was... unexpected. A phase of life Bucky had stopped considering for himself a long time ago. And the timing of the new team, the New Avengers, hadn't been great either. He was just getting used to the idea of being in Steve's old shoes when you had found out you were pregnant. Now he was pouring himself into everything- the team, missions, PR, preparations for the baby. He was there, physically.

But having to make so many adjustments at one time was burning him out- hard.

It's not that Bucky wasn't happy about it. After the initial reaction, he was overall excited. He certainly loved you and would love your child too. You had no doubts he would be a great father. That much was evident. And you would relish the small moments-like when he laid a hand on your bump and talked to the baby when he thought you were asleep one night.

You just wished those moments would be more than just that- moments.

"Don't think I don't see you hiding in the corner!" Alexei shouted at Bob, snapping you back into the conversation. You looked over at Bob who had settled back into his book. He just shrugged at you, making you chuckle.

" -And I got you one!" Alexei exclaimed excitedly, turning towards you.

"Maternity size, special for you!" His hands were up and his wide smile beaming at you. You just smiled and nodded your head in thanks as Bucky ran his hands tiredly over his face.

"I'm sorry- how're you feeling today?" He asked, turning fully towards you and resting a hand on your back as you ignored the gut feeling you had while hearing Yelena saying something about a space problem in the background.

"I'm fine, honey. You look tired." You pointed out, turning the attention back on him. You cupped his face and ran your thumb through his scruff.

He grabbed your hand and leaned into it, closing his eyes and breathing you in before planting a gentle kiss into your palm. He didn't get to respond before the beeping started. Both of you got up and he moved to sit next to Yelena while you moved around back to stretch your legs and get a better look at the tablet that she was holding.

"You should get a satellite image." Bucky said gently to Yelena, his newfound mentoring side coming out. You rubbed his shoulders a little before he touched your hand and mouthed a thank you before turning his attention back to Yelena.

"And fire up-"

"And fire up the jets! I was just about to say that! ... Fire up the jets." She said into the tablet.

You held back a laugh and smiled fondly at her. She was shaping up to be a good leader. You didn't think much farther on it as Alexei's shouting at Bob broke your train of thought.

"I can't be the sentry without the other... side." He said defensively before sheepishly saying "I did the dishes though!"

You made eye contact and gave him a smile and a thumbs up which made Bob beam.

"Satellite image populating. Extra dimensional ship entering atmosphere."

Everyone got up to get a closer look at the projected screen. The ship slowly turned and you saw the number 4 painted on the side of the ship. Anxious with more questions than answers, you clutch Bucky's arm. Your wedding ring clinked against the black vibranium, barely audible, but extremely heavy on you all of a sudden.

"Alright everybody, let's go." Yelena said, starting the jog towards the door. Everyone followed except for Bucky, who you had held back with both hands.

"Just one second," you half pleaded, eyes flashing towards the door where Ava had paused. She gave you a quick nod before turning the corner. An understanding that you could have your moment, but the longer you took, the more consequences there may be.

"Maybe after all of this... you take a break. For the baby." You added the last part, though you know it was mostly for you. This is the first big incident since the life inside you had formed and it was only time before your iron facade started breaking away. You couldn't raise this baby alone. You just couldn't.

Bucky turned to face you completely, hand now out of your grasp as he gives your arms a squeeze.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. And then we can talk about it." He affirmed, searching your eyes for approval.

Few understood Bucky as well as you did. A man who made amends so that the guilt wouldn't eat him alive.

"The amends are starting to eat him alive too," you thought grimly before he put his hand on the side of your stomach. A moment passed before you felt a kick.

For the first time today he gave a genuine smile, albeit still twinged with fatigue, as he stared lovingly at your soon-to-be. He hoped to every higher being that they looked like you, so that he had more of you in this universe to love.

You bit your lip before taking hold of his hand again. You could hardly deny him. Him making amends allowed him to be here at all, you supposed. You'd rather have some of him than none. You recognizing that is the only reason this had worked for as long as it did. At all, really.

"Just... Come back safe... is all I'm asking." You say with a weak smile, hands coming back to rest on your stomach.

He sighed in relief before kissing your forehead.

"I will."

He walked briskly away a few steps before coming to a stop and running back, kissing you full on. Your heart fluttered as he held you steady, eyes open in surprise before closing in comfort. Pulling back, he rested his forehead on yours.

"Just until Yelena's ready. Then I'm all yours. I promise."

You take that in for a moment before nodding towards the door.

"Go. I love you."

"I love you too," he said, before giving you one more squeeze, running out the door to the hangar. You hug yourself and then your bump before letting out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

All you could do was hope that Yelena would be ready sooner rather than later. And that he'd come home, at all, after this.

[codnriddlewhore]

Don't do this | a Tom Riddle oneshot

A/N: HII soo this is my first attempt at fics, dont hesitate to say anything, good or bad

k have fun :))

tags: professor tom riddle/professor reader, marriage, angst, horcruxes, sorry if i forget any

wc: 1,584

They've been together, inseparable for 3 years, married for 2 and a half. 

Tom saw her as an equal as much as someone like him could, she entranced his very being. They talked about subjects he was interested in, in a very objective and intelligent way and he was in awe when he realised he found a match, someone that could understand his fascinations and obsessions. She mostly didn't share them but she was open, he could ask her at 2 in the morning which one of the unforgivable 

curses she'd use to get information from someone and she'd genuinely give it some thought. 

Her fascinations lay more in the zoological department, muggle and magical. She spent hours in forests and jungles, the beings holding her attention for hours. Though, like Tom, she found it hard to open up to people and find like-minded individuals not just regarding creatures but life in general. When he asked to come with her on one of her shorter research-trips, she felt her body and sould levitate. Her greatest wish has always been to grow old with someone loving by her side, someone who she'd love back with her whole self.  Is it him? She hoped so and prayed every night.

He felt the same when she asked about his sketches and faveorite books. Tom Riddle, the usually selfish and greedy man, suddenly interested in the eccentric and always joyful zoology professor? He cursed himself for it, a good 5 months before talking to her for the first time. 

Now she is staying at his home in the country, a dark penthouse by the sea. To be specific, it is not as dark now, he found that she brought more light into it than any possible lamp. 

As dreamy as this may sound, but like in every married life, there's always small and petty arguments. Like now, her sitting in bed and reading, not giving him half an ounce of attention while he looked at her from the doorframe. 

He mentioned horcruxes and the sheer idea of immortality a few times, even on the day they met, but she simply laughed it off. Who would want to be soulles? It seemed absurd. 

But yesterday evening, when he explained that he wants to go through with his plan of doing so, she couldn't bare to give him more than a gulp and ignorance. He was being mean.

"Apologise, so we can spend at least the evening as a couple. It's cold to sleep without you in my arms." Tom meant it genuinely, but his tone was rough. He didn't understand her problem.

She simply kept on reading, like he didn't even exist. He groaned in annoyance and that did it. 

"I'm sorry, did my back damage your knife in any way? Do excuse me", he winced and didn't know if it was because of her closing her book shut loudly or her words. Probably the latter. 

"What do you mean?"

She exhaled in confusion. Did he actually not see the problem? 

"Tom. You outright told me that you want to split your soul from your body and divide it into 7 different parts. Oh and that you want to live forever. Do you not understand why I'm upset?"

"I'm going to be honest, no, I don't. I find you're being ridiculous, this is a marvelous discovery. "

"Well it is, which on the other hand doesn't mean you have to partake in it!" she says as she sits up straighter in the bed. 

He sees that and mirrors her reaction, standong up straight and putting his hands in the pockets of his pyjama pants. 

"Why not? It would help me be more focused on my work and goals and I wouldn't be occupied with unnecessary matters."

"Like me?" His wife didn't know if she regretted saying that, but it came out in the same second he ended his sentence.

Quiet.

"Don't do this. Of course not like you, you matter a huge deal. This would benefit me in every part of my life, I'd be the most powerful wozard that ever lived. There's been noone else more powerful than Death in the history of wizardry and it could be your husband, how are you not the least bit proud?"

"Proud!? You want me to be proud!? What else should I do, throw you a party and congratulate you on a life of pure damnation!?"

She was now standing approximately 1 horizontal man away from him, on a good way to become furious. 

"Damnation? I hope you mean admiration and being seen with respect, fear and devotion for the rest of time."

"Tommy?" She only called him that when she felt truly helpless or frustrated.

"Yes darling?"

Her voice went almost inaudible, "Where am I in that wonderful way of living you so dream of?"

"By my side." He was sure of that and knew he needed her in this. She'd be his queen in the whole thing.

She breaks into a series of scoffs, some distrustful and some humorous, she found the situation quite absurb. What were they even discussing? 

"I'll age! I'll age and be old and grey and wrinkly and youll still be thirty! It'll look ridiculous."

Was it embarrassing he hadn't thought of that? 

"There's plenty of spells to slow down aging." Stupid Riddle.

"Great Havens. If we put that aside, what about your soul? You'll be a shell of the man you truly are. How do you explain that?"

"What? Thats foolish, I'll be myself!"

"You'll be a soulless man! Only goal driven and shutting out everything else! We'll never again talk about life and the universe late at night, you'll never again appreciate me making you tea when you forget the time in your study and we'll never joke about the future and raising an army of baby wizards who we'll name after the imaginary friends we had as children. We'll never go to the city again and you'll never pick out a flower I adore and buy it behind my back to surprise me later although I'd always catch you and we'll never buy cheesy and ironic books for each other in that beautiful old book store we love. Now call me crazy and soft, but I happen to cherish these things."

It was hard to look him in the eyes during saying all that, but she needed to get her point across. She also despised herself for tearing up at this very moment, walking towards him with a pointed finger.

"Tommy, I swore to support and love you in everything you do, but- but taking the soul of the man I love from me-", she hesitated, wanting to stop her voice from breaking and breath from hitching.

He gulped. This was unfair.

"Don't do this."

"-taking that; now that's too much for me. I can't stand behind that."

"You're being cruel."

"I'm not the only one."

That stung, it stung them both at the same time. In the end, they were both just people. She was now standing very few inches infront of him, pointing at his chest, barely holding herself together. 

"You know what? Do it. I wont stop you or hold you back. That was never my goal."

"I don't understand. Forst you can't stand behind it then you say go ahead."

"If this makes you happy, what I truly doubt, you'll do it without me."

That made his dinner almost come up slightly, it was never an option. 

"You can't just leave now, you know I love you. Do you not love me anymore? Is that what you're trying to say?", he knew it spounded mean but he hoped to get the point across, he was genuinely wondering.

"Oh don't twist this. I'll always love you with every part of me, body, soul, mind and all, as long as I live, that's why I can't-

that's why I can't watch you do this..."

"So what are you going to do? Just leave? You know you can't do that." He didn't quite believe that she would. Was it cowardly to start a fight rather than comfort her or express his own feelings? He'd have to look into that.

She breathed in, deeper than ever before. It was important that she stays collected now.

"Fine. I'll leave when you do it. That way you wont miss me."

Tom Riddle never got dizzy, he was too aware of his surroundings for that. Yet, now he was holding  onto the doorframe next to him with such strength, that his knuckles turned paper white. He was also afraid to touch her, even breath in her direction, because she might fully disappear already.

"You can't...you can't be serious..." It was more of a whispered plea than a threat. 

She on the other hand, felt that she needed to touch him or else this stupid boat of too many emotions for both of them would sink to the bottom of the deepest point in the ocean. His cold cheeks warmed at the touch of her palms. In that very moment he also exhaled briefly, still finding deep-rooted comfort in her, even at this time. Her eyes filled with tears, to the brim this time and she ignored them, it was no time to sob now. Her right hand caressed his hair; like it was any other moment they shared before.

"I'm sorry Tommy. I really wanted us to get grey and wrinkly together."

to be continued...

[cosmerelists]

Who Should Be The First Stormlight Character to Say "Fuck"?

As requested by @cosmereplay :)

[THIS POST CONTAINS WAT SPOILERS!]

In Wind and Truth, Lift used "shit" as a swearword, so apparently real-world swears on now on the table in Roshar. So in the back-half of Stormlight Archive, who should be the first character who says "fuck"?

1. Zahel?

Zahel: What, me? Why? Because I'm grumpy all the time? Zahel: Fuck that. It's not even a color. Zahel: ... Zahel: Shit.

2. Gavinor?

Gavinor: I think that if any character deserves to be the first, it's me. Gavinor: I just returned from Trauma Hell and watched my grandfather kill himself. Gavinor: If I don't get to look Odium--sorry, Retribution--in the eye and say "fuck you," then what's the point? Lift: Proud...but also sad. Is this what it's like to be a parent? Gavinor: YOU'RE YOUNGER THAN ME

3. Navani?

Navani: Not to turn this into the trauma olympics, but... Navani: [Counting on her freehand] I'm encased in crystal, I don't yet know my beloved husband is dead, I don't yet know that I failed to rescue my grandson, I don't yet know that most of Roshar has been lost, I don't know that my daughter is traumatized, I don't know that my nephew is trapped in another city and lost his leg and went through hell, I don't know that my daughter-in-law has been lost off-world... Navani: If I wake up and don't whisper "fuck" when I hear everything that's going on...

4. Kaladin?

Kaladin: To be honest, I think I'm too pure to say "fuck." Kaladin: "Storms," which is definitely NOT the same thing, is good enough for me! Syl: But consider: "Fuck it. We ball." Kaladin: ... Kaladin: I can see it.

5. Shallan?

Shallan: Oh, I'll definitely be the first. Shallan: I like to push cultural norms. Shallan: I'm trapped in Shadesmar and probably pregnant. Shallan: [inexplicably wearing sunglasses all of the sudden] "Fuck" is about to be my favorite word, I bet.

6. Jasnah?

Jasnah: I care too much about how I present myself and how I am perceived to use an off-world, vulgar epithet. Jasnah: Unless, of course, I'm now so broken by losing a debate against Odium and letting Thaylenah fall... Jasnah: Which undermined my entire sense of self and proved myself incapable at the very things I believed made me worthwhile... Jasnah: Then, maybe, just maybe... Shallan: Is it wrong that you've never been hotter? Jasnah: YES

7. Adolin?

Adolin: [considering] Adolin: I think I'm a "fuck yeah" type of person. Adolin: Maybe we can make that, like, the catchphrase of the Unoathed! Notum: Maybe we won't do that. Adolin: You're no fun.

8. Moash?

Moash: Why are we pretending that any of these straightedged, goody-two-shoes protagonists are capable of introducing "fuck" to Roshar? Gavinor: Excuse me? Moash: Please, you're going to be crying the whole next book, I bet. Moash: I'M the edgy one. I'M the guy who dyed his Bridge 4 uniform black just to look cool. Moash: If ANYONE is saying "fuck" for the first time, it's ME. Moash: Because there is NO ONE in these books who is as ANGRY or as EDGY or as BAD as me! Blackthorn Dalinar, raised from the Spiritual Realm and probably coated in fire or something: [waves] Moash: CAN SANDERSON PLEASE MAKE ME RELEVANT AGAIN

9. Sigzil?

Sigzil: Look, it's definitely not me. Sigzil: If I wasn't saying "fuck" at any point while on Canticle, then it's clearly not a word in my vocabulary.

10. Lift?

Lift: Sure, I introduced the word "shit" to Roshar. Lift: So you may think--"Oh, of course it's just gonna be Lift again." Lift: And I get it. I'm fucking awesome that way. Lift: But consider. Lift: Somethin' is going down. Something bad. Something horrible. And all the sudden we cut to Wyndle, and he just whispers, "Oh fuck." Lift: ... Lift: I don't think the world would recover.

[hello-gloomy]

Not Everyone Is a Genius

Dr. Xeno Houston Wingfield x Neutral!Reader

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

Description: You be honest to Xeno to what's on your mind and his answer surprises you.

Warnings: Slight angst, mild horny, SCIENCE, maybe OOC of course. SPOLIERS FOR THE MANGA.

A/N: If your not far in the manga or season 4 anime deffo don't read this it's probably only mild Mentions of stuff but still just to be safe, also Xe might be a bit OOC.

Word: 700

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

"What are you doing?" Xeno asks as he walks entirely inside your shared bedroom to get a better look at your current position on the floor. Your back is against the floor, and your legs are pressed upwards against the wall. You twist your head away from the book you were writing to look at him; you don't feel as dizzy as you would be if you were hanging upside down.

"Letting the blood rush down my legs so they don't hurt, " you deadpan, tiredly. All this moon mission madness has everyone working to death 24/7 with hardly any breaks, and it's starting to get exhausting. But nobody has the heart to ask the science group to slow down a bit, especially not since everyone is finally on good terms with Stanley after the original debacle.

He hums while removing his gloves and setting them on the dresser near where you lie. "Elevating your feet allows gravity to reduce excess fluid from your legs back into your heart," he starts, and you can't help but smile at his small lecture, his voice soothing your stress-induced headache. Closing your eyes and breathing deeply, you let him move around the room and finish talking about the benefits of your actions, swaying you into calmness. You only open your eyes when you hear him groan quietly and sit down upright against the wall where your legs rest, his bare hand smoothing over the skin of your calves, then to the swell of your thighs, and lastly to your sternum. You throw a hand over your face and let out a little whimper at his touch.

"How was your day?" he asks quietly, continuing to rub your legs. You sigh through your nose and uncover your eyes to look at his pale face, tracing your eyes over the 'X.' marking its upper half; you chew your lip before mumbling out a half-assed 'fine' to him and turning your head away.

"Did you know your heart rate increases when you lie?" he asks, subtly rubbing your wrist now, which makes your heart jump in your chest more so than when you lied to him.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong, or should I go about this using a trial and error method as I usually do?" He puts his hand beside your head, leaning over you and giving you options.

"I'm tired, Xeno," You blink back the tears before continuing, "So fucking tired and in pain. This space mission you guys have planned is draining; I know it may not seem that way to all you science guys in the lab, but to all of us that you have been doing all the manual labor for this project is getting exhausting, not just me but for everyone as well. Morale is low, and it's getting harder to ignore." You vent, your body aching just thinking about the rest of the endeavor you must deal with; you spare him a glance and see him watching you intently.

"I'm sorry." You snap your head up in surprise and slip your legs off at the words that just came from him; he moves to hold both of your hands in his, rubbing at them before looking back up at you.

"I'll talk to Senku and the others about taking a short break for morale." You blink in surprise, taken aback by how easily he came to this conclusion. He laughs lightly at your reaction before pulling you in for a kiss. This was a different man from the one you knew a few years ago, and it made you happy to see him changing for the better, mellowing out a bit for your sake. You wipe your eyes before pressing your forehead to his and smiling at the man you chose to fall in love with.

"Would you like to take a bath, my dear?"

"In a 'horny' way or like 'I'll take care of you' kind of way?" You jest gently, and he, in turn, covers his mouth in silent laughter.

"Whichever gets you to produce plenty of oxytocin."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me." He starts full-on dying at that.

[selfproclaimed-moviecritic]

From Across the Hall- Doctor Robby x Reader: Part Two

Part One is here !

Summary: You have a little movie date at his apartment a week after he patched you up (ya'll get freaky on the couch.)

Warnings: AU. PWP. Smut in the following forms; Fingering, Robby has a dirty mouth, Daddy kink >:), one singular pussy spank, lots of grinding on each other, pussy pronouns, your wrists get tied up with his belt (idk how to tag that), teasing, darker version of Robby, degradation, reader gets called a slut, Robby is a GIVER, Reader does have hair that can be pulled, idk there's probably more but I'm not all that concerned about it.

Authors notes: *Reader can be any size, race, ethnicity, etc. Reader does have tattoos, but they are not mentioned in this chapter.* Once again this is a darker version of Dr. Robby that I think is interesting. My man has demons ok??? So what if they come out in a sexual manner he has NEEDS. Anyways, I wrote this part when I was sick in bed so hopefully its good idk. It ends on a bit of cliffhanger, enjoy!!

Unfortunately for you, the next few days were devoid of any encounters with Dr. Robby. You both were working different hours at your jobs. You were pulling extra shifts at yours and you knew that the shifts at the hospital would be sometimes 16 hrs to 24 hrs long. About a week after he had patched you up, you were leaving your apartment and noticed a note attached to your door. 

"Birdie, I haven't forgotten about you. Been busy at the hospital as you can imagine. Tomorrow I'm off. If you're not busy, come over around 7:30pm. Let's watch a horror movie if you're up for it." -R 

You smiled widely. You fish a pen out of your purse and flip the note over to write a reply. 

"Lucky for you I'm off tomorrow evening. I'll be over. Horror movies are my favorite, how did you know? ;) I'll bring the popcorn!" 

You signed the note with a little tiny drawing of a bird, and taped it on to his door. 

You made your way down the stairs with an extra skip in your step. You had honestly been worried he had forgotten about you. He had been taking up space in your late night fantasies. 

The way his cock felt against you when he pulled you close. His large hands moving all down your body. His deep, gravely voice in your ear. The way he manhandled you over to him. It was turning you on now just thinking about it. You take a deep breath as you head out of your apartment building to try and reset yourself before work. 

The next day and a half you spent in eager anticipation. When you got home from work the day you were going over to Robbys, you spent extra time in the shower, making sure you were nice and smooth and smelling absolutely delicious for him. You lathered on your favorite lotion afterwards.

After putting on a bit of makeup, you decided to wear a Jason Voorhees crop top and some tight black cloth shorts over to his house. You made some popcorn, tossed it into a bowl, and grabbed two bottles of some cheap beer, and headed over to his house at around 7:35pm. 

You knocked on the door, and he quickly answers. He opens the door and gives you a smile. "Hey there Birdie." You look up at him through your eyelashes and give him a flirty smile. "Hey Doctor Robby. Are you ready for our date?" You wink at him. He gives you a smirk and opens the door wider for you. You slink past him and he watches your ass sway as you walk past. 

You set the popcorn and beer on the kitchen counter. He follows you over. You peer around his place, taking note of everything. You hadn't been in there before but it was cozy. Across from the kitchen was the living room. He had a large TV with a nice speaker system. A dark brown, L shaped leather couch adorned with some pillows. A black table was placed in between the TV and couch. Various medical books and magazines were strewn across it. 

The walls in the living room were decorated with various concert and movies posters. Most notebly, a large vintage poster of 'the Silence of the Lambs'. You squint at it. "Holy shit, is that signed?"  You point over at it.

Robby leans against the counter next to you and laughs. "Yeah I got that signed years ago. I was in Chicago for a medical conference. A local theatre nearby  was playing the movie for its 10 year anniversary and the director-" You grab his forearm and gasp. "You got to meet Jonathan Demme!?" "Yeah, he was really cool and was signing posters. Figured I would snag one. It's one of my favorite movies." You let go of his arm and give him a little playful push of his shoulder. 

"Can't believe you got to meet him. That's one of my favorites too! I would have asked him a million questions." He smiles then moves to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. "I bet you would." He says a little quietly, but his voice is deep and rough. A small shudder runs down your spine. You need him. Bad. 

His fingers move from your ear down past your jaw and slowly move down to your lip. They stop there and his thumb grazes over your lip. "Your lip healed pretty nicely. Sorry I didn't get to check in on you last week. Work was hell." You peered into his eyes and saw a quiet pain he held there after mentioning work. You bring your hand up to his wrist, and move your chin further into his hand so now his thumb and index fingers gripped your chin.  

"Let's forget about work. What movie are we watching?" He gives you a small smile. "Let's go look at our options." He brought his hand away from your chin and took you by the arm. 

You both settle on to the couch. It was extremely comfortable, and you could picture Robby falling asleep here after a long shift, the blue glow of the TV filling the room late into the night. 

He turns the TV on, and you both make casual conversation about which horror movies you like.  Which ones are actually scary, which are overrated, and ones you think should have more popularity. You both decide on Halloween (1978). 

The movie starts and you both focus on watching it for the first 30 minutes. Robby slides his hand behind you on the couch and spreads his legs a bit wide to get comfortable. You can't help but take occasional side glances at his bulge. It's so prominent in those cargo pants he always wears. You're so horny and it doesn't help that you picked Halloween. The thought of Michael Myers man handling you always gets you aroused. 

After about another 15 minutes, you decide to scoot a bit closer to him, and fold your legs up underneath yourself and to the side. Your body is facing towards him but your head remains facing the screen. Robbys arm leaves the side of the couch it was on, and it falls to your outward facing thigh. It's so large and warm. You bite your lip, hoping he wouldn't notice. 

A few more minutes go by when you hear him clear his throat. "It's kinda cold in here, why don't you come a little closer?" You turn your head and he pats beside him, with his eyebrow raised. You give a small smirk and slide further over. Although before you stop, he grabs you by your bicep and hauls you into his lap. 

He brings you in close to his chest, your foreheads within a few inches of each other. Staring into his eyes, you see they're almost pitch black. Gone are his soft, kind brown eyes. This is a side you've never seen but got a small glance of the other night when you felt his hard cock against you. But you like this side too. A lot. 

"Now I know you didn't come over here dressed like this to just watch a movie. These shorts are something else." He pinches the bottom hem and snaps them against your skin. You whimper and move your legs around his waist so you're straddling him now. 

You grind yourself softly down on his bulge while you place your hands on his broad shoulders. "I figured I owed you one after you patched me up." His hands travel up your body, one makes it up and into your hair. He gives it a tug, exposing your neck. "That's right, don't want to forget to pay your doctor bill." You smile and continue to rock your hips against his increasingly hardening cock. 

He begins to kiss and nip at your neck, all while his one hand grips at your hair to hold you in place. His other hand makes his way underneath and up your shirt. 

He growls a little in your ear at the feeling of you being braless. "Oh Birdie.....no bra? Such a dirty girl." "Didn't see the point in putting one on when I knew you were going to take it off anyways." You whimper.

He flips up your shirt to expose your tits to him. You continue to slowly rock your hips, grinding up and down his clothed cock. You were getting increasingly more desperate for him.

He leans forward while looking into your eyes, and brings his hand down from your hair to your lower back. You arch into it and moan as he brings his mouth to one of your tits. His other hand leaves your hip and gropes at your other tit. He swirls his tongue around your nipple, as he pinches the other one. The sting of the pain feels so good. He knows exactly the right amount of pressure to apply. With the hand on your back, he helps guide you on rocking back and forth against his cock in his lap.

His mouth leaves your tit and goes back to your neck. Giving you sloppy, wet kisses. "Goddamn baby, fuckin perfect tits. Every inch of you is so fuckin incredible." He mumbles into your neck. His beard against your skin causes a shiver down your spine. You lift your hips and he slides your shorts down your thighs, along with your thong. You stand up for a second to fully take them off. You step out of them, then go back to straddling him. You peel your shirt off and toss it aside. You were getting so worked up, so you decide to work one of your hands into his waistband.

"Uh uh Birdie, give me those hands." He says roughly. He grabs your wrists and tugs you forward. He lifts his hips and with his other hand, rips his belt off in one motion. He wraps the belt around your wrists and hands, securely it tightly. "You don't get to use them anymore." He says sternly.

He flips you over so your back is now against his chest. Robby settles down into the couch with you snug in between his spread legs. His hard cock against your lower back. You swear you can feel it occasionally twitch against you. His nose pokes the side of your ear as he leans in and whispers. "Spread those legs for me, nice and wide." You whimper and spread them for him, the leather underneath you is a little cool on your skin but it feels good. You feel like you're burning up with how worked up you are. 

He positions your tied up hands right above your naked mound. Teasing you with how in proximity you are to where you needed touched the most. He settles his hands on your thighs, spreading his fingers out to squeeze the tops of them tight. He settles his head on top of your shoulder so he can see the view in front of him. He takes a deep inhale, and then lets out a big sigh. 

"Fuckkk look at you. Ever since you moved in I always wondered what you would look like all spread out for me." The thumbs of both his hands start to graze back and forth on the inner parts of your thighs. You arch your back a little and whimper. "Really?" you ponder. You wiggle your fingers a bit, desperate to try and touch yourself. Craving even the slightest bit of pleasure. He may have tied your wrists together but you can still move some of your fingers.

"Oh Birdie....The things I've been wanting to do to you...." He begins to kiss your neck again, leaving a few hickeys in his path. You let out another small whine. You find you are able to move your middle finger down a few inches from where your hands rest. But right as you're about to circle your finger over your clit, your arms are jerked back. A sudden swat to your cunt has you seeing stars. You initially gasp but it turns into a moan towards the tail end of it. 

"Now that's not being much of a good girl is it?" He growls deeply into your ear. "That's real fuckin bad girl behavior. Touching yourself before I even can. Fuckin greedy if you ask me." You lean your head back against his chest and whine a little. "I'm sorry I'm just-" You bite your lip in frustration. "Just want you so badly" you voice is breathy and full of desperation. 

He pushes his cock against your lower back. "Aw, that desperate for me huh? So needy Birdie my goodness." Your eyes flutter at the feeling of his hard bulge pressing into you. "Gonna need you to apologize again for getting ahead of yourself there." He's purposely taunting you, making you crave and desire him even more. You nod your head and try to look up at him from where you rested against him. You decide to take a chance with what you say next. "I'm sorry Daddy, it won't happen again." 

A gutteral moan leaves his throat as the word "daddy" leaves your lips. You feel his cock twitch and his grip tightens on your thighs. Enough to leave marks. "Fuck you're filthy. Calling me Daddy while you're sitting in my lap like this. It's taking everything in me not to just hold you down and fuck you senseless." His right hand moves up from your thigh to your mouth. "Open your mouth for daddy". You obey and he sticks his index and middle inside. You twirl your tongue around them, getting them coated in spit. Drool leaving your mouth. You moan around him. This isn't your first rodeo that's for sure. 

He rips them out of your mouth and places them immediately on your clit, with more pressure than you were expecting. It causes you to arch you back and moan loudly. "Let me hear those pretty little noises I know you can make baby. Don't be shy now. I know a cockslut when I see one." He rumbles in your ear. His fingers are circling your clit in such an expert manner that your mind is devoid of any thoughts, just focused on the immense pleasure you're experiencing. "Didn't even really need you to wet my fingers. Your pussys already dripping all over my fucking couch." 

You try your best not to move too much but the way his fingers work your clit has got you practically writhing in his lap. You rest your head on his shoulder and are almost panting from how good everything feels. You're already on the cusp of an orgasm from how worked up you've been since you got here. His hand that was on your thigh moves to your slit. 

While his one hand works your clit, the other teases your wet slit, back and forth. Back and forth, painfully slow. "Mhmm Birdie. Bet you're desperate to be filled right now huh?" He whispers in your ear. All you can do is moan in response. "That's what I thought. Little slut like yourself just wants her holes filled any way she can." 

The degrading nature of his words is not something you ever expected from him. You had other people degrade you before but something about it coming from him felt different than all the others. 

"Let's give your little pussy what she needs." He then takes two fingers and slowly, achingly inserts them inside you. "Oh fuckkk" you groan, and draw out your words, then twist your lower half a little. The feeling is incredible. 

"Goddamn you're tight." He mutters to himself, starting to pump his fingers in and out of you, all while still circling your clit. "Feeling full yet Birdie? Wasn't sure if a slut like yourself can be satiated by just my fingers but I'm now I'm not so sure with that look on your face." 

Your eyes are shut and your mouth is hanging open. "I'm...I'm close..." You whine. He laughs cruelly in your ear. "Already? But I've got so much more planned for you." He starts to move his fingers in out of you faster, the sounds filling the apartment are absolutely obscene. 

He then curls his fingers hitting that particular spot inside you that makes you see edges of white around your eyes. "Fuck!" You shout and writhe against him. Your arms still confined against you. Unable to grip anything, you dig your fingers into your palm. 

"You better ask for permission before you come Birdie." He is so commanding with his voice, even thought it's just a deep whisper in your ear. You shake your head. "Can I come for you daddy?" You breath out. You feel him grin then groan against your ear.

"Come for daddy, wanna feel this tight cunt squeezing my fingers." Your eyes widen and your orgasm hits you like a freight train. 

"Holy fuck!" your eyes flutter and your body shakes with pleasure. Your orgasm rolls through you, and Robby whispers in your ear, talking you through it. "Goddamn you look so good coming undone. This tight little hole clenching around me, your pretty moans. Your beautiful body." He slowly slips his fingers out of you, and brings them up to his mouth for a taste. 

"Jesus Christ you taste so sweet." He licks them clean.  You're still ruminating in the afterglow of your orgasm, and he undo's the belt around your wrists. You move your hands, rotating your wrists in circles. 

You both don't say anything for a moment. You move out of his lap to rest your head on a pillow that's at the opposite end of the couch. You just need to catch your breath for a moment. 

"That was....fuck that was insane." You let out a little huff of a laugh, and move some hair out of your face. He cocks his head to the side. "Ready for more?" You shake your head up and down and he grins. 

He moves from where he was sitting, to now being on top of you. He lines up his face with yours and he kisses you, more tenderly than before. Not as rough, more gentle and soft. You once again rock your hips a little against him, his stiff cock rutting up against you. He's still fully clothed. 

He breaks the kiss, and looks into your eyes. "Time to get another taste of ya." You grin, and he kisses you again, then slowly makes his way down your body. His hand traveling down and across your torso, feeling every inch. Squeezing every part. His beard is rough against your body but it tickles your skin in the most delicious way.

Just as he's about to settle in between your thighs, you hear a vibrating noise. 

You both look over to the table beside the couch. It's his cellphone, the caller ID says 'Jack Abbot'. He sighs and sits up. "I'm sorry Birdie I gotta take this."

To be continued in Part 3! <3

[littlest-w01f]

7 or 56 FOR ALUCARD !!!

a/n: already did 7 for Granny, sooo :) I'm so sorry... I was aiming for fluff, but this turned angsty... brb gonna genuinely kms...

Platinum Blonde!

56– playing with their hair

Alucard drabble

Maybe it is a little selfish of you to enjoy being the one seeing his hair turning grey with yours—well, platinum blonde—to see Adrian age like many others can never. But you can't help it.

He rests against you as you run your hand through his hair, massaging it gently, parting the thick locks to discover the new shade growing in, slowly but surely replacing the vibrant blonde.

Yours too grey with age, already covering your temples, and those few little strands that always escape your braid at the top of your head.

He reads a book as you look through his hair like it's your favourite pastime, perhaps it is, and so is rubbing in some oils for a healthier growth.

Holy fuck you are like your grandmother... Remembering how she used to go on and on about the perfect way to take care of your hair, or you would end up bald by your thirties, but look at you now! Have a head full of healthy hair when you are over forty.

"Mmmm... Yes, there's an itch there..." He shoves his head into your hands, letting out a relaxing hiss.

You chuckle at the sound, letting your nails scratch his scalp gently, "Here...?"

"Mmhmm..." He responds, the book he was reading forgotten in his lap, as you run your fingers through his hair.

With a playful grin, you gasp, "Oh God! A grey hair!" You pull at the pale strand.

Adrian shoots up with speed, body turning red with it as he glares back at you, looking at the strand, "IT'S PLATINUM BLONDE!"

You hold your stomach as you start laughing, falling back into the grass, laughter coming out in bursts of giggles.

You only stop laughing when he lies on top of you, crushing you under him and pressing his lips to yours, "Hush. It's not that funny."

Smiling, you reach out to trace his face, still so full of life in the three decades you had been together. Best friends. Lovers.

And just like that, the dread that's been in the pit of your stomach for a few years climbs back in. He looks the same. Yes, he is changing, but he looks the same. He will be for the next century. And a century further wasn't in your lifespan.

You would die. Unless he turned you, of course, which was a future you did not want.

You loved growing up. Until you realised he would not grow with you.

He had lovers before you, and he would go on to have more after you. He had loved before you, and you had before him, too, but not in tens and twenties, or however many.

You didn't know why you cared now, you wouldn't be here when he eventually moved on. When will he move on? A few weeks after? A month? Half a year? Maybe two? Just a couple of decades more and you—

When he pulled you in, you couldn't even tell you were crying, sniffing softly into his chest as he now sat atop you, holding you close, "What's troubling you, love?"

You could burden him with your worry, tell him what hurts you, but there was no rational answer to your worry. It was the way of mortal life.

"Nothing... I just, guess..."

I'm getting old.

I will die, and you won't

I will die.

[deusfoundry]

Hii again, sorry if I'm asking for a lot of Cedric requests (you can ignore this if you'd like). But there's this idea that's been plaguing my mind, where Cedric has always been told he has a lovely, charming, or beautiful smile that brightens up people's day or anything of the sort. But to him he doesn't really know what people mean when they say that. Until he sees reader's smile that just instanyly brightens up his day. "7 billion smiles, but yours is my favorite"

Thank you for reading thiss

hi nonnie! im assuming you're also the one who sent the ced request i got prior to this one and if so, please dont apologize!! i truly adore this man and i love writing for him! i hope i was able to do your prompt justice w this one eheh MWAH <333

if cedric's got a sickle for every time someone has told him he had a pretty smile, he'd be bloody rich by age fourteen.

he's heard it from everyone. from strangers on the street, older men with a head full of gray hair seeing a reflection of themselves decades ago in his youthful eyes. from letters he'd find slipped into his bag, secret admirers waxing poetic about his smile, how it had been enough to make the hour and a half they spend in snape's class bearable, how seeing him from across the great hall at dinner was the one thing they look forward to the most.

he's heard it first, and perhaps most often, from his own mother, who'd take his cheeks into her hands and look at him as if she's holding the entire galaxy between her palms.

"you've got the loveliest smile, my dear boy. never lose it."

but he doesn't know what it means, to have a smile that brightens up the room. he can't wrap his mind around how one tiny smile can be enough to rid someone free of the burdens they accumulate as dawn turns to dusk.

cedric doesn't understand until he finds himself tucked in a corner of the library, buried under a mountain of books and parchment on what's supposed to be a weekend spent at hogsmeade.

he normally has a better hand at managing his responsibilities, but the combination of head boy duties, quidditch season starting in two weeks, and the workload that comes with n.e.w.t. level classes has made it impossible to do anything but thank merlin that he even manages to get through a single day.

cedric fights the urge to groan as he feels the seeds of an all familiar headache sprouting. an invisible force pounds against his head, a faint thud every few seconds that sends a twitch to his eye, but he knows it won't take long until he feels like an ogre is bashing his head against the thick books laying in front of him.

he wishes nothing more than for you to be here, with your own share of work, filling the stifling silence of his own little corner of the library with your frantic scribbling on parchment.

you'd let him take a break by now, body slumping against yours as he slots his head on the crook of your neck. he would breathe you in, greedily, and bite back a grin when you giggle at the ticklish feeling of his nose brushing against your skin. your fingers would find themselves tangled with his hair, tugging at the roots and digging at his scalp with enough pressure to release the tension on his shoulders.

he needs you, overwhelmingly so, but your friends had already whisked you off to hogsmeade before he could even ask if you'd want to join him.

at this point, he'd much rather take the ogre than spend another second alone.

"there you are."

cedric's head snaps towards the direction of your voice. he knows you're talking, watches the open and close of your mouth and the almost animated expressions your face dons as you approach him, but he's not hearing any of it.

he sees your smile, a reflection of the sun and the stars, and finally, he understands just how powerful it can be. he remains in a trance even as you clear a spot on the table for you to sit. his body moves entirely on auto-pilot, thighs spreading apart to make way for your legs as he drags himself and his chair closer to you. you've barely touched him, and yet he feels as if he's being pulled into a warm embrace by the clouds as you fish for his hand, locking your fingers together.

"love? are you alright?"

cedric swiftly slides his arms around your waist. he rests his head on your lap and hopes that the quiet hum he lets out is enough to quell your worries.

"better, bug. now that you're here."

vividly, he can imagine the face you make. a grimace in feigned disgust, your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to hold back a giggle.

"that's cheesy, ced." you give his head a light shove before running your fingers through his hair, to which cedric responds with a laugh and the tightening of his arms. he's given you no chance of escape, palms clutching onto the flesh.

"it's the truth."

and it is. if your smile had been enough to ease the ache in his body, brighten his day despite his workload that refuses to decrease, what more now that he's got you in his arms.

[libraford]

Multi-paper junk mini journal tutorial (low spoons version)

Last night, I mentioned that I like my blank books to have a combination of different papers: colored paper for sketching, blank paper for writing, dotted paper for lists, graph paper for schematics and maps, but there arent many manufacturers that make this. So I just make them myself.

And yall wanna know how to do that.

GREAT!

Here's the easy version. This is for:

-I want this for me, NOW, and I don't care what it looks like because I'm gonna cover it in stickers, and it's only going to be a few pages long. If it lasts a week, I'm happy.

You will need:

- desired papers, 8.5x11 inch regular ass sizes

- a piece of card stock or a thicker paper.

- stapler

- washi tape (optional)

- probably scissors

STEP 1

Take a piece of paper. Fold it in half. Tear or cut the paper along the fold line so you have two half sheets of paper.

If you want a larger book, you can just fold it in half and the book will be 8.5×5 instead of 5x3.25.

STEP 2

Fold the half sheets in half and crease them. Repeat this for every sheet you intend on using for the inside of your journal.* Try not to do more than 8 papers because it'll put stress on the stapler. The papers should now fit inside of each other.

*you could, if pressed, fold them all together in one big group. This is faster, however- if you've ever had a handmade zine that doesn't close cleanly it's likely that they stapled it together without creasing. To each their own. I don't run your life.

If there is excess on the ends that makes the book uneven, feel free to chop it off at this point.

STEP 3

Repeat step 2, but with the thicker paper, which is now your book cover.

STEP 4

Find the centerfold- which is the middle piece of paper. Lay it flat and make sure all the papers and the cover line up.

TIME TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH STAPLER!

Ah, yes- the zine-stitch. Three staples to hold it all together, one in the center and 2 an inch from the top and bottom. If you are doing a larger size, you may need more staples.

You can staple from the inside or you can flip it over and staple it from the spine. Stapling from the spine will make it smoother on the outside so if you're carrying it in your pocket it won't catch threads.

But sometimes stapling from the inside is the only method that works. I've got a fix for you at the end.

Stapling is easy because it's a fast fix, but you may find yourself wasting staples because they don't go all the way through. This can be that the paper is too thick or that there's too many papers. I have a more complicated version of this that's suited to this situation, which I'll write later.

Other, more obvious solution: better staples, better stapler. But I don't have that.

You can call yourself done now, or...

OPTIONAL STEP 5

If you stapled from the centerfold or if you plain don't like the way your spine looks, we're gonna use some washi tape.**

Gently find an unstapled flap in the cover and separate it so you can get some washing tape to adhere to the inside.

Run it along the spine with the book flattened.

Adhere it to the inside of the cover at the bottom and then fold.

**an advanced technique for this when you don't have washi tape: cut a strip of contrasting paper at least 1 inch thick and 2 inches longer than the spine (so in this case it would be 1 inch by 7 inches.) Coat the back of this paper with glue and then use in the same way the washi is shown. This will require extra curing time and you will want to put something heavy on top as it dries. Washi is just easier.

Now slap a sticker on it.

Nice!

And now you've got a little journal. Does it look great? Who cares? You don't have to look all over for a piece of graph paper when you wanna draw a map of something while you're out doing stuff.

It took me longer to write the tutorial than it did to make the thing. The hardest part was getting the staples to behave.

I have a higher spoons version that I will write up later, but this is the punkass way of doing something for yourself.

UPDATE: The tutorial for the nicer version is available here!

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 3

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language, drug use and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19

Law

Zoro-ya…

Zoro

DON'T.

Law

We've passed by the same block thrice.

Zoro growls. His fists clench as he continues to stubbornly walk ahead of the other man.

Law

Are you seriously this hopeless at directions?

Zoro

Shut up!! We're here.

Law cautiously looks around. His assumption was correct–the green-head is an idiot.

Law

We're in a damp back alley that smells like piss, in the middle of the night, behind some–

Just as Law is about to take another step, a couple of drunken men get roughly thrown out from a tavern and onto the stone footpath in front of him. The bouncer yells unruly curses their way and slams the door behind him. Law sighs, exasperated, and proceeds to follow Zoro, stepping over the writhing drunkards without a care.

Law

Lovely. Look, just tell me where you want to go and I'll take us there. We've wasted enough time already. Are you even sure that we’re on the right island?

Zoro

Shut up. This is the right place. I’m sure of it…this time.

Oh good, they haven't cleared it out yet.

Zoro confidently walks towards a large metal rubbish bin behind yet another shoddy tavern. He readjusts the swords around his waist, and jumps up onto the container. The top half of his body hangs over the opening and the bottom half flails his legs to offset his balance to make sure he doesn't fall all the way in.

Disgusted, Law covers his face with his arm, glaring at Zoro's behind.

Law

You said you can get us in touch with the Pirate King.

Zoro ignores the man and proceeds to dig through the trash, arms deep. Some of the contents spill over the edge, and some he chucks in random directions by hand.

Law

Ugh… Is digging through the trash really how we get to him? It took us two whole days to travel just to get here for this?

Zoro

FOUND YOU!

With a couple of kicks in the air, Zoro's feet fall on the ground. He has his hands cupped together close to his chest. He quickly shuffles past Law, avoiding eye contact, and begins to whisper into his hands as he finds a quiet dark corner while his back is turned towards the other man.

Zoro

I need you working for me now. Come on.

…

I'm sorry I threw you away. I was afraid that you were tapped. Or that you'll explode.

…

C'mon. Just…I'll feed you extra or something. What do you guys like again?

Law's patience is wearing very thin. He approaches Zoro, tapping him on the shoulder with the handle of his own sword.

Law

Zoro-ya, what's going on?

Zoro jolts. He turns his head to look at Law over his shoulder. His ears have turned red. In the palm of his hand, two tiny curious orbs peek over at the doctor.

Law blinks in surprise, looking at the transponder snail with two curly brows above its eyes.

—

At the other end of the line, a den-den mushi with one eye awakens from its peaceful nap.

Den-den Mushi

Purupurupurupuru

A delicate hand answers the call. He lifts the snail’s handset close to his face.

Sanji

Hello?

My beloved! What can I do for you?

Mhmm… Uh-huh. Huh.

That sounds like fun. Sure, I'll help you.

I'll see you soon, my love.

Den-den Mushi

Click

The call put Sanji in a pleasant mood. He is on his bed, reading a book on his stomach while smoking a joint. The one-eyed transponder snail readjusts its shell happily before hiding inside itself comfortably for another long snooze. Sanji thinks that's a great idea, and snuggles himself further in the overly large pink feather coat that draped over him like a blanket, bumping the wavy red sunglasses that sat on his forehead.

Doflamingo shifts in reaction. He is splayed naked next to him with his hands behind his head, resting comfortably against an especially large pillow that looks proportional to his massive figure.

Doflamingo

“My beloved,” hmm? Who was it?

Sanji

None of your god damn business, you ugly fuck.

Doflamingo lets out a deep sinister chuckle.

Doflamingo

This your new toy?

Sanji

He used to be.

Doflamingo

The swordsman, eh? I'm glad to hear that you're making progress.

Sanji

Thanks, cunt.

Doflamingo turns his head slightly, nodding at Sanji's hand with the stick.

Doflamingo

Pass it here.

Sanji stretches his hand and gently places the joint between Doflamingo's lips, giving him a chance to take a long deep drag.

As thanks, Doflamingo holds the air in his lungs, leans over and captures Sanji's lips onto his to breathe the smoke directly into his mouth, making the other man moan deliciously. He takes the hint and pushes further in, shoving his long pointed tongue further down his throat.

Sanji lets him flip him onto his back, welcoming his full weight by spreading his legs wide so the large man can fit between his figure. He opens his mouth, giving him further access.

After a few moments of exchanging deep penetrating kisses, Sanji exhales the smoke out through his nose. He pulls back slightly to look Doflamingo in the eyes.

Sanji

Don't touch him, okay?

Doflamingo

You're no fun.

Sanji

I'm serious.

At this point, Doflamingo knows when he can push his luck and when he can't, especially with that tone in his voice. He raises a hand, telling the other man that he won't bother him further about it. Shifting back onto his pillow, he returns his gaze to the blue and the green-haired commanders standing guard by the doorway. They'd been assigned to make sure that he behaves himself which is the usual routine, but nevertheless he finds it entertaining that they always refuse to watch the show directly in front of them or make any eye contact at all.

Doflamingo 

Think the blue one will actually let me have a go at him this time?

Sanji

Only if you want your dick bitten off, darling.

----------

A little drink to quench the thirst. Doffy is a big boy.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐍

ㅤㅤno outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, romance, valentines day, strangers to lovers

word count: 1.2k

summary: when your friend sets you up on a blind date, you had no idea how impactful it would be.

warnings: piv, oral (fem receiving), praise, mild dirty talk, ngl this is mostly smut dvbfdvbd

a/n: hello @always-andromeda!!! I was your secret valentine!! 💘💘💘 sorry I'm slightly late but I hope you had a spectacular valentines day, and I hope this fic of a dream of a man will make you happy!

A blind date. 

A goddamn fucking blind date. 

You still can’t believe you said yes and thought it was worth risking your mental stability for a date with a man you’ve never met, nor seen before. The agreed time was 7 pm, Valentine's Day, and lo behold it was 7.15, and still no sign of the famous Joel Miller. 

“This was stupid,” you mutter, looking around the crowded bar. You got stood up that’s for sure. You should leave, go home, and snuggle up with your favorite book under the bed. 

You're already seated at a cozy booth, nursing a half-forgotten drink as you contemplate your escape plan. Suddenly, a voice cuts through the chatter of the bar.

"Hey there."

You turn, startled, to see a man standing before you. He has a slightly sheepish grin on his face, as if he's been searching for you for a while. He repeats your name, a bit firmer this time, probably thinking he might have had the wrong person. Swiftly your eyes move up and down his frame, broad shoulders, broad chest— His dark, tousled hair frames a ruggedly handsome face, with tired, yet alert, eyes that seem to hold a thousand stories. 

"Yeah, that's me," you reply, trying to hide your surprise. "And you must be Joel?"

"Guilty as charged," he says with a soft smile. "Sorry, I'm late. Traffic was hell."

“That’s alright. . .” 

He raises an eyebrow, still smiling, “You sure that’s what you think? You looked right about to leave, honey.” 

"Well, I... I was just... considering my options," you stammer, feeling a bit flustered under his scrutiny.

Joel's smile widens, and he chuckles softly. "I'm glad you decided to stick around," he says, his voice warm and reassuring. "I promise to make it worth your while."

There's a sincerity in his words that puts you at ease, and you find yourself relaxing in his presence. Maybe this blind date won't be such a disaster after all.

"I'll grab us some drinks," Joel offers, standing up from the booth.

You nod, grateful for the distraction. "Sure, sounds good. I'll have a Negroni."

As Joel heads towards the bar, he glances back at you with an amused twinkle in his eye. "Don't run off while I'm gettin’ them now," he teases.

You let out a laugh, feeling a warmth spreading through you. "Don't worry," you reply, meeting his gaze. "I'm not going anywhere now that you're here."

He’s a single dad. 

A contractor. 

And most importantly, he’s eager to take you home. 

In the short amount of time that you got to know him, you feel as if this blind date was a key moment in your life. You already know this wouldn’t be the only time, and by the way he’s kissing you right now, you know that he feels it too. 

You had done the most cliche thing possible, asking if he wanted to come upstairs for a drink. 

All hell broke loose as soon as you closed your apartment door. 

His tongue is deep in your mouth as he sucks on your bottom lip, teeth nipping at the tender flesh. His large hands are under your skirt, squeezing your ass. You moan wantonly into his mouth, your eyes rolling all the way back into your skull. You’re burning and all he does is fan the flames. 

“Look at you, so good to me making those sweet noises,” he pulls his mouth away only an inch, making you feel the fan of his breath. His lips are shining under the dim light. “Make some more pretty girl. Make me hear all of it.” 

Without warning he slips two fingers between your folds, circling them around your clit. Your insides clench, more wetness gathering between your legs. Another moan rips from your throat. Joel gives you a half smile, eyes growing dark the more you let go and fall. 

“Can’t wait to take you apart again and again and again,” his lips ghost your cheek, mapping a road to your ear. You shudder against him. “Where’s the bedroom?” 

It takes you a second to understand the question. At least you thought it was a second, his deep laughter makes you think otherwise. “You really know how to make a man feel good about himself, sweetheart. But as much as I would love to fuck you on the floor, a bed would be better for a sweet thing like yourself.” 

“If you continue sweet-talking me like that I might just combust.” 

“That’s the plan darlin’,” he murmurs as you guide him. “I can’t wait to taste your mess.” 

As soon as he strips you down and lays you on the bed, he takes his place between your legs. A man of his word. He’s still fully clothed, you only managed to unbutton his jeans but that was it. He grinds down into the soft flesh of the bed as his tongue dips between your folds, licking and slurping, he moves up to your clit and sucks the sensitive nub, making you shout. 

“Let go, sweetheart. Need you to come at least once before you take me.” 

He sucks your clit again and again, applying pressure with his tongue, he slips in two fingers, curling them at just the right angle—

“Fuck—Joel, I’m—“

“Come for me, darlin’. Give me what I asked for and make me a happy man.” 

With a gasp, you let go, your whole body trembling as Joel continues to work his magic until you're left breathless and spent. He gives your clit one last lick before pulling away, a cocky grin on his face. 

"Damn, you look beautiful when you come. I can't wait to see it again," he says as he leans in for a quick kiss, before getting up and shedding his own clothes. You take a moment to admire his body before he's on top of you, his lips pressed against yours again. 

With each kiss, each touch, the fire between the two of you only intensifies. You don't even notice when he slips a condom on and pushes inside you, the pleasure taking over. 

Joel's thrusts are slow and deep, his hands gripping your hips as he moves in and out of you with increasing speed. You can feel the pressure building in your core again.

"God, you feel so good," Joel groans, his breath hot against your neck as he kisses and nips at your skin. "I can't get enough of you."

You feel the tight coil in your stomach unravel again, and you cry out as you come for a second time. Joel follows soon after, collapsing on top of you as he catches his breath. 

He rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms, both of you covered in a light sheen of sweat. You lay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Joel speaks up. 

"Can I be honest with you, sweetheart?" 

"Of course," you reply, turning to look at him. 

"I haven't felt a spark like this with anyone in a long time. I want to see where this goes," he says, sincerity in his voice. 

"I feel the same way," you admit, smiling at him. 

Joel's fingers brush your cheek before leaning in for a soft kiss. You can't believe your luck, finding someone who could ignite such a passionate fire in you. You know this is just the beginning of something special between the two of you. And you can't wait to see where it takes you.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

First of all, I love your account so much. To say you do Harry justice would be a dramatic understatement. One thing I would like to point out and I’m sure you agree is how baseless Drarry actually.

Drarry fans look at Half-Blood Prince and the way Harry pays attention to Draco’s appearances and behaviours and not letting go of and constantly mentioning his theory about Draco like Harry paying this much attention is something particular to Half Blood Prince and hence something particular to Harry and Draco. But this isn’t the case.

This theory is something that’s merely based on Drarry fans’ own absent-mindedness. Harry isn’t only observant and obsessive and in tune with others’ emotions In Half Blood Prince with Draco, he’s been that way since the very beginning of the books. Whenever he has a theory or a hunch about something, he does not let go of it and follows it through to the end. He does it in almost every book. And he’s always been very in tune with others’ emotions, he’s a bit of an icon with psychological warfare. And he’s always been in tune with his physical environment and good at making connections.

He formulated his theory about Draco being a death eater at the beginning of the book and as always, hung onto his theory and used his proven skills to build on his theory hence why he notices his skin and his footsteps and pays attention whenever Draco’s part of the conversation. He’s been like this in the context of theories since the beginning of the series. Assuming this is something particular with Book 6 and Harry’s obsession with Draco is something special with him is just completely absent-minded and ignorant. I would put examples from the previous books demonstrating the aforementioned skills but that’d take too long lmao.

Hi, thank you for the lovely words 💕

Now, it's not a secret I'm not a Drarry fan (or a Draco fan, I don’t really like him), but I wouldn't call Drarry baseless. I agree that Harry's supposed attraction to Draco is very debatable and I never read it as such (his obsession with Draco, for example, disappears the moment his theory was proven right and he never defends Draco like he does his loved ones, but I'll get to it later), but there is a lot of evidence that Draco has a crush/fixation on Harry, I'm not arguing against that part, actually.

I mean, Draco is always (except in HBP) the one to search out Harry. In all books except 6, Draco goes out of his way to get Harry's attention; that's one of the things that clues Harry in that something is going on with Draco. Draco finds excuses to talk to Harry, searches him out on the train, bother Harry and his friends specifically.

Draco's unicorn wand works for Harry — unicorn wands don't tend to pass on that way and tend to be incredibly loyal. So, this is a little sus. The fact that Draco, after he's a Death Eater, risks himself and his family as often as he does to save Harry. In book 6, he only broke his nose when he could've done worse; in book 7, he risks himself for Harry this way twice (manor and RoR).

His fixation on bothering Ron and Hermione is an extension of this desire for attention from Harry since Draco doesn't really seem to bother anyone else. It is about Harry specifically.

“She was right behind us,” said Ron, frowning. Malfoy passed them, walking between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at Harry and disappeared.

(PoA, Ch7) - This is an example of Malfoy searching out Harry and smirking at him. He does this a lot throughout the early books. I found so many occurrences of this while writing this post. So many, holy shit.

There are other things Draco does that clearly indicate a fixation and obsession with Harry. So, to me, Draco's behaviour in the early books, does read a little like pigtail pulling when it comes to Harry.

But let's look at how Harry actually sees/treats Draco in the books. Becouse there is an interesting transition in how Harry sees Draco, but it never read to me as romantic interest on Harry's part. Let's get into it:

Let's start with the early books since Harry's treatment of Draco in books 1-5 is very different than in books 6-7.

Books 1-5:

From the get-go, Harry doesn't like Draco and slots Draco in "annoying enemy" box in his mind:

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. [...] Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley. [...] “Play Quidditch at all?” “No,” Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be. “I do — Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?” “No,” said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute. [...] “Oh,” said the boy, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?” “He’s the gamekeeper,” said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second. “Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage — lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.” “I think he’s brilliant,” said Harry coldly. “Do you?” said the boy, with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?” “They’re dead,” said Harry shortly. He didn’t feel much like going into the matter with this boy. “Oh, sorry,” said the other, not sounding sorry at all. “But they were our kind, weren’t they?”

(PS, Ch5)

Young Draco is not described in flattering terms, appearance-wise or personality-wise. He's Dudley-like, and Harry dislikes him. This dislike lasts throughout the early books. We see Harry actively trying to avoid Draco, who is constantly going after him to bother him. I'm not going to bring up all the quotes that prove this to be the case (there are a lot), but here are a few:

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn’t look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

(PS, Ch7) - Harry is glad Draco is uncomfortable.

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn’t have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn’t until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together. “Typical,” said Harry darkly. “Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.”

(PS, Ch8) - Harry actively tries to avoid Draco.

What wouldn’t he give now for a message from Hogwarts? From any witch or wizard? He’d almost be glad of a sight of his archenemy, Draco Malfoy, just to be sure it hadn’t all been a dream. . . .

(CoS, Ch1) - Yes, it's funny Harry calls Draco his "archenemy" but it makes sense. Draco is an enemy Harry can easily manage and deal with, unlike voldemort. He's an enemy in Harry's control. When Harry has so little in his life under his control it makes sense he'd focus on an aspect he can control.

Harry had heard these rumors about Malfoy’s family before, and they didn’t surprise him at all. Malfoy made Dudley Dursley look like a kind, thoughtful, and sensitive boy.

(CoS, Ch3)

Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors’ work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Draco Malfoy, who was Snape’s favorite student, kept flicking puffer-fish eyes at Ron and Harry, who knew that if they retaliated they would get detention faster than you could say “Unfair.” [...] Goyle’s potion exploded, showering the whole class. People shrieked as splashes of the Swelling Solution hit them. Malfoy got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of a dinner plate — Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened. Through the confusion, Harry saw Hermione slip quietly into Snape’s office. “Silence! SILENCE!” Snape roared. “Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draught — when I find out who did this —” Harry tried not to laugh as he watched Malfoy hurry forward, his head drooping with the weight of a nose like a small melon.

(CoS, Ch11) - Harry wouldn't be laughing if he liked Draco, or thought Draco didn't deserve it. Harry is very protective of people he considers innocent or ones he cares about. His morals won't let him laugh at a faith he thinks is undeserved.

It had been such a pleasant evening that Harry’s good mood couldn’t even be spoiled by Malfoy, who shouted through the crowd as they all left the hall, “The dementors send their love, Potter!”

(PoA, Ch8) - Again, Draco stalks Harry to annoy him, and Harry thinks of him as a general nuisance.

It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where he was forced to think about other things, even if he had to endure Draco Malfoy’s taunting. Malfoy was almost beside himself with glee at Gryffindor’s defeat. He had finally taken off his bandages, and celebrated having the full use of both arms again by doing spirited imitations of Harry falling off his broom. Malfoy spent much of their next Potions class doing dementor imitations across the dungeon; Ron finally cracked and flung a large, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, which hit him in the face and caused Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor.

(PoA, Ch10) - again, Malfoy being a nuisance and Harry enjoying it when he gets some of what's coming to him. This is their pattern in the first 5 books.

Harry and Draco Malfoy had been enemies ever since their very first journey to Hogwarts. A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. His mother was blonde too; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn’t been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose.

(GoF, Ch8) - Again, he isn't described in flattering terms.

“Don’t talk to me,” Ron said quietly to Harry and Hermione as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened. “Why not?” said Hermione in surprise. “Because I want to fix that in my memory forever,” said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. “Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret . . .” Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione began dol- ing beef casserole onto each of their plates.

(GoF, Ch18) - Harry is very protective of the people he cares for. He won't be laughing at Draco's pain if he liked him or saw him as an innocent.

if he had known the prefect badge was on its way, he would have expected it to come to him, not Ron. Did this make him as arrogant as Draco Malfoy? Did he think himself superior to everyone else? Did he really believe he was better than Ron?

(OotP, Ch9) - Draco is synonimus with acting arrogant and shitty in Harry's mind.

“Want one, Granger?” said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. “I’ve got loads. But don’t touch my hand, now. I’ve just washed it, you see; don’t want a Mudblood sliming it up.” Some of the anger Harry had been feeling for days and days seemed to burst through a dam in his chest. He had reached for his wand before he’d thought what he was doing. People all around them scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor. “Harry!” Hermione said warningly. “Go on, then, Potter,” Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. “Moody’s not here to look after you now — do it, if you’ve got the guts —” For a split second, they looked into each other’s eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted. “Furnunculus!” Harry yelled. “Densaugeo!” screamed Malfoy. Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles — Harry’s hit Goyle in the face, and Mal- foy’s hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up

(GoF, Ch18) - Harry planned to cover Draco's face with painful boils. Also, Draco is showing his fixation again by charming these badges.

Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest bowtruckle. “Maybe,” said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Harry could hear him, “the stupid great oaf’s got himself badly injured.” “Maybe you will if you don’t shut up,” said Harry out of the side of his mouth. “Maybe he’s been messing with stuff that’s too big for him, if you get my drift.” Malfoy walked away, smirking over his shoulder at Harry, who suddenly felt sick. Did Malfoy know something? His father was a Death Eater, after all; what if he had information about Hagrid’s fate that had not yet reached the Order’s ears?

(OotP, Ch13) - Again, unflattering terms for appearance and Harry takes joy in Draco's pain since he thinks he deserves it.

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach — “Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!” He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled “IMPEDIMENTA!” and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. . . .

(OotP, Ch19) - Harry actually goes through with punching Draco, with the snitch in his hand. Harry, even when angry with Ron and Hermione, wouldn't hit them like this, ever. But Draco deserves it in Harry's mind, even if he acted impulsively, he doesn't regret Draco's pain later.

The journey home on the Hogwarts Express next day was eventful in several ways. Firstly, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses, attempted to ambush Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet. The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of D.A. members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to Harry’s aid. By the time Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot had finished using a wide variety of the hexes and jinxes Harry had taught them, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle resembled nothing so much as three gigantic slugs squeezed into Hogwarts uniforms as Harry, Ernie, and Justin hoisted them into the luggage rack and left them there to ooze.

(OotP, Ch38) - Again, laughs at Draco's pain and humiliation.

It's always Draco seeking out Harry to get his attention and Harry being annoyed more than anything. Multiple times, Harry takes pleasure and enjoys seeing Draco humiliated or in pain, but he's never the one who initiates their confrontation — it's always Draco, Harry only responds.

Overall, Harry sees Draco as an "easy enemy" — an enemy he can do something against in the early books and doesn't mind insulting him, hurting him, and laughing at Draco's misfortune. Draco is in the "enemy" box, but Harry never really fears him (even back in PS, he fears Crabbe and Goyle more than Draco since they're a physical threat). He's a nuissence sort of enemy, not a "real threat" kind of enemy.

Book 6:

In HBP, we see two changes in how Harry treats Draco. Up until now, Lucius was seen as the real threat and Draco was a petty villain, a school enemy. Book 6 changes that because now Harry thinks Draco is a Death Eater, and starts taking his threat more seriously accordingly. So Draco moves from the "petty enemy" box into the "active threat" box in Harry's mind.

As such, Harry becomes an instigator, now sees Draco as a threat and not a Dudley-like bully — hence why he starts following him around. He sees him as a real threat, so he acts accordingly.

At the very start of the book, Harry picks up his attitude towards Draco from the end of OotP (except, more recklessly after Sirius' death. Harry gets reckless when depressed, it's a usual pattern for him):

“If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in,” said Draco Malfoy. “I don’t think there’s any need for language like that!” said Madam Malkin, scurrying out from behind the clothes rack holding a tape measure and a wand. “And I don’t want wands drawn in my shop either!” she added hastily, for a glance toward the door had shown her Harry and Ron both standing there with their wands out and pointing at Malfoy. Hermione, who was standing slightly behind them, whispered, “No, don’t, honestly, it’s not worth it. . . .” [...] “Put those away,” she said coldly to Harry and Ron. “If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do.” “Really?” said Harry, taking a step forward and gazing into the smoothly arrogant face that, for all its pallor, still resembled her sister’s. He was as tall as she was now. “Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?”

(HBP, Ch6)

But when things start being odd and falling into place, Harry's suspeciouns grew and he starts taking Draco and his threat more seriously:

“Wonder where his mummy is?” said Harry, frowning. “Given her the slip by the looks of it,” said Ron. “Why, though?” said Hermione. Harry said nothing; he was thinking too hard. Narcissa Malfoy would not have let her precious son out of her sight willingly; Malfoy must have made a real effort to free himself from her clutches. Harry, knowing and loathing Malfoy, was sure the reason could not be innocent.

(HBP, Ch6) - he notices something is wrong becouse he analysed Narcissa's personality, not Draco's.

Harry spent a lot of the last week of the holidays pondering the meaning of Malfoy’s behavior in Knockturn Alley. What disturbed him most was the satisfied look on Malfoy’s face as he had left the shop. Nothing that made Malfoy look that happy could be good news. To his slight annoyance, however, neither Ron nor Hermione seemed quite as curious about Malfoy’s activities as he was; or at least, they seemed to get bored of discussing it after a few days. “Yes, I’ve already agreed it was fishy, Harry,” said Hermione a lit- tle impatiently.

(HBP, Ch7) - Hermione, too, agrees it's odd. She is just more cautious about jumping to conclusions than Harry is.

And Harry actually has good evidence behind his suspicions. It's not out of nowhere:

“Yeah, I do,” said Harry. When neither Ron nor Hermione answered, he said, “Malfoy’s father’s in Azkaban. Don’t you think Malfoy’d like revenge?” Ron looked up, blinking. “Malfoy, revenge? What can he do about it?” “That’s my point, I don’t know!” said Harry, frustrated. “But he’s up to something and I think we should take it seriously. His father’s a Death Eater and —” Harry broke off, his eyes fixed on the window behind Hermione, his mouth open. A startling thought had just occurred to him. “Harry?” said Hermione in an anxious voice. “What’s wrong?” “Your scar’s not hurting again, is it?” asked Ron nervously. “He’s a Death Eater,” said Harry slowly. “He’s replaced his father as a Death Eater!” [...] “In Madam Malkin’s. She didn’t touch him, but he yelled and jerked his arm away from her when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. He’s been branded with the Dark Mark.” [...] “He showed Borgin something we couldn’t see,” Harry pressed on stubbornly. “Something that seriously scared Borgin. It was the Mark, I know it — he was showing Borgin who he was dealing with, you saw how seriously Borgin took him!”

(HBP, Ch7)

Harry's intuition is always like this. I talked about his intuition before, and how he comes to conclusions about Voldemort and the Deathly Hallows is the same as how he concludes Draco is a Death Eater. It's just how Harry's intuition works.

And it makes sense that after this, he'd start following Draco's movements more closely. He is (rightfully) convinced he's actually a Death Eater. So, he tries to find out more (as he did when taking polyjuice potion or following the spiders in CoS, for example).

The second (and in my opinion more interesting) change in Harry's attitude towards Draco (an attitude that will remain into book 7), is after the Sectumsempra accident:

And Harry realized, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot, that Malfoy was crying — actually crying — tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin. Malfoy gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into the cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his shoulder. Malfoy wheeled around, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own. Malfoy’s hex missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways, thought Levicorpus! and flicked his wand, but Malfoy blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another — [...] There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry exploded; Harry attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Malfoy’s ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly; water poured everywhere and Harry slipped as Malfoy, his face contorted, cried, “Cruci —” “SECTUMSEMPRA!” bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly. Blood spurted from Malfoy’s face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand. “No —” gasped Harry. Slipping and staggering, Harry got to his feet and plunged toward Malfoy, whose face was now shining scarlet, his white hands scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest. “No — I didn’t —” Harry did not know what he was saying; he fell to his knees beside Malfoy, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood. [...] Harry was still watching, horrified by what he had done, barely aware that he too was soaked in blood and water. Moaning Myrtle was still sobbing and wailing overhead. When Snape had performed his countercurse for the third time, he half-lifted Malfoy into a standing position.

(HBP, Ch24)

“I’m not defending what I did!” said Harry quickly. “I wish I hadn’t done it, and not just because I’ve got about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn’t’ve used a spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you can’t blame the Prince, he hadn’t written ‘try this out, it’s really good’ — he was just making notes for himself, wasn’t he, not for anyone else. . . .” “Are you telling me,” said Hermione, “that you’re going to go back — ?” “And get the book? Yeah, I am,” said Harry forcefully.

(HBP, Ch24)

Harry feels incredibly guilty for the Sectumsempra incident. I mentioned it in past posts, but while Harry can kill if he thinks his opponent deserves it, he doesn't think Draco deserves it (Ginny does though, she tries to justify Harry's actions to him, but we're talking about Harry).

So, again, while Harry doesn't mind, say, killing Quirrell without seeing it, it's very different from standing in a pool of blood of a kid you knew as a nuisance since he was eleven. That would be shocking to anyone with a bit of empathy, regardless of how he felt about Draco.

Now, I think the reason Harry is even more guilty is what he heard right before. He heard Draco confess he didn't want to be a Death Eater, that all his family would be killed if he didn't do as Voldemort says — he cried. Harry is an empathetic person, so of course he feels sorry for Draco in that moment, he has a heart, and I don't think you need to like Draco to feel bad for him there. Hell, I dislike Draco and still feel bad for him and that he didn't deserve it — and so does Harry.

Draco's confession also changes Harry's behaviour. Harry doesn't follow Draco as closely out of guilt and pity:

“Nor am I,” said Harry quickly. “But he healed all right, didn’t he? Back on his feet in no time.” “Yeah,” said Harry; this was perfectly true, although his conscience squirmed slightly all the same. “Thanks to Snape . . .” “You still got detention with Snape this Saturday?” Ron con- tinued.

(HBP, Ch25)

But he still watches out for him and when Tralwany tells him someone was celebrating in the RoR, Harry knows what it means. And when Dumbledore doesn't take his warning seriously, he takes matters into his own hands to prepare the school for an attack, all very reasonable:

“Well, I don’t!” he said, as loudly as before. “He’s up to some- thing with Draco Malfoy right now, right under your nose, and you still —” “We have discussed this, Harry,” said Dumbledore, and now he sounded stern again. “I have told you my views.” [...] “. . . so you see what this means?” Harry finished at a gallop. “Dumbledore won’t be here tonight, so Malfoy’s going to have another clear shot at whatever he’s up to. No, listen to me!” he hissed angrily, as both Ron and Hermione showed every sign of interrupting. “I know it was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here —” He shoved the Marauder’s Map into Hermione’s hands. “You’ve got to watch him and you’ve got to watch Snape too. Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the D.A., Hermione, those contact Galleons will still work, right? Dumbledore says he’s put extra protection in the school, but if Snape’s involved, he’ll know what Dumbledore’s protection is, and how to avoid it — but he won’t be expecting you lot to be on the watch, will he?” “Harry —” began Hermione, her eyes huge with fear. “I haven’t got time to argue,” said Harry curtly. “Take this as well —

(HBP, Ch25)

In general, during the last confrontation, Harry's view of Draco is mostly that of pity, as Draco proves again, he doesn't want to do this:

“Now, Draco, quickly!” said the brutal-faced man angrily. But Malfoy’s hand was shaking so badly that he could barely aim. [...] “We’ve got a problem, Snape,” said the lumpy Amycus, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon Dumbledore, “the boy doesn’t seem able —” But somebody else had spoken Snape’s name, quite softly. “Severus . . .”

(HBP, Ch27)

Again it reiterates what Harry heard in the bathroom, and it doesn't read as romantic. I mean, you saw a 16-year-old being told to kill someone or his parents would be killed, and then he was incapable of doing it. The same 16-year-old you almost killed by accident after you saw him crying about what he is forced to do — of course, Harry won't blame him for what happened to Dumbledore. Again, you only need basic empathy.

Neither Ron nor Hermione thought Draco deserved the Sectumsempra incident either. It's not just Harry. And it makes sense Harry won't mention Daco's involvement — for the same reason he won't stun Stan Shunpike, he was forced to ask, therefore he is innocent. Harry won't condemn someone he views as an innocent, so, I don't think there has to be anything romantic going on for Harry to leave out Draco's involvement, just his usual empathy. because Draco is no longer in the "real threat" box, he has now moved to the "innocent victim" box. And that is where he stays until the end of the series.

Book 7:

During DH, we see Harry start referring to Draco as both "Malfoy" and "Draco" inside his head interchangeably, which is interesting (bolded in all following quotes). I think this has to do with the understanding Harry got of Draco's situation, he's no longer just "Malfoy" since Harry doesn't see him as an enemy anymore, he's Draco becosue he's an innocent forced to do Voldemort's bidding, just like the imperiosed Stan Shunpike.

Throughout DH, when Harry's thoughts go to Draco, it's with pity.

Malfoy’s gaunt, petrified face seemed burned on the inside of his eyes. Harry felt sickened by what he had seen, by the use to which Draco was now being put by Voldemort.

(DH, Ch9)

In the quote above, he refers to how Draco is being "used" by Voldemort. Yes, Ron and Hermione see Draco less favorably, but Harry was the one who heard his confession, saw his tears, and saw his wand shake in front of Dumbledore — he knows Draco's situation better.

But the point is, I don't see Harry's treatment of Draco as particularly romantic, the main reason is that I don't feel Harry respects Draco's skills or abilities as much as he respects his friends' skills. He pities Draco, he feels bad for him, sees him as someone Voldemort uses, but Harry doesn't really see him as capable anymore. He is no longer a threat.

In HBP, Harry stopped seeing Draco as an enemy; now he is a victim.

He resolved not to speak, for his voice was sure to give him away; yet he still avoided eye contact with Draco as the latter approached. [...] “I can’t—I can’t be sure,” said Draco. He was keeping his distance from Greyback, and seemed as scared of looking at Harry as Harry was of looking at him.

(DH, Ch23)

Again, in the manor, Harry isn't scared of Draco seeing them untied in the cellar. In the above quote, he is scared Draco might recognize him and what it would mean for them, but he isn't scared of Draco — Draco isn't the threat.

That’s my wand you’re holding, Potter,” said Malfoy, pointing his own through the gap between Crabbe and Goyle. “Not anymore,” panted Harry, tightening his grip on the hawthorn wand. “Winners, keepers, Malfoy. Who’s lent you theirs?” “My mother,” said Draco. Harry laughed, though there was nothing very humorous about the situation.

(DH, Ch31)

Again, Harry isn't scared of Draco becouse he knows Draco doesn't like causing pain and won't kill when he has the chance. Harry is more concerned with Crabbe and Goyle (as he has been since PS, they were always the more physical threat). And Harry is correct in his assessment:

“Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!” Malfoy yelled at Crabbe and Goyle, who were both aiming at Harry: Their split second’s hesitation was all Harry needed. “Expelliarmus!”

(DH, Ch31)

Again, I think Draco does have a crush/fixation on Harry, I just think it's unrequited. Draco is incredibly unsettled by the idea of Harry dying; this is beyond Voldemort wanting him alive, this is beyond the situation in the manor. Draco is terrified of Harry dying. (Notice, Draco doesn't shout like this earlier in the scene for Hermione when Crabbe tries to kill her, it's specifically for Harry).

Now, to a scene many Drarry fans love:

Harry could not see a trace of Malfoy, Crabbe, or Goyle anywhere. He swooped as low as he dare over the marauding monsters of flame to try to find them, but there was nothing but fire: What a terrible way to die. . . . He had never wanted this. . . . [...] And then Harry heard a thin, piteous human scream from amidst the terrible commotion, the thunder of devouring flame. [...] And he saw them: Malfoy with his arms around the unconscious Goyle, the pair of them perched on a fragile tower of charred desks, and Harry dived. Malfoy saw him coming and raised one arm, but even as Harry grasped it he knew at once that it was no good. Goyle was too heavy and Malfoy’s hand, covered in sweat, slid instantly out of Harry’s— “IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I’LL KILL YOU, HARRY!” roared Ron’s voice, and, as a great flaming chimaera bore down upon them, he and Hermione dragged Goyle onto their broom and rose, rolling and pitching, into the air once more as Malfoy clambered up behind Harry.

(DH, Ch31)

I have a few notes:

1. Harry was searching for all of them: Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, regardless of his feelings about them, he planned to save all of them. He is talking about "them" when searching and when diving down, it isn't just Draco.

2. Again, Harry is an empathetic and good person, in his words: "What a terrible way to die. . . . He had never wanted this. . . .", like the Sectumsempra incident, Harry doesn't want people, even bad ones (Crabbe and Goyle) to die a tourtourus death and he definitely doesn't want an innocent person (Draco, in his mind is a victim) to die.

3. He describes Draco's scream as: "a piteous human scream ". This is because, as I mentioned above, since the latter part of HBP, I don't think Harry sees Draco as a threat or his equal anymore, not really. He graduated their enmity to the big bad (Voldemort). Harry sees him as weaker and more pitiful than himself (similarly to how he sees other victims of Voldemort). I don't think Harry consciously thinks this, but you kind of see it in his behaviour and how he thinks about Draco as someone who is a victim and doesn't have the same level of agency as other characters. (Probably JKR's own thoughts, but it is written into Harry's narration).

Draco was on the upper landing, pleading with another masked Death Eater. Harry Stunned the Death Eater as they passed. Malfoy looked around, beaming, for his savior, and Ron punched him from under the Cloak. Malfoy fell backward on top of the Death Eater, his mouth bleeding, utterly bemused. “And that’s the second time we’ve saved your life tonight, you two faced bastard!” Ron yelled.

(DH, Ch32)

What I want to note here:

1. Harry doesn't mind Draco being hurt by Ron even this late in DH. If he had a crush, I'd expect him to call Ron out as Harry's incredibly protective of people he cares for, or say something like the punch being uncalled for. Harry doesn't.

2. Saving Draco from the Death Eater is, again, Harry sees him as a defenceless victim (which he is, he is wandless), so Harry does what he always does — protect people he sees as innocent.

Though all books, it never read to me like Harry had a crush or even the start of a crush. It read like Harry's view of Draco went from "annoying bully to be avoided and fought when he crosses a line" (books 1-5) to "enemy, an actual threat" (most of book 6) to "innocent victim trapped by circumstances" (end of book 6 and book 7).

Now, regarding Harry's obsessive tendencies in general, as you called them.

He definitely can get fixated on things and I wrote in the past how very intuitive he is when it comes to his theories. I actually think the best other case of this sort of obsession/fixation besides Draco being a Death Eater that reads very similar to it, is also from HBP — and it's the titular Half Blood Prince.

Becouse if we look at someone else Harry is obsessed with in HBP:

Harry wondered vaguely who the Half-Blood Prince had been. Although the amount of homework they had been given prevented him from reading the whole of his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, he had skimmed through it sufficiently to see that there was barely a page on which the Prince had not made additional notes, not all of them concerned with potion-making.

(HBP, Ch10)

“Ha!” said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of Advanced Potion-Making, fresh from Flourish and Blotts. “Oh good,” said Hermione, delighted. “Now you can give that graffitied copy back.” “Are you mad?” said Harry. “I’m keeping it! Look, I’ve thought it out —” He pulled the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, muttering, “Diffindo!” The cover fell off. He did the same thing with the brand-new book (Hermione looked scandalized). He then swapped the covers, tapped each, and said, “Reparo!”

(HBP, Ch11)

Constantly thinks about and studies intensivly:

Harry woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving stormy, and whiled away the time until breakfast by reading his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. He did not usually lie in bed reading his textbooks; that sort of behavior, as Ron rightly said, was indecent in anybody except Hermione, who was simply weird that way. Harry felt, however, that the Half-Blood Prince’s copy of Advanced Potion-Making hardly qualified as a textbook. The more Harry pored over the book, the more he realized how much was in there, not only the handy hints and shortcuts on potions that were earning him such a glowing reputation with Slughorn, but also the imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins, which Harry was sure, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, that the Prince had invented himself.

(HBP, Ch12)

Abandoning pretense, Harry said, “And it wasn’t Sirius? Or you?” “Definitely not.” “Oh.” Harry stared into the fire. “I just thought — well, he’s helped me out a lot in Potions classes, the Prince has.” “How old is this book, Harry?” “I dunno, I’ve never checked.” “Well, perhaps that will give you some clue as to when the Prince was at Hogwarts,” said Lupin. [...] Ron fell asleep almost immediately, but Harry delved into his trunk and pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before getting into bed. There he turned its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly fifty years old. Neither his father, nor his father’s friends, had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago. Feeling disappointed, Harry threw the book back into his trunk, turned off the lamp, and rolled over, thinking of werewolves and Snape, Stan Shunpike and the Half-Blood Prince, and finally falling into an uneasy sleep full of creeping shadows and the cries of bitten children. . . .

(HBP, Ch16)

Knows intuitively and understands better than Hermione:

“Or herself,” said Hermione irritably, overhearing Harry pointing some of these out to Ron in the common room on Saturday evening. “It might have been a girl. I think the handwriting looks more like a girl’s than a boy’s.” “The Half-Blood Prince, he was called,” Harry said. “How many girls have been Princes?” Hermione seemed to have no answer to this. She merely scowled and twitched her essay on The Principles of Rematerialization away from Ron, who was trying to read it upside down.

(HBP, Ch10)

While both Hermione and Ron are doubtful of Harry's thoughts, feelings regarding the object of his interest:

Neither Ron nor Hermione was delighted by this. Although Harry had offered to share his book with both of them, Ron had more difficulty deciphering the handwriting than Harry did, and could not keep asking Harry to read aloud or it might look suspicious. Hermione, meanwhile, was resolutely plowing on with what she called the “official” instructions, but becoming increasingly bad-tempered as they yielded poorer results than the Prince’s.

(HBP, Ch10)

And he constantly defends the Prince to Hermione (even when he's wrong). He just really likes the Prince:

“That was different,” he said robustly. “They were abusing it. Harry and his dad were just having a laugh. You don’t like the Prince, Hermione,” he added, pointing a sausage at her sternly, “because he’s better than you at Potions —” “It’s got nothing to do with that!” said Hermione, her cheeks reddening. “I just think it’s very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don’t even know what they’re for, and stop talking about ‘the Prince’ as if it’s his title, I bet it’s just a stupid nickname, and it doesn’t seem as though he was a very nice person to me!” “I don’t see where you get that from,” said Harry heatedly. “If he’d been a budding Death Eater he wouldn’t have been boasting about being ‘half-blood,’ would he?”

(HBP, Ch12)

And remembers a lot of details from. Details that saved Ron:

Harry leapt over a low table and sprinted toward Slughorn’s open potion kit, pulling out jars and pouches, while the terrible sound of Ron’s gargling breath filled the room. Then he found it — the shriveled kidneylike stone Slughorn had taken from him in Potions. He hurtled back to Ron’s side, wrenched open his jaw, and thrust the bezoar into his mouth. Ron gave a great shudder, a rat- tling gasp, and his body became limp and still.

(HBP, Ch18)

And right after he almost kills Draco, his thoughts once the immediate shock is gone aren't about Draco and whether he's okay. The moment Snape took care of him, Harry knew he'd be fine. He feels guilty because he didn't intend to hurt Draco that badly, but he feels betrayed by The Prince, he's more terrified Snape would take the book away rather than punish him for almost murdering someone!

He felt stunned; it was as though a beloved pet had turned suddenly savage; what had the Prince been thinking to copy such a spell into his book? And what would happen when Snape saw it? Would he tell Slughorn — Harry’s stomach churned — how Harry had been achieving such good results in Potions all year? Would he confiscate or destroy the book that had taught Harry so much . . . the book that had become a kind of guide and friend? Harry could not let it happen. . . . He could not . . .

(HBP, Ch24)

Actually, he treats the Prince closer to a crush than he treats Draco. Harry is unwilling to blame the Prince for the Sectumsempra incident, and he's unwilling to hear slander about him/the book from Hermione because the Prince is someone he likes. Think of how quickly Harry jumps up to speak in defence of Ron, Hermione, Luna, Sirius, or Ginny, even against people he likes, like when Dumbledore says something slightly negative about Sirius in OotP:

I do not think that Sirius took me very seriously, or that he ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a humans —” “Don’t you blame — don’t you — talk — about Sirius like —” Harry’s breath was constricted, he could not get the words out properly. But the rage that had subsided so briefly had flared in him again; he would not let Dumbledore criticize Sirius. “Kreacher’s a lying — foul — he deserved —” [...] And whatever Kreacher’s faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher’s lot easier —” “DON’T TALK ABOUT SIRIUS LIKE THAT!” Harry yelled.

(OotP, Ch37)

It's immediate. Harry is unwilling to hear slander against his loved ones, even when his loved ones are in the wrong, Harry will defend them and their choices — he's loyal like that.

But we don't see him doing this with Draco. He doesn't argue when Ron calls him a "bastard", "prick", or "rat-like", which Harry won't allow if he liked Draco. We would at least know he's uncomfortable with these terms inside his head — but we don't, he's fine with it.

Think of how long it took Tom to explain to Harry he's evil in CoS. Harry liked Tom and was unwilling to suspect him of foul play. Of how he was unwilling to consider the Prince could be a DE because he liked him and wanted to belive the best of him. If Harry had a crush on Draco, he wouldn't have suspected him of being a Death Eater to begin with.

And the final question? Is Draco attractive, and does Harry find him attractive?

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face

(PS, Ch5)

He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes.

(CoS, Ch4)

Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Harry’s eye and smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest.

(OotP, Ch15)

A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack, wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. [...] His light gray eyes narrowed.

(HBP, Ch6)

Draco's face is pretty consistently described as pale and pointed. As you said, Harry isn't waxing poetic like he does with Tom:

Harry recognized Voldemort at once. His was the most handsome face and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys.

(HBP, Ch17)

He was plainly dressed in a black suit; his hair was a little longer than it had been at school and his cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited him; he looked more handsome than ever.

(HBP, Ch20)

Or Sirius:

Sirius was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good-looking; his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James’s nor Harry’s could ever have achieved [...] Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so.

(OotP, Ch28)

I'd go on a limb and say Draco isn't ugly (since Harry states quite clearly when someone is ugly), but he's not particularly attractive either, objectively and in Harry's opinion. I think he falls similar to the Narcissa "she would have been nice-looking if...", as in, he could look alright in the right circumstances, but he isn't Tom Riddle or Sirius Black.

Draco's hair is probably nice. His hair is the part that gets the most positive terms associated with it; it's his face Harry considers "pointy". Besides, I think Draco is the kind of guy who'd take good care of his hair.

(Listen, I ship Nottpott, but I'm aware canon Harry doesn't find Theo hot. I just write Theo as handsomer in my fic. That's allowed.

There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them [Thstrals]: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle (OotP, Ch21)

together with a weedy-looking boy Hermione whispered was called Theodore Nott. (OotP, Ch26)

Harry describes him as tall and thin in a bad way. The nice term Harry uses for tall and thin is "lanky" which is used for Ron and other Weasleys. But, hey, Theo's not ugly and there's nothing wrong with his face, so that's something (Harry would mention it if there was something bad to say, he is not shy about calling people ugly.

Also, saying Draco is the "only Slytherin not described as ugly", which I have seen claimed, is Blaise Zabini erasure:

He recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; [...] Even Zabini had allowed a look of curiosity to mar his haughty features. (HBP, Ch7)

In HP "haughty" is a word used to describe people who are so beautiful they are intimidating. He's described with "high cheekbones" and "slanting eyes" — all natural or flattering terms. Like, as I said, Draco isn't ugly, but the true catch of their year in Slytherin is Blaise.

Also, Pansy asks Blaise about his interest in Ginny. If she could get Blaise, I think she would leave Draco. And both Blaise and Theo are implied to be cleverer than Draco, so there are clearly other catches in Slytherin.)

Summary

So, I don't think Drarry is as canon as some Drarry fans make it out to be, but I wouldn't call it completely baseless either. There is a base to work with if you're inclined to read it that way. As I said, I can argue Draco's obsession with Harry and attempts to get his attention are the results of a crush, but I don't think Harry is attracted to Draco in canon. There is a dynamic for fanon/fanfiction to build on if you want to, though (I personally don't).

Would I say it would've felt more natural if Harry had gotten together with Draco instead of with Ginny in the books? No, not really. Not without a lot more buildup. As it is, it would have been just as jarring to me.

So, these are my thoughts about it. These discussions and reading into things are fun, but this is what canon is. (I didn't go through all the "Drarry scenes" so to speak, becosue this post is long enough as it is, but all of them, from Harry's end could be explained by behaviour other than a crush, and he doesn't treat Draco at any point like he treats his freidns or people he cares about).

[mosquego359]

𖤐One Kiss and A Quidditch Match — Chapter 8: The Suit𖤐

Prologue (recommended to read)

Chapter 7 (previous)

Pair: Cedric Diggory x Male Slytherin Reader

Word count: 2.2K words

Summary of the book: You and Cedric Diggory hate each other. It has always been this way. But everything changes one night when you kiss each other at a party. Now, it seems you can’t escape each other — from being partnered up in Herbology for an important project to having to help Cedric during the Triwizard Tournament.

Summary of the chapter: You and Cedric talk about the Yule Ball, you slip up, accidentally nearly revealing a secret, and you realise something about yourself.

Notes: Please comment on anything I should change to improve this. Also, I am not British, so I am not 100% sure how to correctly write people from the UK. (I'm very sorry for the late ass update but motivation hates me)

Content warning: Swearing and a slur

!PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE WITHOUT PERMISSION OR CREDIT TO ME!

...

Over the next few hours, it seemed Winnie had informed most of your friends because, after breakfast, Elsie and Brian came to visit you and handed you the homework you hadn’t completed yet so you didn’t have to go back to your dorm.

Even Alistair gave you a quick visit. He apologised for his behaviour and how rude he was back at the first Triwizard Tournament Task. It seems your friends had given him a strict talking-to based on how he swallowed his words, voice a nearly undeletable murmur. You forgave him, of course; you had been friends for years, and you had already corrected him when he said other stupid shit.

His jaw clenched when you informed him you and Cedric had made up. When Alistair held a grudge towards someone, he was likely to keep it for a while, so you barely noted his reaction. At least he didn’t say anything rude.

“All right, here are the last few books about magical riddles and puzzles,” you dropped a pile of around six books on the table next to Cedric.

Over the past few weeks, you had gotten closer, and you started considering him a friend as you tried to solve the mystery of the egg. Usually, you’d work on it in one of your dorms, but now, both of your roommates wanted quiet time, so you couldn’t open the egg around them. 

Cedric suggested heading to the library to skim through the books you hadn’t read to find ideas, but for the past few hours, you had found nothing of use. Besides, the egg was in Cedric’s dorm since you were supposed to be quiet in the library.

“Which one do you want to start with?” you asked him, checking out the overs of each novel.

“Ugh! This is useless,” groaned the Hufflepuff, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He had been skimming through an old, thick grimoire, and his irritation was evident. 

You huffed, “What? Giving up, Diggory? I thought you were beter than that?”

“Not funny, (Name). We’ve been going at it for, what, three hours? Four, even? And we still haven’t found anything that works. Spell are useless and it’s not in any languages we’ve seen.”

“Actually, it’s a quarter to five, so it’s been three hours and a half.” You checked your watch, “But I agree. Trying to find out what that dammed egg is trying to tell us is way too difficult. We should take a break.” You suggested, sitting on the table, your feet on the chair next to Cedric.

He nodded eagerly.

“Great! Let’s just talk for, like thirty minutes to refresh our brains.” 

Cedric hummed, “I actually do have a question for you. I mean, everyone’s been talking about the Yule ball for a while and a lot of people already have date. I was just wondering who you’re going with.”

The answer slightly startled you, but it didn’t shock you. As he said, everyone — especially the girls who got to go — was ecstatic for the Yule ball. Every corner you turned, giggles, murmurs and questions could be heard about this rare event.

And a school full of romance-focused teens, an event where you could bring someone you liked to, and a bunch of attractive foreign students most definitely resulted in trashy love confessions and awkward rejections. Unfortunately for you, no one had asked you to go with them on a date. Even Winnie hadn’t — which was strange, considering you did almost everything together.

“Nah, I’m not really interested in that stuff right now,” you replied, but you felt it in your gut — you were lying to yourself. “How about you? Any special girl you’d want to spend the night with.” You didn’t know why, but despite your curiosity for his answer, the words felt like vomit coming out of your mouth.

Cedric chuckled, “Yeah: Cho Chang. She’s a fifth year in Ravenclaw. You know her?”

You nodded slowly. Although you weren’t close, she was one of the few friends you and Cedric shared back when you were still enemies. She was really sweet and intelligent — so much so that she once corrected your homework in your 3rd year at Hogwarts. Like everyone else in her house, she was creating: inventing stories and other worlds, recounting them to the few people who attended her storytelling club a year ago.

A knot twisted in your gut, but you ignored it.

“That’s nice,” you said carefully after a small beat of silence, “How long have you two been dating? I don’t recall you saying anything about a relationship.”

Cedric let out a light chuckle, “ That’s because we’re not.”

“You’re…not?”

“Nope. Everyone just assumes so since we’ve been close in the past couple of months, but we’re just friends.” He explained.

You nodded, internally letting out a sigh of relief. “What are you wearing, if you don’t mind me asking?” You slid into the chair next to him and placed your chin onto your palm.

“I thought I was asking the questions,” Cedric smirked but continued before you could apologise, “Don’t worry about it, (Name). My mum just bought me a new fancy outfit when she found out I was the Hogwarts Champion. What about you?”

“Me?” You asked, pointing to yourself, “My dad sewed me a white suit. He sent it to me by owl a few days ago, but I’ve yet to try it on. It’s honestly impressive rather, considering it was handmade. I mean, sure, it has a few loose threads and it isn’t the best quality, but I appreciate the effort.”

Cedric’s eyebrows furrowed, but he kept his charming smile, “Handmade? I’ve never heard of a wizard who doesn’t use his wand to sew.”  Shit. “What’s it like, what does he do.”

Oh, you fucked up. 

There were not many known Muggleborn or Half-blood Slytherins, considering that not only most of the house were Pureblood, but kids were often bullied for merely being not “fully wix”. For a while, you’d been pretty good at keeping the fact that your father did not practice magic — only informing your close friends — but it was so difficult whenever you got close to anyone else. Even the thought of telling Cedric nauseated you with how his opinion of you would change.

“Oh-um, well,” you stammered, “He’s very fascinated with Muggles, y’know?”

“I’ve never heard of a wizard sewing by hand before. He must really care a lot for you. What does he do for work?” Cedric attempts to get the information out of you. Was he onto you? Did he realise you weren’t a Pureblood like most people thought you were?

You shrugged, visibly uncomfortable, but trying to hide it. “It’s nothing, really. And as for his work, he’s, um,” You made incomprehensible hand gestures, trying to fill the void of silence.

Before anything else could happen, a young Slytherin girl peeked her head over a bookshelf, “Oh, (Surname), there you are!”

You and the Hufflepuff turned to look at her.

“I need yur help: someone pranked my sister and we need your help to undo the jinx.” The girl looked at you with panicked eyes, “Someone dumped auto-freezing water on her and I don’t want her to die.”

You stood up, using that opportunity to escape from the conversation with Cedric, “Of course!” You turned to Cedric to wish him goodbye when a thought struck you. Water. “Ced, about the egg, have you tried to pour water into it? Maybe it only screams random nonsense when human ears hear it without anything to…change it, I guess.”

With that, you followed the Slytherin girl out of the library, leaving Cedric with a possible solution to the egg riddle and more than a few questions about your personal life.

That night, you opened your closet to the white suit your dad sent you. You definitely downplayed how beautiful it really was. It looked like it was made for a royal ball, with golden chains and pins decorating it. You hadn’t tried it on yet since you were honestly afraid to break it. You loved your dad. You really did. But the thought of everyone’s judgement on your bloodline was nauseating.

You carefully took it out of your closet, stroking the silk fabric. Your auntie and your grandmother loved sewing, so it was only natural that your dad picked up the skill. But that outfit was really something else. Would Cedric like it?

“(Name)?” You heard Alistair call your name from behind you, “We need to talk.”

You carefully hung it back up and turned to Alistair. His arms were crossed and he had a serious look on his face — a rare sight. Truth be told, you were still slightly annoyed at him for his disrespect, but you felt as if you had forgiven him.

“What’s up?”

He paused and a sense of caution and dread settled in your stomach. “I’m really worried about you?”

“How so?” You frowned.

“Well, it’s only been, what, a month, since you recovered from that injury, and I don’t mean to say that you shouldn’t have healed or whatever, but,” Alistair paused and sighed, “I just feel that it’s odd that you and Diggory are super close in such a short span of time.”

You gave him a look that said you were clearly not unimpressed, “Really, mate? I already told you, we forgave each other. You should know by now that I love giving others second chances, considering how many I gave you.”

“I know,” He sighed, “But, I’m genuinely worried. I know I haven’t been the greatest friend, but trust me when I care for you. I mean, I doubt you’d ever date him, because you’re not one of the fag-”

“I swear to God, Alistair I am not in the mood for you to say a fucking slur, understand?” You snap at him, cutting him off, “I know that you care and I know that you mean well, but you can’t be rude just because I held a grudge against a Hufflepuff, okay?”

Alistair’s jaw clenched, and the glint in his eyes was all but friendly, but for the first time in forever, he stayed calm. “Okay. I’m just looking out for you.” He started backing away towards the door, “Just don’t come running back if he breaks your heart.”

After a few seconds, you sat on your bed. Man, this was a stressful day.

But…that short conversation with Alistair left thoughts bubbling in your head. You recollected the way Cedric’s smile made you feel, the little details you noticed about him, like the way he rested his forehead in his hands whenever he read intensely, and even the odd thing you felt when he mentioned going to the Yule ball with Cho.

Was it possible that you…

No. No way you’d fall for Cedric. After all, as Alistair stated, it had only been a month, and how could you have fallen for the person you once hated the most in that short amount of time?

You exhaled loudly, deciding to just curl up into your covers and rest to clear your mind, and possibly gain more clarity in the morning. No, it did not matter that you were still in your uniform. You were tired and to you, that was all that mattered at the moment.

You closed your eyes and sleep surprisingly came easily.

Sometimes, your dreams were difficult to separate from reality. Sometimes, they were memories, and other times you dreamt of things you desired.

This one was situated in what you believed the Yule ball to look like; a white room with silver accents and and engravings on the walls and ceiling shining like glittering ice. The floor was marble and you saw the reflection of the crystal chandelier that hung from the silver ceiling. 

You could hear classical music coming from all around the room and saw that you were all alone except for one person. Cedric. What was he doing here? And why were you two slow dancing together?

Your confusion disappeared when you looked into his gorgeous grey eyes and saw his dashing smile. Butterflies tickled your stomach and you felt heat rush to your cheeks and neck. The whole experience felt surreal, and you found yourself returning his smile.

Slowly, the music started fading, and all you could focus on was Cedric. He squeezed your hand. It felt so real. He put his other gloved hand on your lower back, sending shivers down your spine. It felt so real. His eyes flickered to your lips and he closed them as he leaned his face closer to yours. It felt so real. When your lips finally connected, you thought to yourself: “I wish this was real.”

You woke up. Not to a glittering ballroom, but to your dark dorm, staring at the ceiling that was not silver like in the dream, but green. That was all a dream? You would have asked yourself if not for the realisation of your feelings towards Cedric. 

You liked him.

...

Chapter 9

If you'd like to request fanfiction, please check out my Masterlist (which has all the fandoms I write for) and my Request Page (which has the rules about what I write).

[ohmyrashi]

story time!! 💛

so today i had a plan to get a haircut at 12:30 and then meet someone at a department store at 3:00. the haircut only took about 20 mins so i was left with almost two hours to kill.

used the bathroom in the hair salon, then went to a nearby restaurant to grab lunch. ordered a diet coke and ended up finishing it pretty quick bc it was rly hot out today and i was thirsty from the walk. waitress brought me a refill without even asking and i ended up finishing that too.

still had like half an hour to kill, ended up going to a cafe to read my book. ordered a 16 oz iced tea, finished about half of it and took the rest with me to the car when it was time to head out. and, i cannot emphasize enough, i WENT TO THE BATHROOM at the cafe before i left!! i'm no fool!! i've been an omo lover long enough to know what two sodas and an iced tea were gonna do to my bladder!! but i wasn't planning on holding or anything so i figured i'd be safe and go like a responsible adult!!

except i think that the bulk of the liquid hadn't hit me yet, or maybe my bladder is still sensitive from the other night, because almost as soon as i got in my car, i was needing to pee again.

and y'all. it got SO bad so ridiculously fast. and it was a 30 minute drive 😭

by like 7 minutes in my bladder was achingly full, and the pressure just kept getting more and more acute until i was shifting around and making little noises of discomfort in my throat at red lights. the whole drive was through residential neighborhoods and on the highway, nowhere convenient to stop. and anyways, it was a short enough drive that i would have felt silly stopping on the way. but it was getting hard to think about anything than how swollen and heavy my bladder felt in my abdomen and how much i wanted to empty it. (for the record, i was still able to drive safely, if it was so bad that i couldn't i would have pulled over. don't distracted drive for any reason kids)

ofc this was all also super fucking hot, bc as much fun as getting desperate on purpose is there's really nothing like when it happens organically, and in a situation where you can't relieve yourself.

made it to the store, parked in the parking lot, speed walked inside. now as i mentioned, this is a department store, which means it is huge and has multiple levels. looked around and didn't see signs for a bathroom anywhere. bladder absolutely bursting.

looked frantically for an associate, finally spotted one folding clothes, hurried over and asked politely where the bathroom was. next floor, in the far corner. so far away. help

found the escalator, walked up it, started looking around for the bathroom, no sign of it anywhere!! i felt like i was having a pee dream, stuck searching through this huge store for a toilet with my bladder about to explode!

found ANOTHER associate, asked AGAIN where the bathroom was, and i think there was a certain tone in my voice/look on my face/tension in my posture cause she started giving me directions and then was just like "--you know what, i'll walk you there" 😳🙈

FINALLY made it to a stall, didn't bother locking the door, danced and gasped while i got my shorts down, and thundered Niagara Falls out into the toilet 😩🥰😮‍💨