will tries to write in all he loves to his stories

The story between Jess and Rory is so important and I don’t say this just because I’m team jess. I mean, it starts with a boy who doesn’t know what love is, what a real relationship looks like, what to be loved feels like, most of all because of his family situation. Yet he gives his heart to her, he tries to improve his behaviour, he gives in to love totally. He becomes a better person, not because he wasn’t good, but because no one had showed him how to be. And for these reasons I think that it is an important story, because it is not just a love story between two people, it is the story of a single person who grows up and gets better thanks to that love. I don’t know if this makes any sense, but I had to write it down. Jess is an incredible character and he makes all the literati storyline even more perfect with his flaws.

ashcat19  asked:

Hi Emily! I love your Slytherin cartoons so much! I was wondering if you ever thought of writing a fanfic centering on the background Slytherin? I love her personality (yours?) so much, I think it would be great to read a story about her.

I feel like a fanfic of Background Slytherin would be a Drarry slashfic, where Harry & Draco are getting down to it in some classroom (after some classic SCARED, POTTAH banter ofc) but they forgot to check if anyone was in there and Background Slytherin is just in the corner just trying not to breathe too loudly cos she should have left when it all kicked off and now if she tries to leave they would know she’d been there the whole time and it would be super awkward so she just stays and tries not to look, but I mean jaysus where else is she going to look it’s fricken DRARRY happening over there, and then Snape bursts in and is all like ?????????? but then he’s all like 😏😏😏😏😏 and then you’ve got a Snadrarry situation going on then idk maybe Dumbledore & McGonagall get in the mix and the whole time Background Slytherin is hyperventilating in the corner like Friggin Christ should I??? Shouldn’t I??? and it’d end on a cliff hanger

Ok yep you convinced me, I’ll make it


@sakuraaeris1497 requested:  #97 with a chubby! insecure! female reader x Newt please. Thanks. 😉😊🙂😘😍

@fangirlwithasweettooth requested:  Hi! Could I request a Newt x reader w/ prompt 97? Maybe reader’s very insecure about the way she looks? You totally don’t have to do this. Thank you! I love your blog!! <3

@bananakid42 requested:  Hello! i really like your writing and i was wondering if you could write an angst/fluff fix w/ newt. because you know he’s adorable and i can’t get enough of him…

Thank you for all the positive feedback and all the requests! I think I currently have 13 that need to be written. Also thank you for bearing with me as I am positively drowning in schoolwork and my stress levels are not healthy. This story hits a little close to home but I tried to write it the best I could. Pretty easy to relate to. That might be why it is so long. If anyone out there is going through something similar to this, it will be okay. You will get through it. I believe in you and I know you are capable. 

Warnings: eating disorder, starving (intentional), self deprication

Growing up in England, Newt had never experienced Thanksgiving before. You were astounded at this realization and immediately decided that he would go with you to spend Thanksgiving with your family. He’d tried to change your mind at first, saying he wasn’t part of your family and didn’t want to be an intrusion. You had shrugged his excuses off, even calling your mother in front of him to ask so you could prove that they wouldn’t mind.

“They’ve been hoping I’d bring home a man for years,” you laughed after the phone call with your mother ended in her cheering and telling you how proud she was. Newt blushed at this comment and you suddenly realized what you had implied. “Not that you’re a ‘man’. I mean, you are a man but not… not like that,” you finished off lamely.

“Of course,” he agreed. “But if you really want me to go, I will.”

“Seriously?” you looked up in excitement. “You weren’t going to visit your family or anything, were you?”

“No occasion to,” he shrugged. “We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, remember?”

“I know, but you’d have free time if you wanted to see them.”

“I thought you wanted me to go to Thanksgiving with you?” He raised an eyebrow. “Now you’re trying to send me away?”

“No!” You grabbed his arm. “I want you to go!”

“Okay,” he laughed, shaking his head. “If you promise I won’t be in the way.”

“You won’t,” you clapped excitedly. “You won’t be in the way at all.

Thanksgiving approached quickly and before the two of you knew it, it was the day before Thanksgiving. You had warned Newt that your family were muggles and only your parents and brother knew of your magic. The rest of your family thought you had some important top-secret job in the US government. Your grandmother lived in Connecticut which was only a short two hour drive from New York City and you had volunteered to drive you and Newt there.

“It’ll be too suspicious if we apparate and have no explanation for how we got there,” you explained when he asked why you had to drive.

Your luggage was loaded in the car the morning before Thanksgiving and the two of you began your trip. You had no regrets inviting Newt to go with you. The drive was hilarious. You showed him some of the popular muggle songs on the radio and laughed at the faces he pulled at the lyrics. You explained to him about all of the delicious food that would be there and helped him compile a list of your favorite family recipes he had to try.

Newt grinned as he heard you rave on about your aunt’s mashed potatoes. You looked adorable in your baggy sweater as your eyes sparkled. When you caught him staring and asked what was wrong, he quickly looked away, blushing and murmured, “nothing”

The two of you pulled up in front of the house at 11:30 and you heard yells inside as your family members spotted your car. The door was flung open and people came pouring out of the house and swarmed you both.

Two young children, one boy and one girl, ran up to you and clung to your legs. You smiled down at them, ruffling the girl’s hair. “Newt, meet Ellie and Archie.” You introduced the two little ones and they looked up at Newt with wide eyes.

“Simon!” your mother called into the house as they enfolded you in a hug. A boy a few years younger than you appeared in the doorway with a grin on his face. “Can you get their luggage?”

“Sure ma,” he strode down the drive and reached into the back to pull out the cases. “Hey sis.”

“Hello Simon,” you smiled back at your brother. “Been a while.”

“I’ll get that,” Newt jumped in, taking the case with his creatures from your brother.

“This is Newt,” you explained. “He’s going to spend Thanksgiving with us.” Simon shot you a cheeky wink and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Come in! Come in!” You and Newt were ushered into the house by the horde of people and sat on the couches in the living room.

“How’s your job going?” your aunt asked, picking Ellie up and putting her in her lap.

“Things are going really well,” you smiled sincerely. “I might be getting a promotion soon.”

“And, I’m guessing you can’t tell us much about that role either?”

“Unfortunately not,” you pretended. “This is basically all I can say about it.” There was a moment of silence as this news was taken in, and then:

“How long have you two been dating?” This question came from another aunt. She eyed the two of you suspiciously.

“Oh no-”

“We aren’t-”

You and Newt both scrambled to set things straight. Your face was red and you refused to turn your gaze to him.

“We aren’t a couple,” you got out finally. “We’re just friends.” There was an almost undetectable sigh in the room at this piece of information.

“Well, I don’t blame him,” your grandmother piped up and the rest of your family turned to look at her in shock. “I wouldn’t want to be dating you either. Have you thought of losing weight?”

“Mother, what a horrible thing to say!” your mother scolded, eyes flashing. You wilted back in your chair slightly. It was true that you weren’t exactly thin. It was something that bothered you frequently but you had managed to hide it from Newt for months and you didn’t want your family to bring all the attention to your weight. Newt shifted closer to you ever so slightly and his hand found yours, squeezing reassuringly.

“I didn’t realize you two weren’t together so I had you sharing a room…” your mother looked questioningly at both of you, trying to change the subject.

“I don’t mind sharing,” Newt gave in. “But I can get a hotel if that would be more comfortable for everyone.”

“No!” your aunt insisted. “You will stay here with us and we will give you a proper first Thanksgiving experience.”

“Sharing is fine,” you agreed. “Let Newt and me just bring our stuff upstairs. Then we can come down and figure out what to do next.”

You led Newt up the stairs, cases in hand, to the bedroom you two would be sharing. There was a queen bed one side of the room and a small adjoining bathroom for just the two of you to share. You dropped your bags on the floor by the door and moved to sit on the bed. Newt put his things down too-albeit a little more carefully- and took his seat next to you.

“I’m sorry about my family,” you whispered. “They are a lot to handle sometimes.”

“Try a magical one!” Newt chuckled trying to ease the tension in the air. You tried to laugh but the sound got stuck in your throat. All you could think about was what your grandmother had said. She was right. You were overweight. You sucked your gut in, hoping Newt wouldn’t notice from where he sat next to you. “About what your grandmother said-” Newt started but you cut him off.

“We’d better head back downstairs, shouldn’t we? They’ll be waiting for us!” You jumped off the bed, seizing your opportunity to get out of the discussion. You heard Newt sigh from behind you but he followed you back downstairs.

Your weight wasn’t mentioned for the rest of the day but it was always on your mind. You skipped out on lunch, telling everyone you were still full from breakfast and that you wanted to save your appetite for Thanksgiving the next day. Your family accepted this but you saw Newt glance at you when you said this.

You pretended to fall asleep right away that night to avoid Newt and, by the time he had come back in from brushing his teeth, you were “asleep”. He stayed awake for longer than you did, thinking about your behavior. He didn’t understand how someone could find anything wrong with you. You were perfect and if they couldn’t see it, they were stupid. He decided not to share that comment with you thought. Finally, he fell asleep to the sound of your breathing and the rustling of the leaves outside the window.

You got up early on Thanksgiving to help prepare the food. Your stomach rumbled as you saw all the food for you had merely picked at your food the day before. You set to work making the sweet potato casserole as other family members took on other dishes.

Newt stumbled into the room at 10:00, hair sticking up and rubbing his eyes. Your relatives laughed good naturedly, welcoming the arrival of their guest. He offered to help cook but all his requests were shot down and he was made a cup of coffee and took a spot on the couch with your grandmother and great aunt.

The meal was ready a little past midday and a few more relatives arrived during that time. Hugs and introductions were exchanged as they met Newt. When everyone had arrived, you all sat down for the feast. The long dining room table was laden with dishes and you were all crammed around it. You and Newt sat next to each other at one end of the table.

“So, which dishes did you say I should try?” Newt prompted, looking around at all the options.

“All of them!” you laughed. “They’re all amazing! But potatoes, turkey and parsnips are always a good idea.” You winked at him and he grinned, loading up his plate. “What about you? Aren’t you getting anything?”

“Oh… yeah,” you quickly covered up, reaching to take a small serving of carrots and green beans.

“That’s it?” Newt looked unamused as he saw the bareness of your plate.

“I’m not really hungry,” you defended.

“Can I talk to you in private for a minute?” he asked sharply and you knew he wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. “We’ll be right back,” he explained apologetically and practically dragged you out into the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” you asked as if you didn’t know where this conversation was going.

“Why are you doing this, Y/N?” he shook his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied innocently.

“You’re not going to starve yourself on Thanksgiving,” he said bluntly.

“I’m not-”

“Stop Y/N. Just stop.” He sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“It has nothing to do with you!” You tried to be mad at him. It was really much easier to be mad at him for interfering than it was to feel the way you did.

“I just…” Newt struggled to find the words. “I can’t stand to see you doing that to yourself. You’re already perfect.” You gulped at his words, turning away with a blush.


“Yes, perfect,” he confirmed. “You don’t need to change at all and anyone that thinks so is daft.”

“Did you just call my grandmother ‘daft’?” You looked up at him.

“Sorry about that,” he winced. “But I still think you’re perfect.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He held you tightly and you felt tears sliding down your cheeks. “Thank you so much.”

“I love you.” Newt’s words were met with a pause and then:

“I love you too.”

Hello! (Mod intro)

Hey hi hello! I’m Reagan!

I’m a freshman animation major who loves my Shiba and my angry frogadier son from my nuzlocke comic, which is my only personal project at the moment.

My habitats:
Twitter: Reakagamine
Deviantart: Skittystrawberries
Youtube: GinjaNinjaOwO
Personal tumblr: Pastelcelebi

This is Jenko: He is my puppy love please look at him; (The one getting eaten) 

Super quick FAQ; I’ll edit to add onto this if I need to!

She’s one of my oldest oc’s and she may be a sparkle cat but I love her too much to change her. Back when I was like 13 and I made her I tried to write a story for her and made an entirely new set of clan members in all the four typical clans (Thunder/Wind/Shadow/River/etc). It’s kinda cool that I made that many characters back then but lord the story was garbage. She had two siblings back then with…. interesting names. Her little sister Cloverkit. And her brother. …….Ninjascreech. 

Through Allikatnyas warriors AMVs! I looked up to Alli a lot back then and we actually work together pretty frequently now!

Always has been and always will be. Shes the kitty love of my life. Yes that is a spiderman sticker on her crutch.

Welcome Home - RebelCaptain

Cassian wakes up after Scarif, and the only thing that matters is that Jyn did, too. 

Hey guys! I saw Rogue One about a week ago and I’m already in love with these two. Reblog with what you think!


The last thing Cassian remembers is light. Bright, blinding. Almost painful, but not quite. The air intense and warm, Jyn’s arms tight around him, her face buried in his neck. He’d closed his eyes against the glare, pressed his lips against her forehead, tried not to think about his sisters, his mother, all the friends they watched fall.

He held Jyn as tightly as could, and the last thought he recalled was of her. I could have loved you. He could feel her breath stir the hairs above his ear, and then suddenly, he wasn’t feeling anything anymore.  I could have loved you, given time.  


The next thought is pain.

Every single inch of him is on fire, his body resisting air, aid, existence itself. He can hear a manic beeping, people shouting, boots on stone floors, and a desperate voice screaming for mercy. As the wild, spinning lights fade, he thinks it might be his own.

The next time his consciousness resurfaces, it’s much less violent. Someone – a medic, a droid, he doesn’t remember – covered him in a cooling serum, and there’s a dull throb in his elbow that tells him an IV is pumping something to rehydrate him into his veins. His eyes are reluctant to open, and take more than a moment to refocus on the scene around him. They’ve got him in a private room in the medbay – which makes sense, given the seriousness of his injuries – but that thought barely registers before he realizes that his arms are empty, and Jyn is nowhere to be found. 

Keep reading

I feel like Jon and Tyrion’s respective identities are too integral to their story to just do away with it. Jon is the bastard raised with love and togetherness; born lowborn, treated highborn by his father. Tyrion is the trueborn son raised under abuse and cruelty; born high, treated lowborn by his father. To just write it all away with “oh, Jon’s trueborn and Tyrion’s a bastard” is cheap and unecessary. Their stories mirror each other– Jon, a bastard rises to great heights in the Night’s Watch, then falls. Tyrion, a trueborn Lannister, rises as an effective and powerful Hand, then falls. One loves his father; the other kills his. Both have absent mothers: Jon yearns to know his, Tyrion hardly thinks of her at all except to dwell on how he was blamed for her death.

A lot of their insecurities stems from their birth; Jon feels the stigma of being a bastard and takes it personally, whereas Tyrion tries to meet the impossible standard his father had set for a Lannister son. These circumstances of birth, of bastard and trueborn are important, they are relevant, and they shape each of the characters. To write it off isn’t a fix-it solution– it’s not a solution at all. It cheapens their fight to make peace with their identities.

I was in this delusion. That he was going to change his mind and come back to me as long as I tried hard enough. I put in all this time and energy to show him how much I loved him. I would text him no matter what, and always be there. I gave him everything. Until it finally sank in. I was putting in so much effort into someone that wasn’t putting any effort into me. I was literally pouring all my love into someone that wasn’t giving me anything back. All he was giving was “maybe someday, again.” But I couldn’t live life off maybe anymore. I realized how unhappy I truly was. And I still had this awful, heavy sadness in my chest. It was so hard, but I finally let him go. Because having half of someone is equally painful as not having them at all.
—  Chapters from my life
How to Keep Christmas Well

Surprise, @thejacketandthehook, tis I, your Captain Swan Secret Santa (not that it’s a surprise, exactly…stupid anonymous button being all flighty and stuff). This is a take on the story you requested, haters to lovers, with a twist to the concept.  I really hope you like it.  I had lots of fun writing it and getting to you know over the last month.

Oh, and this is also an ode to Charles Dickens, cause I love me some Christmas Carol goodness at this time of year.  The title comes from that story.  Emma’s the scrooge in the beginning.

Enjoy and Merry, Merry Christmas!

How to Keep Christmas Well

She should have known it wasn’t smart heading out right as the snow started, but she’d wanted to question her suspect before going to the Nolan’s Christmas party.  She’d had a hunch about the guy, which had proved correct when he’d taken off in his Rolls Royce the second she’d pulled into his driveway.  She tries to take comfort in the fact that her instincts were correct about the perp, but since she’s now stuck in a ditch in the middle of a snowstorm, she’s not feeling very consoled.

Keep reading

I Buried My Fiancé On Our Wedding Day

I buried my fiancé on what should have been our wedding day. He had been killed in a hit and run accident just three days prior during his nightly run. I stood beside his casket in my white gown, my hair done up beneath my veil, my bouquet clutched in both hands, and I wept. My parents held me up between them and practically carried me back to the car after the funeral, whispering their sympathy and love to me. They couldn’t know what I was feeling, though. No one did.

Keep reading

Secret Santa: Check Yes or No: Part one

Merry Christmas @takemeawaytocamelot !!!
Are you surprised, or did you have an idea it was me all along? I hope you enjoy this, it is a three-part story, you get part one tonight, part two on Christmas Eve/Christmas day and part three on NYE.  I had a bit of trouble getting an idea to stick for what I actually wanted to write out for you, but finally after hearing a sweet country, song inspiration hit! Can’t wait to hear what you think and if you have questions I’ll happily answer, cause I am in love with this story. Thank you so very much to @moghraidhjamie for setting up this lovely secret Santa exchange, I am honored to be part of it and eternally grateful to you for getting me writing again.

Jamie sighed in ever increasing frustration as he tried to rub off some of the smudged grey covering the left side of his hand…he hated pencils and hated more being told that if he would just hold his hand correctly when he wrote it wouldn’t happen. Above and beyond the annoyance of being told the way he naturally did things was wrong, the grey smudge was a visible sign to those around him that he was different, and oh how he hated that. Thankfully, the other boys in his class didn’t tease him much anymore, not after the last time, when he had to be pulled off another boy the school yard. Girls, however, were different; he couldn’t fight them when they made fun of him. He had been crushed last month when Lizzy MacCowan said rather loudly in front of the whole class that he was dirty and strange because the paper he passed back to her had dirtied when he rested his hand on it before passing it on.

Sighing audibly, he tried not to think on it and instead focus on the notes he was supposed to take from the blackboard. He was about halfway through when the classroom door opened. Mrs. Fitz cleared her throat and addressed the class once everyone had looked up.

“Everyone, we have a new student! This is Claire Beauchamp; she’s just moved here with her uncle. Say hello class.”

His brain went blank, a simple “hello” was beyond him. Looking at her was like touching an open electrical outlet. He had never seen a lass that looked like her before; she was tall, had curly brown hair and the deepest blush he’d ever seen covering her face. Waving slightly at the class, she looked as if she’d be more than pleased should the floor open up and swallow her.

“Why don’t you tell us about yourself Claire?” Mrs. Fitz cheerfully prompted

Claire went to speak just as Jamie in his stunned stupor leaned a bit too much into books, pushing them off the desk. The room’s silence was shattered with the booming thud; causing the whole class to jump and bust into fits of laughter. With the expectation of further introductions lost, Mrs. Fitz showed Claire to her seat.

Leaning down to clean up his books and papers, Jamie mentally cursed himself in both English and Gaelic for causing such a scene, sure that he had now showed the fascinating new girl just how clumsy he was, and knowing that he’d lost any chance of her seeing him any differently than the other girls did. Finally, getting his things together and getting his blush under better control, he placed the last book back on his desk and quickly scanned the room. She had vanished, no longer at the front of the room, he looked through the rows of desks. He hadn’t thought to check the desk to his left, it had been empty since last year when…

His thoughts were interrupted when a hand tapped him on the shoulder, looking over, he was met with a sweet shy smile and an outstretched pencil.

“Hi, I’m Claire, you seemed to have missed this.” she said in a soft English accent.

“uh, I, I’m, uh Jamie.”  He said, accepting the pencil.

She looked as if she wanted to say more, but as she opened her mouth Mrs. Fitz resumed her lesson.


Jamie took longer than normal to walk home, his mind playing over and over the events of the day. He knew he’d be asked what had kept him, and knew he’d have no answer that would excuse him neglecting his evening chores and the delay of starting his homework. But, what he did know is that should anyone ask of his day, he’d be able to tell them everything about the new girl in his class. He knew he wouldn’t be able to supply any other information about his day except for how her curls bounced up and down when she walked, how the deep purple of her dress shown so brightly against her skin, how the blue bow in her hair was slightly uneven and beginning to unknot; how when she moved past him all he could smell was the strawberries.  He had never had felt this before, never with any of the other lassies in his school. He had been mostly indifferent to them and they mostly spent their time avoiding or teasing him. She was different though, hadn’t known him his whole life, didn’t seem bothered by the things others found strange.

All he wanted was to know more, to talk with her and be around her. Unfortunately, though, he had missed the opportunity earlier when Mrs. Fitz asked if anyone would be willing to show Miss. Beauchamp around after. Rupert and Angus were assigned to escort her around, because they were the most social. He knew they would do a fine job, and they were two of his closest friends, but he couldn’t help but be more than a little annoyed that he would be missing the moments they would get. They would get to hear her laugh, they would get to know little things about her, they would get to spend time with her. He was suddenly and inexplicably jealous. He wanted that, and had no notion as to why or what to do about it.


Dinner was unusually quiet and Brian had just about enough of it. Asking his children to clear the table, he told Jamie to join him in the study once he had finished. It had been a rough few years for their little family, and he was still navigating the waters of single parenthood. It didn’t take much to read his young son, contrary to what Jamie himself might think, but one look at the lad and his faraway expression, Brian knew what was going on. A while later Jamie knocked on the study door and slowly pushed it open at Brian’s bidding him to come in. He stood awkwardly in the doorway shifting from foot to foot for close to five minutes. Brian smiled a bit watching his son, but did not speak, he knew with what he assumed to be eating at his son, the conversation would have to start from Jamie.  



“Do ye miss mam?”

The question was asked so quietly that Brian had almost missed it. He was sure that his face showed the confusion and concern he felt with the question. He was suddenly worried that the lad thought somehow that he didn’t, that Jamie mistook his ability to seem okay for his children with not having his heart break again and again each morning when he woke to a half empty bed, where once his heart lay. Trying to calm himself, he took a deep breath, schooled his features in the hope of not showing the depth of his pain and looked his son directly in the eyes. What he saw then almost made him laugh; Jamie’s question was nothing more than just a question. It was a question to break the ice, one of many he would more than likely be asking. Letting the tension leave his shoulders, he smiled as best he could when talking of Ellen and said:

“Aye I do, every second of every day. I love her vera much, son.”

Jamie nodded at that, the tension in his own small shoulders seeming to leave immediately, he continued:

“How did you know?”
“Know what?”

“That mam was the girl you loved the most and when?”

“Ah!” He smiled then, concern washing away only to be replaced with sudden understanding. “The very moment I laid eyes on her. We were about your age, ye ken. We knew each other most of our lives, aye? Well, the moment I saw her in the school yard, I was done for. That was it, my heart was hers, and always will be.”

Jamie didn’t say anything, just stood there for a long while, a small smile pulling at his lips.

Pushing a bit, Brian asked “So, what’s her name, son?”        

A visible start shot through Jamie but the smile only widened, giving away anything he might’ve tried to hide.

“Uh, weel, um…”

Brian didn’t say a word, just raised an encouraging eyebrow.

“Claire, Claire Beauchamp. She’s new, and she sits next to me, and she English, but I don’t mind, and she sits next to me and she wore purple and…”

In that moment as Jamie continued on at lightning speed telling him everything about this new girl, Brian was sure his heart couldn’t be more filled with love. He knew it would be a difficult road for the lad, love always was, but what a ride! Later he would talk more seriously on it, warn him, advise him; but for now, he’d let Jamie have his happiness.

After getting Jamie to stop talking and convincing him that he did in fact still have to get ready for bed, he helped him pick out his outfit for the next day and promised to help with his hair in the morning, agreeing that he should look his best tomorrow.  After all of the details were sorted for the next day, he left Jamie’s room, leaning on the door for a moment to say a silent prayer for his love sick son. As he walked into his own room, he spoke out loud: “Watch over him, protect him, and guide him. Because, and God help him Ellen, he’s in love.”


A few weeks later Jamie had come to some conclusions: wearing his best shirt to school was a terrible idea as he was far to clumsy not ruin it, Rupert and Angus were no good, terrible friends and he would have to pummel them at some point soon, and Claire knew far more bad words than he did.

He had spoken to Rupert and Angus about their helping Claire around, and annoyingly they had begun to tease him about his interest in the new English girl. He was sure he couldn’t blush any more as his so called friends made kissy noises at him in the hallway, but then Claire showed up. Having overheard their teasing, she promptly told them to piss off and leave him alone. This, of course, did nothing to dissuade their teasing, and Jamie was sure that his face was red enough to be confused for sun poisoning. The upside however, was that from that interaction they began to talk and he walked her back to class.

           In the weeks since Claire had arrived, she had made friends fairly easily, played with a few of the girls in their class, Geillis, Mary and Louise mainly, but now seemed more interested in spending what free time she had with him. She would seek him out in the lunch room, during their outside time they would sit on the swings and talk about their families and the places she had been with her uncle. Jamie was fascinated, and more than please that she chose him to be near.

A few days before the holiday break, Jamie found Claire sitting on the steps outside of the school as he left for the day. She was clearly waiting to be picked up.  Mrs. Fitz had come out a bit later to inform her that her uncle had called and said that he wouldn’t be able to pick her up and that she could walk home. Jamie jumped at the chance before him and offered to walk her home. Neither of them lived far, but they had never interacted outside of school before. He was unsure of what to say or do and more nervous than he’d been in a very long time. They both tried talking but ended up jumping from subject to subject with nothing really being said. They both kept their eyes straight ahead avoiding meeting each other’s eyes directly. When they turned onto her street, she stopped suddenly. He looked around and seeing that they were only just on the corner and still a good distance from any of the houses. Confused, he cocked his head a bit and was just about to say something; she took a deep breath, leaned in and kissed him. Pulling away quickly a fierce blush coloring her face she said:

“Thank you for walking me home, Jamie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” and turned on her heel and walked the rest of the way to her house.

Jamie stood absolutely frozen on that corner for what felt like forever. He was stunned, she had kissed him! He didn’t know that kissing could stop time; no one had ever told him that before.  He always thought kissing would messy, it always looked gross to him and he’d always said so when his mam and da would do it in the kitchen. But this was different, and as time began to move again, he started to make his way home. For the rest of the night he was in a haze unable to focus. He knew he looked foolish, but he was unable to keep the smile from his face, especially when he would lick his lips where hers had pressed, and he was still able to taste the fruity lip smackers she used.

A few days later when they went back to school, everything had changed. He had walked into their classroom eager to talk to her, to see how her holiday was, and to tell her of his. Finding Angus in her seat his heart sank, he looked around and found her clear across the classroom sitting with the girls, laughing and doing her best not to look at him. He held her spot at lunch but she never came, stayed with the girls and didn’t play on the swings during recess. In fact she only showed that she recognized his existence when he spoke directly to her, and even that was just a simple “hello” before she turned away from him and continued talking with Louise. He was crushed and so very confused; what had happened? He couldn’t sleep that night, kept running over what could have happened, why didn’t she like him anymore?


Two weeks, she hadn’t spoken to him in two weeks when his father had been called into the school because they had become concerned when they noticed a sudden change in his behavior. Normally a model student, he was now dozing off in class and having trouble paying attention when he was awake, showing no interest in any of the material. Mrs. Fitz had brought up her concerns remembering the year before when he lost his mother and wanted to make sure his father was aware of the situation before it got worse.

Unbeknownst to the Frasers, Lambert Beauchamp and Claire also had an appointment in the office that day. Passing the waiting area with his father, movement caught Jamie’s attention and he stopped as he saw Claire sitting next to who he assumed was her uncle. He face was drawn and it was clear that something was very wrong, he made to stop, to say something, anything; but just then they called for Claire and the man to go back and Brian pushed lightly moving them forward out of the office.  

Apologizing for the interruption, he his way through the class to his desk and quietly began pulling out his books for the lesson. When he opened his notebook a small piece of folded paper fell into his lap. Opening the note, he was sure his heart stopped.



       I’m sorry. I miss you.

Do you like me, would you maybe be my friend again?

Would you walk me home today?
Check yes [ ] or no [ ]


PS. You can hold my hand, if you want to.


He shoved the note back into his desk before Mrs. Fitz could see it and quickly tried to look like he was engrossed in his work and like nothing had happened, ear to ear smile notwithstanding. Finally managing to get a grip on himself, he had managed to get every note and problem off the board without issue before Claire reappeared in their classroom. Looking up to watch her his smile fell from his mouth in an instant, she looked like she had watched something terrible happen, dried lines streaked her face from recent tears. It took all the effort he could muster to focus on what Mrs. Fitz was going over, but he had promised his da, and thankfully did make it through the rest of the day with no issue. Though his mind had stayed on the look she had on her face and a few minutes before the bell rang he pulled out her note again and hastily scribbled something down.

He found Claire on the front steps arms wrapped around her, staring off into space.

Worry suddenly sinking in, he asked, “Claire, what’s happened?”

She didn’t answer, just simply shook her head and began to walk in the direction of home.

Halfway through their silent walk, she slipped her small cold hand into his. Neither of them said anything, but he squeezed gently and continued on. She stopped at the corner again, released his hand, took a deep breath and looked up to him.


He knew whatever she was going to say was bad and couldn’t bear it just yet. Before she could continue he thrust her not into her hand saying:

“I forgot, I got your note. Here, you’ll want the answer, aye?”

She nodded and slowly opened it, and burst into tears.

Jamie moved to hug her to say something, to sooth her, but she backed away shaking her head, not saying anything. She let her tears fall freely, but didn’t break eye contact.

Finally, when she spoke he heard his heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower’s stem.

“Jamie we’re moving; we leave in the morning.”

Ask Me

Originally posted by mn-yg

Genre: fluff, smut

Length: 4,618

A/N: this is a prequel to “Waffles”. I thought I was done with this story, but I guess I’m not. A lot of cutesy shit because life is hard enough. Also, I keep getting angst requests so I needed some lightness in my life.

Keep reading

Sometimes I wonder if there’s a time period on moving on. Does it matter how much you loved a person? Or how much you love yourself?
You have to get worse before you get better, I learned that.
I learned that I was all I had to pick me up off the floor at 3 in the morning when mascara mixed tears splattered the floor. And I was all I had to fight through it.
One day I was okay. I had felt love again. I smiled for no reason and people pointed out my happiness. But that love crumbled, too.
And I was right back to the beginning with myself.
“Don’t mention it to them. They don’t care. Keep it to yourself”
That’s what I told myself. And I tried my hardest not to bother anyone with my worries.
This time last year he had just met her. Now she’s his world.
These past few days have really broken me down and I honestly can’t say why.
I haven’t slept. I’ve stayed up all night crying about a boy who I told I didn’t love anymore. A boy who is completely in love with the other girl.
Today is five months without him. Five months that he’s been with her.
Why am I still crying about him? I have no idea what’s hurting me so much.
And it’s not fair. It’s not fair that her first love and my first love was the same person, but he loved her more.
It’s not fair that he’s happy and in love while I’m still trying to put myself back together.

And it’s not fair that I am still completely in love with him.
He doesn’t feel the same.

—  {via cheerupsavvy}
Can you hear me?

Can yu write som Fred x Slytherin where its like Lily and James? She ‘Hates’ him and he loves her and tries to ask her out in the most ridiculous ways. Until something happens to her and he saves her and she’s in the hospital wing like 'shit i ❤ him’

Can u write some Fred x Slytherin reader where it goes a bit like James and Lily? She’s like the sarcastic one that doesn’t want to go out with him but secretly likes him and he’s the kind of guy like 'EXCUSE ME Y/N EXCUSE ME HAVE YOU NOTICED ME YET?’ thanks boo

When Harry thought of his parents and all the stories Sirius and Remus had told him about them, he thought of Y/N and Fred. Fred, just like James, was head over heels for Y/N. He always wanted to get noticed by her, tried to impress her in the most ridiculous and dangerous ways. He had tried to ‘ride’ the wimping willow, which it clearly didn’t like. And when Fred tried to talk to her, he would get some sarcastic remark. Y/N and Fred were the Lily and James of their generation. And secretly, Harry enjoyed it.

“Okay, I get that, but why does it need eel eyes?”, Ron asked Y/N as he leaned over to see more of the book she was holding. The cold, crisp morning air made her shiver slightly. The sun was covered by the grey clouds that made everything look more dull. “because that makes the potion-“, she started, but got cut off as a small paper bird fluttered on the book. Y/N and Ron looked around, but they were the only ones outside. She took the paper, folding it open carefully. Ron, as curious as he was, started to read along. In messy, curly letters, Y/N could hardly read what stood in the white letter.

“Go out with me”, Ron laughed, “bet you two galleons that I can tell you exactly who wrote that”. Y/N chuckled as she crumpled the paper in a small ball, tossing it in the lake. “no need to bet, I already know”, she said, a small sigh escaping her lips. Ron smirked at the H/C haired girl, who stared at the paper as it slowly got wetter and started to fall apart. “why don’t you just give him a chance?”, Ron said after a minute of pure stillness. Y/N stayed quiet, slowly a lump in her throat. “because I don’t like him in that way, I don’t even care about him! He’s careless and insane and childish”, she managed to get out. Ron raised an eyebrow, a small smirk on his face. “sure”, He said, standing up and leaving to go inside the castle.

“and, what did she say?”, Fred asked, pulling Ron in an empty classroom. Fred had been waiting for Ron to walk in for about half an hour now so he could throw that stupid paper. But eventually he gave up and threw it, even when Ron was there. “she threw it in the Lake, man. But I bet the giant squid really appreciates it that you tried”, Ron joked. Fred laughed sarcastically. “ha-ha. I don’t get it, I’ve asked her tons of times and she just doesn’t want to go out with me!”, Fred said annoyed. He threw his arms up. Ron looked at his older brother, secretly hoping that he would finally give up trying. But the familiar, mischievous sparkle in his eyes made Ron know that he was wrong. “maybe you should just … give up?”, Ron still tried to convince Fred. “Oh, Ronnie, so cute that after this time you still think I, Fred Weasley, the better half of the famous Weasley twins, will ever give up, no Ron, I won’t”

It had been 2 days since Y/N received the note of Fred. Ever since then he didn’t say anything yet, he didn’t pay attention to her as much as he used to. And somewhere, Y/N felt sad cause of this. But she didn’t make it look like she was hurting. She put on her Quidditch outfit quickly, ready for the game that would start in 5 minutes. She sat down on a bench, listening to Harry’s ‘speech’, which was actually a lot more of stammering words like ‘we can do it’ and ‘we have a better team’. Normally she didn’t care about what he said, but maybe now she was hoping it would somehow distract her from her thoughts about Fred. He, occasionally would glance in her direction, hoping he wouldn’t get caught by her.

The Gryffindor team walked on the grass of the Quidditch pitch, screams filled the air. Y/N smiled towards Ron and Hermione. The sound of her house and friends supporting her gave her Goosebumps. The sound of the whistle made Y/N come back to the real world, making her jump on her broom and fly up in the air. The wind was blowing through her hair as she went higher and higher. A smile on her lips as she felt freer then she’d ever been. “hey, Y/N, hope you’re as good with your lips as with your broom cause then you’d be a total keeper”, Fred said with a wink. He hit a bludger away from Katie, before returning his attention back to Y/N, whose face was still bright red from his comment. A surprised look on his face, as this was the first time he’d ever made her blush or even notice him.  “Oh, so funny”, Y/N said, rolling her eyes as Fred flew away from her.

Gryffindor was on the lead, like always. Y/N was the best Keeper they had ever had and Ravenclaw couldn’t even get one quaffle through the ring, which she wanted to keep like that. Of course they had tried. Roger Davies especially tried to get the bloody ball inside one of those hoops. But Y/N had always been there to keep it out. And again he was nearing her. But she was just so concentrated on the players in front of her that she didn’t even see the bludger speeding towards her. It was only the last second that she realized what was going to happen. She closed her eyes, waiting for the impact to happen. She heard the metal ball hit skin, but she felt no pain. Quickly Y/N looked around her, seeing a tall, skinny figure lay on the ground. She immediately recognized the ginger hair, freckle covered face that now laid bloody on the ground. “Fred”, Y/N breathed out. She heard a voice say that Harry had caught the snitch and as quick as she could, she flew down to Fred, whose body laid limp on the hard ground. Y/N landed hard on the ground, harder then she expect. A sharp pain shot through her legs as landed on the dusty soil.

“Fred? Fred? Can you hear me?”, She said, shaking his shoulders slightly. Fred’s head stirred a bit as she shook him, a groan escaping from his bloody lips. “Y/N?”, He asked, his voice groggy. “It’s me, it’s okay, madam Pomfrey will come, she’ll heal you”, Y/N said, leaning her hands in Fred’s hands as they touched her cheek. The soft warm feeling of her skin on his own confirmed for him that he wasn’t dreaming. Here she was, kneeling in front of him. Being all scared and anxious about him. More people crowded around the two, making it harder for Pomfrey to get to Fred. She quickly got him to the castle, leaving Y/N, Harry, George, Ron and Hermione behind. Y/N took her broom, running towards the changing room. “hey, Y/N, hold up!”, George yelled from behind her. She spun around, facing Fred’s identical twin. “what’s the matter George? If you don’t mind I want to go and change so I can-“ “so you can go and see Fred? Am I right?” Y/N’s cheeks turned pink as she nodded. “so what if I want to?”, she asked, trying to defend herself. “I thought you didn’t care about him”, George asked. He crossed his arms around his chest, Ron stood behind him, the same smirk as only two days ago was beaming on his face. Y/N nervously twisted her robes on her hand. “he loves you too, if you’re still wondering after all of the things he tried to do to get your attention. Why do you think he would’ve taken that bludger for you? It’s not because he likes to get hit by a giant metal ball, you know”, George teased,” now go, I think he’d like to see you”

The castle always seemed to be bigger when you needed to be somewhere specific. Her feet were making lots of noise as she ran through the different corridors. Maybe, through all the hurry, she had missed a turn, or went left instead of right. She didn’t know, but she needed to get to the hospital wing as soon as she could. It was when she saw the big, wooden door that she stopped running. She walked inside, finding madam Pomfrey healing Fred on a bed on the far left. Fred winced slightly as Pomfrey stretched out his arm. “you’ll be fine, but I want you to stay for tonight”, she said as she walked away, noticing Y/N standing a bit further to give them their privacy. She nodded, signing her to get closer.

“Hi”, Y/N said sheepishly. “hi”, Fred smiled. His hair was still a mess, his face still dirty from hitting the dirty ground. “I-I … thank you, for taking that hit for me”, She rubbed her arm, slightly insecure about what to say. Fred stretched out his hand, taking hers. “it’s okay, I couldn’t let you get hurt” “I’m so sorry” “No need to be sorry, I’m okay” “no not about that, about flipping you off every time you asked me out, about ignoring you when you were being so nice and all the sarcastic remarks”, Y/N said in one deep breath. Fred grinned, pulling her closer to the bed he was laying on. She sat down at the edge, still holding his hand. His thumb was making small circles on her cold skin. “it’s okay”, He assured her. He sat up, leaning towards her, “it’s all okay”

With those words spoken, she closed the gap between them. Her pink lips melted against his slightly chapped once. The kiss felt perfect, like fireworks exploding inside them and butterflies flying inside their stomachs. “I love you”

A/N; I’d love to get your feeback guys, so please, don’t be scared to send me what you think of this One-Shot or any of my earlier ones. A lso I changed it so the reader is a Gryffindor, hope this isn’t a problem

“You hate me. Admit it.” I rolled my eyes pulling my sleeve down over my hand, that was noticeably shaking uncontrollably. I continued looking down at the ground, shaking my head as I disagreed, “I don’t.”

“Then why can’t you look at me?” His words made me pause, as he continued talking. “We used to sit outside all night and talk about everything. Now I stand in front of you, and you can’t even look me in the eye. Why is that, huh?”

My whole body shook as I took a shaky deep breath before slowly raising my head. A soft gasp escaped my lips as I stared in the eyes of the man I once loved. Tears began to blur my vision, as I tried to stay strong. I shook my head in pain looking away from him. “I can’t.” I whispered, defeated as the salty taste of tears lingered on my bottom lip.

“Because you hate me-” I cut him off quick, “Because I’m afraid of falling in love with you again.” I admit, making him silent.

“I’ve experienced the pain that looking into those eyes can bring, and I can’t go through that again.”

—  excerpt from my life #004
Seduction - James March x Reader

REQUEST: Love your imagines x3 could you do one with a very possessive James when someone tries to flirt with reader and reader goes along with it to tease him ? Thanks <3 ANONYMOUS

ANON this was really fun to write. I hope you like it!!

James was watching you. You could feel his eyes on you. He was sitting at a table near the bar, a drink in his hand, his eyes narrowed while you were talking to the man sitting next to you. His name was Brad, and he was just passing through, he told you. He was fascinated by the décor of the hotel, and you being an expert on the Cortez, he was happily asking questions.

Keep reading

First date - Namjoon

Anon Request: First date with BTS!!

A/n: I hate writing stereotypical Namjoon (clumsy and cute) but it’s all I can picture… and I love clumsy and cute.. I’ll never let Namjoon live

- Amelia

  • You meet up at the museum
  • Namjoon has a huge backpack on but looking like some kind of hiker
  • But he still manages to look bomb asf so you don’t question his attire
  • The museum is full of ancient roman and Greek antiquities
  • Namjoon’s a huge bookworm so he knows his stuff
  • You guys decided to start with a tour group but eventually Namjoon got so into a story he was telling you about a certain piece that you strayed quite far from the group
  • Namjoon served better than the guide that was actually employed by the museum
  • You spent hours in the museum
  • Normally you would’ve been bored by now but Namjoon made it fun
  • Every story he told came with this giant dimple smile
  • You tried really hard to focus on the words he was saying
  • But damn
  • He looked so… ethereal
  • ‘Please help me Zeus… his boy is going to kill me with his looks before lunch’
  • Namjoon catches you staring at him and can only blush in response
  • When you get to the exhibit with the tiny warriors you’re so antsy you just wanna play with them and reenact the scene
  • Namjoon too
  • But sadly you can’t move any of the pieces and you have to be good citizens
  • You moved on quite quick from that one Bc you’d both lose your heads staring at them
  • Namjoons told the story of the battle while his fingers twitches
  • He just want to reach out and show you what happens instead of telling you
  • But he’d recoil and groan each time causing you to burst out in giggles
  • only to be shushed by the tour guide across the room who was leading the group that left after yours (an hour later)
  • You guys were that far behind
  • You leave the museum and walk start walking down the sidewalk
  • You don’t know where you’re going
  • Namjoon lead the way
  • You both talked about your favourite exhibits
  • Yours was based on what Namjoon had told you but his was much more in detail from years of studying
  • You kept the conversation up until suddenly you were in a park
  • Namjoon laid down a red and white checkered table blanket and told you to take a seat
  • Then he pulled out lunch containers from his bag
  • ‘That’s why he had such a huge backpack’
  • “It must have been hard carrying that for so long in the museum!”
  • “It’s not that heavy y/n, besides now I’m more hungry for this food.”
  • You guys finished up the food and he offered you the last bit of orange juice
  • As he was pouring into your cup he got lost in your conversation and accidentally poured a bunch over your leg
  • “Ohmygod im so sorry”
  • Namjoon was a mess, stammering looking around frantically
  • His eyes skimmed the stack of napkins he’d brought which he then began wiping your upper thigh with…
  • until he realized how inappropriate it was for which he apologized over and over
  • At first you were shocked but then it was pretty funny
  • Namjoon calmed down and soon you both were laughing hysterically while holding onto each other
  • You fell into his chest and stayed there
  • Then Namjoon suggested that you go get new pants and that broke you apart from the moment you were having
  • Awkward blushie Joon regrets having spoken because he was having a good time holding onto you stroking your hair
  • You walked through downtown with his sweater tied around your waist in hopes to hide the stain for the small amount of time you’d still be in those pants
  • He picked you out a few pairs of jeans and made you try them on
  • You showed him each pair and he never said anything he just skimmed his eyes down your legs and nodded which made you wonder if you looked good in any of them?
  • You put the last pair on and opened the door to the dressing room
  • Namjoon’s eyebrows rose up and he said 'those are the ones’
  • He asked for the tag which you gave to him without thinking
  • You wore your new jeans out of the store looking like $10 million hanging off the arm of a man who looked like he could climb Mt. Fiji fashionably
  • It was a wild day, and a wicked date
The First (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Originally posted by buckybarneswintersoldier

Prompt: I live for angst. And apparently now Smutty!Bucky. Can you do a smut where Bucky and reader are on a mission and he calls her reckless after and yells, which pisses her off. She’s all “you never give a shit what I do why now?” And of course it’s because he secretly loves her ??

Can you write a Bucky X reader where they hook up at one of Tony’s parties, they aren’t dating. But the reader is a virgin.

Hello, could you please write imagine, where the reader is one of the Avengers, and she’s really shy and innocent. She’s got big crush on Bucky and his metal arm really turns her on, but she desperately tries to hide it. When Bucky (who likes the reader) finds out, he desides to be a cocky bastard and drive her insane

A/N: So I’ve taken 3 prompts in one here and worked them together to make one story (because you were all asking for Bucky smut, and I have no issue providing that). I hope that @metalarmandredstar, @my-unique-mind and the anon who wanted angst, enjoy- and thank you for the prompts! 

Keep reading

harricislife  asked:

Hey, so I absolutely loved the au where Dick could see colors after seeing back from dead Jason. Was wondering if you would continue with it. And as much as I love JayDick, and I want them to be together in this au, I was wondering maybe you could write Jason's POV to seeing the colors of the world, and Dick's too with reaction and support from the rest of the family. I feel like both of them should not go through this alone. Just a thought. Great fic, as all of the rest of yours are. :)

DEFINITELY need a sequel to the colorblind soul mate story w like Jason and dick coping with these new circumstances

Ask and you shall receive! But also don’t send me asks for like 24 hours so I can have a prompt free inbox for five minutes and relish in the accomplishment of completing this several months long task of writing all the prompts. 

The Colors in You 

Dick had tried his hardest to hide the fact that he saw colors when he went to the manor. As far as he knew, no one else there had met their soulmate yet, so Dick would be the only one to see the colors Thomas and Martha Wayne had used to decorate the manor. 

He was surprised by just how light everything was when he saw it all in color. Usually, he wandered the hall in the early mornings and late evenings, but with the afternoon sun shining on everything, Dick could see how bright the spaces really were. 

He stopped when he saw delicate colors out of the corner of his eye and he stepped out the french doors to the garden. He’d always been used to smelling the flowers, touching their petals, and taking them in that way, but the colors were so much more unique. Dick sat down on one of the cobbled paths in the middle of the flowerbeds and looked at everything. The bright purple and yellow of the pansies, the deep blood red roses, the shifting shades between blue and pink of the hydrangeas. All of it cradled in a mess of green leaves and vines. 

Keep reading

Soon, a christmas love story

Title: Soon, a christmas love story
Warnings: So much fluff. Also a lil sad-ish at times. But mostly fluff. Unbearable amounts of fluff.
Rating: All audiences
Summary:  Ron has never looked forward to Christmas Eve more. (A Christmas-themed love story in the form of an advent calendar - filled with snow, socks, and fairy lights.)

Read on AO3 | Tumblr tag

A/N: For @ronaldswheezy. x (SEE U TOMORROW FAM. now go get ur packing done)


On the first of December, he asks her if she remembers the socks.

His mum had sent them alongside a new Weasley jumper, on his very first Christmas at Hogwarts, and they fit it in every respect: They were thick, and cosy … and maroon.

And he’d tried to like them. He really had.

“Well, you don’t have to wear them if you don’t like them”, Hermione had reasoned with him.

“You wear them, then”, he had said, pulling off the socks. They fit his large feet almost perfectly.

“I’ll pass”, she said. “Oh, don’t pull that face, Ron, it’s Christmas, and these socks are really cute. Mince pie?”

Ron remembers grinning, and turning the socks in his hands, and suddenly not minding them as much anymore.

He has never looked forward to Christmas Eve more.


“Are those fairy lights?”

“… possibly.”

“Ginny, it’s December 2nd.”

“Are you telling me it’s too early for Christmas decoration?”

“Well … yes, I am.”

“Sorry, I can’t find … damn, where’s – hold on – “

“Where’s what?”


Ron doesn’t stop laughing for half an hour.


‘I just realised I never asked’, says Hermione, 'so – is Christmas your favourite holiday?’

'Well, I’m fine with any holiday’, says Ron. 'But if you’re making me choose, then, yeah, I guess I’d go for Christmas. Why, is Christmas not your favourite holiday? What’s cooler than Christmas?’

'I’m not picky, either’, she says. 'I was always rather fond of Halloween, though.’

Ron shakes his head.

'You didn’t grow up with Fred and George.’


“How many more days until Christmas Eve, Ron?”

“Twenty”, Ron says promptly.

“Damn it.”

'Like I’ll ever not know the days’, he tells Hermione later that night. 'Like I’d forget.’

'Of course you wouldn’t’, she answers, and he can sense the hidden smirk in that reply. 'It’s Christmas, after all.’

Ron grins into the darkness.


'I’m counting the days, too’, she tells him the morning after that. 'It’s Christmas, after all.’

Ron smiles through the rest of the day.


“Ron! You’ve got to come and look at this.”

“Gin– what?”

“C'mon. Kitchen.”

“Wh-oh. Adorable. Those edible, Harry?”

“Oi, Teddy’s already tried the cookie dough, and it’s great, right?”


“See? Maybe do go and fetch Andromeda though, we, er, went freestyle on that icing.“

“Wait a sec, I’ve got to go tell Hermione. Just – just out of curiosity, is there a reason you’re covered in flour?”



Even the joke shop is beginning to look a little festive. Everyone notices it with relief.

'I mean, he’s still not selling anything’, Ron has told Hermione, who has heard all of this before. 'But he’s letting us put up baubles. That’s something, right?’

'Yes’, says Hermione. 'That’s something.’


'Teddy’s good for Harry’, Ron tells her the day after that. 'Keeps him busy. And happy, or, well, the closest thing to happy he can be at the moment, if that makes sense. I’m not saying he’s doing well, but he’s doing better than expected, or it looks like he is. You know?’

'I do know’, she replies. 'And I agree that Teddy’s probably good company at the moment. I really hope Harry is doing as well as he appears to be, too.’

'Yeah. He’s been coping with Halloween being over surprisingly well.’


'You’re impossible’, she tells him.


'It’s weird’, Ron tells her. 'This house already resembles a Christmas shop, but it still doesn’t really feel like Christmas.’

'I reckon that’s normal’, she replies. 'And I’m sure you’ll start feeling like Christmas soon.’

Ron clings to the last word. Soon, soon, soon.


“Hi, boys. You look hungry, there’s stew in the kitchen, you know, I do believe Kingsley is making you work way too long – ”

“Evening, Molly.”

“Don’t you want to take off your jacket, Ron?”

“Ah – I’m not staying, I’ve got to go – somewhere.”

“Do do what?”

“Er … stuff.”

Harry leans over and whispers in Ron’s ear. “18 Hamilton Road?”



'In your life, how many white Christmases have you had?’, asks Hermione.

'Three’, Ron tells her. 'The first one I don’t remember, I was only a baby, but there are pictures. The second one was when I was six. Fred and George wanted to build a gigantic snowman, but – well, they failed miserably. Honestly, I think they slightly overestimated the amount of snow there was. Oh, and there was a little bit of snow in our second year, remember that? For about an hour.’


'I’m not sure if that counts’, she tells him. 'But it was nice while it lasted.’

Ron just nods, a grin tugging reluctantly at his lips.


'Maybe we’ll have a white Christmas this year’, he argues. 'You never know.’

'That would be nice, wouldn’t it?’, she says. 'I don’t think it’ll matter all that much, though. It’s going to be a nice Christmas either way.’

Ron smiles and nods to himself before he replies: 'It’s Christmas, after all.’


'I don’t want it to be over’, Hermione tells him on the fifteenth. 'I’m really looking forward to Christmas, but I am really, really scared of it being over.’

Ron’s heart aches at the thought. 'Don’t be’, he tells her, and then –

'Me too.’


Some days feel grey despite the fairy lights Ginny has put up all around the Burrow.

'They will pass’, Hermione tells him. 'Dark days always do.’

Ron rolls around on his bed and replies: 'I just want it to be Christmas Eve.’


'Me too’, she tells him, and then: 'Soon, Ron. Christmas Eve ist so soon.’


On the morning of the eighteenth, a yell disrupts the cosy morning hustle, and Harry and Ron, still drowsy from sleep, nearly drop their cereal bowls.


The yell belongs to Ginny.

Ron rushes up the stairs straight away – to tell Hermione, and to ask if she can see it too.


'There’s this Muggle song’, Hermione tells him. 'Honestly, I never liked it much, it’s really cheesy, but it popped into my head the other day and it reminded me of you. I’ll show you on Christmas Eve.’

'I can’t believe you’re keeping me in suspense’, Ron replies, but it’s no good.

Christmas Eve, he tells himself. Just five days to go now.


'Why are the last days before Christmas always the longest?’, Ron says. He’s excited, yes, but he’s tired. 'I want it to be Christmas Eve. Now. How is it still four days?’

'They’re as long as all the other days’, Hermione reminds him. 'They just feel longer because you’re really, really looking forward to it, and now you’re getting so close. Just remember, they’re as long as all the other days. And Christmas is so soon, Ron.’

'Yeah’, he replies. 'Soon.’


On Monday, he signs the lease.


The only person in the universe who is as excited for Christmas as Ron is Hermione. She has been counting the days, too, and recently she has taken up counting the hours, as well, because Christmas Eve is coming closer and closer and she wants to be fully aware of the hours passing, and the hours left until they get to open their presents, until everyone sits down in the Burrow’s kitchen, elbows tucked tightly next to each other, until they all sit in the living room avidly ignoring Celestina Warbeck’s annual Christmas podcast.

She, too, has never looked forward to Christmas Eve more.


Ginny puts up fairy lights inside 18 Hamilton Road.

It’s beginning to feel a lot like home, and a little bit like Christmas.


24th December 1998

The snow’s all gone on the morning of the twenty-fourth, but Christmas is only just arriving, and Ron feels warm for the first time in months despite the cold clawing at his cheeks.

“Hi”, whispers Hermione into his jacket, “hi – ”

“Hey”, he breathes, “hey – hey, bloody hell, you’re here –“

“I’ve missed you”, she squeaks into his neck, and Ron realises her feet haven’t touched the ground in what feels like a little eternity and a single second all at once. He loosens his grip around her waist and watches as, she, too, reluctantly lets go and straightens her coat.

“I – hi”, he splutters. “Hi.”

“Hi, Ron. Hi. Hi. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, I – you – you’re – you’re – you look pretty.”

Hermione’s cheeks turn crimson. “You – you look nice too. You’ve got snow in your hair, by the way, did you know?”

Ron looks up at the the grey sky. Tiny, icy snowflakes get caught in his eyelashes. “Oh.”

Hermione is staring at him when he looks back down. “I’ve missed you”, she repeats, “I’ve really, really, missed you, I – “

She steps closer and wraps her arms around his neck again, and Ron hugs her in return and grins into her hair.

He’s missed her hair. And he’s missed hugging her.

“Hey”, he breathes, “hey, don’t freak out, I got us a flat.”

She lets go stares up at him, all pink cheeks and ruffled hair and chapped lips. “You – you got what?”

“For – when you’re done with Hogwarts. In the summer. I can still get rid of it”, he adds. “That’s fine, really, I wouldn’t mind, but Ginny’s already put up fairy lights, so she’s going to be pissed, but – “

Hermione’s cold nose bumps against his cheek as she kisses him.”Shut up.”

“I – okay.”

And he’s missed kissing her. God, has he missed kissing her.

“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much, you idiot.”

“I’ve missed you too – me too – Herm- hi.“

“Hi”, she says, beaming, pulling back, both gloved hands still resting on his cheeks. “Hi.”

“Hi”, says Ron, his grin too big for his face and his arms still wrapped around Hermione’s waist. “Hi, I – I – I – love you.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him again, all chapped lips and icy cheeks and freezing gasps of air forming in the air between them.



“Love you too.”

“Love you too.”



“Where’s that flat you mentioned?”

“It’s – it’s here – I mean, it’s not here, I didn’t – we’re not moving into Platform nine and three quarters, I mean, if we’re moving –

“No, I didn’t think so”, she says. The corners of her mouth are twitching.

“I, it’s, it’s in London. 18 Hamilton Road. It’s nothing fancy, really, but I thought … when you’re done with school … and there’s loads of bookshelves”, he adds hastily, blushing as brightly as the scarlet tinsel Ginny’s strangled the Christmas tree with.

“We’ll stop by sometime, won’t we?”, asks Hermione. Her lips stretch into a smile, and her front teeth dig into the cracked skin. “I mean, we’ve got time to do that now. I know it’s not much”, she adds, “I know. It’s not even two weeks. But it’s time, right?”

“Sure”, says Ron. He’s still busy watching her mouth, but her words sink in eventually, and he blinks. “Time. Yeah. Sure. We’ve got lots of that.”

Hermione briefly tilts her head to the side as though saying, 'Huh’; then, she reaches up and brushes a few flyaway strands of hair out of Ron’s face. “Just snow”, she whispers.

Ron reaches up to his hair and finds it damp with melted snowflakes. “Hey, you haven’t told me about the song.”

“What song?”

“The Christmas song. You said it reminded you of me.”

“It reminded me of us, really”, says Hermione, and Ron is surprised to find the pink of her cheeks has brightened considerably. “It’s this really, really cheesy song that came out a few years back. All I want for Christmas is you by Mariah Carey.”


“Shut it, you. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Sure. Er – Hermione?”


“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Ron.”

Gosh you are a fantastic specimen” he said from across the room. Her eyes caught an inch of the glistening spectacle on the end table as she looked up from the book towards the source of soothing words. The blinds were open a bit, letting in the right amount of sunshine; but all the brightness in the room came from her radiant smile, the one she tries to hide whenever he captures the embarrassing part of her cheeks just right -  garden of roses created just for him.
He was admiring her profoundly for that’s all he ever wanted to do these days. She was the perfect concoction of heroic subtleties that he knew he could lay down his life for
—  excerpt from a story I’ll never write // collaboration between the amazing @teacup13 and @denmysterywoman