#molly my darling my dear my beloved--

[dent-de-leon]

The Tealeafs and Ruidus the red moon liking red... red being consistent in their lives to the point their abilities are blood based...

Hmmm... I've made a connection, don't know what yet, but I've made it.

Ohh yes there's definitely something I love about this!!

Lucien, born with eyes a deep crimson red. Called a devil and treated like an outsider all his life because of his infernal blood. Lucien using that same blood to try and desperately take back some sense of autonomy--spilling his own blood for just a taste of more power, gambling his life in every fight.

Fate is a funny thing. And Lucien would know that, being fate touched--but...I think about Lucien making himself bleed. Lucien born with these piercing red eyes. And I wonder if it's just coincidence that the Somnovem chose to brand him, and their eyes were all bright red--

Molly crawling his way out of the grave under a burning, blood red moon. (Lucien's Eyes were once compared to the vermillion light of Ruidus too--) Molly having to wake up every day and see his infernal red eyes in the mirror--knows villagers will flinch at his gaze, curse his name. And how hard he tries to cover up the nine red Eyes that brand his skin, the terrible fate he inherited from Lucien. Molly dreaming of a nightmarish, twisting city in a sea of red, and--I wonder if a part of him starts to hate that color--

Except. Even as much as it's associated with everything that's hurt him, we know he still loves it. Falls for Lestera with her long red hair and her flashy red coat. Cradles her lovingly hand embroidered coat to his heart, and cherishes it so much, he wears it every day. And even as his memories of her all start to fade, he holds onto that image, that piece of her he always carried with him. "There was a--oh. There was a circus. And a...a beautiful woman, in a red coat. She was telling me secrets, showing me how to keep secrets. Show secrets--I...Where's the woman? No, not her...where's the woman--"

I think about Jester offering to make him a new coat as King, "Do you want it to be a red coat? I mean, you were dreaming of it." Kingsley politely declining, "Mm...maybe black for now." But...months later, he's wearing a dashing red coat.

I think of Lestera being buried on a bed of red roses, and then the comic using red roses to represent Molly's tarot card, The Fool. How perfectly it suits the way Molly's whole character is built upon being a romantic at heart. Taliesin describing every incarnation of Tealeaf as, "Kingsley really latched onto the pirate life, and that's what happened with any of the other Molly's and Nonagon's--they imprint really hard on whatever's there that looks romantic and fun! It's romance, fun, and I have an audience."

Red like blood and roses; red for Lucien's draw to danger, for Molly's passion and romance. When Tealeaf starts to fall for Caleb, I wonder if he loves that his hair is red--

[esmerose]

Hello Es,

It's been a while. I was wondering about the ring Alastor gave you. Even though you can use your powers without its help now does the ring still possess the power to protect you and do you still wear it? You look absolutely stunning as always.

Hello Molly,

Thank you! It has been a while, I hope you're doing well, dear!

I absolutely still wear the ring my beloved gave me, it is a symbol of our marriage after all! As to whether or not it possesses the power to protect me, I'm afraid I can't say until Artemis finishes the third book about our story.

She's been working so hard to interview us on the details that have transpired, and I would hate to disturb her work.

I hope you have a fabulous day, darling! 😊

~ E.H 🖤

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

Not me watching the proud family reboot: How about two or more members of the Akuma Class step into a Bizarro universe?

Nino: Guys, does something seem… Off?

Marinette: How do you mean?

Nino: Oh, maybe just the fact that Juleka is wearing pastels and Rose is dressed in all black! *Points to Juleka eating pink twizzlers and Rose reading The Raven*

Alya: … It’s probably a couples thing. We swapped shirts that one time.

Nino: By accident, because we were tired. But, I’m serious, there’s something off. *Notices Marc texting* Hey, Marc! Quick question. Have you noticed anything… Strange?

Marc: *Southern accent* Weird how? Like them crop circles that Area 51 over in the states ain’t tellin’ us about? No, sir, I reckon I ain’t seen nothin’ of the sorts.

Marinette/Adrien/Alya/Nino: …

Adrien: Why are you talking like that? How are you talking like that?

Marc: You got issues with the way I be talkin’? I’m getting some real fighting words from you, Mr. Fancy Boy!

Nathaniel: *British accent* Marc, my beloved, deep breaths, dear. This bellicose behavior is most unwarranted.

Marinette: Nathaniel?!

Adrien: Why are you talking like that?

Nathaniel: Pray tell, Adrien. Whatever do you mean?

Adrien: Like that! So… Eloquent.

Marc: Shoot, he always been talkin’ all fancy like. S’why he be writing for our whole-ass comic.

Nathaniel: Darling, mind your language, if you please. Many are not used to your colorful vocabulary as I. Now, come along. You promised to escort me to class.

*Marinette, Alya, Adrien, and Nino watch them leave*

Marinette: That was weird, right?

Nino: Not as weird as that. *Points to Denise and Simon*

Simon: ¿Cómo tuve la bendición de estar en presencia de tanta belleza?

Denise: Boy, I don’t got time to be listening to whatever the hell you’re saying! ‘Sides, I need a man, and not a twig. *Flips their hair and leaves*

Simon: Maldita sea, me gustan ardientes.

Alya: Why is Simon speaking Spanish?!

*Alix walks by with a huge diamond ring on her finger*

Nino: Alix, nice bling.

Alix: Thanks. My man bought it for me.

Marinette: Okay, NOW this is weird! Who exactly is-

Ismael: *Slings an arm around Alix’s waist* ‘Sup, baby? Come and give me some love. *Alix kisses him* Yeah, you know how I like it.

Marinette/Alya/Nino/Adrien: 😱

Nino: This isn’t weird anymore. This is horrific.

*They walk into their classroom and find Kim tutoring Max while he spins a basketball on his finger, Ivan and Myléne drinking from non-reusable plastic water bottles, Sabrina wearing all sorts of expensive clothing, and Chloé on her phone*

Marinette: Well, at least Chloé is normal.

Chloé: Marinette! You don’t wanna miss this, my Chlo-Coin is about to go Bezos. If you ever need a little assist, lemme know and I’ll front you.

Marinette: … What?!

Chloé: Yeah! You know I’m a sucker for giving money away!

Marinette: I-I don’t know what to say.

Chloé: Just don’t forget to invite me to your private island when you cash in!

Alya: … That ain’t right.

*Later*

Marinette: Oh, boy. Don’t look now.

*The Austins approach them*

Nino: Look, we’re in no mood, guys, so just keep walking!

Austin T: … *Runs away crying*

Austin Q: He was offering you a flyer to the anti bullying assembly, you jerk! *Runs after Austin T* TeeTee! Come back!

Austin A: Now you gonna get it. *Leaves*

Austin B: *Without looking up from his game console, he flips him off and leaves*

Nino: The Austins are nice, now? Man, I’m conflicted. *Jean suddenly pins him to the wall* Whoa! Jean, what the hell?!

Jean: What’d you say to my boy, Lahiffe?! Wanna explain why I just saw him crying?! Huh?!

Nino: I-I didn’t mean anything-

Jean: I got three rules set in this hellhole! Three! Never touch the hair. Have your cash out and ready when you see me. And hurt my baby, you die.

Austin T: *Runs over and grabs Jean’s arm* Sweetie, he’s not worth it. And I don’t want you having another suspension on your record.

Jean: … You’re lucky I don’t Molly whop you today, Lahiffe. *Snatches serveral euros out of his pockets* I’m taking this! C’mon, baby, let’s dip. *He and Austin T leave*

Adrien: Okay, so Jean is a bully and Austin T is a nice guy. Good to know. Who’s left?

Zoé: One side, blondie! *Pushes Adrien aside and approaches Cosette reading a book* ‘Sup, hot stuff? What do you say we skip the day?

Cosette: Ugh, I’d rather lose my position as the top of the class and my mother’s favorite child than go out with the class delinquent and tarnish my flawless attendance. Goodbye, yankee. *Tosses her hair and leaves*

Zoé: Yeah, they want me.

Nino: So, that just leaves-

Lacey: Aurore! Get down from there, or you’ll die!

Aurore: *Relaxing on the roof next to a bottle of cranberry juice* Chill, Lace! I’m just catching up on a few naps I missed while I was in class!

Lacey: You’re not even supposed to sleep during class! You’re only going to fall behind, and how did you get up there?!

Mireille: Oh, just shut the fuck up! If she wants to chill out on the roof, let her chill out on the fucking roof!

[harrypotterbrainworms]

Kissing at The Burrow

Summary: “hi love! can I request a drabble about george bringing his boyfriend for the first time to the burrow? have a great day! 💕”

Pairing: George Weasley x Male Reader

Key: (Y/N)- your name.

Word Count: 921

“Come on, dearies. In the house, it’s boiling outside. No sunburns again.” Mrs. Weasley rounded up a record of 8 children into the burrow in time for supper.

“Muum” Fred groaned, a very illegal set of muggle fireworks in his arms. Everyone looked cheery for the display, but immediately followed Molly in as their stomachs growled.

(Y/N) had never been in such chaos, it was the first time he’d ever gone to the burrow and while he was excited, he was just about as nervous too. Firsts were a stressful thing.

“Harry, (Y/N), just relax in the dining room will you?” Molly shooed the boys away, being left to their own devices in the empty living room… not for long though.

“How’s it going, love?” George was right there behind him, according to Mrs. Weasley, he should’ve been grabbing the extra chairs, sweeping the floor and taking out the plates.

“Are you supposed to be working?” He asked with a slight smirk on his face. He wanted to see house-husband George in action, never a domestic moment with that asshole.

“I am, see? I’m working up a sweat checking on my beloved” He bent down to kiss (Y/N)’s forehead lightly, leaving Harry looking a little flushed and awkwardly looking away. Though George couldn’t care less, full on showering his boyfriend with kisses.

“What, Potter? The gays scaring you?” George said looking up at the younger boy in the room who was looking at his own shoes to distract himself and not “ruin the moment”.

“N-No!” He shouted out, as he looked at the two lovebirds.

“Just teasing, Harry. Calm down” George laughed, putting his hands around (Y/N) then immediately off as his mother walked in.

“George!? Plates? Where are the extra chairs! Your father will be home any minute and you’re sitting here fooling around” She walked in, two chairs in her arms and a stray hand flicking a wand for the plates as they danced to their places.

“Sorry, mum!” Geogre shouted out, giving (Y/N) peck on the cheek and going to grab some more chairs.

“Sorry, Mrs. Weasley.” (Y/N) said looking down.

“Nonsense, dear. That boy has nothing on his mind, but you. Should’ve hid you in a cupboard so he can do work.” She said putting her hands on her hips before turning her heel the opposite direction Ron and trotted away.

(Y/N) laughed, he wishes he could do that sometimes too, his nerves calmed down as he quickly accustomed to the new environment. Passing Ginny gravy with one as he simultaneously held a lengthy conversation with Hermione and holding George’s hand with his other.

“No, (Y/N). You can’t just half-ass wish for this or that. Wishes are to be thought through carefully” Hermione groaned out as she forked her dinner aggressively, a furrow in her brow.

“And I’m just saying that if I had a genie, I wouldn’t think. You have a freaking genie-“ (Y/N) replied, they’ve been on about genies for the past half an hour.

He heard George yawn, suspicious, a hand over his mouth as he eyed both his, Fred’s and (Y/N)’s empty plates. He sighed and yawned too, Fred joining in eventually.

“We better head to sleep, don’t you think? I’m full as can be” Fred stretched his arms out and stood up from the table followed by Geogre.

“Right, Fred.” Who was followed by (Y/N).

“Right.”

All three mischievous boys quickly made way through a small window by the stairs, fireworks already resting under the twin’s arms, if only they’d put this much effort into anything else. Where did they even appear from?

“Come on, to the bog. Best place for fireworks” George grabbed onto (Y/N)’s hand, Fred trailing behind them.

Once the boys got to the small grass patch, Geogre pulled a blanket out. Did he even have that when they left? George and (Y/N) both sat down as they watched Fred set up the pyrotechnic show for them.

“Have fun, lovebirds. I’m going to go occupy our room. You owe me.” He flashed a wink over to George, throwing a lighter his direction.

“Firework show when you bring Angie here?”

“You bet.”

“He’s not staying?”

“Nope, darling. Just us and some very large muggle fireworks.”

He stood up and lit the pile, quickly running back to their blanket. (Y/N) squeezed himself between George’s legs letting him rest his head on (Y/N) neck as they watched the sky light up in different hues. It was beautiful, a perfect way to start an entire summer with his boyfriend.

“George Fabian Weasley!” They heard a shriek from the burrow, they both looked at each other and back at the burrow. Single thought, run.

“Full name.” They said in unison, quickly grabbing their blanket and running as fast they could in the dark towards the small window.

Both climbing into the window and then up the stairs, they made it by a second into the beds they had before Molly Weasley burst in, eyes squinted in suspense. She walked out eyeing the twins and when she was out of earshot, they both started panting and laughing.

“You two are gonna get yourselves killed one of these days and we can guess who’s doing it” Fred huffed out before laughing too, looking back at the comic he was reading as (Y/N) and George kissed.

“Sounds about right” George sighed as he rested his head on (Y/N) gently.

[itsivyberry]

after the war

Draco Malfoy x f!Hufflepuff!Reader

A blurb, continuing the Tri Wizard Champion series.

request: I'd really like to see another fanfic with Draco showing what happened to them after the triwizard tournament! That would be a great idea! [via @booksmione ]

a/n: HI! Here’s a request! I loved writing this, I usually am not a fan of after-war fics and prefer fics where the characters are still attending Hogwarts, but this makes my heart SOAR I love it. I hope you enjoyed, thank you for requesting this and keeping my favorite (and only) series alive <3

word count: 1160

warnings: mentions of blood loss, crucio, scars, death, war, etc. also fluff LMAOOO

summary: Y/N and Draco managed to find their way back to each other after three years of healing from the well-known Tri Wizard Tournament.

taglist: @drawlfoy @fanficflaneuse @babyhoneystvles @ccelinewritess @nekee-lilac02 @dracofeltonmalfoy

masterlist

read the series if you haven’t already!⬇️

{ 1 } { 2 } { 3 } { 3.5 } { 4 } { 5 } { 6 }

gif credit: @popartism

The war was a massive devastation for the Wizarding world.

Y/N was still grieving the loss of her best friend three years prior. Her school, her home had turned into a place she didn’t even recognize. A prison.

Just as quickly as Hogwarts had changed, she had watched family and friends die within its walls, protecting the students within.

Every single night in her dorm before the Battle of Hogwarts, Y/N would listen to the radio in search of any names listed off that she knew.

Although she claimed she was listening for loved ones, she was really listening for one particular name. Malfoy.

Y/N knew that there was no possible way the Malfoys would be put on the casualties list that grows every day, but she still listened with quiet breathing and a rapid heartbeat to hear the name of the boy she still loved.

From what she could remember, the battle was a blur. A blip in time. Faces that she knew, lifeless on the ground around her. Faces she has grown up with for almost the past decade.

Y/N couldn’t count how many people she loved and held dearly that she had seen dead. Fred Weasley, leaving his other half George. Nymphadora Tonks, a beloved Hufflepuff alumni, and Remus Lupin, Harry Potter’s last standing familial figure and spouse to Tonks. Lavender Brown, the Gryffindor that Y/N had grown quite close to while Hogwarts was under the direction of multiple death eaters. Colin Creevey, the young muggle-born Gryffindor who stood incredibly brave, and another close friend of Y/N’s.

~•.*✰

While attempting to save another young student, Y/N was hit with the Cruciatus Curse, and was severely attacked by multiple Death-Eaters. She could barely feel the pain, when her eyes focused on a head full of white hair that was speeding to wear she lay in a puddle of her own blood in the Forbidden Forest.

“How did you get out here? Why are you out here, Y/N?” Draco’s voice was deeper, aged, yet frantic and shaking. “Oh Merlin, you’re bleeding so much. We need to get you to the Great Hall.”

“Draco?” Y/N’s quiet voice asked. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was trembling, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She touched his face, leaving a bloody handprint behind. She tried to convince herself that he really was here, that he really was trying to get her help, and he wasn’t just a hallucination from the blood loss.

“Close your eyes.” Draco instructed.

A moment passed, and Y/N felt her stomach drop as if she were on a fast roller coaster.

“I need help! Help!” She soon heard Draco screaming, his voice cracking with every syllable. Bustling voices around her had forced her to open her eyes, and she soon realized he had apparated both of them into the Great Hall. Molly Weasley, a dear friend of Y/N’s mother, rushed over as two students behind her carried a cot.

They transferred her onto the cot, working as quickly as they could to heal the wounds without any more blood loss. Y/N was walking the thin line of unconsciousness, but refused to let herself pass out while Draco was still near her.

She knew he worried too much. The creases permanently etched into his forehead told her enough.

With the remaining strength Y/N had, she reached towards him to grab his hand. His eyes snapped down to her the second she made contact with his hand, and he clasped it in both and immediately started planting tear-filled kisses along every inch of her exposed skin.

“You’re gonna be alright. Everything is going to be fine. Please, stay awake. Stay awake for me, Y/N/N. Please.”

~•.*✰

“Wow, so Dad was a softie!” Y/N’s and Draco’s eldest daughter, Lyra, exclaimed.

“Yes, he really was.” Y/N smiled warmly, laying her hand atop Draco’s as they sat on the couch.

“So, that’s how you got that scar? It’s cool!” Scorpius piped in, pointing to Y/N’s stomach, where a prominent white scar lead up to her shoulder, meeting the three scars on her back from her fourth year.

“Mom, you have had some crazy accidents. How did Dad never have heart attacks?” Cassi asked, leaning forward in complete and utter amusement.

“Oh, I can promise you, Dad did have heart attacks. I enjoy keeping him on his toes.” Y/N winked, leaning back into Draco, who had an arm over her shoulder.

“Can you tell us about the tournament again, Mom? Please?” Scorpius begged, pouting.

“I think it’s about time for you three to go to bed, hm? Mom’s had enough revisiting her very, very dangerous experiences throughout her years at school. Let’s get you all to bed, shall we? Big day tomorrow.” Draco piped in, pushing himself off the couch and helping his children stand from the carpet.

“I’m nervous for tomorrow! First day of fourth year. I wonder if mine will be as adventurous as Moms.” Lyra said, walking slowly to her room.

“And first day of third for me. I hope I get to meet a Hippogriff like you did your third year, Dad.” Scorpius followed his sister through the hallway to their bedrooms.

“And first day of Hogwarts for our darling little Cassiopeia, isn’t that right?” Y/N appeared behind them, scooping her youngest up and planting kisses everywhere on her face. Cassi squealed, giggling loudly as Y/N continued walking to their separate rooms.

“Goodnight, my darling lovebugs.” Y/N said, blowing kisses through each of the open doorways to her children.

“Goodnight, my favorite troublemakers. Get some sleep, or I’ll have the boggarts come scare you!” Draco laughed mischievously, just before getting whacked lightly upside the head by his wife. She quietly scolded him, and he put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Goodnight! Love you the mostest.” Cassi peeped up, flicking her tiny wrist to turn off her lamp.

“Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad. Thank you for telling us the story again.” Scorpius yawned, turning on his side and doing just as his sister had done to turn off his lamp.

“Thank you, for reminding us again how cool our parents are. Love you guys.” Lyra said, snapping lightly to turn out her lamp. She always was a bit more advanced than her brother and sister.

Y/N quietly closed all three doors, before heading to her and Draco’s room to finally get some sleep. It wasn’t long before they were both dozing off, Y/N in Draco’s arms.

“Goodnight, my love.” Draco whispered, planting a kiss into Y/N’s hair.

“Goodnight, Dray. I love you.” She whispered back, her eyes closing and letting sleep finally take over.

Even though she struggled to get the happy ending she wanted after fourth year, she could now proudly say she was a part of a loving family with the boy she had loved since she was 14. She was has happy, healthy, and healed as she could be.

And that was her perfect happy ending.

~•.*✰

final a/n: as you can guess, Cassi is named after the constellation Cassiopeia and Lyra is also named after a constellation! I didn’t want Scorp to be an only child, so I gave him an older and a younger sister. I hope you all enjoyed, I really love this and now I’m mad at the lack of storyline after the war for Draco >:( anyways I just like smacked this out in 20 minutes because I’ve been in a Draco loving mood recently?????? Ok lol but I hope y’all enjoyed!!

[emotionallydrainedtrash]

Lullabies and Teddy Bears - Fred Weasley

Chapter One

Memories

3rd Person P.O.V

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday dear Rory! Happy Birthday to you!"

The 3-year-old girl giggled. Her cousins, 1-year-old Harry, and 3-year-old Daisy were giggling too as they hugged their cousin. Well, Daisy did. Harry tried.

Auntie Lily and Uncle James were smiling brightly at the trio. Rory's Uncle Moony grinned at his little "niece" and Uncle Padfoot was howling with laughter at the sight of little Ronnie smearing yellow frosting all over James' face.

Cordelia's parents had been killed when she was just one. Marlene and Luke McKinnon were celebrating their only child's 1st birthday with close family and friends when they were attacked by death eaters. Marlene handed her baby to Molly Weasley who then disapparated with her children and Rory. 

Cordelia's parents fought bravely, but Voldemort himself got the upper hand. Then on Rory's 2nd birthday, her beloved Grandfather Todd was murdered by a muggle gang while he was on his morning stroll through London.

Here's the thing. Those murders would stay in her mind and it gave her nightmares. But those nightmares would be nothing compared to the ones that came alive the night of her 3rd birthday. Cordelia was hoping for a perfect, no-death birthday, and it looked like the results would be promising. 

The 4 adults were all howling with laughter at the leftover batch of pink and yellow frosting being thrown across the room by the 3 children, when Remus and Sirius said their goodbyes and disapparated. James and Lily were wiping the last of the frosting from their baby's clothes when the front door was blown open.

They seemed to be paralyzed with fear as they realized who it was. Voldemort had come for the Potters and he had no intention of letting any survive. James yelled to Lily,

"Lily! Take the kids and go! I'll hold him off! I love you, sweetheart! Thank you for letting me into your life!"

Then he turned to the children. "I love you all so much! So very, very much! Don't you ever forget that!" Lily took the children in her arms and hurried upstairs, into Harry's bedroom. She set the children down and locked the door. She faced the children and said quickly,

"babies, we're going to play a game of hide and seek okay? Don't come out until we come to find you."

Daisy and Harry nodded, convinced, but although Rory nodded, the toddler knew something was off. You see Cordelia was very smart from a very young age and knew that this was no game of hide and seek. But she allowed herself to be put in the closet with Daisy, as she watched Auntie Lily place Harry in the crib and whisper sweet nothings to her baby son.

She turned to the closet and opened a door. She knelt down to the height of her niece and daughter. She cupped their small cheeks in her hands and whispered words that would stay with the both of them forever.

"My princesses, I love you so much. You and Harry are the most wonderful things to ever happen to me. I want you to remember this, stay strong, kind, build walls where you need to but don't use those to keep everything out."

She said to her daughter,

"take care of Harry for me lovely. Make sure he is safe. I'm so proud of you. I love you. I love you so much." "Mummy where are you going?!"

Daisy cried out. Lily placed a finger over her lips. She then turned to her niece. Marlene was one of her greatest friends and Cordelia was so much like her.

"Rory darling, take care of both of them for me. I have loved raising you as one of my own. Thank you for the joy you bring me. I love you!"

By now the tears were streaming down all three faces. With one last kiss on each of their heads and a hug, Lily Potter shut the closet door and savored the last moment she would have with her girls.

Suddenly the two toddlers heard voices downstairs. Rory pressed her ear against the heavy oak panel and heard James shouting at Voldemort. "I don't need a wand! I'll take you on with my bare hands! I'll punch you right in the bloody nos-wait, no, never mind."

The girl heard a curse being thrown across the stairs at James.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A heavy thump was heard and Cordelia's stomach grew tight. She whimpered as she heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Foolish boy," Voldemort muttered. Suddenly the door to the bedroom was blasted open. There stood the Dark Lord himself.

"Move aside girl!"

"No! Take me not my son!"

Lily cried. Harry was starting to cry, and that was too much for Daisy. Before her friend could stop her, Daisy was out of the closet and in the crib trying to comfort Harry. Not wanting to be left alone in a closet with an open door, Cordelia scurried out and joined the Potter children in the crib. Lily was really crying now.

"Don't hurt any of them, please! Take me not them!"

The Dark Lord had reached his limit. "Avada Kedavra!"

There was a blinding green light, a piercing scream, and Lily Potter fell to the floor, her life stolen. The Potter children started crying but Veronica held back her tears, a nasty habit she'd take with her as she grew.

Voldemort pointed his wand at the children. Rory and Daisy held on to each other and Harry, wanting to die with the ones they loved. The curse left Voldemort's lips and suddenly time seemed to slow down. Although the curse hit them, nothing happened.

Voldemort cried out in pain and vanished. Daisy and Rory climbed out of the crib, Daisy clutching her wrist, and Rory holding a small shaky hand over her neck. They crawled over to Lily and burst into even more tears. Daisy shook her mother.

"Mum please wake up! Don't go!"

Veronica shook her head.

"D it's not working. She's died."              

A strange man, with black hair up to his collarbone and an all-black outfit, walked into the room. As soon as he saw Lily Potter's body, he sunk down against the wall, as tears dripped down his hooked nose. He too crawled to Lily and cradled her lifeless body in his hands, rocking back and forth. A few hours later, just before the man left, Rory plucked up the courage and asked him

"Sir, who are you?"

"Severus Snape" was the low, hoarse reply.

The man disapparated, and almost immediately after, Remus appeared in the room, and a large man who looked like a giant walked in followed closely by Sirius. Remus picked up Cordelia and the giant man Hagrid picked up Harry out of the half broke crib and Daisy off of the wood-littered floor. Sirius let out a strangled cry.

"No, please! Let me take Harry and Daisy! Please, I'm their godfather!"

Hagrid shook his head, as a few tears rolled from his eyes into his thick, bushy beard.

"I'm sorry. I can't. I'm on orders from Dumbledore."

Sirius looked crestfallen.

"Take my motorbike then. I won't be needing it anymore."

Remus spoke up.

"Where are you taking them?"

"To their Aunt and Uncles 'ouse on Privet Drive."

Daisy shrieked through her tears.

"No! They're mean! They're always really mean to us! Oh, don't take us there!"

Hagrid looked very sorry as he shook his head, and headed out of the room. Now it was just Rory, Remus, and Sirius in the destroyed bedroom. "Well, we should go."

Remus said, with tears streaming down his face. 

He and Sirius walked down the stairs, with little Rory sobbing as she passed the dead body of her beloved Uncle James. Once they were back in the living room, and Remus had gathered up all of Cordelia's belongings, he bid Sirius goodbye with an air of betrayal and watched as Sirius disapparated.

As Remus walked out of the house, with Rory at his side, he heard a noise coming from around the side of the house. He set down the suitcase that held all of Rory's things, told her to wait there, and went to investigate. No sooner had he turned the corner, there was a shout and a loud thud. Remus had been knocked unconscious.

Cordelia stood there, frozen in fear. A brown fox, much larger than your average fox, came into view, next to the unconscious Remus. Before she could even scream out for help, the fox pounced on her. She felt strong jaws clamp onto her wrist, and sharp claws, digging into her neck.

All of a sudden, the fox was blasted off of her. Remus had gained consciousness and was absolutely fuming. The fox then tried to disapparate, but Remus splinched it as it left. He hurried over to Cordelia and conjured bandages to wrap around her neck and wrist.

As the small girl let her uncle tend to her wounds, she suddenly felt pain like no other and screamed. Remus looked panicked as the bandages he had just wrapped around Rory, tore and fell to the ground. She felt every bone in her body break and then felt new ones replace them. She felt like she was growing bigger, and furrier. 

With a final, ear-piercing scream, Cordelia dropped to the ground, whimpering in pain. When Remus saw what his darling Rory had become, he really couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his face.

She had become a Moonfox. A creature like a Werewolf, but not as dangerous, nor were the Moon Cycles at the same time. Remus would transform on a full moon, while Rory would transform on a crescent moon. Although distraught, Remus couldn't help noticing how lovely she was as a Moonfox.

As a Werewolf, Remus was a skinny, tall, bare skin, skeletal wolf. But Rory had a fluffy black coat, in the exact shade of her hair, bright blue eyes that still shone with sadness, a body larger than a regular fox yet smaller than your average dog. She had unusual markings around her eyes, and they looked like teardrops. Overall, she looked stunning.

Remus looked up at the sky and saw the crescent moon. He carefully approached Rory and quickly retracted as she lunged towards him, baring her teeth. As Rory was too weak to move forward any further, and could not reach Remus, she bit her paw and scratched her hind legs. Remus' heart ached. 

Cordelia was very weak and tired and Remus was able to cast a powerful sleeping charm on her. He picked her up, along with the suitcase, and apparated to his rundown cottage. He laid the sleeping fox on the bed upstairs then went to his own. As it sunk in that he'd been face to face with the Potter's traitor, their best friend, and done nothing, the pain was almost too much to bear.

 One of his best friends was a traitor, two of them were dead, and his niece was forced to suffer just as he does. Remus could do nothing but drift to sleep, his mind filled with sorrow, his heart filled with grief.

XX💛

[llendrinall]

Omg if an adult Draco woke up in 5 year old Draco's body and he wanted to make his father's life a living hell. Id read that, please please tell us the stuff he'd get up to. (as well as the stuff you would get up to at school, please)

It would be a nightmare for all involved. Draco, who had fought so much, suffered so much in order to atone not only for his mistakes but those of his family… and he finds himself back! All progress lost! He had broken his back, literally (it was a really dumb idea and Harry was very angry with him) to get Granger to warm up to him. Longbottom had forgiven him! (And Draco doesn’t even know what exactly he did to merit that). Harry had…

Harry had kissed him the weekend before.

And now he is back in his five-year-old body. Not even eleven, when he could see Harry and make a difference. No, he is five, and Draco cries and rages so much that he develops a fever and is incoherent for a week.

Afterwards… Well, you know how parents pride themselves in their children’s achievements? How parents want their children to be better than them? Lucius has found there is a limit to it. Having his son be more eloquent and advanced than any other child his age is great. Having his five-year-old son tell him with impeccable grammar that he, Lucius, will bring the ruin of their house is not great at all. Draco looks at him with a cherubic face and eyes that are burning grey, accusing him of crimes that even Narcissa doesn’t know about. Crimes that Lucius had barely begun to plan.

It is terrifying.

It is well known that what muggles call “demonic possessions” are nothing more than a wizard having a little too much fun with an imperius. But when Draco grabs Lucius’ wand, goes down to their hidden vault and, and, and opens it! He- he just casts the spell! Draco is five and he is doing magic that many adults struggle with! Oh, then Lucius wants to believe there might be something else.

(Out of all the forbidden things in their vault Draco went straight to the diary the Dark Lord had entrusted Lucius. Straight to it. And he destroyed it that very same night.)

“You failed.” Draco says, hot and angry. He is so pale and soft and full of fire. “You failed at everything and I had to take your place. I was given an impossible task as punishment to you, threatened not only with my death but the whole family, because of you!”

“Tenses, darling.” Says Narcissa softly. Narcissa is blind to the monster they have in the house. She doesn’t see it. She is convinced that there is nothing wrong with Draco, that he is just a very powerful seer who is a bit confused with timelines and verb tenses.

Draco is not a seer. Lucius is sure of that because if he were, then he would know that Lucius is thinking of… cleaning up the line. Narcissa is still young and she can give him another son or Lucius can remarry.

He is not a seer, but one day over breakfast Draco looks up and says “It won’t work. Whatever you are plotting, it won’t work. I can’t recall a single plan of yours that worked longer than a month. Kicking Dumbledore from Hogwarts, bribing the Ministry, bringing back the Dark Lord. It never works.”

So Lucius packs up his things and leaves the country quietly.

Narcissa is… shocked, which means she is furious, betrayed, and briefly terrified that she might lose her income and secure position. But once she is reassured that she still holds the house and the fortune she takes a big breath, internally swears that next time she comes across Lucius she will castrate hex him, and steps up into the role of Lady of the House.

She also listens to Draco. She insists that what Draco says has happened is yet to come, but she listens.

Draco wants to get Harry at once, but it is not so easy to find a seemingly normal muggle family in the sea of actually normal muggle families living an hour away from London. In the meantime, Narcissa visits Flourish and Blotts every day for a week until she finally gets there at the same time than the Weasleys. Then it’s a question of dropping a handkerchief and waiting for the bespectacled Weasley to fetch it for her and then, well, he is so eloquent and polite that Narcissa insists on buying young, Percival, was it? She shall buy him a quill. Any quill he wants. Don’t look at the price and just pick whatever quill you like best, young man. You must have a proper quill to write your letters.  

Molly Weasley would rather drag herself through shards of glass than accept a gift from a Malfoy; but one look at Percy tells her that if she takes this from him, if she takes his once chance of having something New and Fancy and Just For Him, he will hate her forever. So Molly relents (as Narcissa knew she would because mothers are predictable). Two weeks later Draco has a play date with Ronald.

“I think you should play Quidditch, Draco, dear.” She says, because horrendous as Lucius’ attitude was, she does recognize that Draco can be a bit off-putting. There isn’t that much talking with Quidditch and Draco is clever enough to let the young Weasley win two out of three times.

It takes thirteen months to find Harry and by then Narcissa has got a foot in both the Weasley’s and Longbottom’s houses. The latter was an excruciating effort and is still a very much work in progress. Narcissa had to let that bulldog of Augusta Lonbottom seer her crying and even now they are one wrong word away of losing all progress, but the children are talking and that was the goal.

She is weighting the pros of buying a house near the Dursleys and just moving there versus the advantage of frequently inviting the Weasley kids to the manor, when she sees the anxious look in her son’s face, a look of urgency and desperation and…

“Draco,” she cries, softly and sadly. Beautiful Draco, six years and two months and with a face like a silver coin. “Draco, dear, do you love this boy? I don’t mean like you love Mummy. Do you…”

“I know what you mean, Mother.” Draco says, serious, he is always so serious. She supposes he has to be to contain the fire burning inside. “I am not a child, I have told you. And I love him with all my heart.”

Oh.

“Then, you shouldn’t meet so soon.” Narcissa says firmly, although inside her heart is aching and she doesn’t know why. “Children who grow together tend to see each other as siblings. Why, your Great Aunt Marthia grew up with Gaius Mulciber, her fiancée, and their marriage was very difficult. I think he tried to poison her in order to marry his lover, or the other way around. I can’t remember. In any case, it is better to wait.”

But Draco doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to wait. He doesn’t want Harry to spend a single day more than necessary in that house where he was miserable and unloved. Whatever it takes, he says. Whatever it takes, even if the price is not loving Draco. Let’s rescue him now.

Narcissa explains that waiting would be much better. There are other things they have to keep in mind, like the return of the Dark Lord and the fact that Harry is linked to him. It can’t be that bad, the muggle house. Just bad enough that Harry will jump easily and eagerly to the wizarding world once it’s presented to him, so he will be all the more willing to sacrifice his…

“oh”, Narcissa says, very softly, not even an exclamation mark or a capital.

“oh”, she repeats.

Internally, she thinks “that bastard”. Dumbledore, of course. It is well known that Dumbledore wants Voldemort’s destruction at whatever cost.

“Draco you have to get yourself invited to the Longbottom’s house.” Narcissa says. Something in her tone finally cuts Draco’s unending cries that they have to get Harry, he will do it himself even if he is just one meter and ten centimeters tall.

Draco is a charming b-. Draco is charming, boy, child or adult trapped in a kid’s body. He gets an invitation and a layout of the Longbottom’s house. Narcissa then dons a pair of sensible country boots that she doesn’t mind getting dirty with mud and barely sleeps for the next ten days. Her skin suffers from it greatly, mind you.

By day three she has successfully stolen the rat Scabbers from the Burrow. She was going to switch it with a real pet rat, but it escapes and she can’t go chasing it. Then she begins a ten-days terror program on the Longbottoms. Footprints on the flowerbeds, upsetting the warding charms on the doors, definite signs of tampering in the chimney… Augusta Longbototm is many things, but she is certainly not a fool and by day four she is at the Ministry demanding help form the Auror office. It takes five freaking days for them to send a couple or aurors down. Narcissa is incensed on her behalf.

She waits until Dumbledore sends Moody down to the house. Moody casts extra protection charms and lays some traps and that night Narcissa pushes a stunned Pettigrew into what seems the nastiest of all of the traps. The one Dumbledore told Moody not to use but he still prepared the moment he left. In goes Pettigrew, stunned and wounded because Narcissa is under a lot of stress and she might have tortured him a bit.

Narcissa and Draco are there to greet Sirius, their BELOVED cousin (all capitals so no one dares says otherwise) when he is released from Azkaban. She has him shaved, washed and all set in a nice London house before Dumbledore can even begin to say “unfit for taking care of an underage boy”. At six years and four months Harry leaves the Dursleys and moves with his godfather.  

 And then it’s all nice for a while until Pettigrew escapes Azkaban, meets Lucius in the continent and together bring Voldemort back. There is a war. People grow more and more afraid of Draco and he has more attempts on his life than Harry ever had. Narcissa kills Bellatrix and doesn’t even think about it.

And, one day, a young handsome gentleman with shiny black hair arrives accompanied by a sullen lanky young man with streaks of pink in his hair. Draco labels the lanky young man as the ugliest adult he has even seen. The handsome young gentleman introduces himself as Harry Potter and asks if perhaps Draco remembers him?

The burning fire inside Draco disappears. There is only hot air and ash.

The ugly lanky young man is adult Draco, of course, governed by an eight-year-old who has completely destroyed his hair.  Harry, his Harry, is just amused at Draco’s indignation that they allowed this to happen. Apparently Child Draco was a handful to deal with.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you,” handsome gentleman Harry says, and he is so warm and beautiful that Draco wants to cry. He doesn’t even care about how ugly is adult body is because once he is back in it Harry grabs his hands and doesn’t let go until they are back home.

[thebadgerclan]

When The Snake Wed The Badger-Chapter 3

Pairing: Severus Snape x Hufflepuff reader

Chapter summary: Your best friend, Molly, takes you on a pre-wedding girl’s trip

A/N: 2 chapters in one day wooooo!  I’m taking requests for Newt Scamander now, so if you have any, send them my way!

The wedding was 3 days away, and Molly decided she was taking you away for a girls weekend.  The only slight downside was you wouldn’t see Severus until the wedding.  You were a little saddened by this.  “Y/N!  You have literally your entire life!  Spend some time with your bestest friend!”  Molly dramatically threw herself across your and Severus’ couch.  “She’s not wrong,” Severus called from the other room.  

“Well yeah,” you said.  “But won’t you miss me?”  Severus came into the room and pulled you into his arms.  “Don’t be ridiculous, badger.  Of course I’ll miss you.  But think of it this way, it’ll make the reunion all the more sweet.”  Molly mock gagged.  “Ok, don’t want to hear that, I still think of you as my teacher!”  “And yet here you sit, on my couch. Go pack, Y/N.”

Once you were upstairs, you threw some clothes in a bag.  You didn’t know where Molly was taking you, so you grabbed a little bit of everything.  Arms came to rest around your waist and you jumped a bit.  Severus pressed kisses to your neck.  “I’ll miss you so much, badger.  You know that.  But you know what’s gonna get me through the next 3 days?

“The thought of you walking down that aisle, in that gorgeous white dress, to me.  That, my dear,” he kissed you.  “Is what.”  You turned and hugged Severus.  “I’ll miss you so much.”  “Princess, don’t you cry for me.  It’s only 3 days.”  “Y/N!” Molly screamed from downstairs.  “You ready?”  “Yeah!”

Severus carried your bag downstairs and kissed you goodbye.  “Have a good time love, I love you.”  “Love you too Sev,” you said before taking Molly’s arm and Apparating away.  When your feet hit the ground, you were on a beach.  “Molly, where are we?”  “Bienvenida a españa!”  You laughed, “Molly, I thought you spoke French!”  “I do!  That’s the only thing I know!” 

So that’s how you spent the next 3 days, lounging in the Spanish sun, drinking sangrias, and having the time of your life.  It was the evening before your wedding when Molly said, “Ok Y/N, one more surprise.”  She Apparated you into a hotel room where your wedding gown, Molly’s dress, and a few gift boxes were waiting.  One was from Molly, the other from Severus.  

“Happy wedding Y/N!”  She handed you her gift.  Inside the box was a pair of earrings with teardrop gems in Hufflepuff gold.  “Molly, they’re beautiful, thank you so much!”  You hugged her close.  “What are maids of honor for?  Open Severus’!”  On his box was a note: “My beloved Y/N, Tomorrow, tomorrow you will be my bride.  My sweet girl, I cannot wait to see you tomorrow.  I know you’ll look so beautiful.  I miss you terribly my love, but we will be together again soon.  I hope you like your gift, badger.  It would mean the world to me if you wear it tomorrow.  Rest, my sweet.  I’ll see you in the morning.  I love you eternally my darling, sleep well.  -Your Severus” 

His box held a necklace.  The charm was a snake, wrapped around a badger, it’s tail forming a heart.  On the back, Forever your protector was engraved.  “It’s beautiful Y/N,” Molly said.  “It really is.  You set it on the table next to your veil and get into bed.  As you fall asleep, you imagine Severus’ arms around you, and pure joy fills you.     

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Emiel Regis X Reader | What Will Remain Of Us | Chapter 21-30

Originally posted on AO3. Keep an eye on the warnings, these apply from chapter 25 and up.

Word count: 1700+ Warnings: Death, angst, Frontotemporal Dementia

Chapter 21 - Orphanage

‘Missus Godefroy, please tell us about vampires again!’

Even though her shift was nearly over and the nightly caretaker was about to arrive, she smiled and sat down with the children, who quickly gathered around her.

‘You know that Mrs Wilson does not appreciate it when my stories give you nightmares.’

‘Please Mrs Godefroy! Little Elise is already in her room, hiding under her blankets because your beloved will pick you up soon!’

A hearty laugh escaped her lips as they curved upwards even further and she brushed her hand through the boy’s dark hair.

‘Perhaps another time. Perhaps Mr Regis himself could tell you one day about being a vampire.’

‘Mr Regis most certainly could.’ She was startled by a voice at the door, a silverfox vampire leaning against the frame, smiling slightly.

La Compassion made him think of the higher vampire Orianna, yet he wasn't sure if those memories were fond of not.

Mrs Wilson brushed past him and the children of the orphanage scurried off, but not before giving Regis’ lover a quick hug.

‘See you tomorrow Mrs Godefroy, thank you for being so nice to us!’

‘Not a problem, Simon. Be a good boy now, and maybe Mr Regis can come with me one day.’

‘Oh no, nothing of the sort.’ Mrs Wilson exclaimed, practically shooing her towards her husband.

‘Alright, Agnes. I will bring a Katakan instead. That could be safer after all.’

Chapter 22 - Flower Crowns

‘Mommy, look at this!!’

She looked at the little girl before crouching down next to her. Upon her blonde curls, a flower crown was placed, another clutched in her hands.

‘Daddy taught me how to do it! This one is for you.’

Her daughter reached up and placed the wreath of daisies upon her mother’s head.

(Y/n) moved to pick up the six-year-old and arose from her low position, smiling as she saw Regis in the doorway, a fond look on his face, a slight hue of pink on his cheeks. In his silver hair, also a flower crown.

‘You look lovely.’ Emiel said, approaching his wife, kissing her on the cheek and ruffling their daughter’s hair.

‘Little Molly is a quick learner. Soon she will steal all my herbs to make them into a braid.’

‘Would you mind?’ She asked him, smiling at her daughters enthusiastic expression.

‘Quite so.’

Chapter 23 - Sick

He held back her hair from her face as she sat hunched over, belching out whatever was left inside her stomach. The stench that came from the growing puddle underneath her was pungent and far from pleasant.

'I am sorry, Regis.' she muttered, bags under her eyes and small pieces of puke stuck to the corners of her lips. She tried to rub some of it away, only causing it to stick to the back of her hand. He gave her a small smile, rubbing her back reassuringly.

'That's alright. You're just sick. Just get it all out of there.'

He didn't need to tell her twice. She returned to vomiting all over the grass like there was no tomorrow.

Chapter 24 - Energetic

Little Molly was quicker than her mother, and she knew it.

So when Regis returned home one day, a bottle of wine and a fresh bread in hand, he was far from surprised to find his love out of breath, a jumpy, jolly child still running around.

'Won't that child ever grow tired?' she wondered, causing the Higher Vampire to chuckle. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile as he observed the blonde curls dancing around the room.

'Only to think about the idea that one time we were as young and energetic as her.' 'I can't remember that at all.'

'Me neither, dear. But tonight, she will be exhausted. I have brought some wine, so we have all the evening to ourselves.'

His lips brushed against the nape of her neck, making her blush. In front of them, a blonde head appeared, a small finger reaching out to them.

'Tag, you're it.'

Chapter 25 - Overcooked

Regis returned home from the market to a pungent, awful scent.

With a hand in front of his mouth and nose, he entered the cozy homestead quickly.

He found the love of his life in the kitchen behind a boiling pot of whatever was in there. The food had long overcooked and hot water was flowing onto the floor freely, staining the wood a few shades darker.

The thing that confused him even more was that she didn't seem to mind at all. Instead, she was zoned out, staring out of the window.

'Darling?'

He reached out, turning off the heat. The boiling in the pot died down, revealing burned potatoes.

'Darling?' he touched her arm, startling her.

'Oh, Regis, you scared me.'

'Are you alright?'

She nodded, turning to the cooking again. 'Yes, yes I am fine.'

'Are you sure? You were completely zoned out there for a moment. The potatoes are over-boiled.'

'Oh... I am sorry, dear. I must've forgotten that those were on the stove.'

Regis rubbed his chin, observing her, narrowing his eyes. He hummed, letting it slip for now.

'If you say so.'

'Don't worry about it.'

Chapter 26 - Birthday

On her tippy-toes, little Molly moved closer to the bedroom, Regis in tow with a tray in his hands.

It was early, the scent of omelettes and freshly brewed tea filling the room. Carefully, Molly pushed open the door, the hinges slightly creaking.

'...Happy birthday to you!'

Regis and Molly sang loudly enough to startle awake the woman that was still laying underneath the covers.

'Happy birthday mommy!' the blonde girl ran up to her mother, jumped onto the bed and hugged her.

'It's... It's my birthday today? I thought my birthday was next week!'

Molly laughed as her mother startled tickling her.

'You and daddy set up breakfast in bed for me? How sweet of you!'

Regis smiled fondly at the scene, placing the tray carefully on the duvet.

'Of course.' he spoke, leaning in to press a chaste kiss onto her lips, earning an 'Ewww!' from little Molly.

The couple laughed, Regis' hand momentarily curling around the small of the birthday woman's waist in a protective manner.

'We have way more surprises up our sleeves. All that we can tell you is that you need to put on a cute dress with some swimming wear underneath.'

She sighed happily as she took a sip of her tea. 'That sounds too lovely, my darlings!'

Chapter 27 - Molly

Something in Regis stirred in concern at the sight of Molly's rather disheveled curls. What caused him more unease however was the fact that she was still in her pajamas.

His love was ready to head for the market, a warm cloak already wrapped around her form to shield her from the icy fingers of winter's merciless grip. 'Come on, Molly, we are going out.'

'But mom, I am not ready yet!'

'Don't be silly, come on, we don't want to miss out on the warm cinnamon rolls Pierre has been baking, do we?'

The pit of Regis' stomach churned in an unpleasant way.

'Darling.' he whispered. 'she is still in her pajamas.'

Her eyes widened in genuine surprise as she observed Molly a bit better - the little girl was on the verge of crying. 'Oh...' she muttered, 'but we can fix that quickly, can't we?'

Regis just looked on as she ushered their daughter towards her room to dress her, a heavy stone on his chest as he tried to suppress tears.

Chapter 28 - The Beginning Of The End

'Isn't there anything you can do, then?'

'No.' a certain raven-haired sorceress spoke with sadness in her voice. Violet eyes flickered to her form a few meters away, busy with skimming through a book, before lowering to the floor.

'I am so sorry, Regis. But there are things even black magic can not undo.'

'What do you suggest I should do, then?'

Yennefer sighed deeply, lips slighty parted.

'I am afraid you should begin the process of letting her go.'

Regis looked up at the sound of his lover approaching them.

'Did you find the book you was looking for?' she asked with a smile.

'I did.' Regis whispered, tucking said book into his bag. 'Let's go home.' he muttered, taking her hand into his.

He brought it up to his lips and kissed it lightly, making sure she couldn't see the sadness in his eyes.

Chapter 29 - Orphanage, part II

The remark had pierced her like a sword.

'You cannot come back anymore.'

This couldn't be. The orphanage was her everything.

'Why?' she said with dismay laced through her voice. Her legs felt heavy and she nearly fell over.

'The children are not safe around you anymore.'

'What makes you even think- That's not true! I am doing fine around here!'

Tears poured down like rain in an autumn storm.

'Come.' Regis whispered to his wife, kissing her temple. 'We should go home.'

Chapter 30 - Tomorrow Never Comes

Her husband sat, shivering with grief that had already seeped in his veins.

'I am not dead yet.' she muttered, smiling a bit. Every word took great force.

Molly was holding onto her like there was no tomorrow. But that was true. There was indeed no tomorrow.

'Take care of Molly for me, yeah?' she whispered to her husband.

Regis was silent, just pressing his lips to hers. Salt mixed into the kiss, alongside raw emotion.

'I love you.' he said, 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.' He shut his eyes and just focused on the sound of her voice saying those words.

Their eyes briefly met as soon as he opened them again, her hands waved into Molly's curls.

He wasn't ready.

'I love you.' she whispered. 'My Regis... My lovely Regis.'

He gritted his teeth as her eyes fell shut, fighting the urge to shake her awake. No, she couldn't slip away. Not now, not yet.

With a gasp, she opened her eyes again, reaching out to touch his face.

'Oh, my love. What I wouldn't give for another decade with you and our little girl. Don't forget about me.'

Regis' bottom lip trembled as he cupped her face into his hands, her eyes closing again.

'I won't. I love you.' he said once more.

...

...

...

With one final breath, she slipped into a peaceful slumber.

He was afraid that she had already forgotten his name.

But then he recalled his promise he made many years ago.

'I will never be able to forget you, my dearest. I will hear your name in the wind and see your face in the stars until the end of time, and beyond that.'

[bakerstreethound]

Something like This

Could you do a Mycroft x Reader Valentines Day oneshot??

Pairing: Mycroft x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: it's Valentine's Day & Mycroft doesn't know what to do so he calls reinforcements

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound

Requested by anonymous

Ah Valentines Day, a day Mycroft deemed useless and insignificant. He didn’t understand it, nor did he care, for who wants to celebrate a day of love? Well his feelings changed after a year with you and he wanted to surprise you with something special. There was a problem...the British Government hadn’t the slightest idea how to accomplish such a monstrous feat. After two frustrating hours, he still conjured up nothing. Groaning in frustration, he picked up his cell, calling the only person who knew you better than he: Molly Hooper.

“Ms. Hooper, I’m in dire need of assistance,” he spoke calmly, hiding the terror looming in his stomach.

“Mycroft? What a surprise,” she seemed to smile over the phone. “It’s Valentine’s Day, right? And you need my advice on what to get your sweetheart.”

“You know how I detest these things,” he mumbled in spite of himself. “I don’t know what she wants and there’s approximately three and a half hours until dinner. Most places I know are booked on the list!”

Silence fell over the phone.

Molly broke the silence. “Mycroft, there’s nothing she enjoys after a long day at work than watching movies and cuddling with blankets. If you do those things, maybe adding a touch of your own, then I believe she’ll love it.”

“But,” he protested.

“No buts, Mycroft. Trust me on this. It’s not about the gifts with her; it’s the moments you spend and cherish with her.”

Mycroft agreed, thanking Molly and prepared for his beloved’s return.

~*~*~*

 “Mycroft, love, I’m home!” I exclaimed, walking in through the giant foyer, the expansive staircase looming in the shadows.

Nothing answered, so I made my way into the kitchen, the corridors sill dark, until I beheld a faint glimmer of candlelight. As I turned into the kitchen, rose petals littered the floor lining their way to a table set with popcorn and all kinds of my favorite movie night food.

This, this is all so much!

My heart fluttered in adoration. He remembered, my darling husband knew all I wanted was to spend an evening with him.

“Happy Valentines Day, my dear,” a soft voice wafted through the room, teasing me from my thoughts. “I-i hope you like it,” soft arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me close.

“Mycroft, it’s perfect, love.”

I could feel his small smile across his face as he laid his chin on top of my head, embracing a rare moment of intimacy.

“Well, are we going to stay like this for the rest of the night, or would you rather have a movie marathon?”

“What are you waiting for then, let’s eat popcorn!” I exclaimed, dragging him to the couch.

 And so it went, Mycroft was glad he had called Molly and thanked her profusely months after.

@bakerstreethound @disneymarina @sherlocks-mind @the-cumberbatchs-stupid-penwing @cumberbatch-biscuits @destiel1597 @birdiecurry @buckyssoul @cumbergirll @superfandomfeels @kittronix

[caduceus-tealeaf-derolo]

Comfortable Confessions

This was a request from the lovely (and ever so patient) @mamzellecombeferre who requested an Ace!Fjord drabble, with Fjorster content; This was a lovely challenge, and I loved writing it! (I am also very open to constructive criticism, especially in the realm of Ace representation, as I am not Ace myself, and wish to do the community justice.)

 Without further ado -  The incessant ticking of the clock was getting on her nerves as the afternoon droned on. Jester was never good with monotony, and even less so when she had something to look forward to. The lack of distractions in the meantime gnawed at her subconscious as she sketched idly in her book, not really seeing what she drew. The room was too warm, the ticking seeming to make the time pass even more slowly; with a huff, she threw her possessions into her bag, and marched outside. 

The winds tugged playfully at her clothing as she walked through the campus, the winter storm clouds swirling overhead and creating interesting pieces of art in her mind’s eye. The community college wasn’t terribly large, but it’s architecture was pleasing, the people who populated the grounds fairly nice, and the professors well appointed. Walking briskly through the small gardens between each proper building, Jester made her way to the theater where her “Darling Suitor” as her mama called him, would be busy rehearsing. The cramped lobby had the feeling of a lush boudoir, which was offset by a beaten couch and coffee table, an even more cramped ticket booth, and a small set of stairs on the right and left that led to the stage beyond. Plopping down on the couch, her skirts spreading out in an artful arch as her mother had taught her, Jester re-assembled her pastels and her sketchbook, turning to a fresh page. From the drawn curtains across the room her ears picked up a lilting voice profess their love for the keeper of their heart before humming a few notes, and seeming to continue on with their work. Letting out a happy sigh, she snuggled further into the couch, and pulled a small throw blanket from her bottomless bag. The soft surroundings soothed her frazzled nerves, and eventually she dozed off in safety and contentment. Minutes or hours later, as time passes differently in theaters with them being realms between, Jester was lightly jostled by firm and familiar arms. “Hey Jessie, I’m just carryin’ you to the car. No worries.” eyes shut tight, trusting the care of her boyfriend, Jester dozed off once more to the rhythmic sway of his step as he held her. Vehicle already started and warm, he clicked her into the buckle, and made sure her tail was inside the vehicle before closing the door. Jester dozed, neither awake nor asleep, but floating in the in-between. Soft warmth surrounded her, a larger, somewhat rough hand sneaking beneath the blanket to hold her own on the drive. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that he smiled at her whenever there was a stop. “I’ll be right back, grabbing us food.” she managed to grumble out what seemed like an appropriate response, and felt his smile as he kissed her drowsy cheek. The winter wind that swirled through the warm vehicle as he left made her snuggle deeper into the reclined seat, wiggling toasty toes that sat right against the heat that was blowing on them. A frumpkin-length nap later, the door opened once more, and this time a barrage of enticing scents swirled around her. Paper bag in hand, Fjord leaned into the back seat and secured what she figured to be a take away dinner, before pulling out and driving them to their small shared apartment. Upstairs, and just enough space for the two of them and a friend if one needed a place to crash, Fjord carried first her, then their dinner and her bag up the staircase, proving once again that she was not the only strong one in the relationship. Comfortable and finally ready to exist as a person again, Fjord found her happily setting out two large bowls and two sets of ornately painted sticks at their side. Placing the large bag of food on the coffee table that also served as their dining room and studying surface, Jester dutifully scooped noodles and toppings into the bowls before pouring the piping hot and fragrant broth over them. “Thank you Jess,” the half orc smiled, tusks nearly fully grown in, “you’re wonderful.” Jester cocked a hip along with an eyebrow. “I’m wonderful? Silly, you just let me exist as a burrito for nearly an entire evening. I feel practically pampered. Here, eat while it’s still hot.” Shoving a pair of chopsticks into his hand with a small kiss to the cheek, she sat down across from him, each enjoying the other’s company. Walking through the day each of them had experienced, it was decided that while nothing in particular was bad, that they both were wearing a bit thin, and needed an evening to, as Fjord put it, ‘Get in touch with ourselves and each other.’ And so, began the great pampering. After consulting briefly with both Molly and Caduceus about what they each recommended, the pair went about their night. Sappy movies were promptly put on the laptop while they both snuggled in jammies, wearing some sort of face mask that ‘Duces said would help them both sleep better. Jester and Fjord watched Oskar and his beloved make eyes at each other, eventually culminating in a rather messy tangle of sweaty bodies, which Jester scrunched her nose at. The screen faded to black, far too late in the tiefling’s opinion, and Fjord began combing his fingers through her deep azure hair. “Jess, you’re sure you’re okay with us not.. Doing those things? You used to be pretty interested in it.” the deep twang prolonged his words, their formation so specifically him that she smiled. “No, my darling gentleman suitor, I am very very okay with not doing… Those things.” worrying her lower lip with her teeth, she rolled the topic around in her mind a moment before continuing. “Even if I were interested in doing that, having sex and things like it, I know you are not and would not ask you for it.” the appreciation in his eyes encouraged her to go on. “And also, I have found a freedom in not having sex be a thing that is expected of me. For my mother, it is her business, her trade, and she is rightfully proud of it.  Though, as much as I know about it, especially through her, I am not sure if I could separate the act from the mindset of ‘work’ at this point. It would be like if I sold my art, instead of giving it away. It would sap out all of the joy in creating.” Her partner nodded, moving fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp in small circles that felt particularly good around the base of her horns. “Boy am I lucky to have landed you, little missy.” “Ditto, dear suitor, now, let’s watch another one - apparently this movie is about a magical school.” The two holding each other, small kisses and snuggles exchanged throughout the rest of the evening, they each found comfort in the arms of the other, and eventually fell asleep.

[geekmama]

Dream Baby Ch. 2: Wide Awake

In which Molly contemplates a whole new world (and champagne brunch at The Landmark). 

This is for Ellis_Hendricks in congratulations on finishing her superb series, In Loco Parentis, and because she was concerned that Molly never got that takeaway Sherlock promised in the first chapter.

The hours… the dark night…the sound of rain…

I dreamt of you…

Molly stirred, encountered something solid, and gave an involuntary groan even as the solid something shifted to give her room…

Sherlock!

Memory came rushing back at lightspeed… those first kisses in that dark sheltered alcove… the laughter, the light in his eyes as they’d stripped off half their wet clothes in the middle of the living room… his hand on her wrist, pulling her after him, down the short hall to his bedroom, as though he couldn’t wait a moment longer…

Then… quite literally hours. Sometimes every nerve atuned to this new reality, and sometimes half dozing, the moments stretching out as in a dream…

Dreaming, in the dark, velvet night…

…to the sound of rain…

Other sounds, too. Helpless, joyous cries. And words, so many words… desperate babbling… languorous whispers. Words she had never thought to hear – or speak - in such a context…

Beyond all her seemingly foolish, unquenchable hope.

She would remember it all to her dying breath, she thought as she turned onto her back and her eyes opened to meet his…

...more green than blue in this shaded morning light…

…wonder and joy -- and a dash of relief -- in that beloved, crooked smile…

Later she would recall this moment, too, and find it strange that she had felt no fear that the coming of a new day might have changed things, brought him to his senses, or that he might be put off by what she was all-too-aware was her thoroughly shagged-out appearance.

But that was later. In that first, beautiful instant of awareness, she could only return his smile and murmur, “Good morning!”

“Molly,” he said, slow and deep, savoring the word as though it were something new, and perhaps a little surprising. Sending a small shiver through her… a frisson of desire.

Good Heavens. He would surely be the death of her.

But she replied with a whispered demand: “Kiss me.” And to her unutterable joy, he did, with careful sensuality… and then less careful. Her hands slid up and she put her arms about his strong shoulders, just as she’d always wanted to do… the feel of him… so real, so alive! And the taste of him… and then he made a small sound against her mouth as his hips pressed against her, moved against her, his burgeoning arousal plain…

He tore his lips away with a soft gasp, closing his eyes and setting his forehead against hers briefly before raising his face and opening them again to look down at her, troubled. “I… Molly, I want you. Again! Is that…” His voice trailed off, his question unvoiced.

“Sherlock, it’s fine,” she said, softly. She brushed some of the dark curls back from his forehead, and caressed his cheek. “You… you told me last night it had been years—“

“And never like this.” His expression lightened. “You don’t think it’s… strange, then? Abnormal.” He moved his hips again, and a suggestive smile tugged at his lips.

She couldn’t help chuckling, and pulled him down for another kiss. However, before he could construe this as full speed ahead, she said, “But Sherlock…”

He stilled and drew back again. “Yes?”

She felt herself blushing, but had to say it. “I’m a little… sore. I do want to… again… but—“

“I see. I can be gentle, though,” he said, coaxing – but with a hint of mischief, too.

*

Considerably later, Molly lay staring at the ceiling, her body still flushed and quivering, Sherlock’s expensive Egyptian cotton sheets thoroughly rumpled beneath her – beneath them, for he was lying on his back, recovering right next to her – and her hair, which was no doubt the very definition of bed-head, strewn lavishly across his goose down pillows.

“Do you think Hudders will have heard that?” he asked, still somewhat breathless, but laughter in his voice in spite of it.

Molly gave an amused snort. “I daresay. I don’t believe I will think of the word gentle in quite the same way ever again.”  She turned her head on the pillow to look over at him. “I assume you were telling me the truth when you said it had been years, but in that case… how on earth…?”

He rolled to face her, obviously pleased with himself. “Research, to some extent – John’s laptop, and those romance novels you leave about your flat have always been convenient resources. But you are far too easy to deduce, dear heart. My darling Molly.” He had moved to embrace her again as he uttered these endearments in that voice, and even now, after… after everything that had gone before…  she felt a noticeable ache of desire.

But then, having trapped her there, he looked down at her quite seriously and said, “Marry me.”

She could not help but stiffen. “Wh-what? Sherlock!”

He gave a sort of frown, though his eyes were still smiling. “Molly, I know you’ve been off the pill since you broke off your engagement to Tom—“

“I… you… my age—“

“Yes, you have reached the age when other forms of birth control are preferable – but you didn’t think you’d need any of them, either. And here we are: quite possibly pregnant, since, if I remember correctly, this would be about day fifteen of your cycle—“

“How do you know that?” she exclaimed, outraged and blushing furiously.

“Please,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “your mood swings alone—“

“My wh—“

He kissed her, which very possibly preserved his life. She squirmed beneath him, attempting to preserve her wrath, but he was so very persistent… and it was so very… enjoyable.

 When she was (admittedly) thoroughly subdued, he pulled away very slightly and said, “Molly… my love… my darling pathologist, and lover… and friend… don’t you want to? Haven’t we wasted enough time?”

“That wasn’t my fault,” she said, pointedly.

He sighed. “I know that. And just think: you will be in a position to hold it over me for the rest of our lives if only you will say yes.”

A swarm of objections rose in her brain, only to be dismissed as very minor in the scheme of things. And, in a Sherlockian sense, this proposal was eminently logical. “Very well,” she said. And then her pique at his abrupt methods faded quite away and she added worriedly, “But are you sure?”

He opened his mouth, and she knew he was about to dismiss her concern with his typical insouciance. But then his expression changed to something far more serious and tender. “Yes, I’m sure,” he said simply. After another kiss, he added, “Thank you for waiting for me.”

There was a brief silence as they considered one another, contemplating this momentous, life-changing decision…

And then her stomach growled.

Her hope that he hadn’t heard it was dashed immediately.

“Hungry?” He chuckled, eyes alight – an expression she ordinarily adored.

But she resisted its infectious quality and summoned a scowl. “You did promise me takeaway last night. I haven’t eaten since this time yesterday.”

“You had a packet of crisps. I saw it in the bin.”

“A packet of crisps in twenty-four hours! Are you trying to starve me?”

“But wasn’t it worth it?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. And couldn’t help herself. “Oh my God, yes it was,” she exclaimed, and kissed him again, and wrapped herself about him in a fierce hug. He laughed beneath the kiss, and then she was laughing, too, and, a minute or two later, they were still laughing as they faced each other on the pillows.

He said, “Let’s shower and go out to brunch. The manager at the Landmark owes me a favor, I’ll text him. And then we can go and shop for your engagement ring.”

Her heart swelled with joy – but then plummeted slightly. “I’ll have to go home first, I have to get some suitable clothing. And feed Toby.”

“Oh, Toby,” he groused with an eye-roll, but there was no real heat in it. “Yes, very well. But come shower with me, first.”

*

Their sudden, all-consuming sexual liaison had thrown them into the deep end and no mistake. It was one thing to lose oneself in such ecstasy, and quite another to experience the more mundane domestic intimacies for the first time as a committed couple. Sherlock seemed boyishly unsure of himself, and she felt a bit awkward, too, in spite of the fact that not so many months had passed since she had helped him through his latest (and, as he had stated quite adamantly at the time, last) recovery from drug abuse. That had been different. She had served in the capacity of medical professional, as well as caretaker and friend.

Now, they were lovers.

And engaged to be married.

As he moved the soapy cloth over her breasts and down over her tummy (an utterly fatuous smile curving his lips, if only he’d known it), she could not help wondering if she was, indeed, pregnant. It was certainly possible. And at that thought… the awareness that their affection, and their shining new commitment might bring a new life into the world – a superb and possibly startling combination of Holmes and Hooper genes -- such a wave of tenderness swept through her that tears stung, then filled her eyes.

Sherlock saw her lip tremble and his smile vanished. “What is it?”

“Nothing! I… what if I am pregnant?” She swiped the heel of her hand against the tears trickling down her cheek. “I might be, you know. You were right.”

His smile was back. And growing. “We’ll manage,” he said, and dropping the soapy cloth, he drew her close and held her for a long time, his cheek against her wet hair as the warm water poured over them.

*

Toby was extremely vocal in expressing his opinion of her prolonged absence.

Molly laughed, and Sherlock, suppressing a grin, said, “Go change your clothes, I’ll feed him. I know where everything is.”

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” Molly assured him, trotting up the stairs as Sherlock bent and scooped up the cat to carry him into the kitchen.

When she came down again – in a few minutes, just as promised -- she found her lover leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as her cat consumed what looked to be a whole tin of the posh wet food, the kibble dish sitting close by and already refilled.

“I’ve given him fresh water, too,” Sherlock told her, looking up. And then his brows rose. “Where did you get that dress?”

“I’ve had it a while,” she replied, smiling at the light in his eyes, vastly pleased that he seemed to approve. “It’s an Alexander McQueen. I was lucky enough to find it in a second-hand shop – too rich for my blood, otherwise. I… I thought you might like it.” The mini-dress was fitted and short-sleeved, with a flared skirt, and made of a smooth white material with an elaborate pattern of black scrollwork over all. She had felt, when she bought it (and not precisely dirt-cheap, either, in spite of the locale), that it would be perfect to wear if Sherlock ever asked her out – yes, even after all these years she had still lived in hope – since it would provide a pleasing contrast to the elegant simplicity of his dark, bespoke suits.

“I do like it,” he said, and set his hands at her waist, bent (only slightly, since she was wearing heels), and kissed her. “You look beautiful.”

“Then there’s a pair of us,” she said lightly, even as she blushed, her heart thumping.

He took her hand. “Come on, let’s go eat so we can get back to more important things.” And he actually waggled his brows at her.

*

They were in the cab, halfway to the Landmark (where seating at a secluded table and iced champagne awaited them), when the faint sound of a particular text alert issued from the pocket of Sherlock’s coat.

They turned to each other in sudden dismay, and Sherlock blurted, “Lestrade! I forgot all about that.”

“The Steed murder.” Molly winced. “Maybe we should do dinner, instead?”

But a stubborn look swept over Sherlock’s face. “No. We’ll go now, it won’t take long.” And, after checking his mobile for the address, he leaned forward to give the cabbie their new direction.

*

Greg’s face was the very picture of astonishment when they showed up, dressed to the nines and exchanging a loving glance as Sherlock handed Molly from the cab.

“What the… are you two off to a wedding or something?” Greg demanded.

“No, not at all,” Sherlock said, rather haughtily as he straightened and smoothed his coat. But then he added, “Not yet, at least,” and his lip twitched against a smile.

Molly blushed only a very little (she trusted) as she said, “Hello, Greg,” just as she had the previous night... in another world.

Greg’s eyes flew back and forth between them, a grin forming. “Bloody hell!” He said to Sherlock. “You finally got off your arse!”

Sherlock glared at him, but otherwise ignored this remark. “You won’t mind Molly attending, will you? Her input might be valuable, and speed things along. The management of the Landmark is holding a table for us, and Molly is very hungry.”

“That right?” Greg grinned. “No takeaway last night? Or tea this morning? Does Mrs. Hudson know what’s been going on under her roof?”

Sherlock sniffed. “I doubt she cares what goes on as long as the place isn’t blown up again.”

Molly wrinkled her nose, feeling guilty. “We snuck past her door on the way out, but I believe she… um… suspects.” 

Sherlock looked a bit conflicted at what was, essentially, Molly’s blatant admission of what precisely had been going on between them for the last fourteen hours, but finally gave it up and said to Greg, “We haven’t told anyone, yet, really. It seems you’re the first to know.”

Greg’s grin softened to something less teasing and much fonder. “Congratulations, you two. Lord, wait’ll John hears.”

“Not to mention our parents,” Sherlock groaned. “But John’s still in Tahiti, with that Gooseberry woman and her progeny.”

“Rushbury!” Molly corrected. “And her little girls are the sweetest things! I met them and their mother when I was picking up Rosie from nursery one day.”

But Sherlock was now looking thoughtful. “There’s a ten hour time difference between London and Tahiti.”

“So… two in the morning?” Greg mused. The grin appeared again.

Answered by Sherlock’s.

“Sherlock, no!” Molly protested, but with as much laughter as disapprobation.

And, with that unholy Sherlockian gleam in his eye, Molly’s beloved reached for his phone.

 ~.~

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

'The Ghost of Black Rose Hall' Chapter 10: I don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you

Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

.

.

“Excellent work, Miss Hooper.”

                She smiled brightly. “Thank you, Doctor Stamford. Have a good night.”

                Though months had passed since that fateful night in the moors, Molly still couldn’t quite believe this was her life. Finally, she thought. London was a bustling city, full of people and carriages running to and fro. She performed autopsies at Bart’s Hospital under the watchful eye of Stamford, thanks to Sherlock and Doctor Watson giving a glowing recommendation for her.

                Despite her decent reputation, scandal still followed. Many in London were curious about the woman who had taken up with the famous detective at 221B. Even the papers had caught wind of it eventually…

.

.

                “Famed detective, Sherlock Holmes, returns to London with a mystery woman,” he read aloud to her and the Watsons. He scanned the article, tossing the paper into the fire when he came across their questioning of Molly’s morals, and not questioning his own.

                Molly gave him a knowing look. “Do not worry yourself for my sake,” she told him. “I am well off financially with my newly found inheritance, I have lovely friends, and I have you; I’ve no complaints. Let them write what they want.”

                He smiled, admiring her courage. After all, she could have stayed with John and Mary, scandal avoided.

                “An excellent attitude to have,” Mary encouraged her.

                John nodded in agreement, then turned to Sherlock. “And if you’re truly bothered by it, my dear friend, I have just finished writing your latest adventure—The Ghost of Black Rose Hall. That should set the record straight.”

                “The world doesn’t need to know of her sorrows,” Sherlock argued.

                Molly placed her hand upon his arm, squeezing it with affection. “It’s okay, my love. I’ve already given Doctor Watson my approval.”

                He looked at her then, the once mysterious woman who captured his heart, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “As you wish.”

.

.

                Sherlock heard the arrival of a carriage, setting down his violin to look out the window. Molly was home. He smiled softly, his heart thrumming loudly in his chest. Upon hearing her footfalls on the stairs, he opened the door just as she made it to the landing. “Hello, my darling,” he greeted her before kissing her cheek.

                Her smile brightened his evening. Molly reached up, caressing his face. “How was your day? Find a new case?”

                Instead of retiring altogether, Sherlock had decided to take on one or two cases every now and then. It was clear to him, after his time in the moors, that he just couldn’t resist a good mystery. “Oh yes! A locked room murder!” he exclaimed cheerfully.

                She giggled. “Don’t sound too eager; you might wind up on the suspect list.” A heavenly smell caught her attention, causing her stomach to growl. “Did you make dinner?”

                “I did,” he replied proudly. He then added, “Well, Mrs. Hudson assisted me, but I did most of the cooking.”

                Her brows furrowed slightly. “Oh? And what’s the occasion?”

                He kissed her softly, their noses brushing, taking a moment to savor the taste. “Mmm, I thought we should celebrate ourselves.”

                Molly’s heart felt fit to burst as she watched him take her hand, kneeling before her. Tears sprung in her eyes. “Sherlock…”   

                 “Molly,” he began, “my beloved, I hope you realise just how much I love you. Though we met in a most horrifying circumstance, we found our own slice of happiness together in spite of it all. You’ve spent so much time in the darkness. I’d like to be the one to give you light and love, to guide you home, for the rest of your life. I want the warmth of your companionship, and your love, for the rest of mine. I understand if you’re hesitant, but would you do me the honor of becoming Molly Holmes?”

                She knelt down to meet his eyes. Her eyes sparkled with visions of their future. Breathlessly, she said, “Yes.”  

And though they knew the age old promise well—until death, do you part—they didn’t believe anything, not even death, could ever part them.

[writingwife-83]

Prompt No. 19, por favor!

Taken from this list- https://writingwife-83.tumblr.com/post/164059902833/another-kiss-meme

19. Kisses because I don’t want you to go and maybe I can convince you to stay just a few minutes longer

This is a combo of a number of your faves. Sherlolly kisses, domestic fluff, and Victorian AU. Enjoy, my dear friend! ❤️ 

A Lifetime

It was a thrilling day.

Molly was excited to have been invited to attend a very exclusive lecture at Bart’s, which she and Sherlock hoped was only the beginning to getting her foot in the door. And Sherlock had just that morning received a telegram from Inspector Lestrade, informing him of the need to reopen a cold case. That was fortunate of course, seeing as the last case he’d solved was over a fortnight ago, just before their wedding.

She was so incredibly grateful that this was their life and their reality now, she really was. Their work, responsibility, and all the excitement that went along with it…it was all she had ever wanted and more.

Except…

Molly chewed her lip lightly as she leaned against her dresser and tried her best to finish placing some pins in her hair. Instead though, she gazed past her reflection and watched as her husband pulled the braces up over his lovely shoulders and then straightened his shirt and collar a bit. That was when he caught her eye in the reflection as well, and they held each other captive for a couple moments.

Sherlock cleared his throat then and they both smiled briefly as Molly tore her eyes away and continued fixing her hair.

Ten minutes later they milled about the kitchen, fixing themselves some tea. He handed her a cup, sliding the milk and lemon slices over to her. Molly’s fingers brushed against his as she took the little plate and she had to twist her lips to keep from smiling too widely at the memory from two weeks before. That first morning they’d awoken in their honeymoon suite and had a lovely tray of tea sent up…but then they’d taken barely a sip before forgetting the tray entirely and collapsing back into the already disheveled bed.

“Containing the spread of disease?”

Sherlock’s voice made her look up with raised brow.

“Pardon? Oh yes! Yes, that is the lecture,” she confirmed.

“I shall look forward to hearing all the details this evening,” Sherlock commented as he stirred the sugar into his tea.

“Yes of course, I cannot wait to share all that I learn,” Molly agreed enthusiastically. “And I’m sure you’re in eager anticipation of the case.”

“Eager, yes,” he replied instantly.

“Good!” Molly said with a bright smile.

She really couldn’t wait for that evening. The flat would be darkened and they would sit around the fireplace, perhaps sipping another cup of tea as Molly related the fascinating parts of the lecture and Sherlock described how the casework went. They’d be wrapped comfortably in their dressing gowns and wrapped up in each other and-

Molly shook her head and took a hearty gulp of the hot liquid in her cup. This sort of daydreaming would not do.

Twenty minutes later and the Holmes were dutifully putting on their coats, hats, and gloves by the door.

“We shall need separate cabs,” Sherlock commented as they walked down the stairs to the bottom landing. “Not going in the same direction.”

“Oh,” Molly replied, disappointment briefly visibly in her expression. “Yes, of course.”

He reached for the handle…

“Wait! Your necktie!” Molly tugged at his shoulder to turn him round and began fiddling with the tie which was absolutely not in need of straightening.

Their eyes locked instantly, and as she tried to act like she was adjusting his tie, she realized that what she was unconsciously doing was to pull downward on the material, inching her husband’s face closer and closer to her own. She was pretty sure she heard him growl out a soft, “blast” just before she reached his lips.

Molly let out a deep sigh of relief and satisfaction as they sunk into a kiss, the kind which had now become comfortable and familiar as well as spine tinglingly delicious.

Sherlock emitted a little groan as he pulled back. “You’ve done it now, Mrs. Holmes.”

She smiled innocently. “Have I?”

“I had been using quite a bit of mental energy this morning to avoid thoughts of kissing you. You have made a ruin of all my efforts,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Sorry, darling,” she whispered with a little giggle while leaning in to trail kisses along his jaw.

“You are…far from sorry,” he correctly deduced, shutting his eyes at the feeling of his wife’s lips.

“I can’t help it,” she said between feathery kisses on his face. “I’ve grown so accustomed to spending our days and nights together, and mostly in each other’s arms, that it’s a bit more difficult than I anticipated to get all properly dressed to be out and about and away from you till this evening.”

Sherlock made a thoughtful little expression. “It is hateful how very much clothing we’re currently wearing, isn’t it?”

Molly laughed again. “It is indeed! How I long for my nightdress and dressing gown…” she dropped her voice while lazily running her thumb along his bottom lip. “…and nothing.”

“Mm,” he rumbled in reply, “nothing is my personal favorite.”

The subject matter making her naturally itch for more, Molly leaned into him again, tasting his mouth with slow and passionate appreciation, and causing her husband to pull her into an especially tight embrace which quickly began to make them forget that lectures and cases and the entire rest of the world even existed…

“Oh for heaven’s sake!”

Their heads whipped around to see Mrs. Hudson coming out of her flat.

“The two of you have plenty of time for all that,” their beloved landlady said with a laugh and a wink at them as she scooted past and out the front door. “Try getting out in the sunshine for a change today!”

Molly smiled shyly at her as she left and then glanced back up at Sherlock. “Suppose she’s right.”

“She is, I admit,” Sherlock replied, drawing what looked like a deep breath of courage before holding the door for his wife and gesturing for her to go ahead. “Plenty of time for all that later!”

“Yes, plenty,” Molly agreed, the reminder warming her from the inside out. “We’ve got a lifetime.”

💋💋💋

[notagarroter]

Shopping

Eurus eventually did start speaking again, which was hailed by the Sherrinford doctors as a major therapeutic breakthrough.  They met with her every day after that, and soon enough they all agreed that she was completely reformed and could be released to the care of her family.  

Mummy and Father were delighted, of course, and Mycroft apparently thought it best to go along with the official story.  Sherlock, for his part, had his doubts about the sincerity of his sister's rehabilitation, but he decided to keep them to himself.  It would only worry John, and anyway, with Moriarty definitely dead and Mycroft on his best behavior, Sherlock had recently found himself without an arch-nemesis, which was a sad state of affairs for the world's only consulting detective.  Eurus might at least liven things up a bit. 

The only problem was, Eurus wasn't being very lively at all.  She had moved into 221b a week ago, but seemed a bit intimidated by the idea of navigating the world without the protection of a false persona.  Instead, she mostly lay around the flat in her pyjamas, flicking idly through the television channels and ordering delivery in a variety of funny voices. Sherlock had had enough.  

"Could you at least change your clothes?  You've been wearing that for days now."

"I have not," declared Eurus, insulted.  "I change my clothes every morning.  It's just that they all look the same."

"Yes, institutional white doesn't really suit you.  I think it's time to branch out."

"I suppose I could borrow your shirts and trousers..." she offered.

"Not what I had in mind. Here," said Sherlock, pulling out his bank card.  "Take this and go shopping."

"Where?  I've spent my life in an institution, I'm not exactly familiar with all the London shops."

Sherlock paced the sitting room with his hands pressed to his lips in prayer-form, considering.  "Where did you get your clothes for your alternate identities, back when you were seducing John and pretending to be my client?"

"Oh, that.  I strangled people."

Sherlock stopped his pacing and turned to his sister.  "Really?  Did you kill them?"

"Well, I didn't bother checking for a pulse, but I presume so."

He cast her a sidelong look and resumed pacing.  "You must really hate shopping."

"Maybe if I didn't have to do it alone...  " Eurus suggested.  "You could come with me.  Or we could visit your tailor."

Sherlock scoffed.  "I don't know anything about women's clothes, and neither does my tailor."

"What about your friend, then?  Molly Hooper."

"Molly?  The one whose house you broke into, placed cameras everywhere, and emotionally tortured?"

Eurus flicked her hair over one shoulder.  "Is she still upset about that? People can be so petty."

"Anyway, I absolutely forbid you to go shopping with Molly Hooper."

"Why?  She has lots of cute clothes.  I noticed when I was surveilling her."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose in disgust at the work 'cute'.  "Molly Hooper is a dear friend and a lovely woman, but you, Eurus, are a Holmes, and we must have standards.  I will not have a member of my family dressing like...  like that."  He gave a shudder and pulled out his phone.  "I have a different idea in mind," he said, dialing.  "Though I had hoped this could be avoided.  It's going to upset an extremely delicate balance, and I really hate when she's one up on me."

--------------------

The Woman turned out to be hiding out in Jakarta for some reason, but two days later she swept into the sitting room of 221b in a navy blue sheath and matching fur capelet.  John was sitting in his chair braiding Rosie's hair, while Eurus helped Sherlock tie up the loose ends from a unexpectedly intriguing counterfeiting case. Eurus looked up immediately and Sherlock could see from his sister's expression that she had registered Miss Adler's suitability as a shopping companion.

"You must be the patient," said the Woman, pulling Eurus from her chair and looking her over with an appraising eye.  "Not bad, not bad at all.  We'll have to burn this smock, of course, but there's a good figure, excellent posture.  I can work with this."

"I appreciate the favor," said Sherlock, "but you really didn't need to come such a long way for this."

Miss Adler's blood red lips spread into a smile.  "Oh, I wanted to, believe me.  I've felt like such an idiot ever since I heard your request."

"Why's that?"

"What's the first question every lesbian should ask when she meets a man who unexpectedly arouses her interest?"

Sherlock stared at her blankly.

"Oh, I know this," said John as he fiddled with his daughter's barrette. "'Do you have a sister?'"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and John shrugged.  "Harry used to ask all my rugby mates."

"A Holmes sister!" Irene exclaimed, clasping her hands together in devilish glee. "It's Christmas and my birthday all wrapped into one. Where have they been keeping you locked away all this time?"

Eurus hesitated.  "It's a long story."

The Woman raised her eyebrows.  

"It'd probably just bore you," said John.  "Unless you're desperately curious what really happened to Sherlock's beloved childhood dog."

"Oh dear, that does sound dreadfully dull.  Let's skip it."  The Woman slid an arm around Eurus's waist and tugged her close.  "Come, darling.  I'm thinking Balenciaga is your look—something with a bit of drama.  But first we need to address these split ends.  What do you think?  Are you up for a cut and color?"

Eurus's eyes shined with excitement.  "It sounds wonderful."

"Perfect.  I have a car waiting outside," said the Woman, guiding her toward the door.  

"Miss Adler," said Sherlock, pulling her back as Eurus set off down the stairs.  "Are you sure you're all right with this?"

"I'm delighted!  We're going to have ever so much fun."

She grinned wickedly and followed Eurus out.

"Well," said John, standing up with Rosie in his arms. "That's going to be weird."

"Indeed."

"Do you think you should warn Miss Adler?  About what happened to your sister's last sexual partner?"

"Oh, she knows.  I think it was part of the appeal, to be honest.  Miss Adler does love a challenge."

[mollyaprewett-blog]

Molly has a journal where she writes what will be an unpublished cookbook for her children to find after she's gone with all of their beloved family recipes created by her.

The year is 2047. It is a rainy September day. The Weasley-Potter-Granger family is returning, silent, from a nearby graveyard. Molly Prewett Weasley, aged 97, has died. Ginevra Potter { née Weasley } has not spoken a word since her mother’s passing earlier in the week. { her brothers had to offer the eulogy in her place } Heartsick, Ginny retreats from the pitying gaze and sympathetic words that her husband and children have been barraging her with for the past six days. Her feet find her way to her mother’s sewing room; she has not been in this room since her mother fell ill. But Ginny was overwhelmed with the need to be smell her mother, to feel her mother’s presence once more. s she turned the doorknob, she became seven years old again, and had the distinct feeling she’d be interrupting her mother hard at work knitting the Christmas sweaters. She did not interrupt her mother. Her mother was not there to be interrupted. The spell was broken. Ginny collapsed to the floor, a broken sob springing into her throat. She clawed the floor, the only solid substance left in her world. Her fingernails scratched into the scuffed wood floor, leaving new markings. Hysterically, she laughed. Mother would kill me for scratching the floor. Her tear-drowned eyes did not see what touched her fingers, so softly. She blinked them away, and a small parcel, clearly enchanted, nudged against her hands once more. With shaking hands, she lifted the parcel up, and opened it. Inside, there was a sealed letter. On the front, her name. In her mother’s curving script. Another choking sob. After several unsuccessful attempts, Ginny opened the letter; carefully, so as not to tear any of the writing. The charmed letter comes out, and says, in her mother’s voice:

“Ginny, dear. I knew it would be you to come in here. That’s why I’ve written this for you. The boys have their own letters, you see. Now, don’t cry, love. I was ready. I lived to see you, and the boys, and so many grandchildren. I lived through two wars, dozens of weddings, and hundreds and hundreds of birthdays. I was ready, my love. Now, please don’t fret. We won’t be apart forever. But I’ve made you this to keep you company until we’re together again. You’ll have to take care of the boys, you know. They’ll be lost. They’ll need you. But this will help. I love you, my little Ginevra. My darling, my only girl. I love you, always and forever and a day after that, Your mum.”

Ginny had to pause, several times, to hold the letter further away. She never wanted to stain the parchment. Nearly an eternity later, Ginny reached into the parcel, and pulled out a stack of nearly three hundred papers, bound with spello-tape. Embossed on the front, it read “Weasley Family Recipes: A Meal for Every Occasion, by Molly Weasley” Carefully thumbing through the pages, Ginny noticed the neat notations her mother made, that she’s so often heard Molly say while stirring a pot, or seasoning a cut of meat: “be sure to salt both sides!” “you can’t use too much butter, my dear.” And for the first time in six days, Ginny Potter spoke, holding the cookbook tightly to her chest, like a life preserver. “Thank you, mum.”