#this is so tender I am levitating

[landgraabbed]

[qtboni]

hi AGAIN.

ugh i cant get out of your fucking page. its like i live here like a rat

im back, hi, have another req bc i just thought of it and needed it in my veins.

how about some comfort from fatherfigure!price? like reader is sad kinda and he helps? maybe reader "accidentally" calls him dad, nothing to /srs

(im mentally okay i swear😭)

idk if you even do price tbh, i haven't seen it on your page tho

anyways i needed to write this somewhere or ill forget and like wither away into nothing or sum shit

im being dramatic. i think.

okay thats it bye bye dearest boni.

(sorry im constently blowing up your asks😭😭)

HAI LOVIE !! THIS WAS SO FUNNY TO WRITE AGHSHS ALSO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LOMG OMG.

╰﹒ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐃 𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 ?

PAIRING: Captain 'John' Price X Reader

C/W: comfort & humor! + gn!reader, explicit words, price playin' wit chu, somebody ate your cake (it was soap don't tell him tho /hj)

W/C: 1.3k

"What's got you looking so down today, sergeant?" Captain Price asked in his usual stern voice as he entered the living room, noticing the dejected look on your face.

You had been sitting on the sofa for hours now, cleaning your holster and moping around. He approached you with a glass of water in hand.

"Somebody ate my cake," you slowly replied, your voice heavy with emotion. You didn't usually get sad over such small things, but today, you feel so tired.

"Are you telling me that you're this upset over a slice of cake?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. Captain Price raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised to hear something like that coming from you.

"I guess I am," you said, your voice barely audible. You shrugged and looked down at your holster, not wanting to admit to being such a crybaby. "I was saving it for this specific rest day to ... indulge myself with sweets.."

Captain Price's expression softened as he placed the glass of water down next to you. He sat down on the sofa next to you and put an arm around your shoulders.

"Listen, sergeant," he said in a comforting tone, "It's okay to be upset about something. Everyone has their own quirks and things that are important to them. And in our line of work, we need to be able to deal with any situation and not let little stuff like this get us down."

"Thanks, Cap'," you said, a hint of embarrassment in your voice. You smiled at him, grateful for the reassurance.

"Any time," He replied with a soft smile. He then stood up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with two fairly large cookies, handing it to you. "Here, this should cheer you up."

"No way," You were overjoyed, your face lighting up with a smile.

"Yes way," He replied, playfully eyeing the cookies then to you. "Have it, yeah?"

"Dad, oh my god," You squealed excitedly, taking a bite out of the cookie, savoring the taste of the sweetness and the tenderness. "This is so sweet of you. Thank you so much!"

Oh no. Dad? Did you just call your captain, 'dad'?

Avoiding the embarrassment of calling your captain 'dad' in a moment of vulnerability, you silently prayed that he hadn't heard it. This was going to be awkward, and the thought of having to explain yourself was making you cringe.

Just play it off...

Now as much as Price wants to give you the other cookie for you to eat, he retracted his hand away from your grabby hands, not letting you get one.

"Cap?" Your hands stay levitated, clearly ready to munch on the cookie on your Captain's grip.

Did he caught on?

"Hm?"

You had to think fast. Change the subject before things got too awkward!

"Are.. are you going to eat that?"

"Nope."

"Then why- actually no, just- isn't that for me?"

"Correct," He chuckles as he continued dangling the pastry infront of you.

Silence.

You stared at him incredulously, your hand visibly itching to just pounce on the cookie and munch on it.

What was your captain doing?

"See, the funny thing is, kid," He trailed off as he waves the cookie back and forth with his hand up in the air. He smirks when your eyes followed the cookie's movement. "I haven't thought much of being a father."

Shit. Play it off...

You hummed in confusion, tilting your head in curiosity.

Where was he going with this? And also, can he just give you the cookie? After all, he gave it to you, right?

Just give me the cookie, dammit.

"Let alone..." He paused and looked at you in the eyes. Shit. "Someone calling me one, aye?"

You feel like you could sink into the ground and vanish from existence. The embarrassment was too much to bear!

"...Who?"

Bye.

Captain Price chuckles at you, "Don't play dumb on me now, sergeant."

Your mind is racing, trying to think of something to say. You stuttered a reply, "I- Capta-"

But before you know it, he interrupts your thoughts with his sharp wit.

"Oh? It was 'Dad' a second ago, wasn't it?" He retorded with a proud smirk playing across his lips, looking at you with an air of amusement and teasing. He knows exactly what to say to get under your skin and he's not afraid to use it to his advantage.

It's clear that he wants an answer, but all you can do is sputter a few incoherent words before retreating back into your shell. You feel a mix of embarrassment and frustration, wishing you could come up with a clever come-back, but the only thing that's clear right now is that Price has you stumped.

"Sergeant?" He calls out to you teasingly, awaiting for your reply to his question.

"Mhm?" You can feel your ears slowly turning red as your Captain's teasing hits a nerve. You can't seem to quite meet his eyes, instead looking at the ground with an embarrassed blush. You fidget with the straps of your holster, unable to quite figure out how to respond.

"Wasn't it 'Dad' a second ago?" Captain Price repeated as he raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a mix of amusement and confusion.

You blush in embarrassment as you realize he wouldn't let you get off easily withyour slip-up. You look down at the ground.

"I'm sorry, sir," You quickly clear your throat, hoping to regain your composure. Still unable to break your gaze from the floor, you mutter, "It won't happen again."

Suddenly, the cookie appeared in your line of vision that was still situated at the ground. You heard your captain sigh and tutted, drawing your attention back to him.

The cookie! The cookie?

He held the cookie out to you, a small smile playing on his lips as he waited for you to accept it. You were initially taken aback, feeling a surge of warmth and gratitude toward your captain.

"Didn't ask for an apology, kid," He said with a playful frown, seemingly amused by the situation. He took your hand and placed the cookie on it, his gaze locking onto yours. "Was just surprised is all, hm?"

"Still," You cleared you throat as straightened your posture and looked up at him, albeit still feeling the sting of embarrassment. "It's my bad."

"Mhm," He hummed softly and raised his hand up to your head. He gently pats your head affectionately, yet his hand ruffled your hair, leaving it disheveled. "Whatever floats your boat, kid."

The soft pat on your head sends shivers down your spine, and you give him a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Cap', again." You beemed up with a smile, raising the cookie to his vision.

He gives a small nod before turning to leave, leaving you with a sense of warmth and contentment that stays with you long after he's gone. You watch as he offered a small wave goodbye and you respond the same, feeling a sense of gratitude for his kindnesses and understanding.

You were about to take a bite out of the delicious cookie he had given you. But just as you were about to revel in the sweet taste, you heard his voice once more calling out to you and startling you.

Turning around, you saw him standing there infront of the doorway, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he continued to speak.

"Though," he began, his voice low but full of laughter spilling through, "The cake's delicious, kid. Would have it again, 10 out of 10," he finished with a wink, and you couldn't help but gape at his leaving form.

What.

"Motherfuc-"

navi / masterlist

[tender-rosiey]

standard — gojo x f!reader

ᴀ/ɴ: gojo the king of all

gojo had just arrived home, and decided to greet you with takeout from your favorite restaurant only to find you staring at your reflection, with a rather gloomy look in your eyes.

“WIFEY I AM HOME!” he screams nonetheless making his presence known so you quickly snap to his direction.

you smile hurriedly, “welcome home, ‘toru! how was the mission?”

he puts the takeout on the table beside the door and strides to you. he levitates to highlight his “superiority” and looks down at you with a smirk.

you quirk a brow before landing a punch to his stomach making him fall to the ground and putting you in said “superior” position. the smirk on his face long gone.

“you were saying?” you taunt and he looks up at you but doesn’t say anything, “satoru?—“

he, in the flash on an eye, picks you up and looks at you before whining, “wifey!”

you hum and he continues, “why were you looking so sad in front of the mirror?”

looking down, a frown takes place on your face and he strokes your skin making you sigh and bury your face in his shoulder.

“take your time,” he says softly.

he presses a kiss to your neck when he feels your tears fall on his shirt, “i-it’s just one of those times.”

he nods gently, “it’s okay, I will be here with you; did someone say something?”

“I don’t know satoru, it’s just sometimes I feel very out of place and people often look at me like i am an eyesore or something,” you say while he rocks you gently, “I appreciate and I am so happy that you think I am beautiful but—“

he cuts you off and puts you on the bed before sitting in front of you, “it’s not enough; that’s also okay.”

“no one should magically expect that their attention alone is enough to make someone else always or extremely confident,” gojo pats your head gently.

then he cups your face, “babe, there is no set standard in the world, and if the people here don’t like how you look then we will go somewhere I guarantee you people will swoon over you in.”

“Even if I want to be selfish,�� he pauses dramatically and releases a sigh, making you giggle lightly, “and keep you to myself, but if it makes you happy then I don’t mind giving it to you, I mean,” he chuckles before leaning close and rubbing your noses, “I already gave you all of me; why stop there?”

you smile and hold his hand, lost for words and he grins, “have I ever told you how much I love your smile?”

when you roll your eyes, he pushes you on the bed and peppering you with kisses on every part of your body.

“wait! satoru, the food!”

“I will just get you more! you’re my priority right now!”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15 @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @bakugossanity @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspen @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @fiona782 @ginneko @kisakitwister @iamjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or i will curse you

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

Look, don’t touch

CW: nsfw, chastity play, leon x fem!reader, first person pov, slight femdom, mentions of public fingering, oral sex, begging, submissive leon

word count: 2200~

i saw leon with maría gómez‘s shoe in his face, and for some reason it made me think of that one “wolf of wall street” scene where margot robbie presses her shoe into dicaprio’s face. my mutual asked me to write a fic about it. so here i am. torturing our favourite man.

disclaimer: i’m not a native english speaker, so let me know if you spot any mistakes.

“Darling, please,” he mumbles, as another miserable whimper — no, whine, even — comes out of him, throbbing cock so hard I can see its tip showing out of his boxers, dress pants unbuttoned and resting at the top of his thighs. My chuckles are impossible to hold in anymore, and frankly, I’m not really trying at this point, so I bend over with the most mocking grin my face can make, ass just inches away from his erection.

“No.”

Just like that this sweet word rolls off my tongue, forcing another desperate groan out of my poor husband.

“But please, honey.. Please, please, please..”

“Jesus, Leon, have you run out of words?” I mock with another laugh, too entertained with how precious he looks right now: hair stuck to his sweaty temples, loosened tie hanging messily around his neck, head of his cock so swollen its shade matches his flushed cheeks.

“Baby, please.. I’ll get on my knees, I-I’ll do anything you want, I’m so sorry, please just let me-“

“No, Leon. We had an agreement. You screwed up. Get on your knees all the way you want, it won’t help you.”

He audibly gasps, as his eyes swirl the pretty curve of my ass with such intensity I can practically feel them undressing me. I glance over my shoulder right at his fumbling hands. They’re shaking: and I know how eager he is to grab me and shove me down his dick. But he’s not allowed. And it’s killing him.

It was all his fault. God, I bet he regrets it so much right now. He was so close to finally earning that good fuck tonight, being so obedient and refraining from touching himself all week, proud to be so good for me. Tonight was going to be special. A whole evening to ourselves, with a nice dinner date, finally sensual touches and, of course, the oh so desired orgasm, strong and intoxicating after these long seven days of violently painful abstinence.. And now it’s ruined. All thanks to him.

The ride home was thrilling. Sitting on his lap in the backseat, I ground against his already hard dick, sucking on his tongue and stealing muffled moans from him. His fingers were mercilessly stretching my wet cunt under the pretty dress I wore just for this special occasion. The only thing concerning me was the cab driver. What if he notices that we’re basically having a whole damn foreplay in his car? But fortunately — he was too concentrated on the road to pay much attention to me being fingered in his backseat.

I haven’t seen Leon this excited in a while. The poor touch — or should I say ‘sex’ — starved thing dragged me to the bedroom straight from the car, almost levitating on our way there. Kissing, biting, whispering tender ‘i love you’s and breathy ’fuck’s into my ear, grabbing my thighs like his life depended on it. I praised. I reciprocated. I was also excited for this night, fantasising about his damn dick every day, rubbing my clit in anticipation of this fucking date, creaming my fingers several times a day, wishing it was his tongue instead. And there it goes. The moment before disaster.

Leon frowns, fighting with the zipper of my dress, shaky hands excited to just rip it into tiny pieces right on me, but he wouldn’t dare. It’s my favourite. I laugh, admiring the way he squirms, but the sound of my phone ringing interrupts us and I jolt. With a sigh, I press an apologetic kiss to his cheek, rushing to slip out of his embrace. I know exactly which client is calling me so late. And unfortunately, I can’t hung on this one up.

“Sorry, darling, I gotta take this. It’s urgent,“ I cooed, jumping off the bed, ignoring the saddened expression on Leon’s face.

“Uh, really?” he acts like a fucking tall child when he’s needy. Whiny, demanding and bratty, he gets incredibly upset when he’s not getting all of my attention. “Damn, honey, please tell them you’re not available. My balls will explode if I wait for another five minutes.”

“Your balls will be just fine,” I wave him off, disappearing behind the door. “You’ve been waiting for a whole week now. Five more minutes won’t kill you.”

He sighed, watching me go, fighting the urge to pull me back into his lap, but he knows I’ll make him regret it, so the only thing left for him — is to wait. And my idea of waiting sure as hell didn’t include jerking off with a hope that he’ll be able to stop before I finish my call, or that I’ll let it slide.

But I never let it slide. And he knows it.

I caught my husband red-handed. It was quite a sight, actually, since I rarely see him like this — stroking his pulsating cock, lower lip bitten so hard it’s almost bleeding — a pathetic try to muffle the dirty sounds he makes when he touches himself.

Oh Leon. How could you disappoint me like that? I frown, watching his face drop. He realised his mistake the second I walked back into the room, eyes instantly filling with guilt and desperation. He quickly puts his hand away, blinking repeatedly as countless ‘sorry’s leave his mouth one by one, followed by gasps and whimpers.

Oh poor, poor Leon. Ruining the whole night over one small moment of weakness. How sad.

And now he can only beg, as I mock and tease him, refusing to give him what he needs so bad. Because we both know the rules. Every time he slips up like that — I add one more day to his abstinence.

And for every ‘please’ he says I have three more ‘no’s to respond with.

I lean on the headboard, ignoring his desperate pleas with annoyed eye roll. Now I face him as he sits on the edge of our bed, with his lustful gaze lingered on my thighs. He would be feeling them up right now, only if he wasn’t such an impatient horny brat, and the idea of it frustrates him.

“Honey, please, you can’t do this to me,” he demands, as his hand reaches for my ankle to grab it, but I’m faster, and Leon ends up with my stiletto pressed against his crotch, squinting at the sensation of my heel being gently pushed forward his balls. It’s not painful, well, okay, maybe it slightly is in a situation like this. After all, he’s overstimulated enough for every single teasing gesture I make to feel like a pure torture.

“Oh but I can. And I will,” I utter, as another grin settles across my face. “You know you screwed up.”

Leon squirms. Tries to push my heel off the crotch, arching his hips. Eventually, he manages to do it, humming when I surrender and put my leg away. A silly thought rushes through my mind. A perfect opportunity to tempt him more. To deceive him.

I spread my legs and bend backwards, lowering my body in a way that allows him a better view, smirking when I hear him gulp — I swear to god, this man acts like a damn flustered teenager every time he gets to stare between my thighs, quivering like it’s his first time seeing me naked.

My short dress is slightly rolled up and I know he can see the slick stain on my underwear: he stares right at it, actually, clenching his fist with a suppressed groan. I rejoice, sliding my fingers into the sides of my thong, beginning to pull them down painfully slow. The cool air is palpable on my wet folds now, and I have to admit that it’s a rather.. weird feeling. I look up at Leon to find him utterly dazed. I thought it was impossible for him to get any more harder, but now his cock was curved up towards his stomach, half of its length peeking out of the boxers, precum glistening on the tip. I continue to drag the underwear down my legs, leaving a tiny trail of slick on my inner thigh.

“H-Honey?” he harshly exhales, eyes glued to the lingerie around my ankles. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, Leon, I’m just so sick of this stupid piece of cloth..” I playfully tilt my head to the side, finally breaking free from the underwear, jauntily pushing it aside with my shoe, admiring the confused expression on Leon’s face. “I don’t think I ever want to wear these again.”

He gulps, hitching in breath. And I know that if I were to cup his erection in this exact moment — his pulse would most definitely be palpable in it.

“Y-yeah?..” he pants in the most submissive way someone has ever said this word to me, getting on all fours, desirous eyes glued to mine, hope in them evident and arousing. I rejoice again. I‘ve deluded him successfully and now he’s crawling to me, thinking that I’m done tormenting him. How naive.

One smooth motion — and Leon is stopped by my stiletto pressed into his handsome face. A muffled moan escapes his tightened throat when my heel meets his chin, pushing him away from me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss, stretching my leg forward, coaxing him to move to the edge of the bed again.

“Look, don’t touch,” I remind, enjoying his reaction with a cruel grin, and he closes his eyes with another deep exhale, so seductively pathetic: just like a devoted dog, forced to put up with his owner’s decisions.

“You’re so evil, darling..” he laughs, looking up with the most vulnerable face I’ve ever seen him make. He’s craving me. So bad, it probably hurts — god, I bet his desire became burning in a literal way at this point.

“You like me best when I’m evil,” I purr, and we both know that’s a statement he can’t deny — he fucking loves it when I make him feel weak.

“That’s true,” Leon sighs, keeping the exact same stance, not moving away from my shoe for an inch, which makes me assume that I’ve accidentally discovered some new kink of his. Well, noted.

“But please,” he continues, blushing even harder when he notices how I bite my lip, admiring the embarrassing position he’s in right now, “it was so stupid of me to do that when I was just minutes away from having you.. I’m terribly sorry, dear.”

“Yeah,” I nod, putting my leg out of his face, “you should be.”

“I’ll make it up to you! I’ll do whatever you want! Hell, I won’t touch myself ever again if that can make you forgive me!” he reassured, slowly crawling to me again.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Leon.”

“I-I’m not!” he protests, leaning in, fingertips almost touching the bare skin of my thighs, “Anything to fuck you tonight.”

I laugh, reluctantly admitting to myself: this bastard really knows how to get me going. Well.. who am I to decline such an offer, right?

Leon waits for the answer, nervously staring into my face. And I finally shrug, raising one eyebrow. “Anything, you say?”

“Yes. Anything,” he confirms with an enthusiastic nod, blushing profusely, “Please, baby, I’m dying for you right now…”

And he means it. Tilts his head with a desperate whimper, tickling my shoulder with the heat of his breath — close enough to kiss me, but he still keeps the distance between us, patiently waiting for my decision. He wouldn’t dare to let me down again.

So I submit, unable to resist his fucking charms anymore (or maybe I’m just too horny to care about the punishment at this point).

“Fine,” I hiss with a sigh and an exaggerated pissed expression, reaching for his hair to pull on it. “I don’t have the energy to deal with you when you become such a needy begging mess.”

He chuckles, allowing me to grab him unquestioningly.

I bite back a giggle, as he makes the most delicious slutty noise when I forcibly tilt his head to press our foreheads together.

“Thank you, darling,” he purrs into my lips, but I don’t let him finish that sentence, abruptly tightening my grip on the top of his head.

“For what? You don’t have my permission yet,” I remind him with a taunting grin, bending one leg to push my knee between his thighs, putting just the right amount of pressure on his balls again. And he squeaks with a satisfied huff, like the obedient slut he is.

“How do I earn your permission then?..” he whispers, grinding against my knee, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Put that tongue to work and I’ll.. think about it,” I sigh, as my other hand grabs his chin, thumb caressing his abused lower lip — bitten of arousal so many times it has crimson teeth marks here and there.

Jesus, I have too much mercy on that man.

When I mention eating out — Leon sparkles with joy and rushes to place himself between my legs, covering my skin in kisses on his way down, purring muffled ‘thank you’s against my wet folds, eager to put his mouth on me.

I’m not thinking straight at this point anymore. I just lay down on the soft sheets, entwining my fingers in his hair again, ready to be hoarse from moaning while Leon earns his right to cum tonight.

“This is the last time I’m letting him get away with it”, I promise to myself for the umpteenth time, arching my back as Leon’s tongue swirls around my clit.

Now that’s what a disciplined man is.

[tomjamesavery]

Adapted and re-wrote one of my drabbles, since it fit so nicely for @corneliaavenue-ao3 's Taylor Swift Several Sunlit Daylights Fest, with the prompt: "4. Down Bad" Read on: AO3 Harry felt possibly scandalous, as he was sneaking up the little winding gravel road that led to the Burrow. It was eleven pm on a warm July night while the moon and stars were lighting his way on this clear, cloudless evening.

It was quiet, except for some crickets and his footsteps on the gravel no sounds disturbed the evening peace. Bathing in nature's beauty he relished the nightly atmosphere bestowed on him. Feeling confident under the moon's silvery gown he paced up his steps, now skipping up the little shallow hill toward tonight's goal. The little rustical six-storied Wizarding cottage known as the Burrow.

But he wasn’t here for the architecture, if you could even name it that. He was here for something else, someone else. A flame in the dark, his burning light, the love of his life, Ginny.

After a few more minutes he finally arrived at the old building, now simply brandishing his wand, and out of thin air a tall wooden ladder appeared, leaning against the window frame on the third floor. He had a plan.

He climbed up his freshly conjured walkway, trying not to make any more noise than necessary, it was at the end of the day in the middle of the night, and the last thing he wanted, was to wake up the entirely Weasley Clan.  Not that he didn’t like them, quite the opposite, he loved them, they were his second family in all but blood, but tonight he was only here for one of them, for her alone.

He finally reached the last step, his eyes now on the same height as the window, he knew she was waiting in there, as it had been her idea for him to come here tonight in the first place.

So he raised his right hand, trying to still keep his balance as he knocked on the thin glass window, three times, just as they had agreed on, not that it was of any importance, no one else would knock on a third-floor window in the middle of the night in a safe quiet little neighbourhood.

He waited for a second, trying to keep still, even holding his breath so as to not sway too much on the flimsy wooden ladder.

Suddenly the window opened, catching Harry off guard as he stared into the chocolatey dark brown eyes of Ginny who was now sticking her flushed freckled face out of the window, kissing him on the lips sweetly before he could form a single thought in his head. 

It was like a million fireworks went off at once, the whole world seemingly coming to a standstill around just the two of them, and Harry felt like he could levitate.

Only that he couldn’t, quite the opposite, he wasn’t levitating, he was falling… …HE WAS FALLING.  And before his mind could catch up with what was happening the last thing he heard was a loud muffled scream as he forcefully crashed into a tall rose bush feeling the little thorns violently scrape at his skin he roughly landed on the wet cool dirt, the bush luckily feathering the worst of the fall.

“Harry! Are you alright?” He heard Ginny’s voice so full of worry, somewhere in the back of his head.

He groaned, lifting himself up to his knees, his ears ringing, everything hurt, but in a way, he knew none of the injuries were overly serious, he had gotten off lucky.

He felt tender hands grasp at his shoulders, pulling him up. So he lifted his head and looked into his girlfriend's worried eyes, they were wide open as she checked him over it seemed she barely recognised him for the bruises on his face.

“Harry, did you break something, where does it hurt, oh baby I am so sorry!” The words stumbled from Ginny’s mouth as she seemed plagued by guilt and worry.

“It wasn’t your fault Gin…” He whispered. “I guess I just…” He simply was at a loss for words at her stunning beauty, making Ginny giggle. “You truly are down bad, literally!” But her expression changed to one of worry again. “That doesn’t mean that I am not scared though, are you really alright?”

But Harry didn’t want to worry her, if he wasn’t such a fool, he wouldn't have fallen in the first place, so he forced himself to his feet, pulling a gasping Ginny flush against his body, before simply kissing her deeply, all the pain in his body subsiding, becoming a mere afterthought, an anecdote buried under the mass of their blossoming love.

Ginny quickly melted into him, after her surprise had yielded to burning passion, she kissed him back with such force, he felt like an electrical current of pure light was flowing through them, connecting them, their magic dancing through each other's hearts as it harmonised their bodies, entangling their souls. They were one.

And as time stood still, neither of them noticed how the rose buds around them opened, blossoming into fire-red roses, growing under their light, spurred by their magic.

After they finally pulled apart, no scratch, no bruise, and no injury was left on Harry’s radiating body, mended through their unyielding love, where their magic had connected at once. 

He knew their love would prevail over their pain, always and forever.

[missfrieden]

Tech as a father Chapter 38

I know it took a while, but the AT-AT lego build is keeping my free time, but soon I am done and will share a picture!

Masterlist

Chapter 38: Working alongside

Alma's fascination with Orion was undeniable. As Tech went about assisting with the temple's reconstruction, Alma was always nearby, eager to lend a hand and to be close to the adorable infant. She frequently asked to hold Orion or simply watched him with a mixture of wonder and affection.

Tech, although somewhat surprised by Alma's persistence, couldn't deny that it was endearing to see her so interested in his son. He found moments to gently hand Orion over to Alma, ensuring that she held him securely. Alma would cradle the baby with the utmost care, her eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and tenderness. Tech, being the ever-practical and responsible caregiver, would give Alma brief instructions on how to hold and care for Orion. He'd remind her to support the baby's head and to be gentle when handling him. Alma, in turn, would listen attentively and follow his guidance.

Despite the initial surprise of having someone other than himself care for Orion, Tech appreciated Alma's enthusiasm and willingness to learn. He knew that one day, when she became a full-fledged Jedi, her understanding of children and families would serve her well. As the days passed, Alma's bond with Orion grew stronger. She began to understand the intricacies of caring for an infant and revelled in the experience. While Tech continued to work on repairing the temple, he couldn't help but smile when he saw Alma cradling Orion, her Padawan beads gently brushing against the baby's cheek.

Tech knew that his son was in good hands with the Jedi, even if he had to split his attention between his duties and Orion. The presence of Amanda, Alma, and the rest of the squad created a sense of unity and family that he cherished deeply. And with Orion safe in Alma’s presence, Tech decided he could climb up one of the intact walls and help out there. Maybe mainly because Amanda was up there. First he just stood there admiring her focus, while other troopers worked around her.

Amanda's stumble and near-fall sent a collective gasp through the troopers who were working alongside her. She had been using the Force to assist in lifting a heavy piece of debris when the accidental collision occurred. As she dangled precariously from the broken ledge, her heart raced, and she struggled to maintain her grip. All to sudden for her and her concentration being broken to react.

Tech, who had been nearby, was the first to react. Without a second thought, he rushed to her side. His swift and agile movements took him to Amanda's side in an instant. His concern was evident in his eyes as he extended a steady hand towards her. "Amanda, I've got you," Tech reassured her in a calm, reassuring tone. His gloved hand reached out to grasp her wrist, providing her with the support she needed to regain her footing.

With Tech's assistance, Amanda managed to pull herself back up onto the solid platform, her breaths coming in rapid succession. She nodded gratefully to Tech, her blue eyes reflecting a mix of relief and embarrassment. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. Tech simply nodded in response, his concern for her well-being never wavering. After ensuring that she was steady on her feet, he returned to his duties, but his watchful eye remained on Amanda, ready to offer assistance should she need it again. His hand lingering on the small of her back.

Hunter his eyes still fixed upwards, arms crossed let out a loud whistle. “Tech, come her for a sec!” Hunter watches how Tech climbs back down and walks up to him, seeing how his brother turns his head to look over to Alma who fascinates Orion with stones that levitate before his eyes, tiny hand trying to grab them. “What is it?” Tech asks him as he stops before his brother. “Look, I know you try to be subtle, but please try to keep a bit more distance between you and Amanda. Really, you can sneak out during the night if you are careful, but you never know if some were tasked to watch.” Hunter explains in a low voice.

Tech appreciated Hunter's concern and nodded in acknowledgment. He understood the implications of their situation, especially with other troopers around who might be tasked with observing their interactions. As much as he longed to openly express his feelings for Amanda, he knew the risks were too great. "I know, Hunter," Tech replied quietly, keeping his voice low. "I'll be careful. It's just... difficult, especially when we're all working together like this."

Hunter gave Tech a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "We'll get through this, Tech. Just remember why we're here and the mission at hand. We'll find a way." Tech nodded again, his gaze returning to Amanda as she continued her work. He couldn't help but smile faintly, grateful for Hunter's understanding and support, even in matters of the heart.

Chapter 39

Reblogs are very welcome and I am open for feedback, as english is not my first language, so maybe my sentences may be weird sometimes, or I write a word wrong even with google, or I use a wrong word for an item.

Tag: @spectacular-skywalker @aalizazareth @neyswxrld @clonethirstingisreal @sleepycreativewriter @moonwreckd

Thank you all for your patience. And I cherish each and every reblog, like or comment. Even if I sometimes feel demotivated, the reaction always lifts my mood. Mental health is a little b*tch lately, and I am actually written sick for a week to get my messy head to calm down.

[analogoose]

I read your avatrice fic and... Yeah I gotta admit spaghetti burrito sounds intriguing. That's like carbs on carbs but... Just, for scientific purposes, if I want to experiment a little, how should I go about making it?

ALSO if you're taking prompt: Beatrice got really injured during the first fight at adriels temple. when they returned to Jillian's place, Ava had to stitch her up while Beatrice is having a crisis of faith ie. Who are we even praying to?

sigh. go join that anon in the corner of shame and think about what u have done binary. jk jk ok here’s my unofficial/official recipe - at least the way ava made it:

1. Make ur spaghetti. if u like protein - meatballs or whatever add that in there

2. Grab ur tortilla, scoop in some spaghetti, throw a generous helping of whatever kind of cheese u like - ava used frozen shredded. And then roll it up!

3. Put ur rolled burrito on a lil pan on low heat, maybe some oil, and wait for both sides to turn however crispy u like it. Alternatively u could brush it w like garlic butter for extra flavor and crispy-ness

4. Enjoy i guess 😭

As for the prompt: I suppose i am unofficially! idk the timeline for filling them but im always happy to receive prompts. typically i won’t respond to them until I fill them. but ok so I See ur vision binary. a crisis of faith huh. im not a theology bro but im gonna think on it that’s an interesting path to explore. Bea feels her faith slipping ava helps her kinda get it back (not entirely but u kno?) mixed in w some good ol tender wound care okay okay - also are u talking about the church levitation fight or the one where duretti dies? cuz if ur talking about the first one ohhhh boy..bea’s left leg locked up so what if Ava gives her a lil calve massage to help out? (will look more into this) if ur talking about the second fight then ignore what i just said

[maryjane888]

Jane Eyre Imagine

Context: After Jane finds out about Mr. Rochester’s wife, she thinks leaving him is the wisest thing to do. She packs her bags in her room, while her love tries to change her mind. And maybe she will.

Warnings: just pure passion Word count: 500

“Jane! Open the door!” Mr Rochester bangs on the wood. The sound echoes in her heart painfully. He his restless, not backing away for a second. “Please, just hear me.”

Jane fills her modest bags with her garments. She really his in pain, not wanting to leave him. She hears his calls. “Jane. Jane. Jane.”, like a wounded creature, repeating the name like it can comfort his terrors. He continues to hit the door with his fists; it feels like it’s going to break at any second. She becomes desperate. There’s no time for packing, Jane must leave now, before she looses her strength. The window is her only chance. She inspects the grounds, it will have to do.

“Jane! Jane!” He roars like a beast “Let me in now. I need you. I love you.” Jane swings one leg over the window. The banging stops and before she knows Edward his forcing the door open and making the wood droop to the floor with a loud noise that scares her. They lock eyes, both breathing heavily.

“Jane, what are you doing?” Mr. Rochester sprinted in her direction, grabbed her by the waist and dragged her away from her only escape. Jane gasped in surprise at the closeness. "Don´t leave me." he whispered while resting his head on the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. "Don´t leave me, Jane. You are my soul, my heart, the reason of my existence." Mr. Rochester pushed away the fabric of her dress slightly down her shlouder; he kissed the tender skin.

Jane felt like she was levitating due to his actions; they seemed to blur her reason. Or was he just awakening her heart? "Sir, I have to quit Thornfield Hall. I have to do it in order to respect my being." she said, batteling his arms. Jane didn´t have the strength to argue more, for she felt like she would burst in tears.

"I beg you with all my forces to listen to your heart. We love eachother, Jane. Soulmates cannot be separeted. If so, they are condemned to destruction." Mr. Rochester grabbed her fragile figure by the shoulders and waist, making her sigh in despair and passion; she burned under his touch. "We shall find a way to make emends with the errors of my past. Departing from one another won´t make our situation right, it is not the solution. Stay, Jane. Love me like your destiny and heart demands you. Say yes, say yes quickly." His brows where furrowed in pure pain, his fingers sweaty in nervousness.

One single tear dropped from her emotive eye and travelled down her chin, his thumb gathered it quickly and rubbed her flushed cheek. "I cannot find the power in me to contradict my most deep feelings, sir. I will stay with you." Edward cried in hapiness and embraced her in a thight and possessive hold, kissing the top of her head repeatedly. "I am the hapiest creature! I can love my little one without restrains! I love you, Jane, most ardently."

[fantasyideas1]

quotes almat

Poetry Eternal spring in my pants, your beauty melts the snow, I love you lustfully, serenely, endlessly drowning in love for you, priceless and sweet passion for you, juicy, tender, passion dissolves in the body, unbroken gaze with you is also sex at a distance, I feel the love attraction growling in you, wild and free passion, I taste sweet moments, I feel body and soul as a continuation of my happy eternity in you, perfectionist bliss for the eyes, hot bliss for my eyes, I have an auto orgasm from you, violins float in the sky, in the wide wings of the clouds, I keep us in my dreams, I cherish you in my soul, tenderly singing, we are immortal in my soul, we are united in my thoughts, we are complete in my soul, you are the idealism that warms eternal values with sacred sacred memories , Jokes You will walk around with a machine gun like this, and not a single potential criminal will come up to you asking what time it is. I have a surge of stupidity in terms of strength The subject is lying on the couch, and suddenly he is shocked, the doctor says damn, you woke up, you should have fallen into a coma, in the sense of a lucid dream Inspiration as if a tick bit the balls without adding salt She's having another ovulation, run over you, run over you, she's nagging, rolls up to you like in a Cadillac, hey baby My girlfriend has a trumpet calling sign above her anus The girl says girls my boyfriend has chimney sweep written on his penis Athletes change their shoes, are they more beautiful than super models? Look at this weightlifter, she can lift any super heavy lazy dick, five hundred kg (kilogram) of pure muscle, how masturbating is that? Why is it impossible to get a dry orgasm like a burp or a fart, girls could get a fart (fart, orgasm) through both holes If my name has weight, I have the right to have my say, put it on the scale He saw himself in the filter as a girl, the guy looks at himself and says how ugly I am, I definitely wouldn’t be able to stand up to something like that All the girls have their clits sticking out when he walks by, aggressive erection of nipples and clits when he looks at them, keep your voice down If you are a bad doctor, he will philosophically explain that death is not the end, but the beginning of life Speaking to a tall man I need binoculars to see your face and a telescope to see a drop of your mind We decided what to do with you, two sides of women decided what could be done with me, and my brain is a football ball, I sat and counted the goals, what score I was interested in, I stopped listening after the fifth hour With spermotoxicosis, so much accumulates, even boil sour cream Kegel exercises? Penis bodybuilding, biceps balls, muscular boner, pour protein directly into the penis, what's next, bodybuilding penis competition, put the dick in a thick vagina and powerlifting has begun The technicians want you to levitate above the floor, like in a pedophile fairy tale about young wizards, so that the floor does not get dirty, paid prizes for shoes, shoe covers I didn’t know that Fast Food could help make a flamethrower from a set fire to a fart, but I didn’t expect fireworks in addition, you need to serve in the army, use your fart to shoot tanks, use your methane for bombs without fire, just gas, funny, humiliating, creepy, deadly, in the next world it’s a shame to say what you died from, you blush and smile Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich

[jeuneoiseau]

“Every Law”

I am  In my peace and power as I Lick my wounds and gut my kills But jump at the sound of the door I turn as you approach, I hide The blood, the guts, my insides Afraid you’ll shriek, drop to your knees, question how a dame like me  Dare be barbaric so effortlessly But I demand you hush before you scare away my next hunt I kill for food, but too for thrill For the fun I want to pass on To my daughter, my sister, my mother, so on Orgasm in secret Orgasm outside Moan so loud the moon eclipses Come so hard a new crater falls in Slide like the serpent, dance with the divine Sink my teeth in the peach, call in all that is mine Grab my pubic hair so hard, I’m lifted off the ground Pelvic-levitation Weightless-wonder Wetness-of-the-woman The mouth is mine Moon mouth gazing Moon mouth high Scent of breath, lover lie Under, over, under again My aim to let go, your aim to come in So deep the eyes roll back in the head So deep the moon eclipses again So, when you quiet down for me It is for all humanity For nature to go on and on For moth, for mouse, for dragonfly For baby belly to grown up lullaby For boneless boy to mended man For gutless girl to wolf woman I am In my peace and power as I Let sunlight shine on the Soft body, rough hand Tender breast, tilted neck Make home, build nest The body is a temple so Shatter the glass and wreak havoc Every law here is made to be broken

Julie Ellen Vogel

7/10/22

[tinyhistory]

Hey! Love your stories so much I just had to ask! Do you have any favorite drarry authors/stories? I sometimes compare the quality of other stories to ROA (oops!) because ROA is just that good. My personal favorites are ROA (of course!), the Foundations Series (saras_girl), the ordeal of being known (louisfake), denouement (the_never_was), Good to Me (And I'd Be So Good to You) (AWickedMemory), and To Hurt and Heal (cassisluna). Have you read these? Have a wonderful day! :)

Thank you, so glad you’ve enjoyed my stories! And thank you for so patiently waiting for a reply. I haven’t been online much in the past couple of weeks. Unfortunately I haven’t read any of your recs, but I’m always happy to add another fic to my to-read list.

I did a rec post a few months ago, but I’ll post an updated version now. The Skyhawke Archives appear to be down, which is crushing news. I’ve had to update a lot of the links.

So here are my favourite Drarry fanfics:

And We Are At Our Apogee (PG-13) by angelgazing

Summary: Draco wanted revenge, but it didn't work out that way.

My notes: Californian beaches, supermarkets, road trips, and a bittersweet ending.

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A Reckless State of Mind (T) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Draco is a Psyche-Diver, and his newest patient is Auror Potter, who’s been a pathological liar for over a year—and has just tried to violently end his own life.

Notes: The plot alone guarantees inclusion on this list. Probably the most creative fic I’ve ever read, and the twists and turns will keep you guessing.

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Berlin, In the Year of Our Lord (PG) by Are

Summary: Harry is a green-tea addict. Draco stalks him.

Notes: Probably my all-time favourite fic, along with Blue Vase. It’s sparse and minimal and I love that writing style.

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Blue Vase (M) by ivyblossom

Summary: Let’s pretend.

Notes: Draco finds an amnesiac Harry and befriends him, pretending they were once lovers. It’s pensive, short, and bittersweet.

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The Boy Who Only Lived Twice (E) by lettered

Summary: Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Notes: Action-heavy fics are damn hard to write, but lettered nails it. The action scenes are breakneck speed, the conversations are threaded with double meaning, and even the silences are tense.

-

Draco in Darkness (T) by Plumeria47.

Summary: Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight.

Notes: This is one of the first fics I ever read (when it was over on FF in 2003) so it’s probably here just for nostalgia points alone. I read it when I was a kid and just thought it was a lovely golden fairytale, the best romance I’d ever read in my (very short, thus far) life. I love reading it again, even years later as an adult when I can see the tarnish on it; the things my childhood eyes didn’t notice. I don’t care. It’s my soft and fuzzy comfort fic.

-

The Flesh is Frail (NC-17) by wildestranger

Summary: None

Notes: Draco has injuries from curses and spells, and Harry keeps him company. Draco is angry; Harry is stubborn. They argue their way into a grudging relationship. It’s a short read and well worth your ten minutes.

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Good-bye to Yesterday (NC-17) by furiosity

Summary: Draco felt ready to face even a million years in Azkaban as long as it meant that at the end of it all, he would make Potter pay.

Notes: It’s not a dark fic, but it certainly dips in and out of the shadows. If you like your romance to be sharp as a razor and bitter as black coffee, give it a read.

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Hymn to Color (PG) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Months after Draco cast a curse that took Harry’s eyesight, Harry is still trying to come to terms with it. Draco still wanted forgiveness, which was probably the problem.

Notes: Probably my very inadequate idea of “fluff”. It’s a quiet, introspective fic. Draco and Harry are well-written.

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Kings among runaways (PG) by enderxenocide.

Summary: Later, the toast will be slightly overcooked, Draco will burn the eggs, and there will be another fist fight in-between the living room and the front door, but they’ll eat breakfast with second-hand plates and Draco’s great-grandmother’s silverware.

Notes: Dreamy descriptions, abstract scenes, and the characters are lovingly delineated. Beautiful writing.

-

On Broken Glass (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: After the final battle, Draco is holding the shards that are left of his and Harry’s life.

Notes: Established relationship. Harry’s forgetful and seems to suffer both short-term and long-term memory loss; Draco stays by his side through six years of post-war amnesia. Very short, just a tiny ficlet. There’s sequels (in bite-size pieces) but I prefer to read the first ficlet and leave it there.

-

Paper Dolls (M) by cupiscent

Summary: In the final year of the War, Draco gets a letter, makes a choice and pays the price.

Notes: Short, succinct, and packs a punch. No character deaths, in case the summary has you feeling nervous.

-

Portrait (PG-13) by Silent Blast

Summary: None.

Notes: Dorian Grey, but Drarry. Of course it’s going to be good.

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Shattered (NC-17) by femmequixotic

Summary: One damned accident involving one too-lucky curse, and suddenly you'd think he was five again, with their Harry, be carefuls and their quick Levitating charms ready the instant the potion gives way and his rebelling hands lose hold of whatever's in their grasp.

Notes: Draco’s an artist. Harry’s intrigued by his sculptures and paintings.

-

Snatch (PG-13) by didntyoupotter

Summary: Harry is comatose, Hermione and Ron aren’t much help, and Draco isn’t sure about anything anymore.

Notes: The opening scene fools you into thinking this will be a light read with a streak of good humour. Don’t fall for it. By the third act, you’ll be hanging onto every word and feeling a lot of emotions. Also, back in the day, this was one of the Draco/Harry fics. Everyone knew of it. Pay your respects to your fandom history and read this beloved classic.

-

The Stages of Acceptance (T) by Lomonaaeren.

Summary: Harry, already happily married to Ginny, receives the news that he's Draco's mate. Law and custom don't give him the option of ignoring the news. The stages of his reaction, one by one.

Notes: This is not a romance, and I love that the author just casually chucks all the Veela tropes in the bin and says “nope”. In Lomonaaeren’s own words, this fic is more practical than romantic. Harry is unfamiliar with the Veela concepts and hates the very idea of being “shackled” to someone; he rejects Draco at once. Draco is miserable and lonely. They do eventually come to understand each other better, but it’s a huge struggle with lots of setbacks. The general air of pessimism and misery does make the small glimpses of compassion and empathy feel so well-earned. I love a fic that rations out its happiness.

-

The Stately Homes of Wiltshire (E) by waspabi

Summary: Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

Notes: This one needs no introduction. The writing is polished, the characterisation perfect, and the dialogue is fun. I love the humour woven throughout it.

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Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain (E) by faithwood.

Summary: It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

Notes: Another one that most of us know. It’s a lighthearted and fun read.

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Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow (M) by novembersnow

Summary: In the war-torn years after Hogwarts, one man has no knowledge of his yesterdays.

Notes: Another classic back in the feverish heyday of the Harry Potter fandom, when books were still being released and everyone had worked themselves up into a shipping frenzy. And no wonder this fic was an instant hit. Draco has lost all his memories and Harry’s investigating as an Auror, but the longer you read, the more you start questioning everything. Good twists and turns that lead to a tender ending.

-

Turn by Saras_Girl

Summary: One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Notes: An inevitable inclusion on any favourites list. I think my favourite thing about it is the characterisation. Everyone is so well-rounded; the characters are brought to life and feel like old friends. All their habits, styles, mannerisms, even the way they walk or talk. While I love everyone in this fic, I have to admit that Blaise is just amazing. Of all the thousands of Blaises imagined by fanfic writers, I love this one the best. “Old bean” indeed.

-

Under the Ivy (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: It is impressive how much you can learn about someone by simply sharing a few rooms. They don’t spend time together, not really, but Harry still knows that Malfoy prefers raspberry jam over strawberry, that he hums along to the Wireless when he thinks no one is around, and that his leg is bothering him more than usual when the temperatures drop below freezing.

Notes: Another old, old favourite of mine. It’s like snuggling into a soft blanket. Remus owns a cottage and Harry moves in after the war. Later, Remus lets a room to Draco, who is an outcast after the war and has limited housing options. Harry isn’t happy at first with the new lodger, but he eventually warms up to Draco. A slow and gentle romance.

-

Vale Sanare (M) by rurounihime

Summary: Draco’s world gains a new component, just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

Notes: London nightclubs, one-night-stands, loud music and lonely nights. Draco has seizures due to a curse from the war, and the seizures have led to a fear of intimacy. Short and sweet.

-

The Way Down (T) by lettered

Summary: Malfoy’s all, “Come out of there,” the way you say to a cat who is badly behaved. And Harry’s all like, “No, what, I’m a hermit! And I have a chest-monster! And I am crazy magically powerful!” and Malfoy’s all, “We all have problems, bub.” (thoughtfully) “You are crazy though. I’ll give you that.”

Notes: I just adore this fic. The fic starts well-grounded, giving you a solid backstory and matter-of-fact context, but as it goes on, it slowly unravels into dreamy scenes, lush settings, and repeated motifs. It’s just such a beautiful story.

-

When Love beckons to you, follow him (PG-13) by megyal

Summary: Draco wakes up, lost, somewhere in a forest. He has no idea where he is or how he got there. As he is blundering around trying to find his way home, he hears Harry's voice in his head, telling him what to do.

Notes: I generally like my fics to be bittersweet or with a bit of heartache — but this fic is just a little cloud of softness. If you need something light and lovely without being syrupy-sweet, this is a good choice!

-

The World of the Living (M) by fourth_rose

Summary: A traumatised war hero and a convicted criminal under the roof of an eccentric journalist make for a rather odd ensemble, but Luna has never had a problem with oddities as long as they make sense.

Notes: The story is told from Luna’s perspective, which gives everything a lovely dreamy quality. She takes in a couple of strays after the war — first Harry, who is avoiding his other friends and has quit his Auror job — and then she offers a room to Draco right after his trial. Draco is rude, angry, and ungrateful; Harry is churlish, withdrawn, and moody. Luna doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and over the course of the next few months, her house guests slowly warm up to each other.

-

Voices From the Fog (E) by noeon

Summary: After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

Notes: Harry drifts across Europe, trying to forget the war. He ends up in a woodworking shop in Amsterdam, alongside a moody Draco. Atmospheric settings and solid characterisation.

[darthmaulification]

Hey! Can I please make a request for a short Drabble where reader is Grogu’s nanny aboard the Razor Crest and Din develops a crush on her, but once he and the reader start visiting Grogu at Jedi School on weekends, Luke develops a crush as well? Doesn’t have to end up with either, but I would like to see either guy’s rivalry and slight jealousy (with Reader’s obliviousness).

A/N: ... okay so, i really got into the whole crush aspect of your request, anon, and this basically became a romantic prose piece. when i looked back to see what you had initially wanted, my product was... about thrice removed from the original prompt. 💀

i think i got some of the points??? like there’s din and luke and they’re both in love with reader and they both have a bit of rivalry with the other and basically that’s what matters??? please forgive me, anon, the ghost of sappho took my body over and forced me to write yearning love poetry!! 🙏 sis forced my hand!! 😭

though if there’s enough interest for it, i can always make a follow up for this, like from reader’s perspective, and write something a lil more in depth (once i get requests finished up that is). 😊

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: nothing but din and luke pining for reader, gn!reader (for the most part), use of she/her pronouns, fluff, but also a smidgen of angst 👁👁, perspective difference!!, kind of a commentary on mandalorian and jedi culture?? (mostly jedi culture lmao)

word count: 1,524

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now how your face lights up like candles being lit when his son succeeds at doing another one of his Jedi tricks. Joy illuminates your face like a spotlight, your soft cheers and kind praise make the whole room warmer. Din watches Grogu leap into your arms, cooing and squealing like he’s been given candy. It makes Din’s heart leap when you kiss his son on the head, and smile so warmly it’s like your lips become sunshine.

Din is infinitely grateful for his helmet in this moment, his face feels like it’s been too close to a fire. His fingers pick at a fraying stitch on his gloves, to prevent his hands from shaking in his lap. He hopes that the Jedi, who is standing casually across the room near you and Grogu, doesn’t notice. Din hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love. 

The sentence slips through the cracks of his thoughts the way a sunrise peeks over the horizon. You look over at him, holding up Grogu triumphantly in your hands like you would a prize, and he sucks in a breath because suddenly it feels like all he can see is you. You and Grogu, you and his son.

Please be my riduur.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Din forces himself to dip his head in a slight nod, because the Jedi is also looking at him with piercing blue eyes the color of the sky. His heart pounding, and when you laugh, and it sounds like summertime when everything is good and happy.

People love, he thinks as he stares at you, and suddenly his palms are sweaty and he feels the need to tap his foot, but Mandalorians love harder.

I dream about you every night, think about you when I lie awake. You’re always holding sunflowers, and the nightmares don’t touch me then.

Mandalorians love like there is nothing else in the universe more valuable, nothing more precious, not their vibroblades, their blasters, or even their beskar.

Giving up a blaster and a vibroblade in order to save you from that hut’uun came to me like breathing, I didn’t even think about it... I would’ve given up my beskar’gam too. I still would.

Mandalorians love with their souls laid bare, they love with their entire body, they love with sacred vows, exchanged beskar rings, their riduur’s name engraved on their hal’cabur, above their heart.

When you slept beside me one night, I whispered the entire marriage vow to you in Mando’a. You looked so peaceful bathed in the light of the moon, the silvery glow making you look holy. I’ll admit, it came out mostly accidentally, but it felt so normal, natural even. I wish you hadn’t been asleep.

Mandalorians love in spite of death, they love in the face of it. They love like warriors.

I had gotten shot. All I remember is you holding me in your arms, hands pressed over the wound. I was in pain, and you were crying, covered in blood and dirt, but you were so warm. I’m still unsure if I had actually said what I think I said:

“I care about you too much to leave you.”

He wants to tell you all of this, but he’s never been much of a romantic, or much of a speaker in general, so the words falter on his tongue each time he’s tried. And Din’s tried so many times. You say something to the Jedi, and it makes a sudden, surprising fury bubble in his chest, the vile rising to his throat. Din has to bite his tongue to hold back from shouting:

Don’t talk to her, di’kut jetii! You are undeserving of her words, of her time, of her presence. Unworthy! You can’t give her what I can, shabuir.

You look over at him again, and the hot anger dies completely, leaving him powerless before you. Din felt this way each time he’s tried to tell you how much you mean to him.

I love you, cyare.

It feels like your eyes are boring holes straight through his beskar, through his flight suit, singing his skin with their warmth. Din bites his cheek so hard he tastes copper.

You smile. It’s like the dawn.

You are the sun— His sun— of his universe, and his eyes burn from the light.

Din basks in the rays, and his heartbeat starts to slow to it’s normal, steady rhythm.

Tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow.

~

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now in how your entire expression blooms into one of pure joy when his padawan successfully levitates the crates. It radiates in your aura, the waves of mirth traveling further than your respectfully quiet cheers and meaningful praise. Luke watches as the child leaps into your embrace, babbling without forming any actual words. Something inside Luke lurches when you place a kiss on Grogu’s head, and when your vibrant smile dissolves his willpower.

Luke draws the Force in on himself, welcoming the sturdiness it brings. He tries to ignore how his palm has gotten sweaty, but he clenches his hand into a fist and hastily relaxes it. Focus, let in calmness like a breeze. Luke hopes that the Mandalorian, sitting stiff and looming on a far bench, doesn’t notice his moment of vulnerability. He pulls the Force closer, and hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love.

The thought springs up in his mind the way shoots of new grass breach top soil in spring time. You glance over at him as you lift the child, and the look is as quick and fleeting as blossoms on trees, but it floats in the Force like dandelion seeds, and Luke is painfully aware of how consuming you are.

Please don’t do this to me.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Luke catches your eye, offering you the smallest smile he can afford without it breaking. You look to the Mandalorian, and Luke follows your gaze because he can’t compel himself to do much else. The Mandalorian’s visor is dark like the night, and flashes when he nods his head. Luke feels his heart sink when he senses it from him, a yearning so deep he nearly drowns in it.

People love, Luke thinks and he feels all at once envious and angry and so achingly acquiescent, because Jedi cannot.

I swore by the Code years ago, but I look at you and doubt it all. It can’t be that I’m this willing to rethink everything.

Jedi are forbidden from having attachments, they cannot pursue romantic interests. Love leads to passion, and it all is an influence of the Dark. Luke knows this. He’s fallen to it before.

I’ve spent decades forgetting how deeply I cared for him! But I am reminded daily of my father, every time I look in the mirror, I see his eyes. How dare you pull me back into this cruel trap! I can’t do this again.

Luke contains himself. Jedi value peace of mind, they extend the sentiment to upholding it in the galaxy as well. They do not do it out of love, but out of obligation, out of honor, because of what’s right. They are not love.

When I first met you it was like I’d seen you before, in a past life. It was like retracing my steps, following the trail backwards, revisiting something I had passed. Despite it all, I had moved forward and took my padawan from you and the Mandalorian, plucked him from you like a petal off a flower. I watched you wilt.

Luke reminds himself. Jedi do not love. Focus is key. The Force is everything.

But you are too.

Luke has to swallow in order to make sure the words never reach his mouth, and it’s like eating thorns. You turn back to him and the look in your eyes is tender like butterfly wings. The pink in your cheeks reminds Luke of windflowers.

“Thank you again, Luke,” His soul shivers when his name sounds in your voice, “It’s so kind of you to teach Grogu.”

As he replies and tells you it’s a pleasure, he almost spills everything to you, but an abruptness shifts the energy of the room. There is a lurking anger that crawls at him through the Force, entwines him like ivies. The Mandalorian fumes, the wrath trembles like billowing leaves. Don’t. Undeserving. Unworthy.

Luke forces himself to agree and squashes down everything, pushing each painful emotion into the deepest parts of him. He watches you look to the Mandalorian, your aura flowers with affection, love.

I love you.

His resolve is fading, again. Luke reminds himself, again. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love.

You smile, and it stings his soul like nettle.

Luke forces himself to ignore that your eyes say different things when they settle on the Mandalorian than they had him. The thought feels like eating bittersweet berries.

Briefly, he revels in what could have been.

It’s for the best.

~

A/N: i thought i would add another note at the end of this to explain exactly what the heck i was saying with the word soup i just wrote.

first, din is so hopelessly in love with reader that it hurts. like physically makes his heart ache. i feel that when din falls in love, he falls in love. it consumes him. i wrote a lot of sun/light imagery to portray the overwhelming, all-encompassing love din feels for reader. you are the sun that warms him, and burns him. 

second, i purposely made luke have an even more tragic, even more conflicted crush on reader, on purpose, hahaha i am evil. 😈 he loves you, but forces himself not to. he tells himself that the jedi code means more. luke chooses to suffer because he knows that’s how it must be. there’s some plant/nature symbolism thrown throughout because that’s just the theme that i thought vibed with luke the most.

and that mention of anakin? i subscribe to the headcanon that luke really did love his dad, and just wanted him in his life, but of course, vader ultimately died. luke took a heavy blow from that, learned it hurts to love.

also, regarding the mini-rivalry that takes place, it’s through the force (if that wasn’t obvious) and it’s essentially another example of luke surrendering his own wants/desires and simultaneously din firmly declaring his love for you. it’s kinda meant to be the “understanding” between the two that clearly establishes who “wins” the reader.

... this was all one giant metaphor, huh?

[tomjamesavery]

Two Hearts one Soul

Written for the Ginnyversary Bingo with the prompt: #G49 — "When he lifted his head, she barely recognised him for the bruises." Read on: AO3 Harry felt possibly scandalous, as he was sneaking up the little winding gravel road that led to the Burrow. It was eleven pm on a warm July night and the moon and stars were lighting his way on this clear, cloudless evening.

It was quiet, except for some crickets and his footsteps on the gravel no sounds disturbed the evening silence.  Bathing in nature's beauty he relished the nightly atmosphere bestowed on him. Feeling confident under the moon's silvery gown he paced up his steps, now skipping up the little shallow hill toward tonight's goal. The little rustical six-storied wizarding cottage known as the Burrow.

But he wasn’t here for the architecture, if you could even name it that, he was here for something else, someone else. A flame in the dark, his burning light, the love of his life, Ginny.

After a few more minutes he finally arrived at the old building, now simply brandishing his wand, and out of thin air a tall wooden ladder appeared, leaning against the window frame on the third floor.

He climbed up his conjured walkway, trying not to make any more noise than necessary, it was at the end of the day in the middle of the night, and the last thing he wanted, was to wake up her entirely Weasley Clan.  Not that he didn’t like them, quite the opposite, he loved them, they were his second family in all but blood, but tonight he was only here for one of them, for her alone.

He finally reached the last step, his eyes now on the same height as the window, he knew she was waiting in there, as it had been her idea for him to come here tonight in the first place.

So he raised his right hand, trying to still keep his balance as he knocked on the thin glass window, three times, just as they had agreed on, not that it was of any importance, no one else would knock on a third-floor window in the middle of the night in a safe quiet little neighborhood.

He waited for a second, trying to keep still, even holding his breath so as to not sway too much on the flimsy wooden ladder.

Suddenly the window opened, catching Harry off guard as he stared into the chocolaty dark brown eyes of Ginny who was now sticking her freckled flushed face out of the window, kissing him on the lips sweetly before he could form a single thought in his head. 

It was like a million fireworks went off at once, the whole world seemingly coming to a standstill around just the two of them, and Harry felt like he could levitate.

Only that he couldn’t, quite the opposite, he wasn’t levitating, he was falling… …HE WAS FALLING.  And before he could think about it anymore he heard a muffled scream as he forcefully crashed into a tall rose bush Feeling the little thorns scrape at his skin he roughly landed on the wet cool dirt, the bush luckily feathering the worst of the fall.

“Harry! Are you alright?” He heard Ginny’s voice so full of worry, somewhere in the back of his head.

He groaned, lifting himself up to his knees, his ears ringing, everything hurt, but in a way, he knew none of the injuries were overly serious, he had gotten off lucky.

He felt tender hands grasp at his shoulders, pulling him up. So he lifted his head and looked into his girlfriend's worried eyes, they were wide open as she checked him over it seemed she barely recognised him for the bruises on his face.

“Harry, did you break something, where does it hurt, oh baby I am so sorry!” The words stumbled from Ginny’s mouth as she seemed plagued by guilt and worry.

But Harry didn’t want to worry her, if he wasn’t such a fool, he wouldn't have fallen in the first place, so he forced himself to his feet, pulling a gasping Ginny flush against his body, before simply kissing her deeply, all the pain in his body subsiding, becoming a mere afterthought, an anecdote buried under the mass of their blossoming love.

Ginny quickly melted into him, after her surprise had yielded to burning passion, she kissed him back with such force, he felt like an electrical current of pure light was flowing through them, connecting them, their magic dancing through each other's hearts as it harmonised their bodies, entangling their souls. They were one.

And as time stood still, neither of them noticed how the rose buds around them opened, blossoming into fire-red roses, growing under their light, spurred by their magic.

After they finally pulled apart, no scratch, no bruise, and no injury was left on Harry’s radiating body, mended through their unyielding love, where their magic had connected at once. 

He knew their love would prevail over their pain, always and forever.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 4: Jealousy

Draco had a jealous streak a mile wide. He always had, for as long as he could remember. His jealous streak had given him plenty of things; jealousy was an excellent motivator.

But his jealousy had never felt quite like this.

In the past, he'd been jealous of tangible things: attention, possessions, grades, etc. Lately, though, Draco had found himself becoming jealous over increasingly inexplicable things. Most (all) of those things having to do with Potter. He was jealous of the normal things, too, like people who casually touched him, or the way Weasley could make him laugh, or the attention he bestowed on Granger when she was talking about her latest campaign. In all honesty, there was nothing new about those things.

But one day, while they were in training together, Draco found himself jealous of the rain.

(More below the cut)

Jealous of the rain as he watched Potter tip his head back and spread his arms to accept it. Jealous of the way the rain was allowed to touch his skin, of the way Potter opened himself up to it and allowed himself to relax under its ministrations.

On the day they received their auror uniforms he found himself jealous of the clothes that the other man put on his body. Jealous of the way the trousers hugged his strong thighs, jealous of the way his robes stretched across his broad shoulders. Jealous of the closeness that Draco had never been afforded.

He found himself quite preoccupied one afternoon as they sat filling out paperwork, jealous of the pen that Potter kept sticking in his mouth. He was jealous of the absentminded caress of lips and tongue, of the sharp nip of his teeth.

At night he found himself jealous of not only the people whom Potter could, theoretically, be spending the night with but also of the thought of his pillows and sheets. Jealous of the way that Potter must allow himself to be completely vulnerable to them; glasses removed, face lax as he slept. Something in Draco surged with a fierce longing at imagining seeing Potter with all of his walls torn down.

He found himself jealous of the work they did. Jealous of the way it consumed Potter's attention, of the way that Potter poured everything he had, everything he was, into solving the crimes set before them.

Draco was jealous of the wind. Jealous of the way it tousled Potter's already messy hair, tugging the curls back from his face.

He'd even been jealous of Potter's own hand earlier that day. Jealous of the way Potter had folded his hands, fingers slotting between each other, as they sat across from their perpetrator. He'd ached to feel the incongruity of the tender skin between his fingers and the callouses on his fingertips and palms.

Most of all, though, Draco was jealous of the way that Potter seemed to be happy. Not because he didn't want Potter to be happy; he did want him to be happy, he deserved to be happy. But because Potter seemed to be happy without Draco and Draco wasn't sure that he would ever be happy without knowing the way that Potter tasted, knowing the way he smelled, knowing the way his muscles felt as they shifted under his palms. He didn't know if he could ever be happy without knowing what Potter looked like when his guard was down, or knowing how his voice sounded when he was completely relaxed.

"You're staring again," Weasley said, snapping Draco's attention back from where he'd been watching Potter as he fetched a round for the team of aurors who'd just wrapped up a very challenging case.

"I'm not," he protested. It was a lie and they both knew it.

Weasley narrowed his eyes at him, "You could just ask him out, you know."

"Why would I do that?"

He rolled his eyes, "So the rest of us can stop watching you pine after one another. It's distracting."

His heart clenched painfully, the way it always did when someone (usually Weasley, damn him) suggested that perhaps this wasn't as one sided as it felt like it was. Shaking his head, he replied, "He's not interested."

"How would you know?" Weasley asked. "I've been his best mate for almost our entire lives. I think I'd know better than you."

"Well, then maybe he should use a bit of the famous Gryffindor courage and ask me," he said with a haughty sniff as he took a sip of his firewhiskey.

Weasley rolled his eyes and was about to reply when Potter came over, levitating a dozen drinks in his wake.

After setting down the drinks on the table with an impressive display of control, Potter plopped down in the seat between Draco and Weasley. Draco watch jealously as Potter leaned against Weasley, pressing their shoulders together for a long moment as though he was drawing strength from the other man.

The table was loud and rowdy, nearly full of Gryffindors, and Draco wondered (not for the first time) how he'd managed to find himself almost constantly surrounded by their brash, obnoxious selves.

Potter was quiet next to him, as Draco had noticed he often was, listening to the others, laughing and sharing in their joy; quietly supporting and encouraging them to be their most authentic selves.

It always made Draco want to tell them all to shut up. To just be quiet for a minute and let Potter talk, let him be himself, because if he was being honest he wanted to know everything about Potter. He wanted to know what made him tick, what brought him joy, what made him weep, what made him laugh. He wanted to know why he chose to be an auror when he could have done anything. He wanted to know his favorite song, his favorite book, his favorite meal. He wanted to know everything.

When the desire to grasp Potter by the hand and make him tell him everything became too strong, Draco stood up (rather abruptly) and made his way out of the bar, muttering "cigarette" to the table as an excuse.

Outside, he leaned against the wall and lit up his cigarette, exhaling shakily as it caught. The warm summer breeze did him good, helped to settle his racing mind. He took a long, slow drag and held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, relishing the way it burned a bit and the way his slow inhale helped him to calm further.

Fuck Potter, fuck this, he thought sullenly. This was all getting out of hand, it was too much, even for him.

"Terrible habit."

Draco's head snapped around to see Potter leaning his shoulder against the wall a few feet from Draco, watching him intently. "You should get louder shoes," Draco commented, blowing a stream of smoke from his lips, "or a bell," he added, picturing the kind you tie around a cat's neck.

Potter laughed, free and unfettered, and Draco basked in it like sunlight. "Can I join you?" Potter asked.

Draco forced himself to take another drag of his cigarette before answering, it wouldn't do to sound too eager. "I suppose," he finally said.

"Can I bum a cigarette off you?" Potter asked next.

His eyebrows rose, "You smoke?"

The other man smiled, the soft, secret one that exposed his dimples. "Occasionally. When the company is right."

Draco handed him a cigarette but he couldn't even fully appreciate the comment when the company is right because Potter leaned in close to light his off of the tip of Draco's. He hardly dared to move, he tried not to inhale deeply enough to be noticed, but he could smell the other man. He could smell his cologne; earthy and woody, he could smell Potter's shampoo; faintly like apples, and the hint of something underneath that he couldn't quite place but made his mouth water just the same.

After a moment, Potter drew back and Draco watched as he inhaled the smoke and held it in his lungs for a moment. He had so many questions, so many things he was dying to know, instead he said, "You're always quiet."

"Sorry?" Potter asked, turning his head to look at Draco as he rested his back against the wall.

"Your friends-"

"They're your friends, too," Potter interrupted.

And oh, he was trying to be kind, trying to tell Draco that they counted him as one of them, his heart fluttered uselessly. "Fine, our friends," he conceded, "They're always so loud. And you listen to them, you know everything about them. You've kept every detail stored away in that funny little brain of yours."

"I wouldn't say every detail," Potter protested before putting his cigarette between his lips once more. It shouldn't be attractive, Draco thought to himself.

"But you're always quiet," Draco pushed. "You listen to everyone, know things about everyone, but you never talk about yourself."

Potter looked away, staring up at a lamp post for a long moment. He took another drag of his cigarette and Draco thought for a moment that he wasn't going to answer. "Who really wants to listen to me?" he murmured on an exhale.

I do! Draco wanted to scream. Instead he huffed, "Everyone does."

Potter's lips tipped up in what was supposed to be an approximation of a grin but there was no joy in it, "No they don't. They'd want to listen if I wanted to tell them about a date I'd gone on, or if I had a family to talk about, or if I'd just gotten a new crup, or if I'd done something good or brave, if I'd updated my kitchen, or taken up painting." He brought his cigarette to his mouth once more and didn't look back at Draco.

Draco waited. He was good at this, good at waiting for people to talk. Silence didn't bother him. It made him a very good interrogator.

After a moment, Potter continued, "No one wants to hear about how I can't always sleep at night. No one wants to hear about the memories, and the flashbacks, and the nightmares. No one wants to listen to me talk about all of the ways that everything that happened in the war feels meaningless when we're just dealing with the same bullshit day in and day out at the ministry. No one wants to hear me talk about how when I look at Teddy all I can think about is how he looks just like Tonks and has a mischievous streak as wide as Remus'. Everyone's moved on," he said. "Everyone has gotten on with their lives and no one wants to hear about how I am just..." he trailed off searching for a word, "trapped. In my grief, in all of the ways that I failed. No one wants to know that it feels like I'll never be able to atone for all of the hurt, for all of the death and suffering-" he broke off, his voice choked, and Draco watched as a tear tracked silently down his cheek.

"I do," Draco whispered because he had to. Because Harry had been brave and vulnerable, and Draco owed him this much. "I do," he repeated.

Harry looked over at him, and his forest green eyes laid Draco bare. "Why?"

He lifted one shoulder, "because," he paused and swallowed, "because you're not alone in feeling so many of those things," he started. "Because you deserve to feel heard, to feel seen, to feel known. Because what you have to say matters."

"To who?"

And Draco recognized this question for what it was. He understood that Harry was not really asking who but why. He was asking if what he had to say mattered because he was "the Savior" or "the Chosen One" or did what he had to say matter because he was Harry, just Harry.

"To me," Draco said finally, knowing it was tipping his hand. "What you have to say matters to me. I want to know you, Potter. Harry."

Harry was quiet for a long moment, looking at Draco, searching him and Draco very much hoped he would find whatever he was looking for.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry said, "I want to know you, too, Draco."

Draco couldn't have stopped the grin that spread across his face if he'd tried, and he did try, so he settled for looking down at the ground to hide it.

"I like your smile," Harry said softly.

"Oh?" Draco replied.

Harry nodded, "I like a lot of things about you," he said, soft like a confession.

"I like a lot of things about you, too," Draco admitted.

"Would you maybe want to go and get some coffee?" Harry asked. "Or go somewhere quieter than here so we could talk?"

"I would like that very much," Draco replied. "There's a little muggle coffee shop a few blocks from my flat that stays open until 3:00am?" he offered.

Harry dropped the stub of his cigarette on the pavement and ground it out with his boot, "Lead the way," he said, gesturing to the sidewalk.

Draco nodded once, his stomach tumbling and bubbling like a cauldron set too hot, and he set off toward his flat.

He'd only taken a few steps when he felt Harry's fingers slide through his.

"Alright?" Harry asked softly.

Draco squeezed his fingers, "Better than," he replied, giving Harry a little smile. Grinning because he supposed, with Harry's hand in his, he had one less irrational thing to feel jealous of.

Day 3: Agility | Day 5:Possessiveness

[cheesyficwriter]

You are amazing! Your smut is amazing! Can you please write prompt “I’m so proud of you.” with a very emotional sex scene afterwards? Bonus points if it‘s a canon setting with Hermione praising Ron for something he has done 😍 Thank you so much😘

Hi there, anon! Thanks for the compliment 😊 I hope this Ron POV drabble gives you all the feels! It's a little steamy, but hopefully mostly sweet 💜

My Gryffindor

“It’s okay, Hermione, just a dislocated shoulder. Nothing a little Skelegro couldn’t fix!”

“That’s a pretty cavalier thing to say about your life, Ron!”

Ron couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his face. There was something about the way Hermione fussed over him that warmed his heart. He often loved riling her up, although he knew it didn’t always bode well for him in the end.  

He leaned even further into his girlfriend’s side, impressed by how she was, quite literally, carrying all of their weight as they took careful steps towards the sofa. Ron eased himself down onto the cushions, wincing in pain as his tender shoulder collided with the armrest. 

“Ron! You’re supposed to be taking it easy — not just throwing your body around like you’re on your broom!”

“Relax, woman, it was an accident,” Ron mumbled, making a very conscious attempt to roll his eyes in a subtle way so that she didn’t notice. One look at the expression on her face told him that she didn’t care for his comment about her relaxing — best not to pet the cat that was already hissing. 

Hermione stomped out of the room, returning only a few moments later cradling an assortment of vials in her hands. She placed them in an organized fashion on the table next to the sofa before retrieving her wand. With a swish and flick she levitated a piece of parchment over and scanned the contents of the letter. 

“You’ll be on a very strict potion regimen for a week, and the healers said that you’d need to keep your shoulder as still as possible. Which means no disapparating, no flooing, and absolutely no flying!”

Ron sighed as he watched Hermione scurry about the room for a few more minutes, busying herself with mundane tasks, before he finally called out to her. 

“Hermione, love? Come sit down, please.”

His tone wasn’t demanding, but it also wasn’t as warm as it could’ve been. However, it was enough for Hermione to pause her to-do list and make the hesitant walk over to him. She sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, giving him a wary glance. 

Ron was frustrated by the amount of distance she put between them, and wriggled himself close enough to her so that he could take her hand. “What’s really going on here?” 

Hermione’s eyes welled up with tears, and Ron was now on high alert. Although he figured she was frustrated with him over his close escape from death, he didn’t want to see her cry over it. 

He never wanted to see her cry. 

“I-I missed you so much, and when I got the Patronus—” Hermione hiccuped, burying her face into her hands as her body shook with quiet sobs. 

His gut twisted in all sorts of directions, almost making him ill. He understood exactly how she was feeling. If he ever got a Patronus that her life had been put in danger like that….he swallowed hard. It was best not to think about it, for he was sure he would go mad. 

“C’mere.”

Ron opened his one free arm, and she tucked her warm body into his in an instant. He kissed the top of her head, keeping his nose buried in her curls. She smelled like Hermione and he felt as if he could finally breathe after an intense day. “S’alright, love. I’m here now.”

Ron rubbed her shoulder, tracing a pattern of freckles that resembled a heart along her skin. They sat in deep stillness for several minutes, finding peace in each other’s arms. 

“I shouldn’t have gone into the field without back-up. I was stupid.”

Hermione lifted her head, placing a hand on his cheek forcing him to look her straight in the eye. “Don’t do that —  don’t say that about yourself. I may be so incredibly furious right now, but the emotion I’m feeling the most at the moment is pride. I am so proud of you, Ron Weasley.” 

Ron’s own eyes glistened with tears, and he blinked to dispel them. He would never tire of hearing Hermione say that she was proud of him. 

“You showed immense courage and bravery out there. And despite the huge chunk of my heart that leaves with you every time you step through that fireplace over there, I will never stop being proud of you." Hermione placed a hand over his heart, never breaking their gaze.

"A true Gryffindor. My Gryffindor.”

He was the luckiest sod on the planet. 

Ron tangled his fingers into her curls, and brought their heads closer. “I love you so much.”

Hermione nuzzled her nose against his. “I love you more than you love chocolate frogs and Quidditch combined!" 

Ron raised his eyebrows, a slow grin spreading across his lips. “Really? That much, huh?”

Hermione only nodded, and her eyes fell to his lips as he watched her tongue dart out to lick her own. 

All of the blood pumped straight to his core, and he wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. 

Hermione must've seen the desire in his eyes, and she started shaking her head. “Ron, we can’t. The healers said—”

Ron pushed Hermione's long curls behind her shoulders, giving him free access to her neck. His lips pressed soft kisses along her skin, making Hermione roll her head back in pleasure. He knew she was caving already. 

“Fuck what the healers said. I’ll deal with any pain coming my way, but what I can’t deal with is not having you in my arms for a second longer.”

Ron's words must have lit a fire underneath her, and before Ron could even process what was happening, she swung one leg over his body to straddle his hips. 

Ron groaned at the pressure against his very evident arousal in his trousers, his possessive hands flying back to cup her bum. 

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?" Hermione whispered as she nibbled on his ear. 

Hermione tightened her arms around his neck, and the friction between them was maddening. As his hands traveled north and south along the curves of her body, he knew he never wanted to relinquish the sensation of being consumed by her. 

Without answering, Ron sealed her mouth with a kiss, hoping that he could show her instead. 

He loved her, and she loved him, and all he wanted to do was to show her — in every single way. 

Clothes shed, and breaths intertwined, they were soon joined together. As Hermione moved on top of him, he was filled with an emotion he could only describe as bliss. 

The love he felt for the amazing witch in his arms was all-encompassing. He knew, without any doubt or a single thought of hesitation, that the ring he had hidden in his wardrobe was meant for her. 

As they let go together, and Ron spotted the passion behind her eyes, he was content, for now, knowing that he was home from his mission. 

He was home because that's where Hermione was. His Gryffindor.  

[fanficimagery]

Surprise! It’s a Girl.

Imagine finding out you're not who you've been led to believe you are. You're not Y/N Y/L/N; you're Y/N Potter. But one particular wizard was against you reuniting with your little brother when you found out just who he was. In the end, you're determined to see him even if it means fighting in a war where a Dark Lord would see your brother dead.

Words: 7.2K Warnings: This is a very brief Marvel/HP crossover and some characters who've died in HP will not be dead in this. I'm a sucker for a few wizards that didn't make it to the see the end of the war. Luckily for me, I can make that happen ;) So with that said, let's just jump right into it. You might be confused, but you'll learn what's happened when Reader explains it to Harry and friends.

Also timelines? What are those? Lol.

Sitting atop the roof of the Sanctum Sanctorum, you're in the middle of meditating when someone clears their throat in order to get your attention. Everyone knows better than to interrupt meditation time unless it's an emergency, so instead of getting angry you crack open an eye to see what's going on.

The Sorcerer Supreme stands before you, his cloak of levitation clasped around his neck and expression carefully guarded as he stares down at you. "I believe it's time."

Those four words are enough to freeze the air in your lungs and bring chaos to your previously emptied mind. On the outside, however, you keep your composure as you slowly stand. "Are you sure?"

"I am." He nods. "I was keeping an eye on things overseas and extremely powerful wards went up not too long ago. However," he adds, "they're in the process of being torn down by the man who wishes the last of your family dead."

You shakily inhale and tersely nod. "I have to go then."

"You do. Go get changed and then meet me back up here. I have a parting gift for you."

Fleeing the rooftop and back inside the Sanctum, you rush towards your room and throw apologies over your shoulders when you accidentally run into people. Then when you get to your room you immediately start to disrobe and pull on the outfit that's been laid out on your bed. The spandex leather pants are easy to maneuver around in, but the red bustier vest that laces up the front is a little off-putting. You are, however, grateful for the red leather coat that goes over it and the fingerless gloves that make you feel less naked. You zip up black knee-high boots and then rush back towards the rooftop where the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth is still awaiting you.

"You'll be going in blind, Miss Potter. You must remember that." You gulp and nod, and mentally urge the Sorcerer Supreme to hurry up and get his warning speech done and over with. "You'll have to be careful when deciding who's friend and who's foe, and be extremely careful that those fighting for your brother don't mistake you for the enemy."

"I know. From what I've read about Deatheaters, they'll most likely be the most deranged looking of the bunch. Also they were dumb enough to let themselves be branded so it shouldn't be too hard to figure out who's who."

"Very well." The Sorcerer Supreme, whose hands had been clasped over his abdomen, puts his right hand forward and then turns it over. "I believe you'll need this. You've earned it." In his palm is what every sorcerer in training calls a Sling Ring- a two finger ring which can open portals to anywhere in the world.

You gasp, but slowly reach forward and grab the bronzed piece of jewelry. Slipping it over your left index and middle fingers, you smile at it before looking back up at the man who had taken you under his wing at the tender age of sixteen. "Thank you, Sorcerer Supreme."

Faintly smiling at you, he says, "I took you in during your rebellious phase and made you into a proper young witch. I believe you can call me Stephen, Miss Potter."

"Then it's Y/N. None of this Miss Potter business anymore." You both chuckle at one another, but then the seriousness of the situation you're about to walk into sinks in. Your smiles both fall and then you're looking towards a spot on the roof where it's empty.

"I got it this time," Stephen says. Raising his left hand and then outstretching his right to trace a circular pattern mid-air, you watch as a portal sparks to life and grows bigger and bigger until it's big enough for a person to fit through. Instead of seeing the New York skyline through the portal, you see a darkened courtyard with various witches and wizards torn between looking at you and looking at something in the sky. "Be safe. Let me know when it's over."

"Yes, sir." You step through the portal, raising your hands when a couple of wands are pointed in your direction. Glancing over your shoulder lets you know the portal has now been closed and you inhale slowly to gather you wits.

"Who are you?" A rather severe looking woman asks, her Scottish accent making you faintly grin. The shorter, redheaded woman at her side narrows her eyes.

"My name is Y/N Potter." And that- that gives them pause and causes their eyes to widen. "My story is a long one- one I'll gladly explain after this war is over. All you need to know right now is that I fight for Harry. I fight for my little brother."

"It's a trick!" The redhead shrilly remarks. "It has to be. We are Harry's only family."

You shake your head. "Lady, I swear upon my magic that I'm telling the truth. I was taken and then forbidden from contacting my brother by Albus Dumbledore when I found out who I was. I was learning to manifest my magic without a wand when I heard of his death, but by the time I tracked down Harry he had gone on the run."

"Albus would never-"

"Molly," the other woman cuts her off, her wand slowly lowering, "she looks like Lily."

Still in denial, Molly shakes her head. "No, Minerva. It can't be."

"We can talk all night, ma'am, but I rather help you defeat this threat. After we win this war, I'll answer anything and everything you have for me. You can take my memories, you can pour Veritaserum down my throat. I am who I say I am. I am the eldest child of Lily and James Potter."

The redhead continues to stare you down before her own wand starts to lower. She huffs. "Very well. But if I see you harm one person from the Light, I will hex you."

Your lips twitch. "Fair enough." The brief reprieve, however, is short lived. There's a thundering explosion, followed by eerie silence, and then what looks like blue ash falling down upon your heads.

Minerva gulps. "The wards have fallen. Prepare for battle."

Rolling your shoulders, you step so your feet are shoulder's width apart. "Ma'am, I've been preparing a while for this." Your hands glow red and both women's eyes widen at the sight.

Thundering footsteps has you turning towards a bridge being protected by what appears to be stone statues, and the appearance of giants rushing ahead of hollering witches and wizards churn your stomach. Some of those witches and wizards seem to jump into the air, their bodies twisting into balls of smoke as they fly overhead. So concentrating on them since they appear to be flying towards the school, you alternately flick your hands upward, aiming red orbs at each deatheater you can to stun them out of the sky.

Then when there appears to be too many to hit at once, you allow your magic to pool in your hands before raising your arms, throwing up a red net of magic and capturing several deatheaters at once before slamming them towards the ground.

"Filius!" Minerva screams.

Looking towards where the distraught witch is staring, you watch as a small wizard tries to outrun a giant swinging around a quidditch loop as a weapon. Eyes widening, you reach out with your glowing left hand and envelop the small wizard with your magic, slowly pulling back your left arm while erecting a shield with your right hand behind the wizard's back to protect him from ricocheting spells and debris.

The wizard yelps as you bring him in a little too quickly, but you manage to carefully set him down. He wobbles on his feet and stares up at you in wonder. "T-Thank you."

You grin down at him. "No problem." Then looking at Minerva, you ask, "Where do you want me?"

But Minerva is looking at you in awe herself, so it's Molly who says, "Inside. Protect the children."

"I'll do my best."

More deatheaters take flight overhead, and when you hear glass shatter and screaming children all bets are off. Your hands glow even redder and you briefly raise your hands before thrusting them downward, projecting your magic towards the ground so it'd propel you into flight. You make your entrance through a shattered window, using your magic to soften your landing before stunning deatheaters left and right. Though the second you see a deatheater cast the killing curse at kids younger than you, you switch up tactics and don't bother feeling any remorse when your spells make precise gashes that leave the deatheaters gasping for breath before collapsing in a pool of their own blood.

Other curses you fling around wrap chains around deatheaters, cause thousands of tiny nicks, or fling them into the nearest hard surface to knock them unconscious. Or worse, but you don't really care at the moment. And if you don't have an enemy of your own to fight, you're erecting shields to protect the students from being cursed themselves.

Majority of the kids, however, seem to know what they're doing so you run around the castle to see where aid is needed.

You come across two wizards who are fighting back to back, the shorter and darker haired wizard laughing and trying to reminisce with the taller and sandy brown haired wizard as the deatheaters start to outnumber them. You don't think before throwing a large red orb at a group of three deatheaters, knocking them unconscious as they're flung a good ten feet away. Then gathering enough magic for another orb, you fling it towards the other group of five deatheaters. When they fall, the two wizards stare at you in surprise.

You meet their gazes head on, something about the man with three scars running diagonally across his face almost familiar to you. But now is not the time to wonder about all that, so you merely grin. "You're welcome. In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on. Try to keep up, yeah?" Then without another word, you take off and leave the two wizards staring after you and wondering why you yourself were so achingly familiar to them.

Dodging curses and flinging random spells of your own at unsuspecting deatheaters, you come upon another set of wizards being outnumbered by deatheaters yet again. Only these two could pass for brothers and one is cracking a joke about the deatheater he's dueling while the other one is hilariously proud of him for finally unknotting his wand.

There's a split second of distraction on their part, but that split second is all one angry deatheater needs.

"BOMBARDA!"

"Watch out!" You manage to throw up a red barrier behind the two laughing wizards' backs just in the nick of time.

You catch the exploding wall from crumbling on them, but at the cost of suddenly putting yourself under a magical strain that has you barely being able to hold the wall of debris at bay. You're struggling, hoping the two wizards collect themselves fast enough to have the smarts to move out of the way, only to end up distracted and take some sort of hex to your right side. The searing heat makes you scream out, your concentration breaking and the wall dropping. Thankfully, the two wizards you had saved jump back into action to dispatch the deatheaters before checking on you.

"That was a bloody close call," the taller redhead muses. "We owe you one, love."

You smile through the pain, your left hand reaching across your stomach to hold the wound on your right side. "Don't mention it."

The second redhead stares curiously at you. "How did you do that? I've never seen magic performed like that without a wand."

"Aw come on, Perce!" The previous redhead chuckles, slinging an arm around this so-called Perce's shoulders. "Turn that brain of yours off for mo'. A pretty bird just saved our arses." You smile sheepishly, mentally cursing yourself for blushing. The talkative redhead wiggles his eyebrows and you huff in amusement at him. "I'm Fred Weasley, by the way. And this is one of my older brothers Percy."

"Y/N. Y/N Potter." Both wizards freeze, their expressions falling and you hesitantly grin. "Yep. I'm exactly one of those Potters that you're thinking about."

Percy blinks first. "Impossible. The Potters only had one child."

"Surprise," you muse. "It's a girl!" When neither wizard reacts, you exhale tiredly. "I only found out I was a Potter when I was sixteen. I tried to get in contact with Harry, but I was prevented from doing so. However, I'm here now and I don't plan to let the same dark wizard who killed my parents and ruin my life now kill my little brother. We have loads to catch up on and I'll be damned if I let some arsehole off Harry before I have the chance to meet him."

Fred appears as if he's going to say something, but an eerie ringing fills your ears. Your hands fly up to hold your ears as if that'll stop the noise, but when you stumble back into a wall and glance up you see that Percy and Fred are affected as well if their grimaces and terrified expressions are anything to go by.

"You have fought valiantly, but in vain." The hissing voice that enters your mind makes gooseflesh break out up and down your arms, your eyes widening in horror when you realize who it is. "I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity." You choke back a sob, not used to having someone violate your mind as such. "Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you." But that- that catches your attention and forces you to pay attention. "On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman, and child who tries to conceal you from me."

When your mind is completely silent once more, you lower your hands and stare at the two wizards before you. "Please tell me Harry isn't dumb enough to confront this psycho." Fred and Percy stay quiet, but they share a nervous glance at one another. You curse. "I need to find him."

"Everyone will be gathering in the Great Hall," Percy says. "We'll take you there and have you looked at."

He gestures to your side and when you glance down you can see a rather sleek looking stain running down your thigh. "Oh."

Your knees seem to give then, but Fred is quick to catch you. "There, there," he chuckles. "I know I'm handsome, but you can't swoon until you've met my twin."

You shakily smile. "You mean there's two of you? How does your mum survive?"

Fred laughs as Percy shakes his head. "By loads of threats and hexes. Now come on, we need to regroup."

Fred and Percy manage to maneuver your arms around the back of their necks as they help you walk now that you're starting to feel the effects of blood loss. There are many dead witches and wizards, and it hurts your heart to see so many young faces among them. The others are bloodied and beaten, but all are doing their best to help their peers.

When you walk into the Great Hall, it's an even worse sight. Bodies are being dragged in and laid out to be checked over, and kids are breaking down over everything that's happened. Fred and Percy continue to lead you towards a specific spot, and it takes you a moment to realize that the wizards are leading you towards a clearly distraught Molly. She's checking over a young redheaded girl before moving onto the next redhead, and it's Fred's nearly identical twin that spots you three first. The relief on his face is heartbreaking and you politely extricate yourself as the family rush over to reunite.

"Hey, mum," Fred says after everyone's been checked over by their fussing mother. "Y/N found us and took a hex while saving our bums. I think she needs a healing spell. Or three."

"A blood replenishing potion would be nice," you mumble before drowsily dropping onto a bench.

Molly rushes over to you while Fred and Percy obviously fill in the others, and the redheaded girl's eyes widen after hearing something they say before she rushes to help her mum. She quickly introduces herself as Ginny and you smile as best as you can while Molly waves her wand up and down you.

"I need your coat and shirt off, dearie."

You grimace and open your jacket so she can see your top underneath. "I'm afraid I'll have to get naked for that, ma'am."

Molly purses her lips before glancing at her daughter. "Ginny, transfigure Y/N a shirt please." She then turns to the men of her family. "Boys, I'm going to need you all to give us some room."

Your heart warms as Molly conjures a privacy curtain and gestures for you to step behind it. You do and then proceed to strip out of your jacket. When you struggle with your top, Ginny vanishes it with a sheepish smile and averts her gaze as she quickly hands you a shirt. You put it on, but then Molly is there at your side to lift it to see the gash on your right side. She tuts.

"I'll be right back. I'll have to go see if Madam Pomfrey has any potions for this."

"Wait," you tell her. "Just a blood replenisher will do. I can take care of this." She opens her mouth to retort, but you let your hand glow in front of her. "Different, remember? I can close the wound myself."

Ginny stares in awe as you hold your shirt up with one hand, your other hand hovering above your wound as your fingers dance in an intricate pattern so your magic closes the gash. Once done, you nod at Molly and she huffs in amusement before turning. Then with a flick of her wand, the privacy curtain vanishes and she scuttles off to go see about that potion. Ginny guides you to a bench, but just as you take a seat there's two wizards stumbling towards you. They're the first set of men you saved, one with shaggy dark hair and the other with sandy brown hair, and they're staring at you in clear disbelief.

"Lily?"

You frown just as all the Weasley's freeze. "I'm sorry?"

The dark haired wizard blinks, shaking his head clear. "I'm sorry, love. You just reminded me of-"

"Cub?"

Your gaze darts to the sandy haired wizard now, his shorter companion shaking his head. "Come on, Moony. I think we hit our heads a little too hard."

Cub. Moony. The nicknames strike a chord within you, but you're not exactly sure why. Your brow furrows as you try to pinpoint a dream- or was it a memory?- and between one blink and the next it hits you. "Paddy." You utter in awe as you eye the dark haired wizard, watching as he gapes at you. Slowly standing, you then look at the other wizard. "Uncle Moony. I- I remember you. I think. Toy broom. Broken vase. Accidental.. fire?"

The one you had called Paddy snorts and Moony exhales in disbelief. "H-how?"

"Dumbledore," you immediately answer. "But.. I dreamt that, didn't I? You- I'd have been too little to remember anything."

"No, Cub. You didn't." Moony steps forward and gently touches your face in awe. "Sirius and James, your dad, thought it was a good idea to get you a toy broom. You flew into a vase, broke it, and let loose some accidental magic when your mum started shrieking at them."

"That was a mighty big fire. Remus almost soiled his trousers."

Sirius and Remus. Yes, that sounded awfully familiar.

The tears come without warning and you fling yourself at them, content to find yourself sandwiched between the two wizards. They're more shocked than anything, so after a moment the Weasley's step forward.

"So she really is Harry's sister?" Fred asks. Sirius and Remus nod. "Blimey. We now have two Potters to keep an eye on."

"Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen," an older red headed wizard steps forward, someone you assume to be the Weasley father, "but how did you not know Miss Potter was still alive?"

"Dumbledore," they both say.

"I was obviously thrown into Azkaban," Sirius says. "None of my questions were answered when I asked about the children."

"We didn't even ask to see the bodies," Remus mumbles. "We just took Dumbledore's word for it. And since Harry was too small to remember, we never brought up the memory of Y/N since no one would have known of her." You take turns hugging each wizard, lingering a little longer with Remus. When he pulls out of the big, he smiles down at you. "You look like your mum."

"And you," you reach up to gently trace one of his scars, "got old." Sirius guffaws and when you finally turn around, it feels as if all the wind is sucked out of your lungs.

"You're here." Harry says as stands before you, covered in blood, sweat and dirt.

Everyone seems to hold their breath, taking a step back as you and Harry stare at one another. You blink. "You know who I am?"

He numbly nods. "Only from Snape's memories. He wanted me to know what he knew before he died. He was not happy with Dumbledore's decision after he found out you were alive and sent to America." He pauses just to stare and you sheepishly smile, then the two of you are lunging for one another. Arms wrapped around each other, you bite back a whimper when your side twinges with phantom pains. Seconds tick by and then you hear him ask, "Walk with me?"

You nod, afraid to speak and your voice crack with emotion. Side by side, you follow Harry just outside the Great Hall where a witch and wizard stare in surprise but keep their distance. Your brother quickly informs you that they're his best friends Ron and Hermione.

"It took me a long while, Harry, but I finally caught up with you," you say as he finally stops.

He huffs a quiet laugh. "You did." He then turns so he's standing right in front of you, his hands reaching for yours and holding on gently. "I'm just sorry it has to be so short lived."

Your expression falters at his words. "What?" He lets you go, stepping back with a mumbled apology. "No." Immediately you know what he plans to do and you stumble forward to attempt to catch him. "No, you're not turning yourself over."

"I have to."

"No. I'll- I'll go with you!" You start to cry again, chest aching. You just found your little brother; you can't lose him so soon.

Harry smiles sadly, a lone tear falling down his cheek. "I'm sorry. Ron and Hermione will watch over you until I get back."

"Please don't." Harry backpedals quickly now, giving you his back so he can take his leave. You try to follow, but your vision swims and the room seems to tilt. You collapse, blinking rapidly to clear your vision. "No. No, Harry." You cry some more, reaching out for your brother. "Please don't leave me."

Harry's steps falter but he pushes on and the moment he disappears from view you scream out in anguish. There seems to be a pressure on your chest, but that pressure seems to lessen as you scream. You're barely coherent enough to see a faint wisp of red shoot out from you in every direction, and are conscious long enough to hear someone mutter bloody hell before passing out.

          - - - - - - - - - -

You jolt awake, but you're not sure what's woken you. As you blink up at the ceiling, you realize it's eerily quiet. So letting your head lull to the side, you blink against the brightness of the room and realize you're alone. You're alone with the dead.

Sitting up with a groan, you glance around to see that everyone is gone. But there are voices.. and laughter? Instantly, an uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

Shakily standing, you walk as fast as you can towards the entrance to the Great Hall and swallow down the bile trying to creep it's way up your throat. You stumble out the front enterance, shoving passed the small gathered crowd. Someone's giving a speech and across the courtyard there is a sea of black and- and you're going to be sick. The bald, gray skinned man must be who attempted to end the Potter line so long ago. Voldemort.

"Y/N. Y/N, wait!"

With the sea of deatheaters, just off to the side of them, there seems to be a half giant carrying a body. A body which is wearing suspiciously familiar clothing. Hands catch you by the arms, holding you back when you realize who it is the half giant is carrying, and your knees buckle. You whimper, but the voices on either side of you attempt to soothe you. When you chance a glance at them, you realize it's Fred and George.

Voldemort asks for the Light to pledge their loyalty to him, but only a single wizard stumbles forward. Neville Longbottom, he says his name is, and even as the deatheaters make fun of him the boy manages to give a heartwarming speech about none of their friends or family dying in vain. But as the hurt and sadness ebbs away, rage takes its place.

You can feel a pressure in your chest forming again and the hands on you fall away with hisses of pain. It seems as if you have tunnel vision as you stumble forward, Neville's speech falling on deaf ears. You can hear whispers of awe all around, but you only have eyes for Voldemort as his manic smile slowly starts to fall upon seeing you. Neville pulls free a sword from a crumpled hat, but still you stumble forward.

Your wrists are slowly rotating now and you sneer as Voldemort's followers seem to stare at you with trepidation. "You took everything from me," you grit out.

Voldemort starts to smile upon hearing the pain in your voice. "My dear, I don't even know who you are."

"You will." Debris from the half demolished castle starts to gather all around you as if being pulled by a magnet, forming two large balls of concrete on either side of you. Then with a deep breath, you feel the ground beneath your feet vanish as everyone around you gasps in surprise. "You were always going to die by the hands of a Potter. It's just too bad it couldn't have been my brother who ended you."

"Potter," Voldemort hisses angrily.

"In the flesh."

You slowly raise your hands, the balls of debris rising higher, but before you can catapult them Harry is dropping from the half-giant's arms. You feel your magic waver at the sudden relief that washes over you, but then Harry's firing a spell at a giant snake and Voldemort is firing back at him. There's cheering and then before the deatheaters can start fleeing, you fling the balls of debris at them one after the other.

You fall back to your feet, erecting shields to cover the backs of the witches and wizards rushing back into the castle. Then once back into the school all bets are off and all your hexes turn deadly. But your rage clouds your ability to multitask and you don't see the deatheater creeping up on you in time. Chains wrap around your throat, wrapping tighter and tighter as your fingers claw to pull it off. There's crazed laughter somewhere behind you and you don't even have the opportunity to see who was responsible before the chains loosen and they are being pulled off.

"There, there, cub. You're alright now." As you're pulled to your feet, relief floods you at the sight of Remus. "It's going to be okay." You're quick to hug him, crying softly as the side of your face presses against his chest.

A battle cry pulls your and Remus' attention towards it, and you watch as Neville beheads the large snake you had seen Harry firing spells at earlier. It seems to go quiet inside the castle after that, the deatheaters lowering their wands in shock. A moment later a cheer erupts from outside and the remaining deatheaters inside hiss as they clutch at their inner arms before fleeing altogether. Luckily, some are detained before they can go anywhere.

"Did we- did we just win?"

"Yeah, cub. I think we just did."

"Remus!" The two of you turn towards the joyous shout and you quickly step back when a woman throws herself into his arms. You smile at the reunion, heart aching at the relief and joy in your uncle's features as he hugs the woman tightly before sharing a chaste kiss with her.

Afterwards, he pulls back and turns towards you. The woman follows his gaze and she smiles kindly. "Tonks, I want to introduce you to the Potters eldest child." She gasps. "My goddaughter Y/N. Y/N, this is my wife Tonks."

You smile sheepishly. "Hullo."

"Another Potter," she breathes in awe. "Wicked."

You watch as her mousy brown hair turns a vibrant pink and you laugh as you gesture to it. "I think that's pretty wicked."

"You think so?" She muses. "Our son has the same ability and he's only a day old."

"Your son?" Your now widened eyes dart to Remus. "You have a son and you're still here?! Go!"

"Y/N.."

"No. Don't," you say. "I'm home, Moony. For good. Go to your son while I go find my brother. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay." He steps forward to hug you. "I'll see you soon."

"Yes you will."

After Remus lets go, his wife Tonks steps in and hugs you as well. Surprised, you laugh and return the brief embrace. "See you soon, kid. Can't wait to get to know you."

"You as well," you say.

As the couple takes their leave, all you can do is look around at the demolished school and the witches and wizards as some of them have a meltdown. You spot a couple of the Weasleys celebrating the win as Molly looks on with a smile she's quick to smother when her sons point it out. Then heading for the entrance, your shoulders sag in relief when you spot Sirius coming in.

"Paddy!" Your shout garners his attention and you quickly make a beeline for him. "Have you seen Harry?"

"Yeah, pup. He's out on the bridge."

"Thanks." You quickly lean up and kiss his cheek. "We'll catch up later."

Making your way outside, your heart aches at seeing the ruins of what was clearly a magnificent school. You spot the bridge Sirius spoke of and spy your brother tossing something across the open air, only to fall down and be lost forever. His friends Ron and Hermione spot you first, the two of them offering you smiles as you approach.

Harry turns and smiles upon seeing you- a smile which you return, but then your expression goes lax as you slap at his arms one hit after the other. "If-" Hit. "You-" Hit. "Ever do that again.."

"Blimey, she really is a Potter."

"Ron, shush!"

"Hey. Hey!" Harry is quick to defend himself, catching you by the wrist so you stop hitting him. "I'm okay. It's over."

Your chest is heaving, your breathing stuttering as a sob threatens to break free. Tears silently fall before the fight drains out of you and you throw your arms around your little brother's neck. "I just found you, you dunghole. You're not allowed to die first."

Harry chuckles. "I'll do my best." As he pulls out of the hug, his hands remain on your biceps as he grins. "Did you know your eyes glow when you're angry?"

You frown, but before you can answer his friend Hermione is speaking up. "About that.. how is it your magic manifests like that without a wand? Earlier when Harry left to meet Voldemort, you fell to your knees in grief and there was- well it was like-"

"An explosion," Ron says. "Made me and 'Mione stumble some. We had to carry you back into the Great Hall where Remus and Sirius nearly lost it."

You cringe. "Sorry about that. I, uh, I actually used to have a wand until the MACUSA snapped it."

"They what!?" Harry asks incredulously.

"Yeah. School-aged Americans are quite savage," you huff. When the other three don't crack even the smallest of grins, you sigh and explain. "I got picked on quite a lot, but it was never anything that caused harm. Just some stupid pranks that embarrassed me," you say. "When I was sixteen, the pranks turned harmful. Two students caught me in a duel and when one of their hexes sliced my cheek I thought nothing of it. It wasn't until the sight of my blood made them proud and then duel even harder did my magic lash out when I was failing to protect myself. I.. I killed someone." Hermione gasps, but no one dares to say a word. "It was an accident and the Professors knew it because they'd witnessed countless attacks on me, but the government gives no second chances. So my wand was snapped and I was kicked out of the magical community over there."

"But that's preposterous!" Hermione nearly screeches. "You were a child!"

"I was a witch who killed a fellow witch." You shrug. "Apparently the American government is not very forgiving." Harry reaches for your hand then, squeezing it to show his support in you.

"So what happened?" Ron wonders. "You had to have some form of schooling to be so in control of your magic now."

"I ended up in a muggle orphanage after feigning amnesia. I spent months without casting and well.. my magic had to go somewhere," you tell him. "I had a few outbursts and my outbursts were picked up on by the Sorcerer Supreme."

Hermione seems to perk up at that. "I've never heard of that term before."

"You wouldn't have." Smiling fondly, you continue to tell them about the man who changed your life. "All around the world there are sorcerers, but instead of using a wand they master what they call a Sling Ring." You pause just long enough to flash them the ring before summoning a basic shield on both hands. "There's a hidden community of sorcerers in every country, but only one Sorcerer Supreme. He happened to find me when the outbursts kept happening and showed me a different way to manifest my magic before showing me how to master theirs."

"Wicked," Ron breathes in awe.

"Did you- did you ever look for me?" Harry wonders. His small voice makes your heart ache.

"I did." You smile sadly. "Not at first because of Albus' manipulations, but when I found out I was a Potter and had a baby brother out there, the Sorcerer Supreme tracked you down. Albus refused to reunite us and the Sorcerer Supreme did not want to start a war with the Wizarding community."

"But Dumbledore died some time ago." Ron frowns. "Why didn't you try then?"

"I did," here you huff out a brief laugh, "but some rebellious little shits decided to flee and jumpstart a war." All three blush at your words and you reach up to ruffle Harry's hair. "But what matters most is that I'm here now and no one is keeping the Potter heirs separated any longer."

The following couple of weeks proved to be both mentally and physically draining. Besides all the funerals, you lost count of how many times you told your story and felt sick to your stomach when a few would not take Remus or Sirius' words that you were who you said you were. The main thing some could not understand was why Lily would hide her first pregnancy, but it was your godfather and Sirius who told everyone that it was James' dad who made the decision to hide the pregnancy and then even longer after you were born since you were the first female Potter in quite some time. Apparently you were such a well kept secret that not even Dumbledore knew of your existence until he had sent you off and told those who knew you that you had died that fateful night in Godric's Hollow.

Sadly, it was only after a blood test done by a trusted Healer at St. Mungos did everyone finally believe. It was a relief to not be questioned, but then came the daunting task of fixing up Godric's Hollow so it wasn't such a terrible shrine to the worst night of your and Harry's life, and then reopening Potter Manor. But until the real work began, all you wanted to do was spend time with your brother and thankfully Sirius had room for the two of you to stay with him.

Waking up one morning, you frown when you hear a little bit of a racket. It doesn't appear to be a worrisome sounding racket when you stick your head out the bedroom door, so you take the time to freshen yourself up in the bathroom and make sure you're decent for whatever company is downstairs.

Tiptoeing downstairs, you hold your breath as you pass the covered portrait of Sirius' mum less you wake the old hag up and have her screeching for hours. Then pushing the swinging door open, you smile at the sight of Molly Weasley at the stove and her twin sons chatting back and forth with Sirius.

You spot your brother several seats down from them and enter the kitchen to sit down next to him. He smiles when he sees you and you nudge his arm when you're finally seated. "What's going on?"

"Molly wanted to make us breakfast and to make sure Sirius was taking care of us properly. Your boyfriends tagged along and were being too nosy for her liking."

You huff a laugh. "Not my boyfriends."

"At least not yet."

You roll your eyes, grinning at your brother before nudging him again. The twins had taken a shine to you and it's something everyone found quite hilarious. Their flirtatious behavior was nothing serious, but you were grateful that they accepted you so quickly.

Plates full of scrambled eggs, hash browns, sausages, bacon and grilled tomatoes are floated over, followed by a jar of marmalade and a pitcher of orange juice. Molly then brings over a stack of buttered toast and happily pats you and Harry on the shoulders. "Alright, my dears. Dig in. Boys!" She then calls. "To the floo. Let Sirius, Harry, and Y/N eat in peace."

"But mum-" Fred whines.

"-we haven't seen Y/N in ages," George finishes.

Sirius grins as you scoff. "First off, you boys haven't even said hello to me since I walked into the kitchen. And second it's only been three days."

"And that is a terrible mistake on our part," Fred says as he scoots down the bench you're seated on, slinging his arm around your shoulders and smooching you loudly on the cheek. "Hello, love."

"Fred Weasley!" Molly whacks her son upside the head and Harry snorts out the orange juice he'd been sipping. "You leave Miss Potter alone and get going. You too, George."

Sirius laughs as the boys pout but do as they're told. You wink and blow George a kiss who proceeds to pretend he catches it and then pockets it. Laughing, you shake your head in amusement before looking up at their mum. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, for the delicious looking breakfast. I didn't know how much longer I could pretend that Kreacher's breakfast was good."

Molly beams, but before she could reply Sirius is huffing. "That dreary old bat just needs to be put out of his misery."

"Oh Sirius, be nice. I'm sure he's not all that bad," Molly admonishes him. You, Harry, and Sirius all snort and she tuts at all three of you, but you and Harry are the only two to grin apologetically at her. "Well if that's all, I shall be going. I'll see you three for dinner."

"No, no. This'll be all for today, Molly," Sirius assures her. "The kids are going to start reclaiming what is rightfully theirs today. We'll most likely swing by Tom's tonight."

"Well alright." Molly pats you and Harry on the shoulder one last time. "I wish you two the best."

After Molly whisks her sons back home, the three of you left at the table enjoy the breakfast she had cooked up. Halfway through Remus shows up and plops down on the opposite side of you, stealing food from your plate as he makes small talk with Sirius in between bites.

Once the food is gone and Sirius has summoned Kreacher to clear the table, all the attention is on you and Harry.

"So what's the plan, cub? Are you really going to demolish Godric's Hollow and rebuild?"

"Yes," you answer Remus. "I don't know about everyone else, but I believe it's a disgrace to mum and dad's memory that the home they were murdered in was left as is as some sort of memorial. It's sick," you say. "If they wanted to memorialize it, then a picture should have been taken to be put in a history book or a plaque be put up.

"Do you plan to live there?" Harry asks. "Because I can't see myself making a home where my earliest memory is of mum screaming as Voldemort threatened her."

"Oh Harry." Under the table you reach for your brother's hand, squeezing it in comfort. "I'm sorry you have to live with that. But yes, I'll take Godric's Hollow. Potter Manor is always passed to the male heir anyway, so you don't have to worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't remember anything from that night, and even though I know mum and dad died there I believe in making happy memories where they once lived. I think they'd like that."

He smiles. "Me too."

"Aww! Would you look at that," Sirius coos. "Seeing the two of you together, James and Lily would be proud."

"'Course they would," you muse, releasing Harry's hand and then slinging your arm around the back of his neck to bring him in closer while touching your temple to his. "We're adorable."

"Humble too," Remus huffs, pinching your cheek. He laughs when you swat at him. "So are you two ready? It's going to be quite the tiring day."

You and Harry glance at one another, sobering up some and nodding. "Let's get to it."