#a mum with a very dark bloody past but she’s quite soft now. She cuts his fruit into shapes idk how she does it

[solargeist]

grian we will keep u AWAY from flora after that 😭

Right 💥💥💥 she is not able to gauge how weak or strong players are, she’s very much like, I can do it, why can’t you do it ? 🤔🤔🤔

not a good mindset to have..

she comes from a twilight forest server, shes survived on her own for a long time as a player, but grian comes from a community of friends, so there’s an obvious difference in their abilities.

she’s not gonna kill him or cause ~severe physical harm, but they don’t get along, u can see Why 😭

[bcdaily]

jily childhood friends running into each other years later?

Ta-dah! Thank you for the prompt! Now I have to write shorter things, or I’ll never get another done. XD

She knew that hair.

It was a glimpse—a fleeting hint of familiar dark chaotic strands protruding above the multitude of milling heads inside the crowded hotel lobby. Lily stopped where she stood, certain—certain…but that was foolish, surely? It was hair. Billions of people had hair. Even distinctive hair like that. And what would he be doing here, what were the chances…She darted left, slipping through other conference attendees, following the bobbing head of black. Her fingers toyed absently with the lanyard around her neck. Her feet kept moving. She was closing in. But—shit—he was turning into the next doorway. She’d lose him—

“Potter!” she shouted.

The bobbing black head stopped in the doorway threshold. He turned.

Something pulled inside Lily’s chest.

God, it was.

His mouth—an older mouth; familiar features spread across a matured frame, sharper and wider—formed her name. A question. His head tilted.

She squirmed around the last huddled group of conference-goers blocking her path. A middle-aged skeletal bloke shot her an annoyed look as she prodded past him. A server carrying a tray of canapés swerved around her. She wished the tray had been alcohol. She might need it. She wasn’t sure.

James Potter had grown up to be tall. Cresting six feet, easily. His limbs were long, his chest wide, but his hair—that hair—hadn’t changed a bit. Neither had his smile: bright, crooked, with the same infectious delight he’d managed so easily at eleven, now captured just the same in a man of twenty-four.

Twenty-four. They were twenty-four now. She hadn’t seen him in thirteen years.

“Lily Evans,” he said, audibly this time, and the smile grew brighter. “Shit.”

“Shit,” Lily repeated, laughing. Now that there was nowhere to go, no further crowds to weave through, no mop of dark hair to stalk, she was not quite sure what to do. She hadn’t thought past the part of just confirming it was him. Somehow, magically, him. Strange, strange, strange. Now they were standing before each other and—

And he was good-looking.

Had been, back then, at eleven. But that was eleven, and those things didn’t often last. Features shifted. Bodies changed. Conventions came and went at whim. Who could keep up?

James Potter could, apparently.

Not that that was the point. She hadn’t chased him down because he was fit. She could only see his head, for Christ’s sake. She hadn’t known. Not about the height, about the posh specs and the twinkling hazel eyes, about the tanned, sculpted forearms revealed beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down. It wasn’t—

He eyed her, eyeing him. “Do we…hug…or…?”

She snorted. “I don’t know.”

“Reckon I ruined it by asking.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Not as natural now.”

“Yes, quite ruined.”

“Ah, well. Will do better next time. Meet again in another…what’s it been? A decade or so?”

“Thirteen years, by my count.”

“Thirteen? Bloody hell, I can’t wait another thirteen years. I’ll be dead. Let’s just—”

And then somehow he was hugging her, and Lily was laughing again, and her fingers were digging into his back as she clutched him to her.

He had a nice back, James Potter did.

A nice smell, too.

The first boy she’d ever kissed remembered to shower. Lovely.

In the past ten seconds, she’d grown greedy and impetuous. As he pulled away, she darted up on her toes and dropped a hasty kiss to his cheek. Stolen, like a criminal. She was in a hotel lobby filled with barristers, and not a single one could convict her, so stealthy was she.

His fingers trailed down her arm as their bodies detangled. Her skin burned along the path.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, stepping back. She really, really needed to step back. “I mean, it’s good to see you—strange to see you, really, but—you’re a barrister?”

It didn’t fit the James Potter in her head. The boy who’d grown up alongside her, had lived in the sprawling, noble house at the top of the hill, running wild with the lot of them in Cokesworth, until he wasn’t. That boy had certainly had the cleverness and confidence to pull off law, but not the patience or deference to its structures and politics. He would’ve collapsed under the piles of paperwork. He would have crowed agony at the rules, the formalities, the bureaucracy. Had that swotty boarding school his parents’ packed him off to changed him so very much?

James pulled a face. “Fuck me, no. I’m running the catering for the conference. My mum—”

“—owned a restaurant,” Lily recalled, somehow delighted not to have pegged him wrong. She closed her eyes wistfully. “God, that’s right. When you moved, we were all bereft. I think I still smell that eggplant appetizer of hers in my dreams.”

“The caponata?” His grin turned sneaky. “She still has it on the menu.”

“Where?”

“Casa. SoHo.”

Lily had heard of it. To think, James Potter, her childhood friend and mild fixation, just a few tube stops away, for who knew how long. “So you’re in London?”

“Since university,” he confirmed. Then his head tilted, and the sneaky smile turned coy. “So you’re a barrister? In London?”

“Yes.” She waved her conference lanyard like a white flag, surrender. “Wildly disappointed?”

“No. It fits.” Humour weaved through his voice—deeper and cooler now, all grown up. “No one could ever win an argument with you. And I tried. It was fun.”

He’d been a menace. He’d taken such delight from getting a rise out of her. But even as children, talking with him had been addicting. There were so few who could match wits with her, even fewer who didn’t take it personally, who dusted themselves off after a rousing debate and stuck out their hand, a shake of respect for the good time. James Potter had been like that. It’s why she’d cornered him behind a tree in the park where they all used to play, just before his parents had packed up house and he’d left for boarding school. With his back against the tree bark, she’d pressed her lips against his and waited to see what he did with it.

He’d cupped her chin with both of his hands and pressed his lips harder against hers.

It was closed-mouths, mere seconds. A first for both of them.

But to this day, Lily’s knees still went weak when someone held her face.

Silly. Stupid. She talked about work to make the memory go away.

“A bit less fun now. It’s mostly forms and deadlines and”—she waved her hand around the room—“swotty, deadly dull networking conferences. I’m just out of school. I hardly do anything yet.”

“But you’re good at it,” James stated, definitive.

She didn’t bother to hide her preen. Was wary by how much pleasure she took out of his automatic confidence in her. “Yes. I’m very good at it.”

They stared at each other, grinning.

He had a girlfriend. Lily was certain of it. There was no way this man did not have a significant other. Or maybe there was a very good reason, because she knew absolutely nothing about him. She hadn’t seen him in thirteen years. Entire lives were lived in thirteen years. Who knew what kind of person he was now? He could cut a dashing figure, hold a conversation, but maybe he also cut up bodies in his flat for fun. Maybe he bit his toenails. Maybe he liked The Big Bang Theory. Maybe he drank milk straight from the carton and then put it back in the fridge.

“You didn’t grow up ugly, James Potter,” she said.

“I looked you up on Instagram a few times,” he replied immediately. “You never post pictures of yourself. But I like your cat.”

“His name is Bosley.”

“I know.”

Lily squinted at him. “What else do you know?”

Hazel eyes gleamed. “Interesting question.”

James Potter’s hands were much larger now. If he worked with his mum in her restaurant, they were probably rough—calloused from use, nicked with cuts and crevasses from an absent knife or oil burned too hot. Eleven-year-old James’s hands had been cool and soft. This James’s hands wouldn’t be.

Lily quelled a shiver.

“You—”

“James?” A server appeared out of the doorway behind him, looking frazzled. “They left behind a case of champagne. I don’t know how. The quiche is running low, and Darnell is feeling ill. What—”

“Send Darnell home. I’ll—” He let out a dissatisfied hum, glancing at Lily, then back at the server. His lips pulled into a frown. He swept a hand through his hair. “Sorry—”

Lily waved him off, though her spirits sank. “No, don’t be silly. Work calls. Feed the hungry. Go.”

He hesitated, his eyes skimming her. “Will you—we’re just catering the event tonight. Swotty and deadly dull, yeah? So you’ll probably skive as soon as you can.”

“No.” She didn’t have any reason to say it so firmly, so quickly. That was just the way it came out. “Work calls for me too. I’ll be here.”

“Yeah?” The frown righted slowly.

She couldn’t believe how ridiculous she was being. Maybe how ridiculous they were both being. She could be a serial killer, for all he knew. Did he not care for the health and safety of his own pretty little head?

Her plan had been to duck out of this conference opening mixer as soon as was physically possible. They were unbearable. That shouldn’t change.

“Yeah,” she said instead.

She was eleven years old, heart fluttering behind a tree. She was an idiot.

“Good.” His body turned, but he was still looking at her. He nodded and repeated, “Good.”

Lily lifted her hand. “Thanks for the hug. See you in thirteen years?”

He smiled. “Something like that.”

She watched his back as he turned through the doorway, stared at the familiar mop of hair until it disappeared around the next corner.

She pivoted on her heels slowly, feeling silly and prickly.

In her pocket, her phone vibrated. She pulled it out and absently glanced at the screen.

She laughed.

James Potter had requested to follow her on Instagram. And he sent her a message.

You didn’t grow up ugly either, Lily Evans, it read.

She was twenty-four years old, heart fluttering in the middle of a hotel.

She shook her head, and pressed ACCEPT.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Son of none

Based off this post: Aka Percy Weasley was abandoned by his family and I don’t think they realised just how much danger an 18 civilian blood traitor son would be when stuck behind enemy lines. Well never fear, a fic is here as if I don’t have any other drafts...any whoooo

@transparentfreakpursepanda

Warning for blood, torture, self loathing. Mentions of bullying and neglect. Cursing.

(Also while writing this I was listening to Polaris by Natewantstobattle and...yeah if you want more angst while reading this listen to them and think of Percy :)  )

Percy deserved this.

Knowing that didn't change things. It didn’t make it easier to make it duck past the office that had once belonged to Barty Crouch Sr without feeling dread and greif. As harsh as the man could be and that he had not bothered to learn Percy's name... Percy still mourned his loss. For all that he was, Barty Crouch Sr had been a good man.

Life at the ministry taught him quickly, that kind of wizard was few and far between.

He wondered if the look Barty Crouch Sr had shared with his son before his death wax the same his father had shared with him the day he left.

Maybe it wasn't wise to compare yourself to a deranged murderer, but if that's the kind of wizard his family thought he was...

"Weasley"

It was stern, drenched in spite that was not unlike his old potions professor. But sadly even Snapes treatment of him in class did not hold a candle to what was happening now.

Percy lifted his head, it felt heavy. Infact all of him felt that he was on fire. The figure infront of him came into focus, not that Perch could quite recall his name. Edward? No that didn't seem right. Not Edward was his wand in hand and looked very annoyed, his dark mark was on full display.

Percy became very well aware in that moment that he couldn't move. He was bound to a chair in a room that looked very much like a cellar. He was still in his ministry robes, though they were dirty and tattered and stained in something.

It took Percy longer than he should've to realise it was his own blood. Not that he knew where he was bleeding from. "You Gryffindors and your bloody stubbornness" sneered Not Edward, he was a broad man, towering over Percy.

"You're wasting my time, and yours of you don't hurry up and tell me where your family is hiding." Percy shook his head, defiantly even if his body protested at the sudden movement. "Like I said before, even if I did know, I would never tell you." 

And than Not Edward would shout profanities all the while using his subordinates to use Percy as target practice till he passed out. That had been the cycle for... Well he wasn't sure for how long. Apart from the first time when Percy had weaved a convincing story about the family heading to Romania to hide away with Charlie...a whole false hunt that ended with the brand he now had on his arm. 

But this time was different.

Not Edward smirked "thought you'd say that, no matter. We've found out how to get there attention, and they'll hand themselves over." Percy laughed, it was a strangled and it sent another wave of pain through his body.

Not Edward was still smirking, in fact if anything his confidence grew. "And better yet, you're going to the bait that brings them here." And that stopped Percy laughing at once, he was quieter. "What makes you think they'd come" the words were barely above a whisper that echoed throughout the room.

Not Edward (Percy really needed to learn this man's name for his own internal monologue's sake) rolled his eyes "don't pull that on me, you Weasely's are more attached than a bunch of grapes. Rest assured, they'll be coming one way or another."

With that he left. Percy tried not to think about the fact a death eater had more confidence in his families arrival than he did. His mind wandered to the day he left, guilt pooled in his stomach. No amount of head trauma would erase the disgust and rage in Arthur’s eyes, Percy knew at that moment he had lost all right to call the man father. 

He could never look him in the eye again, he couldn’t even look himself in the mirror without seeing him staring back. His mothers eyes haunted him, she’d been the only one to try to reach out but he had slammed that back in her face. Not that Percy should have been surprised, he’d always been a parasite. 

If anything they must’ve been relived to be rid of him. 

They wouldn’t come, he knew that. Than why did his heart race, did tears threaten to fall and his stomach churn at the thought? Percy thought of his siblings, young and old...they wouldn’t have given him a second thought. Fred and George would mourn the loss of their favourite target, but they would move on they all would if they hadn’t already. 

For Percy though, this was the end of the line. 

_______________________________________________________________

Weasley family dinners were always something else, Bill knew this better than most. He smiled to Fleur who sat at his side, amusement on her face as they both watched Molly do as she does best. It was organised chaos at its finest, and while Shell cottage was a far cry from the Burrow, somehow it all came together. Harry was laughing at a story Ginny and the twins were telling, Charlie and Hermione were actually helping Molly along with Arthur. 

But even with how familiar it was, it was missing a certain brother rolling his eyes at the story and telling the true ending to the annoyance of the twins. Who would than direct the others to helping out with dinner to there mothers amusement. 

Percy. 

Ever since the watch, a muggle watch at that had arrived on his wedding day, with no name for the sender but only Bill’s name signed by an all too familiar handwriting...Bill hadn’t been able to take his mind of his little brother. His absence at his wedding and just seeing him around the house stuck out like a sore thumb to Bill. He wasn’t the only one either, he could see how his Mum would pause her eyes searching before looking down and moving onto something else.

Much like now when she put down the plates and realised that she’d left a little extra to the side. “Mum, I get that you miss him but you can’t keep doing this. Percy’s not coming back” the first to say it was Charlie, his voice soft like he was talking to an irate dragon. “Good riddance” that came from Ginny, in that whisper that wasn’t even trying to be quiet. 

Instantly Molly became much like a dragon. “Ginevera Molly Weasley, don’t you dare speak about your brother like that!” She yelled, hot tears burning in her eyes. “Molly...” Interjected Arthur, putting a calming hand on his wife’s shoulder “you can’t blame her for her anger. Come on, let’s dig in.” And that should have been the end of it but Molly turned to him, her own temper boiling. 

“Don’t you start, Arthur. Don’t you tell me I should be sat eating dinner while my son is out all alone.” She spat. “Mum, it’s fine Percy’s probably having high tea with the new minister, talking about the importance of  cauldron bottoms” snickered Fred, “pfft yeah, just sat around telling the dark lord about his book report” agreed George. Bill frowned, as did Fleur but that was nothing compared to Molly. 

Her gaze hardened and the twins shut up instantly, they’d never seen her this mad. “I dont care if you hate him, I don’t care if this isn’t my home...you speak of my son following HIM, get out of my sight now.” She said, slumping into a nearby chair. Bill stood up, putting his own hand in his mums which she took gratefully. “Percy may be the most ambitious lion around, but he wouldn’t join you know who. He left to join the ministry because that's what he believed in, death eaters isn’t even in the equation.”

And Bill meant those words. More than he ever thought he would. 

“Though is there any difference between the death eaters and the ministry anymore?” Asked Harry, the place was filled with them after all. “Yeah? Might be but they’ve kept the employees, not that I know what’s going on in there anymore.” Said Arthur, adding his 2 galleon’s into the mix. “And there not going to take kindly to a Weasley” Said Hermione, making everyone look down as if they hadn’t just realised that. 

It didn’t matter if Percy had disowned himself, his family was very much publicly fighting the people he was now stuck with. 

And that was when fate decided to be extra cruel and the radio burst into life. 

“Greetings from the Ministry. Our daily transmission has already been received today but we have an exceptional treat for the wizarding public. We will be instead hosting an interview with one of our newest employees, give a hand folks to Percival Ignatius Weasley.”

Everyone in the room froze, and yet Ron who was the only one of the family minus Fleur not to speak, ran to the radio and put the volume as loud as he could. 

“Say hello your family, Percival.” Taunted the voice, it was very gleeful as it spoke. No response was heard. “Oh, silly me I forgot how many hours you young people work, not to worry let’s get him up boys.” 

A splash was heard and a shuddering scream. “Morning Percival, sorry do you prefer Percy? Don’t care, lets start the interview. So Percival, how are you finding the ministry?” Everyone sat with baited breathe.

And yet it was there Percy who, through shuddered breaths managed to whisper a “fuck you...fuck you and your ministry”

“Well that is very rude, and here I thought your mother would have taught you manners” “don’t...don’t you talk about her.” Said Percy, Molly broke down into tears and Bill held her close. Unable to tear his gaze from the radio, no one could. 

“What do you want to say them? I’m sure they’ve missed you. In fact, just for you we’ll be hosting a party. And there all invited to the ministry, so long as they bring a certain Mr Potter.” 

There was a silence before “don’t come...don’t. Whatever you do, don’t... it’s fine. I’m fine, I love it here.” He laughed, everyone cringed at the sound he made, as if he was choking. “It’s fine, don’t come...parties are overrated yeah.” The transmission started cutting off, Ron frantically along with the twins tried to get it working. 

They heard “too busy. Don’t come, Harry don’t...stay where you are!” Before the  transmission cut off.

No one could speak, horror was etched into all of there faces. The twins were scrabbling over themselves with wand in hand to track where the transmission had come from. 

The Ministry. 

“We’re going...now” said Molly, standing up. Her tears were gone, grabbing for her wand and coat. “Molly...be rationale, we need to plan this.” Said Arthur, Molly spun on her heel and glared. “I am not going to sit here while those...monsters torture MY son! Planning will take to long, did you hear him Arthur?! Did you hear your son crying out in pain...he doesn’t have long left...” Arthur looked down, unable to respond. 

Molly looked at the rest of the family, her gaze saying it all: You can come with me or you can stay. The first to stand was Bill, closely followed by Fleur who met his thankful gaze with a determined smile. Charlie and Ron were next, grabbing there wands with Harry and Hermione following. Ginny and the twins exchanged guilty looks but stood. Arthur couldn’t look at any of them, he simply picked up his wand. 

“Harry, I understand if you wish to stay” said Molly, he shook his head. “I might not know him well but Percy’s family 2...I cant sit here while you guys go even with the danger.” He replied, and somehow that was all it was, Percy was family...enough said. 

And so the family of lions got up and left, to find the one they left behind. 

_______________________________________________________

Percy was terrified.

A part of him argued that he should be grateful they came at all for him. Maybe it was out of pity, out of ensuring that he wasn't able to be used against them.

Yes, that's all it was. He was nothing afterall, he was merely a civilian in a war.

And yet hearing Molly tearfully and frantically whisper his name. Hearing Hermione yell the counterspell to his imprisonment to Ron who did so perfectly. Seeing the light of spells cast by Ginny and the twins to stun Not Edward... (Who was apparently called Edgar... Eh close enough.)

Feeling Charlie carry him in his arms, mumbling curse words. Smelling Arthur's cologne.

It all felt right. It was warmth that he couldn't remember experiencing. It was enough to lull him to a facade that everything was fine.

But when his wounds were healed and he saw them all looking at him... Percy knew he had to shelf that dream. "I told you not to come" was the first thing he said, averting his gaze. (Couldn't look them in the eye)

"And you must've lost a few screws if you thought we wouldn't" said Bill, meeting Percy's gaze. "You shouldn't have" is all he replied. "And what, let you be killed by the ministry?" Gaped Ginny. Percy shrugged "wouldn't have made much difference, you've only gone and put yourselves in more danger."

"Are you... Are you fucking with us right now?" Asked Fred, incredously. "No, im too busy ranting about cauldron bottoms to do that." And if Fred paused, Percy didn't see it.

Seeing as no one was getting anyway, Bill sat beside Percy who immediately felt on edge. "Thanks for the watch" he said simply. Everyone blinked in confusion and than realisation as no one has known where Bill's new watch had come from. Percy smiled faintly "You're welcome, reminded me of you."

"Although, I do wish you could've gave it in person" continued Bill, testing the waters. Percy surprised him by shaking his head "no you wouldn't have. It was your day, I wasn't going to ruin it." Bill frowned "is that what you think?" Percy shrugged again "it's what I've been told."

"You are way to chill after being tortured" said Charlie, Percy looked at his bandaged arms and snorted. "Eh? It's nothing new. That guy was just there for the theatrics, sadist if you ask me." Charlie raised an eyebrow "nothing new?" Percy nodded "yeah, what you think the ministry that's so far up Voldermorts ass would allow me to work there without some 'interviews'."

Everyone paled.

"But than why stay there?" Asked Arthur, Percy froze. Steeling himself, switching from calm to panic to calm in an instant but they all saw. "I've got business there, things I need to get done and ensure are done. Speaking of which, thanks for the rescue but I should be off."

He didn't belong here. Not anymore.

"Percy, you can stay." Said Molly, already standing up to get his room prepared. "No, I can't. I have work, I have a duty... And I'm no longer part of this family." When he said that, Percy felt like the wind was knocked out of him but stood his ground. "Percy... That's not true.."

Percy met Arthur's gaze, his father's eyes. "Really? Than pray tell why did no one tell me you were all in hiding... Or a warning? And don't say it was impossible because I managed to send a parcel to a location I didn't even know about nor knew existed."

No one could answer that.

"I'll be off, and don't worry I won't tell them anything. Just do what you do best, and leave me alone." Arthur managed to grab Percy's wrist though he hissed in pain and pulled his arm back like he'd been burnt. "Don't.. Touch me, Arthur Weasely."

Arthur recoiled, Percy looked away. "I spent my whole life wanting to be someone you could be proud off...I listened to all the critism and yes I was a prat. But the moment I made my own choice you already made me aware I didn't belong in my own house. I’m sorry...that I’m not athletic like Ginny, I’m not smart like Ron or as successful as Bill and Charlie, I’m not a hero like a Ron or fun like Fred and George. That I’m just plain ol prat Percy.”

He began to walk away. Just like he did before.

"That choice was against following Dumbledor, turning against the light." Said Molly, wanting him to understand. Percy laughed, with no humour at all but glaring hard. Rage emanated from him.

"I'm sorry if I choose not to stand behind an old coot who routinely sends an abused boy to his abusers, who nearly got 3 11 yearolds killed because he wanted to weed out a possibility. Who nearly got thousands of children killed and did nothing to save Ginny with the chamber. The man who wouldn't give an innocent man a trial and got him sent to the worst prison for 12 years... Who put teenagers in a death game and let an underage kid join because why not. That man is a monster and I refuse to follow someone like that. But no that means I'm blindly following authority." He sneered, staring at them all.

"And the ministry? Because as corrupt and fucked up as it is I know I can do something. That changes can be made in the systems to benefit everyone, Dumbledor is someone who breeds child solider’s and let's a known abuser teach at his school and somehow I’m the only one who isn't okay with that."

And with that Percy left, no one knew what to say. They simply sat in silence, absorbing everything they just heard. Ginny thought about how Percy had profusely apologised after she was free from the chamber, how he’d made time for her since than. Ron thought of all the times they’d have an adventure and Percy would watch over them like a mother hen. 

Bill and Charlie recalled when Percy would still come to them for help before he started Hogwarts. When they found him bruised and broken from bullies except this was because of them. “He really thinks that doesn’t he...?” Said Fred, George nodded. Neither could smile, guilt pooled in their hearts that they didn’t think he felt like that. 

Molly sobbed for her son who was once again lost and Arthur wondered where he had gone wrong to lose his son all over again. 

________________________________________________

Meanwhile Percy entered a muggle flat in London. Alone again just like he belonged, laying on his bed and looking at the brand on his arm.

'Son of none'

And if that didn't hurt most of all.

Suffice to say they all things to think about for when they’d meet again. 

[ourloveisforthelovely]

One Chance (one shot)

Harry Potter Marauders Era 

Request:  hey so i was thinking could you might do a regulus x reader where the reader is like sassy or maybe all cold hearted? i honestly love ur page but i cant never relate with the reader bc she is always too soft 😭 maybe like if they understood each others depression and then end up falling in love? idk how to explain

To the annon who requested this: I hope that you enjoy

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M

_____________

“Y/n, Regulus Black has been looking at you for the past 10 minutes.” 

You didn’t bother looking up from your potions book when your friend Anastasia spoke. The last thing that you wanted to deal with was Regulus Black and his stupid good looks. 

“He needs to look somewhere else.”

You commented. Regulus Black had been staring at you a lot lately and it was beginning to get under your skin. Before a few weeks ago Regulus had nothing to do with you. It didn’t matter that the two of you had always been in the same house for the past 6 years or that the two of you had friends in the same circle. In fact, he took extra measure to not speak to you. 

The best that you could come up with was he was uncomfortable with you going on a date with his old brother. Your heart hurt thinking about that particular time in your life. That was when you were an innocent sweet 4th year. Sirius dated you for all of a week before dumping you for some pretty Ravenclaw with blond hair and big boobs. 

This was also the time that your depression really started kicking in. You weren't quite sure how to deal with all of the feelings swirling through your head. From dealing with your first break up to all of these dark and intrusive thoughts...you didn’t know how to cope. None of your friends seemed to understand either. A few of them chose to ignore what you were going through. The rest didn’t know how to deal with constant sarcastic comments. Now you had a few that stuck with you because it was in their best interest. If someone bothered them, you would chew the miserable fuckers ass out that caused them grief. This was a healthier outlet than sinking a knife into your arm. 

Being at home was no better. Your mum tried to constantly get you off of the couch to do things but she didn’t seem to understand that you wanted nothing to do with whatever she was doing. Her words of…

“Stop lying on the couch like a giant hairball and do something. Go enjoy the day.” 

Apparently you mother didn’t understand that you definition of “enjoying the day” meant being left the fuck alone. 

That is one of the reasons that you preferred being at school. You could find peaceful places to be left alone.

Anastasia spoke again, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“He probably thinks that you are pretty, Y/n. You really are a lovely girl.”

“Go get your eyes checked. Anna, I have as much luck with boys as a turtle does crossing the road.” 

You muttered as the bell rang. 

Not a moment too soon. 

You thought as you stood to gather up your things. You were getting away from Anastasia and her mind numbing questions. Walking to the door you ran into a hard body. 

Looking up, Regulus Black had turned around to just who the fuck ran into him. He blinked a few times the moment that your eyes met. 

“Watch where you are going, Black.”

You hissed. Regulus automatically frowned. 

“You ran into me.” 

“So, you aren’t moving fast enough?”

You replied, not missing a beat. Regulus seemed a bit surprised by your comment. He wasn’t for sure why you were hostile toward him. In all of the years that he had known you, with the exception of year 1 and 2, you acted like he had personally fucked you over. 

Regulus couldn’t help admitting that you were a lovely girl but your sarcastic hostile nature was a bit off putting. He had decided the year before just to avoid you at all costs. This year, however, he understood more about you. You were as depressed as he was. Regulus never understood it until this year. 

Over the summer, Sirius ran off to James Potter’s abandoning his family. Regulus didn’t know how to put into words how he felt about it either. There was sinking in the middle of his stomach that never seemed to go away. It was there when he went to sleep at night and was waiting when he awoke the next morning. Regulus honestly never thought that he would be happy again. 

He figured that returning to school would soothe those feelings. Regulus would be back with his best friends and would have no reason to think of Sirius. Unfortunately, the moment that he stepped into the great hall and saw his brother sitting at the Gryffindor table smiling and laughing. There was clearly no sadness in Sirius over the events of the summer. This sent Regulus into a deeper depression. His brother didn’t miss him and never would.

“You know most people just say excuse me and go on about their business.” 

Regulus replied. 

“Just get out of my way.”

You hissed and moved to get around him. Regulus honestly didn’t deserve your venom. He, after all, had done absolutely nothing to you. 

He hasn’t done anything to you but you have no reason to trust him. Regulus will probably be just like his brother. You’ll get attached and have your heart broken. 

You thought. It wasn’t fair to compare Regulus to Sirius when they were obviously such different people but you couldn’t help it. Most guys, no matter the house, was the same. 

As you walked down the hall, you wanted nothing more than to have some time alone. You decided to walk down to the lake. A free period was just what you needed! 

Sitting down, you took out a book and quietly began to read. It wasn’t until you were on paragraph two did you realize that someone was standing in front of you. Looking up, again your eyes met Regulus Black’s. 

“What now, Black?” 

You questioned. He put his hands on his hips feeling a bit annoyed. After the exchange in the potions, he decided that it was time for both of you to have a little chat. 

“You and I need to talk.”

“Whatever about?”

You questioned as he sat down. 

“I want to know why you hate me so bad?”

“I never said that I hated you.” 

Regulus chuckled. 

“Sure could have fooled me. You are always glaring at me like I personally offended you.” 

You put your book down. 

“I just don't like being oogled by some guy who is going to screw me over.” 

Regulus raised an eyebrow. 

“You don’t know me.” 

“Yeah, I know your brother. All guys are the same so it doesn’t matter who you are.”

The response came out a little snipper than you planned. Standing up, you turned to storm back to the castle. Just who the fuck did Regulus think that he was? So what if he was a member of the Black family? 

Woo-freaking-who.

“First, off you don’t know anything about me. I am nothing like my brother. If you would give me a bloody chance you would see that. I see what you are doing Y/n. I get it you use sarcasm and cold humor to cope. I do it too. As much as you want to come across as this tough girl who doesn’t need anyone, you're actually quite lonely…again I get it.” 

You stopped before turning to face Regulus. He sat with his knees drawn to his chest. Dark eyes looked up at you with an intensity that you had never seen on his face before. 

“I don’t like this, Regulus.”

He smirked. 

“You don’t like someone figuring out who you are, Y/n. You don’t want people seeing that inside you are actually in pain. Again, I can relate.” 

Regulus stood and walked down closer to the lake. 

“My brother, who I know that you dated and I know he did you wrong, he abandoned our family over the summer. Now...everything is up to me. I am the only heir to the Black family. I have to do everything and I don’t fucking want to. I want to do whatever it is I want and there not be repercussions for my actions. However, that won’t be able to happen now.” 

You frowned and watched him curiously. 

“And why is that? Why can’t you just walk away? You’ll be an adult soon. Tell them to fuck off.”

Regulus laughed. 

“If only it were that easy. You see my mother, she depends on me and I can’t let her down. If you knew my family, you would understand.”

You had heard plenty of rumors about the Black family. Regulus’ mother sounded like the typical pureblood mother. Maybe a bit darker than what your mother was but a pureblood mother all the same. 

“I’m sure our families are very similar. Lovely bunch, purebloods.” 

Regulus laughed bitterly at that. There wasn’t much that was lovely about being a pureblood when your mother was Walburga Black. 

“Then you will understand why we have to do things that we don’t want to do. For example, being a death eater.” 

“Regulus…”

He automatically pulled up his sleeve to show you the dark mark on his arm. Regulus wasn’t surprised when you made no facial expression. He had a feeling that you had seen your fair share of dark marks lately. 

“My mother and father were okay with me doing it. Actually, they were quite proud that their son was doing the right thing...the just thing. I think I am too...at points. There are other times that I am not for sure. I see your face. You have the same expression. I bet you about 10 galleons, if you pull up your sleeves there are going to very similar cut marks...sometimes it gets too much.” 

You looked down. For the first time, your tough exterior faded. 

“You do it too...cut your wrists?”

Regulus nodded. 

“Physical pain is better than mental pain, at times. Maybe we understand each other more than we thought?” 

Your crossed arms slowly dropped to your sides.

“Maybe. We could also really hurt each other.” 

Regulus’ hopeful smile fell. 

“Or help each other. I don’t know what my brother did to you but I’m not him. Sirius and I have nothing in common except our last names. I mean, our last name is literally all that we have in common. You’ll get stupid bullshit with him. I’m on my A game. You wouldn’t have to guess what you were to me. All that you have to do is give me a chance. If it makes you feel better...I know where my brother is about this time of day and...well...sometimes Sirius isn’t so bright.” 

You snorted. 

“You could say that again. Fine, you have a chance. Don’t mess it up Regulus.” 

Regulus held out his hand with a small smile. Something told you to be wary. The depressive side said, no but something deep inside of you said yes.

You reached out and wrapped your hand around Regulus’. He gave you a small smile before tugging in you with him.  

“This is going to be funny.” 

You slipped through quiet corridors behind Regulus as he checked for any “little eyes” that would get into his way. He finally stopped the moment that he saw Sirius and James standing in an empty hallway playing “exploding snap.”

Regulus lightly elbowed you in the side before grinning. He had his wand out and muttered something low. You weren’t able to make out what he said but it didn’t matter. It looked as if someone had a bucket of water and dumped it all over Sirius and James. Both boys jumped back looking around wildly as another explosion of water knocked them off of their feet. James hit the ground first. Sirius reached out to help his best friend only to get hit in the face with water for the third time. He was knocked off his feet and directly on top of James. His elbow crashing into James’ crotch. James howled in pain as Sirius started rubbing his head where he hit the stone floor. 

“Pads, stop. You're killing me!”

James shrieked. Sirius was yelling about how truly sorry he was over and over. 

You, meanwhile, had to hold back a fit of rare laughter. Regulus, himself, was grinning as he turned the floor to ice. Both James and Sirius were sliding all over the place all the while screaming curse words after curse words.

“Whoever you are! We are going to fuck you up!” 

Sirius yelled as Regulus reached down and squeezed your hand. 

“This is where we make our exit. They are going to be sliding around for a while.” 

You ran after Regulus, until he pulled you into an empty classroom 

“That was fun.”

He commented. 

“Fucking brilliant. Watching them slide all over the place while looking like drowned ferrets was the best fun that I have had in awhile.” 

Regulus smiled, giving you a cocky smile. 

“That’s only the beginning. I have a lot better material...if you want to watch.” 

You reached up and pulled the taller boy down by his tie. Regulus was clearly a bit surprised but leaned right into the kiss. When he pulled away, you tossed your hair over his shoulder. 

“Watching is for babies. I want to help.” 

______

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[atruththatyoudeny]

Monthly Reads | June 2020

Another 28th, another fic rec for you. Here are all the fics I read and loved this month. Happy reading!

✸ Caves End | jacaranda_bloom | famous/not famous - slow burn - hurt/comfort - angst - minor injury - miscommunication - fluff - 40k When a recurring injury cuts short Harry’s time as the Captain of the English Football Team, he needs to rethink his career and his future. His best mate and manager, Niall, decides that what Harry really needs is a change of scenery, time to relax, and to get some perspective on his life. What Harry doesn’t expect is for them to end up in Australia, on a farm, with the most gorgeous man he’s ever laid eyes on. OR the one where Harry has lost his future, Louis has lost his past, but maybe together, they can find a way through the dark.

✸ Just for Tonight (I can be yours) | SadaVeniren | a/b/o - royalty - secret identity - secret realtionship - arranged marriage - mpreg - 42k Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth. He'd accepted a loveless marriage as his duty to his country, until an accident threw him in the path of a gentle alpha

✸ Falling in the Wrong Direction | FallingLikeThis | past character death - grief/mourning - homophobia - internalized homophobia - secrets - angst - fluff - hurt/comfort - emotional hurt/comfort - enemies to friends to lovers - 25k When Harry’s fiancé, Liam, passes away just before their wedding, he doesn’t know how to cope. As time goes on, Harry learns to heal, but is left living in the house his fiancé used to share with his best friends and Harry is uncovering a lot of secrets he didn’t know Liam had... while possibly falling for the one person who helped Liam keep them from him. Harry never quite got along with Louis, but maybe he’s the one person who can help Harry bridge the gap between the life he thought he would have and the one he is now living. A Catch and Release au

✸ we can only look behind | hereforlou | growing up together - childhood friends - slow burn - friends to lovers - friends with benefits - pining - internalized homophibia - Coming Out - 66k His mum said there was no getting an idea out of his head once it was stuck in there and Harry thought she was right. It wasn’t like he did it on purpose - his ideas were just really sticky. (Or, the one where Harry fixates through the years.)

✸ somewhere in between lightning | jassy117, nauticalleeds, shiningdistractionwrites | Love Island Au - exes to lovers - angst - pining - miscommunication - fluff - reality show - 99k As Louis took another bite, he thought back to how he had once believed that the hardest thing about being on Love Island would be Liam handling his social media. He had been wrong. It was Harry Styles, peeking over at Louis as he forked a pancake into his mouth, and gauging his reaction. It was having to quench the swelling of his heart, which felt simultaneously like hope and the breaking of a thousand pieces. --- A summer gone wrong (or very right) when, under Liam’s persuasion, Louis finds himself drunkenly applying for Love Island, and getting accepted. Oh, well. A summer spent on an island paradise couldn’t be all that bad, right? Imagine his surprise when Louis arrives in sunny Majorca to find that his first love and ex-boyfriend, Harry, is another contestant, about to capture the hearts of everyone in the villa. Most normal people don’t have to face their ex on an otherwise straight TV show. Most normal people don’t fall for their ex again in front of the whole nation, either. Too bad this whole situation isn’t normal.

✸ Dreams Once Remembered | Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew) | rape/non-con - kidnapping - mpreg - unplanned pregnancy - angst - emotional hurt/comfort therapy - child loss - kid fic - rape recovery - 78k 16-year-old Harry Styles is on the verge of a life-changing moment. He has been put in a band on The X-Factor and he and his new bandmates are about to get ready for a glorious adventure together. In one terrible moment, all of that is stolen from Harry. Kidnapped, Harry spends the next seven-and-a half-years in a twelve-by-twelve shed, suffering repeated assault at the hands of his captor. One of these assaults results in a daughter Harry has raised entirely on his own in the small space they call Room. Now that Darcy is five, Harry is determined that she be allowed to experience the real world, and he devises a plan for them to escape. Should they escape, there are many questions. Can Darcy adjust to the outside world? Can Harry start over? What kind of relationship, if any, can he have with the band that moved on without him? Even with success far from assured, Harry knows he has to take a chance. For him, and for his little girl.

✸ No Friends and An Empty Heart | Maelstrom_Roots | Fleabag AU - mentions of suicide - attempted sexual assault - therapy - sex addicition - angst - grief/mourning - 36k When Louis Tomlinson gets an invitation for dinner with the family he's been estranged from for a year, he has only one goal: to get his sister to talk to him again. But when an unexpected guest in the form of a hot priest is also at the dinner table, Louis may have to accept that the universe has other plans for him. A Fleabag Season 2 AU featuring Fleabag Louis Tomlinson and Hot Priest Harry Styles.

✸ Still the One | dandelionfairies | kid fic - past cheating - post-divorce - 54k Harry was 15 when he met Louis, 17 when they made love for the first time, 19 when they got engaged and married. One would think he has a perfect life, right? It’s what he thought. He was 21 when he learned that Louis had an affair. It was only one time. That’s what Louis had told him. Harry tried to forgive him. He tried to move on from that horrible moment, but he couldn’t. It was his 22nd birthday when he signed the divorce papers, leaving England behind. After finding himself living in a small town in Nebraska, Harry learns to live on his own. He becomes a preschool teacher at the local school and spends his free time continuing his own painting. He’s even been lucky enough to sell a few pieces. He’s 25 when his life is turned upside down once again by the single father who has moved into the house on the property he just happens to park his trailer.

✸ You Left all your Dreams on the Threshing Floor | LadyLondonderry | fashion - journalism - bullying - past sexual assault - 27k Marcel will go home after work and he’ll clean his vest and he’ll bleach his shirt and tomorrow will be a new day. He’s got other things that he can spend his time focusing on. How to fit in a third quote onto the cover of the fall issue of Mod Mag without covering any details in the model’s face, for instance. Maybe he’ll switch to gluten-free banana bread for the meeting on Friday. He knows some co-workers likes to eat gluten free, at least. Someone will have to accept his friendship advances eventually. They’ll have to. Right? - Louis Tomlinson gets a job at Mod Magazine. He’s quickly drawn to the one person in the office who won’t give him (or anyone) the time of day; Marcel Styles, Senior Layout Editor.

✸ Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) | Anonymous | a/b/o - emotional hurt/comfort - angst - fluff - pack dynamics - mutual pining - secrets - slow burn - 51k “Thanks, Ni, I guess I needed to hear that,” Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Niall and squeezed him tightly not caring if Liam would be mad. He missed Niall so much. “Does it really come as a surprise to you that I’m right? Shaking my head, Haz. You should know me better,” the brunette teased. Harry giggled again. “You know Hazza, you really are so different to all the other alphas out there. You’re soft, caring, cuddly and sweet and those damn dimples. So freaking pretty, it’s almost annoying. I would hate you if you weren’t my best friend. You’d really be a brilliant omega. Nature really did a number here,” Niall mumbled. It was his turn to smash his nose into Harry’s neck and Harry was extremely thankful for that because he wasn’t sure he had his facial expression in check at all. Or a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

✸ Confessions of a Fabricated Alpha | Anonymous | a/b/o - non-traditional a/b/o - secret identity - famous/not famous - fake/pretend relationship - rape/non-con - public humiliation - anxiety - depression - sex work - 18k Hearing it now almost made Harry hang up the phone, but he sighed and pressed one to be connected to one of their alpha operators. He’d already committed to this low point in his life and hanging up meant he couldn’t wallow in it and he was in a wallowing mood. “You are being connected to alpha operator number forty-four. Rogue will be with you shortly.” The name was said in a different voice like a voice mailbox someone might have on their office phone. It made him snort out a laugh at how stupid it all was. It felt like a budget sex line. or famous alpha Harry Styles has a secret and paying an alpha to roleplay a relationship with him over the phone is the only way he can be himself.

✸ Iron Hearts, Fire Souls | hopelesswriter | a/b/o - non-traditional a/b/o - alpha/alpha - co-workers - fluff - 26k "Lou..." “I know, Harry! I know what you’ll say, we can’t right? We can’t help each other’s needs? We can’t be what the other needs? But fuck, what about what we want?! And I say we because you’ve been saying yes to all of our dates and you've been flirting back all this time and-“ He took a deep breath. “And there is nothing that I want more right now than to kiss you.” Or the one where Harry and Louis are two single and unmated Lawyer Alphas that have to share an office and even though they shouldn't be that attracted to each other's scents, it sure isn't a big deal, right? I mean, what could go wrong?

✸ last blues for bloody knuckles | creamcoffeelou | a/b/o - strangers to lovers to strangers to lovers - mob au - religious themes - pregnancy - angst - 34k “Hi, love,” A too-familiar voice greeted him from the other side of the door. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips that he brought between two fingers as his eyes raked over Louis. All Louis could do was stare, wide-eyed at the alpha that he’d left behind so many years ago. “Harry?” His voice felt far away, like it wasn’t him that was speaking. On the other side of the door stood the one man he never thought he’d see again, and maybe the only man he never wanted to see again. A few steps behind him stood Liam and someone else he didn’t recognize, with guns tucked into their front pockets. “I need you to come with me.” OR Styles was a name everyone knew. It had evolved into something of a fairy tale, a far away problem that normal people didn’t have to deal with. Louis never thought he’d find himself falling in love with him. When he finds himself pregnant with Harry’s child, he knows he has to leave the life, and Harry, behind. For her sake. He never expected Harry to show back up on his doorstep five years later. A mob au.

✸ It Feels Different When You’re With Me | Rearviewdreamer | sign language - slow burn - 45k Harry fell in love with sign language as a kid. He never imagined the first love of his life would lead him straight to his second.

✸ let me carry your weight | soldouthaz | trainer Harry - insecure Louis - pining - smut [check tags for specific smut tags] - 28k louis is fresh out of a bad relationship with someone who made him feel awful about how he looked. on his journey to better himself, he meets harry - the ridiculously attractive and fit personal trainer.

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Fresh Start part 5

Sorry if i have the college parts wrong, I’m from Australia and don’t know much about American College culture, but this is fiction right?! :) 

Warning: mentions of rape and physical abuse.

You woke up in the morning early, showered and washed your hair; it was all sticky from the dancing you and the ADA had done the night before. When you got out, you dried yourself and wrapped yourself in a towel. You checked the clock, it was 8 am; you had one and half hours to get organised. Seemed simple right, wrong. After going through every draw in your tall boy, you pulled out your favourite pair of dark blue skinny ankle jeans and put them on. You loved these jeans; they made your ass look amazing and were so comfortable. You looked through your shirts; most of them were work shirts. Then you came across a white cold shoulder t shirt, it was your first time wearing it. You made a mental note to buy more “going out shirts” if this was going to be a regular thing, which you really hoped it was going to be. You looked yourself over in the mirror and you didn’t look too bad. You then went in and dried your hair, leaving it out straight for a change, put on just a little bit of makeup for colour and some perfume. You walked to your shoes and picked up your most comfortable pair of flats and once again weren't work ones and put them on, followed by your jean jacket. You looked at yourself once more before grabbing your wallet, keys, putting your badge in your front jean pocket, your phone in your back pocket, quickly grabbing a cold top tart and walked out the door to get a cab.

****

20 minutes later you arrived to where the horse carriages were, you paid, got out and scanned the side walk, that’s when you seen him, in light blue tight fitted jeans, a navy jumper and a white polo shirt collar poking out with a nice pair of navy boat shoes, you could smell his cologne from where he was standing, you loved his smell so much. He spotted you, smiled brightly and walked towards you.

“Morning Mr Barba, glad you didn’t disappoint.” You said with a cheeky smile

He looked at you with a big smile on his face, lent over and kissed you on the cheek while placing a hand on your hip.

“Morning Y/N, please today I’m Raf.” You giggled as he started to walk off to the park gates, you couldn’t help but look as his bum in those tight jeans, wow you thought to yourself. You where so used to seeing him in suit with his jacket usually on hiding everything. He turned around and caught you staring; he smiled, “Coming?” You nodded with red cheeks and headed towards him.

As you walked through the park you asked each other questions to get to know each other. You heard about his mother and grandmother, his upbringing, studies and how he made his way up to ADA and working with SVU. He heard about your home life and getting to this point. It was nice, just talking to someone that wanted to know you, know how you ticked. He was amazed by you. You sounded so wise, like you had been here before, but you were so clam, soft and kind, he hoped you never lost that, working with SVU was hard; he had seen so many things that haunted him. He found out that you didn’t have much jewellery, was because it wasn’t something you brought for yourself, you only wore pieces you had gotten as gifts from your Mum and family for different occasions. You laughed and teased each other, it just felt so right. So comfortable, it just worked. You had never clicked so much with someone of the opposite sex as you did with Rafael.

“It’s so beautiful in here.” He nodded at you. “Hungry? It’s getting late, should we go and get lunch?” You nodded, “Follow me.” He said and you both started to walk out of the park shoulder to shoulder. Just as you got to the gate, you had just finished laughing at something funny he said when your phone started to buzz, you took it out of your back pocket, “Sorry its Liv, I better take this” he gave you a small smile as he knew this, whatever this was, was about to come to an end. Way to kill the mood Liv he thought to himself

“Y/N, I’m sorry to call you on a day off, but I need you at the prescient now.”

“Um ok Liv, I’ll be there in 20.”

“Thanks Y/N sorry again.”

You hung up the phone, and looked up at Rafael standing there looking out into the traffic;

“Raf, I’m so sor.....”

He cut you off before you could finish by placing his hand around your wrist, “it’s Ok, I of all people know what the job can be like. I’ll just have to buy you lunch another day.” He said with a small shy hopeful smile.

You giggled, you lent in and kissed him on the cheek, him still holding on to the wrist, “Thank you so much for today, it didn’t disappoint, I had a really good time with you Rafael. And Yes rain check on lunch for sure”, he pulled you in for a hug and then peaked you on the cheek. You pulled away looking straight into his eyes smiling, you were nose to nose, but you didn’t have time for this right now you had to get to the station. You turned out of his embrace, walked the curb and waved down a taxi; you jumped in and shut the door and waved bye to him.

Rafael let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “You idiot, you should of kissed her, she was RIGHT there” he screamed inside his head. What if he never had a chance to make a more like that again? When he seen you walk towards him before going into the park, he couldn’t stop staring, how could he, you looked amazing in everything you wore, work cloths, ball gowns and casual clothes. You knew how to match things together, which just looked amazing. He caught you staring at him, he smiled to himself as he remembered your face when he turned around and caught you. He loved your laugh, your giggle, your quick wit and how wise you seemed, he loved that you loved old music, reading and theatre. He loved the little kisses on his cheek and how you never pulled away from his touch. He was disappointed the day had to end, but he knew too well about the job you had.

----

Deep in sleep, he rolled over to his phone buzzing; he looked at his clock on his bedside table with 1 eye slightly open, 1 am. He picked it up half asleep, “Hello”

“Barba, you were sleeping? It’s Nick, your needed down here now.” And he hung up. He jumped out of bed put on his jeans and polo and then a jacket and ran out the door grabbing a cab. When he walked into SVU he saw craziness, people everywhere, was it always like this, this time of night? Liv walked out of her office, “Barba, Sorry we had to call you at this hour, but we have a situation and we needed you.” She walked back into her office, him following close behind. He walked in to both blinds up on the two ways in her office. Fin and Amanda where in one room with some college kid that held his head in his hands with Fin standing over him and what looked like Amanda yelling at him. Then he looked over to the other window and saw Nick and you, with another guy, also looked like he was from college with his arms crossed and looking down at the table. When he seen you standing next to the table, he was shocked. Your hair was tied up messy, your make up run around your eyes, your face slightly reddened, what looked like a split lip which was bloody and swollen, you had a NYPD singlet top on tucked into your jeans so it didn’t look too big and what looked like finger and hand print marks around both your arms. Liv turned on the intercom.

“YOU TRIED TO TAG TEAM ME. You ripped my shirt off, which was new by the way. You thought I was just some pledge girl. If you did it to me, how many other girls have you done it to? What would you have done to be if I didn’t break free when I did HUH?.......You better start talking Mate, you and your friend are in a lot of trouble.” You snarled.

“What the HELL happened?” he spat at Liv frowning at her.

Liv went on to tell him that a young college girl came in this morning saying she had been rapped last night during a party for hell week at college. She had to ask a guy for a photo of his privates to prove she could belonged, the guy agreed, then started to hit on her, and then another one of his friends joined, they put a rush on the DNA and to was positive match for these two guys. The young lady told her that there was another party that night with more pledges to be made, so she put you and Nick in as under cover and you had to act the part and see if these guys would do it again.

Barba put a hand over his face and sighed.

“Why does Y/N look like that? She is a mess! Her lip is split and, is that....is that hand marks around her arms?” He said through gritted teeth, taking in deep breath threw his nose. He had to try and put his feelings aside for a minute and act professional. He had a great morning with you, that she interrupted with this case, just to put you under cover at some party, for you to get held down and bashed, he was pretty sure you would of have more fun with him.

Liv looked down, “Uh....Nick couldn’t get to her in time when we told him to go, she had a wire and a camera in her earrings. There were just too many people to get past, she was back handed by this kid when she wouldn’t stop screaming and she was held down by the other kid, quite hard as you can see by the marks. They ripped her shirt off, if she didn’t break free when she did, things could have been very different. Lucky she remembered her training, broke free to pull her gun on them just as Nick and all of us ran in.”

He looked down at his shoes, “Liv, it’s her second week, hell it’s just the end of her first and you put her under cover?”

“She did a great job Rafa, we were watching the whole time, and Nick just couldn’t get past everyone when he needed to. And she was the only one that looked the part.”

“You put her in danger, Nick put her in danger. Just because she looks young. I need to see the tapes of what happened, NOW. I hope she didn’t take any pictures.”

3 am you and Nick walked out of the interview room, the kid asked for a lawyer and they were being arraigned in the morning. You went straight to Liv’s couch and sat down with a huff, Nick followed sitting next to you.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t get to you in time. I would never want anything to happen to you.”

“So you should be.” You both looked up to see Barba, less than impressed, with his hands on his hips. Nick rolled his eyes, “No one asked you Counsellor.” You put your hand around Nicks arm to claim him down.

“You both need to relax. No harm was done.”

“Look at your lip and the marks on your arms.” Barba snapped

“Evidence” Nick spat back

Liv walked in, “The young lady that came in this morning said she will testify if Y/N does.”

“You need to get home get some sleep and be back at my office by midday tomorrow I need to prep you and her, be prepared for long afternoon Detective.”

“Yes Counsellor.” You said as you stood up. 

“I’ll get her home” said Nick as you both walked out of the office.

You had just walked through your door when your phone buzzed, “what now” you said to yourself out load;

4 am; Barba: Sorry if I was too snappy at you, i was worried when I found out what happened to you. Hope your Ok. See you at Midday, my office. Get some rest.

4.03 am; You: All good, see you then.

[phanomeheart]

do u have any recs for good omens blogs or fics?

Anon, I have SO MANY good omens fic recs!

I’m gonna put them under the cut, but this inspired me to finally make a spreadsheet of recs that will autofill from my master spreadsheet of GO fic with fics I’ve finished and recommend.

On to some specific recs, if you’re not wanting over 150 fics to wade through:

First and foremost, I have to rec the first good omens fic I ever read, Salinity (And Other Measurements of Brackish Water) by @drawlight. This fic made me go from adamantly insisting I wasn’t going to get into good omens fic yet cuz I still had to finish my thesis to now having read 245 fics in less than 2 months (send help). I’m going to go ahead and rec all of their fics and can so far personally attest to the brilliance and soul crushing beauty of: Quiet Light, Ad Astra, Alegría, and I Will Get Up Now And Go About The City. I consistently need a minumum of 24 hours to recover after reading something of theirs.

The rest, in no particular order:

small infinities and all that (M, 13.2k) by @billypotts: And there it is, isn’t it? Something they’ve known for a long time, but haven’t named it. Have been too scared to name it. Something that speaks in their bones, in the space between them. Crowley and Aziraphale are turned human. This is the aftermath.

lit in the darkness (M, 40.5k) by ToEdenandBackAgain: Aziraphale returns to Crowley's flat for the night after Armageddon. After all, it's hardly the first time they've shared sleeping arrangements. Or: Times throughout history Crowley and Aziraphale have shared a bed.

Something We Were Withholding Made Us Weak (M 17.1k) by triedunture: "Yes, exactly. Retire." Aziraphale reaches for the last remaining tartlet brimming with summer berries. "Somewhere along the south coast, perhaps." Or: Crowley and Aziraphale learn to move in tandem.

all i need, darling, is a life in your shape (G, 14.2k) by @mortuarybees: After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives. 

Something to do with these sacred words (T, 11.k) by Solshine: Crowley confesses early, and Crowley confesses often. Aziraphale never knows quite what to say.

Anywhere You Want to Go (E, 9.9k) by Aria: Aziraphale knew Crowley liked him. He'd known it with a horrible clarity since around 1100, which was at least a thousand years after the first time he'd thought of kissing Crowley, and some eight hundred and odd before it occurred to him that the specific quality of Crowley's regard could be very dangerous for both of them, if they actually admitted their feelings aloud. It was also two weeks since any of that had mattered at all anymore.

Slow (T, 9.4k) by @theirdarkreturning: It started like this: A boy with the ability to warp reality met an angel and a demon and he made assumptions. You might say it started like this: An angel and a demon found a marriage contract hung on the wall of the angel's bookshop. They didn't question it. It also could have started like this: Once upon a time, the angel told the demon he went too fast. The demon took it to heart. Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves somehow married. Crowley fears going too fast. Aziraphale forges ahead. Neither know how to ask questions of each other.

At Least Eleven Second First Times (M, 8.8k) by enjambament: Aziraphale deals with the consequences of having a brand new body after he'd broken the last one in for 6,000 years. Crowley helps. Taking a drunk-on-life Aziraphale on an impromptu road trip through French wine country to the North of Spain for a beach holiday is definitely helping, right?

An Angel who did not so much Fall In Love as Settle Into It Gradually (G, 7.5k) by @theladyzephyr: “Why does it bother you?” Crowley asked. “Even if you can’t get to them in time to wipe their memories, it’s not like anyone’d believe them. Kid goes running to her mum saying Ooh, I’ve just seen a bloke with three heads and a sixteen-foot wingspan, what do you think’s going to happen? Chances are they’ll just pat her on the shoulder and tell her what a vivid imagination she’s got.”“That’s not what worries me,” said Aziraphale.

it's the light (it's the obstacle that casts it) (T, 5.8k) by Handful_of_Silence: It's like having a curtain pulled back on something he wasn't expecting to see. A surprise punch-and-judy at an up-scale restaurant, a lobster thermidor when he's ordered an ale.Crowley's gleefully trying to wrap his head around the fact that Aziraphale is speaking Polari. Because of course he is. Or: The Patron Saint of London's LGBT Community is real, and he lives in Soho.

every angel is terrifying (T, 4.8k) by punkfaery: “Why does it bother you?” Crowley asked. “Even if you can’t get to them in time to wipe their memories, it’s not like anyone’d believe them. Kid goes running to her mum saying Ooh, I’ve just seen a bloke with three heads and a sixteen-foot wingspan, what do you think’s going to happen? Chances are they’ll just pat her on the shoulder and tell her what a vivid imagination she’s got.” “That’s not what worries me,” said Aziraphale.

a city wall and a trampoline (T, 4.7k) by kafkian: In their cottage in the South Downs, when Crowley eventually succeeds in getting Aziraphale to use a laptop, it takes Aziraphale literal hours to get past the default Windows screensavers of picturesque locations because 'oh, look, isn't it lovely, Crowley!' 5 times Crowley knows he’s in love with Aziraphale + 1 time he knows the reverse.

Morning Has Broken (T, 3.9k) by @dwarven-beard-spores: The year is 1972 and the last surviving member of Aziraphale’s gentleman’s club has passed away. (Warning for this one: heavy discussions of death and mourning. These are things I normally avoid for personal reasons, but this fic was gorgeous and just the right kind of painful on this topic for me.)

Love Hath Made Thee a Tame Snake (E, 3.5k) by @thehoyden: He was the bloody Serpent of Eden, and he wasn’t going to stand for this kind of flagrant trespassing.

An Invitation You Can't Decline (E, 2k) by @thehoyden: “I have standards,” Aziraphale huffed.“Don’t I know it,” Crowley sighed. And then, like he’d done it a hundred times before, he covered Aziraphale’s hand with his.

You, Soft and Only (E, 9.4k) by @thehoyden: He hadn’t expected a sudden lapful of angel.“Very sorry about this,” Aziraphale said, and kissed him.

the deft, sweet gesture of your hand (E, 12.1k) by @mortuarybees: Crowley arrives injured at Aziraphale's door. He takes care of him, reads him an awful lot of Mary Oliver, and knits elaborate metaphors for his insecurities (literally).

the technology is neutral (E, 6.9k) by @deputychairman: “Stand up?” he echoed, incredulous but too undone by sensation to express the full force of his disbelief. “I can barely even remember my own name after that, and you want me to stand up?”“Your name is Anthony J Crowley, apparently, although you never did tell me what the J stood for so I can’t help you there,” he said, not hiding his smile. “Do stand up, I promise you’ll like it.”

Sudden and Surprising Moments of Overwhelming Affection (G, 2.7K) by @forineffablereasons: Aziraphale has not shut up in thirty-four minutes. Crowley’s been counting.

get religion quick (cause you're looking divine) (G, 4.3k) by @brinnanza: So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing.It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop.

Wings and How to Hide Them (M, 10.1k) by triedunture: Crowley's been annoyingly in love for six thousand years. What's another lifetime between friends? Or: Aziraphale definitely fucks and isn't that just perfect?

i know i've kissed you before (but i didn't do it right) (G, 4.8k) by @gallantrejoinder: They'd given it a go once. Ages ago. And they'd both agreed it wasn't for them.

I’ll cut myself off there, but the Good Omens fandom is distressingly full of amazing fic, and there are so many more I love too (see the spreadsheet)! All of the above fics have personally ruined me and I cannot rec them highly enough. Don’t forget to leave a comment if you feel up to it! 

In terms of blogs, I don’t know that I’m a great source for that, but some blogs I follow: @rafaelafranzen, @forineffablereasons, @drawlight, @thehoyden. I’m realizing that’s really it on the primarily GO focused blogs. I also have a GO sideblog, @sansevieriatri, but I don’t know if I’d rec it, as it’s mostly me reblogging art and fic I love and screaming about it in the tags (so basically like this blog).

Thanks for the ask! I enjoyed this more than I think probably anyone else will, lol. (Also, my constant disclaimer, if I’ve made any mistakes let me know.)

[sunniebelle]

An Enchanted Night

I got a Bingo @doctorroseprompts! 

Tentoo x Rose, light Teen

A few days after Rose and her Doctor return to Pete's World, Rose is still struggling with worry over her place in the Doctor's life and if she indeed has a future with him. The Doctor is fairly sure he's come up with a fool-proof plan to ease her concerns and show her how priceless she truly is to him.

Note: This is based on a prompt from @skyler10fic to use the words 'party' and 'boat' from Tumblr's @doctorroseprompts' Summer Fic Bingo. Thank you so much @skyler10fic for the prompt! I hope you enjoy the story! :D

A03, TSP

Rose Tyler smiled politely and nodded at what she hoped was an appropriate time to one of Pete Tyler’s Vitex business associates. Her mum was hosting a big, fancy party to celebrate the return of the stars. The mystery of the stars suddenly going out, for seemingly no reason, had baffled scientists the world over. Torchwood had done its very best to gather the best and brightest experts they could find all over the world. The only ones who had known in their gut that something more sinister was going on had been Rose and Pete Tyler.

In the beginning, she had fought tooth and nail for weeks to have her's, Mickey Smith’s and Jake Simmond’s Dimension Canon Project approved for use. She’d spent months hopping dimensions, searching relentlessly for her Doctor.

She had never expected the result of her efforts to end like they had, to wind up back in Pete’s World for good and living life on the slow path. More than anything, she hadn’t expected the surprise of a lifetime, to get to stay with her family and have the Doctor. Though there were some subtle differences between the Doctor she had been separated from and his biological metacrisis, he was indeed her Doctor in every way that mattered.

She could still recall in vivid detail the moments directly after watching the TARDIS and the Time Lord Doctor disappear without any kind of goodbye. With old, incredibly painful memories flooding to the surface of her battered and bruised heart, and her fears of abandonment rearing their ugly heads, she had thrown herself into the metacrisis’ arms and sobbed from too many emotions coursing through her exhausted mind and body.

Rose forcefully pushed her reminiscent memories away, trying to once again focus on what the man—whose name she couldn’t recall now—was continuing to discuss in an almost monotone voice. As soon as possible, she excused herself and went in search of the man that was never far from her thoughts.

After getting caught up in and escaping several conversations with individuals who were definitely not her Doctor, she finally left for the kitchens thinking he popped in there to steal some nibbles and have a rambling discussion with the likely annoyed staff. She could only hope he had not resorted to fiddling with the kitchen appliances. After all, there was only so many times she could talk her mum out of slapping him.

Upon learning none of the servants had seen him and feeling quite baffled at his disappearance, she let out a heavy sigh and decided to take a walk in the gardens that surrounded the back half of the Tyler mansion, thinking the fresh night air might help settle her thoughts.

As hard as she tried, Rose couldn’t completely push aside the fear that tried to bubble up in her. Having been sent away so many times, searching for months and always coming up empty-handed, and finally being abandoned by the Time Lord Doctor on that bloody beach, all of it together had left her wary when she faced moments like this, when she couldn’t find the Doctor. It brought up so many doubts in her, stirring painful memories to the surface.

Oh, she knew full-well the Doctor loved her. She even knew that the fully Time Lord Doctor loved her; but at moments like these, her insecurities had a way of overwhelming her.

Her mind was working over-time to convince her that her doubts and fears were real, not just imagined—that she wasn’t enough for the Metacrisis Doctor and he missed traveling the stars too much to stay with her. Most importantly, though, she wondered if she would ever be enough to bridge the gaping hole that was left behind by the severed connection with his TARDIS.

All these depressing, morose thoughts spiraled in her mind like a viscous whirlwind. She knew she was being daft, but still that knowledge couldn’t make the thoughts go away. They had plagued her relentlessly since that day on Bad Wolf Bay, just a few days ago.

So focused was she on her self-recriminating thoughts, she didn’t see the moonlit outline of her half-human Doctor walking toward her in the dark.

“Rose! There you are, I was just coming to—” the Doctor began excitedly before cutting himself off at her startled gasp. “Oh, sorry. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Letting out a deep breath and trying to return her heart to its normal rhythm, she ran a hand down his arm to assure him she was fine and he was forgiven.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. No one knew where you were.”

Though Rose tried to keep her worry and self-doubts to herself, either her voice or something in her eyes gave her away. Familiar chocolate-brown eyes studied her for several long moments before he grasped her hands in a gentle but firm grip.

Looking deep into her eyes, the Doctor said, “I’m sorry I worried you Rose. I always hate to see you upset, especially when I’m the cause. I know it’s going to take time to prove to you that I have no intention of ever leaving you again, at least not by my own choice.” He stepped closer into her personal space, so close she could feel his warm puffs of air gently grazing her skin.

“I slipped away so I could prepare for the surprise I had planned for the two of us. Would you care to take a moonlit stroll with me?” he asked with a small smile, turning and offering his elbow to her.

He tried to hide it, but she could see the hesitant, vulnerable look in his eye, as though he was preparing for her to decline. As if she would ever miss out on a chance to have the Doctor all to herself.

“I’d love to, Doctor,” she said, giving him a tongue-touched grin.

The Doctor was still awestruck whenever he was graced by one of Rose’s beaming smiles. He didn’t know how she did it, but her smile seemed to make the gentle light of the moon seem to shine as bright as day when she smiled at him like that. He was fully aware that he had a goofy, ear-to-ear grin on his face as he felt Rose’s arm slip into the crook of his elbow. He had felt more genuine smiles cross his face in the past month than he had since the day he lost her in the battle of Canary Warf.

They walked in companionable silence until they reached the edge of the large duck pond that sat toward the back of the Tyler property.

A pleasantly warm wind blew the scents of the night air into their faces, letting them sample the sweet floral but heady smell of honeysuckle and lavender. In the trees and bushes they heard the calls and movements of small animals hurrying about their business in the cover of night.

The gentle warmth of the night air seemed to wrap around them, like a comfortable blanket and he could feel the earlier tension in Rose slowly fade as they took in the beauty around them. Ahead of them, the soft sound of wave after wave of water meeting and lapping at the shore added to the magic of the moment and to the melody of the night noises surrounding them.

The blue-ish white light of the moon illuminated the ground beneath the Doctor’s and Rose’s feet. The Doctor led them around the grassy shore a ways, toward a short wooden dock where, barely visible at the end, two lanterns sat atop the posts waiting to be lit.

He stopped her at the entrance to the pier and asked her to close her eyes and wait there for a minute. Rolling her eyes in feigned impatience and giving him an indulgent but excited smile, she complied.

Waving his hand in front of her face to test that she wasn’t peaking, he darted to the end of the walk and turned the lanterns on high, then quickly returned to her side.

“Keep your eyes closed, but walk with me. I’ll guide you.” He was pleased to see the amused smile tugging at Rose’s mouth, but focused on leading her to his surprise, mostly so he wouldn’t focus too much on his desire to kiss her.

When they reached their destination, he stepped to the side and told her to open her eyes. He watched as her eyes opened and focused on his surprise; a wooden rowboat tied to the pier and in the center of the boat was a large picnic basket. He saw a beaming smile slowly light up Rose’s face and simultaneously warm his single human heart, effectively calming his tumultuous fears about her enjoying his surprise.

“You did all this? For me?” she asked, her voice quiet while her eyes searched his.

“All for you, Rose Tyler. If I may?” he asked, gesturing to the boat. She accepted his help into the boat and was soon seated across from her. He gazed at her for a long moment, then, as though he was just remembering something, he reached behind him and presented her with a beautiful bouquet of pink and yellow roses.

Lifting them to her face to breathe in their wonderful smell, she said, “These are beautiful, Doctor. Thank you, for these...and doing all this.”

“You’re welcome. Only the best for my pink and yellow human,” he said with a grin, which she returned.

He situated his hands on the paddles and made ready to move the boat out onto the water so he could continue his plans for the evening. He suddenly stopped when Rose cleared her throat and looked up at her.

“Um, Doctor, are you forgetting something?”

He looked at her in confusion for a moment, then glanced around them, mentally ticking off everything in his head, then looked back up at her in bemusement.

Shaking his head, he confirmed, “No, don’t think so.”

He could tell that she was holding back laughter and trying to hide a smile behind her hand. He cocked an eyebrow at her, waiting to see what she found so amusing.

Lowering her hand and doing a very poor job of not smiling, she pointed to the rope that was anchoring the boat to the pier. “’S just, think we’ll get farther without being tethered, don’t you?”

His face dropped as he looked at the line. “Ah.”

He turned a beaming smile on her. “My brilliant, Rose! Always seeing what I miss!” he exclaimed with pride, making her smile wider.

The rope tucked safely away and paddles now in hand, the Doctor’s smooth, powerful strokes brought them quickly to the middle of the pond fairly quickly.

After securing the paddles, the Doctor opened the hamper he had prepared earlier. In a short amount of time they each had plates of fish and chips and glasses of wine.

The Doctor had difficulty swallowing when Rose moaned at the taste of the chips. Trying to force his mind to other things than wanting to ravish her, he began rambling about his progress on the TARDIS coral. For a while they ate and drank, their conversation relaxed.

Soon the meal was finished and he brought out a large slice of double chocolate banana cake and two spoons. Rose’s obvious delight caused him to make his happy noise at the pleasure she found in his hard work. They both moaned in pleasure when the first bite of the delicious cake reached their respective mouths, then looked at each other and laughed.

After packing their dishes away in the hamper, the Doctor moved over to sit beside Rose, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He enjoyed the feel of her leaning into his body and her contented sigh as they felt the gentle sway of the boat drifting in the water.

As they gazed at the night-time scenery around them, Rose smiled when she thought of all the thought, time and effort the Doctor had put into this lovely surprise date he had set up. All of this had shattered through the doubts that had been swirling in her head lately.

As he stared up at the moon and stars that softly lit the midnight sky, she surreptitiously studied him. He was wearing a dark-blue tuxedo; though tonight’s party had been a black-tie affair, he had refused to wear a black one, much to her mother’s annoyance. Rose had always loved how handsome he looked in a tux and tonight was no exception.

His eyes sparkled in the soft light, while the breeze ruffled the strands of his spiked hair. She continued her perusal, forcing her hands to remain in her lap and not wander into his really great hair. Her eyes finally fell to his mouth, specifically his pouty lower lip that continued to taunt her with how kissable that feature made him look.

She startled slightly when his head suddenly turned to her, their eyes locking and bodies stilling.

She felt a bit perplexed when she saw a slightly nervous look cross his face, yet couldn’t help but track the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. She wondered what was making him nervous and was about to ask him, when he started speaking.

“Rose, I—there’s a reason I did all this tonight, planned it all out. I’m actually amazed one of my plans worked! You know, normally they end up going awry a little bit. Well, yeah, you know that. Don’t need to go into that. I, um, that is. Oh, bugger.” She watched in part amusement, part growing concern as her Doctor tried to tell her something that she instinctively knew was important.

He took a deep breath through his mouth and let it out his nose slowly, then turned slightly so he could face her. “Rose, I don’t know that I, even with all the languages I can speak, could find the words to tell you how much I missed you.”

Her breath caught at that statement and she felt the slight burning sensation of tears beginning to gather in her eyes.

“I was miserable, a completely useless wreck without you. There were so many times I’d ask myself, ‘What would Rose do?’, or ‘What am I missing that Rose would see?’”

As the Doctor continued his ramble, he became more animated and Rose imagined that, were they not in a boat, he would have been pacing.

“And blimey, how many times did Donna yell at me for moping about or sulking? I was a right pain in the arse at times, I’m sure. You can stop laughing, Rose, cause it’s true!” he said, smiling as she tried to stifle her giggles at the pictures he created. Oh, how she could just imagine those scenarios—which of course, was a rather sobering thought.

“The point I’m trying and failing to make Rose is, I was so miserable without you, but a great majority was because of my deep regret. Regret for how much bloody time I wasted holding you at arm’s length. I told myself I was protecting you, from my darkness, from my past. But really, I was scared, a right sodding coward. I was terrified of how much it would hurt one day when I lost you.”

Her throat got tighter as her tears gathered in her eyes, watching him bare himself completely like this. A tear spilled over and slowly rolled down her cheek as she saw his head bow, eyes close and shoulders slump with the weight of his next words.

“And then...I did lose you and it hurt so much more. Because all that time, we could have been honest about our feelings. No, I could have been honest about my feelings for you. And Rose,” he looked up, staring into her eyes, “my regret for the things I didn’t do and didn’t say still runs deep. A chasm of regret. And I vowed to myself, when you chose me that day on that windy beach, after we saved the Earth again—well, the universe...well, the multi-verse—I vowed that I would not hide my feelings for you any longer.”

She watched him take a deep breath, then slide from his seat beside her. Her breath, mind, heart, everything stopped when he knelt before her and grasped her hand. Tears that she had managed to keep at bay now ran unchecked down her face.

“Rose Marion Tyler, from the day I grasped your hand in mine and told you to 'Run', you have fascinated, challenged, inspired me, saved me so many times, in so many ways. You took a bitter, old and broken Time Lord soldier...and you made me better. Your light, your spirit, your compassion, Rose, just...everything about you drew me to you. You were, are, will always be my center of gravity. And I cannot—do not ever want to—imagine a life lived without you. You are my everything. I love you, Rose Tyler, and will spend every single day of the rest of our forever proving it to you.”

He drew out a small TARDIS-blue velvet case from his inner lapel pocket and lifted the lid to reveal a white-gold ring with a beautiful diamond centered between two small sapphires. As he lifted it from the case, she thought she could see his written language, circular Gallifreyan, engraved inside the ring—though she longed for stronger light than the gentle moonlight currently surrounding them to confirm her suspicions.

“Doctor,” was the only word she could get past her lips and increasingly tight throat.

“Will you,” he took a deep breath and she heard him gulp before he continued, “do me the extreme honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, Doctor,” she said in a broken whisper.

A beaming smile suddenly stretched across his face making the adorable crinkles around his eyes appear.

As he reverently slipped the ring onto her finger, she giggled in delight and stared at it for a long moment. She then lunged forward to wrap him in a tight hug. He barely kept them upright, both of them laughing as the boat rocked with their movement. For several minutes they were content to stay locked in their warm embrace.

Turning her head, she trailed her lips across his jaw pressing soft kisses to his smooth skin. Making her way to his mouth, she finally gave him a loving, lingering kiss. He was quick to lean into her and when she moved her now-bejeweled left hand to his hair to scratch at his scalp, while also drawing his tempting lower lip between hers, she relished the sound of his moan. He pulled her closer, one arm tight around her lower back while the other snaked into her hair to tilt her head as he deepened the kiss, which pulled a moan from her as well.

The need to breathe finally caused them to separate, their foreheads touching and their breath mingling. Her eyelids fluttered open, warm amber meeting rich chocolate.

Her hands, still tangled in his gorgeously riotous hair, came down to rest on either side of his face and she pulled back to better see him. It took all her will-power not to continue their previous activities, what with seeing his adorable and thoroughly-snogged appearance. But she had something important to tell him as well, something she had not said to him in a very long time.

“Doctor, you are so important to me. So important that I jumped universes to get back to you. I was utterly devastated when we were separated, so lost. I was more lonely than I knew it was possible to be. But because of all I went through, the decisions I made because no one would or could make them, I feel like...like I know you and understand you better. And Doctor, I mean this from the depths of my soul,” she stared into his eyes to make sure he was truly hearing her.

“It doesn’t matter what has happened in your past. All of what you went through, every single bit of it, it made you into who you are. And who you are...is the man I love. My Doctor. I love you, so much.”

Now it was the Doctor whose face was streaked with tears as he stared into her eyes. He looked at her as though he had found the most precious treasure. It was a look of wonder and awe.

Suddenly he surged forward with a hard press of his lips to hers. She poured all her love for this beautiful, wonderful man into her kiss and felt the same being sent to her.

He finally slowed and gentled his touch, kissing her with such tenderness and love that she again felt tears burning behind her eyelids.

Breaking away so there was only a few inches between them, they gazed at each other, memorizing and treasuring everything about this moment. The Doctor stared at Rose with deep, chocolate brown eyes, his gaze so filled with love and hope for their future together.

She looked down between them at their hands, palms pressed together and fingers tightly linked. She knew—they both knew deep in their souls—no matter what the universe had in store for them, as long as they had each other’s hand to hold, they could face it. Together.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Love is Like the Flowers

Carry On Countdown

Nov. 25 Flower Shop AU

Simon

He’s here again.

It’s the third Friday in a row he’s shown up. Same bloody time.

Cheesed me off, it did, that first time.

Posh tosser just walks in here, minutes before I’m to close up shop. Strolls around like he owns the place. Wanders about, inspecting the day’s inventory like he has all the time in the world.

I’d wanted to get home, that first time. Not that there was anything to do at home, but at least I’d be home. Agatha and I had broken up a few weeks before.

A few weeks before this bloke decided to become a regular.

I didn’t come as too much of a surprise. The break up, I mean, with Agatha. Things hadn’t been good between us for some time. I just didn’t think she’d actually do it.

I’m honestly not as upset as I thought I’d be. I miss going out to eat with someone I suppose and having someone to watch the telly with at night but Agatha and I haven’t been more than companions for quite a while.  

I’m not sure when the spark faded away. I think there was a spark, once. Dating Agatha wasn’t really what I’d anticipated it to be. It had been comfortable and comforting in school but I’d had this whole romantic scenario in my head about what it would be like after we graduated.

It didn’t turn out that way. We just had less and less to talk about and even less in common.  Just kind of drifted apart, even though we were still together.

It’s all right, really. We’re still friends, sort of. I’d call her in a fix and I think she’d do the same.

But I was feeling sorry for myself, a few weeks ago, the night this bloke had marched into the shop—all slicked back hair, posh togs and elegant cheekbones.

He is striking to look at, I’ll give him that. Not much of a talker though. Doesn’t say much at all. Walks around for a bit then heads to the counter to tell me what sort of bouquet he wants in his cool, cultured voice.

I just gather the flowers, wrap them up and take his money.

I can’t help watching him though, as he strolls through the shop. My eyes just seem to follow him.

He’s at the counter now. The wind must’ve picked up outside. His hair’s falling into his face tonight, soft waves cascading past those sharp cheekbones of his.

It looks good like that. Makes him look softer, it does.

My face grows warm and I realize I’m staring.

What the bloody hell? Why am I thinking about his hair and stupid facial structure?

I get the flowers all organized and ring him up. I must just be knackered and not thinking clearly. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Mind’s wandering.

I can’t think why else I’d try to start a conversation with him.

“Your girlfriend must like getting these flowers every Friday,” I say.

His eyes widen.

They’re grey. Dark grey, like the sea at dusk.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” His voice is clipped and curt. Still posh as hell.

Fuck.

I flush all the way down my neck and I can hear Penny’s voice in my head. “Succumbing to the heteronormative stereotypes, Simon? Really?”

“Oh. Uh. Um. I’m sorry, don’t know what I was thinking.” I drop my eyes to the flowers and busy my hands with the wrap. And like a complete wanker I keep talking.

“Boyfriend, then?”

I’m mad. I’m an utter pillock. There’s really no other rational explanation for why I am still talking and saying such stupid things to him.

He raises his eyebrow and fixes me with a penetrating stare. “No, don’t have one of those either.”

Fuck.

But I keep on talking because I have utterly lost all control of myself. I’m sure he just wants to go home. I just want to go home. I don’t know why I’m prolonging the agony of this interaction.

But there it is, my mouth running off again. “That’s nice, then. Bringing a little bit of colour into the house for yourself.”

“They’re for my mother.”

I beam up at him now, finally on a safe subject. “Oh, that’s all right then. Nice of you to do that for your mum. Brightens her day, I’m sure.”

His face is expressionless. “She’s dead. I take them to her grave each week.” He drops two twenty-pound notes on the counter, sweeps up the flowers and walks out into the night before I even get a chance to give him his change.

Fuck.

Baz

I beat a hasty retreat out of the flower shop with only one thought in my head. Why am I like this?

Finally, after weeks of just staring at each other, he makes an attempt at conversation and I just sneer him into silence. As if I haven’t been going out of my way, coming to this specific shop every Friday for the past month, just to see this particular boy.

And then I fuck it all up by being a complete arse.

I’m seething at myself all the way to the station, the entire ride to the cemetery.

I pick my way to the stone that marks Mother’s grave and remove the wilting flowers from last week. The new ones take their place and I drop down on the grass next to them. I trace the outline of her name with my finger.

It calms me.

I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, as I watch the sun set over the city.

It’s hours later when I finally get home.

I curl up on the sofa, book in hand, but I can’t concentrate. I’ve made such a mess of this tonight.

I first saw this boy months ago, at my step-cousin’s wedding. I didn’t want to be there. I’m tired of going to other people’s weddings. I don’t even know her that well, some relation of Daphne’s that we rarely see, but since the wedding was in London I had no excuse not to go.

Dev was absorbed with his date. Some new girl he met at work and he’s utterly besotted with her. He was useless as a diversion. I didn’t know too many of the others and had little interest in speaking to the ones I did know.

It was an adult only affair so Father and Daphne didn’t bring Mordelia, even though my little sister is actually blood relations with this side of the family. It would have been far more interesting to spend time with her.

As it was we got there too bloody early and I was bored. I escaped the throng of well-wishers and went out behind the church to have a smoke. That’s when I saw him.

The florist’s truck was parked in back. There was a girl with purple hair gesturing wildly in the direction of the church and directing this boy to carry some giant flower arrangement in. I checked my watch. They were cutting it pretty damn close if they were still bringing in the decorations. The wedding was due to start in a quarter of an hour.

Didn’t envy him the conversation he was about to have with the bride’s mother.

He came out a few moments later, no sign of the purple-haired girl. She must be the one getting the lecture.

He was striking. Bronze curls, golden skin. He certainly caught my eye.

What of it, though? I’d never see him again.

I finished my smoke and reluctantly made my way into the church for the ceremony.

But I did see him again a few weeks later, at another wedding, this one for a friend from work. Same truck. Same purple-haired girl. Same bronze curls.

I got a closer look at him this time. This reception was outdoors, under gauzy white tents next to the church. The florists were busy dragging some of the bigger arrangements from the church over to the tent once the wedding itself was over and the wedding party was off taking photographs.

I parked myself against the side of the church, cigarette in hand, and watched them. He had to walk right by me three or four times, carrying large potted plants and then gigantic arrangements of bright flowers.

The third time I saw him was a little over a month ago at work. An after-hours reception to celebrate our newest acquisition and a meet and greet for the principals and staff. My office has a clear view of the elevator so I was able to watch him come and go for the hour or two before things got underway.

It seemed to be fate by then, bringing him into my life every few weeks, with his fascinating grin, mop of bronze curls, face and arms dotted with moles I could see even at a distance.

It wasn’t hard to get the florist shop’s information from the assistant who had planned the event.

It’s not all that far from where I live but it’s a long way from where Mother is. I used to always stop by the flower shop that’s right near the cemetery, on my way to visit her.

I’d walked by this place a few times since I had found its location but I only convinced myself to actually step inside three weeks ago.

And there he was.

I still don’t know his name. They don’t seem to believe in nametags at this shop. They do have a good selection of flowers though. I always find what I want for Mother, even though I go at the very end of the day.

I want it that way. I want to be the last customer, to not have other people around. In case I get the nerve up to actually speak to him.

But then he went and did it first, tried to make conversation, and I fucked it all up by being an arse.

I can’t go back.

I want to go back.

Simon

I can’t believe it when he walks in on Friday, right on cue, at five minutes to close. I thought he wouldn’t come back, thought I’d made a right bollocks of it by being such an absolute git the week before.

He does what he always does, walks in and strolls around without looking at me, so I let myself look at him.

He’s got a suit on, perfectly tailored to him and snug in all the right places. His dark hair is falling in soft waves again. His profile is arresting, his shoulders broad, his posture perfect.

I don’t know why I notice these things. Why I notice him.

I’ve been thinking about it, since last week. Thinking about him.

Longer than that, probably, if I’m going to be honest. Been thinking about him since the first time he came in.

I’m not sure why I’m so fascinated by him. I’ve thought about him a lot this week, when I was worried I’d never see him again.

It bothered me more than I expected.

Not in the ‘losing a customer’ way either. It’s more than that.

I look forward to seeing him and I think . . . I think I’m attracted to him. I’m not sure what that’s all about.

But his words from last week keep swirling through my head. I keep coming back to him saying he doesn’t have a girlfriend.

Or a boyfriend.

That he was more surprised when I mentioned a girlfriend. I can’t stop thinking about that. About what it might mean.

About why I’m so interested to know.

But I’ve got to get my apology out of the way first. I’ve got to apologize for being such an idiot and nattering on about flowers and girlfriends and such. When he was getting them for his deceased mother.

I really put my foot in it.

I’ll try to make up for it. I’ll try.

Who am I kidding? I’ll likely muck it up again no matter what I do.

Baz

I wasn’t sure if I should come tonight. I wanted to, I knew that. But I was such an arse last week. I don’t know what to say. I just tossed the money at him and stormed out. I don’t know what he’s thinking.

Simon

I wish I knew what he was thinking. He’s taking longer than he usually does. I feel like I should say something, apologize to him right now. But I was such a plonker last week. I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid again.

I always seem to say something stupid.

Baz

I’m delaying. I just need to go up to the register and apologize to him. I close my eyes briefly and take a deep breath.

He’s staring right at me when I turn towards him. His blue eyes meet mine and his face flushes. I can feel my own heat up.

I lift my chin and make my way to the register.

I can’t decide if I should apologize first or tell him what flowers I want.

But he beats me to it.

Simon

“They’re on the house tonight.” I see his eyes widen when I say that.

What made me say that? They aren’t, exactly. He overpaid me last week, left without getting his change. And I decided just now, that whatever he orders, even if it’s more than his change, I’ll just cover it. As an apology.

“Excuse me?” He looks confused.

“The flowers. They’re on the house tonight. I mean, technically, they’re not actually on the house, because you overpaid last week. So, I suppose I mean they’re paid in advance. That’s more accurate. I mean, you left without getting your change last week, so I thought you’d just have a credit, so get whatever you like and we’ll call it square.” I’m babbling. I’m so useless at this.

But it doesn’t stop me from talking. I’m such a fucking idiot that I keep on going. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about last week. I shouldn’t have asked and I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Baz

He’s flushed and stammering and I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s actually apologizing to me, when he’s got no reason. He was just trying to make conversation.

“No, really.” I stop him. He’s well into blustering by this point and I find I’m completely fascinated by the mole on his left cheek and the way his eyes are so blue, just a perfect shade of blue, and then my own face is heating again. “I was rude and I’m quite sorry.”

“You still overpaid. So, you’ve got a credit tonight. Pick whatever you like.”

“Thank you. . .” I pause and he gets the hint. “I’m Simon.” He puts his hand out. I take it. It’s warm and calloused and I feel a searing sensation thrumming up my arm from his touch.

“Simon.” I let my mouth linger on his name as I repeat it. His hand is still in mine and I force myself to grip it once and then let go as I speak again. “I’m Baz.”

“What can I do for you tonight, Baz?”

There are so many ways to answer that question and none of them appropriate for the moment.

“I need a bouquet again.” I tap my fingers on the counter as I think of what I want to say. “But I can’t think what I want tonight. Why don’t you surprise me this time?”

I can hear his intake of breath and his eyes impossibly widen further. “I can do that.”

He takes his time, longer than when he makes up my requests. He goes back and forth, pulling flowers up and then putting them back.

He brings it up to the counter finally. It’s a mix of white and pink lilies, white roses, a few sprays of pink hyacinths, blue forget-me-nots and to my surprise some blue irises and another bloom I don’t recognize.

It’s perfect.

“I hope this is all right,” he says, holding it out for me to inspect. “If there’s anything more or something you don’t like, just tell me. I don’t mind changing it.”

“No, no. It’s perfect as it is.” I reach out a finger and gently touch the unfamiliar violet flower. “What’s this?”

Simon tilts his head. “That’s purple statice. It’s got a colour close to violets but it works much better in a bouquet.” His brow furrows as he looks up at me. I’m a few inches taller than he is. “If you don’t like it I can switch it out.”

I reach out to touch the flower again. “No. No. I like it. It’s just the right colour.”

“Then I’ll get them all wrapped up for you.”

Simon busies himself arranging and wrapping the flowers, leaving me the opportunity to look at him. His hands, freckled and covered with small scrapes and cuts, make quick work of it and then his eyes are meeting mine again.  

“Here you go.” He hands the bundle to me and our fingers touch again. “Thank you for coming back, after last time.”

“I like your flower selection.” Truly, I am an idiot. That’s the best you can do, Pitch?

After weeks of making the trek to this particular flower shop, just to see this boy, I can’t even make sensible conversation.

I do like the flowers here. But I think I like the boy behind the counter more.

I just can’t tell him that without sounding like an absolute creeper.

The first time I came just to see him. I bought the flowers as an excuse for coming in the shop. And then I couldn’t help returning.

I wasn’t lying to him. I do buy flowers for Mother every week. I’ve done it for years. At first Father would take me to the florist shop near home and we’d go together. Once I was out on my own I’d just gone to the florist that’s closest. It never mattered where I bought them before, as long as the flowers were fresh and lovely and would last the week.

It’s always been more about spending time with her, thinking about her. It’s a ritual that brings me a small modicum of comfort. That makes me feel close to her again, if only for a little while.

I know she’s not there. I know she can’t see me. I know it’s more for me than for her. But tonight’s the first time I’ve let anyone else choose what flowers to give her.

And somehow, I don’t think she’d mind.

Simon

I think he likes the flowers but I’m not sure. He’s holding them but he’s got this faraway look in his eyes, like his mind’s not here. I’m sure he’s thinking about his mother.

I tried to pick flowers that have meanings, that signify remembrance and respect, but not a funeral type arrangement. I wanted it to be brighter somehow. Not so much grief as memory, I suppose.

He shakes his head and looks at me again. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I’ve kept you past your closing time.” “It’s all right. I’ve not got anything to do tonight.” “I’ll be on my way then. Thank you again, Simon.”

I like it when he says my name. There’s a softness to it, in that posh accent of his. “Is it nearby?” I have no idea what possessed me to ask that. He’s going to his mother’s grave. It was going so much better and now I’ve gone and mucked it up again.

“I’m headed to the station. I’ve got a bit of a ways to go. I don’t live too far from here but we didn’t when . . .”

I nod rapidly. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Don’t know what made me ask. I’ll let you go, then.”  

Baz

I should just leave. I’ve gone and told him I don’t live in this neighborhood and that mother’s grave is on the other side of the city. He’s going to wonder what the hell I’m doing here. It’s going to be utterly mortifying. I truly won’t be able to show my face here next week.

I’m not sure how we end up walking out together and I linger as he locks the storefront up. I’m weak, what can I say?

“You headed to the station?” I can hear my voice and it sounds desperate. Like I’m trying to prolong this conversation that should have ended many minutes ago.

“No, I just live down the street.” Simon’s eyes dart up to mine and then away to the street and then back to me. “Um. Uh. It’s in the direction of the station. So, we’re actually headed the same way, for a bit.” He jams his hands in his pockets. “If that’s ok, I mean, I’m going that way anyway, you don’t have to walk with me, I won’t be following you or anything weird like that.”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and then jams it back in his pocket.

“It will be nice to have the company,” I say and he visibly relaxes. And shoots me a grin that nearly takes my breath away.

We walk in companionable silence down the street. Simon stops when we get to the tube station entrance.

“Have a good night, Baz.”

“You too, Simon. And thank you for your help and for putting up with me being an arse last week.”

He waves his hand at me. “Nah. You weren’t an arse. I was a complete numpty for making assumptions. Thanks for coming back.” Simon runs his hand through his curls and rocks back and forth before continuing. “I’ll see you next week, then, maybe?”

Does he actually look eager? I might be imagining it but there’s a definite glint of interest in my answer, I can see it in his eyes.

“Next week it is.” His smile definitely grows brighter at my words.

Simon

He’s back the following week.

“Hello, Baz.”

“Good evening, Simon.”

He’s standing in the middle of the shop, looking at me and I’m just staring back at him.

He usually just walks in and starts inspecting the inventory.

Baz isn’t doing that tonight.

Baz

I stand there and drink in the sight of him. He’s sitting at the counter, chin resting on his hand and a smile overtakes his face as he meets my eyes. I’m riveted.

I’m pathetic.

“What can I get for you tonight?” Simon stands up, his full attention on me.

I clear my throat and scan the shop. “Would you make up a bouquet for me again, Simon? The one last week was lovely.”

“I can do that. Same colors or something different this week?”

“Maybe something brighter.”

Simon bustles about the shop, collecting flowers and I take the opportunity to watch him as he works.

His creation is even lovelier than last week. More pink blooms and some reds this time, lush and fragrant.

We end up walking out of the shop together again and I wait for him to lock up, like I did the previous week.

“All right if I walk to the station with you, if that’s where you’re headed, Baz? I’m going that way myself.”

I was hoping he’d walk there with me again tonight.

I nod and he talks about his favorite shops along this street as we walk. There’s a curry take-out place, a small bookshop, a pub a few blocks further down.

My feet drag as we get closer to the station. I like listening to him talk. But inevitably we reach the spot where I need to leave him.

“Here we are then.” Simon stops, hands in his pockets and smiles up at me.

I don’t say anything in response. Can’t think of anything other than the fact that I don’t want to leave.

We stare at each other for another moment, neither of us moving. I don’t want to be the first to break eye contact. I don’t think I could look away if I tried at this point.

He leans forward. “Uh. Um. I’m probably going to head to the pub to eat. Haven’t done the shopping for the week and I’m not about to do it tonight. If uh, if um, not sure if you said you live close but if you’re back in the neighbourhood later tonight, maybe you’d want to have a drink?” Simon looks startled as he says that, as if that wasn’t quite what he was intending to say.

I answer before he changes his mind. “Yes, yes I’d like that. I’d like that very much.” I blink at him for a moment. “Which pub are you talking about?”

“Thought you said you live around here?” His expression is puzzled now.

“Oh. Right. Well, not too far is what I said, actually.” Two stops isn’t far, really, not when you take into account how big London is, after all.

“You don’t live around here, do you?”

Fuck. “Not quite. I’m just two stops away. Not far at all really.”

“You work around here then?”

Fuck.

No. Work is a change of line but he doesn’t need to know that. “No, work is a bit further away.”

“Then how’d you end up at our shop?” Simon definitely looks puzzled now. “It’s not on your way or anything?”

“Ah.” I’m wracking my brain for an excuse. I really hadn’t thought this part through at all. I don’t know what I’d thought, when I’d searched out the shop. I just knew I wanted to see him again. And once I saw him, I wanted to see him again. And again.

I think of the only plausible explanation I can confess to without embarrassing myself for all eternity. “I told you I liked your flowers. I recognized the name of the shop. You did some work for us, a while back, at the office. Thought I’d check it out for myself. Haven’t been disappointed.”

“Oh. Oh, all right then.” His face clears and a grin splits his face. It’s glorious.

I feel momentarily guilty for deceiving him but the true story is better suited to a different time. And place. And after I have a few drinks in me.

“You still haven’t told me which pub.”

His grin gets impossibly wider. “You mean it? You’d like to get a drink later, then?”

“I would.”

“Would it be easier if we met near you? So you don’t have to trek on back here?”

I shake my head. “No. I pass by here on my way back anyway. I’ll just get off on the earlier stop.” I look at my watch. It’s half past six. “It might be a bit later. Say eight to eight-thirty? Is that too late?”

“No. I’ll head home and shower and go ‘round the pub around seven-thirty to eight.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out my mobile. I unlock the screen and pass it to him. He doesn’t take it, just gives me an odd look. “Put your number in. That way I can let you know if I’m running late. I can give you my number and if you change your mind you can just let me know.”

Simon takes it and taps at the screen. He hands it back to me and then reaches in his pocket to pull out his own mobile. “Not that I’ll be changing my mind but here, go ahead.”

Our fingers touch when I take it from his hand and I feel that surge of electricity again. I punch in my number and hand it back. “Why don’t you call me, make sure we’ve got it right.”

My mobile lights up a moment later with the caller ID showing “Simon Snow” with a smiley face emoji next to it.

“I’ll see you later then, Simon Snow.” I start to make my way down the steps to the station but I’m stopped by his hand on my arm.

“I forgot to tell you which pub.”

“Text me the name? Then I can get directions for when I come back.”

I’m on the tube when my phone buzzes with the name of the pub and a series of emojis from Simon.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes. I’ve finally got something interesting to talk about when I go visit Mother tonight.

title from New Order song The VIllage.

[bedfordrambles]

thursday

It was a Thursday night, mid July. The week consisting of an unbearable heatwave, and despite the fact it was a little past eleven, dark skies and brighter stars, the air was still heavy and humid. 

Maybe the fact that you were livid, and shouting and screaming at an equally enraged George, only added to it. Heat. 

Both bursting through the front door of the flat only moments ago, the air feeling even hotter, clinging to skin. You - stumbling over to the window, thanks to the impossibly high heels that you had chosen to wear to impress rather than practicability. George continues to rant somewhere behind you, struggling with a tie that he had worn for the same reasons as your heels. 

“I didn’t have to fucking bring you, George. I’m sorry I did, I shouldn’t have. I forgot you don’t know how to act around people that don’t lick your ass over your stupid fucking shitty band. My fucking mistake.” 

The window sticks, refusing to open more than an inch, no matter how hard you push - it’s been a problem for weeks, something neither George nor Matty bothered to try fixing. 

“Fucking Christ - can neither of you fix a bloody goddamn window! There is no fucking air in here. ” 

You quite literally stomp your foot, for emphasis and out of utter frustration, while reaching around to unzip the stupidly expensive dress you had bought only yesterday. Matty had helped you pick it out, while being the mess he was, his own fashion sense blurred between edgy hipster goth meets homeless person - he had quite the eye for what would look good on other people. 

The dress was simple - short but not too short, slightly poofy skirt, off the shoulder sleeves, and of course black, but scattered rose heads, red. Now it felt like it was burning into your skin, your head already on fire from drinks and George. 

“They always fucking hated me, dunno why I thought it would be any fucking different this time. Pretentious fucking prats.”

Turning to face him at that, tossing his blazer over the couch haphazardly. The heat was clearly getting to him too, struggling to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt his face was flushed a similar shade to your lips. Red. 

You roll your eyes - George always had a problem with your family, and your family always had a problem with George. The more you think about it in retrospect, the more you wonder how fucking insane you were to bring him tonight. He cuts you off when your lips part. 

“And don’t you even fucking dare say that I didn’t try, there’s only so much smiling and laughing you can do at the ‘oh you’re still in that band’, ‘still haven’t gotten anywhere with that band’, ‘still wasting time with that -’  Fucking hell, how do you do it?”

It was your mum’s idea to invite George. Well, she didn’t know it was George at the time, she just insisted you bring the ‘new boy’ you were seeing. She had done well to mask the shock when you showed up with George on your arm, and to be fair she gave him more of a chance than anyone else had. Your older brother had gotten engaged recently, it was a soiree kind of celebration. A few hours later, and copious amount of digs about the band, and fastly downed drinks - you had to drag George outside when the two of them began a rather heated, and a rather loud argument. “You just brought me to piss them off, didn’t you?” is what he had yelled once you got him outside. You didn’t, but he didn’t want to believe that. Accusations.

He repeats it again now. And you scoff, now that you were comfortably away from your family, and didn’t have the added pressure of not trying to cause a scene. 

“Yes, George. That is exactly what I fucking wanted to happen. Well done, thank you for playing the arsehole boyfriend so well. You’re a natural.” 

He’s not your boyfriend, nothing’s official and you don’t know why you said it but you’re tired, and hot, and frustrated. Your throat is burning now too, whether it’s from shouting or thirst, you don’t know. George didn’t lose his temper often, he wasn’t about confrontation at all. It was bad tonight - bottled up rage, sparking. You can see it in his eyes - the exact opposite to the air in the flat, cold and ebbing. He won’t let you past him, when you try to walk away. 

“You know what’s always really sickened me? We’re exactly the same. The only difference is, I don’t want my parents privileges. I never used Mummy and Daddy’s money to go to Uni, or to rent a fancy apartment in a posh part of town, or so that I could prance around fucking internships and not have to worry about anything else. I have more fucking dignity than that, everything I have - I’ve earned myself.”

He had dropped his tone to a snarl, stalking closer until he had you backed up against the wall. You can’t look at him, afraid you’ll slap him if you do. Your hands shake, and your jaw clenches. You and George had grown up on the same street, when he moved there. Your parents had liked him for a short space of time, until he found Matty and the band, and the wonders of drugs and alcohol. Your dad never warmed to Matty, or his van, or how the smell of cigarettes and weed always clung to you after spending time with them. Your mum had a change of heart when you were sixteen, when she came home early from work one day to find a very stoned and very half naked George in your bedroom, struggling to get his clothes back on while you looked equally disheveled. Your older brother had grassed you up a small number of the times - like when he spotted you in a bar the band was playing at, or when you had asked him to pick you up from hospital after Matty had an accident with the van, leaving you with a minor concussion. 

“So yeah, spose you’re really slumming it with a bloke who’s in a shitty dead end band who delivers fucking Chinese food and shares a flat that’s falling apart with his best mate, right - princess?” 

You focus on his chest, how it rises and falls restlessly - the lack of air, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. And you know he doesn’t mean it, not really - but you hate him for saying it all the same. 

“You know I never thought that.” 

It comes out quiet, barely audible. Almost masked by late night sirens that creep through the window, through the shadows of street lamps. You chance glancing up at him - but his expression hasn’t changed. 

“Do I?” 

It’s a mocking sound, harsh and cold. You think you lose it then, his body too close to yours, too hot. 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

It’s a typical, cliche reply - but it’s is all you can manage to get out, frustration - anger twisting your tongue. Making it hard to breathe let alone speak, you push past him. Needing air, needing to get away from him. Fingers - catching onto to your arm, imprinting heat, and you pull away. You’re both off again then - hurling insults, shouting and more shouting. 

There’s shouting until his lips are on yours, and you’re not sure who had instigated the kiss, but neither of you were fighting it. The kiss is all hot breaths, uncoordinated mouths, and desperate sounds. His hands - your waist, hips, fingers gripping until he has you back against the wall, then his hands travel to your face, jaw. Yours fisting the collar of his shirt, in efforts to pull him closer. The heat was nearly unbearable now, making you dizzy - but it felt good, it felt like George. 

Discontent sounds - when his mouth leaves yours, pressing his forehead to yours instead. He shakes his head when you try to catch his lips again, telling you to look at him, through breathless sounds. It’s a soft sound, not patronizing, cold like before. His eyes are still closed, but you wait nonetheless. The room silent - save for heavy breaths and thundering hearts. His chest heaves under your palms, and your feet ache more and more every second in the heels you were currently cursing.  

“I love you.”

Is what tumbles from his lips and sends shivers right down your spine, despite the heat. You had expected an apology, or a simple sorry. You didn’t really know what to do with a proclamation of love. It stayed sitting in the air, heavy.  At the moment, you still hated him for how he had behaved, what he had said, but love and hate are separated by a fine line.

So instead of saying anything, you kiss him again. Just as heated as before, holding nothing back, fingers stumbling over buttons on his shirt. 

Naturally, you both end up in his bed. Clothes disregard somewhere between the sitting room and his bedroom, until it was just skin on skin. The window in his room is thankfully in full working order, although the sounds of lazy night time traffic do little to hide the desperate noises, and the sound of hot skin against hotter skin that circle the room. Everywhere he touched - his lips, hands, left new trails of heat, fire. Enough imprints of mouths and fingers to prove that. Hot breaths - span across the skin where your neck and shoulder meet, his hips relentless against yours, your leg hooking around him and your fingers tugging on hair in both silent and fairly vocal requests for more. It’s all messy kisses, harsh movements, sharp pants, and sweaty bodies. Outside it starts to rain, pour. A final break.

He knows your body at lot more than you would have thought. He knows the exact places that entice soft sounds when his lips taste hot skin, and louder sounds when his teeth sink in. He knows how to drive you to the brink of insanity and make you beg for him by slowing things down when your hips arch up against his, before giving in and giving you more. He knows when you’re about to lose it, when you’re nearing the edge, from the way loud sounds turn to breathless ones that resemble his name, from the way your fingers grip, and pull, and mark skin, from how your body arches into his like there’s nothing else. Just you and him.

When you start to fall asleep it’s to the beat of steady rain - and the smell of rain meeting hot tarmac and pavements. Sweaty limbs still entangled, George’s lips pressed to the nape of your neck, soft kisses. Content, for now. 

[forzalando]

Damned Cliché - Sirius Black

hello loves! this fic was requested by a lovely anon (my very first request EEP) and this was a joy to write! I really, really hope you like it :)

Request: Hey there lovely! Can I request a sirius fic where him and the reader are both raised in pure blood families and are often partnered up at balls and galas, so they become the ultimate BFFs as teens/kids? Thank you so much I’m so excited for your blog!!!

Pairing: Sirius x Reader

Y/N: Your Name

Y/E/C: Your Eye Color

Y/H/C: Your Hair Color 

Word Count: 2063

You stood slumped against a wall with a glass of pumpkin juice in your hand, praying to the founders of Hogwarts, minus the sickening Salazar Slytherin, that it would turn into fire whiskey before your eyes. However, you knew that you weren’t going to be that lucky. Your eyes scanned the room for a familiar head of messy, black hair, but he had yet to arrive and you were bloody miserable.

Your mother kept sending young men over to ask you to dance, but you would rather take on the Whomping Willow without a wand than converse with any of the pureblood tossers your father saw as suitable company. After you had called yet another future death eater a pompous arse, your mother finally took the hint and let you stand alone in the corner of the ballroom. You couldn’t blame her though; she was only doing what your father asked of her.

After scanning the crowd of people once again, you decided the fate of your undoubtedly fashionably late best friend. The only thing that could save Sirius Black from a painful, torturous death at your hand would be his arrival within the next minute and a half, or you swore on Dumbledore’s magnificent white beard he would not live to see another day or pull another prank with his precious Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail.

Your blueprints for Sirius’s horrifying death were interrupted when two strong arms pulled you backwards into an empty corridor.

“IF YOU DON’T TAKE YOUR BLOODY HANDS OFF ME THIS INSTANT I SWEAR TO MERLIN….”, your shouts were cut short as one hand covered your mouth and the other turned you around to see the smirking face of your incorrigible best friend.

“You’re a right, foul git, Sirius Black, I hope you know that. I thought you were one of the disgusting Slytherin boys my mother has been throwing at me all night at the request of my father. I can’t wait until Christmas holiday is over and I feel the wrath of Wilkes, Avery, Mulciber, and Rosier after I basically called them all, to put it politely, a bit far off from well-endowed if you know what I mean.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter at the thought of you telling the Dark Lord’s future servants that they had shrimp dicks.

“My, my, Y/N, what foul language coming from such a respectable and regal Ravenclaw. I dare say you’ve been spending far too much time with me and my friends.”

“Oh come off it, Sirius, I’ve known you since we were babies. Any belligerent behavior I partake in has to do with the fact that I’ve grown up with you attached to my hip. For Godric’s sake, you’re like a parasitic growth, I’ve been meaning to have you surgically removed.”

“Oh, really? Then do tell me why you were sat here alone in the corner, looking like you’ve never smiled a day in your life, scanning the crowd of our fellow pureblood families looking for my unmistakable and unruly locks?”

All you could manage was a soft punch to Sirius’s shoulder as a grin spread across your face.

“Alright Black, I was looking for you. But, don’t get too cocky, we’ve been dance partners for about 10 years now, I can’t just go off waltzing with someone else, now can I? Who else is going to let me step on their toes?”

Sirius grabbed your hand, led you back into the ballroom, and stopped right in the middle of the dancing couples you had been studying earlier from your safe, cozy corner. You both placed your hands in the proper places on one another and began to step in time with the music.

Dancing with Sirius had become as easy as breathing to you over the past decade. You would never forget the first pureblood ball you were allowed to attend at the stubborn age of five. Your poor excuse of a father was, and is to this day, best mates with Sirius’s poor excuse of a father, Orion, so naturally they shoved you and Sirius together hoping to continue the ideal of marrying and procreating with other respectable pureblood families. However, much to their dismay and horror, you and Sirius managed to grow into the black sheep of your families. Sirius, a glorious Gryffindor in a never-ending line of Slytherins, and you, a radiant Ravenclaw also amongst a never-ending line of serpents.

“You know your mother won’t stop staring at us,” Sirius whispered to you once you turned away from her prying eyes.

“She’s probably giving me her famous glare because I wore a red dress instead of the emerald colored one she had made for me. Red is a Christmas color too! I could have worn pink, how ghastly would that have been.”

“Well, I for one am quite glad you wore the red. You match my tie, which of course I wore to piss off my parents. I have to remind everyone, once again, that I am a proud lion.”

You didn’t dare tell him that the reason you wore the red dress was because you wanted to match with his tie. You knew he would wear it, he always did. However, you had reason to believe your mother knew exactly why you had rejected the beautiful dress she had placed on your bed earlier in the week. She had also asked you if you were planning on being courted by anyone at the ball, which turned into quite an interesting conversation.

“Mum, you know I don’t associate with any of those ‘charming young men’ father is so fond of. They’re just too good for me, you know? I am not worthy of future slaves to the Dark Lord, so no, I’m not planning on being courted.”

Your mother, bless her heart, had covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Even though she was a pureblood Slytherin, and had married one as well, she couldn’t deny that she agreed with your sentiments and was quite proud that you were a Ravenclaw.

“Yes, dear, I know those young men are too good for you, but what about Sirius?”

Your head had snapped up quickly to meet your mother’s knowing glance. You should have known that she would figure it out; mothers have a tendency to just know everything.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Mum. Sirius is like a brother to me, that would be positively incestuous!”

“Oh, I had no idea! Would you mind telling me why you were wailing in your room to the cat about ‘stupid, bloody Sirius’ and ‘that awful Marlene McKinnon’ when you first arrived home for break?”

You told her she had no idea what she was talking about and had stalked out of your bedroom before she could even gather her thoughts.

The horrible, nasty truth was, as you danced around the silver and green ballroom, you wished that your head was nestled against Sirius’s chest as he spun you around the room gracefully. Instead, you were both strategically avoiding each other’s gaze and, although you danced beautifully, your limbs were stiff with fear of accidentally wandering about the other person’s body.

Your heartbeat was erratic, and if you could have calmed your thoughts for a fraction of a second, you would have noticed that Sirius’s was as well. The both of you kept your feelings tucked away, deciding that no one would ever know of your affections for your best friend.

Naturally, everyone knew that you and Sirius were in love with one another, the two of you were just too thick-headed to see it. His friendship was too important to you. Honestly, he was the most important part of your life, and you were afraid that if you told him he would run away and take a piece of your heart with him.

You noticed Sirius gazing at you out of the corner of your eye and turned your head so that you were finally looking at one another.

Your ever present confidence was gone as you quietly mumbled, “why are you staring at me?”

“I was just admiring the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he said nonchalantly as your breath suddenly caught in your throat.

“What? I can’t believe you didn’t see this one coming, Y/N. You’ve read every cliché romance novel Madame Pince has in the library and you never stopped to think that it was inevitable we would fall in love with each other?”

“What makes you think I’m in love with you, Black?”

“Your mother sent me an owl at the beginning of the holiday and told me that you had matted your cat’s fur with tears and bogeys crying because you thought I was getting it on with McKinnon.”

You attempted to twist your head around to find your unbelievably meddlesome mother when Sirius’s hands rested upon your cheeks and stopped your movement.

“Hey now, come on love, don’t be angry. I had a fit when I read that letter. McKinnon? Really? How could you ever think I would like her? She’s hardly my type, I mean, I much prefer Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes.”

“Well then why had you been spending so much time with her? I swear every time I turned around you were whispering and sneaking around together.”

“Ironically enough, I asked her for help on how to ask you out. She’s the only other girl I know that reads those romance novels you love and I really couldn’t go to you for help, now could I?”

You thought your heart might burst out of your chest at that exact moment. You had waited nearly three years for anything more to come of your friendship with Sirius Black, and at this moment, in front of the people you both hated the most in this world, he was finally opening his heart to you.

“So, love, your mother’s still staring at us, and now your father and my parents are as well, so I reckon we give them a good show, alright?” Sirius said as his infamous smirk appeared on his face.

Before you could ask him what he was on about, you felt his lips crash onto yours and every coherent thought flew out of your mind. You had imagined so many times what it would feel like to kiss your best friend, but this was far better than the scenarios your brain would conjure up late at night.

When Sirius pulled away, you couldn’t help the laughter that spilled from your mouth.

“Can you believe this, Sirius? We’re a damned cliché! You, the coveted ladies’ man of Hogwarts, the great Sirius Black, you are a damned cliché! We fell in love! Childhood best friends fell in love!”

The sound of Sirius’s laughter soon joined yours and the entire ballroom full of people turned to see who was disrupting the music. No one was surprised to see you and Sirius clinging to each other in the middle of the dance floor with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I suppose I still have to ask,” Sirius said in between chuckles, “but would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

“I mean I guess so, since no one else has tried to woo me, I’ll settle for you.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and pressed his lips to yours once more, ignoring the glares from his mother and father, and your father as well. A tap on your shoulder forced you to separate from Sirius and you turned to meet the mischievous eyes of your mother.

“Like a brother to you, eh? It would be completely incestuous? I have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about?” your Mother said with a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Oh, hush up,” you mumbled as heat rose to your cheeks.

“I also know you wore red so that you would match his tie. I always knew this day would come, it was positively unavoidable. I mean, really Y/N, how could you not have sensed it? You read all those cliché romance novels!”

Your mother walked away with a shake of her head, leaving you and Sirius laughing once more at the absurdity of it all and at the way the night had played out just as fate and cheesy romance novels would have wanted it to.

[lumosinlove]

The Kitchens

part vi

Remus hardly ate the servant’s dinner, even food felt irrelevant against what he had to look forward to in just a few hours. He tore his bread into smaller and smaller pieces, dipping it into his soup until it was little more than falling apart pulp sinking to the bottom of his bowl, untouched.

James fell into the chair next to him quite suddenly, making Remus jump.

“Sorry, sorry,” James shot him a sheepish smile. He practically inhaled half his soup before speaking again, “Just tired, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Remus shrugged, settling back into his chair and dropping a crust into his soup. The bread was soaking up more of it than he was by half, “’s’okay. Sirius had you up to something, did he? Or your mum?”

James shoved some bread in his mouth, “‘irius.” He swallowed thickly and took another spoonful of soup, calmer this time, “Y’know the ball? First blooms, true love, all that? How your suppose to give a girl flowers?”

Remus’ appetite vanished completely at the mention of Sirius and ‘giving a girl flowers’ in the same conversation, “Oh.” He actually did take some soup, just for something to do, and nodded, “Yeah.”

James let out a breath, shaking his head slightly, “Well, he’s got someone in mind. Jesus, I don’t know how I could’ve missed it. I mean, whoever she is, judging by the fucking effort he- well, I went through, she must be important to him. Whoever she is. He wouldn’t bloody let on.” James added the last part in a bitter mumble.

Remus only nodded some more, heart slowly sinking in his chest, “He- He’s got plans then? For this girl, I mean.”

James laughed, “I’d hope so. I wouldn’t like to have gone around picking a million flowers to bring all the way to the fucking West parlor for nothing, now would I?”

Remus’ heart stuttered, froze, then seemed to leap back into its rightful place to pound against his ribs.

Oh.

Remus nearly knocked his bowl over, then gripped the edges, trying to steady himself.

Flowers. The West parlor.

That’s for you. It’s for you.

“No.” Remus took a larger spoonful, and some bread, hoping to mask a smile, “No, you wouldn’t.”

~

Remus felt like he was walking almost carefully over the preciously polished stones of the Black Castle. He looked down, watching his feet, then behind him, as if his shoes were tracking a visible trail of dust for someone to discover. But the halls were deserted. He was accompanied only by the distant sounds of the dance going on. Remus stopped a few window panes away from the parlor door, letting out a breath and gripping the stone sill. He could smell the thick scent of beeswax even from out here, and figured Sirius must have at least a dozen candles burning to make the scent so strong.  The thought made his cheeks heat. Flowers, James had said. And now candles. Remus let out a breath, smiling to himself. He hoped Sirius knew he was a romantic. If not, Remus would be sure to let him know.

He pressed his wrists to the window, trying to cool his body, heated with nerves, and, still, hesitated. Sirius was waiting just inside. He should go in. He wanted to go in. He didn’t want—he didn’t choose—to give his mind so much time to feel guilty, or nervous, or whatever this emotion was. He didn’t want Mrs. Potter’s words ringing around in his head.

The past can be a tempting thing.

Would this be one of those dangerous memories she had warned against? Would he one day be so desperate for this moment that it would ruin him?

Remus thought he knew the answer.

He wasn’t sure he cared.

He knocked on the door softly, not sure why, and Sirius’ voice came from within almost instantly, sounding warm and excited even through the dark wood. When he pushed the door open, he might as well have stepped into a different world. He had been right, and James definitely hadn’t been exaggerating. Dozens of flowers, most of them wild ones that he recognized from around the grounds, littered the room, their petals randomly scattered around the floor. Candles dotted the empty spaces between, turning the closest buds to gold, and bathing the room in a warm light. And Sirius.

Sirius.

With his impeccable, ingrained posture not at all matching the nervous way he was biting his lip, Sirius stood in the middle of it all, clad in a deep plum overcoat, the material looking light and airy for a summer’s night, the leather shoulders making him look even broader. The lace up white linen shirt only just peaked out from beneath the leather ties of the front. He looked just as golden as the light, hair messy and falling into his eyes.

Royal.

Remus breathed out shakily closing the door without looking away and leaned against it. He definitely knew his answer now. What a memory this would make.

“You look dressed for a ball.”

Sirius grinned, hands in the pockets of his dark trousers, “What ball?”

Remus narrowed his eyes, pressing back a smile, “Your ball. Isn’t there some girl you should be entertaining?”

At this Sirius raised an eyebrow, withdrawing his hands and striding forward until he could press his palms flat against the wood of the door on either side of Remus’ head, “What ball?” He said again, then, pitching his voice lower, “I’m here with you.”

Remus smiled back at this. He wanted to reach out and touch Sirius, only he didn’t look quite real right then, standing there wreathed in flowers, haloed in light.

This boy is unattainable.

Remus swallowed, “That’s a lot of flowers.”

Sirius glanced back, eyes flickering around the room for a moment before they fell back down to Remus’, “Well. You’re an important person.”

“Am I?”

Remus felt the way Sirius’ chest rose and fell with his breath, “Hm,” he agreed, “You are.”

This is all for you.

“James, he-“

“Doesn’t know.” Sirius said quickly, then tilted his head, “How did you…”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “You forget we practically live together.”

Sirius drew a breath, nodding in understanding, but his head was still tilted, he still looked uncomfortable.

Remus reached out slowly, eyes flickering downward to follow his hand for only a second as his fingers brushed along the hem of Sirius’ shirt, holding it softly between his thumb and forefinger, “What is it?”

Sirius’ eyes, which had strayed and unfocused, flicked back to Remus’, “What?”

“You have that face on. The one when something’s bothering you.”

Sirius’ eyes softened considerably, mouth opening slightly, “I… I have a face?”

Remus nodded a little, small smile creeping over his lips, “Yes. Your eyes go all dreamy and that little crease appears just..” Remus reached upwards with his thumb, attempting to smooth away the line between Sirius’ eyebrows, “there.”

Sirius’ brows only furrowed deeper and he leaned in a little more, “You’re very observant.”

“I hope that’s a complement.” Remus laughed.

Sirius shook his head, smiling a little as well, “No, it is, it’s just… No one’s ever… noticed…” He trailed off again and again, and then shook his head some more, “It’s nothing, really, I’m just… I don’t usually lie to James.”

Remus was a little stuck on the previous part of the statement, the part that tore at his heart a bit, but he nodded. He supposed he was still coming to terms with just how close Sirius and James actually were. Before learning of them, he’d always known servant-to-household relationships to be civil at best, but in most cases not all together pleasant.

Then again, it might be hypocritical to speak like that now, given the current position he was in. He felt the heat of Sirius’ body around him and smiled. Literally the position he was in.

“What?” Sirius laughed.

“Nothing. Maybe you won’t have to lie to him forever.”

Sirius nodded.

Remus nodded.

They both didn’t believe it.

Sirius snapped out of it first, “Never mind that now. This isn’t about James, or me. This,” Sirius took a step back, hands sliding down to catch Remus’ in the same motion and pulling him with him, “is all for you.”

Remus’ heart caught. He had already known, but to hear Sirius say it…

Then suddenly he was against Sirius’ chest again, foreheads nearly together, strong arms wrapped securely around his waist, “You like it, don’t you?”

Remus smiled, relishing in the way Sirius’ nose bumped against his own, and nodded. God, now that he was here, encircled in these arms again, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop touching Sirius.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, is all.” Sirius rambled, “You don’t seem like a rose person. Really, any flower my mum had just didn’t… it wasn’t right. These are from the castle grounds, James he—well, I made him get them. I’d do it myself but, you know, prying eyes and all. Didn’t want the entire castle knowing I was thinking of someone for first bloom. I don’t even want to know all the questions that would come along with that-“

“Sirius.” Remus said softly.

“I know I’m talking, I just want to make sure you like it-“

“Sirius.” Remus pressed his hand to Sirius’ cheek, carefully avoiding the still fresh cut there, trying to sooth the worry from his eyes. He pressed up, embarrassingly, on his toes to press a soft kiss to his mouth, “It’s wonderful, I like it… I like you.”

Sirius stood there for a moment, lips parted as if hoping for another kiss, and then smiled, “Yeah?”

And Remus let himself go a little, that soft smile he was receiving softening his resolve, and wound his arms around Sirius’ neck, “Yeah.”

Sirius wet his lips, tongue only just peaking out, and then his palms were spanning Remus’ back, flattening out and pressing him forward almost urgently. Remus felt heat prickle beneath his skin, “God…”

“I don’t…” Sirius let out a frustrated sound, “I don’t have all night. I have to make some appearance, I-“ Remus felt Sirius’ chest rising slightly faster against his own, “God, this is torture.”

Remus inhaled sharply, caught between Sirius’ words and the feeling of his mouth that was now mouthing lightly against his jaw just beneath his ear, “We- We have some time, don’t we? No one’s- fuck-” Remus was practically arched against Sirius’ chest now he was being held so tightly. He never wanted Sirius to pull away, “no one’s going to walk in here, are they?”

Sirius’ breath was hot on Remus’ lips when he pulled back, just enough to press their foreheads together once again. The air in the room seemed suspended for a brief moment, and all that was left was them.

“Not a soul.” Sirius breathed, and then he was locking their mouths together, knocking the air from Remus’ lungs.

How odd it was, standing in that room and thinking that, what was it, just a week ago? Two? A blimp of time in a life, a small collection of hours and minutes and seconds ago, Remus had not even known Sirius. He had stood up from the fireplace in this room and turned around to see a sleep deprived prince standing there, rude and entitled. Mere days passed, filled with not all together perfect exchanges, but also filled with giving and receiving secrets that had never been told. And now he was kissing that prince. Now he was kissing him and he never wanted to kiss or be kissed by anyone else. It was the stuff of stories. Such a short amount of time to acquire so many feelings. Trust, being one. Respect. Lust.

How much time did they have? How much more of himself would Remus be able to give to Sirius? How much would Sirius be able to give in return?

Now, with hands holding cheeks, gripping hair, being backed up until Remus’ knees hit the couch and they fell, messily together, Remus could feel the unspoken flow of all these things between them, waiting, and there.

They were like an undercurrent of energy, powerful but not tangible. Remus suddenly needed to feel so much closer, to be more connected, as if holding on to something, anything, would make this last. His hands flew to Sirius clothing, the material rich, the leather ties sturdy but giving away easily to his fingertips. He pulled and unknotted, never breaking their kiss, until the garment fell open and he could reach down, tucking under the soft linen of Sirius’ shirt and pressing his hands to the heated skin beneath, feeling each muscle and rib. Sirius was gasping into his mouth, and fell from the support of his hands to his forearms, bringing them closer.

“Remus…” The word sounded broken, blurred by the lack of space Sirius was willing to put between them to say it properly, and pleading. It made Remus feel like he couldn’t breathe.

It was all so new. It was what he’d stopped himself from for so long, told himself again and again, not allowed not allowed not allowed. And suddenly it was. Suddenly he had a boy’s body against his own, kissing him back with just as much need as he had, saying his name at the feeling of his touch.

Sirius suddenly drew himself up a little, shifting until his thigh was settled comfortably between Remus’. And then he was pressing down with a firm, relentless pressure that had stars sparking at the edges of Remus’ vision. He broke the kiss for only the pure need of air, eyes squeezing shut and head falling back as Sirius rocked against him gently, the rough fabric of their pants the only thing barring the heated friction. With his neck newly exposed, Sirius attacked, sucking at the thin skin, pressing kiss after kiss. Remus felt his hand clutch his hip, thumb rubbing softly underneath his shirt.

“Christ… Jesus fucking…” Sirius panted against his throat, hips bucking forward, and his hand suddenly at the small of Remus’ back, pressing him upwards as Remus clutched him tighter, one leg hooking around Sirius’ of its own accord.

“Sirius-“ He was gasping, nearly rendered speechless at the sheer speed at which blood was flowing straight to his groin. He felt him press a few kisses to his collar bone, relishing in the way Sirius was nudging the fabric of his shirt away. He felt the lace up at the front loosen considerably and fall away, and swore he felt the scrape of teeth.

“Fuck-“ Remus groaned, “Fuck, did you just…”

“Hands are a little busy,” Sirius let out a breathless laugh, then promptly nuzzled Remus’ chest, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses there, “God. God, you’re gorgeous…”

“Sirius…” Remus practically moaned it, hands moving to press at Sirius’ lower back, bringing their hips tighter together. Then he really did moan, bucking his hips up to match Sirius’ thrusts downward, “Oh god, I need…”

“Tell me.” Sirius said lowly, “Tell me, Remus. Anything. You can have anything-“

A knock on the door sounded loudly in the room. 
Remus had never stilled faster in his light, blood running cold, heart picking up for an entirely different reason. Sirius, on the other hand groaned in desperation, letting almost his entire weight pleasantly fall on Remus and buried his face in the crook of Remus’ neck, mumbling what sounded like no a few times.

“Sirius.” Remus’ swallowed down the panic in his voice, “Who… Who is-“

“It’s James.” Sirius said, voice muffled by Remus’ skin, the warmth of it making Remus shiver, “It’s just James, he won’t come in. I told him to knock when my mum finally noticed… God, fuck. I fucking hate…” He didn’t finish, just let out a long breath and pressed another long kiss to Remus’ heated skin, “I’m sorry.”

Another, slightly louder, knock sounded.

“Yes, I’m coming!” Sirius growled.

Sirius lifted his head to look at Remus, and Remus nearly forgot anyone was at the door at all, much less cared. Because Sirius’ cheeks were flushed a deep pink, looking lovely and dark against his tanned skin. His lips were swollen from kissing, hair messy from Remus’ fingers. With his blown pupils and clothes hanging half off of him, Remus felt his pants tighten further if it was possible, cock giving a slightly desperate twitch. He felt Sirius’ hips respond with a soft press.

Remus groaned softly, withdrawing his hands from Sirius’ shirt and pressing them to his cheeks instead, bringing their mouths together again, kissing him hard and taking his time about it.

“Stay.” He said in between, “God, stay.”

Sirius’ brow creased and he kissed Remus harder, as if trying to imprint the feeling onto his skin.

They both knew he couldn’t. After a few more seconds, Remus released him and helped him tie up his shirt properly while Sirius stood there looking miserable, and pressing kisses to various parts of Remus’ forehead and temples.

When they were both properly dressed and after many painful trouser adjustments, Sirius pulled Remus back to him, “You won’t leave my mind for a moment tonight.” He said softly, fingers splayed on Remus’ cheek, reaching into the feathery hair by his ear. His smile grew slightly more mischievous, but his eyes were honest, “You… You do know what giving someone flowers means tonight, don’t you?”

Remus just kissed him, too overwhelmed for words.

I know.

Sirius backed him up, kissing him in short, desperate bursts until they were in front of the door. He pulled back, positioning Remus where he was safely hidden behind it, and with a last touch, a last look, he opened it and was gone. Remus heard a short snippet of James apologizing and Sirius sighing, and then the door closed.

Remus blew out the candles slowly, one by one, then opened the window to let the smoke waft out and the warm night breeze in. It was only under the safe cover of darkness and the moon that he put a chair in front of the door, laid back on the couch, and pressed a hand around himself, already living desperately for the memory that was not even ten minutes over.

[amymel86]

Actions and Consequences - part 2 of 2 - Jonsa

"Oh isn't he just adorable"?! Jon's mum cooed as she rocked and bounced little 3 month old baby Eddie where she stood in the middle of their living room.

"Yes, yes" Ned said with a little frustration as he swiped the baby from Lyanna's arms and deposited him into Jon's with a more satisfied look upon his face. "There you go lad, time to find out about being a man".

Lyanna huffed with both amusement and exasperation. Jon stared at the big blue eyes of the baby boy in his arms, not sure what the hell he should do next. This was a joke right? 

"Ned, do you really think that this is necess-".

"Oh absolutely" Ned interrupted with a wide grin aimed at the two teenagers sitting on the couch.

Just then, sweet little Eddie very audibly filled his nappy. it was quite possibly the grossest noise Jon had ever heard....closely followed by the grossest smell Jon had ever smelt. He gaped back at the baby, who was very nonchalant about the whole episode as he chewed on his little chubby baby fist.

"You'd better see to that lad" Ned nodded, his whole body brimming with gleeful energy. Sansa glared up at her Dad before hooking Jon under the elbow to corral him towards the baby bag that was still at the bottom of the stairs.

"This is utterly ridiculous" she muttered under her breath as she laid out a changing mat and began pulling out all kinds of baby paraphernalia from the bag with the teddies on.

Jon's first experience of changing a nappy could have gone better. He would have preferred little Eddie to not kick his legs in a way that meant he put his foot in his own poop. He would have liked it if said nappy had actually been able to contain all of Eddie's mess so that he and Sansa didn't have to wrestle with the boy to change his dirty clothes. And if he'd have had the choice, he would have chosen not to get peed on too.

What. The. Actual. Fuck? 

Is Ned for real?

"Having trouble kiddos"? Ned came out to where they were knelt over Eddie in the hallway, hands clasped behind his back, face plastered with an insufferable grin.

"No dad, we've got this - haven't we Jon"? Sansa said, giving Jon a meaningful look. Sansa Stark was a determined girl who never liked admitting defeat. Jon knew this, and sighed before he found himself nodding back at papa Stark.

"Great! Well, better get your stuff packed then Jon".

"Huh"?

"Well you can't very well get a feel for the whole experience of being a parent if you're not going to stay with the baby can you"?

"You want me to stay in your house? After everything you saw-" Jon's vocal chords suddenly felt like they were being gagged by Ned's fearsome glare.

Right - better not mention the whole 'me trying to de-flower your little girl' thing.

"Well you'll be needed for the night feeds - I'm sure you wouldn't want to lumber poor Sansa here with all the nocturnal duties would you Jon"? he said with a serious look. Sansa huffed and rolled her eyes.

"Er...No sir".

"Good! Besides, your camp-bed will be on the other side of Sansa's room, little Eddie's moses basket will be between you and the door will be kept open at all times - do you hear me"? Ned finished with a pointed finger. Jon felt himself go red in the face. Is this really happening? Is this what it looks like to have an actual break down? 

"God Dad, you're so dramatic"! Sansa complained.

"We'll see who's dramatic when you're being woken every couple of hours in the night, your bleary eyes won't focus on getting the right amount of scoops of milk formula in the bottle while your pretty pyjama top has got baby sick all over the shoulder Sansa" Ned smiled knowingly.

  "What's going on love"? Catelyn asked her husband as she brought the last of her shopping in from the car "why is there a pile of baby things in the hall" she leaned around the door frame to peek into the lounge, giving Sansa and Jon and smile when she caught their eyes. "What's Eddie doing here"? Catelyn attempted to whisper her next words to her husband but Jon heard them anyway "and what is Jon doing here? I thought you said you'd make him a eunuch if he ever stepped foot inside this house again"? Jon could hear the mirth in her hushed voice but he failed to see what was so funny. I'm quite sure Ned meant it at the time.

"Jon and our daughter are learning about actions and consequences by taking care of Eddie for the weekend" he replied in a rather matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh Ned, that's ridiculous, really it is"! She said, now walking into the lounge to take her infant nephew from Jon's arms for a cuddle. "Hello little gorgeous man"! she cooed, Eddie beamed a toothless smile back at his Aunt.

"Ah ah ah! Let the boy have the baby Cat"!

"Oh you're being ludicrous Ned"! She exclaimed as she handed the baby back to Jon and walked out to the kitchen, her husband following, listing all his justifications as he went.

Jon and Sansa stared at each other as they sat there on the couch, both of them not quite believing what they were apparently embarking on. Eddie began to cry.

As it turns out, sometimes babies cry for no fucking reason. Not one that either he or Sansa could decipher anyway. All help from Catelyn was quickly shooed away by a gleeful Ned. The other Stark kids seemed to make themselves scarce once they'd been informed of the situation and Jon felt exhausted already even though he'd only been a 'parent' for the grand total of 6 hours.

Sansa on the other hand, didn't seem phased at all as she stood rocking Eddie as he gradually fell asleep, head lolled onto her shoulder, his mouth and jaw working in his sleep like he was still sucking on a bottle. It was bloody adorable.

That first night was possibly the worst nights sleep Jon had ever endured. His girlfriend was only a few torturous metres away, dressed in nothing but sleep shorts and a strappy top but he couldn't do anything about that - not with Ned on patrol, pretending to take an idle stroll past Sansa's open door like it was a perfectly normal thing to be doing at 3am. And if it wasn't that - it was little alarm-clock-Eddie, screaming at the tops of his lungs, wanting a bottle and a nappy change every 3 hours. Needless to say, Jon and Sansa were more than tired come morning.

It wasn't all bad though, Jon came to find out as he sat with the baby laid out on top of his legs, staring back up at him. Jon started pulling some faces and was surprised to get a grin and a happy squeal out of the little boy - it was quite possibly one of the cutest things he'd ever seen.

"I think Dad's plan might be backfiring" Sansa whispered to Jon as she gripped her coffee mug with both hands, a slight hint of the dark circles of tiredness under her eyes.

"Oh yea? How's that"?

"Well" she took a gulp of coffee "seeing how good you are with Eddie only makes me want you more" Sansa grinned over the rim of her cup. Jon blinked back at her, raising one eyebrow in question. "You're all gentle and patient and sweet with him and I don't know....I like it" she blushed. Jon didn't think that he'd been any of those things particularly - he was just trying to get through this, this - whatever it is - that Ned was putting them through, but if that was having an effect on Sansa, then bring it on!

"You're better at it then I am Sans, you'll be a great Mum one day" he smiled.

"Really"? 

"Yea, really".

Sansa yawned and set down her coffee on the table before Jon rearranged Eddie in the cradle of one arm so that she could tuck herself into his side under the other. And there the three of them took a little nap on the couch.

  "What are you doing this time Ned"? Cat asked as she found her husband muttering to himself in his study, clicking and typing on his computer with agitated huffs becoming more and more frequent.

"You'll have to call your brother to come and get Eddie".

"Why?! What's happened? Is everything alright"? his wife asked with slight panic.

"No - everything is not 'alright' Cat! He's too bloody cute" Ned answered, not looking up from his laptop screen.

"I beg your pardon"?

Ned let out another annoyed huff "Eddie. He's too cute. They're in there right now looking like the paragon of parenthood" he said, waving a hand in the direction of the lounge "Jon was making him laugh earlier and Sansa was even more googly-eyed over the boy than normal! They don't seem stressed or anything! They're....coping well" he said the last words like they were curses. His wife laughed.

"Isn't that a good thing"?

"No it bloody well isn't"!

"Ned" Cat started, her hands on her hips now "what is all this about? Don't you trust Sansa? I know she's our little girl but in reality she's of legal age and will be considered an adult soon. And you've known Jon practically all his life! You know he's a sweet boy".

"Sweet boy huh"? Ned muttered in response "You didn't see what that sweet boy was doing to Sans-"

"And you were so virtuous when we were young were you"?! Catelyn cut in. "I remember what you were like at that age Ned Stark, don't think I've forgotten" she wagged a finger at her husband.

"EXACTLY! And look where that got us! You pregnant with Robb and me borrowing money from my Dad for a wedding"!

"And look at us now" Cat answered with a soft smile. "You wouldn't change it for the world Ned, and neither would I. Besides, Sansa's a responsible girl, I'm sure they'd thought it through".

"But she's my little girl Cat! She used to run to me when she scraped her knee and plagued me to help her brush her Barbie's hair and now she wants to....to..."

"Do something perfectly natural and normal with a boy who she trusts and I dare say 'loves'"?

"Aye....maybe you're right" Ned conceded before his gaze went back to his computer screen "Ah-ha! Here it is"! he exclaimed. "The RealBaby Care Simulator - the completely programmable life like parenting experience doll'.... It's like those things they use in childcare classes Cat! We can set it to it's most difficult setting - those two have had it easy with Eddie, I think he likes them too much".

Catelyn shook her head to herself before silently reaching over and slowly pushing the screen of her husband's laptop closed. "Ned, No".

  The second night went much the same as the first, Jon mused. However, he didn't recall witnessing Sansa's Dad walk by her open door once.

Even though he was beyond tired and feeling a little frazzled from spending a lot of energy trying to second guess the baby's needs, he can't say that he didn't completely enjoy the experience. Eddie was a cute little guy and he'd gotten to spend the whole weekend with Sansa. When Sansa's Uncle Edmure and Aunt Roslyn came to pick up their bundle of joy he was kind of sad to see him go.

"I don't know what this whole 'thing' was trying to prove Dad" Sansa said as Ned, Jon, Catelyn and herself gathered around the kitchen island. "You know I want to go to Uni, I don't plan on getting pregnant anytime soon".

Ned grumbled into his mug before softening his features and giving his daughter a fond smile. As if this was some kind of unspoken agreement to leave this whole episode to the past, Sansa beamed back at her Father. "Ok well Jon's going to help me with some English coursework I have" she said over breezily, walking backwards towards the stairs, grabbing Jon by the hand as she went.

"Oh Sansa" Catelyn stopped them before they could disappear together to her room "I have something for you" she said, handing her daughter a large brown paper bag. Sansa peered inside, blushed profusely and mumbled a 'thanks Mum' before she bolted upstairs, tugging Jon along with her.

"Keep that door open"! Ned called behind them.

"Urgh! I cannot believe my parents"! Sansa huffed before throwing herself face down onto her bed once they'd reached her room. She continued to make grumbling noises as she thrust the arm out that was holding onto the brown paper bag with an exasperated groan. Jon took it and peeked inside.

"Wow" he breathed "I didn't even know you could get condoms in this kind of quantity"!

Sansa only grunted in response.