#i can write smthn longer if youd like!

[breannasfluff]

so like hi there i have a Ravioli hurt/comfort fic plot im not gonna write but i thought youd enjoy it so ima over explain it in your Ask box!

Okay okay okay so A link between worlds right so for this were gonna pretend it was before A links awakening for the ✨Story✨ 

So in A links awakening Links gf is fucking a seagull or a dream or smthn right kinda fucked up, well you see Ravio already kinda lives with Link at this point and there kinda dating but not so Link comes back home from his adventure and Ravio is  so fucking exited and like "Mr. Hero your home! oh in sk glad i was so lonely how did Hylia treat you are you okay do you need something want to lie down? are you injured" But then Links jusy standing in the fuckjng door way like, Shit Ravio did i forgot about him? i mean i fell in love with Marin that's basically replacing him, Marin... i mean fuck she was a dream does that count i still fell i  love with her though thats fuvked up i replaced ravio fuck fuck fuck. 

abd then he fucking passes out

but then after that Link still having a crisis avoids Ravio as much as he can, whichhhhhhhh is not mych considering theu live in the same house, sleep in the same room, and eat the breakfast ravio made together. but he tries. and when Ravio tries to confront Link he is overwhelmed and doesnt know what tk say so he just anounced an impromptu visit to his sister saying he wants to update her on his adventure.

so he leaves and Ravios confused and a little hurt while Link feels like shit and also confused.

He does get to Zelda and she rightfully slaps some sense into Link because wtf are you thinking, your upset yes but he can help you he doesnt have to know everything but atlest tell him hey i dont hate you

so Link dramatically goes running back to his kinda boyfriend who feels like shit and collapsaes at ravios feet gushing out how he loves him and he fell in love with someone else and he feels horible and shes kinda gone anyways she wasn't actually real and link is fucking truamatized from his gf jot actually being real and the  ravio goes and hugs him and they do a cute little communication thing and Ravios like hey fuck ur all good i live you to its fine you fell in love with Marin it fucking sucks shes dead can i help at all??     

and there all cute and cuddly and Link deals with some Truama in a healthy way fir once       

anyways that was much longer then anticipated i just have alot of thoughts about them

im noy gonna write it tho cas thats like  of work and im still only on work 3 for wumptober and my wip list is st like 10 and jts like sir wtf is going on

so yeah hope you like it! uhm have fun ig

Oh boy, yeah, that would be pretty angsty! And a good topic for therapy/couple’s counseling on falling in love and forgetting your boyfriend 😂

[unreqite]

     “    SOMETHING   TELLS   ME,   aurora   and   minerva  would   hit   it   off   !   ----   we   should   arrange   for   a   playdate   sometime   !   “    /   @stahlritter​

[tsauergrass]

hey love! i was wondering if youd write me a lil smthn of drarry? really anything. im really sick and stressed rn and i just wanted to read something from one of my favorite writers

Darling, I am so, so sorry that I’m late. I noticed it just last night, either tumblr or my phone decided its notifications would not work :( I probably didn’t make it in time but I still hope this makes you feel better!

For all the others: There are still asks in my inbox, and I am working through them! I’ve just been busy lately so don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten them!

***

 “What was that?”

 Draco shakes his head, still mumbling. Harry wants to ask but doesn’t. Drops his head instead, stuffs the cherries back under the pie crust. Under the kitchen light, they gleam like jewels.

 Draco smears a streak of flour across his cheeks, brows furrowed.

 Of course he knows Draco used to speak French. He knows that Draco still speaks it, too, sometimes, even though he’s spoken English ever since Hogwarts—like an afterthought, a slipped music note. Just a mumbling, or when he stubs his toe into the corner of a table leg—a string of curses flowing out of his mouth like a poem. Or during sleep. When he stirs, sleep marks tender on his cheek, his face half-buried into the pillows—hair tousled. Lips parted, as if the syllables were still on the tip of his tongue, still floating through his dreams.

 Harry has always been a little afraid to kiss him, then. Like afraid to poke a dream awake.

 The pies were sent into the oven, the timer set. Draco reaches his arms behind his back and attempts to untie the apron. He doesn’t seem to succeed, though, brows furrowing again as he grumbles, irritated. Harry laughs and walks over, pulls the tie loose. Touches his fingers to Draco’s.

 Draco sighs faintly, shoulders loosening.

 “What were you saying just then?” Harry mumbles into the nook behind Draco’s ears.

 “Oh.” Draco turns a little towards Harry, distracted. “It was nothing.”

 “Still. I want to know.”

 “Just murmuring to myself, is all.”

 “Yeah?” Harry kisses him. A peck, light on the lips. “Is that what it was?”

 Draco smiles faintly. “Yes.”

 Harry kisses him again, another peck. Then another, and another. Draco hums, hips bumping into the counter. Harry kisses him again, just a little longer.

 “Are you trying to bribe me?” Draco laughs softly, enjoying himself. “With kisses?”

 Harry kisses him again. Longer, this time, his hand coming up to cup Draco’s cheek. Fingers threading through the short tufts of hair by his ears. He can’t quite hide the curve of his smile, can’t quite stop himself from grinning—feels the echoing curve of Draco’s at his lips. Pulls away when Draco is just about to open his mouth.

 Draco huffs, annoyed.

 “Come on.”

 “Circe, you are such a pain.”

 “I don’t have to be. I think I heard…cœur? Mon cœur?”

 “Mon cœur, yes.” Draco looks away, cheeks tinging pink. “It means you oaf.”

 “Oaf?” Harry frowns slightly, but soon grins again. “Oh, you’re mon cœur then. You’re clumsy.”

 “I am not clumsy.”

 “Yes you are. You couldn’t get the cherries to stay under the crust.” Harry tugs at the loosened apron, chuckles when it slides off Draco’s shoulder instead. He pulls Draco closer by his sweater. “Mon cœur. Co...cœur? Mon cœur?”

 “Oh, shut up.”

 Harry’s retort is on the tip of his tongue when Draco kisses him. Shuts him up, all blushed cheeks and awkward hands. Harry slackens, opens his mouth. Tilts his head, angling them deeper. Draco’s hips dig into the counter, the fallen apron pressed tight between them, wrinkled.

 The thing is, they’ve never had pet names for each other. It’s always been Draco and Harry. Draco. If he says it slow enough, he can taste the shape of the word, how it twinkles like stars on his tongue: two syllables rolling after each other, years and years of history in them. How far they’ve come for him to call him Draco instead of Malfoy. How Draco had blushed when he first called him by his name that Harry never thought to change any other wise. Such intimacy in two syllables that every time he says it, it sounds like a poem in itself. A lock none other than the both of them can decipher, like whispering love.

 They kiss, slow. Deep. There is no reason to feel tender, to feel laid bare—yet he does. Draco’s hands come to clutch at his jumper.

 “It doesn’t mean you oaf, does it?” Harry murmurs into Draco’s mouth.

 Draco shakes his head, still dazed. Lips still parted.

 “What does it mean?”

 “My heart,” Draco whispers.

 Oh.

 “Oh.” Harry lets out a laugh, nudges their noses together. “You’re still mon cœur, then.”

 “And you are going back to Scarhead,” Draco murmurs. “That pronunciation is atrocious.”

 Harry laughs and presses their foreheads together. Draco is blushing fiercely down his neck. Harry pecks him again, playful.

 “Mon cœur?”

 “Mon cœur,” Draco echoes, closing his eyes.

 That night, the cherries taste sweeter than usual.