#yes it’s been five months and i’m only halfway through the book i’m reading

[aquadicere]

“i read a book a day” “i read three books a week” screw you if you think i’m NOT gonna spend months breaking down each sentence of this book and psychoanalyze each character to figure out who dies first and create my own ending in great detail in my head when i’m only three chapters into the book

[drarryficrecs]

Hi do you know any fics with Draco having a sectumsempra scar??? Thank you!!!

Yours To Keep by dracoismytrashson. Rated Explicit, word count 135k.

Some people think concepts like fate and destiny are romantic, but for Harry Potter, fate has always meant one thing: a swift kick in the arse. Why else would he cross an ocean to New York and enroll in Muggle university only to find Draco Malfoy living two doors down the hall? The universe and its twisted sense of humor can fuck right off.

A story in which two broken boys try to repair themselves halfway across the world. Too bad trauma doesn't care how far you run.

Who We Were, Who We Are by jamesilver. Rated M, word count 66k.

"The last thing I remember is packing for Hogwarts."

“Oh, well, dear," Pomfrey began. "You haven't missed much then. It could have been much worse. You've only missed a handful of months—less than a year, even. In fact—“

“When I was eleven," Draco added.

The room froze.

“You really don’t remember anything?” Harry asked. Draco shook his head and something in Harry’s eyes changed. “Well, then. I’m Harry. Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Draco.”

The girl did a double take at Harry, but Draco didn’t know what for. His own mind was busy reeling. “Harry Potter? As in the Harry Potter?”

Harry let out a laugh at that. “I don’t think anyone’s reacted to me like that in a couple of years. It’s interesting, really. But, yes, I suppose. I am the Harry Potter.”

“And I...” Draco could barely get the words out. “I make fun of you?”

Again, Harry laughed. “Well, we didn’t exactly start things out right. But, we don’t need to go over that right now because we’re busy starting again. So. Draco Malfoy, would you like to be friends?” Draco stared into those open green eyes and he knew that even if his mind didn’t remember meeting Harry, his heart did.

“Yes. I would like that very much.”

As Real As We Are by redthoughts. Rated Explicit, word count 38k.

Harry Potter just wants a quiet year at Hogwarts. Which, he realises, is not possible when your name is known all across Wizarding Britain and a group of girls follow you everywhere you go.

Draco Malfoy just wants peace. Which, he realises, is not possible when everyone around you wants to hex you every time they see you. Harry has a solution, but Draco doesn't want to hear it.

Will their fake relationship turn into true love?Of course, you already know the answer.

Another Mask Behind You by lettered. Rated Explicit, word count 116k.

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies. (And then more porn. Seriously, if you don’t want sex scene after sex scene you probably shouldn’t read this. And please read the warnings.)

Two Trees by LakeWitch. Rated Explicit, word count 36k.

In his Eighth year at Hogwarts, part of Draco Malfoy's probation is to see a Mind Healer once a week. Another part, unfortunately, is having to take Muggle Studies.

It wouldn't be so bad, really, if it weren't for the mandatory outing—a 'field trip'—booked at a Muggle lakeside retreat for the better part of five days. They're supposed to participate in Muggle activities, like riding in dangerous boats and visiting local farms to stare at sheep and cows or something. And they aren't allowed any magic while there. They aren't even allowed to bring along their wands in case of emergency. And just to make it all worse: Potter and Weasley, and a whole slew of Gryffindors, are going as well.

Draco is determined to get it all over with as painlessly as possible. He'll keep his head down, and stay out of everyone's way. That is, until Pansy tells him—at the very last moment—that she's schemed to have Draco stay in the same room with Potter for the whole trip.

Just the two of them... in one room.

Stalking Harry by thusspakekate. Rated M, word count 14k.

Harry Potter is the most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding world. Draco Malfoy is a disgraced ex-Death Eater with emotional baggage and a bit of a crush.

New Beginnings, Strange Endings by drivewaybirthday. Word count 35k.

It was three years since the Battle of Hogwarts had been fought and Harry James Potter was living alone in muggle London to escape the spotlight that was shone upon him in the wizarding world. However, his mundane day-to-day dwelling was interrupted by an offer from none other than Hogwarts' headmistress: Minerva McGonagall. Taking the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Harry gets more than he bargained for when he's reunited with an old enemy. Would Potions Master, Draco Malfoy, be prepared to start fresh with Professor Potter? Or would their previous status of archenemies remain unchanged?

ETA:

Can I Tell You Something? by Gallaplacidia. Word count 33k.

It's not a party unless Draco Malfoy is there. He's so fun! So wild! So crazy! So many drugs! So many drugs. Too many drugs? Harry's starting to think it's probably a lot too many drugs.

This is not a drug addiction recovery fic, although there is a drug addiction recovery.

Feat. character development through wide-eyed MDMA trips and Draco Malfoy finding peace as a burlesque dancer.

[wandanatfluff]

A dream come true

Short series Fluff

This is part of a series. I highly recommend reading Seven words first.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Summary: Natasha and Y/n go and visit Melina, Yelena and Alexei, Natasha’s parents and sister. Something unexpected happens. (This takes place about 7,5 months after Seven words, meaning the reader is now about 8,5 months pregnant.) No spoilers!

Warnings: Description of giving birth (nothing bloody or too detailed though)

Word count: 2.2 K

A/n: Part two!

Natasha parks the car on the small farm and you let out a heavy sigh as you feel the baby kick, earning you a worried look from your wife.

“You sure you feel good enough?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, just a firm kick.”

You give Natasha a reassuring smile, allowing her to relax a bit. You move your hand to the doorhandle and open it, you wait for your wife to round the car, so she can help you to get out of the car. You’re almost nine months pregnant by now, which means your bump has grown quite big. Natasha holds her arm around your waist as the two of you walk to the door. Melina immediately answers the door, before Natasha could even ring the doorbell.

“If that isn’t my favorite daughter in law!”

“Привет. Как поживает моя любимая свекровь” (Hello. How is my favorite mother-in-law doing?) You say to Melina in your best Russian. “Ну, кто-то практиковал свой русский.” (Well, someone has been practicing their Russian.)

“Yeah, I got kinda sick of doing nothing. Natasha didn’t even let me walk to the grocery store.”

“Ho, stop. Don’t go there, I was just following the doctor’s orders.” Natasha says as the two of you enter the house.

“I know baby. I’m sorry.” You say, giving her a kiss on her cheek. Natasha takes your coat off your shoulders and hangs it on a hook. You smile at her. You suddenly get a little light headed, reaching for Natasha’s arms. She holds on to you tight, letting you lean on her until you’re feeling well again.

“You guys can sit on the couch. I’ll get you something to drink.” Melina walks to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water. Natasha sits down sideways on the couch with her legs slightly apart, so you can sit between them, opening her arms. Gratefully you rest your back against her front. You take the glass of water Melina hands you and take a few sips, before handing it to Natasha, who puts it on the side table.

“Sorry about back there. I am really thankful for everything you do. I know I have been quite the pain in the ass lately.”

“What? No baby, you’re no pain in my ass. I love taking care of you, especially when you’re nauseous, sick and throwing up all over my new clothes… It’s cute.” Natasha says with a playful smirk on her face.

“Come on Tash, really? I’ve told you I’m sorry a hundred times.” You whine, putting your head in your neck, so you can see Natasha. She gives you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I guess you’ll just have to buy me a new one.” She chuckles, giving you another kiss. You move your eyes forward again, letting your head rest on Natasha’s chest as you close your eyes.

You begin to doze off, when a loud voice startles you awake. You quickly sit up straight, the action causing you to collide with Natasha’s chin, which was resting on your head. After you apologize to Natasha, you look at the source of the noise. Alexei is standing in the doorway, speaking loudly.

“Y/n!”

He walks over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. You gasp for breath as he nearly squeezes you.

“Alexei! Careful, you’re smushing her and the baby.”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot.” Alexei quickly steps away, his face turning slightly red.

“It’s okay. Good to see you too, you smile at him. You then look back at your wife’s scared expression. You reassure her you’re okay, before leaning back again. You make some small talk with Melina and Alexei about the Avengers and about how the farm is doing. You talk about the pigs, the chickens and the new horse they recently bought.

Around five o’clock Yelena comes in. It had started to rain just after you and Natasha had arrived and the blonde entered the house, soaking wet. Melina handed Yelena a small towel and when she was mostly dry again, she greeted you and Natasha.

“Hey sis and her preggy wife.”

“Hey Yel.” You both greet her and she carefully gives you a hug.

“How are the two of you doing?” She asks you.

“We’re doin-” Nat starts.

“No, not you Nat. Y/n and the little guy.” Yelena interrupts Nat. You frown at her words. You slowly turn your head to Nat, to see her looking at Yelena with an angry face.

“Yelena.” Nat exclaims annoyed.

“It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“It doesn’t matter, Nat. I’m sure Melina and Alexei can keep it a secret for the next two weeks or so.”

“Wait! You’re 8,5 months already?” Yelena interrupts you. Shouldn’t you be at home, resting?”

“That’s what I have done for the last few months. I’ve got enough sleep for a lifetime, read every book in the bookcase and watched every film on Netflix, Prime Video and Disney+. So I got a little bored, you know?” "Yeah... of course."

After you talked for another hour or so and Melina finished cooking, you all ate together. Although the food was delicious, you only ate a small amount, earning yourself a few concerned looks from Natasha. You felt her hand on yours as she softly whispered something.

“You okay, honey?”

You hummed in a response.

“I’m just a little tired I guess.” Natasha nodded and after desert she stood up, announcing your departure. You felt Melina’s eyes on you.

“Are you sure honey? You can sleep here if you want. It’s quite a long way home. Yelena is staying over too. You and Nat can have the spare room, you just have to refresh the sheets. Yelena can sleep on the couch.”

“I’m sorr-” Yelena protested, but one look from Melina and she nodded her head.

“I actually think that we would rather sleep in our ow-” Natasha was about to reject the offer, but you pulled her sleeve, stopping her from finishing.

“Actually, we would really appreciate that. Thank you, Melina.”

“You walked your pregnant body down the hall slowly, taking forever. Natasha came after you, supporting you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?”

“I’m really tired Tash and the weather outside is only getting worse. I don’t want us to have to stop halfway the ride, or worse, crash against a tree.”

“Yeah, me neither. Let’s get you to bed.”

Natasha helped you get to bed. She brushed your hair and made the bed, while you sat on the chair. You nearly dozed off and you were almost asleep when you felt Natasha pick you up bridal style, carrying you to the bed. You didn’t protest, you were too tired. You laid your head against Natasha’s shoulder as she let you down on the bed. She gently put the sheets over you. You put one arm above the sheets, laying it over your belly protectively. Natasha gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead and walked to the bathroom. You relaxed your body, ready to fall asleep, when you felt Natasha getting under the blankets behind you, wrapping her arm around you, her hand covering yours on your belly. You gave in to her warmth for a moment before saying:

“Tasha baby, you don’t have to go to bed too just because I’m tired.”

“But…” She protested.

“No baby, get out of bed. I can fall asleep on my own fine.” You felt a kiss on the back of your head, before Natasha got out of bed.

“Sleep well baby.” She whispered, before quietly closing the door.

*** Ow

You opened your eyes, half-awake as you felt a wave of pain going through your body. You put both hands on your belly, the source of the pain. The pain slowly faded as you were still hugging your own body. You took a few minutes to fully wake up. You turned around, reaching out to Natasha. She wasn’t next to you.

“Hey babe.” You heard her voice, you looked up at her. She was sitting in a chair, reading a book. She stood up from her chair, walking to you.

“What’s wrong.” You were about to answer her, when another wave of pain hit you and you curled up in pain. Natasha’s eyes widened.

“Is- is it time?” You nodded as you puffed away the pain.

“Yes… I think… so.” Natasha’s eyes widened even further. Her demeanor suddenly changed. She couldn’t panic right now. You needed her.

“What can I do?”

“Get Melina.” You answered. Melina rushed to your room. She sat down next to you. Her hand on your back. She spoke to you softly.

“When the next contractions hits, I will measure the time between them. All you have to do is puff them away. You probably learned that at delivery training, right? You nod. Another contraction hits. Melina looks at her watch, puffing with you. A minute goes by and the contraction ends. You relax your body and look up at Natasha, who is standing in front of you like a statue, with a pale face. Melina looks at Natasha too and as soon as she sees her daughter, she orders her to sit down.

“Sit down, Natasha. We don’t need for you to faint.”

Natasha listens to Melina’s orders and sits down on a chair.

Ten minutes go by before another contraction hits you, forcing a cry to leave your throat. You feel a wet pool forming between your legs and you grab Melina’s arm.

“I think… my water broke.”

The contraction ends and Melina helps you to get up from the bed. You stand next to the bed, leaning on Natasha, who has stood up from her chair. Melina quickly pulls the sheets off the bed, throwing them in the corner of the room.

“Stay here for a minute. If she has another contraction, puff with her until it ends and measure the time between them.”

Melina leaves the room, going to her own room.

“Wake up Alexei.”

“I’m already awake.” He grumbles.

“Some idiot decided it would be a good idea to scream and-”

“Y/n’s in labor, now get out of your bed and put a pan with water on the stove.” Alexei quickly gets out of his bed, rushing to the kitchen. Not intending to be anywhere near you when you give birth to your son. Melina quickly gets some towels from her closet, laying them on the bed, before heading back to your room. She enters the room as another contraction makes its way through your body. Melina orders Natasha to carry you to her room.

Natasha picks you up bridal style and you hold on to her tight, your screams muffled into her shirt. She lays you down on Melina’s bed and carefully helps you undress you lower body. You make yourself as ‘comfortable’ as possible, letting your back rest against some pillows as Melina stand at the end of the bed between your legs. She tells you it’s time to push and you hold on tight to Natasha’s hand, almost squeezing it.

*** Melina carefully hands you the little guy, after she cleaned him with the water Alexei warmed and wrapped him in a light blue blanket. With tears staining your cheeks, you take him and press him against your chest. After you give the little guy a kiss you look to your left, at Natasha.

Her eyes are red from crying, her chest moving up and down quickly. You give her the little boy. With shaking hands, she takes him from your hands, afraid she’ll drop him. He’s the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. More tears start to fall.

It warms your heart, looking at your wife with your son. She is crying, but you know they’re happy tears. Her dream of being a mother finally came true. The two of you had a son. You knew she would be the best mother ever as she looked up at you, her eyes full of love.

You gesture her to sit down next to you and you wrap her and your son in your arms. Nat lays her head against your chest.

“What do you think of James? After Bucky?” Nat suggests.

“James.” You repeat “James Romanoff. Perfect.”

“Romanoff?” Natasha asks, looking up to meet your eyes.

“Romanoff. After his mom.”

A/n: When it says ‘your son’, ‘your’ is in plural, like Y/n’s and Natasha’s son.

[nuckswriting03]

Why the hell are you skipping class- B. Boeser

taglist: @this-is-ally-and-im-confused

You had finished your assignment for your Biology class a week early so you saw no point in going to your lectures. All your lectures are is a work block so you would much rather go to a café then sit in a stuffy classroom for a hour and a half.

You grabbed a book full of mythology to read. You needed a break form all the science mumbo-jumbo that was all you had been reading for the past couple of weeks. Settling into the back corner with your book and a cup of coffee you relaxed for the first time in weeks.

By the time you noticed another presence sitting across from you in the café you were halfway through your book. A guy you recognized from the very biology class you happened to be skipping sitting across from you with a giant binder full of what you recognized as plays for some type of sport.

“Hey,” he greeted, “aren’t you in the same Bio lecture as me?”

You nodded closing your book. “Shouldn’t you be in the lecture right now then?” he questioned.

“Shouldn’t you be the lecture right now too?” You sassed back.

He looked at you in shock, “fair point, I didn’t want to sit in that stuffy hall for an hour or so. Instead, I skipped, what’s your reasoning?”

“I finished the assignment early so there was no point in me attending the lecture.” You shrugged.

“Makes sense, why would you sit in the class if you already finished the assignment.” He said before offering his hand, “I’m Brock.”

“Nice to meet you Brock, I’m Natale aka the girl who sits at the back of every single lecture we have together.” You said quickly shaking his hand.

“Every lecture we have together?” he questioned dropping your hand.

“Yup, we had sports management 101 and 102 together last semester.”

“Really, how didn’t I know that we had classes together? Normally I’m pretty observant of those in the same classes as me.”

“Like I said, I sit at the back of my classes, and I don’t really talk to many of my classmates. The only time I ever talk to my classmates is when I have to.”

“Really, so what do you do for fun?”

“Bother my roommates to watch sports with me.”

Brock looked at you like you were crazy, “Really, what kinds of sports?”

Looking down meekly you said, “Hockey, so much hockey that my roommates were definitely sick of hockey by the time we reached winter break.”

Brock laughed, “Have you ever been to a game for our school?”

“Yes I have, you had a pretty sick snipe during that game.”

He did a overdramatic bow, “Why thank you, Natale. Wait, Natale, Natale Anderson the new head photographer for the team?”

“In the flesh.”

“I saw some of the pictures you took of the women’s team, they are really good.”

“Thanks, it was fun to take pictures of the women’s team for once.”

“I take it you have a pretty fun job?”

“Eh it pays enough to pay for my expenses and I can travel a bit while still attending school.”

After about forty-five minutes of talking Brock looked at his watch and swore, “Crap, I have to get to practice. I guess I’ll see you later.”

You nodded, “You definitely will see me later.”

You went your separate ways with you heading to grab your camera from your dorm and him heading to practice. After a month of hanging out and study sessions he asked you out on a proper date. You ended up saying yes and shortly after he asked you to be his girlfriend. Much to the stress of the coaches and other players you said a very enthusiastic yes.

--------

Thank you for reading another imagine. my inbox is open for any requests you may have.

-Mollie <3

[hlizr50]

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 3

Read on AO3

Four days.

Four days of training with no sign of Azriel.

Four days of the pitying side-glances from Nesta and Cassian when she arrived to the ring to find that he still wasn’t there.

Gwyn gritted her teeth and peppered the post with blows from her fists and feet. She hated pity. She didn’t want it. They knew it, too. It was all she could do not to scream at them, and part of her wondered why exactly she hadn’t. A few weeks ago she probably would have. Her scowl deepened.

She punched harder.

As much as she’d denied it to the general and her friends, she was acting differently. She wasn’t upset about being spurned by a male. She had never had any claim on Azriel, never had any expectations. She was not a female that would allow a male to have power over her emotions – her very being – like that.

But she felt like she had lost a friend, and not due to tragedy or death. She had lost a friend by their own choice. She wasn’t sure how to handle that.

Had it been pity that made Azriel placate her? Is that what he had done? She’d told him that she missed him. It was true, and she had never questioned uttering her truth to anyone.

He hadn’t returned the sentiment.

Perhaps it had been pity, then. He had said what he knew she wanted to hear, enough to get her out of his hair…

“NO,” she scolded herself through her panting. Gwyn would not allow herself to go down that road. She did not need pity from herself, either. She was strong and capable and confident. She was a Valkyrie.

The dull ache in her knuckles distracted her from her rushing thoughts and the sun beating down on the training ring. It was hotter than she could remember it ever being since she’d started training – so hot that Cassian had allowed the trainees to forego the Illyrian leathers in favor of lighter, cooler clothing. A year ago the idea may have terrified her, but she had fought Illyrian warriors in nothing but a nightgown, so she graciously accepted Nesta’s offer of the light blue linen tunic that bared her shoulders and lightweight leggings. Gwyn was grateful for her friend’s consideration, even though she knew the sun would likely end up burning her rarely-exposed skin.

Another distraction. For the best.

“Gwyn.”

The priestess started as the general’s voice boomed from behind her. She turned her wide eyes to him and saw an eyebrow raised at her.

“Cassian?” She had grown increasingly comfortable with him in the months since his and Nesta’s mating ceremony. She had spent a considerable amount of time with both of them, and while she still used his title, it was usually in jest and banter. He had become a friend, something of a brother, perhaps.

“I said you need to take a break.” His eyes shifted to her hands before returning to her face. “Water. Now. And take care of those hands.”

“I’m fine -“

“You will take care of them or I will sideline you for the rest of the day, Berdara,” he spoke sternly, every bit the weathered veteran and general of the most feared forces in all of Prythian. He had mischief in his eyes, as per usual, but there was something that darkened them.

Concern.

“Yes, general,” she drawled before muttering under her breath as he walked away, “Mother-henning busybody.”

“What was that, Berdara?” he challenged over a broad shoulder.

“Nothing!” she sing-songed back to him as sweetly as she could muster, lest she not sound convincing. His wings flared slightly as he paced away, and she waited until he was halfway across the ring before she stretched out her arms in front of her to survey the backs of her hands. The fabric wrapped around her hands was stained crimson across her knuckles where her skin had surely cracked open. In multiple places.

She hadn’t even noticed.

Gwyn uttered a low curse, scowling to herself, and stalked over to the table where Nesta and Emerie were watching her. Her sisters. Regardless of whatever this storm was that she was experiencing, she knew that she was not alone. That was the greatest comfort.

“If I were you I’d save some of that aggression for someone who actually deserves it,” the eldest Archeron offered, eyebrows raised. “What did that post ever do to you anyway?”

Gwyn scoffed, looking back at the padded wood that she had been battling for Mother-knew how long before glancing at her bloodied hands. “I think it still came out on top, anyway,” she grinned, and began peeling the fabric away. Emerie passed her a basket of gauze, ointments, and clean wraps as Gwyn lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the ground.

“You… uh… you were really in the zone there, Gwyn,” the Illyrian female said as she knelt beside her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” The copper-haired priestess looked at her friend, warmth blooming in her heart when she saw the concern written across her tanned face.

“I’m fine,” she smiled brightly at Emerie and then looked up to Nesta. “I promise.”

“Regardless,” Nesta answered as she sat down with her. “Save a couple of those shots for that idiot Spymaster. That’s what I’m doing.”

Gwyn managed a laugh before returning her attention to her stinging, bloodied hands. She hissed as she dabbed ointment over where her skin had split before laying gauze over the freshly cleaned wounds. Maybe she would save a punch or two for Azriel, if she ever even saw him again.

Or maybe she would just continue to savor the distraction of the pain.

~~~

Punching something until her hands bled had proven to be an effective distraction during training.

And again that night, when her demons had chased her out of bed for the third time in five days. She hadn’t told Nesta and Emerie how bad it was getting since Azriel had chosen to remove himself from her life. They were already worried, and it was something she would need to learn to manage on her own, anyway. At least she could still go to the training ring, work herself to bone-numbing exhaustion, and then collapse into slumber for a few precious hours.

Azriel was never there.

And while punching and kicking until she was bruised and bloody bought her some reprieve from her nightmares, it was not conducive to her work in the library. Her swollen fingers could barely grasp her quill.

Definitely weapons tonight, then.

She paused, feeling her eyes prickle as she realized her assumption: that she all but planned on being unable to sleep yet again.

What a mess she had become.

Regardless of what potential may have existed between her and Azriel before, what tore at her was the loss of a dear friend, a confidant. He had seen her darkest days and nights and had never run away from her. She had tried to ignore it the first night she had sensed him in the archway to the training ring before he retreated back into the House. But he’d kept retreating, again and again.

And now he didn’t approach at all. She hadn’t even sensed or scented him in the House, ever since that day he’d assured her that they were friends, and that things would go back to normal. What a foolish hope that had been.

“Gwyneth, girl, where are those books I told you to fetch? I sent you for them hours ago!” Gwyn winced as Merrill’s voice carried through the stacks. She had known it would only be a matter of time before the elder priestess found her. To an outsider, Merrill’s voice would have sounded pleasant, but the Valkyrie heard the venomous threats underneath. She put down her quill and rubbed her eyes as the beautiful white-haired female approached her, eyes gleaming with malice.

“I apologize, sister. I have been struggling with this transcription.” Indeed, the pain in her hands had caused her to be much slower than usual. “I’ll retrieve those books for you immediately.” Gwyn moved to push herself from the table when Merrill’s soft tanned fingers yanked her bruised hand to study it, her grip like a vice. The teal-eyed priestess winced.

“Poor little Valkyrie, can barely even write her own name,” Merrill scoffed. “Perhaps I should replace you, Gwyneth. Nobody has use for a foolish girl who is too broken to look out for herself.”

Gwyn pulled her hand back, the pain forgotten after the words that lanced into her soul. It was a ‘gift’ of Merrill’s, knowing exactly what to say to cut her to the quick.

“Can’t sleep without someone to coddle you, so instead you resort to brutality. Poor excuse for a Valkyrie. Poorer excuse for a female.” How could she know?

Gwyn rose abruptly, tears stinging at her eyes. But she would not let them fall in front of the witch. “I’ll go get those books now,” she managed to rasp, before retreating into the stacks.

~~~

That night she hadn’t even tried to sleep, the scholar’s dagger-like words twisting in her chest. Merrill was right, wasn’t she? For all Gwyn had done, all that she had overcome and accomplished, she was falling apart. She was adrift, uncertain of where to turn. Nesta and Emerie would never turn away, of course. But Azriel…

It had been different with him, she didn’t know why. But the gaping wound left in his absence was proof that maybe the necklace had meant more than she cared to admit. So had not being the intended recipient. It hurt.

Losing him hurt.

And even though she had realized that day that she wouldn’t have his heart, she had hoped that he would be willing to continue with the friendship they had built.

But she had lost even that.

Gwyn burst through the door and into cold rain, steam rising from the training ring as the droplets hit the stone floor still warm from the daytime sun. She stood there for a moment, letting it wash over her. Her robes grew heavy with water but she barely took note as the downpouring cold soothed her aching hands and soul.

Robes swished as she moved to the center of the ring. She sat down and hugged her knees to her chest. Closing her eyes, she tilted her chin up, allowing her tears to fall and mix with the rain that had dulled her usually vibrant hair to a drab chestnut.

Just breathe. Let it be and breathe.

She didn’t know how long she had been there, letting the storm wash her clean, when she felt him. She had always been able to sense him, shadows or no. She faced forward, determined not to turn toward him, lest he see how weak she had become. So she simply gathered her courage and spoke. It sounded steadier than she had expected, much stronger than she felt.

“Hello, Azriel.”

~~~

He wasn’t surprised that she knew he was there. She always seemed to know, and not just because his shadows were traitorous bastards who would tend to attract her attention – seemingly on purpose.

Gwyn always seemed to… sense him.

And, if Azriel were ever honest with himself, he would probably admit that it was the same for him. She had a presence that he was drawn to.

Constantly.

The restraint that it had taken to stay in the townhouse, maintain his home base there as he fulfilled his reconnaissance missions in Vallahan and the human lands – it was wearing on him. He’d barely slept in the last week, throwing himself into his work and training when the darkness and shame kept him awake in the night. The guilt was a festering wound inside of him.

He’d told Gwyn that they were friends. That things would return to normal. And then he’d run from her like a fucking coward.

Azriel. Spymaster. Shadowsinger. Death Bringer. The lethal dark of the Night Court had run from a 29-year-old priestess who loved nothing more than to smile and laugh, whose only crime was caring for him. Five centuries of training and death and calm calculation had not prepared him for her innocence and trust. It was dangerous.

The shadowsinger stared at her rain-soaked form huddled in the middle of the training ring, shadows curling around him – begging him to go to her. Even without the moon her skin seemed to glow. It was pinker than usual, likely due to her training underneath the midday sun. His gaze drifted to her hands, long fingers wrapped under her knees. His eyes narrowed as he spied the discoloration of her skin and cracks over her knuckles. He’d assumed that Cassian was exaggerating when he had told him that Gwyn was beating herself bloody, taking out her emotions on every piece of equipment available to her.

That knife of guilt twisted in his gut.

His brother had been waiting outside his room when he’d returned to the townhouse the night before, leaning on the doorframe casually with crossed arms.

“So this is where you run off to when you have too many feelings?”

Cassian had never been known for his tact.

“I’m working, Cassian. It’s quieter –“

“Cut the bullshit, Az. You and I both know that things are quiet and that your spies can more than manage their assignments.” Azriel growled and barged through the door, Cassian on his heels. “And you and I both know that this has nothing to do with your responsibilities to the court and has everything to do with Gwyneth Berdara.”

The shadowsinger halted, suddenly finding the navy silk sheets on his bed very interesting. Anything to avoid looking at the other Illyrian in the room. No matter what mask he slid over his emotions, Cassian could see right through it. Always.

He shook his head and tore his shirt off over his arms, stalking into the bathing room without acknowledging what the general had said. “I’m exhausted, Cassian.”

“Then listen to what I have to say, Az. You listen, then I’ll leave.”

He turned back to his brother, Cassian’s hulking form taking up most of the doorway. The dim fae lights of the bathing room cast shadows that sharpened the angles of his face. His usual mischievous glint had been replaced with resolution and concern. The shadowsinger sighed and motioned for Cassian to speak before turning to lean his hands on the refreshing cool porcelain of the bathtub.

“She’s working herself until she’s black and blue and bleeding. I’ve had to threaten to sideline her twice this week, just so she’ll take a break and tend to herself. Sound like anyone you know?”

Azriel could only sigh and hang his head. Of course it did. It was exactly what he always did to work through his frustration, to battle the demons that chased him out of bed too many nights. It was the reason she had found him in the training right that first night, the beginning of that friendship he’d told her he would uphold.

“I know you, Az. I know you feel guilty for upsetting her. I know what you see inside yourself. But you need to give yourself more credit, and Gwyn, too. Whatever this is, it’s hurting you both. So stop getting in your own way and be honest with her. Both of you can have what you deserve.”

The spymaster didn’t answer but raised his head to gaze at the moonlit garden through the window. He imagined there were lovely summer blooms and leafy vines slithering around the pane of glass – a lovely view for a relaxing summer bath. Cassian’s wings rustled has he turned to leave.

“If you can’t get your shit together and come back to help with training I need to know. The advanced females are having to sacrifice their progress to help with the novices. If I can’t depend on you to be there, I’ll need to find someone else.”

Azriel let out a sardonic laugh. The general knew just how to play him, like a fucking fiddle. He could never stand a jab to his dependability.

“I’ll be back next week.”

It was that conversation that had brought him to the training ring tonight, only to find the copper-haired priestess sitting in the cold rain. Even through the downpour he could smell the salt on her cheeks.

“What brings you here tonight?” he asked, like a useless fool. He knew the reason. Azriel was not the only one with nightmares.

“Same as usual, Shadowsinger.” Gwyn’s voice was tight. “Fourth time since we last spoke.”

He inhaled sharply. It had only been six days since he last saw her, in this very spot. “I thought they were getting better.”

“They were.”

They were.

Those two words hit him like a physical blow, but the white hot brand against his soul was the implication – the words she hadn’t spoken in that voice that was too shaky and small for the Gwyn he knew.

Her nightmares were getting better. But now… worse.

He had done this.

His absence, his cowardice, his stupidity, his darkness. It was his fault. He’d ripped his support away because he was a coward, unable to forgive himself for something her generous heart had forgiven almost as soon as it had happened. She had assured him of that. The sincerity had shone like stars in her incredible eyes. But he hadn’t accepted it. She had considered him a friend, and he had abandoned her to face her darkest memories alone.

Azriel’s eyes stung with the understanding, the wretched self-loathing, and he dared a glance again at those gentle hands he longed to hold. Bruised fingers and cracked skin.

He may as well have put those marks there by his own scarred, cruel, sadistic hands.

“I thought – maybe I just hoped – that I’d find you here one night.”

He swallowed the threatening emotions and could only manage a rasped, “I had work to do.”

“Of course.”

She saw right through him. She always had. Panic and guilt and grief rose like a tidal wave within him. He could never forgive himself for this pain he had caused her – a Carynthian warrior trying to hold herself together in the deluge. He would not forgive himself for the tears that she’d shed, the pain that she’d put herself through to cope.

I miss you, Azriel.

The shadowsinger took a shuddering breath.

Cassian was right. Gwyn deserved so much more than he could ever give, ever be. She was light and joy and he would not let his darkness snuff her out. He was broken, soulless, and cold – death on the wind. The terrible things he had done, would continue to do, would make even the strongest warriors flee in terror. He would not bring any more blood and fear and pain into her life. She deserved happiness and joy, and he deserved suffering and the dark.

They would both get what they deserved.

“You should get inside, Gwyn. The rain is cold and you’re soaked to the bone. Get inside, warm up, and get some rest.” Azriel had no idea how he’d managed that cool, detached voice when his chest was cracking open, allowing the shadows and shame to flood into him. He watched her form, swallowed in waterlogged robes. Everything about her seemed less vibrant in that moment.

“Yes. I will. Soon.”

He waited a moment longer, and when she made no move he stepped back into the stairwell, letting the night cover him. He dared one more glance over his shoulder, heart splintering when she lowered her head to her knees, shoulders shaking.

Azriel bolted down the stairs then, knowing that facing the 10,000 steps down to Velaris would be nothing compared to facing the gut-wrenching sobs he pretended he couldn’t hear.

~~~

Gwyn knew that he could probably hear her, but she didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

So she let herself cry – full choking sobs – into her knees. But she didn’t cry for Catrin, or her lost innocence, or for Sangravah. For the first time in a long while she cried for her – this pain, heartbreak at losing someone who had become so dear to her and being powerless to stop it.

Tomorrow would be better, she knew. She had overcome far too much to let this break her. She would survive this, maybe even be better for it.

But tonight she would cry.

Because for the first time in over a year Gwyneth Berdara did not feel strong.

Tag List: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @ddsworldofbooks @gwynrielsupremacist

[pan-fangirl-345]

Meeting the Team

Summary: You’re out with your boyfriend, Tsukishima, when you run into his team unexpected. You were not prepared for this.

It was supposed to be a calm walk through the park. You really weren't expecting to be introduced to your boyfriend's entire team at once.

You and Tsukishima had been walking through the park after spending the day window shopping. You had finally managed to convince him to go shopping with you. Even though it was something that neither of you particularly enjoyed, you need some new school supplies and maybe a few new sweatshirts and Tsukishima liked to point out the weird things that people bought so you could ponder what they were using it for.

It was a nice day, the skies were clear, there was a nice breeze, and it was cool enough that you weren't overly hot.

Kei had told you about his team before, obviously, and you and Tadashi had known each other since middle school.

"Hey, (Y/F/N), heads up," Kei murmured, nudging your side as a group of boys headed towards you.

"Isn't that your team?" you asked, letting Kei, nudge you behind him slightly. Kei's hand slid into yours, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. You wrapped your arms around the arm Kei was using to halfway shield you from the rest of the boys.

"Yes, unfortunately," Kei muttered.

"Oh my god! Is Saltishima with a girl?!"

The small red-head that had spoken was clearly Hinata, and he was just the way Kei had described him.

"What else would she be, dumbass?"

That was Kageyama then, if the stoic face and the dark hair were anything to go by.

"It's good to see you again (Y/F/N)," Tadashi said, giving you a small smile.

"Who's your friend Tsukishima?" the silver-haired male asked, giving you a warm smile. That must've been Suga.

"This is (Y/N), she's my girlfriend," Kei admitted, glancing back at you warily.

"I-I can go," you whispered to him, starting to back away from them all. It wasn't that you or Kei were ashamed of your relationship, if either of you were it wouldn't have gotten this far, but neither of you were ready to tell his entire team at once.

One of the first things that you had told Kei was that you and crowds didn't tend to mix. You sometimes got overwhelmed when you had to remember so many names and faces. And Kei had told you enough that it was better if you met the team in groups or one-on-one.

"How did Tsukishima get such a pretty girlfriend?" You looked to see a short boy with spiky hair and a blond tuft. That would be Nishinoya then.

"Guys, let's give them some space, she looks like she might puke." That was an older boy, with short brown hair. That was probably Daichi.

"Damn, she's almost as pretty as a Kiyoko and Yachi. You never told us that you were a player Tsukishima." Loud, buzzcut, looked like someone you would avoid in an alleyway. Tanaka then.

The three standing back and watching looked like Narita, Ennoshita, and Kinoshita.

"It's nice to meet you."

Tall, long hair, looked like a tough guy. Asahi then.

"It's nice to meet you too Asahi," you murmured, giving him a shy smile.

"Y-You know how I am?"

"Kei's told me about all of you," you admitted. "I think I can name all of you. Maybe."

Kei glanced back at you, running his thumb over your hand softly.

"Aw, so Saltishima does care about us!" Hinata chirped, practically vibrating.

"Hinata's as enthusiastic as you said he was Kei," you murmured, stepping out a little bit.

"You got my name right!" Hinata said, giving you a bright smile, one you returned slowly.

"It's nice to meet you (Y/L/N), I'm assuming you're the reason Tsukishima is always smiling at his phone during practice lately," Suga said, smirking at Kei, who glared at him.

"You told me you weren't doing anything!" you hissed, pinching Kei in the side lightly.

"I said that what I was doing wasn't as important as talking to you," Kei replied, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"I-I'm really n-not that important! You should be paying attention to practice," you told him, glaring at him weakly.

"Good to know you'll call this stick out on his shit," Nishinoya mumbled.

"Noya, language," Suga hissed.

"It's alright Suga, that doesn't bother me."

"You should hear her when we study together," Kei muttered, pushing his glasses up his nose again.

"You aren't any better baby," you informed him.

"You really aren't Tsukki," Yamaguchi pointed out.

"Baby? Never knew Tsukishima would be into pet names," Kageyama said.

"You're never gonna here the end of this, are you?" you asked Kei, who shook his head.

"This is one of the reason I was hoping to delay telling them," Kei confessed.

"Hey, (Y/L/N), do you want to play with us?" Hinata asked, throwing a ball into the air.

"I . . . um, I don't really play. I come to your games and everything, but I'm more of a softball person."

"You likes hitting things with a metal bat, you mean," Kei said. "Since you can't legally do it to the idiots in our class."

"Maybe, but I also like the feeling of a ball hitting my glove, the sound it makes, the way it feels when you catch a pop fly no one thought you could catch and the ump yells 'you're out'!"

"What position do you play?"

"Outfielder, I have an arm apparently."

"She's one of their strongest batters," Kei boasted.

"What's the point in you boasting about my abilities, Kei?" you asked.

"Because you won't do it yourself."

"I do too!"

"No, love, you don't."

You pouted, but it was true. You never really saw a reason to boast about how hard you could throw a ball, or how far you could hit one.

Your phone ringing saved you from any comments.

"Mom?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm out with Kei, I told you that I was going out with him today. What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing, I guess I just forgot where you were."

"Do you need anything while I'm out?"

"No, just be home before dinner."

"I always am," you reminded her.

She hung up, making you tear a hand through your hair.

"I need to leave a note or something next time," you muttered.

"Your mom?" Kei asked.

You nodded, intertwining your fingers together.

"Need me to take you home?"

"No, I just have to be back by dinner, so I'm good until about five-thirty."

"Wait, were you on a date?" Daichi asked, raising an eyebrow.

You glanced at Kei. 

You were definitely dating, but you had never really labeled the outings that took place. They didn't feel like dates.

"Yeah. I told you guys I was going out with my girlfriend," Kei muttered, pushing his glasses up his face.

"We thought you were joking man!" Tanaka bellowed. 

"Yeah, we just thought you were trying to get out of team hangouts."

"You should've gone, we could've done this another day," you told Kei.

"I wanted to spend some time with my girlfriend, is that too much to ask?" Kei asked, tightening his grip a little bit.

He was clearly getting exasperated with everyone, and the lines on his face said that he was getting irritated too.

"No, but don't you guys have your tournament coming up?" you asked. "You should be practicing. I can wait."

Kei frowned, and then you realized your choice of words.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," you muttered.

"Love," he whispered, a low warning.

"Look, all I'm saying is that you should be practicing. We can go on all the dates you want when your tournament is over."

"If you don't go out with her Tsukishima, I might," Noya teased.

You couldn't help the heat that flushed to your cheeks.

You had never thought of yourself as particularly pretty, you were intelligent, sure, but you weren't what most people would describe as crush material. It was one of the reasons it took you and Kei so long to get together, you had thought it was a prank.

Kei sighed, deep and long-suffering and you stifled a giggle.

"I think we better get going guys," you admitted. "I think Kei might pop a blood vessel if we don't."

"Or commit murder," Kei grumbled, but he shot you a grateful look.

"You love them too much for that and you know it."

"End me now."

"Imagine how bad it'll be when I finally meet your brother," you pointed out.

The blood seemed to drain from Kei's face and Yamaguchi snorted into his hand as he tried to suppress his laughter.

"We're breaking up," he deadpanned.

"Not until I meet your brother," you told him, shaking your hands for emphasis.

"Yamaguchi, help me out here." He must've been desperate.

"Video tape it for me so I can see how it goes," Tadashi replied, making you laugh.

"This is why we're friends," you told him, fist bumping him.

"They're plotting against me I swear," Kei muttered, tearing a hand through his hair.

"Okay, let's go then Grumpy Pants," you said. "It was nice to finally meet all of you," you added, heading for the train station so you could head home.

"Did . . . did you like them?" Kei asked.

"Of course I did, honestly, with some one-on-one time with them, I would probably like them a lot more."

"I'm sorry that it happened like that," Kei admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"It's alright, I handled it a lot better than I thought I would. I think it's because you told me so much about them. I felt like I knew a lot about them before I even met them."

Kei nodded, kissing the top of your head.

"Why are you so different around me, Kei?" you asked after a while.

"What do you mean?"

"I see how you act around the others. I know that everyone else sees the- what did you call it?- bastard act. I rarely ever see that. I know it's only been a few months and this phase," you pointed out every point of physical contact, "will probably wear off eventually, but . . . you don't act like that around me."

"I act like this around you because you're different," Kei muttered. "You seem to have the ability to read me like a book. It's aggravating, but it also means that I don't have to put up the wall. You see everything, and you seem to like it anyway."

"Does . . . does it bother you? That I know you so well?" you inquired, taking a not-so-subtle step away from him.

"Get back here," Kei muttered, tucking you neatly into his side again. "I said it's aggravating, and I said that because you know how much I don't like talking about things. And you always know when I'm hiding something that's bothering me."

"You don't always have to talk to me. You could talk to Yamaguchi," you suggested.

"I talk to you because I trust you. If I didn't want to talk to you, we wouldn't be dating," he told you. "We wouldn't be dating if it bothered me that you knew me so well."

"I just . . . I've never really been in a serious relationship with someone who actually liked me."

"What do you mean?" He paused, and looked down at you, frowning.

"I've gone on dates and everything before . . .  but most of them were dared by friends to ask me out." You shrugged, toying with your hair. "It's just that I want to do things right."

"You are," Kei assured you. "Have . . . have I ever made you feel like you weren't?"

"No, baby, you have never made me feel like that," you promised him, turning so you could cup his face, stroking his cheek with your thumb. "I would have told you if you had."

Kei nodded, bumping foreheads with you.

"C'mon, let's get you home before your mother has an aneurism," Kei muttered.

You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand as you walked together.

"I would literally pay to see my mother pop a blood vessel," you told him, smiling at him as he smirked.

"Your parents don't like me, do they?" he asked after a while. "That's why she keeps pretending she doesn't know where you are."

"They just have a hard time trusting anybody. The last couple of times I tried to bring a boy home they confessed that it was just a dare," you admitted, attempting to hide your face with your hair.

"They don't know what they're missing," Kei snapped, stopping you. "You are amazing, and beautiful, and you're smart, and you know me well enough to know that it's just the bastard act. Anything they told you about how much you are worth is wrong."

"I know that," you answered, the silent 'sort of' not needing to be addressed. "But Kei, you have to remember, it takes a toll on a girl when the only reason she gets asked out is because of a dare. Why do you think it took me so long to get together with you?"

Kei frowned, but you knew he got it. Didn't mean he was happy about it though.

"We got off track," you muttered. "My point, is that they don't trust you yet. I do, and they'll come around eventually, I did, didn't I?"

Kei nodded, giving you a small smile.

"Do you think your team liked me?" you inquired as the train bumped along.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they asked you to start managing," Kei muttered. "Yeah, they liked you. A lot."

"Don't go getting jealous Kei," you teased, wrinkling your nose at him playfully.

"'M not," he grumbled, but the slight flush on his cheeks told you otherwise.

"You know you'll always be my favorite volleyball dork," you said, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

PDA was never something Kei had ever really been against, the most he usually went with was an arm around your shoulders or waist, holding your hand, but other times he would allow things like this.

He always had a protective arm around you when you were on the train since he knew there were all sorts of creepy people, mostly men, that might try something.

"Kei, you know you don't have to introduce me to your brother right? You seem a little on edge about it."

"No, I want you two to meet," he admitted, toying with a small piece of your hair absentmindedly. "It's just going to be chaos when you do. Akiteru can be . . . a lot sometimes."

"And your team isn't?" you asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"You . . . have a fair point," he confessed.

"I tend to," you teased.

"Okay, don't get too cocky, that's my job," Kei replied.

"I thought it was your job to be pessimistic."

"I'm a realist," he retorted.

"Keep telling yourself that babe," you said, patting his shoulder lightly.

Kei snorted, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You loved bickering like this with Kei, it was never hurtful, it was playful teasing, and it made you both smile. You were both very good at it too, which meant sessions could go until someone stopped you.

Many people had asked if you guys were having an argument the first time you did it in school, and you had just giggled and said it was how you communicated.

When you got off at your stop Kei slipped his hand into yours, interlacing your fingers together.

"Text me when you get home alright? There's been some sketchy stuff going on," you tell him as you walked down your road.

"I will," he assured you, kissing your forehead before you slipped inside.

"Bye Kei," you called, waving.

"Bye (Y/F/N), I'll see you tomorrow."

You smiled as he strode down the street toward his own home.

Yeah, he was definitely different from the others.

(A/N I’m such a simp for this boy! Oof.)

[hiinnys]

i buried a hatchet (it’s coming up lavender)

(hello! it’s been a minute! sorry, i’ve unfortunately been trapped under work’s capitalist foot!! but how are yall? MAJOR happy birthday to harry james! thank you for being my comfort character <3 anyways, hope you enjoy harry’s little 22nd party, which is also on ao3!) 

the planning starts in may. it’s nearly three months early, but may brings bad memories molly’s always tried to avoid. it’s a simple question about cake flavors pointed at harry and ginny, their birthdays always planned in tandem, but harry freezes nonetheless. it’s nothing anyone would notice, but ginny does because she’s ginny and harry’s always been what she’s good at. so when they’re alone later and she asks about it, he’s not surprised.

“it’s stupid,” he says, shaking his head in that way he does that makes him seem so small ginny’s heart aches.

“harry,” she pushes this one, feels like she has to.  

“it’s just…i’m twenty-two this year, aren’t i?”

“yeah?”

“i’m always gonna be older than them now,” he almost whispers, like it’s a crime to even speak aloud. he sits down on the bed just then. the bed in his flat that he’s been too scared to ask her to share with him. he wonders briefly if his dad was ever as scared to ask his mum something so easy; wonders if his dad ever got the chance to be, or if that was just another thing war took away from him.

“harry,” she sits next to him, body angled towards him so her legs are pushed up against his side. “talk to me.”

it’s a simple request; ginny’s like that, takes only the smallest pieces of him because she thinks everyone else takes too much. he wants to tell her that she can take as much as she wants, it’s all hers anyways, but he doesn’t know how, so he settles for giving her what she’s asked of him.

“it feels…wrong, i guess, to celebrate it,” he sighs, tries to quell the storm in his chest, in his head (doesn’t succeed). “it feels like i’m celebrating their deaths.”

she’s silent for a moment, like she’s thinking it all through, weighing the merits of what he’s said, and he can’t quite express how grateful he is that she gives him this - her respect, her thoughtfulness, her whole self, each and every time.

“i get it,” she finally says. “but you can’t live the rest of your life avoiding your birthday. i think you’ve already missed too many in your parents’ books.”

he knows she’s right, thinks about his years with the dursleys, about how he didn’t even know his birthday until he was five and a teacher at primary told him. he nods his head.

“but-,” he starts.

“just not this one,” she finishes. “yeah, i get it.”

the next time they’re at the burrow, ginny casually mentions that she’s actually surprised harry with a weekend trip for his birthday, seeing as he never takes time off otherwise, and if the family would like, they could do a joint cake at ginny’s birthday dinner.

***

she actually does surprise him with a trip, something that he wasn’t expecting, but she suggests they bring teddy along and harry reckons the kid’s due for a holiday. she doesn’t tell him where they’re going to start, just piles the three of them in harry’s car and tells him to drive (she’s yet to pass her driver’s test, but ginny’s one of the few people who genuinely enjoys the tube so she’s not in any rush).

it’s when they’re less than halfway there that harry realizes she has them set out for shell cottage.

“really? you thought bringing me to your brother’s place would be a nice birthday surprise?”

“first of all, you said yourself we aren’t celebrating your birthday, and, second, bill and fleur aren’t home. they’re in france, so i asked if we could borrow the place for the weekend and they said yes.”

“fair enough.”

***

teddy’s antsy for the water as soon as he sees it, so they only go as far as throwing their stuff in the sitting room before taking him down to the shoreline. he splashes happily through the calm water, and his clothes are soaked to the brim, but his laughter fills the air, so harry lets it be.

“harry!” the five year-old shouts, holding up a distinctly purple piece of coral. “look! pretty!”

“you wanna take it with you?”

“YES!” he screams, eyes wide with glee, and harry can’t help the rush of love for his godson. he exaggerates tucking the coral into his pocket when teddy hands it to him, just to affirm ted’s desire to keep it safe. when he turns around, ginny’s smiling at them from her place on a rock, jeans pushed up to her knees, feet in the water and red hair blowing in the wind, and harry finally feels peace settle into his heart.

***

the rest of the day passes rather quietly. when they finally make it in from the beach, the day catches up with teddy, leaving him exhausted and irate, so harry gives him a quick bath and settles the boy in for a small nap. when he gets back down, ginny’s changed and sits on a bar stool in the kitchen, picking at the last of the snack plate harry had made earlier in lieu of a proper lunch.

“hungry?” harry asks and, at her nod of affirmation, starts looking through the fridge to figure out what dinner can be. they sit in an easy silence for a bit, harry washing and cutting vegetables and ginny watching. over the years, he’s learned she likes to watch him cook, and though the reason for it doesn’t make too much sense to him, he likes having her there, so he’s never questioned it much.

“thank you for this,” he finally says.

“for what?”

“bringing us here. i’ve been in my head about it all too much, i think. the whole twenty-two thing. it’s nice to not have to think about it for a bit.”

she studies him for a minute, like she’s trying to look right at the core of him, so he puts down the knife he’s been using to chop the vegetables and gives her all of himself.

“you never have to thank me,” she says after a minute.

“i know.”

***

teddy “helps” harry clean up after dinner that night, which really just means that ted sits on the counter next to the kitchen sink and rattles on about something or the other while harry does the dishes. every now and then, harry blows some soap bubbles on the boy and basks in the glow of the laughter it brings out of him.

an hour later (and well past his bedtime), harry finally manages to get teddy to stay beneath the sheets, but it’s only when ginny reads him babbity rabbity twice and swears on her life that they’ll go back down to the water tomorrow that teddy settles in for the night.

“harry!” he whispers as harry’s switching off the light.

“yeah, mate,” harry stage-whispers back, his eyebrows raised for ginny’s amusement.

“happy birthday!” teddy murmurs tiredly.

“that’s tomorrow, mate.”

“still,” the boy whines.

“thanks, ted,” harry responds, gentle smile on his face.

when they finally make it into their room, harry places a quick silencing charm on the door. at ginny’s raised brow, he says, rather simply:

“for good measure.”

ginny snorts.

they’re silent as they get ready for bed, and harry lets himself sink deep into the warmth of it. they don’t get this too often, the pair of them; ginny’s spot in the harpies takes her across the world and, when harry’s not in some obscure town somewhere tracking some homicidal maniac or the other, kingsley has him on diplomatic missions across the continent. it grates at harry sometimes, how little he gets to be with his girlfriend, but ginny has games to play and championships to win and harry has people to catch and (every now and then) laws to change, and neither has any desire to stop anytime soon so they live with it. in his opinion, they’re pretty good at it. they know their limits. they carve time out for each other, always. harry makes it to all the big games, the ones she’s nervous about. ginny makes it to every stupid ceremony and the endless galas that make harry want to claw his eyes out. she keeps him going; he keeps her sane, and the rest they take as it comes, together. always together.

“harry,” her voice, light as the sun, breaks him out of his reverie. “where’d you go?”

“sorry,” he whispers back. “just in my head a bit.”

“that’s okay. it’s a nice head.”

“it’s a nice head?” he grins at her, knowing she’s caught. ginny rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her face, and when she’s done feigning her annoyance, she pulls him in for a kiss. it’s calm and confident and everything that is ginny and when they fuck, they look into each other’s eyes the entire time, and he’s reminded, with each thrust, of just how much he loves her.

***

when he wakes up, the room’s dark, the spot next to him is empty, and he can hear voices coming from below. his heart clenches for a minute, a piece of the war he’ll never be able to let go of, but it eases when he sees ginny’s wand, still on the table, still next to his.

he gets out of bed silently (mentally thanking his auror training) and makes the short walk down the hallway towards the stairs when he sees teddy’s door open too. before he has the chance to panic this time, though, he hears the boy’s laugh followed by ginny’s own giggle. there’s a smile on his face now that he knows ginny would tease him about if she could see it, but he honestly can’t help it. not when he’s in this house, full of a warmth that he’s finally, blessedly, allowed to be a part of. he spots them in the kitchen, but from their angle, he knows they can’t see him. ginny’s leaning against the counter, mixing something in a rather large bowl, while teddy’s sitting on the counter next to her, weirdly, waving a strawberry in the air.

“we gotta put it in!” he whispers, in the way five year-olds do, which isn’t much of a whisper at all. “harry loves strawberries!”

“strawberries in a birthday cake? i’m afraid you may be a genius, ted,” ginny announces in a quiet voice, while harry’s eyes fill with unshed tears. he stays glued to the spot for a bit longer, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he’s ruining their surprise, but not being able to turn away from his family. eventually though, he does. he climbs, silently, back up the stairs and slips back into his and ginny’s bed. when he falls back asleep, it’s with the ghost of a smile on his face and a feeling he doesn’t think he’s known until this moment.

***

he’s woken up in the morning by teddy trying to pull his arm off.

“wha-”

“come on,” the boy whines. “it’s breakfast!”

at that, harry wakes up instantly, feeling the guilt wash over him at the idea of leaving teddy without food. it’s only then that he smells the coffee in the air and realizes that ginny isn’t next to him. he breathes just then, quickly realizing that teddy isn’t hungry; he just wants harry awake.

“sorry, mate,” harry smiles at him guiltily, voice a bit rough with sleep. he lets ted drag him down stairs, the boy practically bouncing the entire way down. when they get to the kitchen, he’s met with ginny - long hair in a knot atop her head, eyes still a little sleep tired - grinning around a piece of toast.

“morning,” she smiles up at him and he gives her a lopsided grin in return.

“ginny, ginny, ginny,” teddy bounces next to her. “we’ve gotta do it now!” he whispers.

“we should probably let him eat first,” ginny whispers back.

“no! we gotta do it now!”

“alright, alright,” she responds. “harry,” she gestures to a seat, which harry takes, brows furrowed though he thinks he knows what’s coming. sure enough, ginny and teddy disappear for a few seconds, then come back with a slightly lopsided cake adorned in strawberries, a single candle lit in the middle. he beams the minute he sees them, which turns into an all out laugh the minute teddy starts up his rendition of ‘happy birthday’ which usually involves a lot of lyrics that never stay the same and none of them ever know. when ted’s done, ginny tells him to make a wish and harry asks teddy for help blowing out the candle.

they skip actual breakfast, choosing to tuck into the cake first. it’s sickly sweet and makes teddy smile from ear to ear, frosting covering his cheeks.

“like it, mate,” harry bemusedly asks. all teddy manages is a quick nod between bites, and harry knows he’ll regret letting the kid have two slices later on. but that’s later and this is right now and right now, he’s sat at a table with the two people he loves most in the world, eating a cake they made for him. right now, he’s celebrating - in his own, admittedly, small way -  a birthday his parents’ never got to. right now, he’s doing everything they wanted for themselves and him. right now (and everyday after), he’s their son, the same as he’s always been, keeping them alive with every breath he breathes, every birthday he celebrates. right now, he’s sat with the woman he loves, laughing as he watches his godson attempt to fit an entire strawberry in his mouth, so completely and ridiculously happy.

happy birthday, ginny mouths from over teddy’s head. harry smiles easily at her, love shining through his eyes, lighter than he’s ever been.

[expectingtofly]

What It Means to Love, 3k

established dean/cas, hurt/comfort, post 15x20, human!cas

day 2 of @thiscastielhasflown and i's follower celebration

prompt: hurt/comfort

“Dean, I am perfectly fine, I—” Cas paused, face scrunching up, then he sneezed before he could finish his sentence.

Dean took a step backwards. “Dude, gross! Seriously? Sneeze into your elbow. That’s like preschool 101.”

“Oh, then it’s so great that I went to preschool,” Cas said, managing to sound sarcastic even with his nose stuffed up. Dean winced as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his trenchcoat. “It’s not like I haven’t been a human for only three months.”

Right. “Yeah, well, guess this is the perfect introduction." How the hell did Cas manage to still look so adorable slumped against the kitchen counter, clothes wrinkled and nose red? “Welcome to humanity, you have a cold. Here, stop that.” He couldn't watch Cas wipe his nose on his sleeve again. They didn’t have tissues in the kitchen, but he grabbed a napkin and handed it to him. Dutifully, Cas took it and blew his nose. “What you need is to get in some comfier clothes, lay down, and get some sleep.”

Violating the few feet he'd put between them to stay clear of the germs, he stepped closer to loosen Cas' tie. Cas let him, saying, "I can still help research—"

"No, no." Cas leveled him with a glare, but it had lost its bite now that Dean knew he couldn't strike him dead with his angel grace. Okay, it was still pretty menacing. "I'm trying to save your ass. Sam will kill you if you sneeze on his laptop or precious books. Come on, take off the coat, you gotta be burning up."

He was helping Cas slip it off when Sam walked into the kitchen. “Ew, gross," he complained, covering his eyes with his hand, and Dean realized he was essentially undressing Cas in front of the kitchen island. "Get a room."

"Grow up," Dean said, draping Cas' coat and tie over his arm. Okay, so maybe they’d given Sam a reason to be on-guard now, but, "It's not what it looks like."

Sam lowered his hand, then frowned at Cas. "Woah. What happened to you?"

"I'm sick," Cas answered, as if that wasn't obvious enough by his glassy eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Well, uh, wash your hands," Sam said, stepping back as Cas started for the door, Dean following. "Don't wanna spread any germs. And try to stay out of the library."

"Told you," Dean whispered to Cas as they went down the hallway. In their room, he gestured for Cas to sit on the bed as he rummaged through their dresser. “T-shirt and sweatpants,” he said, handing them over.

Cas unbuttoned his white button-down which was identical to the dress shirts he always wore as an angel. Apparently old habits died hard—in this case, an affinity for business casual. Actually, maybe Cas getting sick and out of his old clothes was a good thing. Dean didn't know the last time the trenchcoat had been washed.

Collecting Cas' shirt and pants, he said, “I’ll get rid of these disease-ridden clothes.” He thought he caught Cas rolling his eyes as he pulled Dean’s sweatshirt over his head. "You watch TV or something, I’ll go see if we have cold medicine.”

After starting a load of laundry and raiding the medicine cabinets in the bathroom and cabinets in the kitchen, he returned to the room to find Cas sitting cross-legged under the covers of the bed, remote in his hands.

“Here, you go,” Dean said, handing over a warm mug. Ancient Aliens played on the TV; one of Cas' favorite pastimes was refuting every crazy claim and theory the show presented with his own recollections of the ancient times. “Sam said this tea will help. He ran out to get some medicine.”

Eagerly, Cas took the mug from him and took a large gulp, then coughed. "Ow. It's hot."

"Drink it slowly, idiot."

Cas took a more hesitant sip, then squinted up at him. "This tea is incredibly flavorless."

Dean snorted. "’Cause your nose’s clogged up. And you probably burned your tongue. Another joy of being human."

Groaning, Cas dropped his head back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. "Why is being human so difficult?"

Dean inwardly winced at that. Or thought he did so inwardly, but his expression must've revealed something because Cas glanced over at him, then straightened up, nearly spilling his tea. "Dean, I didn't mean anything by that."

Clearing his throat, Dean shrugged and sat down on the other side of the bed. "No, it's fine. You're right, being human sucks."

"And I wouldn't trade it for the world," Cas said.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Cas seemed about to say more, but then he sneezed. Into his elbow this time. Progress.

Ancient Aliens finished, and they got halfway through an episode of UFO Hunters before Cas started to nod off. Dean took the mug from him, and his eyes fluttered open, head jerking up. "I'm fine," he said.

"I know you're tired because you missed them saying aliens created the lost city of Atlantis."

Cas sniffled. "That's ridiculous. Everyone knows Atlantis was formed by—" He was interrupted by a yawn, and Dean made a mental note to return to that subject later.

“Come on, take a nap.”

“I am not a small child, Dean,” Cas protested, but he settled down anyway. Dean couldn’t resist adjusting the covers, essentially tucking him in. He wasn’t trying to baby him, but it was second nature seeing how miserable the guy looked. Turning off the lights, he went to the door. "You good? Need anything else?"

"No." Cas squinted one eye open to look at Dean over the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, and, fuck, if he wasn't still the most beautiful man Dean had ever seen, even sick as a dog. "Thank you."

A tiny alarm went off in Dean's brain about germs, but he returned to the bed to kiss Cas on the forehead anyway. True love, and all that. God, he was getting sappy in his old age.

Cas looked marginally better when he woke up from his nap. If marginally better meant pillow hair and pillow lines on his cheek. Well-rested, at least. He swallowed down the cold medicine Sam had brought home, complaining that he could taste enough to know the flavor was not, quote, "similar to anything occurring organically in nature."

"Whaddya wanna eat?" Dean asked him as he drained his glass of water. "And don't say PB and J," he added before Cas could speak.

Cas set his glass down on the nightstand and slid further down under the covers. "Anything that won't make my throat hurt more."

"My, uh, mom used to make me soup when I was sick."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Whatcha making?" Sam asked, coming into the kitchen. He lifted the lid of the pot on the stove and Dean snapped him with the towel.

"That's for Cas, back off."

"Wow," Sam said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "Look at you."

"Look at me what?" Setting aside the pot lid, he scraped the celery he'd been dicing from the cutting board into the pot.

Sam shrugged. "Taking care of Cas, making dinner, you're almost domestic."

Dean turned red and scrambled furiously for a comeback. "Yeah, and you're, you're still a little shit." Nailed it.

Sam laughed. "Wasn't an insult. Just meant, I don't know. Different for you, I guess."

Dean eyed him, stirring the soup. "Don't have much of a choice. Poor guy just turned human and he's already going through it."

"I think he's dealt with worse than a cold before."

"Yeah, well, wish he didn't have to deal with any of it." Any of it meant plenty. Between Dean’s own fuckups, world apocalypses, and near-death and actual death experiences, Cas had been through the ringer several times over. And now he was human—which, by all counts, wasn’t the worst thing he’d been through, but it wasn’t ideal. It’d been a rough transition, anyway.

Cas seemed better recently, though, since getting somewhat used to being human. And things were going well between them. Getting sick was just one tiny wrinkle compared to everything they’d been through, right?

He stared at the soup and startled when Sam straightened off the counter with a comment that Jack was out with friends, he was leaving for Eileen’s, have fun giving Cas a sponge bath. Dean flipped him off as he headed out the door.

When the soup was finished, he ladled a bowl full and returned to the bedroom. Cas looked up from his phone when Dean entered with the bowl of steaming soup. “Hear from Claire?” Dean asked, nudging the door shut with his foot.

“She says she and Kaia have almost closed up the case." He set his phone aside. “They’ll be able to visit soon.”

“You tell her you’re sick?”

“She was incredibly non-sympathetic—thank you." Cas took the bowl from him. “She seemed to find it amusing that I once ruled garrisons and now can’t go five minutes without sneezing.”

Dean tensed, hoping Cas wasn’t hurt by the comparison, but Cas didn’t look offended. “Sounds like her.”

"Yes.” He breathed in the steam coming from the bowl. “This smells incredible.”

"Family recipe," Dean joked, sitting down next to him. "Well, someone's family. Straight from some blog online. Think it's pretty close to what my mom would make." He watched Cas pick up his spoon, and added, "Don't tell Sam." He'd never hear the end of it if Sam knew he was reading mommy blogs.

"Your secret is safe with me."

Dean picked up the remote as Cas ate, wondering if he should give Claire a piece of his mind. Sure, Cas was pretty easy-going about the whole giving up his grace thing, but no need to rub it in his face. Becoming human had to feel pretty pitiful after ages of being an angel.

He was trying to make it better where he could, though. “You wanna watch a movie tonight? I'll let you pick because you're bedridden."

"I am not," Cas protested, though he looked more than a little pleased at the idea of getting to choose. Dean braced himself for whatever ridiculous romance or musical Cas insisted on watching now—to date, he'd been subjected to La La Land , the ending of which had reduced Cas to tears for the rest of the night; Pride and Prejudice, okay not too bad, though he'd never admit it; and You’ve Got Mail, dammit not bad enough for him to hate either.

Instead of suggesting a movie, though, Cas said, "You're very caring, Dean."

"Uh." Dean turned from cycling through the movie options on the TV to look at Cas. He felt himself turn red under the look Cas was giving him, head tilted, that fond almost-smile he got. "Yeah, uh. What I do."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "It is what you do. You're very good at taking care of others."

"Oh, God, don't start that." By that, he meant the long compliments Cas so shamelessly gave him now, like he'd been storing them up for a long time and was finally able to hand them out. It was like the dam had broken that night when Billie and the Empty—

But he didn't want to think about that. Not when all the events since that day had led to Cas now sitting in bed blowing his nose, the trashcan by the bed overflowing with tissues. Poor bastard; he'd gone through one whole Kleenex box already.

"I'm only going to stop because talking hurts too much," Cas told him, tossing a tissue at the trashcan and missing sorely. Dean grimaced.

They nearly got through Mama Mia before Cas dozed off, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position and Dean’s arm was half-asleep, but he refused to move. The mere fact that they were sitting together in bed, pressed against each other, was still enough to send him into shock anytime he thought about it too much. Cas—a literal former angel—had fallen in love with him. It was almost too good to be true.

But Cas was currently slumped against him, drooling on his shoulder, so he guessed it really was true.

As the credits rolled, he turned off the TV and touched Cas’ forehead with the back of his hand. Not as warm as before. At his touch, Cas blinked awake.

“It’s over already?”

“Whaddya mean, already? I just had to sit through two hours of singing and dancing.” It hadn’t been that torturous, but he couldn’t admit that—he had a reputation to uphold. Straightening, Cas rolled his eyes. “Feel any better?"

Cas’ expression turned thoughtful, as if taking stock of every physical sensation in his body, and Dean had to grin at his seriousness. He nodded. "Yes."

"Great.” He glanced at the time on the clock and realized it was later than he’d expected. “You probably wanna get some rest.”

Cas nodded with a yawn. "You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to."

Dean froze in the middle of pulling back the covers, mind immediately spinning out. "What?" They'd only started sharing a room a month ago, oh God, he'd known it was too good to be true, Cas was sick of him—

"I want you to," Cas said quickly, as if sensing Dean's downward spiraling. "I just don't want you to get sick."

Oh. Oh. Feeling a little sheepish for immediately jumping to the worst conclusions—one of his greatest talents, if he did say so himself—he shook his head. "Nah, I have a great immune system."

Cas' expression turned guilty and Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"About that..." Cas started slowly. Dean gave him a look. "Well, uh... Your immune system isn't quite as healthy as you think. I've been giving it a boost for the past several years, every time you started to get sick."

"What?" Looking back, it was pretty remarkable that he'd never gotten even a common cold with all the other shit they dealt with. "Fuck."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I should be thanking you. So, uh. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Of course Cas had been taking care of him for years, Dean thought, when they settled in bed and he turned off the lights. Cas told him he was caring, but it was Cas who was the caring one. He’d sacrificed his life for him, for Christ’s sake. Then gave up his grace to return to Earth because he wanted to be with Dean and Jack and Sam and everyone. The guy didn’t have a selfish bone in his body.

The thought should’ve been a comforting one, but instead he felt antsy, unable to stay still, shifting under the blankets.

Turning onto his side, he nudged Cas, whose eyes had fallen shut. With a grunt, Cas opened his eyes and looked over at him.

“You alright?” Dean asked, which wasn’t really what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“I was when I was falling asleep,” Cas grumbled. But he shifted to face Dean. In the faint light coming from the bunker hallway, Dean could see the concern in his eyes. It sent a pang through him. Cas had given up so much, and Dean was doing all he could to make sure he never regretted it, and Cas told him all the time that he was content with his choice, but still the worry sat heavy in his stomach.

"Listen,” he started. “I just wanna let you know that being human isn’t all bad. I swear it won’t be miserable forever. I know you've been introduced to the bad shit first, but—"

"That's not true," Cas interrupted, touching Dean’s hand resting between them. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Dean, being human has been the single most rewarding experience in my entire life second only to raising Jack. It started with you rescuing me from the Empty and revealing my feelings weren't unreciprocated like I thought. I would say that's far from miserable.”

"Yeah, but you had to adjust to living without your grace, and eating food, and getting sick..."

"It's been difficult, yes. I won't lie and say I enjoy bodily functions or sneezing or headaches. But I do enjoy being with you and eating chicken soup and watching absurd TV shows. I wouldn't change this for anything. Whatever happened in our lives, it led us here. And I’m happy with where we are.” He studied Dean for a moment before asking, quieter, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Dean hastened to say, because it was true. Fuck, it couldn’t be truer. “Of course. Just feel bad, I guess. That you gave up your grace and all that. Feel like I’ve hardly done anything.”

Castiel’s expression softened. “You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever dreamt of. And anyway, it’s not a competition, Dean. I take care of you, you take care of me. That’s what love is.”

Throwing that word around, love, still made Dean’s heart skip a beat. But it was true. He loved Cas and he’d do anything for him. The same, he knew, was true on Cas’ end.

Cas said it best, so he settled for lifting Cas’ hand and kissing his knuckles.

“I would kiss you," Cas said, smiling, "but I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Screw it," Dean said, and propped himself up on an elbow to kiss him. Then he shifted, turning over and pulling Cas’ arm to wrap around him. Even if the bastard was sick, Dean was making him be the big spoon.

"For the record,” he said, feeling Cas curl around him. “I wouldn't change anything either."

And he meant it. Even when he woke up the next morning with a sore throat and stuffed up nose. Cas—who seemed to have gotten over the worst of his cold—took only one look at him before declaring it was his turn to play doctor, throwing extra blankets at him and demanding the chicken soup recipe in a flurry of activity.

He’d take care of Cas, and Cas would take care of him. It sounded like a good life, Dean thought, settling back against the pillows with a smile. He wouldn't change a thing.

[beauvibaby]

boudoir - j.benn

a/n: not proofread, but plus size reader x Jamie  😌

“Babe? You got a package.” Jamie called into the house, you heard the crinkle of a shipping bag in his hand and raised your eyebrows, trying to remember what you had ordered. A gasp fell from your lips as you realized what it was, Jamie froze, halfway to setting it down on the counter when you came bounding down the hallway, all but stealing the package from his grasp. “Well, hello to you too.” He mumbled in confusion as you put the bag behind your bag, you laughed under your breath, “hi babe.” You stepped forward to kiss him quickly. “Why so secretive?” He raised an eyebrow at you. You bounced on your feet, a girlish smile on your face, “it’s part of your anniversary present.” You admitted. “Part?” He asked as you turned and started walking away, “wait, our anniversary isn’t for another month?!” He added, “perfection takes time, Jamie!” You shouted in response.

When Jamie left for a game a couple of nights later, you tried on the set you had gotten online, finding yourself more than happy with the way the lingerie fit you. Normally it was a hassle to find something that fit you properly, that gave your curves the right type of definition, and this was definitely, definitely that.

The photo shoot went even better than you could have imagined, the photographer was kind and patient, directing you to pose in certain ways, and assuring you that you looked amazing— that you and Jamie both would love what came from the session. You’d don’t plenty of research on boudoir shoots, finally setting one up with someone who was used to doing plus size shoots.

You walked into the house, giddy and nervous to see the final pictures from the photo shoot you’d just done, you knew it would be a few days until they were finished, but the excitement was still there. “Hey.” Jamie smiled, turning to look at you over the back of the couch, he did a double take as he saw the makeup on your face that he was certain wasn’t there when you left. “Got a secret man I should be worried about?” He teased as you walked over to him, you leaned down to kiss him, smiling against his lips when he put his hand there to hold you in place a little longer. “You look pretty, baby.” He murmured, pecking you once more before letting you go. “Thanks.” You giggled, reaching out to wipe some of the red lipstick off of him, he complained as you teased him for it. “What did you do today?” He questioned, pausing whatever show he was watching as you did your small routine like hanging up your purse and putting away your shoes. “Hung out with some of my friends, got lunch, nothing special.” You explained, the whole thing being a lie, a good lie of course. “Did you have fun?” He asked, watching you like a lost puppy, “yes.” You answered with a breathy laugh as you caught his gaze. “Did you miss me?” You teased, your only response being a wide smile.

***

You nearly bounded into her studio, eager to pick up Jamie’s anniversary present on your way home from work. “Hi, Y/N.” Sheila laughed as you walked in with a grin, she handed the leather bound album right over, she anxiously watched you open it, “oh my god.” You gasped, hand shooting to your mouth as you looked through the pictures of yourself, you saw yourself completely different now. You felt like you were on top of the world, “Sheila, oh my god, thank you.” You looked over at her, “of course!” She grinned, happy to see your reaction. “Be sure to tell me what Jamie thinks.” She added with a giggle,

“Jamie?” You shouted into the house, you’d spent the last ten minutes in the car trying to figure out what to write on the blank page on the book. You settled on a sentimental message for your husband, putting the book back into the box before heading inside.

“Office!” He called out in response, you were about to kick your heels off and head for him, but you bit your lip and decided on keeping them on, letting them click along the floor as you walked towards Jamie’s office. “I’m about to do an interview.” He spoke as he clicked away on the computer, he glanced up at you and saw the happy smile on your face as you leaned against the doorway. “Alright, guess I’ll just give you this when you’re done.” You smiled over at him, slightly shaking the box, he raised an eyebrow, “ok, I shouldn’t be too long.” He laughed softly as you nodded eagerly. “I’ll be in the bedroom.” You called already clicking your way down the hall. He stared at the door curiously for a moment, wondering what it was that you had gotten him.

***

It felt like an eternity but in reality it was only forty five minutes until your husband came padding down the hall to find you. “Hey, babe.” He hummed, seeing you stretched out on the bed, your work clothes long gone as you wore one of his shirts and some leggings. He chuckled as you popped up, “come here.” You demanded eagerly, it was a couple of days early, but you couldn’t wait any longer, this had been nearly a month in the making. “Wow, my day was good, thanks.” He teased, joining you against the headboard where you were now sitting, you laughed and pulled him in for a kiss. “I missed you, how was your day Jam?” You asked as he plopped down beside you, hooking an arm over your shoulder, “better now.” He quipped, reaching for the box. “It’s a little early, but it’s your anniversary present.” You mumbled, he grinned over at you, slowly pulling the lid off the box. You turned to be facing him more as he moved the tissue paper aside, his eyebrows furrowed as he lifted the leather book out, he pushed the box away and set the book down on his lap, flipping the cover open and reading your message.

He pulled you in for a quick kiss, “I love you.” He mumbled, caressing your cheek for a moment, “I love you too.” You whispered, biting your lip as he flipped the page over, he froze for a moment, eyes widening s bit. He shut the book dramatically, looking over at you, you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. “Keep going.” You encouraged, scooting closer to him as he moved to the next page of the book, “oh my god.” He muttered under his breath as he continued flipping through the book. You giggled as he threw his head back with a breathy chuckle as his face reddened. “Baby, these are, wow. You’re gorgeous.” He gasped, so in awe of what he was looking at.  “The last one is my favorite.” You admitted as he reached the end, he flipped to the last page, smirking as he looked at the photo of you on the floor, head resting on the front of a couch seat, back arched, one hand on your bent knee, the other pushing your hair up as you looked directly into the camera, lips parted in a smug smile.

“You know what I think?” He spoke up, holding the book out in front of the two of you, your favorite picture staring back at you. “What?” You asked softly, confused as to what he was going to say. “I say that I order a big print of this to hang up.” He teased, sending you into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, that’s not happening Jamie.” You pushed on his shoulder lightly, shrieking as he tossed the book down to the edge of the bed, quickly moving over you. “You’re the best wife ever.” He mumbled, kissing across your face, “I love those pictures, but I love even more that they made you feel so good about yourself.” He admitted, smiling against your lips as you quickly pulled him in for a kiss. “You know,” you started, rolling your head to the side as he kissed across your neck, “they do couples shoots too.” You watched him lift his head up, giving you a curious look. “Mhm, no, I’d much rather look at you in lace than me.”

taglist: @heybarzy​ @kiedhara​ @anxietyandtacos​ @literarycharleton​ @miracleonice87​

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

My dear little man (cat) is back home and healing after a stroke so now that my heart is back inside of my body I am here to list off just some of my (many) favorite things you have written. I’m keeping it to 5 because that seems reasonable.

I’m sorry to hear you’re having such a rough go of writing at the moment. Hopefully some effusive praise will, at the very least, distract from that. Here we go, in no particular order:

1. The Audition from WATJP

This whole fic is so excellent. Truly delicious writing. (Could I do five favorites just from WATJP? yes, yes I could) I love the relationships between James/Sirius/Remus/Peter - you’re always so good at setting up a clear and interesting dynamic between everyone with just your dialogue. I’m especially delighted by this after James has raised his hand - the interaction between James, Remus, and Sirius there is so funny and lived-in and real.

Of course, your banter between Lily and James is top notch, but I love how you can show so much of their relationship dynamic and their chemistry when they’re speaking someone else’s words.

2 - 3. James’ tells and general misinterpretations in (The Mostly Unwilling Participants on) The Bachelor

It’s so fun in this fic to watch James figure out that he’s into Lily - it’s not a dynamic we get to see often and you roll it out so beautifully - where there are tells long before James knows how to articulate it. One of my favorite examples is in Chapter 5, when you do this, first with James’ enthusiasm growing every time Lily plays along, and then with:

“"You’re not even his type!"

James’s sharp "Ha!" likely made it across the room, through the open (and stupidly) French doors onto the patio, and halfway across the garden.”

and finally with him getting so caught up that he hugs Lily.

You capture so much about the behavior of two people utterly smitten with one another and it makes my heart all fluttery!

Something else I love about your fics where you write from either James or Lily’s perspective is how you write their misinterpretations of each other’s behavior or words - it’s such a fun unreliability that, obviously creates some of the best dramatic irony. In this same chapter (because you are, despite how you may be feeling, rather prolific) is one of my favorite examples of this, with Lily’s pov:

“Clearly, the best she was going to get from James was confirmation that she'd been foisted upon him by Rita Skeeter, and a blokey comparison to a bloody dinosaur.

A velociraptor, of all things.

Dinosaurs were wicked cool, it was true, and she understood the compliment it implied, but he might as well have punched her in the shoulder and referred to her as dude for all the good it had done her. The resulting effect would have been exactly the same.”

*chef’s kiss*

4. James’ humor in Salmon Fishing in the Olympics

Ahhh, another that I love so much. James’ humor is especially delightful here. I feel like other people have brought up specific excellent quotes from this fic, but again:

She comes to a standstill in front of him. "As if you're allowed to eat at McDonald's."

"I'm not, but I sometimes press myself up against their windows."

"What a treat for the diners."

"Puts them right off their nuggets."

..

"What kind of car do you drive?"

"I—er—" Vernon is taken aback by the change in subject, but can never resist an opportunity to discuss his car. Lily has taught James well. "An Audi A4. What car do you drive?"

"None," says James. "I sprint everywhere."

Vernon blinks stupidly. "Everywhere?"

"Yeah, but I can only do it in 200 metre bursts. It took months to get to Rio."

..

"They always let me skip the queue at Starbucks because I'm a national hero."

"I hate you."

are all a sheer delight.

5. All the pining in Shelf Awareness

I’ve read this approximately 128 times because obviously your writing + bookshop setting is perfection for me. And my goodness, the chemistry of it all!

He's so fit that she can't look him directly in the eye without a tell-tale, inconvenient, irrepressible smile that screams, 'I want to wear you like pyjamas,' which makes her feel guilty for looking in the first place—she has a boyfriend, after all, and she's never been the kind of girl to flirt about when she's with someone—so she shrugs and buries her nose in her phone while he scans in the rest of the books.

Or: “smiling at her in a way that makes her feel like her secrets aren't her own” - I mean, come on! The economy of that. A whole culinary school’s worth of chef’s kisses.

All of this is to say that you are a terrific writer and I’m always happy to revisit your writing because it’s so full of humor and pining and banter. Every one of your characters are full, amusing and entertaining and so specific.

Also apologies for the wonky formatting - I am frustrated with my thumbs at the moment.

I don't really have words. I'm just sobbing reading this. I can't believe you took the time to write it all and send it to me, especially when you've just been through the ringer yourself. You have no idea how much this this means to me, no idea. I'm in tears. I'm so glad that your cat is recovering. Actual tears. Thank you so much.

Also I forgot to tag @fetchalgernon because she's responsible for James in Bachelor fic and she 100% deserves credit for that <3

[thinkingimmensely]

Like An Open Book X

Part 1 | Part 9 | Part 11

A/N: Hello everyone! We’re halfway through the first month of 2021 and here’s a new chapter for y’all! Comments are very much appreciated <3 I want to know what you guys think of the story so far, it also gives me motivation to write more really :D  

This chapter is quite long, I didn’t want to cut it halfway through since it breaks the momentum thingy haha, I hope you guys don’t mind and enjoy it! <3

MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything from the Potterverse!

___________________

Remus and James had jumped into the water creating a wave that hit you, Sirius, and Peter. The boys soon started a wrestling match, with James up on Remus’ shoulders while Sirius was up on Peter’s.

You laughed as you watched Sirius successfully topple James down, winning the first round of their little wrestling match.  

It was the first time you were actually laughing out loud with people you considered as friends, you realized, and if you dwelled on the thought, you felt like crying out of the happiness that filled you right now.  

Because you were someone to them, you finally found a place where you belonged… but, will they still have you even though you had the ability to know their every nook and cranny? You knowingly frowned, then wiped it off your features.  

“I’m feeling a bit knackered, I’m going to rest for a while!” You called out to the boys and they replied with a chorus of okay’s and aright’s. You swam back to shore and got off the water with ease. You sat on the blanket Remus had spread out earlier and wrapped a towel around yourself; you were already beginning to dry, what with the sun harshly beating down on you.  

You would’ve used a drying spell but then you already used that whip earlier and you wouldn’t want to try and press the Ministry’s buttons with using so much underage magic. Thank Merlin Legilimency couldn’t be detected then, since you’d no doubt be behind bars with the number of times you’ve used it outside of Hogwarts.

You sighed, you wondered what Lily was doing right now; you hoped she was having as much fun as you were. She had written to you a few days ago saying that although she still finds James and company (excluding Remus) quite irritating, she was really glad you were having a grand time. She had also attached a picture of herself with the Eiffel Tower behind her. Your thoughts soon drifted off to a certain Slytherin student; you considered him a friend who knew you as well as you knew him. You’ve been inside Severus Snape’s mind too many times that you could read him as easy as an open book, and you’ve seen his fascination with the dark arts and his inner struggle to try and change his views about this whole mess.  

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about him anymore; despite his gloomy and snarky attitude, he was good company, and a good student. You just wished your memories about the time Mulciber and the others attacked you came back, maybe then you’d understand why Severus was hellbent on ignoring you; and if only Severus stood still for a moment, you could just peek and get the answers yourself.

Your train of thought was soon cut short as the boys got out of water and were heading your way, big smiles on their faces as they chatted. You cast a smile their way as they came near enough, your thoughts about Severus and your lost memories tucked into the back of your mind for now.

-

“Hey Y/N, how do I look?” Sirius asked as he came into view by your doorway. You turned to look at him and chuckled as he twirled around for good measure. He adorned an all-Black attire, with his black shirt, skinny black jeans, combat boots and a leather jacket.

“Like you’re ready for a rock concert.” You commented. He flashed his white pearls at you and came inside the room as you were just finishing up your preparations, pocketing your wand in your hoodie, you turned back to Sirius just in time to catch his pushing his long hair back his shoulders, “Do you want me to tie your hair up? I figured it might be annoying if you leave it down later.”

“Good idea!” He chirped and sat down on a stool by the vanity dresser. You came up behind him and scooped his curls in your hands, taking time to do it as neatly at possible, and tied it up with an extra elastic band. Sirius admired himself in the mirror, “My, don’t I look dashing?” He said then stood up as you snorted. 

“Like a masterpiece.” 

“Darling, may I commend you on your keen eye on beauty?” The both of you broke out laughing and Sirius wrapped an arm around your shoulders and smiled down at you fondly, “Anyway, I’m here to pick you up, the others are already waiting downstairs, and may I add, are itching to go. So, shall we?” He dropped his hand off your shoulder and offered his arm instead.

You shook your head and found this all so silly, but you hooked your arm with his nonetheless. “We shall.” The both of you teetering on your way down, arms linked together. James gave you two a confused look when you came into view, but decided not to say anything. You moved away from Sirius when Remus came out of the kitchen, cookie in hand. “Quick snack before we go?”  

Remus smiled at you, “There’s more in the kitchen, I see you eyeing my cookie. Get your own.”

You placed a hand on your chest at mock-hurt, “Ouch Rem, what ever happened to sharing?”

“This is Sirius’ fault no doubt,” Remus said, then turned to the gray-eyed boy, “look what your influence has done to her; she’s as sassy as you.”  

“Oi, it’s time to go!” James called out from the doorway.

“Now you kids be careful!” Euphemia doted, “Always carry your wands with you.”

James nodded as the rest of you piled outside, “Don’t worry mum, we’ll be back at dawn!”  

When your group arrived at the area where the concert was held, there was already a swarm of people out and about.  Remus placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder as you guys braved the crowd.  The five of you soon found a spot beside a trailer, Sirius already had a few girls chatting him up while Peter hung on to their every word. Remus and James kept you grounded with all the muggles around and their hearts on their sleeves. They distracted you with conversations and jokes that you didn’t even notice the time that passed until the concert was starting in a couple of minutes.

The swarm of people started gathering and despite Remus’ best efforts to at least provide you with some space to personal space, you found yourself struggling to breathe as strangers pressed upon you as they headed near the stage to get a better view.  

“I’m gonna go buy something to drink!” Sirius informed you guys over the cheers of the crowd as the band took to the stage. 

Your ears were ringing and you grabbed Sirius by the sleeves of his jacket, “I’ll come with!” You shouted back. Sirius gave you a look of surprise but nodded nonetheless and the two of you dispersed from the rest. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as the two of you approached a stall where they sold a variety of drinks. It wasn’t as crowded in this area compared to earlier since the concert just started.  

“All right?” Sirius asked as you fanned yourself with your hands.  

“Of course.” You replied as Sirius took the can of root beer and fished out a couple of muggle currency out of his pocket. He eyed it then flashed you a sheepish look. You rolled your eyes, chuckling lightly as you helped him pay, getting the right amount and handing it to the vendor.

He popped the lid of the can open releasing some fizz, and took a gulp. “Ack, I didn’t think beer would taste like this. Do muggles really get drunk with this?”  

You raised a brow. “Are you serious?”

He furrowed his brows at you, “Yes???”

You shook your head, “I mean, that’s root beer, it isn’t alcoholic. I think it’s more soda actually.”

Sirius frowned and looked at the drink in his hand and took another gulp. He shrugged, “Kind of reminds me of butterbeer.” You laughed at that. He offered you the drink and you gladly took a a few gulps before giving it back to him, your thirst quenched for the time being.

You two were about to head back to the others when another group of girls crowded Sirius saying they just wanted to chat a bit. He had cast you a hesitant look before you waved him off, telling him that you’d wait for him. And wait you did, quite awkwardly at the side until someone suddenly grabbed your hand and pulled you away in haste. “What the bloody hell!” You exclaimed and snatched your hand away but the person turned to look at you. It was a he, and his eyes stormed with panic.   “What are you doing here?!” He snapped as he pulled you further away from the crowd, you willingly followed this time, your mind still not believing the fact the he was actually here.  

“I should be asking you that. I thought you didn’t hang out with muggles, Sev?” You tried to stay calm, but now that he was talking to you, you felt your nerves tangling up inside of you. For weeks he hadn’t said a word to you and now he’s snapping at you? 

Severus ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “We don’t have time for this. You need to leave. Now.” He warned, “Something is about to happen and-” he was about to say but you cut him off, “What do you mean? You- you've been ignoring me for weeks and now... now you show up from who knows where and tell me to leave?”

He placed his hands on your shoulders, “If you think of me as your friend like you always say I am, then trust me when I say that it’s not safe here. They’re coming!”  

“They’re?” You asked but before Severus could reply, people with masks and hoods over their heads apparated to the crowd from thin air, cackling noises vibrating throughout the area; people soon began shouting in shock and confusion. “No...” You whispered horridly. Death Eaters. You were about to run back to the crowd on instinct but Severus grabbed your hand. You whipped towards him, “Let me go! The others are still there!” You cried out.  Green blasts lit at random places in the crowd while another batch of wizards and witches arrived, the cackling caused by apparation being overlapped by screams and spells. The new group battled the Death Eaters immediately, so they must be Aurors sent by the Ministry.

Muggles ran past the both of you, and someone slammed right into you and Severus, releasing the boy’s hold on you. You took this opportunity to get up and sprint back to search for your friends. You could feel your eyes prickle with unshed tears, of course Severus knew, he was one step away from joining them. “Sirius! Remus!” You shouted through the swarm of people. “Peter! James!” Shouts echoed the area as the people escaped, they’d never hear you at this rate. Hopelessness started to engulf you as dread filled your body. Everyone was scared you could hear everyone’s screams and you could slowly feel yourself lose your strength; you could feel yourself lose your own thoughts.

E c h o e s

Your mind was like a cave that had voices bouncing off its walls; echoing deeper in its crevice.

You’ve lost yourself in that cave countless of times before, each one was not a moment you looked back on fondly. Now you’re back and it seemed like the rocky walls of thoughts were closing in on you.

C    l   o   s  i  n g   r i g h t   in

Covering your ears didn’t help, but you did it anyway. People were running amok; children were being separated from their parents, friends were losing each other in the crowd and you couldn’t focus even if you had to- the voices in reality was being mixed with the ones in your head.

Everyone was screaming.

You felt someone pull you away just as a flash of green hit the spot where you just stood.

You didn’t even know who he was.

“Y/N, are you all right?!” The person shook you, and you looked into hazel eyes that were wide with worry and fright. His hands held you by your shoulders in a vice-like grip and you were pretty sure he wasn’t even aware of it himself. “Stay with me. Focus on me.” His voice left no room for argument and you found yourself keenly aware of how close your bodies were. If the both of you weren’t stuck in this life-or-death situation, you would’ve turned into a million shades of red right now.

The both of you were hunched back behind some bushes, shielding you from the sight of any Death Eater around the area. He pried your hands away from your ears, his eyes never leaving yours, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”  

You didn’t realize you were crying until now, but everything in your head seemed quieter as James Potter’s thoughts drowned everyone else’s away. I’ll keep you safe, we’ll get out of here, we’ll get out. You breathed in a shaky breath and got your wand out of the pocket of your hoodie. “I won’t let anything happen to you too.”

You wiped your tears away and steeled your resolve. James pulled you up and held your hand tightly as you went around, trying to find your three friends. “Protego Duo!” You cast just as one of the Death Eaters was about to blast an Auror from behind.  

“Stupefy!” James shouted and it hit the Death Eater square in the chest, making him fall backwards with a thud.  

DIE  

Merchant stalls caught on fire from Incendio, smoke erupting from the flames. You wiped your tears on the sleeve of your hoodie as James screamed for the names of your friends. He had long let go of your hand as the two of you cast spell after spell in defense and retaliation. 

IMPURE

Someone had slammed into you again, sending you to the ground in a hard thud, your head hurt from the impact and the person paid no heed to you as he scrambled up and continued to run away.  

MUDBLOOD

Muggles cry out as green hits them. How many has fallen? James had rushed to your side to pull you back up, and you groaned in pain as you did.  

DIE

You whipped your attention behind you and saw the Death Eaters duel against Aurors. Someone seemed to float past the turmoil, unperturbed by the events and your blood ran cold. The man had snake-like features, his eyes were scarlet and his face, masklike. And throughout everyone, his eyes locked on to you and a sinister smile slowly spread on his face, time seemed to slow down, but not in a good way. His cruel entity radiated out of him and his thoughts made you want to hurl.

“Ah, a Legilimens!” He shouted, and despite all the noise around, his voice still boomed and everyone paying attention still heard him. A mistake. You made a mistake and now he knows. “And also well-versed in Occlumency I see.” He grinned, and you knew he tried to go into your subconscious as well.  

“James,” You croaked out as the boy stepped in front of you, wand drawn, you didn’t want him to find out this way. You wanted to be able to tell them yourself when you were ready.

The Auror you saved shielded the both of you, shouting that you needed to escape.  

“There is no need!” The snake-like man announced, “There is no escape from the Dark Lord!” He howled, “Avada Kedavra!” He yelled and the Auror dropped dead as the spell hit him square in the chest. You couldn’t even scream.

Shivers ran down your spine. This was him; this was Lord Voldemort in the flesh. Why was he here? Didn’t he usually leave little events to his followers? “You girl,” He called out to you and stretched out his hand, “Your talents will not be wasted if you join me! This is the first time I met a child blessed with such prowess of Legilimency! You may be only second to me! The boy beside you shows great potential as well, the both of you will rise up in my ranks with your skills!” Even though it seemed like he was complimenting you, his cold and steely tone held no such impression.

You gripped your wand tightly, ready for any sudden movements as sweat trickled down your forehead at the suspense. You glanced at James; the boy never took his eyes off of the Dark Lord and anger burned behind those hazel eyes.

“We will never join you!” James snapped and flicked his wand towards a fallen log and propelled it towards Voldemort and his other death eaters. The both of you took this opportunity to escape, never bothering to look back.  

Voldemort bellowed at the petty trick, instantly blasting the log into pieces. “Leave them!” He commanded his followers when they were about to pursuit. “There will be many chances in the future.”  

-

“Remus! Peter!” James exclaimed in relief as he saw the two. The four of you reunited and Peter was bawling his eyes out in fright, his hand that held his wand tightly was trembling vigorously as he held it up in defense.

The three boys looked haggard and you figured you were as well. All of you stayed on your guard as the battle still raged on. “We need to find Sirius and get away from here.” James said and the rest of you nodded in agreement.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Remus casted, hitting a Death Eater, disabling him from making any movements. You didn’t have to look for long when Peter spotted Sirius dueling with someone a few meters from where you stood.  

“Peter, look out!” You shout and tackled the blonde boy to the ground as a spell flew by the both of you and hit another person instead. “Immobulus!” James shot at the perpetrator while Remus shot him with a Flipendo, sending him backwards. You helped Peter up, the boy looking absolutely distraught about that near-death experience but still continued on with the rest of you.

“Wouldn’t it be great if you joined us, cousin?!” A woman with wild, curly, black hair exclaimed as she shot spell after spell at your gray-eyed friend. You could feel the bloodlust radiating off of her as she had no qualms on dueling against her family member. Bellatrix Lestrange, or as you knew her back then, Bellatrix Black.  

“In your wildest dreams, Bella!” Sirius retaliated with a smirk as he countered her every spell, hex, and dodge every curse. Unlike the other Death Eaters, Bellatrix didn’t wear a robe nor a mask to cover who she was. She was quite proud to be a follower of Voldemort and was sure to flaunt it.  

A flash of green light burst in the sky all of a sudden, which made all of you look up and halting all duels. A colossal skull decorated the sky in a flurry of green smoke until it etched itself on the black sky like a new constellation. A snake protruded from its mouth like a tongue. The Dark Mark. 

Now, just as sudden as the Death Eaters arrived, they vanished, leaving the aftermath of destruction in their wake. An eerie silence enveloped the area as the Aurors made quick work on damage control. The muggles that escaped were soon tracked and obliviated of any memory of magic that transpired.  

You stared into the distance. Your throbbing head soon healed as a healer made quick work of any injuries the five of you may have sustained. “Your use of underage magic today will be overlooked as an act of self-defense.” An Auror informed you and your companions.  

You sighed, “Can we go home now?” You were exhausted, all of you were, and James’ parents were probably pacing themselves in worry. The Auror looked at you, thinking. He was as tired as you guys were, and he surely didn’t want to deal with students right now.  

“Of course. We will contact you if we have additional questions. Now, you shall be escorted-” He was about to say but James cut him off, “No it’s fine. My place isn’t far from here...”

You zoned out of the conversation when the Auror started explaining the need for an escort and James insisting that the lot of you could look after yourselves, your focus shifted to the people being obliviated. The flash of the wand as the spell was cast seemed so familiar, yet so foreign. You placed a hand on your head as flashes of darkness appeared in your mind. You suddenly stood up, much to the surprise of your friends, and you approached one of the Obliviators.  

“Excuse me,” You said. The Obliviator finished her task and turned to look at you and raised a brow in question. You bit your lower lip in nervousness, “Um, would it be alright if I asked some questions about Obliviate?”

The woman faced you fully, letting out a kind smile. “Of course. What would you want to know?”

You ran a hand through your hair, “I- is it possible for the people who were obliviated to regain their memories?” You asked, “How would you know that you’ve been obliviated before?”

The Obliviator placed a hand on her chin in thought, “Well,” she started, “For one, you wouldn’t know if it was casted on you as long as it was properly cast.” She informed you and thought some more, “As for regaining memories, there are various ways of breaking the Memory Charm. Torture, for one. I heard the Death Eaters are especially fond of that; also, if the charm that was cast isn’t as strong, a simple memory potion should do the trick. There are different levels of the charm, so it’s very important to have full focus when casting it. If it’s too strong it could cause brain damage, or even worse, death. But if it’s too weak, there would be a high chance of the person regaining their memories.”  

You nodded, engraving her words into your head, maybe this was the answer. “Thank you.” The woman nodded in reply and walked away to obliviate yet another unconscious muggle. Remus stood up as you headed back to them.  

“All right?” He questioned as he placed his hands on your arms. You looked up at him, his brown eyes glinting off worry. You gulped.  

“As I’ll ever be.” You replied. Remus’ mouth formed a thin line on his face; he didn’t believe you. But he chose not to pry any further, which you were glad for. They informed you that the Auror was going to Apparate you guys to James’ house and explain the situation to his parents.  

When you arrived, the door slammed open and Euphemia and Fleamont rushed out, the former in tears as she pulled all five of you in a bone-crushing hug. Fleamont and the Auror moved a few meters away to discuss everything that happened as Euphemia hounded the lot of you inside.  

After warm baths and a change of clothes, all of you retreated to bed. You were by yourself in the guest room while the boys shared James’ room. You wished you could go to them right now; you didn’t want to be alone.  

You stared at the ceiling of the room as you laid in bed that night. Sleep eluded you and your thoughts plagued you. Someone may have obliviated yours and the Slytherins’ memories about the fight at Hogwarts, you didn’t know who it was and why they did what they did, but you were bent on figuring it out. 

Also now, Voldemort knew your ability and wanted you to join his army. You doubt this would be the last time you come face to face with the Dark Lord, war was brewing and even with the safety Hogwarts provided you as students, you would ultimately have to graduate and leave. You had to tell Dumbledore about all this, you decided and immediately stood up to write him a letter. 

Quill in hand, you realized your hand still shook from the shock of earlier’ s attack. You took in a deep breath in hopes to help still your mind. Your penmanship wasn’t the best right now but it would have to do with your current state. It was cold and you missed the familiar warmth of the bespectacled boy’s hand in yours and the protection it provided. James was like a pillar that kept you grounded that time...

James... you set down your quill midway the letter, the color draining from your face as realization dawned. James knew. He knew you were a Legilimens now.

___________________ 

LAOB Taglist:

@serenefreakgeek , @rising-ice-phoenix , @lilmissimperfectlyperfect , @criminallygoodimagines , @lookingformarissa , @fantasticchaoticwho , @bestillmystuckyheart , @stubbornflowerchild , @julygivesafuck , @clockworkherondale , @nikki-sixx-is-daddy , @sarai-ibn-la-ahad

Permanent Taglist: @oreofrappiewithblueberry​ , @coffeeismylife28​ , @yllwtaxi​ , @tb-cbn

[inkstainedfanfics]

Cinnamon Latte

Request:  Hey there! May I request something for the au trope prompt? Cedric Diggory + coffee shop!au + strangers to lovers + 23: “you know that your book is upside down, right?” I’m a hoe for both Cedric Diggory and coffee shop au’s😭

Word Count: 2,983

Pairing: Cedric x Reader

Requested by: @badass-dora-milaje

He first comes in on a Monday, frazzled, blond hair messy and stuck to his forehead from the rain outside. He’s cute, you decide, as he stands in front of your register, looking up to the menu board with a hopeless look.

“Need some help?” You ask, setting aside the dishes you’d been cleaning. You’re alone in the store, one of your first shifts by yourself since you started working here a month ago, and you’re intent on making a good impression. Alone means you get complete control of the music, and it’s not like the store ever gets super busy after the morning rush, anyway, so you have plenty of time to read between orders. And in this small town you’ve only just moved to, people’s orders are predictable, meaning you can have most of them ready to go by the time they come flying through the doors.

But this guy is new, and he sure looks like it as he looks to you with pink cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a little lost.”

“You look like it. What do you like?” You ask as you dry your hands.

“Ummm, water?”

You laugh. “You can’t come into a coffee shop and leave with just water. Come on, there must be something you’ll like. How about a cinnamon latte?”

He shrugs, still utterly hopeless, but you take that as a yes.

“Great! That’ll be two sixty-five.”

As he counts out his change, you start making the latte. It’s one of the simpler drinks to make here, which is only half the reason you chose to recommend it. As you do, thunder rumbles outside, and you dare a glance back at the guy at the counter. He’s clad in a sweater and jeans, no jacket. Isn’t he cold? While late fall isn’t necessarily freezing here, it’s certainly not wonderfully warm, especially in a rainstorm.

“Do you,” he asks as he sets the last coin on the counter, “live around here?”

“I’m new here, actually. Just moved here a couple months back. What about you?”

“I grew up here.”

“No kidding? It’s a nice enough town. Or, what I’ve seen of it, at least.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “I just haven’t really gotten out to see much of it yet.”

He leans against the counter, head cocked to the side as he watches you put the whipped cream atop the coffee. “Why not?”

“It’s so small that everyone feels…close. Like, I don’t know.” Your cheeks warm. “It’s really nothing. I’ve just been busy with work here and…” and nothing, really. The town just seems so close-knit that there’s no room for you. The drink’s done, though, so you have an excuse to trail off. “Here,” you say, setting the drink in front of him. “One of my personal favorites.”

He picks it up gingerly. You’d made it to-go, since few of the town’s residents ever lingered in the tiny lobby, with its two tables and single booth, but the man seems in no rush to leave. Because of the storm outside or your company, you’re not quite sure.

“It won’t hurt you,” you say as he carefully takes a small sip. “So?”

“Delicious,” he says, though he’s unable to hide his grimace.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s…strong?”

“I’ll put less cinnamon in next time.”

“It’s not that. It’s the coffee.”

“Espresso,” you correct.

“Espresso?” He raises his eyebrows. “Oh no.”

“It’s fine. It’s not that much. I can use coffee next time, too. That’ll be weaker.”

“No. No.” He squares his shoulders like this is some fight with the drink. “I need to get used to drinking coffee.”

“Why’s that?”

His cheeks tinge pink. “I just…it’s something all my friends like to drink,” he says, though he stares determinedly at the drink.

“Where do they get their coffee from?” Most of the people you see rushing through here are older, harried fathers and mothers rushing to work. Not many younger adults. “I haven’t seen many younger people come through.”

He rubs the back of his neck again. “Down the street?”

“There’s a coffee place down the street?” You must’ve failed to have seen it, then, because you could swear this is the only shop in the small town.

“Yeah. It’s small. Nothing, really. Do you, uh, do you like coffee?”

“Well, I do work at a coffee shop.”

He sighs and looks down to his drink. “I’ll like it. Eventually.”

You pick up a rag to wipe up the espresso that had splashed on the back counter. “Are you staying here long? Because I’d be careful sitting on those chairs if I were you. I don’t think anyone’s used them in years.”

He seems about to say something when he notices the clock above the espresso machine. “Is that the time?”

You glance at it. It’d been broken earlier, but you’d managed to dig some batteries out of the back of a drawer in the office and set it this morning. “Yep.”

“Shoot. I’m late.” He begins to back up, stepping toward the door. “Thank you,” he says, raising the cup.

“I hope you end up liking it!” You shout after him as he pushes the door open and rushes back into the rain.

Alone again, you settle down with your book, but the thought of that cute guy and his drink makes it hard to focus, until you give up and just grab the mop, cleaning the store before the post-work rush can begin.

****************************************

He doesn’t show up on Tuesday, but on Wednesday, at two forty-five, when you’re bored out of your mind, he shows up. The bells chime, alerting you to someone’s presence. Expecting Mrs. Keene to be early, you hop to your feet, but when you set your book down, you see it’s instead the cute guy from Monday. His hair’s still messy, but he’s grinning at you, and he seems a little less lost.

“Back so soon?” You tease, leaning against the counter as he makes his way to you.

“I told you, I need to get used to the taste of coffee.”

“I don’t blame you. Same thing?”

“Same thing, please.”

You smile. “Do you remember what it was called?”

He opens and closes his mouth twice, then, with a sheepish smile, shakes his head. “It was cinnamon.”

You laugh. “You’re halfway there. Cinnamon latte.”

“Cinnamon latte,” he says quietly to himself, and you have to hide your small smile. “I didn’t expect to be tested.”

“Well, you should’ve, because now you’ve failed.”

“How can you fail me if you don’t even know my name?”

You glance at him over your shoulder. His smile’s handsome, especially as he toys with a useless stack of business cards piled on the corner of the counter. “Touché.” A pause. “So?” You ask, returning to making his drink.

“Cedric,” he says. “Diggory. I would’ve introduced myself earlier, but you have the name tag and I didn’t even think…”

“That I couldn’t just read your mind?”

He bows his head, chin dipping against the warm orange of his sweater. “Sorry.”

You set his drink in front of him. “You apologize too much.”

He snorts. “I think this is the first time I’ve apologized.”

“And it’s unnecessary. Honestly, you’re one of the first people to introduce themselves to me.”

“They don’t introduce themselves?”

“Well, some of them do, but they’re in such a rush to get to work that it’s hard to place name to face. But Mrs. Keene certainly has.”

“Oh, I bet. She loves to talk.” He takes a sip of the latte. “Delicious.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” and he forces a smile after taking another sip.

“You’re one of the worst liars I’ve ever met.”

“You have no idea how happy it would make my dad to hear that.”

“He’s a stickler for rules?”

He hesitates. “No? Not really. He just…thinks a lot of me. Expects a lot of me.”

It’s your turn to hesitate now. You’ve only known Cedric a couple of days. What are you supposed to say about his family? That you’re sorry? That doesn’t seem right. Nor does pressing the issue and asking further about his family dynamics. He’s cute, but you’re not sure you want to hear about that just yet.

Thankfully, he spares you from any attempt at answering with a soft laugh. “Sorry, that’s a lot to tell you.”

“There you go apologizing again.”

“Sor—” he catches himself. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he shakes his head. “It’s a curse.”

“Apparently.”

You continue chatting, discussing your old hometown, your families, the way the weather has jumped from cold to hot in only a few days. When he finally takes his leave, citing a meeting with a friend, you’re surprised to see a full hour has passed, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the evening.

****************************************

You have the cinnamon latte ready when he walks in on Friday, sitting and steaming on the edge of the counter when the bells chime. He’s smiling already as he brushes his hair from his eyes. He has something under his arm, pressed against his yellow sweater.

“One cinnamon latte,” you say, returning his smile and nodding at the mug. “Ready to go.”

“I’m getting too predictable.”

“Makes my job easier.”

“Hmm.” He grabs the drink. “No pop quiz today?” He asks before taking a sip.

“Not today,” you say, humming as you start on a latte for yourself.

“That’s too bad. I’d actually studied.”

“Oh?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you pour some coffee into a small cup.

It’s a book tucked under his arm, and now he holds it up for you. “Yeah. Rented a book from the library and everything.”

You bark out a laugh when you see what he’s holding. Gourmet Coffee Drinks and How to Make Them. “You actually did study. Wow.”

His cheeks turn a light pink, but he’s smiling. “I wanted to pass.”

“Okay. So, I guess I can make a quiz special for you. Let’s start easy. What’s in a latte?”

“Espresso and steamed milk.” He rattles the answer off quickly. He saw this one coming.

“For most people, yes. You get coffee and steamed milk. How about a cappuccino?”

“Espresso and…milk foam.”

“Mmhmm.” You grab the cinnamon shaker. “Now…what about an americano?”

“That’s…”

“No cheating!” You say over your shoulder when you hear the flip of pages.

He flips the book closed. “It’s espresso and cold milk?” He asks, wincing, knowing already he’s wrong.

“Close.”

“Really?”

“Espresso and hot water. And not,” you say, setting your drink on the counter and raising an eyebrow, “anything for you.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Doesn’t sound like it. Thank the heavens for your expertise in cinnamon lattes.”

“It’s my job. Oh, and that’ll be two sixty-five again.”

He pulls out two bills and digs in his pocket, counting out exact change. What a thoughtful customer, not forcing you to do math today. “Don’t you ever get bored in here?” He asks.

You shrug, watching as he holds out a handful of coins. You hold out your hand, and he drops the coin in it, the tips of his fingers brushing your palm lightly as he does so. Your own cheeks warm in response, and you internally scold yourself. It was an accident. “Sometimes, but I can read while I’m here.”

“What are you reading?”

“Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” At his surprised look, you roll your eyes and lean against the counter, chin in hand. “I didn’t choose it, really. It was a gift that happened to be on the top of one of my moving boxes. I’ve been too lazy to unpack everything so far.”

“How is it?”

“It’s all right. I’ve read better; I’ve read worse.”

He laughs softly and leans forward, elbows catching the edge of the counter. “A stunning recommendation.”

“Hey, I didn’t recommend it. I just said I’m reading it. My recommendations, as you see,” you say, gesturing to his latte, “are always top notch.”

“Well,” he says, swirling the cup, “you were right about this.”

“I told you. I’m great at recommending things.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

A silence falls in the coffee shop, broken only by the soft acoustic music you have playing over the stereo. He’s leaning against the counter, elbows on the edge, grey eyes crinkling with his smile. The slightest hint of stubble lines his jaw, you notice. When you meet his gaze again, he seems more serious, the easy smile replaced by a searching look, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe, and you realize just how near you are, both leaning against the counter. The smell of his cinnamon latte wafts up to you, and you can’t swallow the knot in your throat. You’re close to him, you realize with a start, very close.

Clearing your throat, you shove away from the countertop, cheeks burning, heart suddenly pounding. Why? He’s just a guy. A cute guy. A cute, funny, charming guy, but just a guy. He leans away, too, clearing his throat and gathering up his coffee book, tucking it under one arm. You know, as he sets his coffee down so he can run a hand through his hair, that you actually just might be a goner for Cedric.

Great.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asks, gesturing to the small booth.

You shrug, turning your back to him to hide your own nervousness. “All yours.”

The booth creaks as he settles into it. Though you take a rag and cleaner to it everyday per store regulations, it’s rarely ever used. In your short time working here, nobody’s used it for anything but waiting for their coffee.

Soft music fills the small shop, and you quietly hum along as you set to cleaning the store again. There’s no need for it, but it keeps you busy, and keeps you from looking at Cedric. Occasionally, he flips a page, but you’re very aware of his gaze and how often it seems to stray to you.

Finally, having rewashed all of the dishes, counted the register’s cash twice, and checked the supplies in the back room, you have no other excuses, and you return to the stool behind the counter and pick up your book. You’re about to sit down, hesitate, then head back to the machines and whip up another cinnamon latte.

“Here,” you say, stepping around the counter and to the booth’s small table. “On the house.”

“For me?”

“I don’t see anyone else here,” you say, setting your own drink and book down. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“Please,” he says, half standing as you go to sit. Some old gesture of chivalry or something. His cheeks redden, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep your nervous laugh from escaping. He settles back into his side and picks up his book. A minute passes, the both of you sipping your drinks, reading, and pretending not to be sneaking glances at one another. He’s virtually a stranger, for heaven’s sake, but you can’t help yourself. He’s cute and charming, and it’s not like you know anyone else in this town. At the very least, you’ve found someone that could be your friend.

You take a deep breath, working up the nerve to finally say, “good book, then?”

“Hmm?” He looks over it at you, then nods. “Yeah. Very good. Riveting stuff.”

“Must be,” you say, fighting a laugh, “if you haven’t even noticed you’ve got it upside down.”

He opens his mouth, then looks to his book. Cheeks red, he laughs at himself. “I do, don’t I? Merlin’s beard.”

“What?”

He shakes his head in exasperation. “I’m sorry. And no,” he says, holding up a finger when you try to interrupt him, “I’m not unnecessarily apologizing. You deserve it this time.”

You set your own book down and lean back in the booth. “Do I?”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to read, but I keep getting distracted and I just—I think I need to ask you on a date. I’m sorry if this is too forward, or if you’re uncomfortable. I know we haven’t known each other long, and I keep coming to your work, and maybe that’s weird, but you seem nice, and you’re funny, and I really enjoy talking to you. But if you’re uncomf—”

“I’m free at five,” you say, biting your lip in a failing attempt not to laugh at his rambling worry. As if you aren’t interested in him as well. “And I could still use a tour of the town.”

He takes a deep breath, then releases it in a half-sigh, half-laugh of sorts. “You’re not creeped out?”

“Me? No. Why would I be?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing. Just, my friend, Fred, he said I’d be making your nervous, coming in here every day. And getting the book. He and his brother actually have money on whether you’d kick me out or not.”

You shrug. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I need a tour guide, and I don’t really want to hear about every single memory Mrs. Keene has of this place.”

“No, I can’t imagine you do. So, it’s a date, then?”

“Sounds like it.” You smile at him, and just then, the bell rings, and Mrs. Keene and her husband enter. Three o’clock, then. “I should…” you say, gesturing to them, and Cedric nods. His cheeks are a bright red, but he can’t stop smiling.

“Yeah. I’ll be here. Reading, hopefully.”

“Book right-side-up?”

He grins and flips it around. “This time, yes.”

As you round the counter, Mrs. Keene is already talking, rattling off the order you know by heart, and you find you don’t really hear anything she’s saying, heart thudding, glancing at Cedric as often as he glances at you. Five o’clock can’t come soon enough.

[waywardnerd67]

Be Mine

Title: Be Mine Summary: All of (Y/N)’s friends were getting married while she was traveling the country killing monsters. As all the invitations flood her P.O. Box, she decides to ask her hunting partner for a huge favor. Paring: Dean x Reader Word Count: 2607 Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluff/Slight Angst Square Filled: Fake Dating Bingo Card: @spndeanbingo​ A/N: None

Check Out: SPN Dean Bingo Masterlist

You are cordially invited to…

Lauren and Michael, Renee and Michelle, Allie and Caleb, Theo and James

“Fuck. My. Life.” (Y/N) whispered opened the fourth wedding invitation for the year.

She was at the point in her life that all of her friends were settling down with significant others while she was fighting the things nightmares were made of. Taking out the R.S.V.P. card, she stared down at the million dollar question she had been thinking about for weeks.

____ Yes I will be attending with a guest. Guest’s Name: ____________________

She could not remember the last date she had been on since most of the men she met she left sleeping in their beds in the morning. The life of a hunter was not one where you could have real attachments to anyone. Which is why being partners with the Winchesters worked perfectly for her. They had the same beliefs about hunting, except for Sam who had found a hunter to fall in love with. Most times, (Y/N) was happy with how her life was but right now is when she missed having someone to be with.

“Hey, you ready?” Dean called into the Mailbox Store.

(Y/N) gathered the rest of her mail sighing, “Yeah.”

They were driving back to the Bunker after another dead end of finding Chuck. They had dropped Sam off halfway on their trip home for him to meet up with Eileen. (Y/N) sat in the passenger seat, re-reading the latest invitation.

She heard Dean chuckle, “Another invite? Jeez, how many is that now?”

“Four. Four weddings to go to all within a month of one another. That is four different dresses. Four lousy dinners. Four different tables in which I know nobody and can’t talk about what I really do for a living.”

“Four open bars.” Dean smiled, finding the only positive in the whole thing.

“True and hopefully four chances to find a hot guy to get laid.” She smirked, glancing over to see Dean’s hands grip the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

She shrugged it off deciding to go through the rest of her mail. Once they were back in the Bunker, Dean walked off towards his Dean Cave while (Y/N) decided to do some much needed laundry. Sitting in the library, she pulled her phone sending a text to her friend.

“Got your invite! Can’t wait to celebrate with you!”

The response was immediate as her phone rang, “Girl, it will be the party of the year! Please tell me you’re bringing a date.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “I thought weddings were the place to get drunk and find your true love?” Her phone started to ring.

“(Y/N), you haven’t RSVP with a date to any of the weddings. You. Need. A. Date.”

“Theo, you know me and dating have been on the outs for a long time. I’m a love ‘em and leave ‘em before they wake up kind of girl.”

He laughed, “Where that has its benefits, aren’t you lonely? Traveling around all by yourself and no one to come home too.”

“I love my life babe and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Now, tell me all about the suit you chose because I know it has to be to die for.”

She knew exactly how to get Theo off topic and spent the next thirty minutes listening about all his wedding plans. As she was changing out her laundry, she found one of Dean’s flannels in her bag. It was by far her favorite one he wore with the red and black buffalo pattern. Bringing it up to her nose, it smelled just like the leather of the Impala and fading scent of Dean’s natural musk. The mixture made her head spin slightly as she walked off with it to her room.

(Y/N) had been with the Winchester for nearly five years after a werewolf had killed her husband and she was on a revenge path. They had helped her kill off the pact of female werewolves killing men in her hometown. After learning about monsters being real, she knew that hunting them was where she was meant to be. Sam had been more accepting than Dean at first, but once she saved him from being a Djinn’s juice box. She proved how serious she was about being a hunter.

Of course, she was not immune to the Winchester charm and feelings for the elder brother developed quickly. (Y/N) pushed all feelings deep down and only when she drank alone did they sprout up momentarily. She was surprised that she found her mind wandering to thoughts of what Dean would be like at weddings. She imagined him in one one of his nice FBI suits charming all the bridesmaids and drinking whiskey all night long. The thought of him being her plus one made her stomach buzz and heart race. Quickly, she pushed those thoughts aside reminding herself that he did not have attachments and nor did she.

Over the next three months, (Y/N) attended three out of the four weddings. She came walking in fairly early from wedding reception number three. Dean and Sam were sitting at the map table with a few lore books opened.

Dean let out a cat call, “Hey sexy, you’re home early.”

“Yeah, just didn’t feel like staying plus the bar was only free until a certain time and no single men to take advantage of.” (Y/N) hopped up on the table crossing her legs in between the two men.

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Dean’s piercing forest eyes traveled the length of her body and then sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. An all too familiar ache hit her hard as he averted his eyes from her.

Sam cleared his throat as he stood up, “I think I’m going to get a few more books. You do look beautiful, (Y/N).” he leaned down kissing her cheek.

“Thanks Sam.”

She hopped down kicking off her shoes, “Well I’m going to wash off all the girly crap and relax in my room.”

“O-Okay, if you… uh feel like watching a movie later I’ll be in the Dean Cave.” He stammered watching her every move.

She nodded walking off to her room. After a shower and putting on comfy clothes, she decided that a movie with Dean would be nice. She did not want to be alone after watching all the happy couples at the wedding. Sure enough, Dean was in one of the recliners watching her favorite horror movie. One thing she loved about Dean was no words were needed with him. There was never an uncomfortable silence between them.

Even though it was her favorite movie, her eyes kept going over to him. His long body stretched out covered in gray sweatpants and a black hoodie. She found her body urging her to go over and snuggle with him. Her heart beat encouraging the same thing to go be with him. Her mind screaming to stay far away and protect herself from heartache.

Then her mouth opened asking a question burning on the tip of her tongue, “Hey Dean, do you think next weekend you would come with me to my friend’s wedding?”

He looked stunned for a moment then smiled, “Absolutely.”

Her heart leaped and she hid her face with her hair as it burned hot with happiness. The wide smile he had on his face was mirrored by her own spreading across hers. Over the next week, she tried to distract herself from the upcoming evening she would be spending with Dean. Saturday, she had hardly seen him at all as she spent most of the day getting herself ready. She tried hard to push away any expectations or hopes as to what could happen, but something felt incredibly right about going with Dean.

Slipping on her one shoulder white dress and the last touches of make-up, she walked out to the library. A small gasp escaped her lips as she walked in to see Dean standing by the stairs talking with Sam and Eileen. His lean body was dressed in a fitted black tux. The jacket fitted snug over his broad shoulders and biceps. His hair was over to one side and as he turned his bright olive eyes connected with hers.

There was a tense moment of silence before Sam elbowed him, “You look gorgeous (Y/N). Right Dean?”

He nodded as his eyes trailed down her body, “You’re beautiful.”

The words were barely above a whisper floating into her ears making them burn, “Thank you.”

She continued her path towards Dean as Sam stepped away saying goodbye. He swallowed hard, gently brushing a rogue strand of hair came loose.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s go get drunk and dance the night away.”

The wedding was beautiful as Theo and his husband recited their vows and sealed the ceremony with a kiss. The reception kicked off as waiters came around handing out champagne. She watched in amazement as Dean charmed and dazzled every person he spoke to. Theo caught up to her at the bar as she was watching him talk to a group of Theo’s co-workers.

“Girl, where have you been hiding Mr. Hottie? Good god!”

She started laughing, “I didn’t want you stealing him away from me.”

He rolled his eyes at her, “As if I could, he hasn’t taken those dreamy emeralds off of you all night. Now, tell me the truth… how is he in the sack?”

She averted her eyes to the floor as her silence answered his question.

“Hold on, back it up a moment,” He placed both hands on her shoulders as she took a sip of her whiskey, “You’re telling me that you have not fallen to your knees and climbed that man like the mighty, thick, hard tree he is?”

(Y/N) nearly spatted her drink out, “Theo! No, believe it or not I have some self-control and I really don’t know what this is. We work together and I don’t want it to get weird if this dating thing doesn’t work. He may not be into me that way.”

His eyes looked over to Dean and she followed his gaze finding his piercing eyes staring right at them, “Oh honey you blind as a bat. That man wants to ravage your body and tonight is as good a night as any for him to take you to church”

“You’re terrible. Get your damn drink and find your husband. Leave my love life alone.” She rolled her eyes as he held his hand up to the bartender.

“Baby, someone has to invest in your love life since you won’t,” He grabbed his drink then kissed her cheek, “You look gorgeous and I love you. Now, go over there, drag tall and handsome into a closet and suck him up like a vacuum.”

Theo walked away as her jaw hit the floor. Dean walked over with his eyebrow perfectly arched in curiosity, “Everything okay?”

“Y-Yeah… yeah, just my dear friend…” she downed her drink, “spitting truth at me as usual.”

He chuckled then held out his hand to her, “Care to dance?”

The slow, sensual love song began to fill the room as Dean led her onto the dance floor. Slipping his hand over her hip pulling her against him and clutching her other hand within his. His cheek rested against her temple as they began to sway back on and forth. For the first time since losing her husband, she found herself completely relaxed. His body was firm and strong caging her in with a sense of security. The few days stubble tickling her skin as he lowered his head slightly. Then his beautiful, husky voice flowed into her ears.

Darling, so it goes Some things are meant to be Take my hand Take my whole life too For I can't help falling in love with you

The lyrics were like an arrow piercing her heart. He looked down at her searching her wide eyes before they drifted to her lips. His tongue darted out over his lips as they slowly descended towards hers. Suddenly, the song switched to heavy bass and quick pace as bodies began dancing around them.

“I have to go.”

She stepped out of his arms threading through groups of people until she found the doors leading outside. The cool night air hit her burning face as she ran out into it. Her chest heaving as she desperately tried to catch her breath. Small gasps of hot air turning into puffs of mists as her chest ached from gulps of air filling her lungs.

“(Y/N)?”

She flinched hearing Dean behind her, “I-I’m fine. I just needed some fresh air.”

A blanket of warmth covered her shoulders as he placed his jacket over them, “What did I do wrong?”

She turned around hearing the defeat in his voice. His eyes downcast and shoulders slumped forward with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked like a child who was just scolded for breaking something.

“Dean, you did nothing wrong. You’ve been perfect this whole night. Everyone, including Theo, thinks we’re this happy couple madly in love,” she paused as he looked up smirking, “but we’re not. We’re partners who hunt monsters together and kind of friends.”

Dean took a few steps closer to her, “Kind of friends? Other than Sam and Cas, you’re the only other person I trust completely in this world. Said that is a bit more than kind of friends.”

Rather it was the whiskey and champagne flowing through her or pure desperation she found the feelings she had long buried bursting from her lips.

“That’s all we’ll ever be. Just friends. Just partners. Forever stuck watching you sleep with woman after woman and me being sickeningly jealous of them for catching your eye. I know you don’t see me that way and I get it if it’s weird knowing that I have feelings for you. Feelings that I have bottled up and buried deep that I’m just word vomiting all over you. Oh god…”

(Y/N) turned away from him as tears slipped down her cheeks. Her heart splitting in two as the truth slipped out into the world for all to know. Hanging her head in shame from even allowing the hope from this evening to breach her defensive wall. Agony and guilt and shame weighing her shoulders down and making it hard to breath once again.

His large hands gently grasped her shoulders, turning her around slowly. His hands gliding up to her face just as his lips firmly pressed against hers. They were warm and surprisingly soft and all too tempting to keep falling down the rabbit hole he was creating.

Pulling away, “Dean…”

“Shut up and be mine.”

“W-What?” She stammered not believing what she was hearing, “What did you just say?���

Dean flashed his famous charming smile that she had seen many women and men fall for right at her. Her heart pounding against her chest and knees trembling.

“I said, shut up and be mine. Haven’t you noticed that I haven’t been with anyone in almost a year. Ever since that damn haunting in Iowa City when you almost died. The thought of losing you tore me apart. If Cas hadn’t been there to save you then I don’t know…”

She pulled his lips to hers silencing him before whispering against them, “Shut up and be mine.”

“I’m all yours beautiful, I’m all yours.”

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[hadtochangemyurlquick]

can u write more leachel please

no but i can fuck ur bitch

Leah’s first public reading was not packed. Of course, the seven of them all filed into front row seats and of course her parents, grandparents, Ian, and most of her teachers were scattered throughout the audience. Even Emily, her friend from middle school who she hadn’t really talked to since she went to private school, showed up. It was a sweet gesture but beyond the people who knew Leah personally, only around fifty or so were actual fans. It was fine and Leah did an amazing talk and afterwards Rachel slapped her hand against her thigh, wishing she could actually clap.

Leah’s tenth public reading was standing room only.

The National book festival was held once a year in DC and while there were two panels Leah was put on, they also asked her to do her own talk because she had a new book coming out. It’d been called by the New York Times book review “the most anticipated book of the year!” And Rachel had only been allowed to read the first draft of the first chapter, which was slightly killing her. But her girlfriend had a process, even if that process was to solely talk to Nora about it. Nora and sometimes Toni.

When Leah walked onto the slightly raised platform the entire room erupted into applause. It was a standing ovation and Leah looked beautiful and also incredibly embarrassed. Her eyes found Rachel’s immediately and they were so fucking intense, Rachel just wanted her to keep looking at her forever. Forever and a half.

“Wow,” Leah began when she reached her microphone. “I haven’t even said anything yet.” There was laughter, more cheers, gradually people sat down. “Thank you all for coming, I know there’s some pretty amazing panels going on right now. There’s still time to go to Roxanne Gay’s talk, it’s a few rooms down.”

More laughter, more cheers, a “We love you Leah Rilke!”

Rachel shook her head, smiling. Leah could pretend all she wanted, but Rachel saw what was happening. The entire world was slowly coming to life under her touch. The English language was being shaped to fit Leah Rilke.

Every think piece, ever op-ed, every review, mentioned the words Leah Rilke somewhere in there. Every teenage girl was talking about her like they’d talk about the Bible. TV studios and movie execs sat in rooms and discussed about how they could capture her writing style. Publishing houses wanted to find their very own Leah Rilke. Tattoo artists were adding to their pre drawn collections symbols from her books.

It was happening slowly, a little at a time, but time happened all at once. And history textbooks were being printed in Texas for the year 2032 that had an entire chapter about Leah Rilke.

The world was changing, and for the next half-century it’d be one where Leah Rilke was alive. And after, it’d be one where everyone was looking for the next Leah Rilke, however futile.

Leah didn’t see it, but Rachel could. And Nora. They talked about it sometimes, when a Dolly Parton song came on or Tolkien happened to come up in conversation.

“I’m not really afraid of public speaking,” Leah continued. “But can you all look somewhere else for a minute? I just need a break, I feel like you all are staring.”

There was more laughter and Rachel felt her phone buzz. Her eyebrow furrowed and she ignored it, instead focusing on the woman wearing her engagement ring.

It’d taken her a minute to propose, insecurities thriving with Leah off giving talks or going to conventions like this one. In a big empty house it wasn’t hard to feel less than, especially with one hand.

It’d been Dot who talked sense into her. Dot surprisingly sensible when she herself had eloped with Fatin, annulled it, and eloped again.

“Okay,” Dot said. “Maybe she’s too good for you. So what? She doesn’t know that.”

“Exactly,” Rachel said. “That’s my fucking point. She’s gonna find someone better and realize that I’m just… me.”

“Yeah,” Dot nodded.

Rachel glared at her. “You aren’t making me feel better.”

“I’m not Fatin, or Shelby, or Martha.”

“I know that,” Rachel said.

“It sounds like you wanna marry her,” Dot said. “So fuckin’ marry her. Then she won’t be able to fuck off with someone else.”

“But I want her to be happy,” Rachel said.

“So fuckin’ make her happy,” Dot said. “I don’t get what the fuckin’ problem is.”

So she proposed. Leah said yes immediately, not even a moment of hesitation, and they were planning a small wedding with a rabbi they both knew and a Huppa but not a Ketubah. Some sort of halfway for the both of them.

Rachel’s phone buzzed again and she turned it off, slipping it in her backpack to focus on Leah.

“This is probably the hardest book I’ve ever written. Not because its deeply personal or anything, just because I had to do so much research for it,” Leah said. “I even had to dedicate it to my sister in law because she spent hours with me looking at flight patterns and chess strategies. Do you guys know how many different kind of tulips there are? I can’t say I don’t understand the dutch a little better now.”

Nora squeezed her wrist and she looked over at her. Shelby caught her eye from beside Nora and passed her a phone, the notes app open.

Jeffs here.

Rachel frowned. Jeff Greene? The book review guy? Or maybe Jeffery Wilson, the Sony guy. Didn’t they have a neighbor named Jeff who liked to complain about their noise level to the police?

“Jeff?” She mouthed back.

Shelby was stone faced when she nodded and something sunk in Rachel’s gut.

Fuck. Jeff.

Leah was still talking but Rachel couldn’t hear her.

Where?

Shelby took the phone back.

The back.

Rachel clenched her jaw and Nora squeezed her wrist again, eyes wide.

Has Leah seen him?

Shelby shook her head and Rachel let out a breath of relief.

She got to her feet, and cast a quick smile back at Leah who’s brow furrowed at her. She kept talking though, stumbling a little on her speech. Behind her, Fatin, Martha, and Shelby followed.

Jeff wasn’t hard to spot. He was the washed-up has been, with the fraying hair and dark circles under his eyes.

“You need to leave,” Rachel spat.

“I’m just here to apologize,” Jeff said. “I don’t even—”

“You’re leaving,” Shelby cut off. “Now. Or I’ll call security.”

“Take this outside,” Someone hissed and Fatin dragged him out, shoving him roughly through the open door. Several more people waiting outside slipped inside, entirely grateful.

“Listen, I know I fucked up, I want to apologize,” Jeff said.

“She was a child,” Fatin said. “You’re a fucking predator.”

Jeff paled.

“Wait,” Martha said. “Are you here to apologize for dumping her, or for raping her?”

“I didn’t—”

Maybe it was Shelby that threw the first punch, or maybe Rachel. Maybe they both came at him at once. But Martha didn’t hold Rachel back like she normally would’ve, and Fatin snapped at some people to put their phones away.

Leah said it was ironic later, that Fatin was telling people to put their phones away, while Martha urged on a fight.

But it wasn’t a fight, it was a beat down.

Shelby had taken Toni to enough kickboxing lessons over the years to know how to throw a punch, and Rachel had been picturing this moment with Jeff for too long.

No one intervened once Martha pushed a couple people away explaining he was a pedophile who prayed on teenage girls. One person said, “Isn’t that Jeff Galanis?”

And Martha said: “Yes.”

Jeff Galanis hasn’t published a book in five years at that point, he wouldn’t publish one again. Leah wasn’t happy Rachel broke her only hand, and Toni started going to kickboxing lessons alone.

“It was stupid,” Leah told her, when she met her outside after they’d all been thrown out. “I don’t give a shit about him anymore. I just wanted you there.”

“I know,” Rachel said. “But it wasn’t stupid to me. I wanted you to know you wouldn’t have to see him again.”

“Rach,” Leah sighed. “You remember how when we were driving here a Smith’s song came on?” Rachel nodded. “I realized then I literally couldn’t remember his last name.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Leah said. “We’re getting married in a few months, my new book is coming out, your starting your new job. We’ll probably be aunts as soon as Toni and Shelby finish those foster parent classes. Jeff is like—probably the least important person in the universe right now.”

“Sorry I missed the talk,” Rachel said.

Leah kissed her, soft and easy like they’d never once been.

“It’s okay,” she promised. “There’ll be others.”

There were.

[theuniversitychallengereview]

UC 51.31 - Edinburgh vs Emmanuel

I was planning on writing this yesterday, but failed abjectly. I’m training for a marathon (yes, any excuse to get a mention of this out there), and have to do long runs on Sundays, in this case 29k. I got up nice and early with the idea being to have the entire afternoon and evening with which to delve deep into Edinburgh vs Emmanuel. But when I got home (following an emergency Subway on the way back) I collapsed on the sofa and legitimately could not get back up for the next six hours, at which point I went straight to bed. So instead I am doing this a full week after the episode aired, which always makes me feel like an especially big slacker (if I do it on the Sunday then its almost like it could have been planned, but doing it on the Monday before the next episode goes out? Huge homework in the car to school vibes)

In other news, I got a standing desk the other week, but I haven’t had the chance to properly test it out for actual work since then, so this will have an added portion of excitement (for me, only, obviously. For you lot there will be no discernible difference, aside from a vague sense of it having been written from a higher vantage point, perhaps).

Anyway, after Imperial’s stunning victory last week, Edinburgh and Emmanuel now had the chance to join them in the semi-finals. In the last blog I espoused a pseudo-complicated formula for predicting who would win between Reading and Imperial. Even without using it you can clearly see Edinburgh are the outstanding favourites for this match, with their winning scores being far higher than those of their Cambridge rivals. Although, as we saw last time out, my formula is far from infallible… 

Edinburgh captain Sundar kicks things off with ‘bow and arrow’, and they manage two bonuses on early 20th century novels (including one on ‘A Passage To India’, to which I am listening at the moment, and which made me double take when I heard Paxman say it. Sometimes I wonder how well I would recall information from the books I read, were I to hear a quiz question about them at some point in the future, so it's odd to experience it when it's still so fresh in my mind. Would I have been able to beat Jones to the punch on this answer had it come a few months down the line? A few years?).

Jones apologies to his teammates for negging the next starter, before Thatte buzzes in to pick up the pieces for Emmanuel. They only take a solitary bonus on poisonous plants, but this is good enough to tie the game, thanks to Jones’ incorrect interruption. Edinburgh hit back through Thomas, who corrects a spoonerism halfway through his answer of Alfred Russell Wallace. The Welshman Jones then makes up for his error with an early buzz on a starter about Wales, and Edinburgh extended their lead to forty five points going into the first picture round. 

The picture starter is on the French definition of an English word, loaned into the French language against the desires of the French academy. Sundar guesses baguette, and then Wrathall, brilliantly (especially given comments I made last week about contestants pronouncing French words in French accents) pronounces ‘sandwich’ in perfect French, much to the amusement of Paxo. 

Karunaratne buzzes in very early on the next starter, but has to abort his answer, because Paxman has already said ‘Richard Feynman’ by the time his buzzer had sounded. Its an unfortunate buzz, and would have been a brilliant answer otherwise, but Thatte is there once again to clean things up for Emmanuel. The Cambridge side suffer some poor fortune of their own on the next question, with captain Malcolm giving Mary Queen of Scots rather than Mary Stuart - she had guessed MQoS based on a clue about Elizabeth I, and in most cases that would probably have been acceptable, but at the very beginning of the question Paxman had mentioned that he was after the title of a play.

Neither side gets the music starter, giving Malcolm the opportunity to grab the ten points which had eluded her moments ago with the backup, on an Irish county. Pulinger knows that Mendelssohn had written some tunes about the moon - the theme of the bonuses - but unfortunately none of the bonus tunes are by Mendelssohn. 

Emmanuel took the next two starters as well to open up a sixty point lead, before Sundar gets his first starter since the opener to get the Scots back on track. Jones then takes the second picture starter in an incredibly perfunctory fashion, giving ‘Joseph Wright of Derby’ as if annoyed at how long the name was taking to recite. Thomas is first to recognise ‘poultice’, and a couple of bonuses on matrices bring them within five points. Another for Thomas, the only Scot on the Edinburgh team, gives them the lead, and he pumps his fists enthusiastically. Come on!! A hat-trick on flags made it a twenty point gap.

However, it wasn’t over yet. A neg from Jones, who sunk his head to the desk in despair, handed Emmanuel the initiative, and the opportunity to steal the lead back. Thatte, for what seems like the umpeenth time, capitalises on Edinburgh’s mistake, and a pair of bonuses snuck them in front with seconds remaining. 

No one seems to know the final starter on ‘interlingua’, and it looks like it is going to be dropped, but then… redemption! Jones, whose blunder on the previous question had handed Emmanuel a five point cushion, buzzes in with Peano (who was apparently a glottologist as well as a linguist) to beat the gong and claim the semi final berth. 

Rewatching this question with the knowledge Jones is going to buzz in is brilliant, because right up until the point he buzzes in it looks as though he has no idea, frowning and shrugging his shoulders, and even after he gives his answer he’s not convinced by it until Paxman tells him he’s right, at which point he claps his hands delightedly. 

When the gong sounds seconds later, the editors cut to a wide shot of the Edinburgh team, which I think was a great move, because you get to see just how far Jones swings back at the knowledge they’ve won.

Final Score: Emmanuel, Cam 145 - 150 Edinburgh

What a fab match that was - not quite a tiebreaker but by golly it was close. We’ve had a lot of those this series, with ten matches ending with fifteen or fewer points separating the teams (I had to recount that because I couldn’t believe there were so many, and indeed I was wrong, having originally counted to eleven, but ten is staggering too). 

I’ll see you some time this week for my review of tonight’s episode, which features St John’s and Trinity, both of Cambridge, as they seek to avoid elimination. 

[zelinkwrites]

A Mother’s Love

post calamity aoc timeline. started writing this, accidentally deleted it you get the gist here we go 

Rita sat underneath the apple tree in her backyard, watching her daughter Aryll play with the stick she found. 

“Mom! Mom! MOM! Look! Watch this!” yelled Aryll as she threw the stick in the air and caught it after it flipped once. “Mom, did you see that!”

“Yes, sweetheart that was very cool! I’m very proud of you.”

The little girl smiled at her mother’s praise and ran with her stick into the front yard. 

“Aryll, do not fall into that pond! I don’t want you to catch a cold!” Rita, understanding her rest time was over, stood up and began making her way around to the front yard to make sure her energetic young daughter didn’t get herself into some trouble. For just a second she wished just one of her children had been born with a quiet and serene personality. Oh, but she wouldn’t change either of them for the world. 

Speaking of her other child, Link had written home not long ago saying he intended to visit within the month. It had been so long since she had seen her son, what with his having been busy at the castle. She thought about her son, about the muddy, rowdy little boy she raised and how he had grown into such a handsome, mature young man. Oh she was so very, very proud of him. She’ll never forget the look on his face when he came home from a trip with his dad with a new sword strapped to his back, one almost at tall as him. The same sword that would grow to become such a burden to him. Rita had pledged one thing then: be as big a comfort and confidante for her son as he needed. Such is a mother’s love. Anything Link thought, he could tell her, unashamedly. Such is a mother’s love. Whenever he needed someone to hold him as he cried, she would be there. Such is a mother’ s love. Whenever he got hurt and needed someone to clean his wound and comfort him, she would be there, bandage in hand. Such is a mother’s love. As she rounded the corner of their home, she looked out at Hyrule, thanking the Goddesses for protecting her son while he protected the kingdom. 

Aryll ran up to her mom, panting from the rigorous lap around the house she just made. “Mom. Mom, when is Link gonna be here? I want to show him my stick trick.”

“I’m not exactly sure, love. Any day now, you know Link has always been timely.” She smiled at her daughter’s impatience and patted her unruly dirty blonde hair down into a more manageable shape. “But don’t worry, he’ll be here soon enough and I’m sure he’ll be sooooo impressed with your talents.”

She watched as her daughter smiled ear to ear, and noticed, as if her words summoned him, blue fibers of light gathering in front of the shrine across the bridge from their house. Aryll followed her mother’s line of sight and yelled as she saw her big brother materializing at the shrine. She sped across the bridge, as fast as her little legs would carry her, and got halfway across the bridge before her brother was there, jogging to meet her, picking her up, upside down, much to his sister’s delight, as evidenced by her maniacal giggling. He continued across the bridge but only after turning behind him to see if his surprise guest was following him. He walked up to his mom, still holding Aryll by her ankles. 

“Put her down before you drop her on her head.” Rita admonished before hugging her son and kissing his cheek. “Have you gotten taller since you were here last? I think you have...”

Link cleared his throat before stepping out of the way and letting his mother see who he had brought with him. Behind him was a gorgeous young lady with long golden hair, wearing a blue blouse with black trousers. Her hands were crossed in front of her and she looked very nervous, almost as if she felt she didn’t belong here. 

“Well, who is this?” asked Rita, although the answer was glaringly obvious. 

“This is Zelda, even though you probably already knew that. She said she had never been to Hateno and asked if I could... take her.”

“Well, hello Princess, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” Rita said, slightly bowing, mostly for show. 

“Oh! Please just Zelda is fine, really! It’s fantastic to finally see this village. Link has told me much about it, and you too.”

“Oh is that so? Well come on in, I’d love to hear what else my son has told you.”

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

The visiting pair settled in, Link making a show of giving Zelda his bed and volunteering to sleep in a completely separate room (aw, showing propriety in front of his parents, how knightly). 

Rita knew her son well, though, being one of the only people in Hyrule who could read him like a book. She knew he was hiding something. And she was confident in her ability in getting to the bottom of it. She noticed it first in the way he really had to work to separate himself from the princess. He made sure he was always about five feet away from her. Next, she noticed the blush that stained the princess’ cheeks whenever their hands brushed over dinner, passing a plate. Third, she noticed Link’s stare lingering on Zelda for just a moment longer than was really necessary. The thing that cemented her theory, however, was the beautiful necklace that slipped out of the princess’ collar one day when she was helping her in the garden. It looked strikingly similar to the one Rita’s mother had given Link before she passed away many years ago. Interesting.

She decided to corner Link one day and force the answer out of him. After all, such is a mother’s love. She saw the golden opportunity when Zelda was outside watching Aryll’s “stick tricks” as she called them. She slipped in front of her son right before he opened the door to walk outside. “Soooo...”

Link’s eyes got wide and he immediately started turning red, just like he did when he got caught doing something he shouldn’t have been as a child. 

“The princess seems really nice.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah she is.”

“And she’s so gorgeous, also. Those ballads really weren’t lying!” 

“Ahaha, yeah I guess so...” Link said, ruffling the hair on the back of his head.

“That’s good for you!”

“Yea- er what?” Link said, reddening even more. 

“Well that means you won’t have to guard her through that courting stage for too long. That happened to your father you know. He still talks about having to guard the late queen when she was courting the king. Having to stand there while they make heart eyes at each other, obsess over each other’s looks, try to impress the other, oh your father hated it!” 

Link’s face got somehow even more red as he heard his mother talk about the princess courting someone. Rita definitely did not miss that look he got. “Oh, uh yeah. That-that’s... good.” Link was looking everywhere except for his mother’s eyes. 

“However that beautiful necklace she’s got on means maybe she already has a suitor. Wouldn’t that be something?” 

He’d been found out. He told Zelda it was a bad idea to wear the necklace. He told her he wouldn’t be offended if she left it at the castle. But no, she just had to wear it. He can’t stay mad at her though. Link stayed silent, still not looking at his mother as the blush creeped into the tips of his ears. 

“How long has it been going on?” asked Rita, smiling slyly. 

Link sighed and said under his breath, “About four months.”

“Oh my goodness! My little boy has a girlfriend!” 

“Mom...” said Link, who was madly scrambling to put away the smile that was on his face. Rita grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him over to their couch. 

“Ok tell me everything.” And he did. Starting with his appointment, to the assassination attempt, to the end of the calamity, ending with current day, Rita shrieking whenever he recounted something particularly cute. 

“Oh I’m so proud of you!” Rita grabbed her son and embraced him so hard he had to tap out to breathe. Then she got an impish little smile on her face and leaned in and whispered, “Have you kissed her yet?”

“Mom!” he exclaimed, the blush coming back to his face. She jabbed him in the belly and after they both calmed down Link quietly, almost too quiet to hear said, “yeah”. 

“Link!” Rita playfully admonished her son, shoving his shoulder, pushing him onto the couch a little bit. She wasn’t strong enough to really push him over so she knew he did it for show. “Well, just know I like her a lot. Really.” she leaned and kissed her son on the cheek again. 

“Me too.” Link said, a fond smile on his face. “We’ve been through a lot together. She’s had a lot of issues with her dad and, you know, with her mom dying when she was younger. I’m just glad she feels... comfortable here.”

Rita smiled and traced little circles on her son’s back as they sat in comfortable silence. 

“Well, I should probably go out there before Aryll makes her fight her with a stick or something.”

Rita laughed and watched her son walk out and greet Zelda with a kiss on the cheek. Right then she made another vow: to extend that same amount of comfort to Zelda, as well. Such is a mother’s love.

extra content !!!

Aryll gaped when she saw her brother kiss the princess. It prompted a lot of questions in her mind.  “Are you guys dating? Link do you like the princess? Does she like you? Will I be a princess if you guys get married? Will you be king? Does mom know? Oh my goodness does dad know? He’s gonna kill you Link. I won’t tell him don’t worry. Are you guys gonna get married? Can I be the flowergirl? Can we live in the castle?”

Link and Zelda both stood there, in awe of the stream of questions being produced from such a little brain. Link looked at Zelda apologetically, but also in a “I told you so” type of way. Zelda giggled and cut off Aryll’s questions. “Aryll, how about you show Link that trick you showed me earlier!”

“Oh yeah, Link, you’re gonna love this!” She got in her position to throw the stick and Link looked at Zelda nodding his thank you.