So basicly in about 1.5 a month I will have to say if i will go with someone or alone to a prom. I dont have anyone to go with, no cusins or friends, and my friends dont have anyone for me. That wouldnt be a problem, if not the fact that all of my friends are going with someone, so I will be left alone. I wouldnt have anyone to talk to, or dance a dance that is traditionaly dance is pairs on this prom. I told my mom and she said there are two boys i could take, but i think they both have girlfriends so that wont be possible. What do I do?
harry james potter x fem!reader. warnings; eating disorder - anorexia.
English is not my first language!
Reblogs appreciated more then likes!
The fireplace cast a warm, cozy light upon a whole common room. The fabric of your red knitted sweater, one of the gifts from Mrs. Weasley, droped over your body like a warm blanket. It was quiet now. Only a couple of people was sitting in the corners, still chatting about meaningless things.
Hermione went to bed couple of minutes ago, and Ron, who had already pissed her off by saying that he doesn't need to study for tests because he is a quidditch player now, had followed after.
You sat on the couch with your knees tucked into your chest, watching the nearly untouched hot cocoa in a ceramic mug standing on the table. You felt a gaze that slowly followed your eyes.
Of course, he was sitting here for the whole time after all.
You tried to hide your nervousnes, while you put your legs down amd extended your hand to grab the mug.
Did he noticed? No. There was no way.
You slipped your fingers into the handle and tried to lift the cup, but you clearly underestimated the weight of the liquid. The mug tilted, and before you could react and somehow save the drink it spilled all over the wooden table, and started dripping on the floral carpet.
You quickly set the mug aside, grabbed the tissues, which Hermione luckily left, and started to pat them into the stained carpet, in hope that it didn't yet sank into the fabric.
When you were sure that rug was dry, you pulled yourself up and saw Harry cleaning the mess from the table.
'Sorry' you muttered under your breath, not caring if he acctually heard the apology. That was not important now.
'It's alright' he answered, still working with the now soked tissues.
His words casted an uncomfortable silence. You pulled your legs into your chest again while watching him stand up and walk the room to throw the damp mess into a trash can.
Everything is okay. You are just being delusional.
'Are you not going to sleep?' You ask shyly, as if afraid that your voice could couse some kind of harm. Reveal something. But why would it? You are just being a good friend. Just someone who cared.
'Not yet' he said eventually.
You nodded, eyes dropping back to the embers that were now left from the fire.
'You've been different lately'
Your shoulders stiffened uncontrollably, and you swear you could hear your breath stoping for a few seconds.
'What do you mean?'
'You know what I mean'
You let out a quiet chuckle that hopefully didn't show the shakiness of your voice.
'We have a lot of stydying, I'm just tired' You rubbed your eyes, lettong a quiet sigh escape from your mouth, as if that was suppose to confirm your answer.
'Tired doesn't usually make someone skip melas'
Those words landed on you like a stone on your chest. Should you lie? Or maybe just told him the truth? Playing stupid was also an option.
'I haven't been- '
'You have'
He was not angry. You could feel it. His voice was almost hesistant, as if not sure if he is allowed to say anything. You could not even argue with him. Not when he was alwas beside you. Not when he saw everything you do.
'You don't have to tell me...everything now.' Je continued quietly. From the corner of your eye you could see that his head turned to look at you, but that only made you stare at the wall more vigorously. 'But you don't have to hide it either'.
In that moment you could not think of anything else, then the worst answer possible.
'I am fine.'
Harry didn't even bothered to hide the sight that left from him. He just knew you would say that at some point.
'No. I don't think you are.' He turned his head to the embers of the fire in the chimney. 'It's okay. But you don't have to go through this alone. Stoping this can be really difficult, but you have us.' His voice carried such hope and certainty that you almost falled into it.
I am writing something different than before, its about harry james potter, and i think i want to go a little deeper with one, so it will probably be loneger, but still not sure how it will look in the end. Stay tuned, it should be posted by the end of this week
summary; Capitan Jack Sparrow offers you a boat ride in exchange for his freedom
warnings; none
masterlistÂ
english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes
âAre you a pirate?â The underground cells reeked of mustiness, damp and something you preferred not even to guess at. The small openings in the walls overlooking the sea let in neither much air nor much light, and because of the lack of light, you could not make out the prisonerâs full figure.Â
The silence was broken only by a bored adjustment of his hat and the groans of the other prisoners. âAre you a pirate?â you asked again, growing slightly annoyed at the lack of a reply.Â
'Does daddy know you're here?' a low, irritated voice came from the cell. 'I... you didnât answer the question.' You stood there with your hands resting on the cell bars. How dare he ask such ambiguous, inappropriate questions? It wasnât even that it was humiliatingâthough it wasâbut his irritated, mocking tone.Â
'Aye, Captain Jack Sparrow,' he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. He raised his hand, and the hat that had been covering his face the whole time landed on the ground right next to him.Â
He looked you up and down, and a smirk crept onto his lips when he saw the light-coloured dress with its ornate, embroidered bodice. 'Do you know where the keys are?' You chuckled mockingly at his question. 'I won't let you out of here.' You felt more confident, sensing that you were starting to gain the upper hand over the pirate.Â
'So why are you here?' The question took you by surprise, as you couldnât think of a single goodâor at least plausible and appropriateâreason. He looked once more at the embroidered bodice and the silk fabric of the dress.Â
âIs your father the governor, lass?â His eyes fixed on you with that piercing gaze, as if he already knew everything about you and was simply testing whether you would succumb to his charms.Â
'Heâs a lord,â you replied, wondering whether you should be revealing such details at all.Â
'I see. Your fatherâs busy with important matters like signing useless bits of paper, and youâre bored with your life, so when heâs not keeping an eye on you, you do things you shouldnât, like exploring the cells and talking to a pirate?âÂ
You let go of the bars, feeling both surprised and humiliated at the same time. All the thoughts swirling round in your headâand all the things you could have saidâseemed pointless, because you both knew he was right. So you turned away without a word and took a few steps, trying to get away from him as quickly as you could.Â
'If you let me go, I'll take you to my ship; we can sail around the island.'Â
At those words, you stopped in your tracks, torn between the chance to sail on a real ship and the fact that you shouldnât trust a pirate.Â
And yet there you were, standing in front of him, holding the key to the cell heâd been so desperate to escape from. âI have to be home before sunset, and no one must find out that I let you out, do you understand?â You kept glancing at him as he watched you open the door.Â
âAye, darlingâÂ
Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think, I am still learning.
I apologise for any mistakes, english is not my first language.
â He would give you a lot of gifts, but not the bought ones. He would make you neckleces out of stones and crystals he found on his travels and adventures, or bring you something he found just becouse it reminded him of you.
â His love language is acts of service, there is no arguing on that. Those are mostly small things; everyday task he does so you don't have to, taking care of you, fixing your things before you even notice they are broken, but he does every one of them with great love for you.
â As a ranger he would be frustrated that he could not give you a stable and comfortable life you deserve.
â Forehead kisses are his way to go whenever you are sad, tired, embarassed or happy. Any time is good for forehead kisses.
â If he would leave you behind on his adventures, he would write you letters. Every other day you would receive a piece of paper which looked as if it came out of the hand of a four year old with his messy writing.But you loved reading them anyway.
â He would love to have a family with you, and he catches himself imagining about your children. Although he would have doubts about raising children in such unstable world.
Hi. Thank you so musch for reading. I apologise for any mistakes, and I am sorry for such a long break.
summary; wraping a hair ribbon around Faramir's arm before battle
warnings; talks about death, let me know if there is something more
masterlistÂ
'This is madness, you know this' she watched as the servant was fastening his chain mail, and every clatter of hooves echoing from the lower circles of the city sounded in her ears like a countdown to inevitable failure. 'Do you not hear me?' It was no longer possible to hide the sobbing plea in her voice. She could no longer think of anything but the sight of his cold, lifeless body lying amid the rubble of the fallen city, with dust settling upon vacant eyes and head cast limply against shattered stones.Â
She walked over to him and grabbed the clasp the servant had been struggling with; realizing the implication, he stepped back, bowed, and walked away. As she finished fastening the chainmail, she rested her forehead against his shoulder, sighing softly. She breathed in the scent of leather and steel â the scent of a man whose heartbeat she could still feel against her fingers, if she had only let her hand rest on his chest. They both gazed out of the window at the city where one of their fates was soon to be sealed.
Seeing that her attempts to persuade him to stay were coming to nothing, she raised her hands and undid the braid held in place by an emerald ribbon. The colour of the silk, so vivid against the backdrop of a greyed world, seemed almost surreal. âI know you donât believe in it, but I need you to wear this todayâ she whispered, tying the fabric around his arm to serve as a bond that might pull him back to her.Â
He looked down at his arm, where the ribbon had been tied. Faramir stood silently as if he were waiting for more pleas, more entreaties not to listen to his mad father who was sending his son to the slaughter, but nothing of the sort happened. 'This time, I will not promise you' he finally said, his voice low and stripped of all hope and illusion.
So sorry that I haven't wrote anything for such a long time, I am currently writing something with Faramir, but I need your help with a decision. Which perspective do you like reading more? Or maybe you like the second one?
