#bantasticbeasts

[marisatomay]

peter “builds star wars legos in his free time” parker pretending like he doesn’t know what AT-ATs are while fighting the avengers at the airport in civil war is very much me when im trying to make like I only enjoy things a perfectly normal reasonable amount

[prongsno]

wednesdays at three thirty

a late bday fic for @jamesandlilyaredead​ <3 (9445 words, read on ao3)

Everyone sees the world in black and white until they meet their soulmate. But James works in a coffee shop, and every time he sees colour there’s an annoying customer there too (AKA a coffee shop and soulmate au fic in one because i have no chill).

“One frozen mocha to go!”

It’s second nature to him now, as quick and easy as breathing. In one swift movement, James grabs hold of the milk carton, ready to pour it into the blender. He hears the door to the cafe open, a chilly breeze ruthlessly following a handful of students who scrabble inside as it begins to rain.

It’s then that it happens. The milk drops to the floor as he stares, perplexed, at the colour of his hand. It’s like the weight of an avalanche crumbles on top of him, an invisible weight pressing hard on his shoulders. Before he even realises, his legs are like jelly and he’s falling.

“James? Are you alright?” a voice asks. 

He feels a hand pressed against his back, the sound of someone’s concerned voice muffled against his ear. He tries to say something, but all he can manage is an intense gasp for air as his legs shake once more.

He can see.

Not that he couldn’t before… but he can see. 

Colours are everywhere, blinding and intense. They’re beautiful, so vibrant that it’s making his head spin.

He’s staring at white tiles, chestnut coloured cabinets. It feels like he’s on fire and, more than anything, he wishes he could stand, to just look around the place to see who is making him like this.

Of course, he’s read the stories like everyone else. Lullabies that dated back long before they even had a name. Fairy-tales of people who, like everyone else, saw the world in a lens, the colour of life squeezed out. There was only one person who could help to retrieve that colour back into your life.

A soulmate.

James blinks, his heart now slowing to a calm, even beat. He breathes in deeply, relishing the peaceful feeling that washes over him. The owner of the hand speaks again and rubs the place between his shoulder blades tentatively, asking if he needs an ambulance.

He shakes his head, finally looking up at Remus.

“Can you stand?” Remus asks, taking hold of James’ shaking hand and pulling him to his feet. He wobbles for a split second and reaches out to grasp hold of the counter with both arms. His fingers grip onto the support for dear life.

Who?

He swallows, a nauseating bubble rippling throughout his intestines and threatening to shoot up his throat. He breathes in, counting to ten. Slow and easy, he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the wooden counter and cautiously glances around cafe.

The colours are dazzling; blues, reds, greens, all different shades and intensities. They're all so vivid and intense that it feels like the ground’s shaking beneath him. The place is heaving with students, all wet due to the unexpected stormy April shower and James tries to look at as many as he can, searching desperately for someone who seems just as unsettled and surprised as him.

Everyone seems normal. How can that be? Colour’s just flown into every crevice of their being… and they don’t care?

There are too many voices, people ordering, grabbing their coffees and other beverages and talking aimlessly with one another. Amidst the chatter and the whirring noises from the coffee machines, the sound of the door opening reaches his ears. A freezing wind enters, the chilly kind that makes the hairs on his arms stand up on edge.

And then, just like that, his world is drained of colour. 

The door closes shut and it’s like time pauses around him.

It’s shattering, to see the colour fade and vanish so brutally and without warning.

He’s moving in an instant, ignoring Remus and his concerned questions which he brushes off with a shake of his head. He’s dodging through the large mass of students, speech failing him as he finally makes it to the door and flings it open. The rain’s pouring down with no mercy and it seems that fate has none either.

The person has vanished. The person, his soulmate.

“James!” Remus is by his side, grabbing his arm softly as he shuts the door. “Are you mad? Your feet are soaked now.”

James can’t speak, he doesn’t know what to say. His throat itches to release a soul-shattering sob; that’s what it feels like, soul-shattering.

He numbly allows Remus to lead him to the staff room, setting him down on his favourite armchair. The cushions sink beneath him and the dull chime of the cedar clock echoes in his head.

“James?” Remus asks again, this time plopping a hot cup of tea into his cold hands.

“It happened, Remus,” he whispers, it’s so painful to speak, like the air has been choked out of his lungs. He’s scared that perhaps it’s all just a dream.

“It?” Remus asks, watching James with a careful gaze. “What was it like?”

James sighs and looks down at his tea, stirring it aimlessly for a few seconds before he takes a small sip. “Unlike anything that’s ever happened before,” he says finally. He lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand through his hair, gripping at the ends.

“The colours were so perfect and then it was gone. They were gone - they just left and took the colour with them.”

“Which colour was the prettiest?”

“Red,” James says in an instant, a small smile creeping onto his face. His eyes brighten, recalling the feel of it. There’s something about that colour, it made him feel warm.

“All of them, Remus. But red… red was intense.”

The two sit in silence for a few moments. James takes cautious sips of his tea whilst Remus sits and watches his every move. The silence is more reassuring than unsettling, but still Remus tries his best.

“James…” The cafe is still horrendously busy and there’s only so much Peter and Sirius can handle on their own. He wrings his hands together, but James is the one to speak first.

“Do you think… do you think that’s it?”

This time James’ voice is back to normal. No hushed whispers, no desperately needed gasps for breath after each word. The only tell-tale sign is his right hand, his fingers still shaking.

There had been millions of accounts of people seeing colour, from all over the world. And for some that had been it, just the one moment and then they were back to the way they had always been. The colours just slowly faded from their memories like it had never happened.

“Well,” Remus starts, unsure, “if they came to the cafe then they must be a student.” he checks his watch, glancing at the time and date, “I mean, it’s a Wednesday. Student for sure.”

“Unless it’s a teacher, that’d be unfortunate.” James mutters, finally feeling like himself again. He smiles, nods his head and allows Remus’ feeble attempts to give him a slither of hope.

He gulps back the rest of his tea, assuring his friend he’s fine to go back to work.

If he’s meant to see them again then he will. And if he doesn’t then, well, he’d just go on as normal. He'd unwillingly let the memory fade away, just like the colour had.

Classes don’t seem to put his mind at ease at all - he spends the hours doodling in the margins of his notebook, not listening at all to the way Mrs McGonagall lectures on about Biology. And when the two hours are finally up, he jogs all the way back to the coffee shop.

Peter looks up in surprise from his spot at the till.

“Alright? Didn’t think you were working today.”

“Nah, I’m not. But - err - thought you could use some help? Thursdays, mate. Everyone needs a coffee on a Thursday.”

Peter smiles, thankful for the sentiment and James drags himself behind the counter, throwing his white apron on like it’s hot coal in his hands.

He glances up every time he hears the door open, but each time no one brings colour in with them. By the end of the four hour shift he’s in an angry mood and ends up getting a chinese on the way home to ease his feelings.

He spends most of Friday doing the same thing, but on more than one occasion he catches Remus’ gaze and tries to act as normal and as aloof as possible.

That’s when he slices his finger with a cake knife, and spends the remainder of his shift with an angry Remus, a paramedic and a first aid kit.

Saturday, though, is a brand new day.

His finger’s been bandaged, the sun is shining and the weather report says it seems like summer is finally in the air with highs of twenty degrees (rather unusual for mid-April, though no one seems to mind).

So, James decides not to worry. The first few times the door opens he lifts his head up out of habit, but he forces himself to stop. It only makes things harder and the only way to make things better is to focus on something he’s good at, and that’s making darn-good coffee. He even starts humming again, dancing behind the counter to Wham’s Jitterbug.

Then the air stops again and he’s struggling to breathe. He’s staring at sunshine yellow walls and a black coffee machine.

With shaking fingers he reaches out to touch the bright yellow strokes of paint, thoroughly amazed. Then he swallows slowly, pauses the machine, and turns around.

It’s pretty busy; everyone wants ice coffees and smoothies so they can sit outside and bask in the warm sun before it disappears. There’s a group of girls nearest to the door, laughing about something James can’t quite make out. He glances at them one by one but none of them act any differently or give off any feeling. He scowls.

Whoever the person is, they have come back.

“Excuse me,” someone huffs by the counter and clicks their fingers at him rudely, forcing him to turn his head.

A student glares up at him, hands on her hips. Her hair’s an intense shade of red and for a second his heart stops.

“Instead of eyeing up girls could you do your job and ask me what I want?”

James rolls his eyes and swears under his breath. He doesn’t need this right now, annoying customers make him angry. Even if said annoying customer is pretty.

And he’s already angry; someone in this cafe right now is his soulmate. And they’ll go, just like last time. And the moment will pass and he’ll go back to the dull grey once again. He’s got minutes, if that.

The woman clears her throat, waiting.

“Alright,” he says, stomping to the counter, “what do you want?”

He doesn’t care that he’s being rude. She was rude first and he’s not in the best of moods right now.

“A medium mango smoothie to go. With only a handful of ice.”

James sighs, walks towards the fridge and looks for the ingredients. He doesn’t even try to hide the smirk on his lips when he notices they’ve ran out of the said fruit.

He turns around with a twirl and tries his hardest to put on a sombre facade. “I’m afraid we’ve run out of mango, terribly sorry about that.”

“Sure you are,” she hums and grabs hold of a menu, drumming her fingernails against the countertop in an annoying beat, “I’ll have…” she trails off, her nails still dancing as she pauses.

“Yes?” James taps his pen against the till, irritated.

“A medium iced coffee then,” she says finally, dropping the menu back onto the counter. “With only a handful-”

“Of ice, got it. And your name?”

“Lily. That’s L-I-L-Y. Not two L’s. Just one.”

He bites his tongue, of course he knows how to spell. How stupid does she think he is?

Remus is on the next till, serving the group of girls who had been by the door. James watches them curiously as he pours the coffee and ice cream into a blender. They’re all acting normal; there’s no spark in their eyes, no sign that they’re experiencing anything. They’re pretty he supposes, but he… he can’t connect.

Would there even be a sign? How can he tell?

His annoying customer clears her throat again and he refrains from rolling his eyes once more. The sooner he works on her damn iced coffee then the sooner she can leave and he’ll be able to try and find them, whoever they were.

A gruelling three minutes later he plonks the beverage down onto the counter.

“That’s £2.35,” his tone is icy and he wishes he’d spat in the stupid beverage as she bites down on the straw and gives it a small sip.

She hands him the exact change without uttering another word, then wraps two serviettes around the plastic cup before picking it up. She narrows her eyes at him and glances at his name tag.

“Thanks James,” she sneers, “great customer service.” Then she’s gone and he couldn’t be any more relieved.

He releases a long, hard breath and looks around the cafe again. The group of girls are leaving, chattering to themselves as Lily lags behind them; the small girl takes tiny steps as they move at a snail's-pace towards the door. The bell chimes and the group and Lily leave the building, a few other students following after her.

He blinks and the colour vanishes with it. James curses and kicks the counter irritably.

Sirius looks over at him in shock and Remus hisses at him to behave. His foot throbs, kicking hadn’t helped at all. And he’s just wasted all his time serving that annoying Lily as his soulmate had just been and gone again, and disappeared right from under his nose.

“So, let me get this straight…” Sirius leans against the table, his long legs stretching out as he cradles a cup of hot chocolate in his hands, “you experienced it and you didn’t tell me? Your best mate?”

James rolls his eyes, mouth curling slightly into a small smile. “It was painful, thank you very much. That much colour to suddenly look at? I had a blinking migraine for a couple of hours afterwards!”

Sirius lets out a thoughtful ‘hmm’ and scratches his chin. “Did you see who it was?”

He shakes his head. “It was too busy. And I had the worst customer too, she was a right bi-”

Remus pokes his head round the door. “Didn’t you notice James almost passed out on the floor? Honestly, I bet his S.M has already clocked on. You weren’t exactly discreet, mate.”

James chucks an empty milk carton and Remus dodges it, laughing like he’s on helium.

“You’re such an arse! It’s painful, okay?”

Sirius sighs dramatically and throws one hand to his head. The other hand reaches out, clutching hard onto James’ shoulder. “But it’s beautiful, right? Beautifully painful?”

“Yeah, go ahead and make fun. I’d like to see how you handle it.”

His friend shrugs a little and balances his teaspoon on his left pinky. “I have,” he says simply.

James chokes on the last few dregs of his hot vimto, catching Remus’ perplexed gaze.

“You have? When?”

Sirius stands there a little awkwardly, thrusting his hands into his jean pockets. “It was ages ago. I  - we were only seven... we didn’t understand it much at the time.”

“Ruddy hell.”

James doesn’t know what’s more shocking - the fact that Sirius has a soulmate somewhere or that he won’t give away any more details about it. He just picks up his leather jacket, throws it over one shoulder and glances at James’ and Remus’ still surprised faces with another shrug.

“Are we running a coffee shop or what?”

He hates that he chose Biology, of all the sciences, to study at university. He’s already juggling football into the mix and classes start to interfere with his work. He finds he spends more time in the small staff room of the cafe than at the library or at Hogwarts Student’s Union. Plus, he can get free drinks here and put his feet up on the table.

That’s exactly what he’s doing when there’s a knock on the door of the break room.

“Mate,” Sirius knocks again, “I need back up. Remus has class.”

James folds down the corner of his page (anyone who claims they don’t do that is lying), puts his pen behind his ear and zips up his jeans (don’t ask). He’s checking his phone messages as he props the door open with his waist, an apology on his lips as he sets into the cafe.

He blinks and then he’s staring at that annoying customer he had the other day. She’s got red hair and she’s wearing a light brown top as she stares down at the menu. She glances up at the sound of the door and his stomach gives a little jolt when he notices her forest green eyes.

He’s struggling to breathe again, hands shaking as he runs his fingers through his messy hair.

His soulmate’s here and of course Annoying Lily has to ruin it all over again.

“Ah, if it isn’t Barista Of The Year,” she smirks.

Any nice thought is instantly replaced with every and any cuss word he can think of on the spot. He rolls his eyes, pulls down at his apron and glares at Sirius who’s taking her order.

“Be nice, mate, she’s a customer!” Sirius grins, “I’m sorry about Grumpy over there,” he jerks his thumb towards James, who’s now angrily ripping up a cardboard box, “he hates Wednesdays.”

He pulls his eyes away as he hears Lily give out a little laugh, glancing around to see if he can spot his soulmate. There’s about thirteen people and James swears under his breath.

“Make a cherry white hot chocolate for Lily, will ya?” Sirius throws him a bottle of water and James catches it swiftly with one hand.

Lily looks smugly at him, tapping her fingers against the counter expectantly. He’s just turned around, grabbing hold of the semi skimmed milk with a death grip, when he hears her clear her throat a little.

“I wanted to apologise for the other day,” she says with reluctance when Sirius coughs loudly, “I wasn’t in the best of moods and I took it out on you. So - sorry, I guess.”

“Isn’t that nice, mate?” James rolls his eyes again when Sirius claps a hand on his back. “Do you have anything to say back?”

He glances over his shoulder and gives Lily the stinkeye. “Apology accepted.”

She’s huffing, cheeks a little pink as she shakes her head, muttering out an ‘unbelievable’. He only turns around once her hot chocolate is made and he gives her a sheepish grin as he places it in front of her.

“I’m sorry too. I guess.”

Sirius snorts as he takes the order of the next customer. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? You’re lucky Remus isn’t here. He’d have you drawn and quartered for being rude to a customer.”

“I’ve got a few more things on my mind right now,” he murmurs quietly, cleaning up a little spillage with a tea towel.

“They’re here? Right now?” Sirius lifts his head in a very inconspicuous manner, eyes raking over each customer like he's in the mafia.

“Something wrong?” Lily asks as she sips at her drink.

“Hey, Lils. You know anyone in here?”

At Sirius’ question she turns around to look. “No one seems familiar. Why?”

“Well James -”

“No reason,” James stomps on Sirius’ foot, instantly silencing him.

“No reason,” Sirius echoes.

She hums, sliding over the exact change for her beverage before sitting down at one of the tables.

James glances around the cafe again.

Apart from Lily, there's a group of three girls over in the corner giggling at a laptop, a guy with a beard who's talking animatedly on his phone, two girls and a guy all collectively on their phones as they sit together (they’ve hardly spoken at all since they arrived) and a guy who must be about fifty five talking to a woman of similar age. Plus another five or so who aren’t even facing him.

He grimaces and scribbles down everyone's appearances in the margins of his notepad. This time he's not going to give up as easily.

After an hour the colour is starting to get too much to handle, he’s got a head-splitting migraine.

“I can’t,” he whispers to Sirius and shakes his head. He’s already threading his arms through his jacket. “I need to get out. Fresh air.”

It’s almost a relief to see the different shades of grey when he steps out onto the street. It’s empowering to know that, this time, he’s the one who’s taken the colour away. He lets out a sigh and kicks at an empty bottle on the road.

He doesn’t look back.

It’s Peter who notices the pattern first.

Wednesdays at three thirty, give or take a few minutes. Every Wednesday. There’s quite a number of regulars but, unfortunately for him, Lily is always showing up too.

“You make good coffee,” she shrugs the next time he sees her.

And the time after that Remus is there. It turns out the two share a class together and they spend hours talking about their essay that’s due in on Friday.

Her hair is always the first thing he notices, dangerously bold and enticing. He supposes she’s not so bad once you get to know her.

A couple of weeks later, Lily asks if James can read over her essay (apparently some people actually have their work checked, which is news for him) and he says yes in a heartbeat.

“Are you sure?” she asks as she places her laptop on a table close to the window.

James takes off his apron and throws it over the back of the chair. It’s a pointless question, since she’s already asked him the same thing about twenty times.

“Totally. But I’m a sucker for the oxford comma. Just a forewarning.”

She’s rolling her eyes as she takes out her purse. “What do you want to drink? It’s on me.”

He peels his eyes away from the screen and squints up at the menu. There’s no Remus today and that leaves Peter and Sirius behind the counter. The two snicker and goof around, juggling oranges and balancing milk lids on their noses.

“I’ll have a triple, venti, half sweet, non-fat caramel macchiato. Extra hot,” he says.

“Aren’t they a bugger to make?”

“The worst.”

“I’m about eighty percent sure Sirius spat in that,” she says when she places the steaming mug on the table next to him five minutes later.

He drinks it anyways (who would have thought such an obnoxious and hipster drink would actually taste pretty good?) and spends the remainder of the day sitting next to Lily. Her essay is impeccable, of course, and each time their arms brush against each other he gets a jolt in his stomach.

Having her at the cafe makes it a lot harder for James to liaise and spy on the other customers. Especially when she and Sirius bond over their love for marmite (how disgusting) during her next visit.

For some reason she’s eating toast and Sirius just blinks at her. “Is that marmite?”

The rest is history and she spends most of her visit that day cooped up on one of the high chairs. They chatter together about their marmite experiences for what seems like hours.

It’s becoming A Problem.

James slowly starts to notice how pretty her smile is. She always spends a good fifteen minutes or so deciding what on earth to order and, more often than not, changes her mind about three times.

On one occasion he asks her, “What do you want? What do you want?” to which she replies back with an exasperated grimace, “It’s not that simple,” then the two get matching, exhilarated grins as they both profess their love for The Notebook.

He’s almost used to seeing the colour so much now but a part of him dares to normalise the feeling, lest it vanish as quick as a heartbeat.

And it’s Wednesday again when a downpour brings in a mass of students.

Lily, yellow and blue spotted umbrella in her hand, is, of course, amidst the thrall. James isn’t even that surprised to see her anymore. Sirius is busy serving another customer, so he gives her a bright smile (which he realises isn’t actually that hard to do) and asks her what she wants.

“I’ll have a Pumpkin Spiced Latte.”

“One of those are you?” he asks, giving Lily a sly smirk as he starts to jot down her order.

“It’s good. Have you never tried it?”

He shakes his head. “Peter’s addicted to it, he made me try it once. Far too sweet,” he says with a grimace.

“That’s what makes it so delicious.”

He doesn’t understand how someone can have such strange taste buds - to think marmite, PSLs and white hot chocolates are all under the denomination of ‘delicious’. But hey - everyone has their own opinions, right? Even if it’s the wrong one.

He’s just turning around, ready to start making her drink when she sucks in a breath. He pauses instantly, already knowing by now what that little intake of breath means.

“What are you wanting to change it to?”

He can’t help but give her an amused smile, watching as she glares at the menu. Biting her chipped nails, fingers drumming against the counter-top. She looks like this is the worst decision she’s ever made.

“I can’t decide between a Pumpkin Spiced Latte or a Pumpkin Spiced Frapp.”

He blinks, “Well. One’s hot - you see - and the other’s cold.”

“Wow, thanks for that. I’d never have guessed.”

She’s smirking and she’s got such a contagious smile, he can feel his lips mirroring hers in seconds. She takes another three minutes before she slaps a fiver onto the counter. “A cold one. I’ll be daring.”

When he places the drink on the counter next to her, he rakes his eyes over the customers behind her. The same group of girls, the same elderly couple, the same bearded man. It has to be one of them.

He’s served them all before, each are nice and unique in character but it’s so hard to figure out which one it is. He’s even tried small talk, but every time he makes it personal they all shrink away. It seems like Lily is the only one in the cafe who ever bothers to talk. And, even then, it’s Sirius who she’s closer too.

He gets a message, phone buzzing against his thigh as he hands over Lily’s change.

Serious to Barista Of The Year (15:37) : stop flirting with customers ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“I was not flirting.”

“You know,” Sirius, who’s lounging across one of the sofas with a history book pulled over his face, lets out a small sigh, “I didn’t believe you the first five times, so -”

“I’m only saying it so you know I’m telling the truth!”

Only now does Sirius peel the book away from his face. “Mate. Come on.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You are allowed to, you know,”

“I know I’m allowed to,” James scowls.

“Do you?” Sirius swings his legs onto the floor, his socks have dozens of little hamburgers all over them. “I mean… I know you’re - well - a romantic but having a soulmate doesn’t mean anything.”

“What about you?”

Sirius scratches his chin, refusing to meet his gaze. “What about me?” his voice is gruff.

“You never told me, your best mate, that you saw colour when you were seven. Seven!”

He merely shrugs. “I was seven.”

“Yeah. That’s what I mean. Do you still-”

Sirius shakes his head. “Nah, haven’t for ages.”

“What was it like?”

There’s a small period of silence.

Sirius runs a hand through his hair, then he takes a swig of water and flings the now empty bottle up into the air. He catches it with one hand.

“It felt - God, I dunno - natural? We had no idea what it meant, how could we? We were friends, that was it.”

James gets goosebumps.  

“What happened?”

“With a swine of a mother like mine?” he snorts, “What didn’t happen. I never saw her again.”

“You could try finding her-”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Half the female population probably have the same name.”

“Jane.”

“No.”

“Sarah?”

“No. Can you stop guessing now?”

“Depends, will you tell me her name?”

Sirius rolls his eyes, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “Fine. Mary.”

James drums his fingers against the armrest of his chair. “I suppose it is quite a common name. There’s Mary Berry, Mary Poppins-”

“Mary, Queen of Scots.” Sirius adds, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “My point is there’s a heck ton of Mary’s out there. And after a while you get, well - you know.”

The annoying thing is that, even though Sirius hadn’t exactly said much, he did know.

It’s such a strange feeling, one you can’t really put into words. James had spent hours agonising over who it was, tearing himself apart to the point where he couldn’t sleep. And for Sirius to know her and to have gone through life hearing that name on people's lips, he doesn’t know how he can handle it.

It’s a gift, but one that eats away at your insides until it’s all but consumed you. Colour was something James desperately yearned for and whoever they were had the power to give it to them. Just like that, you’re made for each other.

He shuffles on his seat, fingers fluttering to itch at his backside (he does this sometimes when he’s nervous). Green emerald eyes flicker on and off in his mind, making his heart do cartwheels.

There were hundreds, thousands, of cases where people married someone who wasn’t their soulmate. You give up the gift, so to speak. Does colour really mean that much to you when you’ve got someone you love and who loves you back?

Sirius mentions something about needing to take a dump and waddles out, not before slapping the back of his neck with a tea towel. James flips him off and Sirius, like he has eyes in the back of his head, does one casually back.

James is left alone with just his thoughts. Thoughts of Lily Evans.

The next time she comes into the coffee shop she’s wearing a bright yellow anorak and James can’t help but think of sunshine, daisies and lemons.

She flashes him a smile, cheeks pink, and asks him how he is.

He doesn’t tell her how pretty she looks today, though the words are desperately wanting to run off his tongue and slide out of his mouth like jelly. He doesn’t say how happy he is to see her - how sometimes the prospect of a soulmate, his soulmate, is replaced with pictures of her.

“Not bad,” he bites, fumbling with the lid of a teapot, “you?”

“Better with the prospect of coffee. Can I get an americano, please?”

James makes a grab for a cup. “You do know how strong this stuff is, right?”

She dismisses his cautious gaze with a wave of her hand. “I’ll add four sugars, it’s fine.”

“You know what another name for an americano is, Evans?” Sirius asks, grinning like the cheshire cat as he leans against the counters.

“Do I want to know?”

“A Long Black. I kid you not.”

Lily purses her lips. “On second thought, I’ll have a latte.”

“Don't fancy drinking a Long Black?” Sirius asks, already walking off to serve another customer before Lily can say anything back.

“You can have a Long Black if you want,” James smirks, dodging Lily’s hand that goes up to swipe at him, “I won’t judge.”

“A latte is better. Thanks though. But I think americano’s have been ruined for me now, permanently.”

He doesn’t know why, but he takes his time making the drink. He wants it to be perfect and immaculate, the best latte she’s ever had before. So, when she brings it to her lips he doesn’t feel like he shouldn’t be watching her - he just wants to know how she likes the drink. For science.

“It’s really good. You’re really good.”

“You’ve got - err - a,” he gestures to his own lips, staring at her frothy milk moustache. Her hands fly up to her face immediately, and she spends a good two minutes scrubbing her entire face with a serviette before emerging out of it with a red, mortified face.

“Sorry. How embarrassing.”

Her smile has to be the sweetest thing he’s ever encountered. It makes him weak in his knees. “It’s cute,” he drops his own tea, hot water spilling onto his arms and over the counter, “bugger. I mean, it’s fine. Milk moustaches are cute, I mean.”

She smiles, “You’re sweet,” her cheeks are still crimson. “I mean, my friend would have just taken pictures. I love her to bits but, you didn’t even - didn’t laugh is what I’m trying to say.”

“I almost did.”

Then he laughs and he has to press a hand to his lips to stop himself.

She’s got constellations in her eyes, he could stare at her for hours and at each passing minute he'd find something new to marvel at. She’s a breathtaking view. Her phone vibrates against her mug and the two jump. She grabs for it, avoiding his eyes as she stutters out a hello.

“Mary! Sorry. I’ll be there in a sec, on my way,” she ends the call with a sigh and when she glances back up at him he has the strongest urge to kiss her.

“Sorry, I have to go,” she says, downing the rest of her latte. She plops the empty cup into his hands, swings her bag over her shoulders but doesn’t move an inch.

He should say something.

He should ask her if she’s okay with seeing in black and white for the rest of her life. Ask if she’s okay being with someone like him - someone who can’t give her colour. She bites her lip, ready to say something when Sirius barges past with a tray full of dirty cups and plates.

His feet falter when he glances at the two of them. “Sorry, did I just ruin a moment?”

James’ cheeks burn and Lily just clears her throat. “No. I have to meet Mary, my- uh - friend. Um. See you boys later.”

She turns around, almost running into the bearded regular man. She murmurs out an apology and has to wait as the old regular couple walk in front of her. Together the three of them leave the shop, vanishing along with the surges of colour.

James takes a shaky step back, stepping on Sirius’ toes.

“Watch it!”

“It’s them,” he says, breathing out heavily, muttering the phrase over and over again, “it has to be either the old guy or the lady. It’s official - I’m a marriage wrecker.”

“You don’t have to marry them. There’s no contract.”

“I know. But, Lily, she,” James groans and shakes a hand through his hair.

“She...?”

James blinks. She’s everything he’s ever wanted. “Er… she has a friend called Mary, didn’t you know?”

“I’ve met countless Mary’s. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

Is she in prison for murder? Did Walburga Black kill Sirius’s soulmate? That seems to be the only plausible explanation at the moment. It would explain why Sirius hasn’t met Mary since whatever happened happened.

He’s grabbing onto a bag of carrots when he gets that thought and he looks around the shop suspiciously. He’s only met Walburga a few times; the last being when Sirius, sporting his own bloody and broken nose, dislocated Orion Black’s jaw.

Barista Of The Year to Serious (17:40): shall i buy hummus

Serious has changed his nickname to Hummus Lover 2k19

Hummus Lover 2k19 to Barista Of The Year (17:41): what are u after

Barista Of The Year to Hummus Lover 2k19 (17:43): is ur mum in prison???

Hummus Lover 2k19 to Barista Of The Year (17:45): ….. i wish

He’s halfway through the doors of Tesco Extra, googling ‘why is my friend a dumbass’ when he bumps into someone and his phone drops to the floor.

“Sorry!”

“It’s fine!”

He’s already bending down, fingers reaching out to grip onto his mobile when he realises whose voice it is.

“Lily!”

It’s weird seeing her out of the cafe, without a counter separating them.

She’s smaller than he remembers and he’s actually able to see her shoes, which is extremely weird. She’s wearing black worn out dolly shoes, her hair wild and the shade of crisp red and orange leaves signalling the first sign of autumn.

Her cheeks are rosy. “James! Hi.”

A car passes by, splashing murky water all over his legs. “I bought carrots, celery and hummus.” He waves the bag he’s carrying.

She gives him a soft smile and pulls on her jacket. “I’m going to buy marmite.”

“Disgraceful.”

“How can you dislike it when you’ve not even had it before?”

“Ah - but how long is a piece of string, Lily?”

“However long it is when you buy it.”  

He’s grinning and she’s smiling back, making his heart flutter and quiver.

Seeing her with the sunset behind her, lighting up her hair like she’s a part of the sky, makes him wonder why he was even so determined to find his soulmate in the first place. She’s quickly become part of his life, his routine and he never wants it to end.

His phone makes a PING sound and he forces himself to look away from her.

Hummus Lover 2k19 has changed your nickname to I Love You Bro

Hummus Lover 2k19 has changed his nickname to Please Love Me

Please Love Me to I Love You Bro (18:09): how upset would u be if i hypothetically just broke your teapot. Hypothetically

Please Love Me to I Love You Bro (18:09): btw whats that tasty thing your mum gets sometimes? not jalebi, the other one I Love You Bro to Please Love Me (18:10): …. gulab jamun also ??? what the frick sirius?? omw

He sighs and plops his phone into his shopping bag. “Hey, Lily. I got to go, Sirius is creating havoc at our flat -”

“Say no more,” she laughs, “see you later?”

“Definitely.”

It’s only when she’s gone into the shop, and he’s half way down the road, that he glances at the passing cars and realises he’s looking at dull grey.

He’s blinking, stopping dead in his tracks. Heart pounding a trillion beats per second against his chest. It hurts so much.

No no no no no.

He swishes around, almost toppling over a woman who glares and tuts at him before stomping away.

Was he hallucinating?

“Are you seriously asking me this?”

Sirius and James are on a fifteen minute break. They’re lying on the sofas in the staff room, spending their free time balancing water bottles on their foreheads.

“Yes.”

Sirius sighs, “No. I have never thought I was seeing colour when I wasn’t. Yes, I think you’re a moron.”

“I didn’t -”

“You're making up excuses, you knob. You know. You’ve been a blithering idiot ever since she set foot in the cafe.”

“All I'm saying is that there were a lot of people on that street,”

Sirius moves slightly and the bottle falls dramatically to the floor. “I know the Old Age Pensioner’s Zumba Class finished around six, perhaps it is the old lady with the moustache.”

Remus barges in, head ducking just in time as a water bottle flies across the room.

“What are two you doing in here? And why does it stink so bad?”

“Past your bedtime is it, Remus?” Sirius asks as he pulls James into a headlock.

“It’s past three thirty and it’s Wednesday.” Remus sends a curious glance in James’ direction, who immediately stuffs a cushion over his face. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Lily. Or it’s that old lady who grabbed my arse the other day, you know the one who always orders filter coffee and reeks of cotton balls,” says Sirius with a grin.

Remus leans against the door, shaking his head in amusement. “Well the old lady’s here right now. Why don’t you go and check, James?”

James gulps, feeling hot and sweaty even though he’s only wearing a t shirt and jeans. Sirius drags him to his feet and pushes him towards the door.

There’s not even a hint of colour. And no Lily Evans.

Panicking, he seizes hold of the closest thing, waving it in Remus’s face. “Look see. This is green.”

“That’s an egg, mate. Eggs aren’t green.”

“Dr Seuss would tell you otherwise. And how would you know, Remus? No offence.”

“But I do,” Sirius grabs for the egg, it twirls out of James’s hands and falls with a crack on the floor.

“I can’t believe you didn’t realise,” Peter tuts as cleans up the egg with a couple of cloths, “she’s been coming here for, how long? It feels like forever?”

“You looked like you were sea-sick each and every time. I never knew someone could get so affected by it.” Sirius muses, albeit smiling a little sadly as he pats James’s shoulder.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Maybe she’s just running late?” Remus glances at his watch, it’s almost four by now. Lily has never been late, not once. Dead on Wednesdays at three thirty (minus the Saturday when he first met her). James groans, he's such an idiot.

“Or maybe she got scared when she realised it’s James.”

A customer comes towards the counter and Peter takes one for the team, jogging towards them with a bright smile on his face.

“This is Lily we’re talking about,” Sirius shakes his head with a lopsided grin, “she's obviously crazy about him.”

“Well I don't see her. So I guess your premonition is wrong.”

It’s exactly what James was scared about ever since this whole mess started.

The colour dissolving, squeezed out of his life like water in a sponge, and knowing who it is makes it all the more unbearable. That freaking Lily Evans (the annoying customer turned tolerable acquaintance turned low-key crush turned soulmate) was it all along.

Only one good thing seems to come out of this mess, and that’s that he’s finally able to pay more attention to his classes - and actually submits his latest assignment in on time instead of seven hours later like his last one.

McGonagall has to pull him to one side after a lecture, asking him if anything is wrong.

There’s a hole in his heart, as cliche as it sounds, and the whole damn thing’s like ecstasy. He’s got no idea how Sirius can even manage, because now it’s been in his system he’s desperately wanting it all again.

Two weeks quickly become four and James longs to see her again.

So, at the first opportunity he gets, he taps in Sirius’s code on his phone (the same four digits he has for everything - even his bank code) and has only just opened up his contacts when he hears the sound of biker boots against the hardwood floor.

“Is there a reason why you’re using my phone?”  

James Potter looks like a thief in the dead of night. “No. Hah! What - oh, this is your phone? I had no idea.”

Sirius crosses his arms. “No reason why you’re scrolling like a mad man through my L contacts either, eh?” he says with a winks and pops a strawberry into his mouth. James lets out a dejected sigh.

“I don’t have Lily’s number. Sorry.”

“You both joined the freaking Marmite society,”

“Rightly so, it needs more love.”

“And you don’t even have her number?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

Realisation dawns upon him, a glorious and ethereal light bulb flickering on inside his head. He glances up, a smile pulling on his lips. “You both joined the Marmite society.”

Sirius looks uncomfortable. “Yes… but you hate marmite.”

“I love it. Best damned thing since sliced bread.”

“You'll hate it. We only joined so we could get the free jar, but meetings include eating marmite toast so it's not exactly your cup of tea.”

“I'm going to that meeting, you can't stop fate.”

No matter how many times Sirius tries to talk him out of it, James’ mind is set. It’s a brilliant plan.

“It’s an awful plan,” Sirius says for the twentieth time, “we don’t even know if she’s going to be there.”

The words fall short on deaf ears as the two of them make their way to the mini meeting room, tucked away in the far corners of the oldest part of The Hogwarts Students Union. The strange society is made up of about twelve people and, he’s remaining optimistic, Lily’s not there yet.

Marlene McKinnon, a mature, final year Law student, seems to be in charge of the whole society, as she stands about by the toaster with a pack of bread and ten jars of marmite surrounding her.

“You guys just sit and eat toast on marmite?” James hisses as Sirius shuts the door and makes his way to three people who are sat on the nearest couch.

“I did try to tell you.”

Frank Longbottom introduces himself to James, and the first thing he says is that he’s gone through ten jars of marmite so far during his lifetime. Luckily the door opens, stopping all further conversation which involves James having to lie about loving marmite.

Luckily the door opens and colour crystallises before his very eyes as Lily Evans comes barging into the room.

She stops, eyes immediately drawing to James and Sirius who both give her a small, guilty wave. She bites her lip, hand reaching for her bag strap which she squeezes hard once. Then, like she’s lost a battle she knows she can’t win, stomps towards the sofa before plopping down opposite him.

Her hair’s the shade of cinnamon sticks and her green eyes sparkle. Sirius waggles his eyebrows when she throws one leg over the other and leans forwards to them, a smirk on her bright red lips.

“I didn’t know you liked marmite, James.”

His throat’s dry. “Not like. I love it.”

“Every marmite lover is welcome!” Marlene places two plates full of marmite-spread toast in front of them and James has to gulp down a retch. “As our newest society member, you can take the first bite.”

He's got thirteen sets of eyes on him and Sirius has to stuff the sleeve of his leather jacket in his face to stop himself from sniggering. Lily watches him with a small expectant smile. It makes his stupid heart flutter and before he knows it he's grabbing at the toast and stuffing it into his mouth.

It's disgusting, so salty on his tongue that his eyes start to water. But no one else seems to notice, they're all too busy grabbing the toast like vultures to notice, and it’s only Lily’s eyes which still hang onto him and she cocks her head a little to the side. He must look a right state, with the taste of rotten garbage in his mouth and tears streaming down his face because she smiles.

He's never going to get used to it; it's euphoric, a tingling sensation all the way from his head to his fingertips.

“Alright?” Sirius asks.

Emmeline Vance produces a jar of vegemite from her bag and, as a society, they collectively decide to hold a tasting session during their next meeting. Dorcas Meadows hands everyone a Marmite Soc t shirt and, thanks to Bellamy Blake (who made sure they printed out more t shirts in the high hopes that the society would grow), James is given one too.

“I'm in love,” he whispers. Because, crap, he really thinks he is.

Staring at green eyes, seeing Lily’s red lips curve and her hair, like cherries, roses and the setting sun. Sirius shuffles besides him and James is only vaguely aware of murmuring voices around the room.

There’s a tap on his shoulder, the meeting’s over.

He just catches a brief glimpse of Lily’s red cardigan swishing out of the door before he’s springing to his feet, grabbing hold of his bag and telling Sirius, whose white t shirt and dark blue denim jeans are now a dull grey, that he’ll meet him later. He doesn’t even wait for a response.

His heart’s pounding, a dull but excited and throbbing ache that shoots up from his toes like pins and needles.

James has never felt anything like this, the intense desperation - eating him up and consuming him. He pushes past a group of students, a sorry tangling between his lips before he’s tripping over a backpack (honestly- who leaves their bags sprawled out like that?) and flying out onto the floor.

“What are you like, honestly.”

He knows that voice, and a surge of colour comes floating with it. It’s happened so many times now, the change not quite instant but more like paint sweeping onto a canvas - bringing everything to life.

His eyes flutter open, then closed.

Lily is standing above him, grinning, a hand on her hip as she shakes her head and sighs. Then she’s reaching out her hand and she’s the first sweet sounding note of an entrancing melody, just one small trickle of spine tingling laughter and he’s floating.

He realises this is the first time he’s ever touched her hand and he grips onto her that little bit tighter as she pulls him off the floor.

“Alright?” she asks when his feet have hit the ground.

Now that he’s found her, he’s not exactly sure what he should say. Words fail him, not for the first time, and somehow he feels ten times smaller under her intense gaze.

“Fantastic. Yourself?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Oh,” he says, immediately bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair.

She kicks the bag out of way, sniffs and wipes her nose with a tissue. It’s flu season and he hates being ill (almost as much as he hates marmite) but the prospect of it doesn’t seem too bad when she’s here in front of him. Red, runny nose and all.

She sets off walking and his feet follow - like she’s the biggest flame or source of light and he’s just a moth, so entranced that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He loves seeing in colour but there’s something about her, the way she stands out like paint pastels on a plain piece of paper.

“I err -” he clears his throat and itches his nose, “how have you been?”

“Busy.”

She stops at the small cafe located on the first floor, Puddifoot's, and asks for an Earl Grey tea. When her hands are sprawled around the take out cup, savouring the heat that flows through her fingers, and she’s sipping at the hot beverage she gives him another look.

“Classes were giving me hell so my friend, Mary, and I decided it’d be better if we spent our time here. Her boyfriend always has early lectures so he saves us seats when it’s busy.”

James nods, “What’s the coffee like here?”

“Disgusting,” she grins, a slight blush on her cheeks, “but it’s cheap and convenient.”

“You even have a loyalty card with us, this is treachery.”

“Yeah, but I still need five more drinks before I get one free,” she laughs and his heart soars.

They set off walking out of the students union, towards a plethora of wild flowers scattered over overgrown grass, a couple of wooden benches knotted into the greenery. She plops down onto one of the benches, sighing happily. She reaches into her bag to grab some torn bread, throwing it into the pond facing them.

There’s only one duck in there, which the students of Hogwarts University quickly nicknamed The Giant Duck as it’s abnormally larger than the average british duck.

He takes a deep breath and plunges into the unknown, of what he really wants to say.

“I, err, I thought you might have been - well - avoiding me.”

“To be honest, I thought I was too. That and this cold has been a nuisance.”

“Oh,” he scratches his nose and stuffs his hands into his jacket, “you should get some lemsip.”

“I wanted to, but apparently you have to be sixteen and over to buy it and I forgot my passport so the cashier wouldn’t let me buy it.”

“I could get it for you-”

She shakes her head, “Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s like, what, three pounds? I honestly don’t mind.”

He’s already standing up, sputtering that her health is the most important thing when she grabs hold of his arm. He pauses, frozen.

She sighs, “Look. I don’t want anything to be, uh, awkward between us. Okay?”

He stops, numbly allowing her to pull him back down on the bench. Their legs brush against each other but she doesn’t move and inch. “Why would it be awkward?”

“I thought you knew.”

His heart skips a beat and he chokes. “What? You… you knew?”

She smiles, biting her lip to stop herself from grinning. “Err yeah.”

“Since when?” his head’s woozy, fingers shaking.

“Since the beginning,” her voice falters slightly, “that day I panicked and heard Remus calling your name. And I fled. Then on the Saturday I was, well, curious?” Only now does she turn to look at him, staring deep into his eyes. He's transfixed. “I only realised once I'd left that your name was the same.”

“But you kept coming.”

“Can you blame me?” she laughs and he feels ablaze.

“Guess not,” he shrugs, “I don't think anyone has enough willpower to ignore it.”

“Yeah,” she takes a sip from her tea, “and I thought you knew, I swear. But then at Tesco you didn't say anything and I realised you didn't. I panicked, that's why I didn't come back, partly. Sorry. You must hate me.”

“I could never.”

She looks so uncomfortable and he's helpless.

He wants to reach out for her hand and never let go. Like she hears his thoughts, she scrunches her fist into her pocket.

“The thing is… I made a promise to myself at a young age that if I ever did see colour I wouldn’t let it control me.”

The Giant Duck quacks loudly and James, who’s been sat on the edge of his seat, waiting anxiously for her to speak, jumps at the sound. She grins, blowing her nose again.

“I want to be able to make my own choices, James. And not be influenced.”

“Okay,” he blinks.

“So I decided I needed to take a break from it all.”

“If you err, if you don't mind me saying,” he pauses, waiting for her nod to continue, “you're saying you don't want it to be in control but it looks like you're letting it.”

“I dont-”

“Running away from it, even if you don’t want it, isn't that just fear?”

“It’s not exactly that simple,” she says.

“I know it’s not,” he gulps, a never ending shiver running up and down his spine. He’s trembling. “But, aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

The sun glows, and, under the deep orange rays she looks ten million times more radiant. He doesn’t care about cliché, he doesn’t care about anything else - only her.

She doesn’t want the colour, the myth of soulmates influencing and breathing down heavily on them. She smiles at him in the moment, moving forward, reaching out her hand so their fingers thread around each other.

And then she’s blinking, inching just that little bit closer towards him. She’s been chewing gum, he can smell peppermint as she breathes out and his eyes flutter closed in seconds.

Even with his eyes shut tight, he can still see colour. It’s more intense and vibrant than he’s ever known it, and he feels her lips place a chaste kiss on his.

It’s red and green, bursting into fireworks and butterflies alike, making his toes curl. He knows she’s feeling the same way, because she shivers against his touch and, when she rests her forehead against his and he has the strength to open his eyes again, she looks just as mesmerised.

He’s never felt more alive.

[gin-draws]

    "don't let the no-majs get you down"  Modern Credence Barebone for @brooklynbrooklyn 

 ✨ Commission Info✨ 

[padfootdidit]

shoutout to my main gal lily evans who can drink james potter under the table without even getting drunk

[gxldentrio]

Fire and Smoke (Talk Me Down)

James is determined to stay away from short, freckled redheads. Lily, having had enough drama for a lifetime, is equally resolved to avoid dark-haired troublemakers. But he rarely does what he ought, and she is too stubborn for her own good. It should be an interesting year.

The ‘read more’ links will send you to the full story.

Chapter Twelve or Fire and Smoke

Lily Evans wasn’t nice, at least not where James Potter was concerned. With her, James never knew where he stood. She was kind, yes, and probably smarter than anyone else he knew, but she could also be vindictive, vicious and cold as ice. Lily Evans was a human paradox and so there really was no way James could know what the hell was going on inside his heart.

(Maybe he did, and just wasn’t ready to admit it to himself. Whatever.)

What James did know was that Lily’s laugh made everything seem quieter, calmer, slower, which in reality didn’t make any sense, because she was manic, erratic and potentially insane, he suspected. It was pretty perfect, to be honest. After all, what James needed was excitement and enthusiasm. Someone who’d make his heart beat a little faster, someone who’d light a fire in his chest. He always acted like an idiot around her, but how could he not? She always made him trip over himself, speak before he managed to figure out what he wanted to say..

Lily wasn’t nice. James thought nice was overrated anyway, and that was where things got tricky. Because it wasn’t like James didn’t like Susan. He actually really did, which was why he felt so awful about the whole situation.

Read More (AO3 // FFN)

[therhiannonway-blog]

Being at University

I’ve been at uni for almost a month now and, so far, so good. Whilst I don’t feel completely settled or could say for certainty that the people I am spending time with right now will be the people I am still hanging out with by the end of the year, I am happy. 

My flatmates are all lovely and we’ve had a movie night and a few games nights and are currently planning a ‘flat olympics’. The latter will probably end with us bleeding on the floor but we’re still excited. There’s six of us and although there’s only ever been five at one time in the kitchen, we all get on and they’re lovely people. 

As for my course mates, I’ve settled into a group of five (including me) girls who are all absolutely amazing. My whole life I’ve struggled to find a girl group I actually feel comfortable in and, finally, I think I’ve found it. We don’t have everything in common but we share the same basic values, interests and sense of humour and we’ve been able to hang out outside the lecture hall and seminars. The only annoying thing is that three out of the four don’t live in the student village which means organisation is a necessity, otherwise we won’t end up spending time together. 

And, well, for friends who I don’t live or study with, I’m doing okay. Essentially I spend time with two different groups, one of whom developed out of a group chat before university and one of whom I found when I arrived. Both are fun and easy going and although I’m not at my most laid back with them, which is just down to who I am as a person, I do enjoy my time with them and I know they’re a good laugh. 

So, really, I can’t complain about the social side. 

Course wise, English is proving to be both exactly what I expected and not at all what I expected. There is just as much reading and writing as I thought, yet the lectures and seminars follow different formats to what I expected. 

So far we’ve read ‘The Turn of the Screw’ and ‘Pamela’ (both of which I will be writing reviews for here) and next week’s book is ‘Jane Eyre’. A novel a week used to be easy for me because I’d go through about four but, now, it’s a lot harder. I don’t know if it’s because I have more going on or because I’m not choosing the books or what - whatever it is, it’s a struggle. To be fair to myself, both ‘The Turn of the Screw’ and ‘Pamela’ are tedious texts full of casual sexism and Victorian values. Luckily, ‘Jane Eyre’ is much more enjoyable and I think it will be easier to make my way through. 

On the other side of the course is Reading English which is the study of poetry and close reading. For this module I had to spend £28 on a big, fat copy of the ‘Norton Anthology of Poetry’ which is proving to be a pain for my shoulders but certainly necessary. We’ve looked at work by John Donne, William Shakespeare, Philip Sidney, Philip Larkin and William Blake (I’m hoping we’ll at least glance at some female poets during the course...) and it is interesting to study even though the skills I’m using are no more complex than the ones needed and taught at A Level. 

My seminar group for Reading English is the only part of my week I really don’t look forward to. The tutor seems to have just graduated and can’t seem to lead the group, whilst the group itself is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I’ve been that annoying person before who is the only one to ever contribute anything, but now I am at university it’s become annoying for myself because I was expecting debate and discussion and, here I am, the only one offering any thoughts. I’m holding out hope though, waiting for everyone to become comfortable enough to be willing to discuss what we’re paying over nine grand a year to discuss.

I found out when I arrived that I had indeed achieved a place on the CELTA/TEFL course (Teaching English to Foreign Language speakers) so my contact hours are 13 a week in comparison to just 7 of those just studying Lit. Still - it will be worth it. I’ve already started teaching and, yes, it is weird teaching adults as I feel I shouldn’t have authority over them but, at the same time, they are all so advanced and lovely that I don’t feel as stressed or nervous as I thought I would when standing in front of them. 

The first teaching session was only 20 minutes but the next one (next Thursday) will be 40 minutes and, it’s safe to say, I am nervous for that. When I stand in front of them the nerves almost fall away but, in preparation, I always feel like I’m going to fail. 

On the other side of university - the society side - I’m still on the outskirts. I’ve signed up and paid to join the Feminist Society and Creative Writing Society but haven’t had time to attend any sessions. I am also going to start attending the weekly free swimming sessions on offer yet, again, have not had time to go yet. Hopefully I’ll start next week with Creative Writing on Tuesday, the Feminist Society’s Black History Month talk on Wednesday and swimming on Thursday. Fingers crossed I’ll actually have time to go.

University then, is still exciting to me and I still want to stay. I’ve had a few moments of sadness (linked to an event which happened over the summer which I’ll write about when I’m ready, not homesickness), but these have been overwhelmed by the moments of happiness and sense of fitting in. 

Hope you stick around,

- R x

[florencepout]

bantasticbeasts replied to your post “no…. but I can save them” wtf these dufties didnt have to do me like...”

anyone else get strong ww "it's not about deserve" vibes off that whole part

mmmmmm yes now that you mention it omg... i went through the same emotional journey, someone do a parallel pls

[iinejs]

bantasticbeasts replied to your post “bantasticbeasts replied to your post “bantasticbeasts replied to your...”

its 100% 6pm here, that makes is like 9pm there right

it’s gonna be 8pm here ajshakshakshakshslshsldjakshdhffd

[horrorfilmlesbian]

@bantasticbeasts SHIT true guess I'll have to make time tonight lmao. Probably tomorrow morning even

[hemsworths-chris]

do you wanna be a member?

JILY CHALLENGE | @howlingremus​ vs @queensaphrodite​          lonely hearts club (marina and the diamonds) + muggle librarian!au

for my amazing partner, @queensaphrodite! and for elena (@meraudurs) and nai (@hiddenpolkadots​), for inspiring me to write and create (and for helping me edit this <3)

The library closes far too early, in her opinion. Sure, it closes at eight, and sure, maybe she ought to try just showing up earlier, but in her defense, it isn’t solely her fault. She only gets off work at five, and there are just so many books to read. How are three hours anywhere near enough?

She frequents the place almost every day, knows it like the back of her hand. But there’s something off about it today. Maybe it’s the fact that the historical fiction section switched places with the biography section, but that was last week.

Lily grabs her books and walks up to the counter to ask Peggy whether or not there’s a copy of Everything, Everything available and oh shit that’s what’s different.

There’s a different librarian - a bloke - at the desk, with hair too messy to be legal, glasses too outdated to be unintentionally bought, and a shirt too wrinkled to ever have come in contact with an iron. He’s the kind of fellow who’d be perfect as the main character as one of the books Lily wants to check out - maybe a Peter Pan or a Percy Jackson kind of fellow.

Lily blinks.

Well, fuck.

He looks up from fiddling with the cuffs of his button-down, meets her gaze for a moment, and cocks an eyebrow.

“You’re the first person under forty I’ve seen so far.” His voice almost seems to echo, and it’s much louder than most librarians tend to be.

Lily can’t even tell if he’s being dense or just kind of cocky, but she’ll place her bet on the latter. It’s clear as day in the way he holds himself - self-assured, unashamed, even a bit arrogant but still good-natured.

She crosses her arms. “That’s not true, and you know it. You’re literally right next to the freaking children’s section.”

The bloke laughs, a sound almost out of place in this quiet library. She owes herself twenty dollars.

“Check and mate, I guess. But then again, it’s not like I can really see them.” He taps his glasses with a ridiculously long finger. “They’re getting smaller every day, I swear.”

Lily even smiles at that for a second, before stuffing it back where it came from. This arrogant, loud-mouthed (they’re in a fucking library, has he no sense of volume?), far-too-handsome idiot has no place in this library of hers.

(All the same, she wouldn’t mind reading about someone like him.)

“Yeah, sure” she says, quickly, trying to get to the point. “Listen, do you guys have another copy of Everything, Everything?”

He shrugs. “Hell if I know.”

Lily is done with this bloke. She makes her way around the desk to where he’s sitting, pushes away his chair (“Oi, what d’ya think you’re doing?” but he doesn’t sound particularly annoyed, just curious), opens up the catalog page on the monitor in front of him (the first thing she sees when she opens it up is a March Madness bracket - she now kind-of-sort-of-really wants to punch the guy), and soundlessly types in the words Everything, Everything.

No more copies available, but there’s one currently on hold. And it’s not hers. Damnit.

The guy standing behind her takes a look at her screen, and she can hear him let out a breath. “Oh, shit, that book? Isn’t that the one with like the mysterious guy and the girl who’s supposed to be sick but - “

Lily hastily shoves out her hand, as if to slap it over his rambling mouth. “No spoilers!” she all but yells. And she realizes that she’s being such a hypocrite right now, so she adds, a little bit more quietly, “Please.”

The bloke smirks, like he knows exactly what she’s thinking. “Alright, then.” He peers over at the screen once more, and Lily presses the power button. She gets up, and moves over to the side of the desk that she ought to be on.

“Well,” she says curtly, trying not to smile (for some reason) at this endearing annoying stranger. “Thanks.”

He grins at her. “Don’t mention it.”

Suddenly, something occurs to Lily. “Hold on,” she says slowly. “You’ve read this book?”

For some reason, the bloke turns red. “Er - um, no? I got it for my friend…Marlene? And like I read the summary on the back -”

Lily smirks. “Liar. You’ve totally read it.”

If possible, he turns even redder - it’s quite a funny sight. “I was bored, alright? And it was lying around - I really had bought it for Marlene - and I…may have skimmed it?”

Lily laughs and tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear.  “Why are you acting so defensive? It’s just a book, relax.”

“Well, it’s not as good as the Percy Jackson series.” Besides the point, but Lily can’t deny that it’s true.

“Fair,” she admits.

She notices a watch on his hand (it looks extraordinarily beat-up, made of old leather and a face of cracked glass), and checks the time. Crap, the library closes in a few minutes. “I really should be going,” she says, making sure she has all the books she wants before turning around.

(She’s not sure if she’s imagining it, but the librarian’s face seems to fall slightly.)

Just as Lily’s about to head back, she hears a quiet “Wait.” She turns around.

“What is it?”

“Er.” The librarian looks…pretty sheepish, and he rubs the back of his neck. “What - what does it say on your shirt?”

Lily almost rolls her eyes, and she pulls back the cardigan she’s wearing.

“I left my heart in a book,” the guy reads. He looks back up at her.

“Is that, like, for a book club or something?”

Lily stares at him in confusion. “Sorry?”

“The shirt - you must’ve got it from some sort of club.”

“I…got it from Macy’s? So no, not a book club.”

He looks quizzically at her. “You know, you should probably make that shirt a book club, then.”

Lily raises an eyebrow. “For hearts in books?”

“Yeah, something like that. Like, aggressive bibliophiles or something.”

She perches herself on the desk, her legs starting to get tired of standing, and almost ends up knocking over a stapler. “Who’d join?”

“I would.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, and I’d grab some friends, too. Get some drinks, maybe some fries, and master the art of abandoning our poor, forsaken hearts in some dusty old books.”

Lily actually lets out a laugh. “I - don’t think that’s what it means.”

“But wouldn’t that be more dramatic?”

Come to think of it, it would be. Lily tries to envision it, but the only thing that really comes to mind is some sort of cult with an obsession for Bram Stoker and Mary Shelley. And they, of course, take their fries with a small cup of blood.

Anyways. She shrugs, and gets off the desk. “You do have a flair for the dramatics, then. Say, who the hell are you?”

His hands fly up to his hair - for what, to make it even messier? - and ends up almost knocking his glasses off the bridge of his nose.

“Stop giggling, bloody hell. And it’s James.”

Against her better judgement (sod it all, rational thought), she reaches over and pushes up his glasses. His hazel eyes follow her fingers, and he looks a little bit cross-eyed. It’s all a little bit sweet.

“James, is it? Well, I’m Lily, founder of the Hearts in Books Club.” The bloke - James, now - snorts at that, only causing to Lily to giggle even more.

James looks down at his watch . “I think the library closes right about now, you’d best be off.”

Lily swears under her breath, and James raises an eyebrow.

“Now, what was that?” The accent he’s putting on sounds a bit like some old-fashioned English professor, which kind of goes with the button-down, but not with the hair. “You do know you’re near the children’s section, next to so many impressionable young minds - you wouldn’t want to give them the wrong idea -”

“Oh, sod off,” she says, but not before glancing over to see if there’s anyone under the age of ten watching them. She checks to see if she still has all her books, and actually turns to leave.

“See you, Jimmy.” She smirks.

“OI, WATCH IT!”

~

Once she turns the corner, she can’t stop smiling. And even once she gets home and picks up her books and tries to - tries to lose her heart in them, damnit, she can’t stop thinking of James and the Hearts in Books Club and that damn hair.

Fuck, she thinks.

~

Lily returns to the library the next day, of course - she needs to pick up the sequel to Six of Crows, the novel she just finished.

(And she may or may not want to see if James is there.)

(He isn’t. Peggy is back, and though she loves Peggy, she’s a bit disappointed.)

(What is wrong with me, she thinks.)

After finding Crooked Kingdom, finally, she traipses over to the holds section. As far as she remembers, she doesn’t have anything on hold, but it’s always good to check.

There’s a book in her slot.

Furrowing her brows, she reaches up (and, quite embarrassingly, has to get up her tippy-toes; damn her lack of height), and grabs it. It’s hardcover, feels pretty new, and strangely enough, it doesn’t have that clear library binding around it.

The cover reads Everything, Everything. It’s the book she wanted yesterday - the one that the library shouldn’t have an available copy of. Confused, Lily opens the front cover, and the first thing she sees is a little note on a yellow Post-It, scribbled in Sharpie.

Lily,

Can this be the first book of the Hearts in Books Club?

See you Thursdays and Tuesdays.

- James.

There’s a little smiley face doodled next to her name, and Lily feels a strange, swooping feeling that she normally only feels at the end of a really good book.

And oh, fuck, she can’t stop grinning.

(But maybe, when she gets home, it’s something more than the book itself - something having to do with the note on the inside front cover - that prompts her to read it over and over again).

(Maybe. Just maybe).

[marisatomay]

I can’t believe it’s once again 2002 -chokers are fashionable -the republicans are fucking up america -spiderman is the only movie in the mcu

[prongsno]

Crayons Can Melt On Us

JILY CHALLENGE | @prongsno vs @alicelongbottom

summer tropes + you are drunk and rambling on about how nice the angle of my elbows are at this music festival but I can’t find your friends and I’ve lost mine, wanna spend the rest of the night getting drunk and dancing together??

(read on ao3)

Lily Evans blames Mary MacDonald. For everything.

It’s always Mary who’s getting her into trouble. Detentions, fights, blind dates…

But this time’s different.

This time they’re at the Leeds Festival, both completely hammered and belting out the words to One Direction’s ‘Kiss You’. She doesn’t even like them, but when Mary bought her drink number two and started spitting out the lyrics (literally the whole song, not even one word misplaced) to Outkast’s Hey Ya they somehow ended up on boy bands.

Now Mary’s arm is around her waist and they’re grasping onto their cups like it’s their life support. Lily hiccoughs and then suddenly Mary is crying.

Her boyfriend of ten months broke up with her last week. He’s been cheating on her for about two weeks and she only found out because she rang his phone and, of course, who should answer but this girl who says that said boyfriend is in the shower.

“D’ya know he rang asking for my forgiveness?” Mary sobs, gulping down another drink. “That rotten scumbag had the acidity to wait no… the - the adadcity?”

“Aud-acity. ‘Sjust think of the car.”

A group of people in flower crowns walk past at this moment, each biting into a hot dog or kebab or hamburger respectively.

When was the last time she ate?

Lily’s stomach churns at the thought but she’s got no idea if that’s out of hunger or nausea. She decides to sniff the air, the crisp wonderful and gross smell of barbecue and dripping fat with a portion of chips on the side sounds… amazing.

“Y’know what I need?” Her friend’s voice rings out in her ears. It’s a faint voice compared the noise of the festival around them, but being best mates for seven years means she’s now accustomed the soft song of Mary MacDonald.

“A nice juicy hamburger?”

“That too. But also a… a toe-curling and heart palpitating snog.” 

Her small friend sighs with a roll of her eyes and throws her hands in the air, spilling her drink over her legs in the process. “Where are all the fit blokes? I need a distraction and all the only people we passed are flower babies.”

Mary had cried for hours after The Phone Call Incident and she eventually fell asleep on Lily’s shoulder, rivers of dried mascara stuck against her red cheeks. She had spent all of the next day biting into chocolates and ripping apart marshmallows with her teeth, claiming she was going to swear off men forever.

Now Lily’s listening to Mary’s ‘Must Haves and Must Have Nots’ checklist for a bloke to snog (of course, the first check is ‘Must Not Be Named Graeme’, followed by ‘Must Have Sexy Hair That Is Grabbable During Said Snog’.

Lily wants whatever is best for her and if that’s finding some guy who’s suitable enough to snog her best friend then so help her she’s going to scour the entire length of this whole place fourteen times until she’s accomplished her quest.

“What do you want, Mary?”

“I told ya! A frickin’ hella of a snog-”

“I mean food.” Lily points to the kiosk in front of them, the guy behind the till looks at them expectantly.

“OH! Hah! Well beside the best snog of my life I guess… a double cheese burger with bacon and chips would be nice please and thank you very very much good sir.” She screams over the music and stands on her tiptoes over the counter so that the guy, whose name-badge says Peter in scrawny, delicate handwriting, can hopefully hear her.

Together they manage to just get the right amount of change, although the majority is in fifties and twenties and Peter spends the next few, agonising minutes hunched up as he counts out each coin.

When he finally says ‘Four pounds and fifty two pence’ and begins to scribble their order down on a bit of paper Mary lets out a long sigh and jiggles her right leg.

“Oh ‘ell I need to have the longest pee…did we pass any loos?”

Lily snatches a map of the festival by the counter and they spend the next few minutes trying to focus their eyes and stop the world from spinning.

“There.” Lily says after a few minutes of glaring at the map. She plops a finger on the small dot closest to them that says ‘portaloos’. “Got hand sanitiser? That’s gonna be disgusting and a hell-hole of nightmares.”

“It’s that or wet my pants and I really like these shorts. Damnit I can’t hold it in! Don’t eat my burg-er or I’ll… do something mean, kay?”

“You gonna be alright? I can come-”

Mary shakes her head and gives Lily a slobbery kiss on her cheek. “S’me remember? I’m fine.”

Exactly, Lily thinks with a snort. This is the girl who misplaces her phone, burns herself cooking because she touches the hot plate to make sure it’s hot and locks herself out of her flat because she can’t find her keys.

“Do nothing I wouldn’t do right?”

Mary winks, blows Lily a hurried kiss and then flees through the crowd, her legs close together as she tries to run and hold everything in.

Lily Evans is not drunk.

This is what she tells herself as she watches her friend disappear and the world is spinning (is it the world that spins or the moon? Or is it both?) like she’s on stilts and walking down a very steep hill.

As if on instinct her legs buckle and she holds onto the ledge for support, trying to calm down but also finding it extremely hilarious that she’s unstable.

Peter calls out order number six hundred and three and plops the brown steaming bag down on the counter. It smells delicious and she’s sure that’s her number.

Where did she put the receipt? She’s not holding it in her hands and it’s not on the floor by her amazing floral wellies (she bought them on Asos for only fifteen quid, an absolute bargain) either. Panic rises up and she looks through the queue to see if the owner of the bag steps forward.

Her fingers twitch nervously against the palm of her hand.

Is this stealing? Is she a criminal if she grabs that bag and it’s not hers? She did pay for one, so it’s not like she’s robbing the stall. And Peter looks far too busy serving the other hungry customers for her to ask if this is her number.

She’s already drunk. What the heck. Juicy cheeseburger here I come, she thinks with a lick of her lips and then she’s reaching out to grab the bag. She can taste the goodness and feel the delicious, meaty and hot air from the bag but then someone’s hand is reaching out too and they both grab onto it at the same time.

“Oi!” She yells at the hand. “S’mine that is!” It’s a very nice hand actually. She loves veins and long fingers and this hand is like the Van Gogh of all hands.

“Six hundred and three.” The hand drawls out, waving a receipt in her face. She can’t focus but the numbers 603 do stand out in bold in the middle of the paper.

Her hand is still on top of his when Peter looks up to give her a glare.

“Is she trying to steal your burger?”

“Nah, don’t worry Pete.” Hands laughs. “I think she’s just hungry and wanted to get there first. Still on duty, huh?”

Peter rolls his eyes and adjusts his left sleeve, it’s just been resting in a dodgy looking puddle on the counter and he pulls it up with a grimace. “Yeah. I finish in forty. I saw Remus about ten minutes ago, high as a kite he was. Said he was going to find one of those hamster balls.”

The guy next to her laughs. He’s got a laugh that gives her goosebumps. It’s light, sweet and a very contagious trickle that could probably force even the likes of Mr Scrooge to smile.

“What about Pads?”

Now, Lily is not one to usually join in on people’s private conversations but sometimes she can’t resist it. And this is one of the very rare times where the words fall out before she’s aware of it; she blames the alcohol in her system (for once not Mary) because she usually thinks before she speaks and she has a feeling this will be a problem before the night is out.

“You have a friend named Pads? Like…”

Peter nods and says “Right, just like a dog’s padded paws-” whilst Lily, subtle as ever drawls out at the exact same moment, “Like sanitary pads?”

Two things happen at once. Hands spits out his drink whilst laughing maniacally and Peter releases a shocked and mousy gasp. It’s as if he’s offended by any menstruation terminology and his cheeks are hot with embarrassment. But Hands, she loves this guy (and his hands- did she mention that already?); he’s shrieking with laughter.

Amidst his chuckles and snorts she can just make out “brilliant!” and that’s it. This is when she realises she’s laughing too, tears are leaking down her face as she doubles over the counter. His hands are resting on her shoulders and she can feel him shaking on top of her, the distinct smell of vodka and Malibu hot on his breath.

They’re still laughing when Peter just shakes his head and walks away. She’s worried she’s offended him (but if he seriously gets offended by the mention of ‘pads’ then she’s glad to be honest) but he comes back with a new deliciously steaming hot paper bag and she’s almost forgiven him for that.

He places it on the counter in front of them, nods and then walks off to deal with the other customers.

“That one’s yours.” Her amazing new acquaintance points to the additional bag and taps her hand.

How are both his hands so beautiful? They’re like marble and feel like all things good and pure (or not so pure) when they touch her skin.

Is it just her is it hot?

He’s hot that’s for sure, even if it’s just his hands that she’s focusing on.

He grabs for his paper bag and, she doesn’t mean for this to happen but, her eyes follow his arm and soon she’s staring at the most glorious and heavenly elbow she’s ever encountered.

“Sorry about Peter,” Mr Gorgeous says, his voice only a distant echo in her mind. “He’s never um. Been so good around women before.”

Is she salivating? Wow, this is embarrassing.

“And you are?” She tries to breathe a little slower but her voice is raspy. She’s never seen anything so beautiful before. His elbows are a flipping masterpiece.

“I suppose.” She can hear his grin. But she’s seriously so lost in his arms right now.

“Elbows.”

“Yes, that’s my elbow.”

The way he’s grabbing onto the bag makes his arm look so… defined? And the only way it could look even more ethereal is if it was at a ninety degree angle. Don’t ask her why but, ever since she discovered maths the angle of ninety degrees has just been so wonderful to look at.

“‘s very nice elbones. Your bone?”

Mr. Amazing Elbows chuckles and she feels a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

She’s not. But she smiles and nods, all the while still staring transfixed at his arm. She’s got goosebumps.

“Better than ever,” she says and she’s not even joking. She’s seen the light at the end of the tunnel, as it were, and it’s this guy’s elbows. “Y’know if you move your elbow slightly you’d be perpendicular.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth she instantly regrets it. His arm is close to hers and she’s been focusing on these two freckles that are placed perfectly right near his elbow. The words had escaped without notice.

He doesn’t say anything and for a second it looks like she’s going to get away with it. That is, until he leans down (he’s actually really tall, towering above her like The Big Ben) and breaths in her ear.

She’s seeing stars.

His breath is hot against her neck and she wishes she could stay like this forever, with him by her side and her staring at his earthshaking (and Lily-shattering) elbows. Until, because the music is still deafeningly loud, he shouts out over the live band with a very vehement ‘PARDON?’.

She shouts back. “PERPENDICULAR.”

Of course, this is when the music stops and it’s eerily quiet as her one worded answer echoes out into the atmosphere. Peter sends her a funny look, as do the twenty or so people queuing up for food.

Her embarrassment lasts only a few more horrifying seconds before another song is belted out from a million microphones and speakers. It’s as if she’s never spoken; people go back to their drinking, dancing and laughing and soon it’s only Elbows whose focus is still on her.

“Um, sorry.” He says. “Perpendick? What-now?”

It’s like her tongue is on fire and the only way to stop is for her to keep talking.

Mathematics was her favourite subject in high school. She was in the top set, got an A* in her GCSEs and then went on to do further Maths in college. So, when you look at it like that, her thinking about the angle of his elbows being at forty-five degrees isn’t really that weird.

“Your elbow.” She flicks at said part of his arm, relishing at how smooth and sturdy it is. “Is almost perpendicular.”

“Is that bad?”

“S’pretty normal angle but you make it look hella fine.”

She’s glad she’s drunk because, even though sober Lily talks about mathematics, she would never use the phrase ‘hella fine’ without being sarcastic. And yet here she is.

“I… thank you?” Elbows is now holding onto his cheeseburger and she’s transfixed as he moves his arm upwards.

Then she’s looking at his face and there are no words to describe how she feels in that second.

His eyes meet hers and it’s like the theme tune of Eastenders is playing on repeat because she swears she can feel the eruption of butterflies that explode in her stomach as he gives her a smile.

He’s got hands and elbows that could make Leonardo Da Vinci sob and his face is even better? Soft, brown eyes that she could melt into and lips like roses that bloom into a smirk that’s directed just at her. Why is she only looking at his face now?

“Alright?” He’s got ketchup on the side of his cheek but she’s said too much already. So she nods and uncovers her cheeseburger. Mary’s lies in the bag still.

How long does it take to go to the flipping bathroom?

She has no messages on her phone and if she waits any longer her food will get cold. Plus, Lily’s got Mr Amazing Elbows here to keep her company.

“Waiting for anyone in particular?” He nods towards Mary’s burger. “A boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Or-”

“Just a friend.” She’s never answered anything so fast in her life. Her cheeks are on fire. “But she’s been gone for a while. Probably snogging someone.”

He nods and bites into his burger.

“Um. So. What about you? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

He twiddles his thumbs and wipes at his mouth a napkin. Waiting for him to answer is the worst few seconds ever.

“Neither. I have a friend who’s somewhere here though. Probably trying to find free booze. That, or snogging someone.”

Now would be an excellent time for her to be suave and sexy, ask him if he wants to get a drink together and do some snogging of their own.

“Has seriously no one ever said to you ever how nice the angle of your elbows is?”

“Never.” He talks with his mouth open as he chews on his food, but she doesn’t care. “If they’re as good as you say they are then I’m going to have to have a long discussion with my mates about why they never mentioned it to me before.”

“Y’should. They’re really uh nice. Really.”

He’s grinning as he wipes his left hand over his face, smearing the ketchup in the process. He’s blushing.

“Thanks, but you’re only saying that cos you’re absolutely sloshed.”

She can’t believe he just said sloshed, it’s almost as bad as hella fine.

She is not sloshed. She’s just not sober.

“I bet you’ve had lots of ladies tell you how good they are.”

He bites his lip, trying his damned hardest to keep his laughter at bay. “No,” his eyes are shining and twinkling. “Just you.”

“Well. I’m glad I was the one who got to tell you how nice they are. Cos they are. Really nice.” She needs to stop before she humiliates herself further, so she bites her tongue and stares down at her burger.

She can feel his hot stare as she picks up one of her gherkins, it’s slimy and she’s never really liked the taste of them, and flicks it with her finger. It lands on Peter’s back, sliding off onto the floor and leaving a grease mark on his white t-shirt.

He’s grinning and howling again and then he’s standing, offering her his hand.

There’s a moment of hesitation, from both of them. They’re strangers, brought together by the unlikeliest of circumstances. But to hell with it, she’s always been a fan of romance. Even if they’re both tipsy.

“So, do you have a name? Or should I just keep calling you elbows in my head?”

“James. Although I do quite like elbows. What’s yours, or should I keep calling you flower?” He nods down at her wonderful flower wellies.

She wriggles her toes, suddenly shy even though she’s been nothing but embarrassing for the past half an hour.

“Lily.”

“I like that name.”

“Do you? I hate it.”

He finishes the rest of his drink then throws the empty cup with perfect precision and aim into a bin. She stops herself from clapping and applauding like a soppy cheerleader.

“So. Since both our friends have ditched us, wanna hang out? I mean. Um. Let’s just-” He’s rambling and it makes a change since it’s been her rabbiting on about everything since she’s met him.

“Yes.”

Her answer is definite, even if her voice is wobbly.

One drink turns into five, then he’s giving her a piggy back and her hands are wrapped around his neck and shoulders whilst he cups her thighs and holds her tight.

The music is loud and booming, but it’s only a hazy blur in the back of her mind. Her attention and focus is purely on one thing: him.

It’s like she’s dreamt him up. Because he’s perfect.

They dance through song after song, hands clasped together and bodies swaying close.

Even though they’re both drunk, falling over things and drinking Far Too Much… he still gives her goosebumps as he sends her a smile that she can’t help but smile back to.

A song comes on which they both despise and they both look at each other simultaneously before running off, hands entwined and contagious giggles leaving them hyper.

Then he’s trailing his fingers through her hair and she’s pulling him forward, already imagining how his lips will taste. Like a masterpiece, something that you can’t help but want more of.

Her phone buzzes against her thigh and James sighs into her hair.

“Are you that happy to see me you’re vibrating, love?”

She snorts and hits his arm before checking her phone. Of course it’s Mary.

“Lily!” Mary’s shrieking and laughing uncontrollably. She tries to stay focused on her friend, but James is pressed close, listening in on the phone even though Mary’s voice is booming through her speakers.

Lily doesn’t mind in the slightest.

“You have to see what I just whatsapp’d you.” She’s laughing and halfway through saying something else when the line dies and all Lily can make out is ‘Have you’ before there’s a beep beep sound.

Her fingers are shaking as she goes onto said app.

Mary’s just sent her a picture of a guy sitting in the mud; a very, very handsome guy (or what she can make out anyways because he’s wearing flipping sunglasses even though it’s past eleven) in a biker leather jacket. 

He’s got a bloody nose and mud splattered all over his clothes and face and there’s an unconscious smurf lying face down next to him. And Mary’s head is poking out at the bottom of the picture, laughing along with the biker fella like two old chums having a whale of a time.

“Oh my god, that’s my friend.” James stares at the picture, unable to stop the snorts that erupt in great multitude.

“Pads?” Lily’s grinning, already sending a message that’s just ‘?????’ to her friend. 

When James nods the two are hunched over, supporting themselves as they laugh for what seems the fifty-sixth time that night. Lily’s not really keeping count, but this guy has made her feel happier than she’s felt like a long time.

When the laughs slowly fade and they’re just left with a rather painful stitch in their right side, they’re back to where they were before. Faces close together, hurried gasps for air as they try and calm down. Jittery gazes and rosy cheeks.

It’s like time has paused, but only for them. The festival goes on around them in slow motion but the only thing that matters right there, in that moment, is the way James tucks a curl behind her ear in a cute and nervous kind of way.

He’s apprehensive and cautious as he leans in and gives her the lightest of kisses. It’s feathery and delicate, something so unlike the majority of the night they’ve just had. He’s got his eyes closed and that’s when Lily makes a quick decision.

She grabs onto his jacket, pulling her fingers through the material so he has to stumble slightly towards her. Then they’re sinking and melting into each other; hands everywhere and feet wobbling as they go deeper and deeper.

When they look again into each other’s eyes and he’s grinning and she has a toe-curling, fluttering feeling in every crevice of her body… that’s when Lily’s sure this encounter was meant to be. And that it was Mary MacDonald, in a way, who brought the two of them together.

[philipronans]

happy birthday, birthday buddy !!!!

and to you, birthday buddy!!!

[padfootdidit]

love to fanfic authors ask game!

reblog this so your readers can tell you what they love about your fic writing !!

1. favourite fic overall 2. favourite headcanon 3. favourite line 4. favourite scene 5. favourite au 6. favourite canon 7. favourite characterisation 8. favourite joke 9. favourite sad bit 10. favourite one shot 11. favourite series 12. favourite fic to reread

[gxldentrio]

i got you this rose and i need to know

Summary: She’s all looks, Petunia is. Tall, thin, elegant. Sheets of blonde hair frame her face, white and pink pearls adorn her pale neckline. And when her eyes squint and her teeth show—that’s when Lily knows she’s in trouble.

Word count: ~2.4k words

A/N: For the two loves of my life, who share this glorious day as their date of birth. I love you to the moon and back. @bantasticbeasts @yulbos. (Also, thank you @ shawn for letting me borrow your lyrics for the title. Could not have done this without u)

FFN / AO3

*

It’s all very complicated.

At least, that’s what she tells herself.

 i.

They were arguing again—Lily can’t really remember what about, except that it hadn’t been exactly pretty. The second Lily’s insults became directed at her brother-in-law, an awful man named Vernon Dursley, Petunia got all angry and shrilly like usual, and then Lily’s tongue got sharper, and –well.

Her sister had wanted to make a point, and so it was only natural that when she implied Lily was unable to get a boyfriend of her own, which was—supposedly—why she was so incredibly rude to Vernon, Lily would have blurted out that she was in fact, in a relationship, thank you very much.

In hindsight, Lily reckons she should probably get a new mouth, one that waited for her to think before it started talking. Wouldn’t that be fucking great.

 ii.

When Lily comes home after school one day, she finds her sister sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a gossip magazine—either Ok! Magazine, Grazia or Marie Claire, she doesn’t really remember.

“You’re not really dating, are you, Lily?” is the first thing Petunia asks her, with her nose turned up in disgust as she stares down at her younger sister. “No respectable male would be caught dead with you.”

Lily scoffs as Petunia places down the magazine. “First of all, why do you assume it’s a guy when I’m as bisexual as they come—“

“You’re confused, is what you are—“

“—and secondly, I’m not messing with you. I have better things to do with my time than find new and exciting ways to annoy you,” she replies, rolling her eyes.

A dangerous smirk dances on Petunia’s lips, and as her eyes light up, she says, “bring him ‘round for dinner, then.”

“I will,” replies Lily, staring defiantly at her sister’s eyes, daring her to go ahead.

She watches as Petunia picks at her impeccably manicured nails. “Next Saturday, at seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

“We won’t,” Lily snaps, her voice two octaves too high.

Petunia smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth and perfectly hydrated lips.

“Fantastic.”

 iii.

She’s laying on top of Potter’s bed, with her feet hanging off from the side and her face pressed into his pillow. She lets out yet another long and pained whine, and then says, “what have I done?”

“How should I know?” he replies from the leather swivel chair, biting his lip and furrowing his brown in concentration as he attempts a triple head combo on Ultimate Mecha Strike III. “The only thing you’ve done since you got her was complain about a ruined life. No clarification whatsoever.”

“It’s really bad. Like, worse than Sirius’-obsession-with-Gasolina-bad.”

He looks over at his bed and pauses the game, carefully placing the remote control on his lap.

“Get on with it, then.”

“I may have…” Lily’s cheeks are redder than her hair now, and for some reason, she can’t find it in her to face him.

“Yes?”

She gasps for air before blurting out, “I-may-have-told-Petunia-I-was-dating-someone.”

James, the idiot, throws his head back and lets out the loudest bark of laughter, one that can only be rivalled by Sirius’ that one time during the year eleven ball when they saw Dumbledore roller-blading through the venue.

“It’s not funny, Potter,” she huffs, because of course he’d revel in her agony.

“On the contrary, Evans, it’s hilarious.”

“She wants me to bring them over for dinner this weekend,” adds Lily, looking absolutely miserable, and of course, James replies by laughing even harder. “What am I going to do?”

He pauses to think for a second, furiously running his hands through his hair, when suddenly, his eyes light up.

“What?” asks Lily, mid-ponytail-adjusting.

“I could be your fake-boyfriend,” James proposes, shrugging his shoulders like it isn’t that big of a deal. (It is.)

Lily lets out a breath.

“Would you?”

���This will really annoy Petunia,” he prompts, licking his lips.

She looks down at his mouth, but shifts her attention back to his eyes before replying, “so it’s settled then.”

James stretches his hand forward. “Carved in stone.”

Lily takes it, and they both hold on for slightly longer than necessary.

“Brilliant,” she nods. “Thank you for doing this, Potter.”

“It’s no problem. I’ve always liked a good ruse.”

It’s a shame, then, that in reality Lily is completely infatuated with the bloke and would love nothing more than to grab him by the collar and shove him into the nearest closet. And, when Algernon –Potter’s cat– comes in with a bacon sandwich, it almost feels like he can sense how distraught Lily is over the whole thing.

Much later in the day—Potter invited her to stay over for dinner, because of course he did— they’re sat in his carpet, soaking up the moonlight, a bottle of rum that James nicked from Euphemia’s cabinets swinging back and forth between the pair of them.

“You were my first kiss, Potter,” Lily admits.

“You were mine, too.”

She tries convincing herself of how lucky she got, because honestly, it’s quite the perfect set-up. They’ve been mates for so long now, and she’s at his house more often than not, and he took her as his date to his second-cousin’s wedding.

Still, there’s something tugging at her heartstrings, but she vows to try her damn best to squash it. Whatever butterflies she’s got going on have got to go.

 iv.

At precisely seven o’clock, Lily rings the doorbell, James at her side, holding her hand. When Petunia opens the door, he tightens his hold on it.

The house looks just like always, but tonight it feels even colder. It’s not particularly pleasant living with Petunia and her husband, but even Lily is not used to the icy blue hue that colours the kitchen. It’s the dead of winter and it almost feels like the weather is doing it on purpose. Maybe Petunia had something to do with it—she’s always liked having connections.

Petunia greets the two of them with a smile, a fake one, of course, and looks Potter up and down as if she’s testing him, as if she’s testing them. She can hear Vernon’s voice coming from the living room, rough and gravelly, and Lily hates it, hates that she feels like an outsider in her own house. James senses this, and presses a kiss on her left temple, all part of the act, nothing short of bittersweet.

They make their way to the dining table, calm and quiet, and James puts his arm around Lily’s shoulders, a silent way of telling her he’s there and she can rely on him for support.

She knows. He is her best friend, after all.

Petunia serves them meatloaf and mash, with green beans on the side. Vernon tucks right in, blissfully ignorant to Lily and Petunia’s silent argument. Vernon Dursley is not dumb, but he’s also not particularly clever, and Lily wishes that was the worst she had to say about him.

Today, however, he’s not important. What matters is that she and James make their sham of a relationship seem believable enough.

It’s harder for her than it is for him, she learns. He doesn’t have to think before reaching up to trace the back of her hand, or to flick her on the nose. Lily guesses he must have loads of practice in pretending, what with every ploy he pulls with the rest of the Marauders, his brothers in everything but blood.

And so, because he knows Petunia, James doesn’t launch into an elaborate story of how the two of them came to fall in love, and then into a relationship. Instead, he sums it up in two quick sentences, tries to act as normal as possible, and stares deep into Petunia’s eyes as if to say ‘I’m on her side.’

If Lily’s parents were here, it’d be different, he’d be different, but they aren’t. They aren’t—and well, Lily finds it best not to dwell on such things. This is what she has to deal with. This is her life now.

She is certain her sister can feel the animosity radiating from James’ body. He’s tense, and Lily can feel his leg jumping up and down in a failed attempt to let go of all the pent-up energy. She places her hand on his thigh. He looks down, and then his eyes trace the skin up her bare, freckled arm, to her exposed collarbone, to her flushed cheeks.

She’s all looks, Petunia is. Tall, thin, elegant. Sheets of blonde hair frame her face, white and pink pearls adorn her pale neckline. And when her eyes squint and her teeth show—that’s when Lily knows she’s in trouble.

*

“She saw right through us,” Lily breathes, holding her head between her hands as she crouches down on Potter’s sofa.

“You don’t believe that.”

“I do,” Lily murmurs, and then her silent sobs become louder and it doesn’t take long for her to be drowning in her own tears. It’s a good thing his parents aren’t home.

“Hey, hey, hey,” James tells her, his voice so gentle that it’s barely even there. “What’s wrong?”

She can’t really tell him, of course. Can’t tell him the way it stings, because he’s a damn good actor and she’s desperate for it to be real. It’s overwhelming, and she’s tired, and she just wants to go home, but where even is that anymore? Certainly not at the house, where she’s treated like absolute garbage, and has been for the better part of two years.

“Lily?” he asks, running his hands through his hair, making it even messier than usual, and Lily wishes it could all just stop.

“I think I’m having a panic attack,” she says, and realisation dawns upon James’ face. It doesn’t take long for him to go into full-blown nurse mode. It’s not unusual for Lily to keel over with anxiety. Now that he has a name for it, he knows how to deal with it—he’s done so before.

“Lily,” he starts, slower this time, “breathe with me, okay? We’ll count to ten.” In and out, in and out. “You’re doing great, I’m right here.”

She closes her eyes and does as she’s told, and eventually her head stops spinning and she clings onto James like he’s her only lifeline. “Thank you,” she croaks out, and he shakes his head and assures her that it was no problem.

“How can I help?” James asks, carefully sitting next to her. Lily shrugs, at a complete loss about what to do. He is, too, until an idea pops into his head, except it’s coming from a place of wishful thinking, and so ridiculous that he doesn’t know if he should share it.

Lily, of course, notices. “What is it?” she asks, biting her lip so hard it could bleed.

“We could… um…”

“Yes?” she prods.

“We could practice,” James coughs. “For when she’s around.” He can feel his flaming hot cheeks burn, but when he sees the way Lily’s shoulders relax and her eyes light up, it’s worth it.

“You don’t have to do that, James,” she tells him, in the quietest little voice. It’s sweet, and somewhat hoarse, and he’s oh so very attracted to her.

“I don’t mind.”

She bites her lip again. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. Besides,” he presses, “it’s not like we’ve never done it before.”

That was true. They’d been about fourteen at the time. It had been right after school, and they were bored out of their wits and wanted to get it over with.

“So there’s no reason for it to be awkward,” Lily replies, excitement starting to bubble in her stomach.

“None at all.”

“That’s great.”

James nods. “I’m going to kiss you know.”

And so he does.

 v.

It’s been two months since the beginning of their charade. Neither of them have been able to sleep, the fact that this is only a ruse tugging at their brains, ripping at their insides. It didn’t take much to convince Petunia, to be honest. She just… walked in on one of their practice sessions and that was it. That, of course, only meant that now they absolutely had to keep it going.

Besides, it’s not like they can fake-break up to get it off their backs. No, Petunia’s annoying as is, it simply wouldn’t do to add fuel to the flame. They’re too young to be prey.

It’s the beginning of March and they’re back in his room, the colourful walls mocking their shared misery. In the midst of the strained silence, Lily hears James mutter, “I can’t do this.”

“Huh?”

“This,” he says, this time a little louder, gesturing to the space between the two of them. “I can’t keep this up anymore.”

He wouldn’t. He can’t. No.

“It was your idea!” she counters, panic starting to cloud her vision. She’s desperate, scared out of her wits that this is their downfall. She can’t lose him too, not him, she’s lost so much already.

“Yeah well,” he starts, and Lily notices how he looks about to burst, “I thought I could ignore my feelings, but I guess not, uh—“ his mouth clamps shut. He’s said too much, and there’s no turning back now.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Lily asks, the tiniest hint of hope flaring up inside her, and she’s trying to contain it, because it’s likely that she only heard him wrong, but she can’t. She can’t and it’s taking over.

“I’m in love with you.” It’s Earth-shattering. “I’m in love with you, and I can’t deal with it anymore. I can’t stand not knowing what’s real and what’s not, or if there’s anything real at all, because—fuck I wish it was, all of it—“

Suddenly, her body is flush against his. Their lips are tangled together and she’s prodding his mouth open, and it’s desperate, really, the way he’s clinging to her back and she to his neck.

And then, they slow down, and it soon becomes more laughter and smiling and teeth-clashing-against-teeth than actual kissing, but it’s fine, really, because now Lily has her answer. This, right here.

This was home.

[therhiannonway-blog]

Going to University

University. The big step. For some people, the step might not be that little. They’ll go to their local university and that will be that. For others, they might leave the country, take advantage of free education in Europe somewhere. For others and, from what I’ve seen, for most, they’ll move a few hours away from home, out of their comfort zone but not far enough away that their parents wouldn’t be able to reach them in a day.

I’m part of the latter group. Three hours away from home isn’t far really, especially when at one point in my life I had to travel seven hours on a plane back and forth a few times a year. Also, especially when home has become such an abstract concept. If I’m honest, I can’t remember the last time anywhere really felt like home is meant to feel.

Having moved to four different places, attended five different schools and, recently, become used to spending half of my holidays in one place and half in the other, that’s what happens. Of course, it’s less than some people but, also, it’s a lot more than people I know and am friends with now. The people I know now have spent their whole lives living in one place, going to the same school and, if they have moved, it’s only a few roads down. I haven’t been so lucky. From another perspective, they have been unlucky.

Through moving I might have lost what it meant to have a home but, I’ve also gained experiences and values and skills they will never know. For example, I can pack everything I need for two weeks into a carry on, and in under ten minutes. I could probably even do five if I needed to.

So, for me, moving isn’t that big a step. I’ve done it before. Over and over again. I know I have the social skills to meet new people, despite my anxiety, I know I can cook and use public transport and be independent. I’ve had independence in one sense or another since I was 11 years old. I know I can budget, even if I don’t want to, and I know I can write a good CV to get a job. Which is why the moving to university doesn’t worry me. Instead, I’m just excited.

Moving opens endless possibilities. From the experiences to the people to the temporary home you might be able to create.

I’m also excited about the learning. To actually study English Literature is a dream and that’s exactly what I’m going to be doing once freshers is over and lectures begin. Finally, I won’t have to dilute my studies with subjects that don’t interest me, however useful my teachers might think they are. I’ll be surrounded by other people who love what I love.

That’s what I’m going to uni for. Of course, the drinking will be fun and the events will be amazing and I’ll meet ‘friends for life’, or so I’m told but, really, what I cannot wait for is sitting down in a lecture to take notes on English. Call it what you want – lame, sad, nerdy… I don’t really care. I’ve been called all those things enough times to know that they’re not really insults. They’re just other people’s misconceptions. And, also, a lot of the time, they come from people who don’t get grades as good as you.

Don’t get me wrong. I will have a life. I just cannot wait to actually learn in an environment that I think will actually suit my learning technique.

Speaking of having a life – part of my life at the moment is my boyfriend, who went to university last weekend and will be studying in a totally different part of the country. He’s only one or two hours away and, of all places, in London, which means it’ll be easy for us to get to one another. Still, it’s been difficult. My best friend also went to uni last weekend and this week has been full of packing, accompanied by the overwhelming sense of loneliness. I mean, now that is kind of sad. After all, it’s only been a week and yet I feel like they left months ago.

We have plans to see each other and have promised that, if we can’t meet up as frequently as we would like, we’ll definitely see each other at least once a month. I trust him, completely, and it’s not like I’m worried about us breaking up. We’ve been together for over 18 months now and both of us feel strong enough to make it through uni. It’s just getting used to the fact that he’s no longer regularly available to talk or that I can’t just pop on the train for fifteen minutes and see him at the other end. (Also, that I can’t see his dog. Heart breaking, isn’t it.) I know I will get used to it, I’d just rather skip to that point than go through missing him. The same goes for my best friend. I wouldn’t be who I am today without her and not talking to her every second is like losing a limb.

They’re part of the reason I’m so excited and impatient to just be there already. I’ve seen all their snapchats, and everyone else’s, and I want to just get there, start.

Hopefully the reality lives up to my expectations and, in a week, I’ll be just as excited about staying at uni as I am about going.

Hope you stick around

-       R x