#The Last Bookshop in London

[inlovewithquotes]

Books are what have brought us together. A love of stories within, the adventures they take us on, their glorious distraction in a time of strife.

-The Last Bookshop In London

[pipperoni32-blog]

The Last Bookshop in London

by Madeline Martin / 4 stars

When Grace is kicked out of her uncle's home, her best friend Viv makes the journey to London with her. There they find a friend of Grace's mother, who lets them stay with her. The girls dream of the big city, of working at Harrod's together and jazz and dance clubs at night. Viv wrote her own letter of recommendation on the train, but Grace didn't want to start her employment on a lie. Her uncle refused to write her one, despite running his shop for years. After interviewing, Harrod's tells her they can't hire her without a letter of recommendation after at least six months of employment. Mrs. Weatherford, their landlord, has an answer. Grace can work at Primrose books; Mr. Evans would be sure to have her.

Mr. Evans isn't thrilled about hiring an assistant, but Mrs. Weatherford is a force to be reckoned with. Grace knows nothing about books, but she does have ideas about how to make the shop more customer friendly, as well as implementing displays to help bring in people from off the street. There Grace meets George, who helps her find books for a customer, and recommends The Count of Monte Cristo for Grace's first foray into reading.

Swept away by her first book, Grace turns into a voracious reader. Around them, the war starts, and Grace is left behind as Viv and George leave to join in on the war efforts. Grace volunteers to be an ARP warden, roaming the streets at night to make sure people are following the black out regulations, and as bombs start falling, assisting in the aftermath of rescuing people and putting fires out.

Despite the turmoil around them, the bookshop stays open. Grace starts daily readings, first in the air raid shelters they're forced to spend nights in, and later at the shop itself. The power of books in times of uncertainty, giving people hope and something to look forward to.

I had this audiobook on mostly as background while I was doing other tasks, and while the narration was calming, that didn't stop me from getting lost in the story. Historical fiction can be hit or miss with me, but I really enjoyed the story of this little bookshop, surviving through a war and bringing a community together.

[airplanes924]

Books I've Read in 2024

Number 35

The Last Bookshop in London by Madeline Martin

[blogthefiresidechats]

Best 10 Books in.....Fiction

I’ve comprised a list of the 10 best books from the fiction genre (these books are works of fiction but they may not be classified as part of the other genre’s I’ve done so far). This list is in no particular order and this list is only my opinions based on what books I’ve read in the past. Enjoy! A historical fiction from WWII follows Grace as she goes to work at a book store in order to gain…

[muggleriddle]

Every time my sister goes to the UK, I ask her to bring me a book and that’s how my collection of Mary Renault’s novels is coming together

[youryurigoddess]

So one thing led to another, and I’ve just paid a visit to the first (that we know of) confirmed Good Omens S3 filming locations. Due to the obvious sensitivity of this material, please tag it accordingly and share only with the fans consenting to know potential spoilers.

A fellow Good Omens fan has mentioned that residents of a certain Edinburgh area had unexpected guests recently, knocking on their door and telling them they are filming in their street soon. Imagine their surprise when a polite question about the details led to the offhand answer: “IT'S ONLY GOOD OMENS”.

For those unaware, the City of Edinburgh Council has been working really hard on promoting the city for film and TV industry for a few years now (the effects of which we saw in S2), and has a set of very clear and very publicly available guidelines regarding the modus operandi here.

The Good Omens production has both large scale and a high impact on a specific location due to the crew size, amount of technology used, and requirement for crowd control in most of the exterior and interior scenes (e.g., bookshop, pub, or coffee shop windows), which is why not only the local authorities, but also residents were informed about the filming with an at least 8 days notice:

Ironically, I just had happened to have a trip here planned and a hotel booked within walking distance to the locations on the attached TM and parking plan map, so it would be a waste not to use this opportunity for the greater good of the fandom. Can’t stay long enough to see the actual crew, so unfortunately the hair photos will have to be made by someone else. Disappointing, I know. But there’s still a lot to be excited about!

According to the provided notice, the filming will happen within one working day with the required set-up planned for the day before, mostly in the afternoon hours. The attached map shows planned parking suspension and SYL dispensation on two streets close to the chosen locations, which is where the trailers and equipment vehicles will park:

Location One turns out to be, rather surprisingly, a cosy corner bookshop. The shop — one of the Edinburgh’s oldest surviving secondhand bookstores — is very small, but crammed with a wide ranging library of beautiful books to serve readers and collectors, including antiquarian true first editions and signed copies.

It’s giving Muriel’s sweet and whimsical charm, but the bits and pieces of the unpublished Good Omens sequel point out not towards Whickber Street, where the angel currently resides, but more towards a new in-universe location. Maybe one that will be opened in the future post-Second Coming, maybe one that will remind one of the characters about a home base of operations back in the heart of London’s Soho (and theirs— wait, who said that?).

Notice that the road closure includes north and south sides of the pavement visible in the last photo, so both indoor and outdoor shots could be expected:

Location Two seems a bit more complex, since it’s basically a skewed triangle consisting of one longer street and a short side street diverging from it. Conveniently for the filmmakers, the architecture here is uncharacteristic enough that it could be easily presented as British, Scottish, or even American. I’m personally a bit partial to the last option since it would make sense story- and budget-wise, especially now with the two people previously adamant on shooting the US scenes only on location there not on the production team anymore.

The contrasting structures and materials visible here easily offer background for multiple potential contexts and scenarios, so much in fact that it’s easy to imagine more than one scene being shot here for cost- and time-effective reasons. Some of the buildings along the cobbled road have the right look and feel for historical flashbacks, as you can see below. I find the two separate entrances next to each other particularly lovely:

A considerable part of the buildings in the area, however, belongs to a more modern complex that communicates a very different personality and function. With a bit of camera and post-production magic, it could transform to a wide range of settings — please let me know your thoughts and ideas if you have any!

Specific filming times and more detailed information are consciously not shared out of concern for the crew and cast members who clearly don’t want them to become public knowledge. Those of you who live in the area and might visit the set anyway, please don’t forget to make sure that your presence won’t bother them as well as other locals. And remember to keep any new photos and information contained with tags so that you won’t spoil it to the people who would rather wait for the movie itself!

[gollancz]

Guys. Christmas is coming. Consumerism is in the driver's seat and GAWD don't I know about the existential ennui of all these faceless corporations trying to schill you their wares. It's cold. Impersonal. Bleak.

So I, a fellow tumblr user, will instead try to schill you MY wares, so that when you purchase these items you can say "Hey, that person from tumblr worked on this", and feel the warmth of HUMAN CONNECTION in a way that is completely normal and not parasocial at all. We really are friends. I promise. Yes, you. Love you, bestie. Remember the boop war? Good times. Fond memories.

THIRTEEN STOREYS and FAMILY BUSINESS by Jonathan Sims

Tumblr's favourite Nightmare Factory @jonnywaistcoat has two novels out and they're phenomenal horror that also punch you in the throat with SOCIAL COMMENTARY and FEELINGS. He's so adept at tapping into the specific part of my brain that feels fear like a small child - not the adult creepy scared that I normally get around horror, but specifically the kind of fear that almost freezes your limbs and vocal chords with a terror you don't quite understand because there is so much in the world that you don't know, but you know that somehow this thing might be quick enough or smart enough or sneaky enough to get you before you can get to the safety of your parents sort of fear.

THIRTEEN STOREYS is a haunted house novel, but set in a refurbished block of flats. Each chapter follows a different resident being haunted in a different way, with a style to match the flavour of ghost. It's all tied together phenomenally and brutally.

FAMILY BUSINESS is a story about ghosts in a different way, following a woman who joins a post-mortem house cleaning service while grieving the death of her best friend. But as she removes the stains from the houses of the dead, she begins to suspect something else is removing even more.

Both of these titles are available from Gollancz worldwide!

THE LAST UNICORN, THE WAY HOME, THE INNKEEPER'S SONG and A FINE AND PRIVATE PLACE by Peter S. Beagle

Obviously Peter's work needs no introduction, and our editions aren't available in the US and Canada, but I've had a wonderful time working with Peter and his team to bring these beautiful books back to the UK. Meeting him at Worldcon this year was such a magical moment, and he was jet-lagged and I had gone through sleep deprived into hyper and was bringing an Extremely Weird Energy to every interaction I had that day, resulting in this photo:

THE LAST UNICORN and THE WAY HOME are a matched pair of wonderful fairy stories. THE WAY HOME has two novellettes in it, and the first - 'Two Hearts' - won the Hugo award. It will also destroy you.

A FINE AND PRIVATE PLACE was Peter's first ever novel, and it's wistful and romantic and so beautiful.

THE INNKEEPER'S SONG is his epic fantasy quest, it's an adventure story that reads almost lyrically. Also there's an orgy in the middle which caught me by surprise when I was reading it for the first time on the train into work.

HIGH VAULTAGE by Chris and Jen Sugden

It's possible that someone on this website doesn't know I was involved with this book but don't worry, I will HUNT THEM DOWN AND TELL THEM. This is the first book I took all the way through the editorial process from end to end and I am SO PROUD of it and Chris and Jen and their wonderful world of @victoriocity. Officially one of the seven funniest books published in the UK this year, shortlisted for the Wodehouse Prize for Comic Fiction. It's a chaotic, bonkers murder mystery set in an alternate Victorian London which is the most gleeful dystopia I have ever encountered.

Featuring:

Grumpy Sunshine besties

The Victorian Equivalent of the Chuck Norris Meme

A robot who undertook a course in People Management

An indefatigable beagle

This is another book that you can get from Gollancz all over the world, and you SHOULD because it's amazing. Go into your local bookshop and ask them to order it into stock. It's a great Christmas present. It's my firstborn book baby (like that's a completely normal thing to say when I didn't even write it). Also if you're a fan of the podcast, why not tell the Guardian how great it is, and make a nuisance of yourself until they review. (I would, but the form asks for your name and then they'd know I didn't suddenly discover Victoriocity this year. Either that or think I was a very careless editor.) If you've not listened to the podcast yet, you absolutely should. It pings all my Douglas Adams receptors in the best way. If you like HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE, if you like CABIN PRESSURE, VICTORIOCITY is the perfect addition.

HAMMAJANG LUCK by Makana Yamamoto

SLIGHTLY cheating because HAMMAJANG LUCK isn't out in North America until January (pre-orders make great Christmas presents guys), but it IS out in the UK and the rest of the world next week! This is my second big editorial project and it's a Big Gay Space Heist ft. disaster lesbians, trans characters, and a tech billionaire getting put in his place. It's joyous and energetic and crammed full of Hawaiian pidgin as a love letter to the diaspora. @makana-yama is a phenomenal writer and this is their love letter to their communities, families both born and found, while also a statement on the victims of gentrification (and how those are disproportionally BIPOC communities). PLUS:

friends to enemies to cautious allies to lovers

trans cyborgs

Suck It Space Elon

You know that One Scene in Charlie's Angels where Cameron Diaz is in the white body suit and breaking into the safe and has to stretch out to hit two buttons at once? Yeah. That's the vibe.

Being able to work with Makana is a delight, and HAMMAJANG tapped into all the feelings I got watching LEVERAGE for the first time, so I went to watch it again while I was editing. Also OCEAN'S 8.

DEEP BLACK by Miles Cameron

So, barring Branderson, Miles Cameron may be one of our most prolific authors. He writes a minimum two books a year, one SFF and one historical fiction (as Christian Cameron) and he is... An absolute phenomenon. He IS the Chuck Norris meme. I'm obsessed with him. He's former US military intelligence turned naturalised Canadian Hippy, has written over fifty novels, can turn his hand to any genre and write it fantastically, is a practical archaeologist - running large scale re-enactments from a variety of periods ranging from Bronze Age right the way up to the Victorian era, using traditional techniques to allow academics to study how the practicalities of weapons, clothes, food etc. would have worked in practice. Two years ago he won a medieval combat tournament in Verona, a clear ten years older at least than the next oldest competitor, he teaches Historical European Martial Arts, but ties it into the history of martial arts globally. He can make his own clothes, ink, leatherwork. He's a ballet dancer. I once took him for a day out and he ended it in a different shirt and shoes from the ones he'd started in. I asked him for an author photo and he sent me this:

DEEP BLACK is the sequel to his critically acclaimed SF debut ARTIFACT SPACE, where he has taken his research and experience of global historical cultures and extrapolated to create an interplanetary future where the best of all are celebrated. And then Aliens Happen. And then, in reaction, Capitalism Happens (which is covered in the short story collection BEYOND THE FRINGE).

He's such a thoughtful and erudite speaker, if you're curious about his work, I'd recommend listening to his episodes on the Friends Talking Fantasy podcast, and also his appearance on The Publishing Rodeo.

If SF isn't your bag, he's also got:

Arthurian fantasy

Bronze Age fantasy

Medieval Mages fantasy

A CURSE OF CROWS - Lauren Dedroog

I actually inherited Lauren when a colleague of mine departed for fresh pastures, which gave me the great opportunity to work on this series which is so vastly different from my usual fare. It's epic, sweeping, romantic and lush, with such detailed description and complex political machinations, while also being brutal, dark and heavy (tw: for sexual assault, torture etc, etc.). If you like Sarah J Maas and Cassandra Clare, this should hit the sweet spot. Lauren is an ICU nurse when not writing, and this was somehow created when she was putting in a million hours in hospitals during COVID. The feat boggles my mind.

A CURSE OF CROWS is out now in the UK, Australia and Europe, and it won the People's Choice for Standaard Boek's Book of the Year award in 2023, in her home country of Belgium. It will be hitting shelves in North America next September! A DANCE OF SERPENTS is where I get to pick up the editorial mantle, and that has just landed in my inbox this week so I am excited to dig in.

Featuring:

Harold, they're lesbians

Murder baby is actually a cinnamon roll

Sensitive wings are sexy

For serious, though, I'm lucky enough to work with a lot of authors I'm genuinely obsessed and astounded by. And yes, I do get to work on Joe Abercrombie, Brandon Sanderson and Andrzej Sapkowski, but they're not MY authors - they're led by the incredible Gillian and Marcus who I'm not 100% certain sleep. There are so many people on the Gollancz list who I could recommend for DAYS (and will, if you so request), but this is my stable of superstars.

[moonknightsonata]

Acts of Service

pairing: moon system x reader, marc x reader centered

summary: You learn Steven and Jake’s love languages quickly, Marc’s takes a little longer to realize but it doesn’t surprise you.

cw: not many, a brief non-explicit mention of sex, Marc getting anxious about your relationship

wc: 1199

a/n: Happy new year! This is not beta read, my first time writing for the moon boys and also my first time posting and sharing a fic in probably like 5+ years. Please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings, and let me know what you think! I tried keeping the reader as inclusive as I could, but please let me know if I slipped up with anything.

—

When you first started seeing the system, they all showed affection in similar ways. Holding hands, chaste kisses, flowers at the start of dates and walking you home at the end of them. They each had their own ways of going about it, but at the start all 3 of them were stereotypical in their affection.

Now, months later, you could easily tell each of the boy’s love languages.

Steven fluttered between quality time and words of affirmation. He was a romantic at heart, so in reality, he would do anything you asked of him, really. But you could tell he was happiest just being near you, telling you how much he loved you, and hearing the words in return.

Date night with Steven would be art galleries, museum tours, site seeing, or just walking around the markets hand in hand. Cafe’s and bookshops for rainy days, which there were plenty of in London, filled weekends with him where you could just sit in each other’s company and read besides one another.

Jake was the master of physical touch. You think it’s because he didn’t have as much time fronting as the other two, and his only physical touch with humans up until the three started getting along was when he took over the body in emergencies like in Cairo. When Jake was fronting, his hands were always on you.

Jake always had his arm on you when in public. Around your shoulder, or on your waist, he didn’t have a preference as long as he had you in his arm in some way. You liked to compare him to a livestock dog. Not like sheepdogs who herded them, but like a pyrenees that would fight a wolf off a lamb.

He was also the most handsy in the bedroom.

Marc took the longest to pinpoint his love language. Mostly due to the fact that he was the last to open up to a relationship with you.

You had met Steven first, dated Steven first, and then met Jake and Marc along the way. The relationship with Jake blossomed easily, but Marc still had walls he had built standing steady, that he wasn’t ready to break down yet. For a while even, you weren’t sure he liked you. After anxieties about it were aired out, Marc reassured you he did like you, he was “just shit at showing it” as he had put it. He hadn’t wanted to get close, mess things up with you and risk everything Steven and Jake had with you. That was the turning point for you and Marc’s relationship.

You thought it was behind you, until you noticed Marc’s odd behavior one day.

“Marc, baby, are you alright?” You asked him, leaning against the kitchen counter as he washed dishes.

“Hm?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, nodding as he kept his attention mostly on the pan he was scrubbing. “Yea, fine, why’d you ask?”

“Because you’ve been scrubbing that pan for about 10 minutes now. I think it’s clean.” You smiled softly, as his brow scrunched when he realized.

“Fine… yeah. I just… you know I love you?” He finished his sentence more like a question.

“Of course I know. I love you too.” You moved closer to him, putting a hand on his cheek to look him in the eyes. “What brought this about?”

“I don’t… I don’t say it enough. When we met you weren’t even sure I liked you, and now I don’t even say I love you as often as Jake or Steven do. So I just…” Marc lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand to his hair, pushing his curls out of his face as he steps away from you. You give him his space, you know when he needs it. To work out emotions without feeling suffocated or closed in.

“Just thought maybe you weren’t sure again.”

Marc avoids looking directly at your face as you look at his. You understand him, more than you probably know, which scares Marc. Not in a bad way, but scares him in a way he can’t believe there was someone out there who could.

Which is why what you say shouldn’t surprise him, but it does anyway.

“You don’t have to say it in the same way Steven or Jake do for me to know.” You start softly. “You have a different way of showing it, than they do.”

Marc’s eyebrows furrow, even more than the wrinkled brow he usually has.

He can only describe the look on your face that you give him as adoring, as you continue.

“The days that you front, you’re always up before me. Whether you’re an early riser or you never really fell asleep that night - you know exactly how to make my coffee in the morning and I always wake up to a cup made the way I like sitting on the counter waiting for me.

“I also know that it isn’t Jake who had my car’s oil changed, or the tires rotated a couple weeks ago.”

Marc shrugs at that one, mumbles something that you think is “That’s not a big deal.”

As you tell him all this, you can’t believe it took you this long to realize that Marc’s love language was acts of service. Because of course it was. Marc, the giver. Marc, who always felt he needed to prove his worth and make up for sins of his past, by any means necessary. Your Marc, who did so much for you without expecting a ‘thank you’ because that was how he showed he cared.

You kept going with more examples.

“Last week I forgot my umbrella and my lunch in the apartment and you came all the way to my job to drop them off for me.” You wrap your arms around Marc’s waist at this, resting your head against him in a hug.

“Or, when it’s cold, you always turn my heated blanket on the bed while I’m doing my night time routine, so that the bed is nice and warm by the time I climb in. And when -“ You could keep going, listing the things you notice Marc does for you, but he stops you with flushed cheeks.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I do a lot for you.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully as he wraps his arms around you to return the hug. “I like taking care of you.”

“You take care of me because you love me.”

Marc nods, kissing your forehead. “Yeah, I do. I’m just sorry I don’t say it more.”

“I don’t need you to. It’s nice to hear, but I still know it. You show me every day.” You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss, which Marc gratefully returns.

“And I’ll continue to show you every day, until you get tired of me.”

“I’d never get tired of you, baby. You, Jake and Steven are all stuck with me.”

Marc laughs. “Stuck with you? Making it sound like that’s a bad thing. Honey, I think you’re the one ‘stuck’ with the three of us.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[shoemakerobstetrician]

Season 3 Opening Scene Nightingale 1941 Theory

So, season 2 opened with a flashback that had us totally reevaluating Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s relationship. I think the same will be true of season 3.

I think we will return to the night in 1941, to find out that they kissed, danced, or more that night.

1 - Why are they sitting at a table in the bookshop just drinking, no food on the table? When they’re drinking they don’t use a table. I think it’s to clue us in that there is more to the scene than what we are seeing - at some point before or after they had dinner.

2 - We know that Aziraphale did the apology dance in 1941 - again an indication that there is probably more to that evening than what we have seen so far.

3 - When Crowley says ‘no nightingales’ in S2E6 we now think he’s referring to the scene at the end of S1E6 in the Ritz, but it does seem a bit of a reach. It was a very nice moment, but I don’t think a relationship defining one that would cause both of them to think of it as their song.

4 - A Nightingale Sang was released in 1940, first charting at the end of December 1940. It would have been a hit in 1941 (according to Wikipedia it got up to #2).

5 - I think they had dinner, they danced, or perhaps even kissed to Nightingale as it was playing on the radio, and it became their song in a much more significant moment in 1941.

6 - When Aziraphale says to Crowley “Perhaps one day we could…dine at the Ritz” after “You go too fast for me Crowley” he would then be directly referring to their song from 1941.

7 - When it plays at the Ritz at the end of season 1, it’s because the pianist finds themselves mysteriously compelled to perform it, like the Oxford bus driver taking them to London.

8 - And finally, when Crowley says “no nightingales” at the end of S2 it is just devastating, it’s him saying there is no us.

And another thing: in the lyrics to Nightingale: That Certain night, the night we met/There was MAGIC abroad in the air. 😁

One more thing: I can certainly see Neil gleefully being like “Psych, it WASN’T their first kiss.”, and the scene would be just as heartbreaking if not more so if it was what Crowley thought was their last kiss.

ETA I just rewatched the bookshop table scene for like the 17th time. Holy 💩 is the dialogue strange and very loaded. The “trust me” bit, and the “shades of grey”. Throughout the whole scene Aziraphale is sideways eye fucking Crowley. There is simply no way we’re not going to see more of this scene in Season 3.

I very much like this whole idea, it probably won’t happen. Maybe someone will write a fanfic at least.

[heyyyharry]

I'M GOING TO BE A PUBLISHED AUTHOR!!!!!

Hi Tumblr friends,

It's Allie (again) if you remember me. I'm the author of the Flatmate series (Harry Styles fanfic), which I was meant to self-publish before I vanished from Tumblr. In the last life update, I told you I wasn't going to self-pub anymore and was pursuing trad-pub/trying to get an agent. So here's an update:

I got an agent last August for my YA Fantasy pitched as SPIRITED AWAY meets ONE DARK WINDOW. We went on submission in October and now (the week before my 27th birthday!!!), I finally have good news to share!

I GOT NOT ONLY ONE BUT TWO OFFERS FROM TWO AMAZING PUBLISHERS AND ONE OF THEM IS A BIG ONE!!!! We're in the negotiation stage right now so there's nothing more I can share, but it's crazy to think this whole journey started with me posting fanfiction on this website. Now I'm going to see my book in big bookshops in London my dream city, also my home now!

Once again, I'm so grateful for all the friendships I made on Tumblr. I wouldn't be where I am without you!!!! More soon xxxxxx

Love,

Allie

Follow my writing journey on:

Twitter/X: @alliewritesalot

Instagram: @alliewritesalot

[inlovewithquotes]

It is through books that we can find the greatest hope.

-The Last Bookshop In London

[the-ineffable-dance]

So, I made a silly little post a while ago about how cute it was that Aziraphale suddenly wanted to take the Bentley after waiting 90 years to drive here. But since I wrote it, I watched the episode again, and suddenly a few things started to fall into place.

Aziraphale being so desperate to take the Bentley always struck me as kind of strange. Like, he's spent 90 years of Crowley driving around and has never asked to drive before. Why right now? Crowley seems as surprised by the request... he's not taking the train? He loves trains!

And then... it hit me. He's going to Edinburgh.

The last time he went to Edinburgh, his worst nightmare came true. Crowley got pulled down to Hell to face punishment for his acts of kindness.

And now, Aziraphale is going back there. The circumstances are completely different, of course, but I'm certain that he remembers vividly losing Crowley. He would want to make sure that Crowley is safe and out of Hell's reach while he's gone.

But with him out of London, how can he make sure that his demon is safe? The Bentley is now not only Crowley's car, but also where he's living now that he got kicked out of his apartment, so most of his time is spent there. Aziraphale is probably aware of this, but he also knows that the demons can get to Crowley in the car. Beelzebub entered the Bentley without permission, as did Hastur in season 1.

But the bookshop is safe. Only Aziraphale can give permission to enter the shop (Crowley seems to have permanent permission because he can now come at will). So, he takes the Bentley, and asks Crowley to watch over Jimbriel in the bookshop, in the one place that he will be completely safe.

Now all Crowley has to deal with is an amnesiac archangel! What could possibly go wrong?

[hirukochan]

Stood-up

A Severus Snape x fem!reader Oneshot

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Severus Snape x former student reader

Summary: Your former professor saves you from embarrassment when your blind date doesn't show up to the fancy restaurant you were meant to meet at.

Warnings: Smut, Loss of virginity, virgin reader

Wordcount: 5007

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

You did not expect life after Hogwarts to be…this. Whatever this is. Boring. That much is certain. You finished school five years ago with good grades and that was it. You celebrated your graduation with your friends who were already gushing about their future careers and their dream jobs, and you had nothing to offer to the conversation. You didn’t know what you wanted to do after school. And five years later you still don’t know.

You wanted to move out of your parents’ house and so you went to interviews for any job you thought yourself decently qualified for. You ended up working in a depressing little second hand bookshop in Diagon Alley. The owner, some rich fuck that doesn’t even live in London, pays you well to take care of anything that needs taking care of because the shop belonged to his wife’s grandfather, and she can’t bear separating with it. 

You also get to live rent-free in the one-room flat above the store. You have a kitchen, a bed and a bathroom and no controlling boss looming over your every move. Life is…good. It’s ok, nothing groundbreaking, but how many people get that? How realistic is an action filled, thrilling life actually?

Your friends seem content with life as it is and so you try to be content as well. 

In reality you feel lost.

You have looked into universities, but you aren’t sure if you’d be good enough and the fear of failing holds you back. Besides, what would you even study? In school charms had been your favourite, but was that because of the subject or your teacher? Professor Flitwick had made each class a delight to be in.

You shove the thoughts away, focusing on finishing up closing the store. A friend has set up a blind-date for you. Some guy she works with at the Ministry. She has gushed about him endlessly and you are sure were she not in a relationship herself - she would totally try to date him. 

That is a recipe for disaster, but you want to indulge your friend or perhaps just make her shut up and so you go along.

You lock up the shop and hurry upstairs to shower, change and put on some makeup. An hour later you are standing outside the shop, mentally preparing for the apparition. You are certain you’ll never get used to it.

Pleasant, classical music floods the street as you open the door to the wizarding restaurant and bar in central London. This is already outside your comfort zone. Too fancy and too full. Are you underdressed? Are you overdressed? Shit, what if he isn’t here yet?

“Reservation for Everett.” You say to the hostess who swishes her wand and looks through the list of reservations.

“This way, madam. Your partner is not here yet.” Shit. Of course, he wouldn’t be. You are early. Way too early. Pathetic, desperate early.

The hostess shows you to your table and you smile kindly as you sit down. A waiter hurries over to you and asks for your drink order.

“Wine. Red, please.” The waiter is gone before you can finish your sentence. A glass of wine floats to your table shortly after. You let your eyes wander over the room as you take small sips. A few couples sit at the tables, some more stand at the bar, chatting with each other.

You wait.

And wait.

Three glasses later you know you got stood up. You try to fight the tears stinging in your eyes and dig through your purse for some money to pay for the drinks and scurry out of the restaurant as fast as possible. 

How pathetic! Hot shame spreads through your chest, your guts twist at the mere thought of getting up and leaving. Your feet don’t work. They simply won’t respond to your command. With all your willpower you stifle a sob in your throat. This is your last straw.

All the disappointment over life after Hogwarts, the loneliness, being lost and left behind by the golden opportunities your future had promised you - and now not even your date could bother to show up! You didn’t even want to meet him. Prick!

“Ms. (L/N)?” You flinch. That voice. You are sure that voice would give you war-like flashbacks for the rest of your life. Running through corridors at night, blood pounding in your ears, already feeling safe as the entrance to your common room approaches just to be violently stopped by those words.

You turn and meet the dark eyes of your former professor for potions. 

Severus Snape has not changed in the five years since you last saw him. The same hooked nose, same pale skin. Black greasy hair falling into his face. The long black robes hiding every inch of his skin.

“P-professor Snape.” You reply, because you have to say something. His eyes wander over you, clearly made up for a date and then twitch to the empty seat across from you. They narrow as they see the three empty glasses and the slight redness of your eyes. Without saying anything he slips into the seat across from you.

“Two glasses of whatever the lady has been drinking.” He says as he grabs a waiter by the arm. He gestures towards the glasses. “And get rid of these. What kind of service is this?” The waiter apologises profusely and hurries away quickly. 

You stare at Snape in bewilderment. He is sitting across from you. He saw you got stood up and sat down. And he ordered drinks. 

He is looking at you. Say something. Anything. Shit shit shit.

“I was supposed to meet someone.” You say, cursing how meek you sound. You look away and try to subtly wipe the corner of your eye where a stubborn little tear tries very hard to run down your cheek. You know if you allow that one to pass your lashes, there is no holding back the rest.

“I gathered.” He leans back in his chair, his eyes still roaming over you. Instantly you feel like you are back in the dungeons of Hogwarts, trying your best to brew a potion while he stares at you, waiting for the moment you fail. You swallow hard as the familiar nervousness of being around Snape takes over.

“A boyfriend?”

“N-no. A friend set it up- never met him.”

“What do you do these days?” You blush. You were afraid he might ask that.

“I-I run a little b-bookshop in Diagon Alley…sir.” The ‘sir’ slips out before you can stop it. A smirk tucks at the corners of his mouth at the sound of it but dies instantly.

“A bookshop? And you’re happy with that?” You shrug. You aren’t, but you wouldn’t tell him that. You cling to your glass. This is worse than getting stood up and humiliated. Infinitely worse. Snape leans over the table, his dark eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place.

“I am not going to bite you. Unless-” You tense. Is he flirting? Merlin’s beard- You feel heat rise to your face and stare down at the wine in your hands. “I apologise. This is inappropriate and you clearly wish to be as far away from me as possible. I’ll leave you to it.” Snape says, an edge of self-loathing sneaking into his voice. He digs through his pocket and puts down a few coins on the table.

“Stay-” You have no idea how you manage to force the word out of your constricting throat but there it is. Out in the open. 

Snape stares at you in disbelief. You take a shaky, deep breath and look up to meet his intense gaze.

“Stay.” You repeat, firmer this time. That expression flashes through his eyes again and after a moment of hesitation he settles down.

“U-unless I am keeping you from meeting someone. I-” You hadn’t considered why he might be here. Shit, is he on a date? And instead of that he took pity on you? Does Snape date? 

He chuckles. The sound as foreign to your ears as kindness or praise from him. It goes straight to your core, and you gulp as you are violently tossed back into your old crush. That is the last thing you need now! 

Imagining him doing all sorts of things to you during class was bad enough already - mainly because it really messed with your grade - but imagining them now that you are no longer his student, no longer sixteen- You blush even more as you realise that - in theory - you could do these things now. 

It has been five years since you graduated, sure it is a bit weird maybe, but entirely allowed. You have not been in contact with him since graduation. He has made no inappropriate comment to you while you were his student ever- in fact he barely ever talked to you.

You feel Snape’s hot gaze burn through your skull. It’s almost like he knows. Which is entirely impossible. Or is it? He has the uncanny ability to know when students are planning mischief behind his back and such things as reading minds isn’t at all a ridiculous idea to wizards- shit.

Snape’s lips curl as you stare at him.

“Oh, yes.” His smooth voice says in your head. “I know. I know all the little fantasies you have been coming up with for years.” The colour vanishes from your face. You take a big gulp of your wine, downing the entire thing in one go to aid your suddenly parched throat. Snape swirls the wine in his glass, never taking his eyes off you.

“A-and is that some-something you’d…you’d want?” You ask. Your heart twists and turns in your chest, your insides clench almost uncomfortably. You have no idea where you take the bravery from to say it out loud. 

His grin grows, his eyes darken, snapping down to the neckline of your dress. In one smooth movement he gets up and holds his hand out to you.

This is it.

The one opportunity you’d get.

You take his hand. 

Your skin tingles where it touches him and a giddy feeling spreads through you. 

You are going to sleep with your Potions professor. Former professor. Dark, unapproachable, cruel Snape. The man you have been fantasising about since 6th grade. The man that terrifies you as much as he intrigues you.

Together you leave the restaurant. He guides you towards an abandoned alley and lets go of your hand to snake his arm around your waist.

“Hold on tight.” He whispers in his ear. You can feel his breath on your neck and a shudder runs down your spine. You take a shaky breath and put your arms around his waist. You are swept up in his scent, musky and herbal. It clouds your mind instantly and you bite your tongue so you don’t inhale deeper just so it can flood your senses more. His magic wraps around you and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the apparition to pass. You can feel the chuckle rumble through Snape’s chest before you hear it.

“Still no fan?” 

“No.” You reply breathless and separate from him. He holds onto your waist, eyeing you as though he expects you to collapse. Right- You did. During Apparition training in your 7th year, you lost consciousness after your first successful attempt. He was one of the teachers overseeing the training. 

You blush as the memory of how embarrassed you felt waking up in his arms, your whole year watching, resurfaces in your mind. You clear your throat and look around. You’re in Diagon Alley, not far away from the bookshop. You dig through your pocket and get out the key as you walk towards it. 

You are going to have sex. 

You are going to have sex with Snape. He’s walking right behind you. Nervous doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel.

“This is it.” You say and close the door behind you. Your flat looks terribly small with Snape standing in it. 

“Do you still want me to stay?”

“Yes. I’m just-”

“Yes?” He steps closer.

“You intimidate me.”

“Is that a good thing? Or a bad thing?”

“Good.” You reply breathlessly. Your mind is already foggy just from him standing so close to you. His eyes roam over your face, as though he is determined to enter all its details to his memory. Your heart beats impossibly fast in your chest, smashing against your ribcage so hard you wonder whether Snape can hear it. He leans down, inky hair falling into his face, stealing your view of the room around you. 

Your insides clench and scream for him to kiss you. Finally kiss you. You bite your bottom lip to stop its pathetic quivering. His scent floods your senses and briefly renders your mind nonexistent. 

Snape runs his fingertips over your arm, starting at your wrist and drawing goosebumps across your naked skin, all the way up to your shoulder. Your breath hitches and you barely manage to withstand the urge to hold onto him.

“You’d have to take this off first.” He says, quiet, calm. His voice sends a shiver through your body. He drags his fingers over your shoulder to your neck. He takes the zipper and slowly pulls it down, the sound resounds in your room loud like thunder. 

He barely touches your skin when he peels the straps off your shoulder and gently tugs the dress down and over your hips. It pools around your feet on the ground.

Snape takes a step back and takes in your body. You aren’t wearing a bra, you own none that would have looked good with the dress and stand in front of him only in a pair of black lace knickers.

His eyes remain as unreadable as they always are. He seems to assess your body with the same impartiality as he used to look at your potions. You shiver, cold air swirling around your heated skin, goosebumps spread across your skin and your nipples harden. Your face is burning hot though, and you barely resist the impulse of covering yourself with your arms.

Just when you begin to think this is some cruel joke, he is playing on you to embarrass you, he closes the distance between you two - too fast for your mind to catch up. He grabs your waist and smashes your body against his. His lips crash against your collarbone, his teeth graze your skin.

You gasp and sink your hands into his hair, marvelling at how soft it feels. He kisses your skin, sucks and nibbles. White hot lust seeps into your skin from the saliva he spreads across it. 

He holds your waist in his surprisingly strong arms and attacks your chest, worshipping every inch of you as though you are some ancient artefact promising prosperity and luck to loyal devotees. He groans against you, and you join with a moan of yourself, arching your back, offering your chest up to him. He accepts without hesitation, with enthusiasm even. Snape licks broad, firm strokes over your exposed breast, roughly kneading the other with his hand.

His thorough attention is dizzying. Blood pounds in your ears and waves upon waves of merciless pleasure course through you, twisting your vocal cords into the strangest of sounds you have never heard yourself make.

“Are you a virgin?” He groans against your skin.

“Y-yes-” He stops, dead in his tracks. Slowly his head tilts back, his gaze snapping in on yours.

“Yes?” Hunger flashes through his eyes and he licks his lips. “How the fuck are you still a virgin?” You blush more fiercely if that is even possible. Your shrug and drops your hands to his shoulders.

“Um- nobody was ever interested in me like that.”

“You’re what? Twenty-one?”

“Twenty-two.”

“And nobody ever touched your gorgeous fucking body?” He sounds baffled, like your words are the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard.

“Touched, yes…snogging at parties in the common room and such, but-” Your voice trails off. 

“You are telling me.” He says, his voice growing to untamed deep turmoil of unabashed desire and feral lust. “Nobody ever sucked on these dainty, splendid nipples?” As if to emphasise his words he closes his lips around one, holding it between his teeth and flicking his tongue over it. You whimper. Your legs shake under the weight of your own body, and you cling to his shoulders. His eyes never leave you, the weight of them heavy on you, buzzing on your skin. You throw your head back, moaning like you’ve never moaned before.

He chuckles, the vibration of it ripples through the tissue of your breast and sinks deep into your body, melting into your bones. He kisses his way back up to your collarbone and neck.

“Fools. Every single one of them that did not realise what they are missing out on.” He gently sucks on the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck. He steers you backwards until your calves meet the frame of your bed and you allow your body to fall back.

Snape kicks his shoes off and slips out of his cloak before he follows you, crawling over the bed, up your body like a predator about to devour his prey. A shiver rushes through you at that thought. Yes- you want him to devour you, to worship you, to ruin you and build you back up. He braces his arms against the mattress on either side of your head.

“And you still want me to stay?” The words fall into the space between your bodies, filled with heat and want, desire and fear, buzzing with anticipation. His eyes are softer somehow, less intense, but not less hungry. They tell you how much he wants you, craves you but also tell you he’d stop. You just need to say the word and he will leave. Without shaming you, without a cruel word or ounce of disappointment. 

“Yes.”

“You want to give this first experience to me? Of all people?”

“I’ve always wanted it to be you.” Snape groans and closes his eyes. His head drops, coming to rest against your shoulder, nestling to the crook of your neck.

“Do you have any idea-” He is breathing heavy, clenching his fists in your sheets, his body one large, tensed muscle. “-what you do to me?” Before you can answer he grabs one of your hands and brings it down. He presses it against his upper thigh where his cock is very hard, straining against its confines. You gasp at which Snape smirks. He rolls his hips against your hand.

“It’s big…” You whisper, more fear mixing in with your burning arousal.

“You can take it.” He leans down. His lips brush over your cheek. “I’ll make sure of it.” His breath dances over the shell of your ear, prickling. As soon as it passes your skin feels terribly cold, like it’s never going to be warm ever again just to be replaced by burning heat. Snape drags the tip of his tongue across the shell of your ear and back down to close his lips around your earlobe.

The whimper that falls from your lips at that is more of a high pitched squeak and finally, finally he kisses you. His lips are soft like silk and warm, reminding you of a mug of butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks in winter. 

You sigh and move your lips with his, threading your fingers through his hair. Despite the way he has been acting so far, he kisses you passionately, almost slow, but no less thorough. 

Severus Snape is nothing if not thorough. 

And he intends to savour you.

You part your lips for him, eager to move this along, eager to feel him and the pleasure he can bring you, but when it comes to actually deepening the kiss you hesitate. Snape senses your nervousness and takes over the decision making from you. The tip of his tongue meets yours and he slides it slowly over your own, easing you into the kiss and coaxing a small moan from you. 

You relax against him and surrender yourself to his touch once more. You have never been kissed like this. With want and need, with passion and hunger. He maps out your mouth as though he is trying to dissect a potion he has never seen into its separate components. 

His hands run over your body, your sides and stomach to your thighs. You whine at his touch and muscles twitch under your skin as if to reach out to his calloused fingers. The wool of his frock rubs against your skin when he moves. You reach out to work on the endless row of buttons but are rather abruptly interrupted by his fingers against your cunt. 

A surprised, shuddering gasp escapes you and your fingers tense against his chest. Snape chuckles into the kiss, never once stopping his assault on your mouth. Playful he circles your entrance, gathering you slick and spreading it to your clit. You cling to his shoulders and push your head back into the pillows. Pressure builds deep in your cunt, and you need him to ease it- need him to- to-

“Ahh-” You cry out and dig your nails into Snape’s shoulders. Your own fingers never felt that fucking good.

“Are we enjoying ourself?” Snape teases, watching the pleasure drunk expression on your face.

“Mhh…Snape-” You buck your hips into his hand. “Please- fuck me-”

“Patience, dear. I told you I would make sure you can take me.” He teases your entrance with a finger, coating it in your slick and then gently pushes inside you. “I will fuck you. I will fuck you so well nobody will ever compare to me, but first I’ll stretch this virgin cunt because as you so eloquently put it - It’s big.”

“There was this rumour back in school-” You murmur, blissful pleasure clouding your mind and rendering it utterly useless. “-that- that….oohhh-”

“That I’m a virgin?” He smirks. He pumps his finger inside you, curling it and pressing upwards slightly and a flash of searing pleasure explodes inside your cunt, and you squirm under him, rolling your hips into his touch to get more more more. “Does it feel like I am? Like I’ve never touched a woman?”

“Snape-”

“Dear, believe me, I know your body better than you.” You want to get offended by that statement. What a man thing to say but then Snape does something with his finger, twisting and curling at the same time or something else, interrupting your thoughts harshly with another mind-blowing ripple of pleasure. 

Snape adds a second finger, stretching you carefully and kissing you the entire time, then a third. You are hot all over. Sweat clings to you like a second layer of skin. You are shivering from unfulfilled need and the steadily building pressure deep in your cunt just outside of Snape’s reach.

It builds and builds, beyond anything you were ever able to do to yourself and you have no idea how it keeps building and where all this pressure goes because the thought of it all staying confined in you is absurd!

You whine at the loss of his touch and buck your hips in a futile attempt of stopping his fingers from leaving you. Snape looks very fucking smug, but you are to wound up and needy to even care. 

He watches you squirm, your slickness dripping off his fingers. He traces your lips with his ring finger, spreading your own arousal over them. You are too far gone to really care. Your tongue darts out and licks your lips clean, accepting his finger into your mouth. You suck his fingers clean, one after another, Snape’s dark eyes never leaving you.

“What a good girl.” He coos. His voice rolls over your skin and sinks into your body, causing your insides to clench. 

You watch Snape undo the rest of the buttons and toss the black frock away. He opens his belt, the quiet clink of the buckle echoes in your mind. You’re about to see Snape’s prick. Snape just fingered you. You’ve been kissing Snape! 

Your heart beats faster, like a hummingbird forced to forever fly on the spot in a too small cage. Anticipation takes your breath away and impossibly so, more slickness rushes to your entrance. Every second he takes to open his trousers feels like another fire being lit on your skin. 

He slides a hand in his pants and now you are sure he is doing it to see you squirm because who moves that slow?

You let out an impatient whine and squirm, bucking your hips to grind against him.

“So impatient.” He chuckles and finally, finally frees his prick. 

It’s big is a pretty accurate description, you don't know what Snape has against your eloquence. Jesus fuck, is another option but you doubt Snape would find that more eloquent.

His plush, purple cockhead is already leaking pre-cum. Snape mutters an incantation, you recognise as a contraception spell, before aligning himself with you.

“Don’t worry, dear.” He coos. “I’ll be gentle. Just relax.” You try. You really try, but Snape has your nerve endings running in circles, screaming, while on fire. Stop, drop and roll is not an option that they can think of, mainly because thinking is quite difficult when on fire. 

He pushes against you, and you tense further. Snape rubs your thigh, and you take a deep breath and try to relax your muscles. Slowly, inch after thick inch Snape enters you. Beads of sweat collect on his forehead from the strain of going slow. Inch after inch of your tight channel is mercilessly forced to yield to his girth, stretching you open with a small sting. 

Snape grunts and sinks into you to the hilt, sacking above you to give you time to adjust and also catch his breath.

You are so bloody full. How he isn’t ripping you open is a miracle to you. Your knuckles are white from holding onto his arms. The muscles in your thighs quiver. You give tentatively rolls of your hips, earning a low groan from Snape another wave of deep pleasure.

“You’re breathing really hard.” He mutters into your ear. “I like that - keep working so hard for me, dear.” Snape’s thrusts are long and controlled, massaging your inner walls and hitting just the right spots. You are reduced to a pathetic, needy moaning puddle of bliss and want. 

Snape isn’t doing too much better. His breathing is heavy and loud right next to your ear which drives you deeper and deeper into your trance-like state of ecstatic bliss. His rhythm falters more than once and his groans take on an animalistic edge. 

“So tight.” He grunts and drives back into you. “Just for me-”

“Snape!”

“That’s right. Saved yourself for me, didn’t you, dear?”

“Idiot.” You laugh against his jaw.

“No need to play shy - you can tell me.” Snape smirks and leans his forehead against yours. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” He snaps his hips forward, hitting that spot with more force than before and your breath gets stuck in your throat. You tense and convulse, somehow simultaneously. Snape grunts when you clench around him and your inner walls spasm.

“Keep coming- keep fucking coming for me!” He reaches between your bodies and rubs your clit. A violent wave of pleasure smacks you right in the face and you scream in pleasure. Snape whispers reverent praise and fucks you through your release, coming shortly after with a long groan inside you.

Sweaty, sticky and spent you collapse on the bed, both trying to catch your breath. Snape runs his hand over your thigh absentmindedly. His cum slowly leaks out of you. Your eyelids are heavy. A heavy blanket of bliss and contentment settles over you.

“Thank you.” You whisper into the silence of your flat.

“Whatever for?” He chuckles next to you.

“It was nice.” You shrug.

“Well, I should be thanking you for even letting me touch you.”

“Let’s thank each other.”

“Fine.” You stay there a while longer, but eventually Snape disentangles himself from you and gets up to get dressed.

Lying on your side with your sheets pulled up to cover your still shaking body you watch him.

“You know-” He says but stops himself, a frown appearing on his face. “A career isn’t the only thing to measure how accomplished or fulfilled one’s life is. Your friends might think their jobs are great now, but in ten, twenty years they’ll realise they have never lived a day in their life. This job…” He looks around the flat. “It seems pretty comfortable to me. It seems to give you the freedom to do whatever you want. Create art or music, write, research or go to university. You can do whatever you want - fuck what other people think. Not everybody dreams of labour.”

“What if I’m not good enough?” Snape fastens his cloak. He looks up. His eyes seem heavy with a burden you can’t quite understand. The corner of his mouth twitches and perhaps for the first time in the years you have known him you see him smile.

“I think you can achieve anything you put your mind to. And either way. How will you know if you never try? The day will come you’ll regret having allowed your fear to hold you back.” His cloak billows behind him when he turns to leave. His hand already on the doorknob he stops.

“I hope you find happiness.”

“I hope you find happiness too, Professor.”

“For some of us it’s too late.” And with those words he disappears into the darkness of the night.

Three weeks later Albus Dumbledore is murdered by Severus Snape.

| Part 2 |

[blogthefiresidechats]

5 Books I Wish I'd Read Sooner

There are a few that I had wish I’d read sooner. Continue reading to see what I picked and let me know in the comments what you would have picked……. Harry Potter = The first one is actually the Harry Potter series. I didn’t get into the Harry Potter series when it first came out because I didn’t think a children’s series could hold my attention. But then I noticed that several of my friends and…

[petermorwood]

Once there was a bookshop.

Its name was "Dark They Were And Golden Eyed", the title of a Ray Bradbury short story.

I'd seen it advertised in the back of my "Conan The Barbarian" comics, black-and-white UK reprints of the US originals which came out on the same day - Thursday, I think - as a two-hour first period history lesson (9AM-11AM).

So I bought my weekly Conan on the way to school as a pleasant back-of-the-class distraction from such A-Level delights as "Metternich and the Congress of Vienna" or "Bismarck and the origins of the Franco-Prussian War" or "Causes and Consequences of the French Revolution".

I was getting into fantasy at that time because British publishers were bringing it out like there was no tomorrow - Robert E. Howard "Conan" stories from Sphere, Clark Ashton Smith "Zothique" stories from Panther, and the Michael Moorcock book-of-the-month club from Mayflower.

Dark They Were was a sort of holy grail, because London wasn’t exactly round the corner or even a mere long train ride away as Dublin might have been, and my parents weren't willing to let me make a trip like that all alone. (I also suspect Dad had checked a map and found that Dark They Were was in the heart of Soho, a place with Other Kinds Of Bookshop.)

*****

I finally went to London after getting A-levels good enough for Uni, despite my History result not being what it might have been (no idea how that happened). :-P

Dad was right about the Other Kinds Of Bookshop, a couple of which I duly investigated and found to be educational, although not in the way intended. Even though the places I ate and drank and the books and records I bought on that same trip are long forgotten, I can still remember it.

Despite having at least my usual allowance of critical-faculty-blunting late teen hormones, the shops outweighed it with their air of furtive sleaze, like the carpet in a seedy bar that sticks to your shoes - except this was an all-body experience. They certainly filled me with desire, but that desire was for a long, hot shower.

So much for the main attraction of late-'70s Soho...

*****

Far more attractive was my discovery, just a short walk round the corner from DTW, of 58 Dean Street Records, which specialised in soundtrack albums.

I'd been buying soundtrack LPs for years, so what with DTW and 58, I was well laden on my way home, and none of those purchases needed hidden from the parents, either... :->

Despite that, Forever People in Bristol was an even more important SF bookshop, at least to me. For one thing it was easier to reach, less than an hour away when visiting an old school friend who at that time lived in Cardiff.

For another thing, I'd become a keen fan of fantasy anthologies, which were like samplers or tasting menus for different writers - you could call them selection boxes,and Irish / UK readers will know what I mean by that.

FP was where I found imports like Offutt's "Swords Against Darkness" series and DAW's "Year's Best Fantasy" series. I'd already got the first two in Carter's "Flashing Swords" series as UK imprints...

...so the instant I saw the US-import Number 5 I nabbed it.

A bit later, back in Belfast, I found a novel by one of those writers in Queen’s University Bookshop.

It was set in the same world as the short story and though the cover was, er, a less than accurate summation of the contents, those contents made for a fascinating read.

I met that writer twice, at SF conventions in 1985.

Then at a couple more in 1986.

After that came Boskone in 1987...

And the rest is history.

(Pedantic writer note: this has two typos. There's no apostrophe on Authors' - unless it's short for Authors Have A Wedding and I doubt that - and there's an extra O where I don't need it, a first but far from last instance of having my name misspelled in print...)

Happy soon-to-be-38th Anniversary, loved!

[jilyawards]

January

Now Everybody-- (completed, 4.6k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

“He’s a muggleborn too, I think that’s why she likes him,” James says, now talking to no one but himself and the ceiling. “He listens to all the same muggle music, watches films… they probably go do cool muggle things like fairs and refrigerators… ride airplanes…” “Mate, I don’t think you do a refrigerator.” James ignores him, barreling onwards. “Meanwhile, I’m stuck here, basking in the feeling of how soft her skin was on my bloody arm like a fool.”

there's no place like home for the holidays (completed, 36,7k) by @thejilyship. Rated T.

Christmastime is hard. ~Lily~ Lily's life has recently exploded. She has moved twice in the last two months, broken up with a man she had thought she was going to marry, and is currently headed home to go to her sister's Christmas time wedding alone. Even though she and her sister argued over giving Lily a plus one quite explosively. And now she's got an asshole neighbor who basically shoved her down the stairs. ~James~ James has been in love with Marlene McKinnon since he was eleven. She has absolutely no interest in him, and his friends have tried just about everything they can think of to dissuade him from pinning for her. And his parents won't stop setting him up with their friends grandchildren. Because they're old and they think James needs help. What if someone were to assume that the two of them were dating when they're spotted in the airport together? What if they didn't correct them? What if they used their easy chemistry and proximity to make Christmastime that much easier for the both of them?

the road not taken (looks real good now) (completed, 3.2k) by @emmathecasualauthor. Not rated.

He blinks, forcing himself to focus, but it's all there in his mind, like it’s happening again. Or: James sees Lily at a bookshop in muggle London

keep pace (completed, 8.6k) by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Rated T.

“So,” she says after a moment, her voice light, “is this a thing you do? Invite girls to kill themselves on a run after you find them crying. Or am I special?” Sirius laughs. It’s a sharp sound, almost surprised, but it makes her stomach loosen. “You’re special,” he says dryly, finally turning to look at her properly. He watches her for a beat longer than she expects, like he’s searching for something in her face—some answer she doesn’t know how to give. Whatever it is, he seems to find it.

The One Sharp, Tangible Thing (completed, 2.2k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

“It’s horrid for you, you know.” “No worries–I do loads of things that are bad for me,” he smirks. “Oh? Like what?” He falters, the rushing stream of banter getting interrupted by a fork in the river. Maybe she is imagining it, but she sees the words start to form on his lips. Fancying you. 

White Winter Hymnals (completed, 16k) by @tedwardremus. Rated G.

Holiday themed jily snippets from age eleven to adulthood

Afterglow (completed, 1.3k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

A soft silence falls over them, strangely comfortable given the circumstances. She can feel his heartbeat against her forearm, a defiant thump thump thump that serves as a reminder that yes, you are in his bed with his hand over your body and his face unreasonably close to yours.

At Least I'm Gonna Say That I Tried (completed, 5.8k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

“Call me what you want, Evans. I deserve it,” he pants, “But then I’m going to need you to make my Christmas wish come true a few more times because – Merlin– I’ll do anything for it.”

Betting on It (completed, 700 words) by @chierafied. Rated T.

If Lily hadn’t downed those last two tequila shots, she might’ve wondered how she ended up here: squinting at the cards she’d been dealt while sneaking appreciative glances at the very impressive set of abs.

Bad Egg (completed, 1.1k) by @annabtg. Rated G.

Lily's greatest fear lurks on the breakfast table.

Eternal Recurrence (WIP, 15.6k as of 31 Jan 2025) by @girlhoodpostmortem. Not rated.

"This was always going to happen. She’s been dead since the beginning." - The Oresteia A Marauders fic inspired by The Book Thief by Markus Zusak/inspired by a textpost by @pomegranateroot15 on Tumblr.

November/December recs available HERE!