#how do you hate a seven year old that like immediately grew and changed as and apologised for her actions that were a lil bit mean

[kayden-i-guess]

why oh why must all my faveourite female character get such unwarranted amounts of hate :(.

[plantsandpies]

Fairy tail headcanon not related to my previous post!

All dragonslayers have dyslexia. The first gen do because they were from 400 years ago. They spoke and read a different language. So I imagine it’s like them knowing Gaelic and then them having to learn English immediately because they were shoved 400 years into the future. And English has the highest rates of dyslexia because it’s combined with so many different languages and spellings. Obviously English isn’t what they speak, but I imagine it’s like this scenario.

The second gen do because the lacrema (I have no idea how to spell that) is based off of the previous dragonslayers. They wanted it to be like a skill transfer, so they just shoved the language thing in it. These people didn’t care about the people, just the result (look at cobra. He can listen to people’s thoughts. That would so over stimulating. They obviously didn’t think anything through).

I don’t know if Laxus got an actual procedure like the rest did, but if he didn’t it’s worse for him because his dad would’ve done it and he did it kinda incorrectly, as in, it works properly but it was placed incorrectly so some side effects are worse.

Which makes so much sense on why Natsu had trouble reading. Not only did he not know the language it’s also with different sounds, shapes, and spellings.

I imagine Gajeel joined young, but, unlike Fairytail, it wasn’t a place where you could admit you couldn’t read. Juvia was the one who taught him because even though she was a part of phantom she’s like a genuine and kind person. Until he learned she also read the jobs out loud but in a way where everyone just thought it was her being quirky. Gajeel didn’t pick up on until he went through his character arc. After he thanked her a lot and helped her make her grey body pillow.

(Unrelated, but I think Gajeel’s like, an engineering genius. He works with metal a lot and I think he’ll just make stuff. So he made the printing press for the fabric of the pillow).

As for if the gen one’s were too young to have learned the language. I believe Natsu and Gajeel were like eight. Because Natsu is 18 at the start of the show and Lucy’s 17, so he’s a year older. Meaning when he came out of the portal he had to be a year older than Lucy was. Her mom died when she was seven, so Natsu would be eight. I think Gajeel’s the same age. That would make the rest like 2 since Wendy’s 12 when Natsu is 18, but they still grew up around the language (which I’m calling demonic because they found it used in Zeref’s writings and in one of his demon books that was later stolen from the castle. That wasn’t its original name but it’s been 400 years and his works are like their only sources.) and most 2 year olds start learning to recognize letters. At least I did but my mom did make me watch like two episodes of educational tv (word world for anyone who’s wondering, which I hated because it was boring) before I could watch something not educational, so maybe I’m the weird one.

I also believe this was what Zeref wrote in even during the show because it was his native language and he was planning to die or change the past, so why would he need a new language? Plus it’s be super hard to learn especially when you’re literally being driven insane and time and culture is constantly changing. (I have my own theory about how the curse works because it’s kinda explained but also kinda not explained in the show; but that’s a different post.)

For reference: I have dyslexia and for me it’s spelling issues and when I read I like skip lines and sometimes the words like blur? If that makes sense. My sister also has it and had a lot of trouble with d and b growing up. She has it worse than me, though.

[marxism-lelouchism]

Can I ask something from Code Geass? What do you think are Lelouch and Suzaku’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic? Sorry if you've answered these questions before.....

i'm delighted you asked! always love talking about these guys :) full response under the read more because i ended up writing an essay lol

i think what makes lelouch and suzaku such compelling characters to me are their contradictions and complexity. i resonated immediately and especially with lelouch's character so i'm obviously biased towards many of his traits but i like how his aloof, intellectual front masks someone who cares deeply, emotionally about the people he loves. he's thoughtful, kind, and has a strong sense of justice (or perhaps more accurately revenge), and yet he's also capable of cold, calculated cruelty. he does everything in the name of a better world for his sister but he never once asks nunnally if she wanted him to lie, deceive, and kill for her. he claims to be a "knight of justice" but his desire to destroy britannia is not rooted in anti-imperialist values but rather the personal injustices he, his sister, and his best friend experienced. (i do think he has some genuine principles, they're just not his primary motivation.) in a story about resisting imperialism and colonialism, he is a white ex-prince whose power is the ability to force people to bend to his will. in many ways, lelouch is still the 10 year old boy whose world was ripped from under him, first with his mother's assassination and his sister's disabling, then with the invasion of japan, and he never grew past that, desperate for a sense of control over his life. his greatest strength is his love for his friends and family, and his greatest weakness is that he forces that love, his own concept of love, onto them. that he recognizes he must die for his loved ones to see a better world—and that he will not see that world with them—speaks to the strength of his resolve and is an incredibly satisfying, and tragic, ending to his character arc.

suzaku, similarly, is a hypocrite. i never disliked his character (unlike many fans who hate him for all the wrong reasons), but it did take me a while to really warm up to him and appreciate his role in the story and as a foil to lelouch. as the son of japan's last prime minister who became a soldier in the force occupying his own country, suzaku's biggest weakness is his stubbornness in clinging onto liberal, reformist ideals of change. it's easy to dismiss this as naivety or ignorance (he is the 17 year old son of a politician, born into an upper class family after all), but i think it's much more interesting to think of suzaku's liberalism as a deeply repressed recognition of how destructive and irredeemable the system he's trying to "change from within" is. i think, deep down, he must know that being a cog in the machine means that the machine will tear him apart—and he wants that. he says he wants the fighting to stop, the war to end (and yes, i also do believe that is a genuine desire to a degree), but what he really wants is to die, a punishment for killing his father and thereby surrendering a whole country to exploitation and degradation. suzaku, too, has a good heart (in any other story he would be the protagonist!), but it's often buried by a tremendous amount of guilt and self-hatred. his character development especially in season 2 is really interesting to watch. he turns some of that hatred outward, onto zero, and in the process he grapples with the question of if he's really much different from that which he hates. whenever i want to be harsh to suzaku i remember he was just a boy when his country was destroyed overnight and that he spent seven, very lonely years growing up in the jaws of a system that certainly did not show him much mercy.

as for what i love about their dynamic...short answer is probably everything LOL. the long answer is that they are really excellent narrative foils to the extent that their relationship, its ups and downs, is the primarily driving force of code geass. i've already mentioned how their contradictions mirror each other and i personally love how their conflict draws out a deeper political question of reform vs revolution. but despite all their differences, they work really well together. they complement each other's strengths, cover for each other's weaknesses, "there's nothing lelouch and i can't do together". there is a deep amount of respect and implicit trust they have for each other. they have their own secret codes and signs! their relationship and its development feels very real, intense, and fleshed out to a degree i don't feel like many other fictional relationships achieve. they go through/put each other through a lot in those 50 episodes. the miscommunication, betrayals, backstabbing, selling out, deception, and yet also genuine friendship, understanding, and reconciliation. it works and feels very believable. they start on opposite sides at the beginning of the story and you can see how they slowly come to understand each other and eventually meet in the middle. taking over the britannian empire to destroy it from within is their final compromise. it's a harebrained (politically implausible in the real world) scheme that only worked because they worked together.

i love how they are the one person who truly understands the other, who has seen the good, bad, and downright reprehensible. there are so many sides to lelouch, and suzaku is the one character who has seen them all. lelouch who thinks of suzaku as "my first friend and worst enemy", and suzaku who thinks of lelouch as "my worst friend and first enemy". there are many reasons why their relationship should be unequal, marred by the obvious power differences between a white colonizer and japanese colonial subject (an imbalance they're quick to recognize in their first meeting when suzaku beats up the trespasser in his home), and yet in their personal relationship, they are equals. lelouch goes through great pains to respect suzaku's free will and avoid using his geass on him, and even when he does geass him, the order isn't to force suzaku to listen to him but instead to live. when they become emperor and knight, it's clear that their relationship isn't one of lord and servant but instead of co-conspirators. "emperor" and "knight" are just roles they're playing. suzaku kneels before lelouch not because he's the emperor's knight but to pay respect to lelouch's resolve. they play many roles throughout the story, classmates, civilian and pilot, terrorist and soldier, emperor and knight, but at the end of the day they are just lelouch and suzaku to each other. despite, or because of, everything they've been through, lelouch still leans on suzaku as he dies and suzaku still sheds tears for him.

[emmedoesntdomath]

The faymus Jack Kelly

*sigh* well. unless we think of any more, this is our last one. it’s the end of an era, y’all.

so of course I made jack last.

francis “jack kelly” sullivan was born to a faceless father and mother, and immediately taken to an orphanage. there, he was given the state-ordained name of francis sullivan, completely ignoring his hispanic roots and background. he grew up knowing nothing about himself except for that he felt wrong and clearly, he wasn’t wanted. the system wasn’t great, and it was run by the church, not the state. by the time he was nine, he had given up on any and all gods.

he ran away first at seven, and was caught after two days by snyder, who he learned very quickly to hate. he runs away again, and again.

he’s always caught. part of him wonders if the sky hated him.

he meets charlie morris in the refuge (his personal hell) at twelve, and his world becomes a little brighter. he becomes jack, charlie crutchie (jack still hates that one), and they run away again, this time together, and a young italian boy with curls and a slight accent stumbles upon them hiding in an alley. they move to the top of the lodging house, and jack kelly starts hawking the headline.

he’s scarily good at it, and people notice quickly. the older kids start picking him out of crowds, start remembering his name and clapping him on the back when he earns some extra money. and when their leader, knuckles, ages out, they all look to him. never mind that he’s only fifteen, still a little green and more than a little dumb. but he’s never been good at saying no to people when under pressure, so he starts calling himself the king of manhattan.

the name doesn’t really stick, not as much as cowboy, but the friends he had made do, and soon enough, he’s got newsies beneath him who would follow him to the ends of the earth. two years pass, and everything’s fine. great, even. jack flirts, sells, draws, does everything in between.

and the voice in his mind hisses you will never be enough

when he meets the jacobs brothers, he’s tired, annoyed, and more than a tad hungover. but david jacobs- he’s alive, more alive than jack has ever been. he’s smart, funny, easy on the eyes. he’s everything jack wants to be, everything that should make jack worry about his being of the king of manhattan ending soon. but for once, he’s not worried.

instead, he can’t stop staring at david jacobs’ eyes or mouth, and oh, that’s a problem.

then the strike happens, and david becomes davey, and jack should really be worried about this whole thing, but davey davey davey. he can’t stop drawing him, or seeing him in his dreams. he takes the money, tries running (again)(why does he always run?), but comes back to davey, and oh, yes, this is a very stubborn problem.

they kiss and fall in bed one night after jack’s drunk enough whiskey to make him start whispering things in davey’s ear. everything changes, but nothing changes. for years. and jack? well, jack can be stubborn, too, and he can pretend he’s not DROWNING in self-loathing.

race finally cracks, and yells at him for three hours straight, and then they kiss again, but it’s better this time, real this time, and jack decides he’s going to spend the rest of his life drawing david jacobs. they grow old, as old as a newsie gets, and they grow up.

get jobs, find their way around, away, and back to each other. have a couple kids. lose a couple friends. but in the end, jack kelly is still francis sullivan, and the sky has always known that francis sullivan loves david jacobs in his bones, even if it hates him.

davey leaves jack, leaves francis, but it’s the kind of leave that’s like falling asleep; sweet, peaceful, painless. francis keeps breathing, keeps moving, keeps mourning. his hands always draw those eyes. always.

when he leaves, too, he had never been happier.

(maybe, just maybe, the sky didn’t hate him.)

(for how could the sky hate one so loved?)

[talesofstyles]

Good Morning Indeed

absolutely no plot whatsoever, just a bit of husband and dad harry in the midst of the family’s morning chaos 😂

Harry

“Go get the condom on.”

“I’ll pull out, I promise.”

“Your pull out game is weak.”

“Oi, them’s fightin’ words.”

“There’s a reason we’ve got six kids.” Says the missus with a roll of those pretty—but sometimes deadly (please don’t tell her I said this)—eyes. “‘Sides, I’ve just changed the sheets yesterday. You are not coming on the sodding sheets.”

“Fine,” I sigh and reach down to the bedside table. Why is the drawer filled with sodding Duplo and those tiny, pricey Sylvanian Family bunnies? I’m guessing kid number two, three and four have something to do with that. A few more seconds of rummaging before I finally found my treasure in the very back of the drawer. I lay on my back as I sheath myself up, and seeing as I’m already here… might as well, right? I smirk at her as I say, “hop on then.”

“Fat chance that,” she mutters. “Do I have to take off my top?”

“Nah,” I shake my head, it’s cold, and I’m a considerate husband. “A flash will do. Just give me a visual.”

She rolls up my shirt that she wears to sleep, a really old white rolling stones t-shirt that has two holes and a loose thread hanging on for dear life from the hem. She looks homeless. Gorgeous homeless though. 

“Nice,” I flash her a boyish grin, like a teenage boy seeing his first pair of tits. “You’ve got great racks.”

“You’re just saying that…”

I know what she sees when she looks at herself in the mirror and I wish she could look at herself through my eyes. 

“Hey, don’t you dare. My babies grew in that body, that’s everything.”

Her tender smile hits me right in the gut. “I love you.”

“Love me enough to ride me?” I say with a playful flick to one nipple.

“Nice try.”

“I love you,” I mutter near her mouth and give her a searing kiss. I run my tongue over her bottom lip, then I kiss her down her neck, her cleavage and her breasts. I slowly circle one nipple, and she giggles, knowing it’s a well-rehearsed move that is guaranteed to do what’s needed. See, her tits are kind of like start buttons. No matter the situation, a little attention to those bad boys switches things around real quick. Her head slams back against the pillow. And she moans, holding my head in place.

We’ve got ignition lads. 

I nestle my body on top of hers, and there’s a bit of wayward angling and poking until I find my way inside of her. And then it’s on. Two bodies writhing on the bed. My hips rotate in long, slow circles.

“Bollocks!”

“What? The condom isn’t broken, is it?”

“No, it’s bin day. I forgot to take out the recycling bin.”

“S’fine, we’ve got time before the school run.”

The bin’s sorted, back to the shag…

I slide my hands under her, bringing us closer. Rocking us faster. My forehead hovers close to hers and I open my eyes so I can watch. What can I say? I’m greedy like that. I want to soak up every gasp, every flicker of pleasure across her face. Pleasure I’m giving her.

Her breathing changes. It turns panting and desperate, and I know she’s close. I move harder, grinding against her, inside her, with every forward push. Warms sparks tickle my spine and heat spreads down until every nerve in my body is shaking. I slam inside her, burying deep as her hips jerk upward. She spasms hard around me, gripping me tight. 

I rock back my hips and pull almost all the way out, but then I freeze. Because a dreaded sound echoes across the room, grabbing our full attention. It’s coming from the baby monitor. It’s a rustling, the sound of cotton rubbing cotton. Like snipers in the jungle, we don’t move a muscle. We don’t say a word. We wait, until the rustling stops. And all is quiet again. 

Too bad it’s not for long. Because two thrusts in, a light comes on in the landing. Followed by small footsteps heading down the stairs. Shit.

“Harry, just come already. They’ll all be up soon.”

“I’m close… don’t rush it, you’re scaring it away.” 

She grinds her hips. Also another well-rehearsed move that she knows will get me off. But I freeze again, because there’s a second set of footsteps and the sound of a toilet flushing. Oh, and the babies next door are starting to whimper. 

Great.

“I’M HUNGRY!” That’s James, darling little cockblocker number four who likes to be fed on time. He’s three.

“WE’LL BE OUT IN A SECOND!” My wife shouts over my shoulder. “Harry for the love of god-”

I pick up the rhythm. Small beads of sweat form on my brow. She grinds her hips again, and I try to focus. “Just like that, fuck, keep doing that.”

“Sshh, keep your voice down.”

“IS THERE ANY BREAD THAT ISN’T 50/50?” That’s Eleanor, child number two. She’s seven, and she’s one of those children who seem to possess a discernible palate that knows when we’ve changed brands of baked beans or attempt to bring sugar-free fruit squash through the doors.

“IT’S THE SAME,” I reply.

“NO, IT’S NOT. DO WE HAVE OTHER FOOD?”

“THERE ARE SHREDDIES.”

“DON’T LIKE ‘EM.”

“PORRIDGE.”

“I’M NOT A BEAR!”

Honestly, seven-year-olds gunning for a fight this early in the morning can go do one.

The babies are starting to gather volume next door so I try to focus again. It only takes a few more thrusts before ecstasy wrecks my body, making me shudder. I press my lips against her neck as I come back down to earth. But I don’t move yet. I know we should get going because things are already chaotic outside our door, but I just don’t have the will yet. I’m considering going back to sleep for a minute or two. She won’t mind, will she? Well, I’m wrong. Because she proceeds to perform the move that seems to amuse every sodding woman on earth. And causes every man to squeal like a bloody pig. Without warning, she uses her powerful muscle to squeeze my extremely sensitive cock. 

Girls, grab a piece of paper and write this down. I’m speaking on behalf of every man to walk on earth here; we hate that. We don’t think it’s funny.

I jerk back, pull out, and roll off her. I try to look annoyed as she giggles, and obviously I fail, because that freshly fucked, flushed-face makes it impossible not to grin back.

“CAN I HAVE JAFFA CAKE?” That’s Victoria, child number three. She’s five, and she’s yelling as she thunders up the stairs. 

“JAFFA CAKE ISN’T BREAKFAST,” my wife shouts back as she sits up and hands me a nappy sack. “Harry…”

I wrap up the condom with it and toss it to the bin. “You’ve just taken me life force, woman, give me a moment.”

“CUSTARD CREAM?”

“NO.” We shout in unison. 

“HOBNOB THEN?”

“STAY AWAY FROM THE BISCUIT TIN!”

“You want to wrestle a biscuit-hunting kid out of a cupboard and 50/50 bread drama or fussy babies with full nappies?”

“Babies.” I hear a small child get whacked by a sibling downstairs and I feel like I may have got the better deal here.

Next door, the twins are not happy. They’re six months old now, and they’re both teething. Thing one glares at me as I walk into their nursery and thing two stares at me stroppily from the corner of her cot. Their cheeks are scarlet, and thing one proceeds to bark at me like a seal. I pick his warm, sleepy, cuddly body and cradle it close to mine as I lay him down on the changing table. I smell the dampness. It’s definitely wee. He’s soaked through, I think I didn’t tuck his willy in when I last changed him around three in the morning so it sprayed in some upward motion and drenched his clothes. See, this is why girls are better than boys. There’s no way they can pee upwards. 

After I put a fresh nappy and a change of clothes, I put him down on the rug so he can wiggle around while I grab his sister and sort her out. After six kids, I’m definitely a pro with baby duty and can practically change their clothes one-handed. The whole thing takes only a few minutes.

I cuddle the babies on each side as I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. They immediately reach out to their mum who’s cracking some eggs as soon as they spot her, knowing she’s the only one who can cure their hunger this morning. 

“Uniforms!” She says to the big kids as she takes one baby into her arms. “We’ll do breakfast after. Please, please, please…”

Desperate pleas lead them to saunter out and up the stairs. I follow my wife into the living room and hand her the other baby as she plops down on the couch. She rolls up her shirt and the babies latch instantly. Tandem nursing is harder now that they’re a little older and aware of their surroundings. They’re trying to scratch each other’s faces as they nurse. “Oi, what’s this? You each get a tit, stop fighting.”

They seem to somehow listen to me and have stopped trying to poke each other’s eyeballs. We’ll see how long that lasts. “Finish the eggs?”

I nod. “I’m on it.”

I brew some coffee, finish the scrambled eggs, and pop the slices after slices of bread in the toaster. Breakfast is done just in time as my wife walks back into the kitchen with two full and happy babies. She puts them in their high chairs and I scoop a bit of eggs on each of their trays for them to nibble on.

George appears back in the kitchen clad in his uniform with his also dressed brother trailing behind. We always lay his clothes the night before on his bed and he gets dressed all by himself in the morning. And he’s getting better at it, seeing he only missed a button on his shirt.

“Hi mate,” I say as I fix his button and he flashes a toothy grin at me. I plop him down on the chair, he’s graduated from the high chair now but still uses a booster seat.

“No toast!”

“What do you want then?”

“Chee-yos?”

I nod before I grab a handful of cheerios and set them on his plate next to his eggs. Then I take a few steps back across the table. “Hey, James, set it up.��

He flashes me another toothy grin before he opens his mouth wide and keeps it open. I hold a single Cheerio between my fingers while I bend my knees and bounce my hand as if I were dribbling a basketball. “Three seconds left on the clock, down by one. Styles got the ball. He fakes left, he drives in, he shoots…”

I toss the Cheerios in a high arc. It lands right into his mouth.

“He scores! The crowd goes wild!”

James holds both hands over his head. “Core!”

“Viv stole the biscuit tin, you know? She ate three jammie dodgers upstairs.” Eleanor says as she walks in with book bags and school shoes. 

George, seeing his sister walks in, proceeds to open his mouth wide and flashes her the half-chewed eggs on his tongue. It’s his current thing and it annoys his sisters to death. The young’uns think differently though as they double over in laughter. 

“Eeewww!” She shrieks. “You’re so gross!”

“VICTORIA, PUT THAT BISCUIT TIN DOWN AND GET YOUR BUTT IN THE KITCHEN! AND GO GET THEM HAIR TIE THINGIES…” 

“I didn’t have any biscuits!” She yells and runs down the stairs.

This kid is the quintessential daddy’s girl. She climbs up onto my lap right away, handing me the brush and a hair tie. 

“See, poppet, I would’ve believed you if you didn’t leave evidence all over your face,” I arch one of my eyebrows as I sweep a speck of raspberry jam on the corner of her mouth. 

“You always do a ponytail,” she huffs.

“Either that or I give you a bowl cut with kitchen scissors. I reckon that fruit bowl will do. Your choice.”

“Can I have some more eggs?” George asks with his mouth full of his last bite.

“God, that’s like your third serving,” Eleanor grumbles.

“Nag.”

At that insult, Eleanor flings a piece of toast like a ninja. Before George can retaliate, my wife gives them both the look.

“Viv, will you at least have some eggs?”

“No.”

“Fine,” my wife sighs. “I’m gonna get changed then.”

I glance at the clock and, well, shit, I should get dressed too. “Can you lot watch the babies and try not to kill each other for the next five minutes?”

“Five quid each?” Eleanor tries to negotiate. “Babysitting isn’t supposed to be free, you know? That sounds like child labour to me.” 

Bollocks. 

“Two quid each,” I give her my dad look that says the offer is final and indisputable.

“Deal.”

[theroomofreq]

can you give me muggle jily recs pleaaseeee <3 :D

HOW MANY HIGH-QUALITY MUGGLE JILY FICS ARE THERE?? TOO MANY TO COUNT. *cracks knuckles* BUT I am here for the challenge. Jily AUs are my JAM.

Again, shoutout to our amazing @jilyarchive friends who tag every wonderful muggle jily au they come across. here is the link that will take you to their tags page. You'll find links to specific tropes and AUs :')

I've searched through my own AO3 bookmarks and history tabs, and I present to you 28 jily muggle fics that I LOVE. I am THRILLED thinking about all the good things in store for those that read these wonderful stories. This list took me ages to make because I went through and reread most of these brilliant fics. Happy reading !! xx

properly improper by @lizardcookie

“Marry me,” Mr. Potter repeats, closing the distance between them by striding back up towards the sofa, only to stop and crouch to one knee right there at her feet, looking up at her. Burning. “Pick me,” he elaborates. “Pick me, choose me, love me instead.”

- this fic is the reason why I comment the way that I do (spoiler it's because it's amazing)

The Wedding Ring by @mppmaraudergirl

What is undeniably worse than attending your sister's wedding looking as desolate and forgotten as a wilted houseplant? Drunkenly ringing your ex-boyfriend and asking him to be your date.

- SOBS UNCONTROLLABLY AT THE PERFECTION

Oh my god, they were ROOMMATES by @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world

Silly one-shot, Muggle AU with Fem!Jily as pining roommates and Marlene as their matchmaker.

- the fic that brought me back to jily and inspired my deep obsession of fem!jily

Swipe Right, Swing Left by @downn-in-flames

The unspoken rule of using dating apps in D.C. is that you always start with where you work.

James Potter, it seems, never picked up on that one.

- giddy just thinking about this gem

'Tis the Damn Season by @petalstofish

It doesn't feel like Christmas for Lily Evans, not after losing her parents to COVID before the Holiday season. She anticipates spending Christmas all alone until a boy from her past shows up and offers her a mutually benefiting deal that has her calling him 'babe' just for the weekend. 'Tis the damn season, after all.

- cries in respect for lyrical writing

Watch Me Unwind by @maraudersftw

Lily Evans hates her job, hates the bigoted customers she has to serve as a bartender at the richest club in the city. But the one person who makes bearing all of it worth it has someone else in his arms tonight. (Rated: M)

- obsessed with the way the plot jumps around the time line in this

oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic

Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.

- YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW FAB THIS IS

a matchmaking mission by @downn-in-flames

James Potter has a mission: get Sirius Black and Remus Lupin to finally admit that they both fancy the pants off each other by Valentine's Day.

His partner in crime? Lily Evans, Remus' flatmate, who he also happens to be slightly in love with

- DOUBLE the amount of pining idiots in love :")

about time by @jilyss

'sure, yeah, I can accompany you to that black tie event for your work tonight. wait. why are we on a red carpet?'

- this is my emotional comfort fic, your honor

whiskey business by @elanev91

Sirius Black has a (bad?) habit of picking up hobbies that take over his and James' flat -- this most recent one? Homemade vodka that James now has to try and peddle to everyone in the building.

- hysterical! must read!

Fashion Disaster by @maraudersftw

James Potter is roped into an awful dare by his best-mate, which involves him wearing atrocious pieces of clothing for all days until Christmas as dictated by Sirius. If this wasn't terrible enough, he now has to contend with his maddening crush on the beautiful saleswoman at the clothing store.

- classic hijinks that I live for

it wasn't a pity invite by @elanev91

Part of the December "Winter Tropes" Jily challenge. Prompt: my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and omG i’m so sorry

- awkward Christmas date that owns my heart

spice and honey by @clare-with-no-i

tagging along with her food reporter sister to profile James Potter, London's hottest young chef, is not how Lily Evans pictured her Monday going - especially if he's anything like Petunia’s described.

needless to say, she's in for a whirlwind at Chez Maraudeur.

- I'm one re-read away from printing this out and putting it on my bookshelf.

Waffle Wars by @elanev91

There's only one waffle maker in the dining hall and it literally always breaks. So, naturally, the only reasonable course of action is to meticulously map out when it's working and, ultimately, do a heist.

- the witty narration in this fic can not be matched

You Can Hear It In The Silence by @alrightginger

Lily is non-verbal and deaf in a world where the things your soulmate says about you end up written on your skin. She has known about her soulmate since she was seven, but knows they don't have a clue she exists and possibly never will.

- exquisite, cue me sobbing forever

out the window by @displayheartcode

A new family moves to Ottery St Catchpole.

- everything I could ever want in a fic, forever in my mind rent free

The Christmas Guest by @thegodmachine

An Evans Family Christmas: Petunia is bringing her fiancé and Lily is bringing her…Friend…

- petunia pov that gives me WINGS

Football, Calculus, and Cappuccinos by @moonawrites

At eighteen years old, James Potter has a lot going on. He's a rising star navigating the politics of professional football, the pitfalls of sudden fame, the fallout from choosing his dream over his father's company... and a serious crush on the red headed new barista at his favourite coffee shop.

- I'm still working my way through this fic, but trust me when I say its a GEM

if u like pina coladas by @zephyrcove

Lily is desperate for a date to Petunia's wedding, James has been pining, and their friends meddle ;)

- explain to me how characters can be so perfect via texting fics?

Shelf Awareness by @ghostofbambifanfiction

It's too far out of her way and she's wasting so much money, but Lily can't help but return to the bookstore every weekend, where her passion for good literature has, perhaps, been unexpectedly reignited by the messy-haired, pun-making, rather handsome bloke who works there.

- you absolutely must know that I binge read this and then immediately REREAD it

How to win a witch in 10 days by @adenei

“She’s going to find some unsuspecting wizard, get him to fall for her, and then do all the things that turn men away to get him to break things off! Won’t it be the best way to see what witches do that drives men crazy?” But what happens when the man in question is a blast from Lily Evans's past? A Jily Magical AU based on the romantic comedy "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

- fic based off of a rom com? YES PLZ :’)

The Fight Before Christmas by @ghostofbambifanfiction

The heartwarming Christmas tale of Lily Evans and James Potter - two plucky kids who hated one other, until the day they really, really didn't.

- complete sucker for this one

All This Time by @thejilyship

James and Lily grew up next door to one another. Their bedroom windows giving them glimpses into the others life, and also offering prime opportunities to argue with each other over every little thing. They never figured out how to be friends when they were kids, but now that they've graduated from college and are home for the summer, they have a second chance to get things right.

- one of my favvvv tropes

Let Me Love You by @thejilyship

With only a month until she's set to take the throne of Gryffindor, Lily is informed that she'll have to get married or choose to give up her throne. She never thought she'd have to even entertain the idea of an arranged marriage. Enter, James Potter.

- cries in princess diares AU

The Fabulous Baker Brothers by @frustratedpoetwrites

Lily walks a different route home from work and stumbles upon a cute little Bakery with an even cuter baker in the window.

- yes yes yes to embarrassed pining.

Marigold Mornings by @mppmaraudergirl

This is a fun game she thinks, as she removes her hand from his side and reaches up to run it down his chest.  He catches her hand in his own, takes a step forward so that her nose nearly brushes against his shirt. She can feel the heat radiating off of him—or maybe it’s from her. He licks his lips and her eyes are drawn to the motion.  She knows it is a bad idea, absolutely knows it.

- incredible storytelling featuring dynamic characters :') a favvv

Welcome to Pettyville by@women-inthe-sequel @alrightginger

When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?

- LOVE SQUARE ANYONE

The Kiss a Stranger Project by @alrightginger

“What’s your name, then?” she asks, realizing they haven’t even properly introduced themselves yet. She nervously crosses her arms.

You shouldn’t kiss a guy without knowing his name first.

Right?

- THIS ONE WILL LIVE IN MY MIND FOREVER

[gyllenhaalstories]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS — SUGAR DADDY!ZEMO

summary: a series of unfortunate (or fortunate, depending whose side you’re on) events brought you to mandripoor seven years ago. it was fun, dangerous and exciting for the most part. a lot has changed, but you are back in high town in the hope of purchasing a rare monet painting, and reuniting with an old flame.

warnings: tfatws spoilers, alcohol, established sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship, smut (daddy kink, dom/sub/switch dynamics, choking, hair pulling, blowjob, fingering, both degradation and praise kinks, spit kink, cum play, marking, unprotected sex). 18+ MINORS DON’T INTERACT.

word count: 2685

gif credit: pedropcl

notes: this (very long) fic is brought to you by zemo’s #1 hoe. for the sake of the fic, zemo’s daughter and wife have never existed. i get it zemo is the bad guy daniel is not your typical hottie but let me live my fantasy and reclaim my crown as the original zemo fan. listen to off to the races by lana del rey and let no man steal your thyme by the pentangle if you want to fibe with me! i hope you guys will enjoy it!!! <3

“If you keep staring at me like this, I’ll mistake you for the Mona Lisa.” You took the last sip from your glass, which was immediately filled by the man standing behind you. You had felt his familiar presence a long time ago, but you were too mesmerized by the rare painting trapped in a cage of glass to bother notifying him. “Your glance has followed me around the room. In other circumstances, I’d find it creepy. Now, it’s just very flattering.”

You heard him laugh through his nose. You saw his reflecting in the glass, lit up by flashing blue and pink lights and vibrating ever so slightly to the sound of the loud music.

“You’re like a Monet painting. From afar, you are clear as cristal and easy to read like an open book. From up close...” You marked a pause and stoodby straight. Your eyes never leaving the work of art you had been scrutinizing for the past hour. Water Lilies in Bloom, it was called, an incorrect translation that always brought a grin to your lips. “You are a mystery.” You swallowed thickly the bubbly liquid, recognizing the peculiar taste of champagne.

“It is arrogant but right to think of myself as the pure definition of mysterious.”

You chuckled, throwing your head back in disbelief. Some things never changed.

“After all these years... I managed to find my way back to you. Now that’s a mystery.”

You turned on your heels as you spoke. “Is it, though? Tell me, Daddy. Is it really that hard to believe you’d recognize your property even after all these years. I heard they put you in a pretty little cage. Didn’t have much else to think about than what you missed most?”

He took you in, just how ethereal you looked under the colourful neon lights. You had your arms pressed against your chest, the shiny material of your matching bracelet and necklace twinkled. He squinted slightly, his lips curled into a smirk while he looked down your body, the one thing that kept him sane after all these years in jail (that and the thought of destroying symbols like super soldiers and make the world a better place once and for all). “Nice dress.”

“My Sugar Daddy got it for me.” You did a twirl, showing off your outfit innocently. “You like it?”

He reached up to his neck and pulled on the collar of his purple sweater, like it was a tie he could loosen up. “So you received everything I sent you.”

You clicked your tongue. “Not everything...” Your head turned to look behind you, where your most priced possession was glowing in its full glory — soon to-be yours, you should say.

“Use your words, Princess. Say it and it’s yours.”

It was your turn to analyze him, to take every ounce of cockiness and pride. “You’re playing with fire.” You walked closer to him, erasing the distance but increasing the tension between the two of you. “All the money in the world won’t get you everything you want.”

He was quick to move, his soldiers instincts never left his body, clearly. His delicate hand wrapped around your throat so effortlessly. It tightened, forcing you to manage your breathing. “Money got me everything I wanted already.”

“What is it, Daddy? What is it that you want so badly?” You clenched your jaw, holding his glance which was filled with lust, instead of rage and grudges.

“You never looked so beautiful.” He leaned closer too, whispering the words to your ear. It was liked the loud club music turned into white noise. He could not care less about the stares and the words strangers exchanged as they witnessed the scene. High Town was not his playground.

But you were his plaything.

*~*~*

History repeated itself, in one way or another. Icons rose and fell. Symbols mattered and vanished into oblivion. Originality turned into plagiarism. Winners would lose it all, losers would dig their graves deeper into the abyss.

History repeated itself. The sight before your eyes was the same one as seven years ago, when all that was on this man’s life before meeting you was this stupid Mission Report of December 16 1991. You met him at a party like this, in High Town before he was banned from the land. He caught your attention doing his ridiculous dance moves, sharing his knowledge about the art pieces showcased around the room. Then he brought you to a hotel, the ones so fancy they had multiple rooms and a vintage record player as part of the decor. Only, it worked, and he put on his favourite Édith Piaf records. Rien de Rien, Le Petit Homme, La Vie en Rose, song after song, you were diving deeper in your memories.. He was popping yet another bottle of champagne open and pouring some in flutes you would never touch for the rest of the night. The same night, seven years ago, it changed your life. At the second you regretted setting foot in Mandripoor, he changed your mind and gave you the best months of your life. You would ride around Europe in vintage cars, dine in gigantic mansions you called castles. You admired the old paintings of his royal family members while he brought you a silk bathrobe to change into after a steamy shower.

You’d get lost in your thoughts, he’d get lost in his ambitions. You two were one and the same, in one way or another. That affirmation sent shivers down your spine. You could not tell if it was a good or a bad thing, a shy voice in your head was reassuring you it was the former.

“They call me Baron again, I guess I’m not doing too bad after all.” His voice snapped you back to reality. He was still wearing that obnoxious trench coat. You hated it, it made him look like a pimp. Although that was not too far from the truth, as the mountain of luxurious jewelry and clothes in your closet proved.

“Do you like being back here?”

“I love it here.” The emphasis on the last word was audible. You nodded in agreement. This place was heaven on Earth for some people, hell for others. For both you and Zemo, it was somewhere in between.

“You’re certainly not here for me.” You laughed, setting the still full glass on the nightstand.

He shook his head, mouthing a negative response.

“What is it, this time? Mission report February 32?”

“Something like that.” He answered, after another silent laugh.

“If only you had made me your mission, your life would have been easier.”

“Yours would have been, too.”

You shrugged. You agreed, but you did not need to say it. He knew. The two of you knew that this warmth washing over your bodies was the answer to all of your problems. Yet, you were fighting the urge to surrender and give in.

History always repeated itself.

All it took was for him to set his hand on your exposed knee. You got flashbacks of the numerous times his hand rested there while you two drove deeper in the country side, in some old Chevrolet, Ford, or any other European brands he could find and buy.

“Say it, Princess. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallowed thickly and fell on your knees. He sat straight, as straight as he could on the comfortable mattress, and spread his legs wider. “I want to go back in time.”

He leaned foward and you opened your mouth, your tongue poking out. He spit in your mouth, and you swallowed. The giggle that followed your actions sent blood to his hardening cock. “Just as eager as I remembered, right? You’d do anything to please me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Daddy.” You repeated, the confession left you breathless.

“That’s my good girl.” He brushed your hair with so much tenderness for a moment, you let out a content moan. He changed the mood real quick when he pushed your head closer to his crotch and unbuckled his belt at lightning’s speed.

Your mouth was watering at the sight, a sight that was tattooed in your memory forever. Whatever relationship you two had went beyond fancy presents and sex, it was a connection that tickled your souls and left you a different woman than when it first started. You wasted no time, stroking him a few times as you spit on his blushing tip. You smeared the spit over his sensitive spot and pulled the sweetest moans out of him, which grew louder and more intense when you finally wrapped your lips around his head.

No one compared to you, to your attention to details, to the way you were taking him all in, inches by inches like you were made for his cock and his cock only. No one compared to how blissful you looked pulling back, choking on your own saliva and the lack of oxygen. “You look so beautiful, Babygirl.”

His praise made you bat your eyes, hoping to receive more compliments. You flattened your tongue, licking him from the base to the top before you deep throated his cock again. You never left him untouched, your hands were massaging his walls or exploring his thick thighs while your mouth almost brought him to the edge.

That was when he pulled on your hair and demanded you went back up on your feet. “I bet you’re soaked. All you need is to see a cock to wet your panties.” You nodded as one hand reached up to cup your face, the other to cup your core from under your dress. He could felt the ever growing wet patch. He discarded of your panties in one effortless pull and pressed his pointer and middle fingers against your sensitive clit. He circled it, studying your reaction.

“Daddy...” You breathed out. “I need you.”

“I’m proud of you for using your words,” his finger slipped inside of your entrance, you moaned out his name. “So greedy and needy and easy for me, like the good whore that you are. Is that right? You’re Daddy’s perfect little whore?”

He was two fingers in, all the way to the last knuckles. He pumped in and out of you slowly yet roughly. You smirked when he finally touched that spongy spot inside of you. “I’m Daddy’s. I’ll always belong to Daddy.”

“That’s right.”

He brushed his thumb over your clit, his fingers stopped fucking your hole to abuse the bundle of nerves until tears started to pool in your eyes.

“Be a good baby.” You looked at him with doe eyes, sucking his thumb between your plump lips. “Do what I want.”

And you reached your high. You had nothing to hold you up, except for your shaky legs that threatened to give in under your weight and the intensity of your orgasm. You sucked on his thumb harder, hoping to quiet some of your moans but your screams escaped your parted lips.

In a blink of an eye, you were pushed against the bed and bounced against the body that blocked your every movement. His pants were nowhere to be found, just like the rest of your respective clothes. Your finger tips brushed over the skin of his shaven cheeks, down to his neck and chest. The intimacy, you had craved it all these years.

“I bet that sweet cunt of yours missed my cock.” He spoke, chuckling mockingly when he pushed himself in your stretched hole. You both let out a long moan of satisfaction. He rested inside of you, adjusting to your warmth and tightness. “I was right.”

“You’re always right.” You flattered his ego, and earned a sloppy kiss in return.

His lips moved down to your neck where he sucked hickeys and left small bite marks as he picked up the pace of his hips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping to bring him that much closer, and deeper, into you.

Zemo pinned your wrists above your head and pumped his cock inside of your tight pussy like his life depended on it. “So fucking wet for me,  gonna make me cum, Baby.” He had tried so hard to hold back, not to mark you and claim you again.

“Wait for me.” You begged him, and he brought one hand down to your neck again. He squeezed it, choking you deliciously until your eyes rolled inwards. He tightened his grip ever so slightly and he felt it, he felt the way your walls fluttered around him.

He thrusted inside of you, his hips snapped against yours and the sound of your skin slapping echoed in the bedroom. “Cum for me, Princess. Cum with Daddy.”

And you did, your body exploded in fireworks when you felt his release planted inside of you. He kept moving, rocking back and forth. He leaned back, leaving your neck to rub your clit once again. He was a moaning mess, the overstimulation made it almost painful to keep going but he did not want it to stop, not until...

“Fuck, Daddy!” And a second wave of pleasure hit you hard, it left you panting and shaking even more than before.

Zemo had to pull away quickly, and already missed the feeling of being inside of you.

Your fingers reached between your bodies, dipping into your folds and moving up to your lips as they were covered in his seed. You painted your lips with his white cum, before you licked them and your fingers clean as he watched, completely amazed and mesmerized. “Taste just as good as I remembered.”

He laughed, he was always one step ahead of everything and everyone, but you always managed to take him by surprise. You were just that great, that perfect. He rolled to the side and fell heavily on the bed. His skin was glistening under the light of the chandeliers from the thin layer of sweat.

You pressed your legs together, clenching around nothing. You hoped you could keep his load inside of you, as a proof this had really happened and it was not just one of your daydreams where you two would be reunited.

“I missed this.” You boke the silence with a small voice. Your fingers brushed over the bruises on your neck, and you hissed at the sensitive skin.

He turned on his side, worried for a second that he went too hard on you. The smile and joy on your face proved him otherwise. “I missed you, Princess.”

“I missed you so much, Daddy.”

*~*~*

The sun hurt your eyes, he noticed. He slipped out of the bed to pull on the curtains only to hurry back to you so you could lay your head on his chest. You were still wearing your bracelet, he started playing with it.

His mind was racing, just like his heart. You could feel it rumble in his chest like a loud engine. Something was bothering him.

“Oh, Zemo...” You caressed his cheek, looking up to study his features. “You can fool the smartest people in the world, but you’ll never be able to lie to me.”

“I’m coming home, Baby. I’m coming home now.”

You looked down again, taking a moment to answer. “Let me guess, you’ll take me to a fancy house like Rebecca’s Manderley and Jane Eyre’s manor at the Rochester’s. You’ll show me around, make me feel like I belong. And you’ll leave, high and dry. Again. All the money and presents from your people won’t erase the pain I felt. Not this time, not ever.”

He pressed his thin lips together. Pain, suffering, he was used to it. He had his fair share of it, caused even more to other people. The thought of hurting you, however, was unbearable.

“Every kingdom needs its king...” He paused and moved you, so you were resting on your elbows and your face was closer to his. “And an even greater queen.”

[chiliiscereal]

I hate you

Daryl’s adopted daughter

Chapter 1

Summary: Diana is a girl on the run in the apocalypse. Her past chases her no matter where she goes. One day, by chance, she meets Daryl Dixon. Thinking she’s a walker, he shoots her and brings her back to their camp. Shane strikes a deal with her: she has to stay for two weeks before she can decide if she wants to stay. But Diana is determined to keep her past in the past, and never make the same mistake again

Season 1 - I’m not sure yet

—————

Diana sat in a circle with her family. Blood dripped down her neck from her lips.

Everything was red.

 Red

       Red

 Red

How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly?

Her eyes never left the blond man she once knew. She watched him as her fury and fear grew louder and louder, echoing off her skull.

That was, until Negan stepped out of the van. He walked about the circle, until his eyes landed on her.

"Fancy seein' you again, Darlin'."

                               ————————

    Rick stumbled into the street, a hospital gown draping his skin. He knew there was something wrong. There was something off. Maybe it was intuition...

  Or maybe it was the woman, chopped in half, chomping her teeth to get at his ankles.

    He rubbed his eyes, the sun glaring right into his vision. It had been a week and a half since the start, and a day since his IV ran dry. It had been even longer since he last saw the sun.

   Where was everyone?

 Why hadn't he waken up to nurses and doctors?

  Or his family's familiar faces?

  He spotted bodies. Bodies walking. Maybe three.

  He couldn't understand... he couldn't understand any of it...

  The light off a gun reflected into his eyes. He blocked it and moved to see where it was coming from.

  The revolver was placed in the holster on the side of a walker. The man... or whatever he was now... shuffled toward Rick.

 He was deathly pale.

  "Sir," Rick's voice cracked, "sir, are you okay?" He held his hand out, trying to make it a comforting gesture to someone possibly in need.

  Edging closer, the man stared at him with hungry dead eyes. His clothes were torn and draped off his skinny frame, his eyes laid sunken in his face.

   "Sir?" He asked again, stumbling back.

   The man growled and advanced further.

   "Are you-?"

   With a blur, the man was down.

  Nearly tripping over his own feet, Rick let out a horrified gasp.

  On the ground was a little girl, around Carl's age, placing her knife in the mans forehead. Her light blond hair, tucked under her baseball cap, clung to her dirty face. The crunch echoed in Ricks head, reverberating off his skull.

 That was the first walker he had ever seen killed.

  She quickly wiped her knife on the walkers shirt and snatched his revolver. She opened the back to check how much ammo was left. Satisfied, she clicked it shut and began patting the double dead man down.

  "W-why did you do that?" Rick found his voice again.

  She leaped back, her bright blue eyes finding his.

   Quickly, she pulled herself up and began to dash away. If Rick hadn't lunged out and caught the back of her shirt she would have disappeared as soon as she apparated into his line of sight.

  "No. You can't leave yet." He spun her around to face him. It was evident how terrified she was. Especially with her eyes as wide as dinner plates and hands clawing at his arm. "Why did you kill that man?"

  She glared at him and wriggled harder. "Man?" She gasped, "that... that wasn't a man!" Her hands fought to unclamp Ricks grip. "That's a Walker! He would have eaten you if I hadn't stopped him!" She grunted with effort. "Didn't even see you. You already look dead."

  "What do you mean by dead?" Rick questioned, holding tighter.

  "Gone. Deceased. vamosed. Perished." With each word she struggled. "Now let me go!"

  Rick was about to question again, when he felt the stitches on his side rip. With a grunt, he let her go and fell to the ground. His hand cupped his side.

  "Please.." he stopped to breathe heavily as the girl watched him warily. "I don't know what's happening. I woke up in the- in the hospital." He glanced down at his side to eye the bleeding. "The sun will be setting soon... and I need help."

The girl glanced at the lowering sun. Tapping her foot, she glowered at the ground. "How can I trust you." It wasn't a question. It was as if she was challenging him to be wrong.

Rick attempted to stand, only to find himself back in the ground. "I was a cop. My job was to protect the people. ALL people. And I like to think I did a good job of that."

She stuck the revolver in her holster (which was clearly stolen based on how big it was). "Prove it."

"I don't have my badge or my hat. That's at my house. But I'm officer Rick Grimes. I've been on the force for seven years. My partner was Shane Walsh. I was in my car when we got a call about a run away car. I was shot in action and hospitalized." His eyes seemed to beg her to help him.

Diana tried to fight the raging war in her head.

She knew better.

She knew to trust no one.

Her father and mother both betrayed her trust.

Why trust again?

But... she could tell when people were lying. All people have tells. Her fathers tell was him avoiding eye contact. He always looked at the ground. For her mother, she always played with her wedding ring.

But this Cop... sheriff... man... was not lying.

He looked her dead in the eye.

"Fine. Come with me." She hadn't known that she was gripping her new revolver until she released it. "I have a place in the sewers. I know... in most movies that's where walkers would be. But how would someone get down there in the first place? You'd have to move the lid." She walked over to Rick and slung his arm over her shoulder to help him stand in any way. "And most walkers," she grunted "are pretty stupid."

"Thank you...for helping me." Rick stated gratefully.

"I have some house rules, you know."

"Name them." He said confidently as they shuffled down the street.

"One: you're gone when you can walk."

"You don't want someone to watch your back?" Rick was surprised. Usually, kids jumped at the chance for safety. The ones he has worked with in cases of violence had immediately decided he was trustworthy.

"the worlds changed. You can't trust people." He noted the grim expression on her face. He wanted to ask why, but he figured it was better to stay silent.

"I'd argue about that, but I'll hear out your other rules." He wrapped his arm around his side again, fingering the broken stitches.

"Two: you do as I say or you die."

"Yes ma'am."

Rick couldn't help but like her spunk. She was serious, but it wasn't much of a threat coming from an eleven year old girl.

"3: ..." she started only to trail off.

"...3?"

She cleared her throat and resituated Ricks arm. "You repay my kindness if we ever cross paths again. I don't care how."

"Was already planning on it." He grinned. He could feel the conversation beginning to die, so he started it back up again. "What's your name, kid?"

She hesitated, eyes staying on the road. "Diana." She spoke softly. "My mother named me after the Roman goddess of the night."

Rick smiled. "Pretty name."

Diana's thoughts drifted to her mother. Her mother with her honey brown hair and warm chocolate eyes. She stopped her thoughts there. "Well... what about you, officer friendly? You got a name?"

Rick laughed. "My names Rick Grimes. I ain't named after the moon goddess, but I think it has a nice ring to it. Don't you?"

She forced down a smile. "Pretty name."

He chuckled. "Well, Diana, I am glad I ran into you."

~~~~~

They arrived at the sewer lid.

"Here we are. I've been camped out here since early yesterday morning." She slipped under Ricks arm and got down to lift the lid. With a couple tries, and an offer from Rick for assistance, she lifted the lid.

She stood up and dusted off her hands. "I'll go down first and scope out the area. Need to make sure it's still clear. Then I'll help you down."

She began her descent.

Rick watched the top of her light haired head fade into the darkness with each step. He briefly thought she would try and make a run for it. Escape through the sewers.

He immediately dismissed it. Why would she waste daylight by helping him? The sound of her footsteps hitting the water at the bottom and echoing as she walked down the tunnels set him on edge.

Especially when they began to fade.

He sat patiently for over ten minutes, watching the sunlight tick by. He looked down into the darkness, listening for any sound. There was nothing... not even a whisper.

Maybe she did leave.

"Alright, Sheriff, get down here! It's clear!" Her voice reverberated loudly from the tunnels so suddenly, that Rick stumbled back.

"I don't have all day! Unless you wanted to be walker chow, get down here!"

Rick chuckled as he began to shuffle his way down the tunnel.

"Any day now, Deputy Fossil!" She shouted.

"Hold your horses, kid." He slowly lowered himself into the dark. He looked down to see where his feet were going to land, spotting the flashlight that Diana held. Her light hazel eyes reflected impatience.

"Nice place." He said, clearly biting back his truth.

"Don't be fake." She said as she kicked at the water. "It smells like a pig ate dirty gym socks, farted, and died."

"I was trying to spare your feelings."

"Don't bother. I'm leaving this place as soon as you're ready."

Rick finally landed on the bottom of the sewer. "You got a place you're headed to?"

Diana shook her head. "No. Just a place I never want to see again."

Rick stopped moving to look at her. "Troubled home life?"

She thought about it and shrugged. "I guess you could call it troubled home life. It was home once. But this apocalypse changes people."

"I'm sorry kid."

"Don't be. That's just life."

Rick opened his mouth to say more, but Diana beat him to it.  

  "Alright, lets move." She motioned for him to follow.

           The place she had holed up in was dryer than most spaces. There were a couple of dirty blankets placed on the ground and a first aid kit. Some batteries were sprinkled on top.

     "You can sit there. I can stitch you back up." Diana pointed at the wall. Their part of the sewer was a dead end so they wouldn't be surprised.

     "Thank you."

Diana hadn't stitched wounds before, but she did well enough.

 Rick tried starting a conversation again but she told him she needed silence to focus.

                                         ~~~~

    "Are you sure you want to travel by yourself?"

  Diana nodded as she packed her things. "Very sure. You're nice and all, but you don't want to travel with me."

 The Georgia sun had risen already and they both were preparing for departure in the street

   "Do you have any family to find?" Rick questioned.

"I already know where they are. And they don't want me either." The girl looked down, avoiding eye contact.

"If we ever meet again, you better give me more details." Rick narrowed his eyes and pointed at her. "I deserve to know more about the little girl who saved me."

"Once a cop always a cop I guess." Diana said slyly. She looked back at him. "What about you? Any family?"

 She eyed a walker down the street but decided it was too far away to pursue.

"I got a son and a wife. My son's your age actually. 11." Rick looked through the neighborhoods. "I don't know where they are, but I'll protect them. They need me."

Diana squinted in the direction he was looking at, seeing nothing. "You'll find them, chief." She patted his shoulder, having to reach up very high.

"It was nice to meet you, Diana." Rick said, a little sad that they were parting. Possibly that he would no longer have company. Maybe that he didn't have enough time to get to know her well. "I don't know if I'll see you again, but you helped me without anything to gain."

Diana scoffed. "I'm not a good kid."

"You're right."

Diana looked up, confused.

"You're one of the best."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Go. You have people to find."

"From the looks of thangs, so do you."

"I don't have people."

"You'll find them. Just a matter of where and when." He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

She placed a brown bag in his hand instead. "It's for the road. There's batteries, water, a flashlight, food, bandages, antibiotics, and one more thing..." she unbuckled her holster and handed it to him, along with the revolver. "You need these more than I do."

Rick tried to push it back to the little girl. "No I can't take this. You need it."

"No, you do. You're gonna help people, Rick. You're gonna help so many. You gotta find your people." She pushed it back to him. "I'm gonna be fine. I spotted a gun down the road that I'm gonna check out later."

Rick gave her a solemn look before accepting it. "If you can, head to Atlanta. The CDC is near there and there's bound to be survivors."

"I don't need survivors."she rolled her eyes.

"They may need you, kid. Ever think about that?"

She stayed silent for a moment. "Stay safe, sherif fun sponge." She shook his hand, even though he hadn't offered it yet. "I hope we meet again."

"We will." He smiled. "I don't know how or when, but we will. I have a debt to pay."

She wanted to return the smile but couldn't. "I hope you find them."

"You to."

With that, they went separate ways.

Next fifty chapters posted on noandisaidno on wattpad!

[emo-and-confused]

Headcannons based on @cb28 ‘s “ceo of many hotels tommy and hotel receptionist tubbo” au art (includes dysfunctional sleepy bois) (awesamdad)

-techno, wilbur, and tommy are phil’s kids

-(the three kids are adopted, techno was adopted when he was five, wilbur was adopted when he was four, and tommy was adopted when he was seven)

-techno is older than wilbur by two years and wilbur is older than tommy by eight years

-phil is this rich businessman. techno is some powerful leader. wilbur is a famous songwriter.

-then tommy owns a hotel

-he's still like 16/17 but he owns and manages it

-techno is the oldest therefore favorite and heir to whatever money and property phil owns

-tommy is least favorite. phil ignored him.

-then one day phil just gave him money and said "stop being a disappointment" so he started his hotel at 15

tommy: i’m going to build a hotel in rage

-then best friend tubbo who works there and is nice to tommy

phil: oh, theseus, my son. come, i was just telling my companions about your ho- who is that?

tommy: this is tubbo.

tubbo: hello :)

-wilbur being the normal brother and treating him like a normal person and taking him and tubbo to hang out and be kids

wilbur: tommy, let’s go get ice cream

tommy: wilbur, ive got things to do, paper work and, and shippments and-

wilbur: tommy.

tommy:

wilbur: let’s go. bring tubbo.

-tommy feels like he has to prove something to phil

-he also feels like he might be able to earn attention from him. that if he works hard enough phil will be proud of him

-wilbur’s music is what makes phil pay attention to him, but when he was a kid phil said his music was never going to be a stable source of income and actively encouraged other future job choices. this only made wilbur more focused on his music

-both tommy and wilbur feel the need to prove themselves

-tommy meets sam when starting up his hotel, and immediately gets attached

-sam is basically his guide, even after building the hotel. sam saw the child and went “yeah he needs parental guidance” and continued to stay in contact with tommy

-tommy is the one who gives sam the creeper mask. because sam is always working on construction and stuff and he's always inhaling debris and tommy likes minecraft so he gives it to him. sam adores it and wears it all the time.

-tommy totally calls him sam nook

sam: hey tommy! just building your hotel. i do need some more things for construction though... could you ship them over to me?

tommy: y'know this reminds me of a game my brother made me play over the holidays...

sam: ... uh,,,, what?

tommy: animal crossing! that's it. you're totally tom nook.

sam: alright, tommy.

-[over emails]

]Mr. Danger Careful Innit,

Could you supply more building materials?

Sincerely, Sam Nook

]Mr. Samuel Nook,

sure.

Sincerely, Tommy

-sam gets a very official hand written contract (the same one as the lore)

-he gets it and just goes with it (there’s a more real contract but tommy values his handwritten one more)

-sam signing it and tommy cheering and immediately going to text phil

sam: and... there you go! signed. :)

tommy: really??? ... YES!!! LETS GO!!! (calls phil and tells him)

-then tommy hanging up and smiling, then looking back over to sam.

tommmy: (clears his throat) um. my apologies. that was very unprofessional. thank you very much, sam.

-tubbo is the receptionist for the main hotel in the chain, (the one tommy is constantly at) but he basically becomes sort of a manager

-tommy sends him off to do multiple jobs throughout the day, and tubbo does them with only little complaint

tubbo: you know i’m not room service right?

tommy: i don’t remember asking

tubbo, already holding the room order: this isn’t my job tho-

tommy: and yet here you are, doing the job

-tommy pays him more than everyone else though, but tubbo doesn’t know that because tommy won’t let him see the usual staff paycheck

-tubbo is half a year older but his parents are constantly away on buisness trips so he is often home alone and has to take care of himself

-tommy is not good with showing his affection, the only one in his family to do so was wilbur. phil just kind of threw money at him on holidays and ignored him the rest of the time, and while techno was a lot more attentive to him, he wasn’t the best at affection either

-when tommy started making money with the hotel, (how very successful hotel chain), to show tubbo he cared he just started offering to buy him things

tommy, upon finding out tubbo likes bees: you know i could buy you a bee sanctuary if you’d like?

tubbo: tommy no-

-tubbo teaches him that money isn’t the only form of showing you care. it’s a long process

tommy: so you’re saying i shouldn’t buy sam a private engineering lab for his birthday?

tubbo: i know for a fact sam wouldn’t know how to accept such a gift and that he’d rather you close the hotel for a day and take him to play laser tag

tommy: ...okay but what if i do that and buy him a private engineering lab?

tubbo:

-the dream team are bell hoppers.

-tommy gets hate for being that young and successful

-the dream team are like “stfu i'm proud to be working for a very successful 16 yo how dare you" and go off on every rich person who says something about tommy’s age

they're still streamers. they just don't tell tommy. (tommy totally knows tho, he’s a 16 year old kid who plays minecraft and animal crossing, ofc he knows they’re video game streamers)

dream: hey tommy-

tommy: yes? is there a reason you're barging into my office?

dream: .. is that... animal crossing music? are you playing on a switch?

tommy: no!! i'm signing very important and legal documents!!! if you have nothing to say, get out!!

dream, to sapnap and george: he’s totally playing animal crossing.

-tommy makes them greet people at the doors and carry peoples bags purely because they’re famous. they don’t know this though

-they don't think tommy knows. tommy and tubbo think it’s hilarious. tommy hints it all the time that he knows but they just think he's being a kid

-quackity is on sam’s building/contracting team

-even after the hotel is built, q comes in to "check up" on the building with sam. and they "make sure nothing is going wrong with the building"

-they really just want to make sure tommy is okay under so much pressure

-wilbur totally has tubbo’s schedule and knows when tubbo’s on break, he can usually be found with tommy in tommy’s office

-wilbur will just barge in and be like “okay let’s go, you need a break”

-one time wilbur came in while sam and quackity were there

wilbur, barging in: kay, tommy, tubbo, let’s-

sam, mid lecture with tommy: you can’t keep doing this!

quackity, also scolding: you need to take a break, man.

tubbo, who noticed wilbur come in: wil! tell tommy he needs to go to bed and sleep! he hasn’t slept in twenty seven hours!

tommy, from his desk, with his head in his hands and leaning over paper work: i’m being ganged up on.

-wilbur instantly likes sam and quackity, because they care for his little brother (he totally has a rivalry with them though, he was there first, and tommy’s actual brother)

-the main hotel in the chain is sometimes used as an international meeting place for big companies and politicians

-more than once has phil or techno needed to stay for a few nights due to major meetings with powerful people

-it’s kind of awkward sometimes because tommy’s the hotel chain owner and since he’s based at the main hotel, he sometimes needs to greet the people going in for meetings

tommy: good afternoon, madam secretary

tommy: good afternoon, mister minister

tommy: good afternoon... *awkward cough* ...technoblade.

-or since he’s the ceo of a big name company, he sometimes has to attend big rich people galas that he hates

tommy: tubbo i literally hate these types of places, when can i leave, when am i allowed to to leave

tubbo, who is tommy’s plus one and moral support: dude i don’t know, i didn’t grow up rich

tommy, who grew up talking care of himself when wilbur wasn’t there: yeah well technically neither did i!

-and his father is a business man..

tommy, faking confidence and striding across the room: tubbo, i have no idea what i’m doing-

phil, from a table a few feet away, calling him over: theseus!

tommy, slowly turning around to see phil with a bunch of other rich people: fuckkkk-

-tommy makes sure everyone calls him tommy and not theseus

[in an interview]

interviewer: so theseus-

tommy: it's tommy.

interviewer: ... alright, tommy. would you like to address the rumors going around of your boyfriend?

tommy: huh??? oh, you mean tubbo? no, we're just best friends. and that's weird. i'm a minor.

interviewer: are you gay, though? we've never seen you date any women.

tommy: no, i do date women! all the time!!

-tommy being legally named "theseus watson" but calling himself "tommy innit"

-wilbur is legally “wilbur watson” but only ever goes by his stage name “wilbur soot”

-they both totally end up changing their names. legally.

-tommy saying i hate men because he just hates his father

-tommy getting scandals and controversies all the time but just by the upper class

-everyone else loves and adores him and knows he's literally just a 16 yo kid so that kind of stuff is a joke and he can say that without getting in trouble

-tommy will be in his office and tubbo will be at the front desk and sometimes tommy will just yell “TUBBOOOOO HELP MEEEEE” if his laptop crashes because Tubbo Tech

tommy: [during a meeting] oh, tubbo's clocked in for work.... TUBBOOO!

tommy: he's gonna come in here. surely. he'll go "hellœ?" surely. he'll walk in here...

tubbo: [walks in the room] hellœ?

-phil still has no idea who tubbo is

wilbur: yeah, i’m going to go check on tommy and tubbo

phil: ..the receptionist?

wilbur: ...

wilbur, internally: also your sons best friend but yeah sure, the receptionist.

-techno is lowkey fond of tubbo

-techno notices how tommy is clinging to tubbo at parties and galas all the time so he tries to get tommy to talk about him

-he likes that tubbo is there for tommy and totally resonates with the chaotic energy the two create

-sometimes when tommy can’t get tubbo in to the parties/galas, and techno is there, tommy will hang around him and steal his things

-like taking his wallet so techno will have to go back to the hotel afterwards and visit tommy

-he does it for attention. 

-tommy lives at the hotel. it’s not technically legal cause he wasn’t emancipated from his family and he’s only 16 but they’re rich so people don’t really say anything

-technically he still has a room at phil’s place, but he stays in a room at the hotel. when designing the place, he made sure to map out an area for his living space

-tubbo takes naps in his room

tubbo: i'm gonna go take a nap in the break room

quackity: there is no break room??

tubbo: yea there is. on the top floor. with the giant door.

quackity:... isn't that tommy's room???

-tubbo sometimes stays the night with tommy, when his parents have been on a business trip for over two weeks. he still goes to in-person school so he usually only stays on weekends during the school year

-tommy does online school, and forces himself to get his schoolwork for the week done over the weekend so he can focus on the hotel and other responsibilities

-he fakes having the “lmao i'm better and have more money also you don't play minecraft" mentality towards other kids and claims that’s why he does online

-it’s actually because he doesn’t have time to balance everything and he was bullied in the past so he switched to online school as soon as he started his hotel

-sometimes tubbo helps him with his classes tommy is overworked. like, in his off time. he has the passwords to tommy's computer so he just goes on it and does some of his school work

-tommy ranting to tubbo about how he hates his dad and how he said phil was gonna visit him the next day

-phil arriving and asking tubbo (because he's the receptionist) where tommy is. tubbo saying he doesn't know and that he left. even though tommy is literally in his room

-phil tries. he just doesn’t know how to parent. techno was 17 and wilbur was 15 when he adopted tommy, and he just got busy enough and forgot how to take care of a child

-tommy knows if he talks to phil, it’ll be awkward and phil will just try and buy him off (not intentionally, it’s just how business men be working, yknow)

-tommy just wants to prove himself, to both himself and phil. and hes using his hotel to do that

———————

fanart that was posted with @cb28 ‘s work

(i got permission to post this)

[headheartbellarke]

HOME | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by anon:  "Hi! If request are open can you do a charlie imagine where him and the reader (she/her) met on a project a while back and have been friends for a while, but the reader kinda had a crappy home life so she gets overwhelmed by charlies family being so loving and perfect and she basically breaks down and feels like she doesn’t fit in and isn’t good enough for him? please and thank you so much, ur writing is amazing!!!"

PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x fem! reader

WARNING(s): mentions of abuse, trauma, anxiety, angst, fluff

WORDS: 2,036

SUMMARY: charlie takes co-star and girlfriend y/n home for christmas but that leads to self doubt in her (im so bad at these) [note: this takes place in 2021]

    As Charlie pulls out the key from the ignition, I sigh, wringing my hands nervously. He unbuckles his seatbelt and faces me, giving me a bright, happy smile.

  “My family is so excited to meet you.” He says, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “What if they hate me?” I whisper.

  My boyfriend, Charlie, and I first met on the set of Charmed – we were both in the first episode, but I left it after that due to scheduling conflicts with my other show, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. I had been a part of CAOS since its first episode – I played the role of Sabrina’s cousin, Sarah Spellman.

  Back then, we were just friends. After I left Charmed, we would text and call each other occasionally. Whenever we were in the same city, we would meet up – but that was hard considering we both had quite different lives. So, we didn’t think of each other as more than friends – sure I thought that he was attractive, but that’s it.

  But, in 2020, after CAOS was cancelled, I got a call from the casting director of Julie and The Phantoms: she was the one who had previously cast me in CAOS, and she believed that I’d be perfect for the role of Julie’s British cousin who joins her school after her parents relocate to LA – I also play Reggie’s love interest.

  I texted Charlie immediately after my manager finalized all the details for the new role. He had been excited and when shooting started in 2021, we were pretty inseparable.

  After a few weeks, I had developed a major crush on him ad the rest of the cast had also picked up on that. They were also convinced that Charlie liked me (which I didn’t believe at that time but later found out that it was, indeed, true) and they used to tease us about it all the time. Finally, a couple weeks before production ended, he asked me out on a date and it’s been really, really great so far.

  We’ve been dating for about nine months now and honestly, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s my home – all my life I’ve always felt lost, but I feel like I truly belong with him.

  Now, he laughs. “Baby. I promise you – they already love you. My mother’s been bugging me to bring you home ever since we started dating, and you’ve already met Megan, and she loves you.”

  “If you say so.” I say, still not convinced.

  He grins and we get out of his car and face his childhood home. I take a deep breath, shaking off my nerves. He knocks three times on the front door, and it opens immediately after.

  A petite, blonde woman steps out, with a wide smile on her face. She opens her arms as Charlie yells, “Mamacita!”

  “Mon chéri. Ça fait trop longtemps!”

  “Je vous ai manqué!”

  I have absolutely no idea what they are saying, but the scene in front of me is so heart-warming. Charlie’s mother is genuinely happy to see her son – one can tell by the way she’s holding him, almost like he’s a little child. Charlie is quite a couple inches taller than her, but he’s nestled his face into her shoulder.

  I can’t stop a grin from breaking out on my face. It’s honestly rather lovely. But I also feel a slight pang in my heart knowing that no one ever greets me like this when I go home.

  They separate from each other and she squeezes his shoulders, looking at him with so much love that I have to look away. I have never seen a mother look at their child like that, with such intense love. That’s dumb, I know. Mothers are supposed to love their children. But all my mother ever looks at me with is disappointment, anger, disgust, and – you get it.

  She notices me next and claps her hands. “You must be Y/N!”

  “Hi, Mrs. Gillespie. It’s so nice to meet you!” I extend a hand toward her.

  “Aw, come here! You’re gorgeous.”

  She pulls me in for a hug too, and for a moment I’m engulfed by the smell of white musk and the feeling of warmth.

  We pull apart and I smile at her, genuinely. All my anxiety has washed away.

  “My son is always talking about you, about how pretty you are and –”

  “Let’s go inside!” Charlie quickly cuts her off, eyes widened as I laugh.

  “But I wanna know what he says!”

  Mrs Gillespie winks at me as Charlie turns scarlet. “I’ll tell you when he’s gone.”

***

    Another roar of laughter erupts around the dinner table.

  Honestly, I’ve never seen a family like this – a family so connected, so loving. All of Charlie’s siblings – from his three older brothers to his little sister are here for Christmas Eve, and all of them are teasing each other, telling childhood stories, and just having the best time. I was, too. That was until I suddenly realized how I don’t fit in here.

  Everyone here grew up completely different than I did. When I was young, about two years old – my dad left my mom and I for another woman. I haven’t seen him since – although, he sends me a postcard and some money on holidays and birthdays. He’s travelling around the world with his new wife and is apparently ‘happier than he’s ever been.’

  The reason he left is because kids ‘freak’ him out and he isn’t ‘ready’ for that kind of responsibility. I mean, it wasn’t like he was fifteen when he had me: he was twenty-seven, and already married to my mother for about two years then.

  Naturally, my mother blames me for her divorce. I was born out of an accidental pregnancy, so my mother made sure to remind me every day that I was unwanted, and my birth was what ‘pushed’ him to leave us. Every single day, my mother told me that I shouldn’t have been born, that I was a mistake, that I was worthless, unlovable and so, so many more horrible things. She used to drink like crazy, and if I accidentally faced her in that state, she would sometimes hit me.

  Years and years of abuse and all that childhood trauma led me to develop a fear of abandonment, trust issues, intimacy issues, anxiety, and depression. Throughout school, I had been closed off, unable to form relationships and friendships with other people. I had feared anything and everything – I couldn’t even maintain eye contact with people.

  Of course, when I auditioned for CAOS and moved away to LA, away from that toxic environment, I got help and turned my life around. (My mother was incredibly happy to see me go since she had married another guy and now has a family with him – so I was the only thing left that reminded her of my father.) I learnt to accept, prioritize, and love myself – but I’m still working on that, of course.

  But, I know, deep down, no matter how well I am, or how happy I am – there will always be a part of me that’s broken. I’ve grown to accept that, accept the fact that I’ll always carry the trauma with me.

  But Charlie doesn’t. He’s lived a good life, and he deserves someone who can give him their everything – and that’s not me.

  As much as I hate to say it, I’m not good enough for him.

  He senses a change in my demeanour and squeezes my hand under the table. I give him a weak smile.

***

    “Y/N/N, what’s wrong?”

  I look up at my boyfriend. He has a look of concern on his face as he takes a seat next to me on the couch.

  I sigh into the quiet. Everyone has fallen asleep, except Charlie and I – we are seated in his living room in front of the fireplace.

  “Nothing. I’m just really tired.”

  “That’s not true, Y/N. You were fine throughout dinner – oh my god, it’s the ice cream, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “The pistachio ice cream that Maman made. It was weirdly bitter, eh? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

  I purse my lips. “No, Charlie. The ice cream was great.”

  “Are you sure? You’ve been down since desert.”

  “It’s not the ice cream, babe.”

  “Okay, then, what is it?”

  He looks at me expectantly, and I can sense that he’s feeling anxious.

  “I just – I realized that I don’t fit in.”

  He furrows his brows, but before he can say anything, I start speaking again. “Charlie, you have such a loving and perfect family. And you know how I grew up. What I went through. So, you know that I’m not used to this. I’m not – I’ve never seen love like this in a family, you know. And I don’t fit in here! While your mother was being so nice to me, I kept wondering when she’s going to scream at me. Or when your father was genuinely interested in me, I kept thinking that maybe he’s trying to find a way to get rid of me. It’s just – it’s just the way I grew up, and I’ll always be like this, Char. Your family is so nice, and it shocks me, honestly. And I think that maybe it’s better if you date someone who grew up the way you did, someone who’s like you. Because I have been broken my whole life, and I don’t think that I can give you everything that you need. I don’t think I’m good enough for you. You’re the best person that I’ve ever met, and I think you should be with someone who’s worthy of you.”

  I whisper the last part, and feel a teardrop fall into the space between my collarbones. I look down because I’m too afraid of what he might say.

  I hear him breathe out heavily and I feel him take my hands in his.

  “Don’t you ever say that.”

  “But it’s true –”

  “Y/N. Don’t you dare doubt yourself. You are good enough. No, you’re perfect. You’re the strongest woman I know. I completely understand why you feel what you’re feeling right now.”

  He scoots closer to me and cups my cheeks in his hands. “And it’s okay. It’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to feel shocked. That doesn’t make you a bad person, nor does it make you not good enough. In fact, it makes all the stronger – you went through so much as a kid, and still, you have space in your heart for me. You know, I never doubt the fact that you love me, ever. Because you always make me feel special, make me feel good about myself and always make sure that I’m happy. You always go out of your way to take care of me, and you always make me feel at home. I don’t want anyone other than you. I love you so much and I never, ever wanna lose you.”

  I think I’m fully crying now, as Charlie continues, “It’s okay to feel that way. Take your time. But I’m never leaving you. You’re my person, and you’ll always fit in with me, baby. Always.”

  “Charlie…”

  I look at him properly, and I can see the pain in his eyes as a tear traces along the curve of his cheek. He sniffs, saying, “I’m sorry. I just can’t imagine being with anyone other than you.”

  “Why are you so good to me?” I whisper, my throat still tight from the emotions.

  “Because you deserve someone good, and I can only hope that I’m good for you.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his shoulder as a sob escapes my body. “I’m so sorry, baby. So, so sorry.” I keep whispering that, while he rubs my back, saying ‘it’s okay.’

  “I love you so much, Charlie. Honestly, thanks for being so good to me. You have no idea what you mean to me.”

  I can feel him smile as he says, “I think I have a pretty good idea, yeah.”

***

jatp requests are open <3

[tennessoui]

40 or 43 if you’re still taking prompts! i love ur AUs they’re so beautiful and contain so much brilliance within a short snippet!

it's been so long, anon, you probably forgot you sent this but here is prompt 40, exes meeting after not seeing each other for a long time. in true tennessoui fashion, they don't. actually. meet and/or see each other in this snippet. also in true tennessoui fashion, all tennessoui needs to decide to continue this is one (1) validation.

the backstory here is something i have been thinking about for days after a discord convo, where during the fight on mustafar, obi-wan hits anakin hard enough in the head that he loses all of his memories. obi-wan takes him with him for a few months but the wounds of Order 66 and vaderkin's role in what happened is too fresh for obi-wan to (understandably) get over, even if this anakin doesn't remember doing it, so they separate. this is set 8 years after Mustafar.

(1.7k)

“Kenobi won’t come,” the fighter pilot says immediately upon disembarking from his craft.

One commander lets out a groan. Someone else hits the durasteel side of the closest x-wing with a closed fist.

“Do we really need him?” Anakin demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s been eight years since the rise of the Empire. Surely a washed-up Jedi General from the Clone Wars won’t have people jumping to join the Rebellion!”

No one meets his eye. In fact, the air room suddenly feels very, very uncomfortable.

Organa exhales heavily and turns to look at Anakin, which is rare because the man never voluntarily looks at Anakin. “There are few names from that time that still carry an untainted weight in the eyes of the galaxy. Obi-Wan Kenobi is one of them.”

“I grew up hearing about The Team!” A teenager says eagerly. “I’d join any resistance movement if I knew both of ‘em were fighting with me!”

“You’re already a part of a resistance movement,” a girl next to him pointed out waspishly.

The boy waves her off. “Skywalker and Kenobi, saving the galaxy! It’d be wizard to be a part of that, and you know it, Aasha!”

Anakin’s throat tightens at that name. Skywalker. His name. Or, his old name. He has no more connection to it now than he does to the name Kenobi or Organa. They’re just letters.

He catches Organa’s eye. The man is looking at him with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Anakin knows instinctively that this is another one of the man’s tests. Will this time be the time that whatever injury has kept his memories suppressed for eight years is undone, and his previous life comes thundering through his mind?

He’s sick of these tests. He’s never failed one, but Organa never comes closer to trusting him afterward. He can only assume that whatever Anakin Skywalker had done in his last few days alive had been so terrible that only a few people knew the truth, and those who did would never forgive any version of him for it.

Organa certainly knew, though he had never shared that information with Anakin. And.

And Kenobi did as well. That was clear. They’d only been together for five standard months, sharing a small spacecraft made smaller by the fear, agony, grief, fury, and hurt radiating off of his companion into the space around them.

It had been hard to tell at the time if one of the things Obi-Wan Kenobi had been grieving was the loss of Anakin Skywalker. Anakin isn’t sure Kenobi would have been able to answer that either.

Some part of him that usually rests dormant in the back of his mind stirs and hisses that it had to have been. That Skywalker’s loss had torn Kenobi’s soul to shreds.

This doesn’t necessarily feel like his own thought, but it’s quite hard to ignore. He wants to rub a hand against his aching head, but that surely would tip off Organa that something’s--what? That he’s having thoughts?

Perish the very idea.

One would think Anakin hadn’t joined the Rebellion of his own free will. That Anakin hadn’t spent three standard months on the planet Kenobi had left him on before catching wind of the existence of the Rebel Alliance, that he hadn’t risked life and limb (more limb, apparently, given his missing flesh hand) to find them afterwards. He hadn’t known much anything about himself, but he had known that he hadn’t liked what the Imperial troops were doing, how much destruction they were causing, how the people they were supposed to be protecting hid in fear of their white armor.

Something in Anakin had rebelled at that, had thought it wrong and twisted. Someone needs to stop them, he’d thought. So he had found the people that were trying to.

And yes, a small part of him had thought--perhaps hoped--that Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a part of the Rebel Alliance by the time Anakin made his way to their biggest base. He had thought--perhaps hoped--that he would be able to prove himself to the other man. Look, he had wanted to scream at Kenobi, I’m not like that other Anakin, I would never do what he did. You can trust me. You can look me in the eye, I won’t stab you in the back.

Because something in him had yearned, still yearns, for Kenobi’s approval. For the weight of his gaze settling warmly around his shoulders. For his small smiles, his calloused hand clasping the back of Anakin’s head to bring their foreheads together in a gentle tap hello.

These are things Anakin knows he’s never experienced. But he must have in his past life, because his whole body will ache for them like a phantom limb. It’s been seven years and a few months since he last saw Kenobi.

“I’ll go,” Anakin says, which is what he said the last time they were standing like this, huddled around a fighter pilot delivering the same message of failure.

Organa’s mouth tightens in displeasure, and Mothma places a hand on his arm in warning.

Everyone else falls silent around them, as if recognizing the fact that they’re in the middle of a brewing storm, and they’re lucky to be in its eye right now.

“I do not think--” Organa starts, but Anakin cuts him off, crossing his arms even tighter over his chest, as if to hold himself back. The force suppression collar around his neck grows warmer, but it holds. It always holds.

“You’re already sending men who look like me to him!” Anakin points out irately. “The last four men could have been related to me!” It’s something Anakin’s thought about in the past but never said out loud. He’s glad to say it now though, especially because Organa flushes a bit which means Anakin’s right. “Just send me! If it doesn’t work, nothing in the galaxy will!”

Now, Anakin isn’t sure that’s true at all. He’s taking a huge leap with this, but it’s been seven years and a few months since he saw Obi-Wan Kenobi in person, and every part of him is aching with the desire to lay eyes on the man again. Will he hate him still? Will he see all the differences Anakin’s made to his appearance? Will he like them? He fights the urge to run a hand over his shorn hair.

Will Obi-Wan even let him through the door?

The people around them are murmuring now. They don’t know what Organa knows, what Anakin has guessed at: that Skywalker died a traitor to the Republic, that he had tried to strike down Obi-Wan like the Emperor struck down the rest of the Jedi. To them, these fortunate outsiders, they’re wondering why Anakin Skywalker hasn’t already been sent to locate and bring back their errant General.

Before, Anakin’s offer had been quiet, easily ignored over someone else’s. Now he’s loud and confident. Impossible to turn away without making a public scene, without explaining why. And Organa has tried very hard not to do that. For whatever reason, Anakin doesn’t know. All he knows is that after he’d been examined by a battalion of med droids and interrogated by all three leaders of the Rebellion, Organa had given him a list of rules he had to follow in order to join the Rebel Alliance. Firstly, never remove his cuffs and collar.

It’s not a slave collar and it won’t electrocute you if you touch it or try to take it off, Organa had told him when he’d blanched away at the sight. But I have been informed by a trusted ally that the Chance--the Emperor knows your Force Signature intimately. We cannot risk being found. It would kill all hope for us.

Secondly, never confirm his identity. Never talk about who he used to be.

People will know, Organa had grudgingly admitted. Skywalker was one of the faces of the Clone Wars. But you cannot confirm it. In fact.

Thirdly, give up the name Skywalker. Pick another last name, if not first as well.

But Anakin had been attached to his first name for some reason he didn’t know how to begin to question, so even after he toyed with the idea of changing it completely, he couldn’t go through with it. Weeks later he had shown up in Organa’s makeshift office.

I had a mother, didn’t I? He had asked, causing Organa to stiffen immediately.

Do you remember? Organa had interrogated immediately, his standard greeting for Anakin. Anakin had gotten the feeling, especially in those early days, that Organa was waiting with baited breath for Anakin to remember so he could try him for war crimes or treason or whatever it was that Skywalker had done.

No, he had responded honestly. Just a feeling. If I am to take a new last name, I want her name.

A few days later, Anakin had stumbled into his bunk, tired from a day of hard training, to see a packet of documents on his pillow.

Anakin Shmison was written at the top of the first page.

The list of rules goes on and on.

But nowhere does it say that Anakin Shmison isn’t allowed to mention Obi-Wan Kenobi in public. He just never has, because even the sound of the man’s name makes him feel very nauseous, a combination of butterflies and adder snakes wrestling around inside his stomach.

Bail Organa is looking like he’s regretting that oversight right now, but Anakin has backed him quite solidly into a proverbial corner. Either finally tell everyone what happened between Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi in the last few hours of the Republic, or give Anakin Shmison leave to retrieve Kenobi.

“Fine,” Organa gets out, jaw locked and vein throbbing in his temple. Anakin has the distinct feeling he’se spent a lot of his life on the receiving end of that expression. “Have this X-Wing refueled, and leave tonight.”

“No sir,” Anakin says, enjoying the way one of the man’s eyebrows shoot up in angry incredulity.

“No?” Organa asks. “Would you like more beauty rest, perhaps, Shmison?”

“No sir, I don’t need it,” this time he doesn’t resist running a hand through his hair, messing with its part so his longer bangs fall to one side and balance out the mysterious scar that bisects his eyebrow. He grins. “But I will need a craft that sits two. For the return trip.”

[littlemisslipbalm]

“I am not going to join your band”

Summary: You’re longtime best friends with Mitch Rowland and you’re in love with him. When he starts working with Harry you tag along and watch as Mitch falls in love with Sarah. But Harry watches them too and you realize you have each other. 

A/N: Why is this lowkey a Mitch fanfic at the beginning OMG - i didn’t mean for it to be like that but it kind of reads that way. I will definitely be doing a part 2 I just wanted to kind of set the stage for what is to come (likely another three part kind of thing). NOT (really) PROOFREAD AND FEEDBACK MUCH APPRECIATED (I love hearing from you)

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, otherwise this is just HS1 Studio FLUFF

Part 2

---

All your life had been exceptionally boring. And you had no complaints. You were from a family with two parents, two siblings, and a pet. You went to public school and performed well, but never excelled in anything because you didn’t care to. You chose to go to college just an hour away from your hometown, a small liberal arts school. Your life was, by all accounts, average. You weren’t super popular and you weren’t bullied excessively around town. You just existed there.

The only thing, or person, rather, in your life that you really thought made it exceptional was Mitch. Mitch grew up next door to you when you were kids, he was a few years older but he didn’t mind hanging with you. You eventually became best friends and did everything together. Sneaking in through his window to play with his pet lizard when you were seven. Sneaking out with him to drive around in his car and drink stolen alcohol when you were sixteen. You did everything with Mitch. You thought he was your soulmate. While he was quiet with others and that sometimes freaked them out, you either enjoyed the silence or got to see his truly imaginative and beautiful personality.

Mitch was a musician all his life and you sat with him when he learned to play on his thrifted first ever guitar and attended every one of his high school rock band’s shows, even if that meant sneaking into a bar at fourteen.  

Staying close to home wasn’t hard because that’s where Mitch was. Even if nothing ever had even remotely happened between you and Mitch, you held out hope. He had thought about it just once, if neither of you found anyone else it might be nice to have a family together, but he had dismissed it quickly. Mitch saw you as a little sister and loved having you as his best friend who he could tell anything to, but it was never going to be anything more for him.

So there you and Mitch were, living your little lives in Middle America, nothing to your names, but some average education, affordable apartments, and going-nowhere jobs. That is, until one day Mitch’s roommate called him up to ask if he could come play guitar for some musician’s album he was working on. The musician’s guitarist had called in sick and Mitch’s roommate had volunteered Mitch for the job. That’s when Mitch’s life changed, but what about yours?

It was heading into the second week of Mitch working on the musician’s album, who you had found out to be the famous Harry Styles. Mitch had come home after the first day and called you to come over. When you arrived, he told you how Harry and him had gotten along so well and Harry had invited him to keep coming back and playing on the album. You had never seen Mitch so excited and you were happy for him. You couldn’t help the twinge in your heart though when he kept bringing up someone named ‘Sarah’. She was apparently the drummer and had been very nice to Mitch, as well.

Now Mitch had this whole other life and you were sat there like what the hell am I supposed to do now? Then on that Saturday evening, after a long day in the studio for Mitch, he had come over to watch a movie and unwind with you, he asked if you wanted to tag along to the studio with him on Monday and see how it’s going. He was always telling you how cool everything was and you were quick to jump at the chance to both hang out with Mitch and see him doing what he loved.

On Monday, Mitch picked you up and drove you to the studio. When you got inside the building you were already amazed. The place was small, but so incredibly cool to you. You had never been to a real recording studio before and one of the things you and Mitch loved to do together was music - listening to it, playing it, buying it, so this was an unforgettable experience. Mitch walked through one of the bigger studios doors and the two of you entered the part of the studio that was where all the soundboards and tech was.

Harry, the man who had practically fallen in love with Mitch as well, was inside the room already. He turned to Mitch and beamed his large smile, his teeth a shiny white. You could tell why everyone in the world was in love with Harry just from that smile, it was truly an ‘award-winning smile’. “Mitch!” he exclaimed and gave him a tight hug. Mitch only smiled softly. When Harry pulled back his eyes flitted over to your figure standing just slightly behind Mitch. “You’ve brought a friend ‘round, that is so lovely!” he first said to Mitch and then turned back to you, “What is your name, love?” You extended your hand and said your name, Harry only glanced at your hand and then pulled you into a hug as well, a slightly less exuberant hug, but a hug nonetheless. You loved Mitch, but you didn’t understand how this bright and bubbly man had warmed up so quickly to Mitch’s quiet and solemn exterior.

Harry looked at Mitch with something in his eye you couldn’t quite place after the three of you chatted for awhile. “Well, you’re very lucky to have this man in your life, Y/N, he’s one of the best guitarists I’ve ever met, like, holy fuck, he is good.” You smiled at his praise for Mitch, and glanced adoringly at Mitch. Mitch only ducked his head at Harry’s enthusiastic praise. Whatever reasons Harry had for adoring Mitch, you were pretty sure it meant Mitch’s chance to get out of his old life, including you.  

Then, it was time for them to get to work. Harry and Mitch had already written one song together, or at least Mitch had helped Harry to finish it. Today, Harry wanted the band to play it for the first time all together. Harry had told you to make yourself comfortable on the couch in the soundboard room. You watched as the band set up all of their equipment and you felt your ears burn when you saw Mitch talk to the woman you identified as Sarah. You didn’t want to be jealous, you hated feeling possessive over a man that you weren’t even with, but you just felt like you were watching Mitch slip from your life more and more as every moment passed.

The band started playing the opening chords of what Harry had called Woman when he said into his microphone, “Take 1...of many for Woman.” You smiled as you watched Mitch get into his guitar playing for the song, he sounded amazing. But as much as you liked to watch Mitch play, you couldn’t help but stare at Harry when he began to sing. He was talented, beyond talented, his voice sounded angelic to you. He grooved a bit to the instruments as he sang the lyrics. It was a beautiful song, you thought, wishing you could have someone write a song like that about you.  

As the song reached over half way through, Mitch breaks into a rad guitar solo and for the first time since Harry began singing you looked back over to Mitch. That was kind of where the song ended, there was just a final time when Harry proclaims “Woman!” and it ends. You weren’t sure if it was normal to stand and applaud after a studio recording session, but you did anyway. You jumped up and down a little and clapped. The entire band smiled back at you and Harry leaned into the microphone, “Y/N, why don’t you come in here and join us?” You happily agreed and went into the adjoined room.

Harry told everyone to take a breather for about five, so the band was drinking water and chatting. When you got there you immediately belinned to Mitch and began to gush over how much you loved his solo and his playing throughout. Mitch talked in hushed tones back to you, saying where he thought he might speed up or slow down at parts. You didn’t notice Harry had walked up behind you and you jumped a bit at his voice. “Didn’t mean to give you a fright, love. How’d you think it sounded?” Harry inquired. You tilted your head to look up at him, while Mitch was perched on an amp, Harry stood tall beside you. “It was lovely, the lyrics were epic and I loved the beat of it. I was just telling Mitch how amazing his guitar solo was…” your cheeks brightening when you mentioned Mitch. Harry had some knowing smile again.

“You’ll have to thank Sarah for delivering that beat, however, Mitch and I wrote those lyrics,” Harry continued the conversation with you. You couldn’t believe how normal he was for being a world famous singer and boy band member - just a year ago. One Direction was a huge deal, yet here Harry was asking you how you’d liked the song  and talking to you like you knew a thing or two about music. You and Harry talked about the song for a bit more, Mitch staying silent for almost the entirety of the conversation, you noticed his eyes wandered over to Sarah who was talking to Adam, the bassist. Then, it was time for Harry to listen to the song when the tech crew came back. When he did, he made notes for both the band and the tech crew and everyone got back to work. On the third go around of the song, you decided you were done giving them a round of applause.

They worked on Woman for half the day. When lunch time rolled around, Harry decided he was happy with how the song sounded, ‘good for now’ was all he said, obviously still not satisfied with how it sounded. During lunch you sat beside Mitch and across from Harry. The more you got to know Harry, the more you liked him. He was very playful and free spirited, but also took his passion very seriously and was endlessly grateful for the opportunities he had been given. As you warmed up to Harry, you noticed Mitch being a bit more animated. Had he been keeping his guard up because he wasn’t sure if you and Harry would get along?

There was still sometime before the break ended, but everyone had finished eating. You excused yourself to the bathroom, but when you came back, you saw Mitch occupied with Sarah. You looked helplessly on as he smiled and laughed with her. You felt left out as you really didn’t know anyone else but Mitch there. Sure you had gotten to know Harry a bit, but he was a rockstar and a guy you barely knew, you couldn’t just go up to him and ask to become your new best friend. Harry noticed you standing alone and walked up behind you, this time knowing to tap your shoulder to make you aware of his presence. You turned around at the touch you felt on your right shoulder, you were greeted with Harry’s bright eyes and soft smile. “Do you play any instruments?” Harry asked you. That’s random. “Eh, I can play some piano and guitar. I love piano, but I don’t keep up with it as much as I should.” “Well, you should keep coming here with Mitch. You could get some practice in, we’ve got a piano here somewhere,” Harry said as he raised his head and started to look dramatically around the room. “‘S right behind you,” you smiled at the man who had given Mitch a chance and now seemed to be giving you a chance, too. Harry whipped his head around, “Ahh…Well I’ll make sure it’s tuned for you for tomorrow.” You thanked him and the two of you began chatting about Harry’s visions for the album.

Three Weeks Later

“I am not joining your band, Harry, I’m not even that good of a piano player!” You threw your hands up. “Will you hush? You’re amazing, quit denying it,” Harry grinned as he pinned your arms down to your sides and flipped you around, “Now play exactly what you showed me earlier.” He marched you to the piano and plopped you into the accompanying stool. You huffed a sigh and placed your fingers on the keys. “You don’t even have piano on all-” “Ap, bahp, bahp! Plaayyy…” Harry cut you off and then added, “Please?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Such a baby.

You had been coming with Mitch to the studio for almost a month now. After your first day, Harry had retuned the idle piano for you and you had messed around with it when they weren’t recording. You and Harry had become closer over the time, he realized you were almost the female version of Mitch, but slightly less shy and slightly more opinionated. And you had realized that Harry was the kindest man you knew, only after Mitch. Mitch and Sarah had also become closer in the past three weeks. As much as it pained you to watch, you could never look away. The band and you started to go out every night and every night Mitch and Sarah always ended up sitting apart from everyone else wrapped in their own world. It hurt your heart so much, but you pushed through, happy to be around all the amazing people you had gotten to know. As well, whenever you were left alone, Harry always seemed to pop up, chatting about what was next for the album and what you had been doing on the piano earlier in the day.

Today, you had sought out Harry, wanting to show him something you’d been playing with since yesterday. When he heard what you played he brought up something he had mentioned a couple weeks ago, that you had thought was a joke, he wanted you to join the band - to play keys. You laughed it off, but Harry persisted. Now he was having you play the little random piece you had made up for everyone: the band and the crew. Your stomach was doing flips and your heart was in your throat. This was one of the main reasons you didn’t think you could be in Harry’s band, anxiety. It was minor, but you definitely had some - if your nerves in your physical body and your thoughts in your brain were any indication.

Finally, you began to play. It was the tune of what would become Sweet Creature. When you finished the early sound of it, there was silence. Sarah was the first to clap and then everyone followed quickly after. You ducked your head down and then looked up again with a smile on your face. It widened when you looked over at Harry and Mitch right by your side. You had never had people saying something of yours was great. Harry and Mitch stayed in the studio room with you, excited at the new prospect of a song. The album had reached a roadblock a couple days ago. Harry wasn’t liking any of the songs they were making and he was struggling to write any new ones. This, your art, was a breakthrough. After you had played, Mitch picked up one of the acoustic guitars laying around and began to play the same tune on the strings. Harry began to hum along. They twiddled with your tune a bit, but eventually they had to let it go for the time being. Lunch had ended and they still had to keep working on the other unfinished songs.

-

[missdawnandherdusk]

Beautifully Beastly

Reader X Draco

Summary: It’s over ten years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and you stumble upon an old classmate and his son. Soon you find yourself in a large house, tutoring a young protege, and acquiring feelings for his father...? 

A/n: Okay, so this is the cutest thing in the world. I changed cannon of course, but isn’t that the point of fanfiction? Anyway, I know I tortured you guys with the last chapter of my Hufflepuff!Reader series, so here’s a cute one shot with a brooding older Draco and a lively Scorpius who just wants to learn everything. I love you guys so so much, let me know what you think!!

“Draco? Draco Malfoy?” I asked, pausing at the park bench.

The same white blond hair was not longer and tied back at the nape of his neck. I would have mistaken him as Lucius if I didn’t linger. He had grown into his features, his eyes still the same piercing blue. It had to have been maybe ten years since I had seen Draco last. They were memories I didn’t dwell on often.

“Y/n,” Recognition flirted across his face. “What... what are you doing here?” 

“It’s a park?” A smile found its way to my lips. “I come here to clear my head,” 

He nodded, as if in understanding.

“So, what are you doing here?” I mused.

“I’m here with my son,”

“Son?” I was surprised. “I didn’t know you had a kid,” my eyes scanned the park and narrowed in on a little boy with white blond hair. “Should have known though,” I smiled. “His mother?” I sat on the opposite side of the bench.

“Died when he was seven months,” His eyes stayed on his son’s playful form in the distance.

“Sorry,” I offered, wrapped my arms around my midriff.

“It’s fine,” His lips pressed into a tight line, letting me know that it was not fine.

“I hear you’re a Head Auror,” I tried to keep pleasant conversation. “Brought in a lot of his followers,”

He didn’t comment. His jaw clenched and he kept a cool mask on his features. He clenched his left fist and drew it to himself almost defensively. I heard a lot of other things about Draco as well over the years. It was hard to escape the politics and news of the Wizarding World, but I knew Draco better than a news article, even if I hadn’t seen him in a decade—which spoke to how much the papers knew.

“Where did you end up?” He asked finally.

“Um, well, I’m a writer. Historian.” I clarified. “It’s been a lot of work lately trying to get everything written correctly. So many biased petty people wanting to get their two cents in,” I scoffed, my thoughts drawing to Skeeter, who still wouldn’t retire.

“Historian?” He mused. “So, you’re well versed in a lot of topics then?”

“I guess, yeah. McGonagall sent me a letter not too long ago asking me to come and teach. I... I couldn’t bear to think going back...” I looked down at my hands. “That place still haunts me.”

“Are you for hire though?”

That caught my attention.

“Hire?” I pressed, my brows quirking together.

“Private tutor, for Scorpius.” Draco nodded towards his son. “I’ve been looking for someone to come and start his schooling.”

“You want me to tutor your son?” I asked, quite shocked.

“You’d have lodging at the Manor, and all the books and supplies you needed, as well as a salary,”

I gaped at him. “Okay...?” I finally got out.

It took about a week, but soon I was moved into the Manor with access to the library wing, and the rest of the house as I pleased. The house elves had orders to answer to me as if I was there mistress—even though I hated the notion and protested.

Scorpius was hesitant around me for a few days, until he caught me practicing spells. He was delighted to see even a bit of magic, and I wondered if Draco ever did magic in front of his song. Draco gave me a vague outline of what he wanted me to cover with Scorpius, leaving a lot of it up to me. Which was for better or worse, the best mistake he could have made.

Draco seemed to realize that when he came home one evening and Scorpius and I were in the front lawn, covered in bowtruckles. The little boy was laughing joyously, playing with the small plant creatures. Draco started to yell, but seeing his son laugh, he paused and gave me a cold look before heading inside. I rolled my eyes at him and brought Scorpius inside to wash up for dinner.

“If you have something to say to me,” I baited, leaning against his study door jam.

“No,” He said curtly, his back to me as he leaned against his desk. “He should be well versed in herbology,”

I made an exasperated gesture and let it drop.

A few months passed, and I spent the days teaching Scorpius anything and everything. I had the weekends off, but still didn’t mind taking the young Malfoy to the park or lake or wherever else he wanted to go. Sometimes Draco accompanied us, sometimes he’d be gone weeks on end on a case. In those long periods of time I did my best to keep Scorpius happy. I taught him how to bake cookies and other sweets. I read to him bedtime stories, both muggle and wizarding—after getting a pinky promise from Scorpius that he wouldn’t tell his father.

There were some nights that Draco and I spent together, not intentionally. But he’d be in the library, reading from a pile of large old books, and I’d flit around, finding the material I wanted. Sometimes I’d ask him for a certain book, and he’d raise the one in his hands. It was always left on my desk in the morning.

A few nights I’d find him asleep in his large chair, the book that was in his lap fallen onto the floor. I’d pick up the book and drape an afghan around his shoulders. Neither of us mentioned it.

We shared tea and coffee in the early mornings before he was off to work and I had been up all night reading, our internal clocks aligning for no more than a quarter hour.

After seeing Scorpius to bed, one night in late November, I retired to my own room, picking up my book, continuing to read. The hours slipped away, and I was forced to stop reading and turn in for the night. It was a silent night... almost.

My eyelashes flickered open at the nudging on my arm. I met a teary eyed blond little boy.

“M-miss Y/n? I-I had a nightmare and d-dad’s not h-home,” He hiccupped, trying to hold back further tears.

I was immediately alert and awake, a gentle smile on my face. The light from the hall softly lit the room. I scooched back in the bed and held up the covers.

“Well, come on,” I encouraged. “It’s alright,”

Scorpius hurried under the duvet and curled up to my side without hesitation. My arms draped around him and my hands stoked his hair softly. I had no idea what I was doing, but it seemed to calm the young Malfoy.

“Nightmares, huh?” I asked softly and he nodded into my shoulder. “Can I tell you a secret?” Starling blue eyes met mine shining with tears and hope.

“There’s a way to beat nightmares,” I smiled widely and pulled my wand from under the pillow. “It’s called a Patronus,”

With practiced movements I casted the charm and a silvery ferret emerged from my wand. My eyebrows furrowed. The last time I casted the charm, it was a housecat. The ferret, however, bounced around in the air, circling around the room before hovering in front of Scorpius.

“You have a Patronus, Scorpius,” I let the charm fall, tucking my wand back away. “And it’s always protecting you,”

“But I can’t do magic,” The little boy pouted. “I don’t even have a wand.”

“A Patronus isn’t cast by a wand,” I watched confusion fall upon his face. “It lives inside you, in your happiest memories. And it always protects you.”

The little boy nodded, and I went back to stroking his hair softly. 

“I miss daddy,” He mumbled.

“I know sweetheart,” I sighed softly. “But he’s out there protecting you too. He takes down bad wizards who want to hurt you and everyone else,”

“People say that daddy is a bad wizard,” Scorpius was almost scared to say it.

I took a sharp breath in and exhaled slowly.

“I grew up with your dad,” I told him, rubbing his back. “And he made some... difficult choices. We all did. His choices didn’t work out so well, and people hold it against him. But we were just kids,” I sighed softly thinking of my last few years at Hogwarts. “I should have done something...” Shaking the thought I looked back down to Scorpius. “But your daddy loves you. So much Scorpius, and though it may not seem like it, you’re his entire world.”

He nodded into my shoulder again, and I pulled the covers around him. His eyes had a hard time staying open. I smiled, running my fingers through his hair still. Humming an old lullaby, we were both calmed to sleep.

“Scorpius!?” A harsh worried voice called.

My hand went to my wand as I cradled Scorpius protectively watching Draco burst in through the door. We both seemed to relax at the sight of the other. Scorpius stirred in my arms, blinking up at me sleepily.

“Nightmare?” Draco asked softly, kneeling beside my bed, reaching out to stroke his son’s head.

I nodded and uncurled my arms from around him, letting him cling to his father, he was now wrapped up in Draco’s arms. Draco disappeared from the room for a few minutes then returned. I sat up, turning on the lamp.

“I’m sorry about that,” Draco looked at the floor. “He’s been having a hard time lately.” 

I nodded. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” There was a weight in Draco’s eyes.

“Dray,” I called. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, long day, that’s all,” He rubbed his face. “One too many hexes... we got him though,”

“That’s good,” There was a silence that hung around us.

“How did you get him to calm down?” Draco asked, changing the topic. “It takes me at least an hour,”

“Patronus Charm,” I smiled. “And an old muggle lullaby,” I tacked on.

“Are you contaminating my son with muggle things?” The words were harsh, but there was a smile at Draco’s lips.

“A bit,” I smiled back. “He loves you Draco,” I confessed to my duvet after a moment.

He nodded and leaned against the door jam, his eyes slipping closed. I called his name and his eyes snapped back open. He grumbled a goodnight and lumber down the hall. I shrugged mentally and spent the next hour staring at the ceiling trying to figure out why my Patronus had changed all of a sudden.

It was a few nights later and I was awoken again, this time by muffled screams and cries. I sprang from my bed, wand in hand, Lighting Charm casted as I tore down the hall. The sounds were coming from Draco’s room. I barged in and saw him thrashing on the bed.

Nightmares must have been a commonality in the Malfoy household.

“Draco!” I called, setting down my wand and shaking his shoulder. “Draco! Wake up!”

His eyes didn’t flash open. He didn’t seem to notice me.

“Daddy?” A small voice called from the door.

“Scorpius go get me a glass of water, please,” I threw the task at the young boy to get him out of the room. He scurried off.

“Come on, Draco,” I whispered, throwing back the sheets. “You can beat this,”

Grabbing my wand, I went through a mental list of spells that might wake him up, but I took the notion after dealing with Scorpius’ nightmares and casted my Patronus. The ferret instantly soared towards Draco, diving into his chest and disappearing. I stared, awaiting.

“Draco?” I asked again, sitting beside him on the bed. Hesitantly, I reached out and took his hand. “Please wake up Draco,” I pleaded softly. “It’s just a dream,”

Blue eyes flashed open and wrestled me to the ground, wand under my throat, a wild look in his eyes. I raised my hands in surrender, raising my eyebrows at him.

“It’s me,” I soothed. “It’s just me,”

Draco groaned and released me, rubbing his face. He sat on the floor, leaning against the bed frame. I sat next to him. We didn’t say anything. There wasn’t much to say. The patter of little feat had us both looking at Scorpius enter the room, glass of water in his shaking hands. He offered it to me, and I passed it to Draco who downed it instantly.

“Are you okay daddy?” Scorpius asked meekly.

“Yeah, I’m okay bud,” He nodded. “Just a dream,”

“Don’t you have a Patronus like Miss Y/n? She says it protects you from nightmares,”

“It’s okay sweetheart,” I smiled tiredly. “I let him use mine tonight,” Standing, I lifted the little boy into my arms. “Let’s get back to bed, huh?”

It took a while, but Scorpius did finally settle down enough for me to feel comfortable to leave him—it did require a bit of spell work. A simple spell that left his bedroom ceiling reflecting the starry night outside—what my parents used to do for me. Another soft muggle lullaby and the stars beckoned the young Malfoy to sleep.

When I turned to leave, Draco was waiting for me in the hallway. Something gripped my heart when I saw the brushed away tears on his face. Without thinking, I wrapped him in my arms, pulling him close. He didn’t push me away. Instead he clung to me, the same way that Scorpius did.

My hands laced into his long silvery hair, carding through it. He pressed his face into my shoulder—having to hunch himself down to accomplish the feat—and inhaled deeply.

Before I wanted him to, he pulled away. Again, we didn’t say anything. Deciding that I wasn’t going to leave Draco on his own either tonight, I took his hand and led him back to my room. He didn’t protest. I nodded to the bed and got in on one side and he got in on the other. There was a tension between us that dissolved when I reached out for his hand in the moonlight.

“Has your Patronus always been a ferret?” He asked softly. 

“It was a cat up until recently,” I confessed.

We fell back into silence and remained like that until my eyelids became too heavy to open again.

“Thank you,” Was the last thing I heard before being pulled under.

In the morning, he was gone. I expected it though, he had to work at the Ministry. It was the entire point of my being at the Manor, to watch after Scorpius while his father worked. That and tutor him, but that was become less of a priority the more time I spent with the small family.

That night, however, I was on the verge of sleep when I heard my bedroom door open. A familiar silhouette slunk through the darkness, padding across the wooden floor. A small smile grew on my face as Draco slipped into bed next to me, lying very still. My heart raced. I rolled onto my back and we both stared at the ceiling in silence. Our soft breaths were the only thing heard. His hand reached for mine in the darkness.

He was gone again in the morning. I sighed and sat up, rubbing my face. My feelings were confusing themselves as questions swarmed in my mind. Draco was home for dinner that night. Scorpius went on and on about the day we had: I introduced him to Latin.

“They’re just like spells!” He exclaimed. “Miss Y/n showed me!” 

“You know Latin?” Draco looked at me.

“Spent a few semesters at a muggle college learning it,” I shrugged. “Some records only have copies written in it.”

He didn’t comment.

I retired to my room early that night, worrying my lip the entire evening, trying to figure out what was going on. It was all so confusing. Sometimes I thought I saw something in Draco and he in me, but... what did I know?

Draco was preparing for another long-term case. It was only a week. Scorpius tried not to cry in front of his father, but later the young Malfoy ran to me in tears. I lifted him into my arms and rocked him softly. I began to sing another muggle lullaby, a new one. It caught his attention as he calmed to listen to my new melody.

“How do you know all of these songs?” He asked with watery eyes.

“I used to get scared too,” I confided in him as I laid him into bed. “Sometimes I still do. They’re another secret to keep from being afraid.”

“But where do they come from?” He asked.

I smiled and pulled his covers up. “That... is something I’ll have to talk to your father about. It’s complicated,”

“Why?”

“Because they’re all muggle songs,” I explained softly. “And your father is...”

“Against muggles?” Scorpius frowned.

“No,” I responded immediately. “But though I teach you, I don’t have liberty to tell you everything my dear,”

“Why not?”

“Because...” I sighed. I’m not your mother.

“It’s complicated?” Scorpius gave a familiar smirk that once belonged to his father. 

“Quite so,” I replied and stood. “I’ll talk to him before he leaves.”

“Night Miss Y/n,”

“Goodnight Scorpius,”

I closed his door and leaned against it for a moment before finding my courage to go and find Draco. I found him packing in his study, gathering books and various magical items. I knocked on the door frame.

“Yes?” He didn’t look up.

How was I supposed to start this conversation?

“Y/n?” This time he did look up, worry in his blue eyes. “What’s wrong?” He set down his bag and came over to me. “Is Scorpius alright?”

“Yes, he’s fine,” I answered quickly. “He... Am I allowed to show him muggle movies?” The question was barely audible.

Draco’s expression sobered as he went back to his desk.

“They’re just fairytales, Draco.” I reasoned softly. “Just stories...”

“And they were just lullabies,” He snapped. “I should have stopped you the first time you sang to him... muggle songs... my son wanting to hear muggle songs... and movies...”

It was like a slap to the face. I took a small step back. Maybe I had been wrong, and Draco was still against muggles.

“If they’re so awful, why didn’t you stop me?” I snapped. “You had every chance to stop me.” 

“I’m stopping you now,” His voice was ice.

“You can’t do that,” I argued back. “He wants to know!”

“I do as I please! I am his father! You work for me! You will do as I say!” He threw down a book and stormed over to me, fury written on his face.

“Then I resign,” I bit out.

He faltered and froze.

“What?”

“You heard me,” I tilted my chin back. “I will not be treated like a child. And I will not keep secrets from yours. He deserves more than that,” My voice was calm and even.

“And what do you know about what he deserves!?” Draco spat. “He isn’t your child! You aren’t his mother!”

“I know that!” I yelled back, tears in my eyes.

I turned away, covering my face, biting back the tears that wanted to fall. I took a deep breath. 

“I’ll stay until you return, for Scorpius’ sake.” I gritted out. “Then I’m gone,”

I ran down the halls of the Manor and slammed my door shut, locking it childishly. Then I broke down into tears, leaning against it. I quieted when I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. They lingered outside my door but made no attempt to knock or open the door.

The next morning, he was gone.

Scorpius noticed my somber mood almost immediately. He asked me why I was sad. Then he asked me what I fought with his father about, bursting into tears when I told him that I was leaving within the week.

“But you can’t go Miss Y/n!” He sobbed, crawling into my lap. I bit back tears and cradled him close.

“I have to,” A few tears escaped. “But that doesn’t mean I love you any less,” I stroked his face softly, brushing away tears. “But I can’t keep things from you, and your father won’t let me teach them to you. I can’t do that to you my darling,”

“I don’t care! I don’t want you to go!” He clung to me. 

“Scorpius, darling,” I tried to reason with a four-year-old. 

“No! I won’t let you go!” He cried.

I held him close, hiding my face from him so that he didn’t have to see me cry. I started to whisper out another song. It quieted his crying once more but didn’t stop my own. He slept with me every night that week. I knew it wasn’t a smart idea, but I couldn’t seem to get out the word ‘no.’

There was a loud crack in the foyer while I was teaching Scorpius how to write his letters—he had a habit of mixing up runes and letters. I rose, knowing the sound of apperating and rushed down the hall. Draco was lain on the floor, scantly breathing and bleeding, severely.

I froze at the sight and turned, catching Scorpius in my arms and ushering him away from the sight.

“Scorpius, I need you to listen to me very carefully,” I set him down, kneeling in front of him. “In my room there’s a green carpet bag with purple flowers on it. I need that bag. Please Scorpius,”

He nodded and took off up the stairs and I rose, shedding my cardigan and rolling up my sleeves. I hurried over to Draco, kneeling beside him, drawing my wand.

“Medicari,” I chanted, running my wand over his slain skin. 

The gashes on his skin vanished, but he still looked deathly.

“Draco? Draco can you hear me!?” I fought back tears, lifting his head softly, placing it in my lap.

Scorpius came in, my bag in his arms. I thanked him and ripped the bag open. He took his father’s hand, silent tears on his face as a house elf showed up behind him.

“Get out!” I shouted at the elf, drawing a vial from my bag: Elixir of Life. “Just one drop,” I whispered softly to myself.

Uncapping the bottle, I took the dropper and placed it to Draco’s lips that were parted, scarce breaths drawing through them. Just one drop.

Slowly Draco became less a sickly green and restored back to the beautiful pale complexion. His breathing became deeper, healthier. His lips were no linger blue, but the soft pink color they had always been. His eyes remained closed, however.

“Daddy?” Scorpius asked softly.

“He’ll be fine,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

My eyes trailed over his body, making sure I hadn’t missed anything else, and I noticed that his shirt sleeve had been torn and the Dark Mark was opaque black and surrounded by red and irritated skin.

“Death Eaters,” I hissed. “Scorpius, come here,” I opened my arms and the little boy ran to me. I held him protectively and drew my wand, casting Protective and Shielding Charms around the Manor.

“What are Death Eaters?” Scorpius asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” I murmured softly. “Just stay close for now.” My eyes kept darting around the room, expecting to see the dead walk again and my old nightmares come back to haunt me.

“Are you still gonna leave?” Scorpius sniffled, his tears staring to fall again. 

“No, sweetheart,” I consoled. “I’m not leaving you on your own.”

I was decided in that moment. It didn’t matter what Draco said to me or ordered me to do. I would stay for Scorpius’ sake. Even if that meant laying aside my pride. I would stay.

With the dreadful feeling that Draco might not wake up soon, I called a house elf—whom I apologized to upon seeing—and had her apparate Draco up to his room, and into bed. Scorpius was glued to my side the entire evening. The house elf came in later with soup and tea for dinner as well as a bowl of water and washcloth.

After dinner, Scorpius fell asleep in my lap. I gently laid him on the chaise lounge that was next to the bed and covered him with an extra blanket. Then I took the water and washcloth and began my task.

I took my time and gently washed the sweat and grim from Draco’s face, moving to his neck and arms. He looked peaceful like this. Years of harsh and cold looks were gone. Instead I found something reminiscent of a young boy at Hogwarts evident in his features. Without knowing it, I began to sing softly.

I unbuttoned Draco’s black shirt and continued to wash away the dried blood and dirt. It was a slow process, but it gave me something to focus on; rather than the crippling anxiety that loomed over me. My fingertips traced old scars that littered his chest in an abstract pattern. I wondered how many of them he had to mend alone...

I sat on the floor, leaning against the bedframe and tried to read my book, but failed. I just stared at the fire in the hearth and sang absentmindedly. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed three o’clock.

“Y/n?” A scratchy groggy voice called.

I sprang up and met tired blue eyes.

“Merlin, Draco,” I cried, tears springing into my eyes as I crouched beside him stroking his face.

He tried to sit up and I aided him, tears streaming silently down my face.

“Don’t do that to me!” I squeaked, cupping his face between my hands, sitting on the bed. “What were you thinking!?”

“I-I’m sorry,” He stammered, shocked at my cry of emotion.

I drew him into a tight embrace and buried my face in his shoulder. Tentatively his arms wrapped around me. After a moment, they started to rub my back as I cried into his shoulder.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” I confessed through tears.

“No, never,” His vow baffled me.

I withdrew and studied him, confusion and heart break on both of our faces.

“I’m sorry,” He took my hand in his. “It was wrong for me to yell at you like that. Or to say the things I did. Please, don’t leave. Even if you can’t stand to be near me, nor say another word to me again, Scorpius needs you,” A pause. “...I need you.”

Saddened blue eyes met mine and I pressed my lips to his without a second thought. His lips melded to mine instantly as he drew me into his arms. My hands went to his hair, knotting themselves into his long locks. His lips were hot and desperate against mine—mine even more so against his.

“Daddy?”

We quickly parted, both of our attentions snapping to a sleepy Scorpius.

“Why are you kissing Miss Y/n?” He asked, rubbing his eyes. “And why is she in your lap?”

After a moment of shock, I dissolved into laughter, hiding my face in Draco’s shoulder. I felt him shake with laughter too. One of Draco’s hands left my waist, beckoning Scorpius into our embrace. It took a bit of finagling, but soon we were all laying on the bed, Scorpius tucked between Draco and me. Draco pulled a blanket around us, pressing kisses to Scorpius’ head and to my forehead. My fingers combed through Scorpius’ hair as I watched him fall asleep to the soft melody that fell from my lips.

When I was positive that he was asleep, my gaze shifted to nervous blue eyes. I searched for answers, for an explanation. Draco seemed to pick up on that.

“They... Polyjuice Potion,” He started. “It was you; they were you... I... Merlin, Y/n,” He reached out and took my hand. “It was a living nightmare... your screams... they wouldn’t advance... it was days before...”

“Stars, Draco,” My heart broke at the picture that he was piecing together for me.

I could only imagine if the roles had been switched and it was Draco that I had heard screaming from pain and torture for days... not being able to do anything... trying to prove to myself it wasn’t real... What would I have done?

“You went in alone,” I realized. “You... Draco, what were you thinking? You could have been killed!” I whispered harshly, careful not to wake Scorpius.

“I... They weren’t going to take away someone else that I cared for. I wasn’t going to sit by and watch it happen,” His voice was firm and sure.

I reached out and stroked his face softly, his eyes connecting with mine. Nothing was said but everything was meant. It was moments like these that my regrets shone the most. I should have done more in school... I should have done something...

“I was going to stay anyway,” I confessed, my gaze dropping down to the young Malfoy. “I couldn’t leave him like that.”

“You... you would have let me order you around... for the sake of my son?” Draco’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes,” I whispered softly. “And I still will, if that’s what it takes.” 

My eyes met his again. There were tears in them.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Draco whispered softly.

I smiled and shook my head softly.

“It’s never about what we deserve, but what we do in spite of it,”

We fell asleep, the three of us, curled up and clinging to each other. It was peaceful, for once. When I awoke in the morning, I was alone. Frantically I looked around for Scorpius but relaxed when I heard laughter and a loud clatter downstairs.

Snagging Draco’s house coat, I made my way downstairs to find Draco and Scorpius in the kitchen, in various states of disaster. Scorpius was covered in what looked like flour—Draco not faring much better—and the kitchen counters were covered with pretty much every baking utensil and dish that the Malfoy’s owned. It was very hard not to laugh. So, I did.

“Scourgify,” I snapped my fingers and the kitchen began to return to a less chaotic state of being.

Scorpius marveled at the wandless magic as everything was placed in its proper order. I carefully made my way over to the two Malfoys, avoiding dishes and pans that floated around in a hurry to find their proper homes.

“Good morning,” I drawled, raising an eyebrow at Draco.

“He insisted we make pancakes the muggle way because someone taught him,” He raised an eyebrow back at me.

“I almost remember how to do it Miss Y/n!” Scorpius cut in between us, pulling at my hand.

Chuckling, I pulled him up into my arms and set him on the counter. Then I went around and gathered what was actually necessary to make pancakes. Draco watched quietly, offering things I needed before I could ask for them. His gaze and hands always lingered when they were upon me, and it left me a bit redder than I cared to admit.

With breakfast on the small kitchen table, coffee and tea brewed—a glass of milk for Scorpius— we ate in the company of one another. Draco started to chide Scorpius about the amount of syrup he was using, and I gave Draco an amused look and he refrained, sighing and reading the Daily Prophet. (It meant having to give Scorpius a bath afterwards because of the sticky mess, but it was worth it).

“How did you do it?” Draco asked as we walked the grounds, Scorpius chasing the wild peacocks.

“Do what?” I asked, eyeing a peacock that was getting a bit too aggressive for my taste.

“Last night,” He gave, but I still wasn’t quite sure what he wanted me to explain. “you saved my life. I know about every spell and potion out there... how did you do it so quickly?”

“Elixir of Life,” I paused and teetered my head. “Sort of. It’s the juice of the Fire-Flowers that grow in the Mountains of the Sun. Cures any illness and injury... as long as the person still has breath.”

“That what of what?”

I laughed. “Historian, remember?” I nudged his side. “You learn a few things. I think I have what’s left of it... no one has been able to find the flowers or the mountain any longer.”

“What did you go and waste it on me for then?” He exclaimed. 

“Um, you were dying?” I argued back. “It wasn’t a waste.” 

“I’m hardly worth keeping alive,”

“That’s not true,” I refuted stubbornly. “You mean so much to Scorpius, and to me for that matter. What would either of us do without you?” I looked to Scorpius who had a peacock feather in his hand, waving it proudly. We both waved back.

“He’d be fine. He’s strong,”

“He’s four, Draco,” I snapped. “He doesn’t need to be strong; he needs to be a kid.”

Draco pursed his lips and sighed. “Suppose you’re right,” He finally admitted. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this right...”

“There is no right way to raise someone, Draco,” Then mended, “Okay, there’s no one certain way that you have to raise someone. And I think you’re doing just fine with him. He’s a great kid, Dray,”

“Miss Y/n! Look what I found!” Scorpius ran over, a small bowtruckle in his hand.

“Look at that!” I crouched down. “But you better go put him back, he needs to be with his family,”

The little boy nodded and ran back into the yard, crouching down beside a bush. Our conversation of the matter seemed to end there. Draco was called back into work and Scorpius and I remained outside for the rest of the evening. When he returned later that evening, Scorpius was fast asleep in bed and I was staring at the family portraits in the great room. Though the figures moved, they gave me no guidance on what to do. Draco came and stood beside me, gazing at the paintings as well.

“She was beautiful,” I whispered softly, looking at the painting of Draco, Astoria, and an infant Scorpius. “With more courage than a lion,”

Draco nodded and stared at his late wife. I gnawed at my lip and sighed softly.

“Sometimes I wonder how things would have changed if she was still here,” Draco confessed to the painting. “If they would have...”

“Well, you wouldn’t need me,” I smiled sadly.

“And why not?” He turned to me, confusion on his features. “Scorpius would still need a teacher,”

“But we never would have met in the park that day. It wouldn’t be me here...” My gaze shifted back to the portrait.

He went quiet at that, and with a deep breath, bid me goodnight and retired to his room for the rest of the evening. I gave the paintings one last glimpse and turned in myself. I was alone that night, not getting much sleep.

We fell back into an odd sort of routine as December ended. I attempted to keep my emotions for Draco under control as I continued to teach his son. I may have failed at the notion completely. I had convinced Draco to throw a small party for Scorpius for his fifth birthday and though it was only the three of us as well as Narcissa and Lucius, the youngest Malfoy was the happiest five- year-old in the world.

“Miss Y/l/n,” Narcissa gestured for me to join her in a quiet sitting room.

Setting down my plate of homemade cake—that I showed Scorpius how to make upon his request and pouting—I followed her. Anxiety grew in my chest as we sat by the warm hearth.

“It’s my understanding that you are tutoring my grandson,” She said softly. 

“Yes ma’am,” I nodded, fidgeting with my sweater.

“And that you care deeply for my son,” She gave me a knowing look.

I pressed my lips together and stared at the crackling fire.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” I repeated my mantra. “I can’t...”

“And why not?” My eyes snapped up at hers, a startled look on my face as she continued. “Draco has been through a lot, and I cannot change the past. Astoria aided him through some of it, setting him back on his feet, but you my dear, have brought back life to my son’s eyes.”

“Mrs. Malfoy,” I started, but she raised her hand to stop me.

“I understand if you do not wish to take on the family name, nor commit to a very broken man.”

“That’s not the issue,” I amended quickly. “I... I don’t know if Draco is ready... Sometimes I think yes, then other times I don’t know what’s going through his head... and I don’t want to lose him or Scorpius if I’m wrong...”

“We are never truly ready for anything my dear,” Narcissa spoke softly, reminiscing. “But I know my son, and I know that he has changed so much since you’ve been around. Do not be afraid of not being ready, it’s when true character shines through,” She rose elegantly and gave me a warm smile. “You are good for him,”

“Everything alright in here?” Draco stood in the doorway, a curious look on his face. I did my best to offer an encouraging smile.

“Yes, quite,” His mother smiled and swept out of the room with the grace of a swan.

I stood and readjusted the shawl around my shoulders. Draco’s eyes didn’t leave me as I walked over to him. He was still waiting for me to explain.

“It’s nothing,” I smiled and looked down. “We just talked about Scorpius and his studies, that’s all,” It was an easy lie, and I knew that he could see through it, but he didn’t call me out on it.

“Miss Y/n! Look! Daddy got me a book! Just like yours!” Scorpius bounded over to me, a thick leather-bound book in his hands.

“Isn’t that wonderful!” I beamed, bending down, examining the book’s cover.

Walt Disney’s Classic Storybook Collection: Volume Three

Shock flitted across my emotions as I looked up at Draco, my eyebrows drawing together. 

“They’re just fairytales,” He offered a lopsided smile and a small shrug.

I couldn’t stop the smile on my face or the warmth in my heart that grew. I rose, giving Scorpius his book back and went over to Draco.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I whispered softly. “I told you, it was alright.”

“You were right, Y/n,” He spoke in a hushed tone. “He deserves to know, and he deserves to be a kid,” He pulled me beside him, nodding to his son that played with a mix of muggle and magic toys on the floor, Lucius eyeing him warily and Narcissa beaming.

I leaned against Draco and watched Scorpius play in the firelight, pondering what Narcissa had told me. Was I really the one that brought life back into this small family? Could Draco hold the same regard for me as I did for him?

With his arm wrapped around my side, keeping me close, I thought that just maybe he could.

The night after Narcissa and Lucius had gone, Scorpius begged me to read from his new book as a bedtime story. I gave in and opened the gold leaf pages and skimmed the table of contents. I chose a familiar tale: Peter Pan.

“Is one of your songs from this story?” Scorpius asked, his eyes shining.

“Not this one, no,” I smiled. “But we’ll get to those, I promise,”

He nodded and settled in as I began to read the fairytale. Scorpius was fast asleep before Peter saved Wendy from the mermaids. I closed the book and set it on his bedside table, smiling and leaving his room, the door cracked open. Draco was in his study, hunched over a book on his desk, deeply focused. Passing the room, I headed to the kitchen and made two cups of tea before returning. Setting one on his desk next to him, I stood behind him, leaning against his desk chair.

He murmured a thanks and didn’t look up from the book. Gathering my courage, I sat my mug down as well.

“Draco, can we talk?” I bit my lip and looked down.

His blue eyes looked up from the book, his eyebrows raised, waiting for me to continue. I took a deep breath. Hopefully this conversation would go better than the last time we ‘talked.’

“I... have had a wonderful time, here over the past year, with you and Scorpius,” I began. He sighed. 

“I understand,” There was an air of melancholy in his voice.

“You do?” I wondered what he was referring to or if we were on the same page. It seemed like we weren’t.

“You wish to leave,” His gaze didn’t meet mine. “You tried, and it didn’t work, I understand.”

“What?” I took a small step back, wrapping my arms around myself. “Where in the world did you get an idea like that?” I paused. “Do you want me to leave?” My voice was as small as I felt in that moment.

“No,” He confessed softly. 

“Then what do you want?” His eyes flashed to mine.

“The truth?” He seemed nervous and afraid. I nodded. “I... I don’t...” He pursed his lips together and stood, his back to me, like it would make it easier. “I don’t sleep well when you’re not beside me. I don’t go a day at work without thinking about you. I feel the same need to protect you as I do with Scorpius.

“You understand my son in a way I’ll never comprehend, and I see you in him more and more every day. I’ve given you everything I can, and I still fear it’s not enough to make you want to stay. Because I’ve spent months trying to deny and conceal what I feel about you from you and myself and I can’t do it anymore.”

I gaped at him.

“And maybe keeping you away will keep you safe,” He whispered.

I rounded his desk and reached out, placing my hand on his shoulder. He turned, desperation in his eyes. I reached up and stroked his cheek softly.

“I love you Y/n,” As if the notion broke him. 

“I love you too, Draco,”

His hands cradled my face as he drew me into a scared, hesitant kiss. My hands splayed over his shoulders and pulled him closer. Holding another close, we melted into the other. Past fears, regrets, pains, and nightmares all laid aside for one shining moment.

“Don’t go away,” He whispered softly against my lips.

“Never,” I vowed. “You’re stuck with me now,” I smiled up at him. 

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

It was a soft and gentle night. Draco continued to read, I brought my book and joined him in the sitting room that his mother and I spoke in not hours before. He was sitting in the center of the sofa and my legs were draped across his lap as we read into the late hours of the night.

With unspoken words and requests, we curled up together in his bed, in ridiculously expensive silk sheets and down pillows. My fingers absent mindedly traced the scars across his chest, my head nestled on his shoulder and his arm around me.

He rose early in the morning, placing a kiss to my forehead before heading to get ready for work. In his house coat again, I saw him off, kissing him softly before he departed. Contented, I went to wake Scorpius, humming softly to myself. He insisted that I read him another fairytale after lunch, and I compromised and agreed I would after his lesson.

Draco returned that evening, in a pleasant mood, placing a kiss on my cheek, before lifting Scorpius into his arms, asking about his son’s day. The young Malfoy babbled about the tale of Peter Pan and Captain Hook, saying he wanted to fly like Peter.

“Do you still have your broom?” I mused, curious. “I remember someone being quite the quidditch player,”

Scorpius’ eyes lit up. “You know how to play Quidditch!?” He exclaimed.

I laughed as Draco set down his son, the three of us heading out to the backyard where Draco produced two broomsticks. The wood hummed in my hand the same way that my wand did and responded to my thoughts. Draco and I hovered just above the ground. He pulled Scorpius onto the broom with him and kicked off, soaring high over the Manor. I laughed and chased after them. We flew until the setting sun provided no more light.

Scorpius was asleep in my arms as we headed back inside. Draco followed me up the stairs, helping me tuck his sleeping son into bed. With his arms wrapped around me, Draco and I watched the peaceful slumber that Scorpius had claimed.

“You’re a good mother to him,” Draco whispered lowly, not to disturb his son’s slumber.

My heart fluttered at his words, my lips curling into a smile. A new sort of anxiety set into my chest.

“And you’re a great father,” I gazed up at him through my eyelashes.

Again, Draco and I curled up together in the quiet of the night, talking about anything and everything. What we had been doing the past ten years, what jobs we had taken, how our families were. Some nights Scorpius would join us in bed, either from loneliness or nightmares.

We hold him, as I found another melody to put him to sleep again. In fact, my lullabies had a habit of putting both Malfoys to sleep.

In the park one spring afternoon, Scorpius went off and played with other kids his age. It made me smile, knowing that he probably craved the company of those his age. Draco and I sat together on the same bench where it all started.

“Does that boy look familiar to you?” Draco mused, nodding to the child that Scorpius was laughing with, chasing around the swing sets. There was another little girl with them, with bright red hair and an older boy who held more of a likeness than the younger one.

My eyes started to scan park for the Potters.

“There,” I pointed inconspicuously towards another couple a few benches down from us. “Should we go say hi?” I mused.

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re still harboring a grudge.” I laughed. “We were kids, Draco. Besides,” I nudged his side. “It looks like Ginny beat me to it.”

The two Potters came walking over, one sulking, one smiling brightly. Draco and I stood, mirroring the other couple.

“I thought I knew a Malfoy when I saw one,” Ginny grinned at me and Draco. 

“Ginny,” I beamed, and we hugged.

“It’s been too long Y/n,” She smiled.

The two boys seemed to be having a stare down, neither giving in. I slipped my hand into Draco’s and Harry’s eyes darted to the gesture, then to my eyes. I offered a smile and Harry seemed to backtrack a bit.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Both Draco and Harry turned.

Scorpius came bounding over smiling hugely. Draco crouched down, a smile on his face as well.

“Daddy! I made a new friend! We’re lost boys together!” Scorpius beamed. “And his brother is Peter Pan and his sister is a lost boy like us!”

The other three children came over, all flocking to Harry and Ginny, telling about the same story that Scorpius did, who was now in Draco’s arms, still going on about their adventure.

“You son knows about Peter Pan?” Harry asked skeptically. “Isn’t that a bit muggle for your lot?” There was a snide tone in his words.

“They’re fairytales Harry. Let them be kids,” Draco responded coolly, like I hadn’t spent months trying to get that through his head.

“Miss Y/n knows all about fairytales! She’s really good at singing them too! She’s been teaching me about so many things!” Scorpius could barely hide his excitement.

Harry looked at the three of us, baffled.

“Seems we have a lot to catch up on,” He finally spoke.

“You’ll have to come by the Manor sometime with the kids,” Draco offered to everyone’s shock, including mine.

“Er, yes.” Harry narrowed his eyes. “I’ll have Ginny send an owl,”

Draco gave a small nod and set Scorpius down.

“Men,” I heard Ginny muttered and grinned.

The young Malfoy clung to my side, holding my hand. This seemed to surprise Harry and Ginny both.

“Are you ready to go, darling?” I asked Scorpius, crouching down. Scorpius gave a small pout. “No crocodile tears,” I tickled him, lifting him into my arms. “Or I’ll just have to make dinner myself tonight...”

The young Malfoy perked up at that. Every once in a while, I’d cook dinner myself, the muggle way and Scorpius was always keen on learning how. Draco joined us on those nights, showing his son how magic also worked in the kitchen.

“I’ll send an owl,” I smiled to Ginny and Harry. “Say goodbye Scorpius,”

A chorus of goodbyes rang about the four children and Draco and I apparated home. Scorpius bounded off to the bathroom to wash his hands at my request before we started dinner and Draco cornered me against the counter in the kitchen.

“Was that so bad?” I smiled up at him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Terrible, absolutely dreadful,” He smirked, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Potter,” He snarled in a familiar tone that had me laughing.

“Oh, some things never change, do they?” I laughed into his shoulder.

“Afraid not,” Draco chuckled. “Thank you, for staying by my side.” His words were soft and low.

“Of course, always,” I murmured, tugging the hair tie from his hair and running my fingers through it. His eyes closed as he relaxed under my touch.

“I love you,” His tone was soft. 

“I love you too,”

Something lingered in his eyes. Something that he hid and something that made the butterflies in my chest flutter anxiously. A question that we both waited for.

It was a few days later that the Potters came over to the Manor, along with the youngest Weasleys and their parents, and another teen who was just as much family as the five kids that accompanied them.

It was tense and awkward for some time between Harry, Ron, and Draco, but with some easy planning and quick thinking between Ginny, Hermione, and me, it faded. We all sat comfortably

out on the back porch, watching the kids play in the yard. I couldn’t help but smile watching Scorpius finally having someone his own age to play and imagine with. Draco seemed to have the same thought because his hand found mine.

“So how did you two end up together?” Ron asked, not so stealthily to Hermione’s dismay.

I laughed and Draco smiled.

“Draco hired me to tutor Scorpius,” I shrugged. “And well...” I looked to Draco and smiled.

“That explains why Scorpius knows so many muggle things,” Harry laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day,”

Soon we all began swapping stories, catching up with each other’s lives. It was nice to be beside Draco and other friends from school. The memories that always haunted me about Hogwarts seemed to fade as the afternoon went on. Dusk came and the two other families bid us goodnight. Scorpius was sad to see his friends go, but with a promise that they would be back, he seemed alright. It wasn’t hard to get him to bed that night, he was fast asleep after the first verse of my lullaby.

An early June day, Scorpius insisted that we make another cake for Draco’s birthday. I laughed and let the young Malfoy pull me to the kitchen as we started our adventure. When Draco came home from work, he found us both covered in frosting, laughing. At least some of the frosting made it onto the cake.

“Happy birthday, Daddy!” Scorpius yelled. “We made a cake!”

“I see that,” He grinned, setting down his case and shrugging off his robe. “And a mess,”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek then lifted Scorpius into his arms. The little boy giggled, and like every day that Draco came home, began to talk about his day.

“Happy birthday love,” I smiled, leaving them to catch up.

I snapped my fingers and the kitchen began to clean itself again as I set the cake onto a cake stand, I had found in the pantry. With dinner eaten and cake devoured—and no longer all over Scorpius and I—the night was quiet once more.

“Now,” Draco sat Scorpius on the counter. “A little birdie told me that someone wants to see a certain movie?”

Scorpius’ face lit up and nodded enthusiastically. I raised an eyebrow at Draco, who grinned. He lifted his son into his arms and led us both to a small sitting room where a screen and projector had been set up. I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand, tears pricking my eyes.

“Dray,” I breathed out. “You didn’t have to...”

“It’s about time he gets to see them, no?” Draco set his son down on the mountain of pillows and blankets that resided on the floor. “He deserves to be a kid.”

I pulled Draco into a hug. “I love you,”

“I love you too,”

Drawing away, I looked at Scorpius who was waiting more or less patiently.

“And every kid deserves a pillow fort.” I drew my wand and crafted a structurally sound fort, big enough for the three of us.

Nestled down into the fort, Peter Pan began to play. Scorpius was glue to the screen, taking in every moment. In fact, both Malfoys were. Laying my head on Draco’s shoulder, I combed my fingers through Scorpius’ hair.

“If you father knew about this,” I murmured into Draco’s ear, causing him to chuckle. 

“He doesn’t have to,” He grinned like a rebellious teenager.

About twenty minutes into Beauty and the Beast, Scorpius was fast asleep in my lap. I chuckled and Draco helped me up as we put him to bed. I headed back down to the makeshift movie room where the movie was still playing to clean up, but Draco caught my hand. I looked at him expectantly. With a snap of his fingers the room cleaned itself and he pulled me to the cleared floor.

“Dance with me,” He gestured to the dancing pair on the screen.

I laughed and nodded, taking his hand and letting him lead me in a familiar waltz. Though I hadn’t done it in some time, my feet remembered what to do. It was intoxicating, dancing with him. It took me to a world of far off places, magic spells, and a prince in disguise. I sang softly with the music playing, the words setting in both of our hearts.

Ending the dance with the fading melody, our eyes locked both panting softly. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine in a sweet loving kiss, something hidden in his warm eyes when he withdrew. My gaze dropped, a blush on my cheeks.

“Y/n?” He called softly.

I looked up, expectant. Waiting for those four words, dreading their moment but wishing their arrival.

“When we were younger, we lived in a different world,” He began softly. “Things were a lot less complicated. And if, as we are now, met back then... I would have courted you. I may have stolen a kiss or two but only after asking your father’s permission... but we are both very different people now, and I know it’s not the same, but if it were...” He took my hands and slid down onto one knee. My heart hammered in my chest, tears welling into my eyes as a smile grew on my face.

“I would have got down on one knee and I would have presented you with a ring.” He pulled out a small velvet ring box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a ring. “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, I promise to love you every moment forever, would you do me the extraordinary of honor of marrying me?”

With tears streaming down my face I nodded. 

“Yes,” I cried. “Yes, yes, yes!”

A smile broke out across Draco’s face as he scooped me into his arms, spinning me around. We were both crying and holding each other. Little ‘I love you’s left our teary-eyed kisses. He slipped the ring onto my finger: a silver band woven with diamonds and emeralds that enchanted itself to fit my ring-finger.

We didn’t let go of another that night. A night that was filled with soft words, gentle kisses, and loving touches. In the morning, Scorpius burst into our room and bound onto the bed, pulled my left hand into his sights as soon as he was close enough, squealing when he saw the ring.

“I told you daddy!” Scorpius beamed. “I told you she would say yes!” 

“That you did,” Draco ruffled his son’s hair.

I smiled at my boys and pulled them both close. The morning was lazy and filled with laughter and moments that I wanted to hold close forever.

.

.

List of Muggle Lullabies: 

Stay Awake, Mary Poppins

Feed the Birds, Mary Poppins

My Favorite Things, The Sound of Music

Edelweiss, The Sound of Music

Once Upon a December, Anastasia

Lavender’s Blue, Cinderella

A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes, Cinderella

You’ll Be In My Heart, Tarzan

Beauty and the Beast, “”

Remember Me, Coco

You Are My Sunshine, Jasmine Thompson

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Part 2

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Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda@bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland @shookyungsoo @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey@theres-a-dog-outside-omg @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise@dietkiwi@katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things@tmnt-queen @mccloudchloe @hxneybgb @justsomerandomgur @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms @howdycharlie@xtrashmouthxtozierx @cocochanelthepupper@ninacotte@mccloudchloe @braelynn-j @jiggllyy @honeymarvel@go-whovian-universe @darcypottah @atomicpunkrock@thiccheerioss @lottie289 @boredashaeck @beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @deadlynyghtshayde @iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle @dragonsandbread @atomicwonderlandmentality @okaydraco @the–queen-of-hell @langdonzvoid @cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing @tulippings @thestressedprincess @sunflowerxsadnessw @caps-wilsonn @fattycooter @angelotakunerd08 @thisisahugemistake @fanficsigottaread​ @gweaslvy​ @okaydraco​ @strawberriesonsummer​ @ughjjloveme​ @honeymarvel​

[merakiaes]

The One For Me - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @nuvoleincielo​

Prompts: #16, #30 and #63 from the fluff-list. 

Warnings/notes: This is my first time writing for Hotch and Criminal Minds in general so please be patient while I get used to these new characters, might be slight OOC😭 It’s also the first piece I’ve written in a few months now and I’m a bit rusty, so please let me know what you think. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. Send in more requests for Hotch, Reid and Morgan and let me know if you want to be added to the Criminal Minds taglist! I hope you like it💕

Wordcount: 4118

Summary: Hotch has doubts about letting your relationship go further and you reassure him that he’s what you want. 

After being raised in one of New York’s worst, most crime ridden and low poverty neighborhoods by a family who was constantly targeted by the law enforcement, the last thing you’d expect was that you would become an active worker of said law enforcement.

Your mother died ten minutes after giving birth to you and your father had never been a part of the equation, most likely having ran the second he found out your mother had gotten pregnant. With no other immediate family, you ended up in the system, where you were stuck for the first seven years of your life.

You jumped back and forth between families of all kinds but for reasons unknown, no one wanted to keep you. It wasn’t until a couple adopted you two days before your eight birthday that you finally felt like you belonged.

They had many children of their own as well as more foster children, all between the ages of ten and twenty-five at the time of your adoption. On top of that, the children had children of their own and aunts, uncles, cousins and friends stayed with you more often than not as they struggled to hold on to homes of their own.

It wasn’t the most ideal way to live, a dozen people staying under the same roof of a two bedroom house, but you had dinner on the table every evening and the love for family was strong, so despite the conditions you lived in and the struggles you were forced to face on a daily basis, you guessed you couldn’t complain; you’d had it better than most.

The people who lived in those parts were always getting pinned for various kinds of crimes, just so the police could get it out of their hands and go on about their lives.

The male members of your family and the company they kept were some of the biggest targets even though they rarely did anything wrong, but despite the injustices they faced every day, they remained respectful when staring in the face of a cop.

You, on the other hand, despised them. You were an outspoken little girl, too feisty for your own good and on more occasions than one, you’d ended up pissing off some rich kid in school for which your dad and uncles were forced to pay the price.

You’d always hated the injustice the less fortunate suffered every day, but it wasn’t until you witnessed your first murder at fifteen that your interest of making the world a better place really piqued.

The victim had been one of the boys living in your neighborhood. He was two years older than you and he always gave it his all to make something out of himself. He walked with you and your younger brothers and cousins to school every day to make sure you got there safely, studied hard, kept out of trouble and always remained respectful.

The only reason he died was because his skin was the wrong color in the eyes of the law and because he was born into a less fortunate neighborhood, and it was then your eyes truly opened to the police brutality and misuse of power plaguing your country.

You joined the police force when you were nineteen years old and you stayed there, on top of your game and determined to do it better than the bad ones, until you were twenty-one. 

At that point, most of your family had passed away either out of old age, or simply from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and your determination to help people was stronger than ever.

But even you, the tough little firecracker as your uncles had always called you, could only tolerate so much.

After two years on the force, you got tired of being undermined by your male co-workers and set out to step up your game, taking up studies of criminology and psychology among several other subjects.

You studied your ass off and was just barely able to get by with the money you had saved up over the years, and at twenty-four, you finally had your degrees and clearance to begin working in higher places.

Starting off in New York, you stayed there for six months before you were transferred to Quantico, Virginia, where you were recruited by the one and only Jason Gideon who had heard word of your talent in the field.

You had worked with the team for little over a year now and Jason, who had always acted as a kind of mentor and father figure for you, was gone, having left only a letter for you and Spencer each.

Taking his place was Aaron Hotchner, a fellow agent to which you hadn’t paid much personal attention before the departure of Gideon. But things changed when he left, a lot of things.

Hotch was fresh out of his divorce, moodier than ever and in a really bad mental state. He stayed in his office until the late hours of the night, sometimes even the early hours of the next morning, barely slept and often forgot to eat if he wasn’t reminded by his team members.

Everyone urged him to take some time off, to go home and get some sleep and to take care of himself, and although he always told them that he would, he never followed through.

Up until then, you still hadn’t spoken much with him except for when you were working on a case. You were just an agent and he was just your boss, there was nothing else to it. But you couldn’t just sit by and watch as he neglected himself, so you followed your team-mates’ example and approached him.

He dismissed you at first, like he had done everyone else who had tried to offer him their support. But as time passed by, in some miraculous way, you made him laugh, and as you continued your attempts on offering him your ear to listen, he opened up to you, and you grew to become more than just colleagues.

Your first and only date had been on your initiative. You invited him to dinner at your house during your weekend off, to which he agreed.

You cooked together and although it started off as kind of awkward – more from his side than yours – you ended up kissing later that night after having had a bit too much to drink, and fell asleep together on your couch while you were flicking through your childhood photo albums.

The next morning, he was gone. You had always been an extremely light sleeper so you found it strange that he had managed to slip off without alerting you and also having managed to wrap you up in a blanket before he left.

He didn’t leave without a word though. A note was neatly placed on the coffee table in front of you, on which he explained that he needed to pick up Jack and that he didn’t want to wake you, finishing it off with a thank you for the night before.

That was the first and last time you spent time together, just the two of you, but it wasn’t like it was intentional.

You wanted to do it again, to continue exploring the budding romance between the two of you and to see where you could take it, and although you knew nothing of his feelings, he wanted the same thing.

But work got very stressful; stressful to the point where you could never find a moment to talk to each other if it wasn’t in the presence of the entire team. But the spark between you wasn’t gone.

It was still there in the way he would let his hand hover above the small of your back when you were walking side by side and step in front of you if you were ever in danger, and in the way you would always take a second to ask how he and Jack was doing, if they were eating enough and getting enough sleep, whenever you were heading somewhere; no matter if the team was with you.

It was there in the way he would always encourage you to go on the less dangerous tasks while he took the ones that were more life-threatening and in the way he would always smile, the slightest of smiles, whenever you were exchanging jokes or sarcastic remarks with Morgan, or messing around with poor, clueless Reid.

It was there, but it was unspoken. At least until now.

The case you had been working on for the past two days was that of Gilbert Stratton; a serial killer who had targeted young women, killed them, drained them of their blood, and then proceeded to hang the bodies up by their feet in trees all around the city.

You had caught him just in time to save the last kidnapped girl and you had originally been the one assigned to question him, but Hotch had stepped in last minute after the man had made a crude comment about how ‘girls like you always tasted the best’.

You had attempted to tell him that you could take it, but before you had even been given a chance to state your case, he had shut the door in your face and you had been whisked off by JJ.

You were the one out of the entire team who was the most interested in the psychology of a serial killer so you really wanted to be the one to interview Stratton, but you knew that Hotch had taken over for the sake of your safety and not because he underestimated you, so you couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad.

While he did his job, you settled at your desk with a sigh, getting to work on the heft stack of paperwork that had been building up throughout the week. 

The first ten minutes you kept close track of the clock next to you, wondering why it was taking so long, but the more time that passed, the more focused you became.

Soon enough, you only had a few reports left and you had completely lost track of time, when there was a sudden bang behind you, sounding an awful lot like a door slamming shut.

And your suspicions were proven correct, when you looked up to see Hotch march straight the bullpen.

The corners of your lips tugged up at the sight of him, but the arising smile quickly fell again when he walked right past you, without even an acknowledging glance, heading into his office and shutting himself inside without as much of a word to anyone.

Left behind with dumbstruck looks on their faces were the team, glances of bewilderment being exchanged.

“What happened?” Reid asked the question you were all thinking after a moment of silence, just as Emily walked in from the interrogation room.

Rather than answering Reid’s question, she looked right at you, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I think you better go talk to him.” She said simply, and as confusion and anxiety bubbled up inside of you, you slowly drawled.

“Okaaay…”

They all watched you as you stood up from your seat, brushing down your shirt and turning off the lamp at your desk before heading for the stairs.

You could feel their eyes following your every move and you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous of what you were about to walk into.

Everyone had gotten negatively affected by a case or unsub at some point during their career, most more than once. They were all very good at getting into your head, no matter how little you wanted to admit it. But you had never seen Hotch react this strongly to anything before. The only time you had really seen him snap was during one single case, right after Haley had filed for a divorce.

Still, you kept walking until you reached his closed office door, stopping only then to peek inside the blinded windows to see him sitting at his desk, hands rubbing over his face.

You knocked on the glass gently and in any other case he would have looked up and meet your gaze, but when his head kept hanging this time, you let yourself in, only when closing the door behind you cutting off the curious eyes of the others.

Once you were inside, you wasted no time in approaching Hotch where he sat by his desk, analyzing his every move which led you to only one question.

What the hell had Stratton said to him to make him this distraught?

He didn’t even look up as you reached him, keeping his eyes closed as you came to a stop beside his desk.

Treading carefully, you reached out and gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“What happened?” You asked softly, the sound of your words instantly bringing a long, heavy sigh out of his nose.

“Why are you doing this?” He wasted no time in replying, causing a crease to form between your eyebrows.

“What?” You asked back, confusion lacing your voice.

Finally, he brought his hands down from his face and slowly spun around in his chair, forcing you to drop your hand from his shoulder and to take a step back.

He stared up at you, face wiped free of emotion as always. But the eyes said it all.

“Why are you so adamant on being with me? Why do you try so hard?” He questioned you, taking you by surprise.

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes grew slightly wider, and you took a moment to regain your composure after the, to say the least, unexpected question.  

“What kind of question is that?” You asked once you finally regained your senses. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you want to be with someone? Try?”

One of your eyebrows sank again, leaving only one raised in question.

Hotch’s face softened slightly and for a moment, he averted his eyes, letting out another, smaller sigh from his nose before looking back up to meet your eyes once again.

“What I mean is, why do you want to be with me?” He asked again, clarifying and slightly shaking his head in what seemed to be disbelief. “The second you walked into this office, both Morgan and Reid had their eyes on you, and they still do. They’re closer to your age, they’re energetic, humorous, full of life, while I’m ten years your senior, and can’t offer you what they can. So why do you want to be with me, when you can have them, or anyone you want?”

“What is it that they can give me that you can’t?” You didn’t waste a second in firing back.

You had no idea what had brought this on, but it was clear that it was bothering him and quite frankly, you found it ridiculous even though you didn’t like making it a habit to judge other people for what they were feeling.

“They can make you smile-“ He started explaining, and you instantly cut him off.

“You make me smile, all the time.” You shook your head, but your affirmation only seemed to fuel his frustrations even more as he was up on his feet within the next second.

“But I’m not- I’m not fun.” He stated, staring you down. “My clock is ticking. I’m ill-tempered, irritable, too serious for my own good. I’m barely capable of taking care of myself at this point much less my son. I’m miserable and I’m a bully, who only cares about this job. Why would you want to be with someone like that?”

“Where is this coming from? I thought we had something good going.” Your face fell slightly, and you carefully reached your hands out to grab a hold of the front of his suit, taking a small step closer.

“Is this because of Stratton? Is he the one putting these doubts into your head?” You asked, keeping your eyes on your hands for a short moment before looking up to meet his heavy gaze staring down at you.

And once your eyes met his, he knew there was no point in lying; you were a profiler after all, and a good one at that.

“He did.” He confessed calmly, his lips pursing into a straight line.

“Aaron…” You began, the softness of your voice matching the one in your eyes.

“But everything he said is true.” He quietly interrupted you. “I’m not fun to be around, I push people away. That’s what I do, what I’ve always done.” His eyebrows rose and he stood still.

You knew about the doubts he had about himself. You know he felt inadequate as a friend, as a colleague, as a father, and more than anything as a partner after the way Haley had left him. You were aware of all of it, and yet the sound of those self-doubts being voiced aloud saddened you nonetheless.

Silence fell over the two of you for a moment as you took another step closer, flattening your palms out on his chest and your eyes never leaving his.

“Those people didn’t deserve you in the first place. They knew what they were getting themselves into when they started building a relationship with you, whether it be a romantical or purely platonic one. They knew how passionate you are about your job, how much you value it. Them leaving… That’s on them, not you.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I’m not about to give up on you, on us, just because you happen to be a few years older than me. Derek, he wants to have fun, to be young. He may be attracted to me but he doesn’t want anything serious. Spencer isn’t ready for a relationship either, for obvious reasons, and either way, they’re not the ones I want.”

He watched you intensely as you spoke, lips still tight and strained. “What is it that you want?” He asked you, and you wasted no time in replying.

“Something serious and stable, someone who’s ready to settle down, and for me, the best chance to get that is through you.” You smiled, breaking your eyes away from his to follow your hand as you moved it up to his face. “Regardless of what other people say, you’re an amazing person. You’re passionate, driven, kind, loyal, gentle, and so much more. Despite what you may think, you do have a sense of humor and you’re the only one who can make me smile until my cheeks hurt. If that’s not a good man, a good person, then I don’t know what is. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

By the time you finished, the remaining doubt was wiped free from his face, a small, gentle smile instead having taken its place.

It was a funny thing, Hotch only ever spared the tiniest of smiles, and yet it was them that brought you the biggest and most intense amount of happiness. It was so rare to see his ever-stoic features reflect joy that you couldn’t help but light up like a kid on Christmas every time it occurred.

And true to what you’d always been told growing up, your smile was just so contagious that he couldn’t help but to smile wider at the sight.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and visibly relaxed where he stood.

Your heart swelled in your chest when you took note of the way he was slowly but surely shuffling closer to you, picking up a significant amount of speed when you then felt his hand brush against the side of your hip.

But he didn’t dare touch you, hesitation still lingering in the air. So you did what your heart told you and grabbed a hold of his hand, and pushed it down into the curve of your waist.

From then on, he moved on his own, raising his other hand to mimic the same position at your other side, and you let your hand drop from his, instead raising them to busy with his crimson red tie.

“I know you’re struggling, with yourself, with Jack, and that you’re still processing the divorce. And if it’s time you want, then I’ll wait.” You spoke quietly, feeling your skin flush hot under his touch as his thumbs began to move over the thin fabric of your shirt. “But if you want to keep going and see where this can go, then I’ll be here every step of the way to support and help you in any way I can. You just need to let me in.”

More shyly then before, you dared loo back up at him through your lashes, hands stilling on his chest.

His smile was gone and his eyes creased together in concentration, but his eyes were soft and his head slowly nodded. “You’re right.” He said, and you allowed yourself to smile again.

“Aren’t I always?” You lightheartedly teased, tilting your head to the side.

In return, a smile spread across his face, his head shaking. “Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, no take-backs. What’s said is said.” You kept joking, your smile only widening.

He kept smiling down at you for a few seconds longer, but then his face fell again, just like that, out of nowhere, completely sudden. The gaze he held on your face grew absent as he got lost in his thoughts, and before you could question him about the sudden change of mood, the words spilled from his lips as if there was no tomorrow.

“I think I love you.”

Your mind instantly broke into a flurry of thoughts, countless emotions battling in your body. Nervosity and excitement ended up coming out on top, the mixture of the two creating an uncomfortable, sickly feeling in your stomach.

Your face fell in disbelief and your eyes searched his as he came back to reality.

“You do?”

Your voice came out so quiet and small, you mentally cursed yourself for sounding so pathetic, but luckily, you didn’t get much time to beat yourself up over the anticlimactic reacting as he continued.

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same way, but I needed to say it. Every day, this job puts all of our lives in danger. I couldn’t bear it if one of us died before I got the time to let you know how I feel.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling yourself growing weak at the knees as he absentmindedly rubbed your waist with his thumbs.

“Just a minute ago, you were trying to end… whatever this is, and now your proclaiming your love for me?” You asked. 

It was meant to be a joke, an attempt to ease the anxiety you were currently feeling, but you realized quickly that said anxiety made it sound like the exact opposite of a lighthearted, teasing joke.

Luckily, the man standing in front of you was a profiler and knew that you meant no harm, understanding how shock could render your ability to react appropriately.

“I was never trying to end what we have. I just wanted to be sure that you were sure. That I won’t be holding you back.” He explained, and you finally managed to pull yourself out of the state of shock.

“Being with you motivates me. And I love you, too.” You confessed, the smile once again returning to your face as you moved your hands from his chest to wrap around the back of his neck. 

“I’m happy to hear that.” He smiled right back. “Can I kiss you?” He quietly added, and your face instantly lit up in a mischievous expression.

“In the office?” You gasped dramatically, bringing your arms down, taking a step back and lightly slapping his chest. “Aren’t you feeling frisky today?”

A large smile stretched across his lips, his chest shaking as he chuckled. “Come here.” He said simply, and before you got the chance to argue, not that you would’ve if given the opportunity, he sat back down in his chair and pulled you down with him. 

The chair spun in the process, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your small laughs of glee quickly became muted as he placed his lips on yours, replaced by low hums of contentment. 

You clung to him as if your life depended on it, basking in the feeling of his lips moving against yours and his arms tightening around your waist, and as your entire body burned with passion, you realized that he really was the one for you.

Tagged: @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @zizzlekwum​ @cozytruecrimeaddict​ @lovelynervouskingdom​

(If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, send me a message, ask or leave a comment)

[sweetsubharry]

do you have any friends to lovers au full of fluffy?

Yes I do!! It is a favourite of mine so be warned there’s 36 fics in this rec!! Isn’t friends to lovers fluff just the best??  💖

Please stay safe and read the tags!!

It's A Start by Magiic_Shop

“This is dangerous, love,” Louis smirked, his lips pressed against Harry’s shoulder blade.

“Why’s that?” Harry asked.

“Because,” Louis’ smirk grew into a smile, “I might never want to let you go.”

Harry shifted against Louis, reaching up to cover Louis’ hand on his stomach with his own, “Then don’t.”

--

Or, the one where Harry can't sleep at night, and because of that, neither can Louis. Louis thinks it could be the start of something.

everything i can arrange, every part of me you change by orphan_account

“Don’t you try that shit with me,” Niall spits the second he reaches Louis, pulling off the hood with force. “What the hell is this?” He plops down next to Louis on the empty bleacher and unceremoniously pushes a sheet of crumpled paper in his face.

Netflix and Chill Buddy Application

It’s like no matter how hard Louis tries, he can’t seem to run away from this stupid fucking flyer. All the girls (and some of the boys) in every one of his classes have been talking about it all week. It’s on every wall of every building on campus. Louis went for a jog last night and he nearly tripped and died over a loose one on the football track.

[Harry needs a big spoon and Louis refuses to let anyone steal his position. Based on this post.]

One Plus One Is Also One (Sometimes) by justgotowisharder

“Dear Mrs. Sissy,” Anne read out loud and Harry only wanted the ground to swallow him up, “you asked me to write about my hero but I don’t have a hero, I have a superhero. Superheroes are better and have superpowers. My superhero is Louis Tomlinson.”

(Or the one where Louis Tomlinson isn’t really a superhero, but he’ll always do everything on his power to protect his baby Harry)

Love You But I Gotta Let Go by FallingLikeThis

Harry’s father is never going to be satisfied with anything that he does. But maybe that’s okay when his best friend is there, always cheering him on anyway.

Prompt 947: The despair of ever living up to his standards.

Pour Your Heart Out by hrrytomlinson

Louis is his soulmate. Or at least Harry thinks he is. Louis feels the same as Louis. But there are a lot of people named Louis in the world and this Louis might not be the Louis. It’s besides the point though, because Harry knows he can’t allow himself to get close to any boys. He just can’t and he’s told himself this multiple times. He has to simply stay away from Louis Tomlinson. But he can’t. Harry Styles can never stay away from Louis Tomlinson. It’s physically impossible for him to. 

Take This Sinking Boat and Point It Home by goodgirlfaith (boomersoonerash)

Five times Louis Proposes to Harry and the one time he doesn't.

Just Ask Me To by TellMeThisIsNotLove

“You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers.

“Of course I’m telling the truth!” Harry doesn’t even care that he sounds exasperated.

“Oh my god.” Louis grabs the wall behind him as if looking for support. His body slides down against it until he’s sitting crouched on the floor.

He mumbles something but Harry can’t really figure out what it is. He crouches down, and looks desperately at the breaking boy in front of him.

“You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers. “You were not supposed to–”

“I was not supposed to do what? Tell me please,” Harry urges, taking Louis’ hands gently in his.

Or the X Factor era canon fic where they learn how to be a couple and that not everyone is going to be on their sides especially those with plain white t-shirts and saccharine smiles.

Burning Skies by emeraldharry 

They both watched as ice and fire danced across their palms, hypnotized by the small things they could do with their powers. Snowflakes swirled around each other as the mist twisted about like a small tornado, while the fire in Louis' hands swayed and twirled gracefully—bright and warm and beautiful.Before, Harry couldn't even think of touching him with the fear of turning his skin to ice. Now, he knew that Louis wasn't some ordinary human to shy away from. Louis was bright, fiery flames, a body of powerful waves of heat. Louis was everything he was not, his polar opposite, but it was all the more reason that they fit together just right.or[Mutant au: Harry likes to think he's normal. Except, normal boys don't freeze everything they touch. Louis thinks he's perfect just the way he is and shows him just that. Zayn is a telekinetic, Liam is a rising YouTube star, and Niall is the best human best friend there is.]

I see the love light in your eyes by larrycaring

For as long as Harry can remember, Louis has always been his best friend.

There are a few constant things in Harry’s life: his family, this town he’s grown up in, and Louis.

He had his other friends, of course, but Louis had always been and still was the person that Harry was closest to. Maybe it was due to the fact that they live next to each other, and that, since the first night they’d talked, when he and Louis shared a conversation on their conjoining roofs, they instantly hit off, and a friendship developed. Or maybe it was that Louis was always so cheeky, almost the opposite of Harry, but it complimented Harry’s slow and thoughtful way of life perfectly. Either way, it just kind of happened.

or an AU where Louis and Harry are very much in love. Featuring football & late night rendezvous.

you fit me better than my favourite sweater by brightbluelou

Harry didn't mean to fall in love with his best friend, and he definitely didn't mean to get pregnant. Despite that, it’s probably still the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And after that, well. It just kept getting better.

or; the one where Harry and Louis are friends-with-benefits and Harry unexpectedly gets pregnant. Harry never wants to stop getting pregnant after that, but Louis thinks seven kids is probably enough.

put your head on my shoulder by wayfared

Niall gives Harry until the end of marching season to either a) make a move on Louis Tomlinson or b) get the fuck over him. Either is easier said than done. Basically, your High School AU with a drum beat.

My Only Sunshine by DontLetHimGo

Harry and Louis have known each other since the start of everything.

When Harry is only a few weeks old, and Louis is two, the older boy is immediately intrigued by the little person in the carry cot. Jay knows that it will be difficult to keep her son away from her best friend's little boy.

baby, hold on to my heart by icaarusfalls

Here was the dilemma: Louis and Harry were out with their mates window shopping because there was nothing else to do and Louis brought an antique ring, hoping to pawn it off to get some quick cash. It was a small, old thing, all rusted and gold, but it had its charm. The owner didn't take it because of the minuscule crack down the middle of the jewel, so Louis just shrugged and handed it to Harry without a thought.

—•—

Louis gives Harry a ring as a joke, but Harry starts wearing the ring everywhere he goes.

So Put Your Hands In (The Holes of My Sweater) by Kat_rawr

“Are you gonna kiss me then?” He asks so quiet he isn’t even sure Louis heard him.

“I think it’s bad luck if I don’t.“ Louis’ breath is hot on Harry’s skin in the cold air. They stand in the dark; Louis’ face only lit up by the yellow-ish light from the street light a few metres away. The light over the door of their building hasn’t worked in years.

“Okay,” Harry says, and of course his cheeks heat up. There are definitely butterflies in stomach and his mouth is definitely dry.

or,

Harry and Louis go on a lot of not-dates.

It's the Sun In Your Eyes by Bearandleonardwrite

Harry's not the best with relationships. Then he finds Louis.

(Basically; Harry's insecure and hurt, but Louis loves him anyways and knows how to help.)

Sun-Dappled by QuickedWeen

Louis and his best friend Harry are in their seventh year at Hogwarts, facing down their future together. Louis has been in love with his best friend for as long as he can remember, and he begins to feel a sense of urgency as the second semester begins. Finally he hatches a plan to tell Harry about his feelings on Harry's birthday.

Stop Making Tired Excuses by midnightskies

Louis hates many things; cold tea, countdown, tuesdays, and university, but most of all he absolutely, categorically despises Eric Davidson, current boyfriend of Harry Styles. 

nonstop earthquake dreams of you by lumineres

And there's heat behind it, blazing, plasmatic, like stars crashing together, like an explosion in space, like a supernova, like a black hole--everything else sucked out of existence. There's no bed and there's no pillow and they're not lying down, just floating somewhere, somehow, and there's no room and there's no X Factor house and there's no Niall snuffling or Liam's deep, even breathing and there's no wind or traffic outside and there's no hum of the heating unit and it's all just Louis. All encompassingly Louis.

or, harry falls hard and finds louis already at the bottom

every december (your star lights the sky) by larrystomlinsons

Louis needs a date for the Christmas dance and Harry is the wingman that has feelings for him.

Counting The Steps Between Us by zarah5

AU. So, yeah. That year abroad helped Harry establish that he is in love with his best friend. Now, if Louis would stop treating him like a little brother, that would be awesome. (Additional ingredients: a collapsing tree house, a lot of pining, the other three boys as Louis' new best mates from university, and a camping trip. Serve hot.)

waiting on the sun by midnights

A third year counselor at Camp Weehawken, Louis just wants to get through the summer without accidentally professing his love to Harry during movie night.

ft. night swimming, lots of cuddles, and even more fluff.

Right From the Start (You Know I Got You) by FallingLikeThis

Louis grows up protecting Harry. Harry loves him for it.

Let Me Give You My Life by midnightskies

Gemma has one rule for Louis while he stays with her family at Christmas; not to hook up with her little brother, so of course that's the one thing Louis does.

deep in my heart i know there's only you by ballsdeepinjesus

"Will you do it?” Harry whispers. Louis has to lean closer just to hear him. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, not knowing what Harry means. “Would you donate for me?”

Louis is dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, I thought you just asked if I’d donate my sperm. Can you repeat yourself?”

[harry and louis are best friends who engage in some platonic baby-making. very platonic.]

You Are The View by larryftnoctrl

Louis is running out on time for his photography assignment and Harry looks lovely in red. It only made sense.

the most beautiful thing by sunflowergolden

“Well, I came prepared of course. I actually have a full on suit with me.”He had to be joking. “Lou, you have to be joking. There’s no way you took a full on suit with you all the way from the States.”“I was raised right, H. You never know when you’re going to need it, so you take it with you. In case a cute boy asks you out.”or, the one where louis and harry have been friends for a while, but they live 5.404 miles away from each other, and louis goes to stay with harry for a week

Take Me As I Am by lovelarry10

“Suppressant? But… why would I need a suppressant? Alphas don’t take suppressants.”

“You’re right, they don’t.”

****

Secrets. Lies. Deception. Betrayal. Self-discovery.

Alpha. Omega. How far will they go to hide the truth?

don't call me baby by 28sunflowers

A short and cliché roommates AU inspired by To Be So Lonely, where they’re both oblivious to each other’s feelings and Harry gets sad and jealous over nothing. It works out in the end.

Spin Me Like A Record by zarah5

Uni AU. Sometimes, Louis poses as Harry’s boyfriend. It doesn’t mean anything. Really.

Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic by larrycaring

Call him hopelessly romantic, but Harry was convinced Louis was the one for him. He had never really believed in love at first sight until his special person had come along and stolen his heart. And really, as soon as he had first met Louis on the train, Harry had felt something. Their love, at first sight, had started when they had met, and it had never ended since they had found each other. Harry hadn’t known it back then, of course, but even during his first encounter with Louis, he had felt that fluttering feeling from deep down inside, when Louis had first smiled at him. It had been like gravity had moved, and nothing had mattered more than him.

or even in a magical world, Louis and Harry's love is the most magical and beautiful thing in the world, Zayn is the smart Ravenclaw who falls for his best friend, Liam's true feelings are revealed and Niall is Niall.

or my first Larry Hogwarts AU that I just had to write.

Close your eyes (and let the word paint a thousand pictures) by larrycaring

They were attached at the hip as soon as they met on the Hogwarts Express. They became good friends within the first week of school, and from that day on, Harry just kind of snuck his way right into Louis’ heart. It’s just his charming side, his genuine and caring personality, his stupid puns (and now pick-up lines) that make Louis laugh his ass off, and his bravery and determination. His endless support and loyalty, his friendship… Everything about him, Louis loves. Merlin’s beard, he’s truly gone for him. And he doesn’t know how to tell Harry.

or another Hogwarts AU where Harry thinks it’s a good idea to use cheesy pick-up lines to reveal his feelings to Louis.

Faking It by TheCellarDoor

A uni AU in which Louis has been Harry’s best friend since he offered him cubed fruit on the playground, and they spend more time cuddling in their dorm beds than they do apart, but it’s not like that. Or is it?

Aka Harry pretends to date his best friend to escape unwanted attention from a too insistent classmate and hopes it won’t blow up in his face. Featuring embarrassing dildo accidents, awkward boners, longing, first times, late night conversations, emotional discoveries and Niall as the exasperated friend with bad advice.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

A Real Work of Art by lululawrence

“I don’t understand,” Liam said for probably the fiftieth time in ten minutes. “You have to explain again how this is a bad thing.”

“Leeeeyummm,” Harry whined into the phone as he leaned his head onto his desk. “I felt like this year was my year for getting his attention, you know? That senior year I would finally get Logan Thompson to realize I exist! But he’s in almost every single one of my classes, Li. How am I supposed to survive that?”

“Easily,” Liam answered, with the same matter of fact tone his voice always took when Harry was in one of his fits. “He doesn’t know you exist, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Right?”

Or the one where Harry calls on an old friend, the super popular Louis Tomlinson, to help him change his look to capture the heart of Logan. Things only mostly go as planned.

wanna taste your heart, don't interfere by orphan_account

Harry still remembers how unsure he felt when he first told Louis, how self-conscious he was. Louis had been nothing but understanding and kind, though, reassuring him that nothing’s going to change between them, that they’re still best friends regardless of sex. Harry had been mostly relieved at that, because he really doesn’t want to lose Louis as a friend over this, but another part of him had been a bit sad because… well, because nothing changed between them. Or rather, there is change, but it’s completely one-sided as far as Harry can tell.

This change being him not getting enough of the way Louis smells. He just can’t help it, is the thing, unable to stop himself from trying to subtly press his nose against the fabric of Louis’ shirt by his shoulders. He still smells like faint cologne and sweat, which is enough to make Harry start feeling slightly dizzy.

(harry presents as an omega, louis is his alpha best friend, and there are hidden feelings that just get harder to control.)

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

this is a wip but it is updated regularly, almost finished, and I highly recommend it!!

[kingreywrites]

Beyond Those Trees

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2263

Eugene Appreciation Week Day One: Childhood

Summary: When he was five, Eugene climbed a tree.

Note: i am very very weak for orphanage stories so here is a self-indulgent one asfhdghj also i generally hc that lance grew up for a few years with his parents before losing them (around the time he was six or seven) and then going to the orphanage and meeting eugene, which is why he won't really be there because they haven’t met yet ;;

Read on ao3

When he was five, Eugene climbed a tree. 

He shouldn't have climbed that tree. He knew the matrons at the orphanage would be mad at him, and tell him that he was causing trouble again, that he should stop making it more difficult on them by being up to no good all the time. Something like that, at least; he heard the sermon often enough. 

But, for all that they hated when he did stupid stuff, it wasn't like the matrons paid much attention to him in the first place. Not enough to stop him, in any case. As long as they didn't know, it would be fine, and Eugene knew they wouldn't notice anything if he did it before they checked where he was. So he left the orphanage right after lunch, went to the big old tree not too far at the edge of the village, and decided to climb it. He saw the older boys do it a few days before - they weren't his friends, and so he had been too shy to join them, but now he knew how to do it, and he wasn't gonna wait anymore. 

He wanted to do the same thing as Flynnigan Rider on the cover of his favourite book, the one he was painstakingly learning to read with. On it, the adventurer stood tall on the branch of a tree, looking towards the sun rising on the horizon. The rays of sunlight were the same colour as his treasure, and the golden accents were in relief - Eugene had traced them with his finger time and time again, yearning for a life like this one.

So Eugene climbed a tree. It wasn't too hard, and he was very proud of himself, because he knew the older boys had needed each other to get up there, but he had done it all alone. He reached the thickest branch he could see, stood up tall, and... well, Vardaros was not as pretty as the city drawn on his book, and the sun wasn't exactly rising, but it still looked wicked cool, in his own words.

If you had asked him then, he would have said that this was the best moment of his life.

He was bored after exactly four minutes. To be fair, there wasn't much to do on a tree, and he really wanted to go tell everyone about what he did - except the matrons, of course. Anyway, he reasoned, Flynnigan probably didn't stay there long either, instead running off to go on new adventures, which was exactly what Eugene was going to do. 

Eugene looked down. 

Climbing had taken him mere minutes. He had been so focused on his goal that he did not even stop to think about the height, or anything, really. But he looked down, and suddenly the distance to the ground was nauseating, and the closest branch seemed miles away. Leaning on the trunk, feeling small, Eugene shakily tried to extend his foot towards it, before immediately giving up. 

He... He was scared. 

As he remembers it today, the tree was the tallest thing he had ever seen, reaching towards the sky, nearly on par with the clouds. When he came back during his teenage years - when Eugene wasn't his name anymore and his dreams had drastically changed - he saw the tree again, and realised that it was simply a sad, old tree, who wasn't even that tall compared to those in Corona's luxurious forests.

But he had been five. He had been five, and little, and scared, so he had decided to stay on the tree, and wait for someone to notice his absence. Wait for someone to come help him. 

And he waited. And he waited. 

The sunset had been prettier, bathing the entire town in red and golden light, just like on his book. He hadn't really appreciated it. 

(When he tells this story, he always acts as if he had tried to distract himself, and that was it. He doesn't talk about the tears, and the heart wrenching loneliness he had felt, certain in that way kids were that this was permanent.) 

Exhaustion and fear got the best of him, and he fell asleep. When he woke up, he was still here, and no one had come. 

The sun was rising this time. Eugene got up, looked down, and something clicked for him. No one would come. He was cold, and scared, and hungry too, but no one would come, and so there was only one person who could save him. Only one daring adventurer, ready to brave his fear and save the day.

He tried to convince himself that this hero was him. Despite how terrified he felt, he was an adventurer, he was just like Flynnigan Rider, and Flynnigan never backed down when faced with a challenge.

"If it's not possible, it's not worth doing," he muttered, before jumping to the nearest branch.

Miraculously, he reached it. The same couldn't be said for the next branch, and he fell heavily to the ground.

He remembers pain exploding in his arm, staying on the ground for a long, long time, and then making his way back painfully, stomach growling loudly.

"Eugene?"

Rapunzel's voice breaks him out of his narration, and he looks at her, squeezing her hand lightly. They're both sitting in the special spot he found on the roof, an easily accessible ledge giving one of the best views on Corona.

"Yeah?"

"You said… You said this was a funny story," she remarks, tone hesitant, uselessly tucking a strand of her short hair behind her ear.

"It is!" he exclaims. "After spending all day and night away, I was so sure I would find the orphanage in absolute chaos that the whole way back I prepared a lie about going to fight off bandits or something. Imagine my surprise when not only no one had noticed I was gone, but the adults were even mad at me because I was late for my chores!"

He chuckles, and stops when he sees the lack of amusement in Rapunzel's eyes.

"It's funny because… I was being overdramatic?" he tries. Her frown deepens. "Guess you had to be there…"

"You were five," she protests. She's the one who takes his hand this time, an intensity he hadn't expected in her eyes. "You were five, and alone, and- no one cared you were gone?"

He opens his mouth, and closes it, unsure how to proceed. That wasn't the reaction he had expected. And, in all honesty, the way she said it did make the story sound sad, but it wasn't! He… They cared, he thinks, they would have if they had noticed because, at the very least, they would be in trouble with the law if they had lost a kid. They cared… They simply didn't know he had left.

"I got up to a lot of mischief at the time," he finally answers. "They were busy, and probably assumed I was out causing trouble."

Rapunzel stays silent after that. She holds his hand on her lap, and gently rests her head on his shoulder, while they both look at the view. The sun is setting on the horizon, bright and burning, the entire town glowing orange because of it.

Eugene sighs, and finally rests his head on top of hers, enjoying the soft brush of her hair against his cheek. Maybe this story isn't as funny as he remembers it. He's good at turning every little anecdote into something grandiose, entertaining whoever is willing to listen with his lively retelling, but… It's different, with Rapunzel. Everything is.

There's no hesitation to have when he says she cares, for one. Maybe she shouldn't, but she does, more than anyone ever did. She's also the first person in his life he doesn't want to lie to. The first person he doesn't feel like he has to lie to. She saw the worst of him already, saw how much of a selfish, useless jerk he could be, and she… she still loves him, for some reason. It's difficult to phantom, sometimes, and in the last month since their first meeting, Eugene kept worrying that he would wake up someday, and this dream would have ended as quickly as it started.

He's used to being forgotten, after all.

"I think we'd have been friends," Rapunzel whispers, interrupting his thoughts. "If we met, as kids. I think we'd have been friends."

"I was a troublemaker," he breathes out softly, still resting on her, "Sometimes, I acted out some scenes from my books, and it often ended with broken windows. You probably would have found me annoying."

"Oh I don't know, I think I would have enjoyed acting out those scenes with you, Mr Troublemaker," Rapunzel teased. "Though… Maybe you wouldn't have liked me. I was a bit of a crybaby when I was a kid, and not a great adventurer."

For a second, Eugene is glad she can't see him, because he knows his sadness for her must show. His heart tightens each time she mentions her childhood, and he remembers how lonely she had been, all alone in her tower.

"I would have loved you," is all he answers, and it's not even a lie. There's no universe in which he doesn't like Rapunzel, he's pretty sure of that, and even then… He had loved the younger kids, at the time. When he grew up a little, got over his tree adventure, and decided that he wasn't gonna be like the older kids he had known - he had read them stories, and had helped the new kids adapt, and had felt both happy and sad when they got adopted, and he inevitably wasn't.

And then… Then he started stealing, and it all went downhill from there.

"I would have loved you too," Rapunzel echoes, a bit too intensely. "We would have played together all the time, and- And I would have noticed that you were gone. I would have helped you come down from that tree."

They're still hugging. Still looking at the view, though Eugene is not seeing much of it, too focused on her words. He wants to joke that she couldn't have been more than one year old at the time, that she would have had trouble doing anything, but the deflection doesn't feel right. She's squeezing his hand tight, and he understands what she's trying to say, understands what she's trying to make him see.

"I know," he whispers, because he does. He knows she cares about him. He knows- He knows she wouldn't forget him. As much as he worries, deep down he knows she loves him, because she tells him and shows him in every little moment.

Rapunzel shifts, and they finally meet each other's eyes again.

"Do you know how I found you here?" she asks.

"Uh…" Eugene hesitates, thrown off by the subject change.

To be perfectly honest, he had come here because he was bored out of his mind, since Rapunzel was taken by her princess lessons, and no one really cared where he went as long as he didn't cause trouble. And then, all alone here with the sun shining warmly on his face, and the ledge offering more than enough space to stretch, Eugene had simply… fallen asleep.

Before waking up to Rapunzel curiously peering down at him, which surprised him so much it nearly made him fall off the roof. Thankfully, she had quick reflexes, and caught him, but she had looked spooked and he had wanted to make her feel better, thus the tree story he had been reminded of with this adventure.

"Usually, when my lessons are over, you always manage to find me and let me talk to you about my day, or try to take me on a date even when Cassandra says we can't, or… Well," Rapunzel chuckles softly, "what I mean is that you're always there. And today… Today you weren't."

"Oh," he breathes out.

"Cass said there was no reason to worry, and I knew she was right, but- but what if, you know? What if you were in trouble, or what if you had gotten hurt somewhere and couldn't come, or- or… I was worried," she sighs, looking down.

Gently, he put his hand on her chin, and made her raise her head again. The thing is, he does know what she was talking about. That worry gnawing at his insides every time he can't find her, and doesn't know where she is, he understands that all too well.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," she immediately corrects. "I simply… I notice your absence. Always, all the time, I notice when you are there or not, and I care about that. If… If you ever were in trouble, if you ever disappeared, I would find you, I promise."

When he sees the honesty in her eyes, Eugene thinks back to that little kid crying all alone on the branch of a too big tree. He thinks about him, growing up, meeting people he loved, finding a best friend in Lance, and yet continuing to ruin all of that little by little, because he was so sure the only way to carve his place in this world was by doing it alone.

He had been an idiot, he knows.

"I know you would, Sunshine," Eugene says. "I would too." Because now that they have each other, he knows that, no matter what, they will never let the other feel lonely ever again.