#jane austen oneshot

[talesfromthebandgeekmafia]

Properly rewatching A Court of Fey & Flowers for the first time I forgot how good this season was it’s honestly even better on the second watch

[observations-from-earth]

help, i'm supposed to die and be reborn in a virtual reality

“Transition is upon you, Emily! Go on a vacation, spend time with your kids, and enjoy the human experience as it is. It won’t ever be this potent again!” I understand my physical doctor meant for this to be some encouraging call to action, but it’s definitely having the opposite effect. I can’t quite describe what came over me post-appointment. It felt like the weight of my entire unconscious…

[sunnami]

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders + lily x reader.

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society. 

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black. 

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun. 

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways. 

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun. 

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused. 

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.” 

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt. 

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?” 

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?” 

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.” 

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.” 

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—” 

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society. 

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly. 

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.” 

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?” 

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it. 

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!” 

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity. 

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give. 

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress. 

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry. 

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight. 

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat. 

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period. 

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then— 

“That’s Sirius.” 

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit. 

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.” 

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!” 

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.” 

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either. 

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.) 

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.” 

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.” 

You grimace. “Which cousin?” 

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.” 

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.” 

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.” 

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.” 

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.” 

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice. 

You nod. 

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.” 

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe. 

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.) 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.” 

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you. 

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.” 

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?” 

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?” 

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.” 

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.” 

“Oh, Harry. . .” 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?” 

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath. 

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly. 

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?” 

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.” 

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?” 

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes. 

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.” 

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be. 

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”  

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.” 

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space. 

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered. 

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved. 

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease. 

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open. 

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.” 

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears. 

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!” 

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.” 

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.” 

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked. 

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?” 

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations. 

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?” 

Were you? 

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend! 

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize. 

Then, you find it. 

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face. 

It’s a space on that wall just for you. 

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.” 

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much. 

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.” 

That’s all you say before you run out of the door. 

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.) 

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe. 

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.” 

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.” 

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well. 

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.” 

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes. 

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.” 

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!” 

You don’t look back. 

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.” 

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair. 

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.” 

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you. 

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?” 

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks. 

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!” 

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?” 

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.” 

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.” 

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater. 

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra. 

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.” 

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more. 

“Certain,” You respond, yawning. 

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones. 

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!” 

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out. 

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came. 

“I know,” You say defeatedly. 

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.” 

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.” 

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?” 

“I don’t know,” You say honestly. 

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora. 

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—” 

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well. 

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.) 

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.” 

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.” 

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home. 

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order. 

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips. 

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.” 

“I’m always right.” You pout. 

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.” 

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back. 

How lucky you are. 

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen. 

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly. 

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.” 

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!” 

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?” 

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.” 

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.” 

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway. 

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.” 

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.” 

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will. 

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!” 

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.” 

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?” 

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.” 

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.” 

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.” 

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.” 

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?” 

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror. 

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.” 

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll. 

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.” 

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them. 

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.” 

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?” 

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.” 

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.” 

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness. 

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters. 

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement. 

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue. 

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead. 

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.” 

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?” 

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor. 

“No!” 

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice. 

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh. 

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?” 

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need. 

“Expulso!” 

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down. 

“Accio wand!” 

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense. 

“Peter?” You call out. 

“Crucio!” 

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt. 

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!” 

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.” 

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.” 

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat. 

“Defodio!” 

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground. 

That just leaves one more problem. 

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.” 

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.” 

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.” 

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.” 

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die,  s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.” 

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow. 

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work. 

You just wanted to rest now. 

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words. 

“Avada Kedavra.” 

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms. 

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.” 

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely. 

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?” 

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?” 

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?” 

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.” 

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?” 

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors. 

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!” 

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.” 

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.) 

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus. 

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains. 

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.) 

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by. 

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for. 

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

[acotarspritz]

Medals and Misunderstandings - an ACOTAR Olympics AU

Azriel x swimmer!reader

Blurb : You run into Azriel in the Olympic village and he can't seem to get you off his mind, but when you see him again you are convinced the handsome guy with amber eyes doesn't like you, so you go out of your way to avoid him. (Part 1)

Author's Note: AHHHHH here is the first part of my Olympics inspired Acotar AU. I will most likely do multiple short series or oneshots for different characters (if you have any ideas/ requests please send them in), and I will most definitely write a second part for this, I just wanted to get this first part out before overthinking it and disappearing from the face of the Earth! This is my first time writing fanfiction for ACOTAR, and my first time writing fanfiction in a long time (live, laugh, love the inspiration draught), so please don't expect me to turn into Jane Austen. Other than that, hope you enjoy !!

warnings : english is not my first language so please excuse any/all grammar errors, not entirely proofread, slight mentions of injury, slight mentions of burn scars (Az's hands), swearing, reading thinking people are laughing at her

lemme know if I missed any and I'll add them !

-~~-

You couldn’t believe your alarm hadn’t rang. You thought back to the night, before when you had set it to make sure you would have enough time for breakfast before practice, as you ran to exit the Olympic Village. The good news was that the pool wasn’t too far from the village, but as you looked back at your watch you felt your panic rise. No matter how close the pool was, you were still very late, and you knew your coach would be extremely angry when you showed up.

Before you could even contemplate what she would say to you, you felt yourself run head-first into something, and the next thing you knew you were sprawled out on the pavement. Pain shot up your spine at the impact, and you were grateful you had packed painkillers in your bag last night. 

A hand appeared in front of you, to help you up you assumed. As if your morning couldn’t go any worse, of course you had to run head first into someone. You looked up as you grabbed the hand held out to you, and your eyes fell on what you were sure had to be one of the most attractive men you had ever seen. He helped you up with a sheepish smile, but all you could focus on was his eyes, like pools of molten gold. 

The stranger cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, I should have been more focused on where I was going, are you alright?”

His deep, slightly raspy voice broke you out of your daydream, and you realized in panic that you were still extremely late to practice. You grabbed your bag that had fallen off your shoulder when you ended up on the floor, and looked back at him before spluttering “I’m okay, um, it was my fault really, I was the one running and I-”, your phone ringing in your pocket, most likely your coach, told you that it was really time to get to practice, “I have to go, sorry!” 

You were already running as you uttered your apology, leaving behind the mysteriously attractive man with honey eyes, and heading to practice, where you were certain to get an earful from your coach. 

-~~-

As Azriel walked back to the cafeteria to grab breakfast with his teammates, he couldn’t help but think of the girl he had run into this morning. Well, technically, the girl who ran into him. He had gone for an early morning walk to clear his head of the nightmares that had plagued him and had made it impossible for him to get enough sleep, when you had barreled into him at full speed. He hadn’t seen you coming, and before he could react you were on the floor in front of him. He had hesitated before holding his hand out to help you up, the burn marks on his hands often causing people to avoid touching him as though he carried some sort of disease, yet you had grabbed it without a second thought and let him pull you up. 

Maybe you hadn’t noticed, or just didn’t care, but your reaction had caused him to falter slightly. You had run off about as quickly as you had run into him, and you would probably not think twice about him today, but he couldn’t seem to get you off his mind. You had looked so effortlessly beautiful, with your hair up, and your slightly red cheeks, although he wasn’t sure if it was from running or embarrassment. Were you an athlete? Or maybe a volunteer? 

Azriel didn’t have much more time to think about who you were as he had already made it to the cafeteria, and he saw two of his teammates and friends sitting while waiting for him. He sat next to Cassian, who passed him a black coffee and a few slices of toast that he had grabbed, knowing that Azriel didn’t like anything too complicated for breakfast. He gave a small smile at how well the man knew him before sipping on his coffee. 

His mind once again drifted back to you, as he listened to Cassian rant about his girlfriend, Nesta. He hadn’t recognized the colors you were wearing, but maybe you had decided to wear something other than your olympian uniform, which made finding out who you were a lot more complicated. There were thousands of athletes participating in the games this year, and even more volunteers, what were the odds of him running into you again? 

Azriel could feel someone’s eyes on him, and looked up to find Rhys, another teammate and his team captain, looking at him with a calculating gaze. Cassian, who had stopped talking when he realized neither man was listening to him complain about how much time his girlfriend spent reading instead of with him, whined, “How come you guys never care when I’m having relationship problems?” 

Azriel and Rhys both let out a laugh. They were used to his dramatics of course, having grown up together, but that never made his reactions any less entertaining. Before he could complain any more, Rhys shot him a look before turning back to Azriel. “What’s on your mind, Az?”

He wasn’t sure how Rhys knew something was bothering him. He had always been able to see when Azriel had something on his mind, even if Azriel was convinced he didn’t show it, almost as though he could read his mind. But then again, they had known each other for years, and were incredibly in tune with each other, which is why all three of them worked so well on the field, or perhaps Azriel just wasn’t as discrete as he had always thought he was. 

“Nothing’s bothering me, I’m just a little tired I guess,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. 

He could see Rhys’ eyes narrow as he looked over his face. Whatever he saw convinced him to drop the subject, but he sent Azriel a look that very clearly told him that the conversion was not over. Cassian must have sensed that the conversation would not go any further, and broke all seriousness as he exclaimed, “Now can we get back to the matter at hand? Nesta loves her books more than she loves me!” and sent the two other men into a laughing fit.

-~~-

You had underestimated how angry your coach would be because of your tardiness. Not only had she yelled so loud you were certain everyone within five kilometers of the pool had heard her, she had also pushed you a lot harder; more core strength exercises that had left your abs throbbing, and so many more laps than she usually made you do. You were already slightly sore when you had sat with Tarquin at dinner, but you were sure tomorrow it would be much worse. 

Varian and Cresseida had joined the two of you about twenty minutes ago with their food, as you guys had been doing since the Olympics had begun a few days ago, and were currently arguing over who the faster runner was. It was a silly argument, considering neither of them were runners, and you were pretty sure the only time you had seen Cresseida run was when there was a sale in one of her favorite shops. Suddenly, the table fell quiet and a cocky smile appeared on Varian’s face, and you knew exactly who had approached your table. 

It was a routine by now; Tarquin, Varian, Cresseida and you would sit down for dinner all together, and half way through, Amren, Varian’s girlfriend or something of the sort at least, would join. No one truly knew what those two were, and your questions remained unanswered everytime you brought it up, but everyone knew they were something and that was enough.

You turned your head to give her a small smile, which she answered with a slight nod towards you before heading to sit next to Varian. She often came off as quite cold and disinterested, but you had grown to see beyond her facade over the years of her “dating” your friend, and had also grown to appreciate her calm presence, a big contrast to Varian’s ever present energy.

The two broke off into their own conversation, so you turned back to your other friends, who were already looking at you. They exchanged a quick look and before you could try and detect what they had communicated in that instant, Tarquin looked back at you, “So how badly did you get rammed into this morning by Coach Claire?”

Cresseida was quick to reach across the table to smack his arm, “You fucking idiot, we said we would ease into it! God, I should have known you would be useless,” her irritated tone softened when you sighed and she asked, “You okay Y/n? We all know how bad she can be…”

“Yeah I’m fine, don’t worry. I think she’s just stressed, you know? And I know she expects perfection at every moment of every day, but god it’s exhausting. Plus I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow.” 

Both your friends smiled in compassion. It was no secret how strict Coach Claire was, and how much she valued perfection above all. You were just glad your qualifying rounds didn’t start tomorrow, as it would give you a bit more time to overcome the soreness that was slowly increasing in your legs.

You all turned to Amren and Varian when you heard her scoff and throw up a middle finger to another table in the cafeteria. “I swear if they don’t stop staring I’m going over there and hitting all three of them. Any time I sit with anyone else they take it so personally as if I’m not allowed to have a life that doesn’t revolve around them.” Amren shook her head and you heard her mutter “Illyrian babies” under her breath, which prompted you to turn and see what table she was talking about.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met with the honey-colored eyes of the stranger you bumped into this morning, sitting between two other guys. You took the opportunity to look him over, as you hadn’t had much time when you had seen him earlier. He had messy black hair that kind of flopped over his forehead, as though he often passed a hand through it in frustration, or when he was thinking, and he was buff. You expected him to be, considering you thought you had run into a streetlight when you ran into him, but still, he was more buff than you had thought. His arms were huge, and when you mentally compared them to yours, you found the image ridiculous. Your eyes drifted over his chest, where his dark navy blue, almost dark purple, shirt stretched, and you narrowed your eyes to try and read the silver writing you could see on his top. Velaris. 

So he represented Velaris? Just like Amren then. Velaris was pretty well known across the United Courts of Prythian, and although it belonged to Night, it often participated in competitions as an independent federation. You looked back at his face and offered him a small smile, all while raising your hand in greeting. Although you were very embarrassed about your encounter this morning, it was no reason to be rude, especially if these were people that Amren was close to. 

You felt your cheeks redden in embarrassment when he simply stared at you with those amber eyes, and did not smile back, or even give an indication that he recognized you. You quickly turned back to your table, slightly humiliated. Cresseida raised an eyebrow as she looked at you, clearly having seen the interaction go down, and you simply shook your head as your cheeks became even more red. 

A boisterous laugh broke out somewhere behind you, and you instinctively glanced at the table where you knew the Velaris athletes were sitting, and your humiliation only worsened. The laugh belonged to the man sat on the right of the one you had run into, and you noted that although your mysterious stranger was buff, the one laughing was somehow even more muscular, and had more of a rugged look. The one on the other side was also laughing, although his laughter was more controlled. The five girls, three of which had originally been facing away from you, were all looking at your table, no, they were all looking at you, and to make matters worse, the stranger from that morning was still looking at you, but you knew he recognized you.

Your eyes quickly shifted to the hands that were in your lap, and you found yourself playing with your ring to avoid focusing on the burning slowly growing in your eyes. Were they really laughing at you? You wanted to say they weren’t, but considering they were all looking at you, the odds really weren’t in your favor. Okay so maybe bumping into him this morning had been embarrassing, but was it really that bad? Or perhaps they were laughing at your humiliating attempt to be nice and saying hello. Or maybe your hair looked like a bird’s nest. Did you have something in your teeth? God why had no one told you you looked bad when you had arrived at dinner. You knew you should have made more of an effort, but practice had been so exhausting that you truly didn’t have the energy. 

You blinked back the tears as you felt someone put their hand on your shoulder. “Hey, Y/n what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Tarquin. You met his blue eyes and gave him the best smile you could muster, despite the turmoil in your head. “I’m just sore, I think I’m gonna go to bed early,” you pushed yourself out of your chair and gave them all a small smile, choosing to ignore the concerned look on everyone’s faces, “Goodnight guys, see you tomorrow,” and walked out of the cafeteria, to go find sanctuary in your room, without a single glance back to your table. 

A single glance would have shown you Azriel’s beet-red face as he stood up from his table to escape his friends mocking him, and would have shown you Azriel heading to your table, as if to talk to you. But you did not look back, and as you lay in bed that night, thinking back to the mysterious athlete from Velaris, you decided that it was okay if he didn’t like you, and it was okay if they had all laughed at your expense. You were at the Olympics and would not let anyone, especially a man, ruin that experience for you.

-~~-~~-

And voilaaaa the first part! Please do tell me what you think and what you thought!

@julesvanslutta i wasn't sure if you wanted me to tag you for a specific character or not, but here you go !

[dayseternal-blog]

Fanfic you ve been reading recently? Love your tastes btw!

:) You sent this months ago, but here are the fics that I've been reading recently, like this August/September:

"The Mission" by Lunawrayth - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. It wasn't that Hinata never expected to work with Naruto, just never on a mission quite like this.

-I check this one for updates so often. at least once a week, but more like multiple times a week.

"thus a silenced memory" by @keroppri - Rated T, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Eight years flown on by and Naruto makes his return to the city where he once fell in love, only for him to leave hollow and broken after she was persuaded to leave him. Plagued by her memory at every corner, a chance meeting changes fates, minds, and hearts. Thus he tries to silence the memories. Inspired and based on Jane Austen's Persuasion.

-ahhh loving the yearning angst of unrequited love (but it's actually requited) in this fic.

"Amaranthine" by @opttagoyeo - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A few drabbles/ideas ranging from fluff, confusing, humor, and angst regarding the most iconic and popular canon couple of Konohagakure, Naruhina.

-just started reading this! Full of cuteness.

"After Office Hours" by Pandora_Imperatrix - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto is lonely after Sakura and Sasuke left the village to travel together, he keeps leaving the office later and later, things start to change after one night when his secretary Hinata and him share a couple of vending machine beers. In this AU Naruto becomes Hokage a lot earlier than in the manga and The Last never happened.

-It's been years since this was updated, and recently Pandora updated and just finished it!!!!!!

"Friends with benefits" by @pastillesch - Rated T, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. "I'm dumping you" --Naruto blinked once. Twice. "But we're not even together". It was more a stress relief than anything romantic, really. A hobby one would say. And now it was time to search for a new hobby. Or at least a new partner for this kind of hobby.

-Another one that I was super excited to see updated again!!!!

"Casual Touches" by Lunawrayth - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. It's the casual touches that do it.

-Since I'm really feeling Luna's style, I checked out this story, too, and it's super cute. Love it.

"Fairy Tale" from "NaruHina Erotica Oneshots" by @makuro767 - Rated E, Fantasy AU, Two-shot. Naruto moved to an old family home to start anew and found an unlikely existence in his backyard...

-I am a total sucker for this type of size difference au. Like, it's just such a weird trope. It's just so weird. I love it. Makuro767 does a wonderful job with it!

"Love Is Not A Cage" by @nightowl27-writer - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. When Naruto comes back to his senses after the battle with Pein, the first thing he remembers are those baffling words she said just before she nearly died for him, and he NEEDS to hear them again. Will the truth set them free? Or are some confessions too much for the soul?

-that recent update killed me. In a good way. but oh man.

"Hinata (Mirror, Mirror)" from "Chicken Ramen for the Pervert's Soul" by @wickermayne - Rated E, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Naruto rolled his eyes at the purchase asking why she needed it and complained about how much room it took up, but Hinata enjoyed modeling different dresses in front of it, loved how it let her see all the many different angles. And that seemed to keep Naruto quiet enough about the mirror.

-🙊🙈🔥

So, I guess it's been months since I worked on this list. Because it's nearing the end of March 2024 now. And up at the top, apparently I was last working on this list in September 2023. And at that time, it had been "months" since the asker sent this. Well, here's the ones I've been reading recently:

"clash of possession - naruhina" by @powerful-niya - Rated E, Yakuza AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. In the heart of the yakuza underworld of Tokyo, the passing of Hiashi, the leader of the Hyūga clan, does more than just break Hinata's heart, but it exposes her to vulnerability. Seizing the opportunity, the ruthless Naruto, Uzumaki clan leader, targets not only the conquest of the Hyūga clan but also wishes to claim Hinata as his most prized possession, no matter the cost.

-It's been awhile since I read an irredeemable Naruto, and Niya's not lying when she calls the characterization ruthless!!

"Prey" by @sessakag - Rated E, Modern/Gangs AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Following a midnight chance encounter with Hinata Hyuuga, a smitten sociopath, Naruto Uzumaki, tries his hand at romance, determined to make her fall in love with him the only way he knows how.

-it's the mystery of Hinata's background that really fuels this piece for me. Icing on the cake is Naruto as a wonderfully sexy and dangerous stranger and the sexual tension between them that is absolutely exquisite.

"Paper Rings" by Its_Levioooosaa - Rated E, College/Soulmates AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. In a world where soulmates are found after a touch and after a brief moment of pain, resulting in a red loop circling the first knuckle of each person's pinky finger. Fating the two people together and leaving it up to them to decide what their relationship will be. Hinata had just stopped at her friends for a piece of pizza, little did she know that she'd be leaving with a soulmate.

-It's a cute premise and I can't wait to see what happens next! I love a good soulmate AU!

"Wanting More Than A Poolside View" by @bunny-hoodlum - Rated E, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Just a Sukumizu fetish scenario where Hinata is the target of a panty thief and recruits Naruto to investigate himself.

-I've been loving all of Bunny's updates this year, but I'm really hoping for an update on this one....or Narutoland haha, but I dunno what it is about High School NaruHina and their immaturity, it's just so fun!

Kay, that's all. If I don't post this now, I never will lol.

[royjamierot]

hi! if it’s not much bother, i somewhat recently just started reading some royjamie fics, but i wanted to ask if you had any must-read fic recs, or even any authors you enjoy for the pairing? i don’t mind if they’re long or short, royjamie only or rjk as well

thanks for your time!

YESSS IT'S NOT A BOTHER AT ALL I LOVE GIVING FIC RECS!! i love this thank you this a great chance for me to freak out about my favorite fics. in no particular order, here! I'll do my best to write a brief description and also put the ratings

in the next one, will you find me by nebuloussubject

this is a mature fic where jamie wakes up to an alternate universe where roy is 22 and a new transfer to richmond. it talks a lot about roy's vulnerability and also jamie's as well and it makes me sooo emotional i love it so much

it’s (not) only make believe by screaming_crying_perfect_storm

mature fic and FAKE DATING AU!!! it's sooo good it's unfinished rn but every new update makes me so insane it's literally soo good. it has georgie and simon in it and mutual pining it's amazing. i highly recommend everything from this author.

trip of my life by floweredhalo

unrated but not explicit fic about roy accidentally doing mushrooms and jamie taking care of him. it's such a sweet fic it lives in my mind.

that's what i want (collection) by BelmotteTower and Scoatney Hall

this is royjamiekeeley! i was so engaged in this collection i read most of it in a day i highly recommend it. it's so sweet and i love the relationships between the three of them.

open hand or closed fist would be fine by Tallfroggie20

royjamie again. mature also. this one is about roy and jamie being touch starved and filling that void in each other and also growing since the season one finale. I couldn't put this one down. one of my fave oneshots.

Be Furious by Emmybazy

this is an explicit younger roy/older jamie fic because this idea makes me insane. i love roy character studies and fics that make him younger tend to do this veryyyy well i love this fic. jamie and roy wear sweaters in this one which i love imagining.

love, that loosener of limbs by literatus

this is explicit basically just royjamie sex in the woods and also references to jane austen. i love this one im so normal about it.

Hospital Ball (Jamie Tartt's Adventures in Matchmaking) by dannyPURO

explicit fic :) i love this one it's mostly royjamie and some royjamiekeeley but it's so funny and jamie in this always makes me laugh. jamie and roy sleep together a ton and jamie thinks it's because roy is sad over keeley and roy thinks they're dating. shenanigans ensue.

Two Things Can Be True by cheerfuldisdain

this is a teen royjamiekeeley fic where roy processes his feelings about the two of them and also goes to therapy! also not finished yet but it is sooo good.

a muppet, dying of the incurable condition of being a little bitch by PeonyPages161

rated teen royjamie fic where roy calls jamie drunk a bunch of times when he's sad and they grow from that!! it's so good i love the way it's developing. also unfinished so far.

and i think that's a good list of my favorites? i definitely recommend all of these i hope you enjoy! if you are looking for specific recommendations for a specific tag or general vibe id be happy to give those as well!

[lullabyes22-blog]

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Mel x Silco One-Shot

Who's in the mood for a Jane Austen-esque Melco oneshot - complete with newlywed shenanigans, social commentary, and sailing the blue seas?

Also smut.

Lots of smut.

>D

[callsign-bunnie]

Here are some previews from stuff I've been working on just so you guys know that content is coming

Old Habits Die Hard - Ghost focused, SoapGhost, Oneshot Ghost is discharged from the SAS after a pretty severe suicide attempt. Now he's forced to live life as a civilian which is... pretty fucking boring. Hence why he jumps at the opportunity to beat the shit out of two punks who come in the rob the store. However, when it turns out they're part of an actual gang who has decided he needs to die... well, things get a hell of a lot less boring. Oh yeah, and he needs to talk to Soap, apparently.

Already Dead - Inspired by IZombie, Rodolfo focused, Alerudy, fic Set after the events of the Original Why Can't I Be More? It's been five years, and Alejandro and Rodolfo are now engaged. Every time Rodolfo looks at his ring, he can't help smiling. Then, he gets attacked, and he's injected with some kind of drug and wakes up in a body bag. This drug changes him. He's hungry, he's so incredibly hungry, and the only thing that seems to satisfy him is flesh. A year later, he's adjusted, but he's left Alejandro. No one but Valeria can know what happened to him. Can know what he is.

Matters Of Love - Inspired by Jane Austen, Rodolfo Gaz and Roach focused, Alerudy, Gazalex, Ghostroachsoap, omegaverse Rodolfo, Gaz, and Roach are all three young omegas ready to marry. Well, Rodolfo and Gaz are. Roach has... some apprehension of the idea. At the very least, Gaz is more than ready to marry. Rodolfo has yet to find an alpha he thinks deserves him. Roach has his eyes on a maid, though times mean he could end up in a lot of trouble if they're found out. Enter Alex, Alejandro, and Ghost, three very eligible bachelors. It seems the perfect pairs, and trio, has been set up but... love has... other ideas.

[starrycosme]

Entre Sobras y Sobras, me Faltas

A Good Omens oneshot

(Warning: This is pure angst, read at your own risk)

Nos faltó una noche de franela

De pijama feo y calcetín por fuera

Of course his pajamas were tartan. Old fashioned, comfortably worn things, and soft looks on his sky blue eyes. Softer than his tartan blanket on his tartan couch. Softer than locks of hair like clowds in a sunny day. Softer than Crowley's voice could ever hope to be, though it would never stop trying its best.

"I didn't take you for a sleeper, angel."

"Well, I do indulge in sleep from time to time... I'm afraid you managed to convince me in the end."

Oh, but that laugh, that laugh was softer still. It melted when its silky touch grazed Crowley's face, seemed to know how to aim to his exposed eyes. How to use them to filter down to his chest and fill in the gaps.

"I'm glad I did."

And it was inescapable, that softness that came with the darkness of the night and settled where the wine glasses were missing. It was all worth it though, to see that smile.

Oh, how he wishes they hadn't always drank the softness away.

Nos faltó una mentira entera

Una falsa espera y una tarde fea

"Tell me you said no."

"I did." And that softer than life smile was back. "To the world, wasn't it? Our world. It was always us, Crowley. My dear."

And this time, hope and gratefulness took the place of desperation. Crowley didn't grab, he didn't pull, he just fell. He fell onto Aziraphale, and his angel was there, also falling into their embrace. Their beating hearts, the warmth of their bodies, it was all theirs. As theirs as wine, and books, and the Bentley.

"Angel."

"Sh... It's okay."

And the words echoed on the gaps in his chest as he waited, and Aziraphale turned around and left him. No soft looks, or smiles, or laughter to hold him together anymore. Only memories floating around and leaving him to drown.

So drown he did.

His imagination was gentler than reality. It tended to bend and twist things together.

Nos faltó una sabana de Ikea

Un viaje de cartón, un despertar de seda.

Aziraphale's forearms were bare, his strong arms carried boxes, heavy with both of their lifes on Earth. Soft hairs and unyielding muscles, a physical form to hide his light. Never enough, tough. Never enough. When their eyes met, that light seemed to shine through.

"You could help me, you know?" Aziraphale joked.

"Sure thing, angel."

A snap would have been enough, but just like they both enjoyed a walk through the park, a story read aloud or a live concert, it was all about enjoying the process. They settled in.

"You can't leave this bookshop."

The cottage's walls are covered in bookshelves. They no longer live in London. They don't need to, don't care about having left. Home had always been where the other was, after all.

Crowley was woken up by the Bentley's radio. Don't care about the date. Don't listen, don't listen, don't listen. He imagined waking up to soft sheets instead of leather seats, soft touches and warmth. Company, instead of this utter, swallowing loneliness. A loneliness that fed the gaps, let them grow and spread in an uncontrollable web of fragile, empty voids, like cracks spreading through a carelessly dropped teapot.

The softest touch would break him, now. There was no love to knit the cracks together. Not from above. Not from below. Not from Her. Not from his angel.

Un día remolón y una caricia vieja

Un vámonos pa' allá y un sea donde sea

Soft, careful fingers caressed locks of hair cascading down a lap. A soft sigh, the rustle of a page being turned, the joyful songs of birds filtering through an open window. Then, a hand reaching out, brushing fingers that hold an old, loved copy of a Jane Austen novel.

"Little demonic miracle of my own." He remembers saying.

And it's a miracle in and of itself that he's allowed to touch, to caress, to hold. He's never forgotten that particular touch, though. He could never. Not when it was the first time his angel looked at him like he understood. Like he cared to reach out, too. Oh, but how caring scared him.

"You go too fast for me Crowley."

"We're on opposite sides!"

"I forgive you."

They all blend together. Now, Crowley is scared too. The walls of the cottage dissolve and leave behind a familiar steering wheel and a sad song on the radio.

"We could go off together."

"Oh, my darling, we already have."

Aziraphale smiles, and it's blinding. His voice flickers and goes out. The illusion of a happy future flickers with him.

Crowley drives off.

The title and verses used throughout this oneshot are from an Antonio Orozco song with the same title.

I've had this thing in my notes app for a while, and now I'm back in the fandom, I figured I could post it. This is just me still coping with season 2. It was meant to be kind of fluffy, but it came out like this.

[evilwickedme]

You seemed sad that nobody's asked for jayroy fic recs. I want jayroy fics! I am a simple creecher with simple needs.

God what a mood tho. ngl I'm obsessed with these two

I've already recommended some of my favs in previous posts! here and here for your enjoyment

anyway here we go

ace-spectrum!Jason

one of my favorite hc and with a lot of support from the text imho; I have more of these these are just my favs

Kiss Me, Kill Me, Take Me Home - 5+1 times somebody kissed Jason, ace!Jason

Jane Austen Never Said Anything About Speed Dating - this one's pretty long. an au where Jason never died and is dealing with trauma from an abusive ex. again, outright ace!Jason and his ex absolutely raped him, so dark subject matter but it's still so good. Jason's brothers try to get him back in the game after the breakup and he ends up running into Roy at speed dating; they decide to fake date to get both their families off their backs. some nice Lian stuff here too.

Between These Pages (Is a Wonderful Place To Be) - ace!Jason gets extremely injured and Roy reads to him, cute little oneshot

(can you feel) the fire burning through your veins - nothing wrong with a little bit of self promo, right? this is demi!gay!Jason figuring his identity out and navigating his changing relationship with Roy. it takes place in a slightly alternate timeline where he's been to therapy for a couple of years and he never slept with Talia so it's his first time with pretty much everything. there actually is smut but it's Jason's first time :D

there is sex in this

I’ve Got the Feeling You’re the Right Thing After All - more poisonivory??? yes please!!! Roy's has had feelings for Dick since their teen titans days, but still ends up in a fwb with Jason when he's asked to help Jason run the iceberg lounge... somewhat plotty, smut in basically every chapter, so fucking good

Let me shipwreck in your thighs - we all have a thing for Jason's thighs, lbr

Arrows and Bullets - a two fic series. injured Jason falls into Roy's apartment and stays there until he heals. once again, some quality Lian stuff here. the sequel fic has some minor Jason-comes-back-home and surrounds christmas.

Boys Don't Cry - trans!Jason. I think this does have a minor plot?? I can't remember it's basically just fifty thousand words of marathon sex over the course of like at least a week

there's a middle ground between ace and outright smut actually

Some Kind of Disaster - this is actually one of my favorites and I've reread the whole thing more than once even though it's a mildly long series (although tbf I've reread longer). instead of outright dying at sanctuary Roy is just grievously injured and Jason runs to his side the moment he hears and refuses to leave. there's a lot of angst. one of the fics is smutty; halfway through the series Roy discovers Lian exists and that's where the plot really kicks in. so good

The Midnight Snow - Robin!Jason is in a time loop and Roy gets trapped in there with him

Flowers Are My Love Language - Jason keeps trying to get Roy to date him using flowers, and Roy simply refuses to get the message

Around Red Hood's Barn - Neighbors au where Roy and Jason are still partners as vigilantes, Roy just doesn't know Red Hood's identity, and Roy CANNOT STAND his new neighbor Jason. I love me some good identity shenanigans in a superhero fic

Magnet Tar Pit Trap - I already linked one cowboy au in the first fic rec (linked above), why not one more

other

remember how canonically Roy died in Heroes in Crisis? ow. I actually already rec'd my favorite one of these in the first Jason fic rec (linked! above!) so check that one out too

It is only, and all about Roy - I actually really regretted not putting this in the original fic rec (again, linked above). Jason shows up in Star City and ends up collaborating with Oliver. JayRoy is only implied but either way Jason is clearly deeply grieving Roy's death and so is Ollie

Please, come back - JayRoy were together before sanctuary and Jason grieves his death deeply. happy ending tho!

anyway yeah that's some good fics believe me when I say I could've rec'd twice as many honestly. unfortunately I had to stop somewhere so that's it for now

[voxofthevoid]

Hi Vox, what books do you like to read? Genres etc, physical or e-books? Also do you have any recommendations on books to read? I'm dying to get into new books but I have no idea where to start looking.

(by books I meant outside of fanfic.)

PS, will you ever continue your doubledong dickfest (the train age swap one) fic again? I'm so down bad for teenage Satoru getting dicked down haha.

Recently, I've mostly been reading online even when I'm not reading fanfic—stuff like the SCP stories, r/nosleep authors and series, and original fiction on Ao3 and Fictionpress. Been hearing good things about Royal Road too, though the popular genres there may not be to my taste.

Anyway, when it comes to published books, I prefer fantasy or SF. Or both! And I'd rather have physical books than digital ones.

As for recs, the ones from my recent reads are—

The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir. It's a blend of SF and fantasy. It has four parts, and three are currently out. We're waiting with bated breath for the final one.

How to Survive Camping series by Bonnie Quinn. It's a complete four-part series of supernatural mystery and horror that started out on r/nosleep but has been published as books.

My last proper reading spree was over five years back, so I have no idea how I'll feel about these books if I were to read them now:

Whyborne & Griffin series by Jordan L. Hawk

Cut & Run series by Urban and Roux

Literally everything by Megan Derr. Her collection was impressive even circa 2016, and I'm sure it's grown now.

A few classics™, if you swing that way:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Candide by Voltaire

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller

I have an extensive to-read list too, and I can't exactly recommend anything from that, but here are the ones I'm looking forward to the most:

The Murderbot Diaries series by Martha Wells

Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant

A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine

Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie

Ahh, double-dong dickfest, my beloved! That one suffered from having my attention diverted at just the wrong moment (thank you, chapter 236). Other, shinier ideas keep pulling me to them. Plus, what I currently have is some 14k that could easily stand as its own fic; the remaining outline is an escalating pornfest, and it's got a lot of fun bits I'd like to tackle, but if I don't start, what I've written would make a coherent oneshot.

I can promise a lot of teenage Satoru getting dicked down though. That, I keep going back to faithfully 😂

Thanks for asking this! It was fun to answer.

[suseagull04]

Thanks to the lovely @firenati0n @zwiazdziarka @wordsofhoneydew @hgejfmw-hgejhsf and @heybuddy-drabbles for the tags!

I've shared a lot of words today for the WIP Tag Game, so I'm going to post them all here so everyone who wants to can see them... And there may or may not be a high school AU snippet at the end!

Scrabble/Bananagrams AU:

He can't believe this.

He had thought he was the best at Scrabble and Bananagrams. Even factoring out the fact that he’s fluent in two languages, he usually manages to defeat any opponent he's up against.

But that was before he met the infuriating Henry Fox.

He's a friend of June's that she's invited along with a bunch of her other college friends for game night, and he's… well, he doesn't think Henry is used to losing, Alex will put it that way.

Alex has been playing this game for ages, though. He will win, no matter what it takes.

Bookstore oneshot:

“Remember, H, we only have an hour before we need to leave for the inauguration.”

“Of course, of course,” Henry dismissed Alex's worries with a wave of his hand. “I just want to get the new collector's edition of Jane Austen’s works. It has all of her writing, Alex. All of it in one place! Can you imagine anything better?”

Yeah, he could, actually: the way Henry looked when he was talking about this stuff was better than any book Alex could think of. His eyes were shining, his smile nothing short of brilliant. Alex would bring Henry into a bookstore every day of the week if it meant he would smile like that.

Baker Alex, writer Henry:

There's nothing quite like finding the perfect place to write, Henry mused.

He had been unable to focus on his work that morning, too distracted by… well, honestly, everything. He loved his beagle, David, but he had constantly wanted attention, which Henry was only too happy to give him, of course. Plus, there were dishes to be done, vacuuming to do… Henry could make all the excuses in the world not to write, but the fact remained that he wasn't writing as he should be.

So he had packed up his laptop and googled cafes in the area, looking for a good place to get some writing done. 

High school AU:

At last, her most promising source of distraction that day showed up. Alex brought over a guy who was slightly taller than him and said, “Henry, this is my sister, June.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Henry greeted her, sticking out his hand. She shook it, entranced by his accent from the moment he spoke. Not that that meant that a certain Jewish friend of hers was driven from her mind, though. “This seems to be a lovely party. I especially like the decorations. Jane Austen is my favorite author, you know.”

At his words, June's brain went into overdrive. She had never thought she'd meet a guy who liked Jane Austen. “Mine too! She's just incredible. No one writes like that anymore.”

“True, and it's such a shame. The ability to get that descriptive with prose, the complexity of the plot and how she immediately gets you immersed in the plot with such eloquent dialog… she's unmatched, that's for sure.” June grinned. She had never thought meeting a prince would be so fun, that a boy the same age as her brother would want to talk about Jane Austen, let alone actually like her work. There were certainly no guys like that in the States. 

I'm pretty late to the game, but tagging @anincompletelist @14carrotghoul @inexplicablymine @happiness-of-the-pursuit @raysletters @rockyroadkylers and @read-and-write- in case they have anything they want to share- and open tag for you if you want to play too! If you take the open tag, please tag me, I'm always eager for more fic snippets!

[underthetree845]

could i get a story (or maybe some headcannons) about armin meeting the reader at a masquerade ball and instantly falling in love 👀

Saturn! Hello lovely <33

First of all I just want to say thank you for requesting this?? It was so much fun to write! (´♡‿♡`) I hope this didn’t take too long, I think you put in this request about a week ago. I ended up making it longer than initially planned, I hope this is at least close to what you had in mind!

-

Sense and Sensibility

Armin/Reader (Oneshot)

Cws: masquerade ball, AFAB reader, fem reader (you wear a ballgown), reader can make literary references/seems to enjoy books, snk spoilers, post ending, chief ambassador of the allied nations armin, love at first sight, ballroom dancing, soulmates if you squint, open-ended ending 

About 3.8k words

Summary: Armin Arlert, Chief of The Allied Nations, attends a masquerade ball with the rest of the crew and meets someone who finds a place in his heart faster than he ever thought possible. A/n: For context, the masquerade was set up in Marley to be attended by ambassadors and generals from many different countries so they could mingle without any set of prejudices; think the crowd that showed up for Willy Tybur’s speech. Also, for those who don’t know, the title is based on a novel written by Jane Austen and published in 1811 (meaning that, based on their technology, it likely would have actually existed in the time period that aot takes place in!).

Blue eyes lost themselves more with each printed word as the crisp smell of paper drifted into his nose. It had always been an amicable scent. Delicate fingers swiped at the pages, a spine rested comfortably in his palm. Wisps of blonde hair hung over his forehead which he tucked back every so often in an effort to make them hold the style he had brushed them back into earlier.

“What kind of man reads in a corner at a party like this?” a familar voice quipped, his polished shoes coming to a halt on the pattern of the marble floor. Armin was quick to snap his book shut and slip it back into the pocket on the inside of his jacket. He straightened himself from the wall.

“I just don’t see the point,” Armin said with disconsolance and Jean quirked an eyebrow, “I’d much rather meet these people face to face. Don’t get me wrong, this party is very nice, but we’re not even able to talk about any of the things we really should be behind all these masks.” 

“No one talks much about war crimes and peace treaties at these sorts of events, Armin. Social functions like this are just a part of their society,” the taller man replied, studying his drink for a moment before tipping it at his lips, “We have to engrain ourselves.” 

“And as soon as we take off these masks? How will they see us when they know who we are? When they know what we are?” Armin asked, cocking his head to the side to lock eyes with Jean as he let out a sigh. “You need a drink, my friend,” Jean decided, downing the rest of whatever he had been poured and scanning the room for anyone nearby holding a tray. 

Jean wandered off in search of more drinks, but Armin didn’t wait for him, instead deciding that he was desperately in need of a quieter place to engage with his book. 

Most everyone Armin knew seemed to be doing just fine. Historia really butterflied in this type of setting into her role as Queen. Just like during her days in the Survey Corps, people seemed drawn to her warmth like moths to a flame. Armin hadn’t caught a glimpse of her the entire night in a moment when she hadn’t been chatting with at least several ambassadors. 

Jean seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit, not that Armin expected any less. Even when they were both fifteen, Jean’s motivation for enlisting as a cadet had been to climb the ranks and eventually live a finer life with the Military Police in the interior. Funny what a simple change of perspective can do to a person.

A shimmery flash of red caught the corner of Armin’s eye and he glanced to the side. The crimson dress suited Mikasa well, he thought. It almost matched the color of the scarf she used to wear- only now her collarbone was bare except for the weight of a pretty pearl necklace resting comfortably and complimenting her white gloves. She used them to adjust her mask every now and again, Armin could tell she felt slightly uneasy with the limited vision that came with the sturdy garment. 

He couldn’t honestly say he was a huge fan either. The mask he wore was pure white; lace, beads, and feathers adorning the fabric. It mostly stood out amongst the rest of his outfit. The tie he wore was black and his suit a deep navy. Jean had even insisted that he buy a cologne to wear to the ball, saying that “If they won’t be able to see your face, you have to make good impressions in other ways.” The blonde tried out a few different scents on the small slips of paper next to each bottle, eventually settling on one that somehow reminded him of the ocean. 

The sounds of the party died down and Armin let out a sigh, breathing in the tranquility of the night air and resting his elbows on the cool stone railing of the balcony. He slid the hardcover out of his pocket and flipped it open for a moment before lowering it and looking out. Armin looked out into the deepness. Down onto the thicket of trees, the flickering of the town’s lights beyond that, and just a little bit further, the rolling waves of the sea. When he tried, he seemed to be able to will the sound of the tide louder in his ears. It reflected the moon like a kind of dream. It was a dream; his dream. It almost felt wrong to Armin to be looking from the other side. For so long he dreamt of being a part of what laid on the other side of that big salt lake. What would he have thought if- 

“Sense and Sensibility?” 

The book fumbled in Armin’s hands, he almost dropped it off the ledge as he whipped his body to the side to see who had approached him. He was about to answer their question when the words died on his tongue. 

He tried so hard not to gape, but found his efforts fruitless. 

The white folds of fabric hung to the floor and swayed gently in the breeze. Pearls and embroideries of gold dripped off the dress around her collarbone, swirling up into lace sleeves. They were tied with white ribbons and went down to her elbows, the same ribbon that had been used to make a bow in her soft-looking hair. Glittering trinkets of metal and jewels hung around her neck and wrists. She wore a teardrop shaped pair of pearl earrings embedded in gold. Her mask was a royal shade of blue, adorned with gold thread and beads, and Damn, Armin thought, those eyes. 

It took a considerable amount of time for Armin to realize that he was supposed to generate a reply, and by then your expression had morphed into one of polite confusion. 

“Yes! Sorry, please forgive me, yes, you are correct,” Armin said in one breath, his hand involuntarily coming up to scratch the back of his undercut, “That is the title of the book I am reading.” 

Your expression seemed to soften a bit, the corners of your eyes crinkling at his endearing display. Armin felt a boyish sense of shyness take over his body. 

“It’s a good book,” you conversed, and a grin was quick to spread across his face. So rarely did he meet someone who held a knack or fascination for literature quite like his own.

“You’ve read it, then?” he inquired, awkwardly aiming to shove the hardcover back in his jacket pocket while not taking his eyes off of the way you seemed to glow in the moonlight. 

“When I was thirteen,” you nodded affirmatively, tucking a loose bit of hair behind your ear in a way that made Armin weak in the knees. 

There was another pause.

“So, what are you doing out here?” the blonde asked, straightening his posture from the railing, “Shouldn’t you be inside enjoying the party?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” the corners of your lips quirked up, and Armin felt his cheeks go hot. Hypocrite. 

“Right, sorry, I just-” he choked out, a nervous chuckle falling from his mouth.

“No no, I should apologize,” you giggled, folding your hands neatly in front of your skirt, “To answer your question, I just kind of wanted a break from all those people.” 

“Ah…” Armin realized, “Sorry then, you must have been displeased to find someone already here. I can leave, if you want.” 

He took a half step away and was about to take another when you came a little closer to stop him. 

“It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;—it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others,” you quoted, the rustle of the trees behind you, the breeze cool on Armin’s skin. The air stilled for a moment. You bore your gaze into his until his blue eyes lit up. 

“...Was that from- was that Jane Austen?” Armin blinked once, and you brought your hands together with a clap. “Yes, yes it was! No one has ever gotten that before!” you beamed at him, and Armin could’ve sworn the stars shined just a little bit brighter. 

He barely registered as you turned your head when someone beckoned you inside. His eyes were glued to you as you waved at him. They lingered on your form as you disappeared inside, and once you were gone, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. Armin wobbled slightly and leaned backwards against the railing, one hand over his chest and the other for support gripping onto the stone. The party continued on inside but the sounds were drowned out by the rapid thumping of Armin’s own heartbeat in his ears.

-

He barely registered the sideways glances he got as he wandered inside. He searched- for you? For Jean, or Mikasa? For an exit? The sound of his footsteps sped up. For anyone? Someone? For an answer to the flurry of questions running through his mind?

“Ah-!” Armin let out a squawk as he came into contact with something, halting his walk and train of thought. Armin stumbled slightly and looked forward to meet a pair of comforting brown eyes looking back into his with slight disquiet. “Please excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,” Onyankopon said politely, placing his hand on Armin’s shoulder, “I think this young man and I are due for a chat.” 

“Here son, drink this,” the man said gently, offering over a glass of something clear and icy. Armin looked up at him suspiciously. “Don’t worry, it’s just water.” 

Armin accepted the glass with a sigh, finally feeling his head clear up as the cool liquid ran down his throat. Flashes of your two minute encounter played over and over again in his mind.

“Thank you,” Armin let out a bated breath. 

“Is something troubling you? You looked like a startled fawn when you ran into me,” Onyankopon questioned, taking the cup from Armin’s hand when he finished, setting it on top of the nearest white-clothed table. 

“I… don’t really know the answer myself,” the blonde replied. He was shifting in his spot, repeatedly adjusting the lapels of his suit. In contrast to the boy's usual attentive attitude in conversation, his eyes continually shifted to linger on the crowd.

“Well it seems to me like something’s happened,” Onyankopon replied, “If you tell me what it is, maybe I can be of help.” 

Armin seemed to contemplate for a moment, deciding how to word his thoughts. 

“Have you ever felt… a really strong connection to someone?” he asked hesitantly. 

“Depends on how you mean,” Onyankopon touched his chin in thought, “but I suppose so, yes.” 

“But…” Armin sighed, “so strong that you just met them and after having a two minute conversation you can’t stop thinking about them and you don’t think you’ll be able to go on without talking to them at least one more time?” 

How could Armin even begin to explain his situation? He should’ve organized his thoughts before confiding in someone else about it. How could he even be sure himself what the feeling in the pit of his stomach is, or why his eyes kept darting to every white dress he catches out of the corner of his eye. He found it equally thrilling and terrifying.  

“Armin, are you in love?” Onyankopon's lips quirked, and Armin could tell he was trying not to smile by the way his eyes sparkled behind his golden mask. 

“In love?” Armin dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand, “How could anyone fall in love just like that? I don’t even know her name.” He ignored the way his heart jumped at the thought. 

"So there is a her?" Onyankopon raised an eyebrow. Armin flushed slightly.

“Love at first sight doesn’t work like most people seem to think,” the older man explained gently, “Love is a feeling built on trust, which takes time to build up. I think love at first sight refers to when you meet someone for the first time, and you just feel comfortable around them in a way you can’t explain. They look into your eyes and you can see each other’s souls. You know it would work, there isn’t a doubt in your mind. You get just a little taste of that deep trust, and it’s enough to make you fall a little in love.” 

“What’s a soul?” Armin's head tilted.

Onyankopon let out a sigh. 

“I understand what you’re trying to say, I just…” Armin trailed off, earning Onyankopon’s hand on his shoulder. “I think the best thing you can do right now is find them and try to talk to them again. If you feel that same spark, don’t let it slip away,” the man smiled warmly and Armin nodded in response. Onyankopon patted him on the back before turning away to return to his previous conversation. 

Armin did search for you, in fact he was prepared to search the entire night if need be. Much to his dismay, the next face he recognized was not yours. Not that he technically knew was it looked like, but Armin was sure he'd be able to recognize it anyway. Jean approached him with a grin tugging on his lips and a certain glimmer in his eye. 

“Armin!” Jean waved, “I couldn’t find you after I went to grab us some drinks, but they’re starting something we’ve got to be involved in.” He slung his arm around Armin’s shoulders, and in one swift motion, began leading him across the crystalline ballroom. 

“Involved in? What do you mean? Like territory negotiations?” Armin perked up, barely keeping his eyes ahead. 

“Even better,” Jean replied. 

Armin tilted his head. “A waltz.” 

Armin had never been more grateful for his habit of picking up random bits of information in his life. Karma could be sweet.

A few weeks back, he just so happened to pick up a book on cultural dances from around the world from a library in Marley. A few weeks back, Historia’s advisors realized that their Queen lacked the ability to twirl properly on the marble floors of the palace. A few weeks back, Armin just so happened to conveniently know a thing or two about ballroom dancing. The rest of the crew just so happened to decide that they needed to know too, and Onyankopon just so happened to be adept in the art. For some reason Armin didn’t find himself surprised by the fact. 

So Armin danced; his touches were feather light on his partner’s waist and back, he cradled their hand 'las if it’s made of the most fragile glass,' as Onyankopon instructed. The chords of the piano hopped around the room. The sound of the violin led every masked face together with a spool of invisible thread. The melody of the flute danced under their feet, allowing them to sway and twirl and float in an almost mindless tradition. 

To think that two weeks ago he could barely step his left foot over his right. 

The whole dance seemed like some kind of performance- dresses and suits weaving between each other, a sweet song floating above their heads. They twirled, smiled, switched partners, and started the same steps all over again. 

Armin was so focused that he almost missed the familiarity of the white silk underneath his fingertips. He almost missed the tinkling of the metal around your neck as you spun into him. He almost missed the familiar hue of the ocean-colored mask that laid around your eyes. Almost, but he would never miss how it felt when you dropped your gaze on him. He could practically feel it under his skin. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” a smile curved onto your lips, which Armin matched. You spun out, then in, he led you by the hand. 

“I was actually looking for you,” he admitted with a bashful grin, mentally shaking off the possibility of having caught the hint of a flush on your cheeks. 

“Really?” your gaze warmed at this. 

“Although I’d rather do it without having to hide…” he added with a mumble. You stepped back, he lifted his arm, you twirled, he pulled you back in. 

“I know what you mean,” you replied, your hand gripping onto his shoulder, “Having important figures get to know each other with no prejudices is a good idea, but I don’t see much of a point if we aren’t allowed to take off our masks at the end.” 

“You get it,” Armin exhaled. A small grin played on your lips. 

“Is that why you were hiding on the balcony?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow as he led you in a twirl. 

“I wasn’t hiding… just looking for a more secluded place to read,” he replied with a soft smile. 

Armin stepped back, you both pivoted outwards and away from each other before meeting in perfect coalition, he held your hand.

“Aw, I thought I’d found someone to hide with,” you pouted playfully. Armin admired the way the light shone on your skin as you both spun around. 

He replied with a bashful smile, you seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking up. 

“I was hoping that I’d get the chance to dance with you though,” your grip on his shoulder tightened a little as you spoke. 

“...Are you being serious?” he murmured.

“Completely." Armin felt a flutter in his chest. 

“But why?” the blonde continued, twirling you both inwards and preparing to loosen his grip, “There are so many more interesting people here.” You gave him a look. “I mean,” he said with a half hearted chuckle, “What kind of man reads in a corner at a party like this?”  He looked back up and the two of you locked eyes. “My kind of man,” you replied with a smile. 

His heart squeezed so hard it was almost painful.

In the next moment, you spun out of his grasp; he turned and took someone else into his. The cadence carried him along, but his mind was clouded, desperately trying to decipher your intentions, and consider that Onyankopon may have been onto something.

-

“I’m honestly impressed, Armin. You’re usually so sensible. I mean you haven’t even known this woman for a full hour yet!” Jean crossed his arms with a chuckle; the blonde remained unfazed.

“Jean, you weren’t there. You didn’t see her or hear her voice. I just…” Armin placed a hand over his chest with a far-off sigh. “Wow.” 

“I think I’d like to meet her,” Mikasa replied, skepticism bleeding into her tone. 

“So how are you planning on finding her again?” Jean inquired, adjusting the silver watch on his wrist before looking over at his friend again. “You’re at least going to try and get a name, right?” 

“I… don’t really have a plan,” Armin’s face twisted, “But I know what she looks like, so I should be able to find her again.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Jean grinned, “How hard can it be?” 

Apparently, much harder than he expected, as Armin soon discovered.

The first thing he did was inspect the perimeter of the ballroom. Armin traced the tapestries that hung from far above his head and admired the colorful glass windows that made up the dome of the ceiling. 

He also peeked out every door through which one could access the wide stone balcony that wrapped around the whole building. There were specially-built street lamps on the posts and matching lanterns that jutted out from the walls of the palace. The warm illumination made it a good spot for reading. 

Armin politely turned down offers to dance as he made his way across the main part of the floor underneath the stunning crystal chandeliers. 

He wondered how long it took to build up a place like this. Every available surface seemed to have been etched with some intricate pattern or dusted with gold. Additionally, he hadn’t run into a single speck of dust the entire night, making him wonder about the back-breaking labor that the servants must have put in to make this place shine the way it did. 

He peeked into the coat closet, drifted around the tables that lined the perimeter where everyone sat when they wanted to eat, then did it all over again. 

“Armin, we’ve got to go. We couldn’t afford to have a carriage waiting for us the entire night, remember?” Mikasa placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder and nodded her head towards the rather grand entryway to the ballroom. There were cream-colored pillars on either side, a glass window of a sun sitting comfortably on top. 

“That’s only because of the extra tax on the Eldians…” Armin mumbled, taking one last glance at the ballroom before the carved wooden doors shut behind him. 

He inhaled deeply when he stepped outside, not finding it nearly as satisfying as the time before. He descended the marble steps to find the others already waiting on the ground. The chatter and music of the ball were still audible. A certain glow bathed that room and drowned them all while they were in it, now contrasting so greatly with the stillness of the night and the stars twinkling gently above their heads. 

“Where’s Historia?” Armin asked, looking around to find no sign of the woman anywhere. 

Almost as if on cue, an unmistakable voice chimed from behind him. 

“Armin! Sorry, I’m right here! I was just chatting with my acquaintance and she’s leaving too so we decided to walk out together,” Historia smiled politely as she approached, arm interlocked with another figure who trailed slightly behind her. She wore a stunning white dress. 

Armin knew who he’d see before he turned around; he knew the moment he felt your eyes on the back of his head. He felt your gaze in his soul.

You seemed just as pleased, Armin didn’t miss the way your eyes lit up when his blue ones locked with yours. He wondered if doing so would ever stop taking his breath away. 

“So your name is Armin, then?” you said sweetly, Historia drifted away to whisper about something with Mikasa. Armin did his best to suppress the way his heart thrummed when his name rolled so perfectly off his tongue. 

“Yeah, it is,” his hand subconciously came up to scratch the back of his undercut, “Armin Arlert. May I have the pleasure of knowing yours?”

“Y/n L/n,” you grinned and did a little curtsey, “and the pleasure is all mine.” 

Blue eyes trailed along with your form after the goodbyes as you drifted away to your own carriage. He lost himself more with each passing moment, his fingers fiddling lithely with the lapel of his suit. Onyankopon gave Armin a pat on the back and he sighed. They shared a knowing smile before heading off to their separate carriages. 

Yeah… in love… Armin thought, not being able to help the smile that tugged up on his lips, Just like that? Not a chance...

A/n: Not Armin falling in love after one book reference (╥ ω ╥) Anyway, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

(Masterlist)

[vilandel]

Black Clover Modern AU

Excerpts

Just two little wips I did, because I couldn't get them out of my mind. No matter if I do just a series of oneshots or a multi-chapter story as well, I'm sure that I will find a place for this parts 🥰

Wip Excerpt I He run, hoping to stop his mother to go after HIM. The marriage was broken, it was so clear after today's fight. But Nozel knew his mother hoped for a real happy family still. He couldn't blame her for that, but they could be a happy family without HIM.

Nozel was out of breath when he finally reached the road. Why was the villa of his family on a hill again? Who cared about that, he needed to catch his mother!

Acier was there, on the road. The green light just turned red.

Then, there was the car.

Then a panic.

His mother fell.

Then it was blurry. And Nozel screamed, but no one heard him. There was no sound coming out of his mouth...

Well, that escalated... I swear, Acier won't be dead in my Modern AU! But it is still a cruel alternative 😭

Wip Excerpt II Vanessa sighed dramatically as she fell back on her bed, holding her two current favorite books in front of her as if they were some most important evidence during a trial.

"I can't help it, Dotty! Jane Austen and N. A. Steel have put the level of being a wonderful man onto such a high level that I automatically have too much expectations for any potential boyfriend! But the only thing I get at best are jerks, not Darcys, colonel Brandons or Rosecliffs!"

Dorothy giggled, which could either mean that she was amused or kinda frustrated. "You do have a romantic soul, Nessa."

"Yeah, maybe that's the reason why I can't get a proper boyfriend. But I don't want to date a macho anymore! Why are gentlemen so out of fashion today? Maybe I was born in the wrong time period."

"Aren't you a bit overdramatic?"

"Maybe? I don't know. I knew I shouldn't have started to drink less wine."

It didn't sound like an easygoing joke and Vanessa knew that this wasn't normal for her.

Vanessa is going through a frustrated romantic phase, if this is a thing 😅 Also, don't forget N. A. Steel, just in case...

[harryspurpleloofah]

Harry Styles college oneshot

Summary: Harry always has his nose buried in a book. Somehow he ended up dating one of the most popular and defiant girls on college campus. Things with them are going well for now until they have a bit of an accident with the drinks.

TW: mentions of drugs, alcohol, swearing, slight mention of grinding

Harry was sitting on his bed reading Anna Kerenina, his absolute favorite novel. His girlfriend y/n was sitting across from him still trying to convince him. “It’ll be so much fun Harry please.” She said. Harry sighed as he put the book down and ran a hand through his brown curls. “What’s fun for you isn’t necessarily fun for me honey.” He replied. Y/n rolled her eyes. “Harry everybody on campus will be at this party.”

“Everybody not including me then.” He said

“Why not? Why don’t you wanna go, H?”

“You know I don’t like those parties. What’s so great about half naked people grinding on each other and doing coke?”

“What’s not good about that?”

Harry’s lips twitched up in a bit of a smile before his stern demeanor reappeared. “I’m not going baby. End of.”

“Harry please!”

“Nope.”

She takes the thick novel out of his hands and tosses it to the side before turning to him. She sighs, “please? It’ll be fun. All the people at the party are there with their partners. I’m always alone because you don’t come.”

“So? There’s nothing wrong with that honey. People enjoy different things. You enjoy loud parties and drinking while I prefer to stay inside and get my hands on a good novel it’s perfectly normal lovie.”

“Cant you do this for me? Please Harry? Just once?”

“Y/n…”

“How can you say you won’t like it if you’ve never been? Remember when you lectured me for saying I wouldn’t like Jane Austen before I read her work?”

Harry scoffs. She was using his words against him,. “Jane Austen and college parties are two very different things darling.”

“No they’re not. They’re both things we hadn’t experienced yet. I tried reading more for you so you can try one party for me. Please?”

“….if I don’t like it will you leave me alone about it?”

“Promise.”

He sighs. “You minx. How do you get everything you want?”. Y/n chuckles and hands his book back.

That night she went through every outfit in Harry’s closet and helped him pick out a nice thing to wear. They arrived at the party and Harry almost instantly wanted to leave. The loud music was pounding into his head and the smell of alcohol was so overpowering throughout the whole room. He was only here for y/n. She began walking towards a guy so Harry followed. “Hey, Mike!” She called. The Mike guy looked around and smirked.

“Hey y/n. Oh—y/n with a boyfriend?! That’s a sight you don’t see often.”

Y/n and Mike both chuckled. Harry just looked between the two and politely smiled because he wasn’t sure if they were laughing at him or with him but he was hoping it was the latter. Y/n explained, “Harry’s a literature major so he has a lot of work and can’t come to parties usually.”. Mike nods and smiles, “Can I get y’all something?”. Y/n turns to Harry.

“What would you like Haz?” She asks. Harry doesn’t know what to say. “Um..a beer would be fine?”. Mike and y/n exchange a look before they start laughing. Harry was so confused..what had he said wrong? A beer was a normal drink to have at a party…right? Mike chuckled, “we mean something stronger.”.

“Oh..” Harry replied “um..like tonic?”

Y/n and Mike laughed again. Y/n took Harry’s hand “baby he’s asking if you want anything stronger. Coke? Meth?”

Harry froze. “Meth? Are you crazy? Do you know how dangerous that shit is y/n?”

“Relax Harry. It’s not a regular thing. Why don’t you try some?”

“No. I’m drawing the line here y/n.”

“Okay, okay. Chill, you don’t have to if you don’t want. I won’t make you.” She smiles.

Harry felt a rush of relief knowing she wasn’t looking to pressure him into anything. Mike looked over, “boyfriend’s lame y/n. Lame.”

“Hey,” she said, “he’s never been to one of these parties before cut him some slack. Come on Harry let’s get beers.”

Harry thanked god in his head and followed her. They actually had a nice night. Harry downed a beer quickly. Y/n froze. “Harry…you just drank mine..”

Harry chuckled. “Aw. Sorry baby, you can have another one.”

“No..harry mine was spiked.”

“W-what?”

“Yeah! That’s why I told you not to drink it!”

“Well what now?! Will I be okay? I-I-”

“Woah. Stop. You’ll be fine, don’t worry. Let’s get you home.”

Thankfully nothing happens apart from the fact that he has a pounding headache the next day. Y/n profusely apologizes and the next few days are spent in his dorm reading Jane Austen and sipping on hot cocoa.

[kookiecrumb]