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coffeeandmagicaltales · 10 months ago

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The Auror & The Devil part 9

(FLUFF, cozy, nothing really happens, grab your tea/coffee & enjoy) MCxAESOP SHARP

The August sun has been rarely seen lately from behind the foggy curtain; most of the Highlands were shrouded in stormy clouds and mist.

Aesop wasn't sure if it was drizzling or if he had entered a tangle of fog, hiding under his umbrella as he walked slowly along the muddy road, supporting himself with a cane.

He was in an area mostly inhabited by Muggles and preferred not to attract attention with a transparent, enchanted umbrella. He stopped for a moment at a crossroads, checking which way he should turn. A black carriage passed by, pulled by horses.

"Lost, sir?" shouted the driver, an old man with a bushy beard, but Aesop denied it, cursing his pride silently. He knew where he was ten minutes ago, and in that time, much had changed.

"Just a moment!" he called, changing his mind, and the stranger stopped the horses. "I'm looking for Marcus Dimm's brewery... Do you know it?"

"Oh, certainly, it's not far. Please, have a seat next to me, I'll give you a ride, but just a short distance, as the brewery is not exactly on my way... Billy Sommerset, at your service."

"Aesop Sharp," he mumbled, grabbing the extended hand. Billy pulled him up, and Aesop clumsily climbed the steps and finally took his seat, silently thanking himself for putting pride into his colorful socks. After a moment, the whip cracked, and the horses started moving.

"It's easy to get lost here, and you, sir, seem not from around here at first glance. I don't recognize the name either... I've seen similar ones on people who recently returned from Africa, have you been there maybe?" Billy tapped his cheek with his finger and glanced at Sharp, intrigued by his scar.

"I'd rather not talk about it..." he answered wisely, having no idea what Sommerset was talking about, and lapsed into silence.

"Well, terrible what happened to our folks under Congella... My neighbor, a young lad, didn't come back. We live in strange times... I've been a witness to too many untimely deaths lately, it's a bad omen... I feel in my bones that something bad is brewing, not that I'm a pessimist... Every moment there's some trouble, they fight somewhere, and they keep inventing worse weapons for war..."

"I guess that's the price of progress..." Aesop confessed with a heavy heart, frowning. "In the wrong hands, it becomes a curse."

"True words..." the man muttered, nodding. "I see you're your own man, Sharp, and I'll tell you in secret, I don't understand this notion that someone deserves something more than someone else because they have a different skin tone or were born in a prettier house... In the end, I take them all on a ride..."

He gestured with his head towards the inside of the carriage. Sharp only now noticed that behind the black curtains, there was a coffin jumping happily on every stone. He felt very uncomfortable, and regretted looking back.

"Old Dimm has been sick lately too..." Billy confessed with sadness. "Morana, his adopted daughter, is doing her best to help him... She's a good girl, a woman to be precise, I don't believe she's 16." Sharp twitched at the sound of the familiar name and felt a pleasant warmth growing inside him. He straightened up in his seat and suppressed a smile. "...Well, she's strange, I can say, and I'm almost certain she's a witch."

"Oh, really?" Sharp pretended to be surprised, focusing all his strong will on not bursting into laughter. Billy nodded, wiped his nose with a checkered handkerchief, and continued.

"You have no idea... A real she-devil. A black cat circles around her, and lately, she brought a sick horse home... I don't know, I don't know... A peculiar beast, heh, no one believes me because no one supposedly saw it, as if it was invisible... Don't be scared when you see it... Here, have some garlic, just in case..."

Suddenly, a clove of garlic appeared in Aesop's hand. He didn't know exactly what to do with it, so he thanked and promised to use it, putting it in his pocket. The rattle of the wheels soon stopped, and they halted at a crossroads.

"I'm turning right," Billy announced and helped Sharp get down, then glanced at his pocket watch. "Almost noon... In a few minutes, Morana should be passing through here. I saw her going to town in the morning; she'll be coming back this way soon. If you tell her you have business with Marcus, she'll surely take you with her. Nice to meet you, Sharp, and I don't say see you soon!" Billy burst into a ridiculous laughter, revealing his missing teeth, nodded, grabbing the brim of his hat, and tugged the reins, signaling the horses to move.

"Likewise, Sommerset." Aesop nodded appreciatively at the gravedigger's dark humor and, leaning against a road sign, watched the carriage go. Waiting for a few minutes didn't seem like a bad prospect, especially since it had stopped drizzling... Well, at least in theory, a few minutes were bearable, but suddenly it started to feel unbearably long, and Sharp, out of impatience, limped back and forth. His thoughts circled solely around Morana... Nervously, he ran his hand through his hair and adjusted his tie. He wasn't sure if meeting her was a good idea. After all, she proposed it herself, but there was nothing stopping him from politely refusing, which he didn't. At that time, it seemed like a pretty good idea and a distraction from the lack of activity during the day... Now, however, he was afraid he might be bothering her... Visits from an acquaintance were probably the last thing the Dimms wanted now, especially her. After all, in a way, she was at work, busy with brewery matters, family...

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair?"

His heart pounded harder; the sound of hooves and the rattle of wheels mixed with a singing voice he knew so well.

"Morana," he whispered, but the smile faded from his face, and each subsequent word of the refrain pierced his heart like a thorn.

"Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme..."

He remembered when he last heard those words. A small cart emerged from behind the hill with a few barrels, pulled by a Shetland pony and its accompanying thestral, its wings masked by a blanket.

"Remember me to one who lives there, for once he was a true love of..."

She fell silent upon seeing Aesop, and he could see from afar how her face lit up with a pearly smile. She raced the horses and sharply halted near him. She loved dramatic entrances.

"Hi," she said quickly, catching her breath, and the smile didn't leave her face as she jumped down and shook the mud clumps off her worn dress. Taking Aesop's umbrella and cane, she tossed them somewhere between the barrels. In the meantime, Sharp patted Hranolka's neck, who demanded affection once she recognized him. Mora grabbed his arm and helped him climb onto the seat.

"Good to see you..." He whispered, and as they set off, he began to tell her about how he got lost and encountered the gravedigger, asking Mora for details about the war Sommerset mentioned, taking every opportunity to sneak a glance at her. Her appearance was slightly different from what he was accustomed to, and he wanted to examine her and not wanting to embarrass her by his stare at the same time. The nightsky of a thousand freckles on her sun-kissed face had increased by several dozen, forming constellations unknown to him. The makeup was also a novelty; her style seemed to deviate from the fashion of subtle colors accepted in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. Hmm... However, upon reflection, he immediately concluded that the dark, almost autumnal colors on her eyelids, along with the black, thick lines ending with a sharp edge, suited her excellently and reflected her character. Just like the golden earrings she didn't wear at school but now twinkled on the lobes and petals of her ears. He smiled at the sight of the golden star in her nose, which he noticed only when she rubbed it with delicate fingers adorned with numerous rings, as a stray strand escaped from her bun and tickled her. She always seemed modest to him, but here she was: earrings, a Deathly Hallows-themed necklace, jingling bracelets... He was quite surprised, but what could he expect - she was an adult woman, and she probably bought quite expensive jewelry with the money she earned selling ingredients collected during her escapades. Some of the earrings looked almost like goblin work, which immediately intrigued him, and he tried to remember to ask about them someday. Yes, she looked "different," but she was herself; every little movement and gaze of her blue eyes was familiar to him. And her terrible, charming laughter when he showed her the garlic from Billy... He understood how much he missed it... Missed her.

"You won't really satisfy yourself with garlic..." he mumbled upon hearing the rumbling in her stomach and handed her a cupcake wrapped in fabric, which was almost immediately unpacked by her and entirely stuffed into her mouth. He knew perfectly well that, as usual, she left without breakfast, and then didn't have time for it. "Slow down..." he laughed. "Thanks Salazar, I also made a few for the Dimms... Well, to be honest I feel a bit awkward coming at not the best moment..."

"Few people visit them lately; they will be happy." Mora assured him, speaking with a mouthful and placing her hand on his forearm. "Mr. Dimm feels a bit better, but he has to rest..."

"Wiggenweld potion probably did its job..." Sharp mumbled, looking at her askance, and she blushed. "I'm sure you gave it to him because, from what you wrote to me a week ago, he wasn't doing well. In a way... you did the right thing, but I don't want you to have trouble with the Ministry because of it. It believes that Muggles should be treated by doctors, not us... Ugh, don't look at me like that; I don't agree with everything they come up with, I'm just telling you the rules in the wizarding world."

"I added few drops to his tea, no one saw." she muttered, rolling her eyes and blushing.

"It would be right to ask him first if he agrees to alternative treatment. You probably wouldn't want me to dose you with my elixirs without your knowledge, even if they were supposed to help you..."

"Hmm, let me remind you the bottle of liquor they agreed to anything after one drink..." she nudged Sharp's side with her elbow, who nervously cleared his throat.

"Well... I just brewed it... Fig used it."

Morana laughed upon hearing his awkward attempt to explain himself. After a while, however, she became serious and admitted very quietly, "You're right... Next time, I'll ask for their permission, but I panicked... The fever didn't want to go away... Besides, they don't quite understand who I am; I don't want to scare them..."

"Did you talk to them about it?"

"I tried..."

Aesop raised an eyebrow.

"No, you didn't." he summed up, which deep down annoyed Mora but at the same time gave her a strange pleasure. The smirk, which slightly lifted the corners of his mouth, and the peculiar, sly look from under his dark lashes, which literally read her like an open book, disarmed and confused her. She liked the feeling caused by his intelligence and sharp wit.

It felt like she had said goodbye to him yesterday... It was over a month ago. Only a week and a half ago, she received a letter from him informing her about his small investigation and wanting to summarize what he had learned so far. She suggested a meeting, and they agreed on a date that suited both of them. Nothing special. Just a meeting. But no visit from her friends flooded her with such a sense of calm and comfort. She always stressed about someone's visits, wanted to make the best impression, and sometimes, wanting to please everyone (as was the case with Ominis, where butterflies in her stomach flew like possessed, turning her mind into jelly), she overdid it, which always ended with burnt cake or spilled drinks. Aesop Sharp made all her fears take a break, and they seemed to go for a beer to Sirona, leaving her alone with him and his extraordinary gentleness. The sun had slightly burned his nose and bony cheeks, which now had the color of beet soup. She had the impression that he must have dozed off somewhere in the shade recently, probably dreaming of fluffy nifflers, and during that time, the sun had peeked out from hiding and maliciously turned him red... Occasionally, he unconsciously rubbed the itchy skin with his hand. She found it amusing how his pale complexion quickly surrendered to the unusually warm summer. His British soul must have sighed in relief because it had been raining almost non-stop for a few days. Adorable.

"Poor, silly Aesop," she thought, smiling broadly. There was something different about him than usual. Maybe it was the grumpy grimace that had completely disappeared from his face along with the shadows under his eyes. He must have rested quite well, and it seemed to suit him, as he appeared more relaxed; his muscles weren't tense, as if he expected some apocalypse triggered by Garreth at any moment, and his sunken cheeks gained a bit more substance. At school, he ate fairly normally, and when he had too much work, Morana (not seeing him at the Faculty Table) would come to his class to remind him about dinner. Hmmm, sometimes he got so absorbed in his work, wanting to finish checking hundreds of essays on time, that he forgot about his hunger. When he told students that their papers would be returned the next week, it had to be the next week, and nothing could change that because he always kept his word, honorably, as a Slytherin... although, it often turned against him. Morana felt a bit sad, remembering how, towards the end of the semester, he panicked when he lost someone's essay and couldn't find it. They both searched for it for several hours, and only when he casted Levioso on one of the potion-making stations, and Morana crawled under it, did she find the mischievous parchment. It was supposed to be checked the next day, and her assurance that nothing would happen if he told the student to wait one more day completely failed to convince Aesop.

"Submit... not on time?..." he said with a slightly trembling, frightened voice. "No, no, no, Mora, that's a bad idea... I can handle it; there are still 3 hours left..."

"... Until 8 in the morning," she interjected, frowning, raising black eyebrows, and squinting her eyes. His eyes involuntarily closed, and every few moments, he discreetly yawned. Morana could barely stand on her feet, and her tongue seemed to produce words created by her mind with a delay when presenting arguments for him to postpone work and go to sleep. However, he insisted, sat down to read, and that was the end of it. Frightened by the prospect of breaking his promise or maybe appearing as an incompetent teacher, this fear often kept him awake at night, that something would not be done on time, that he would explain something wrong, and as an expert, he should know everything. He tried to control everything, and he took each lesson very seriously, something that practically no one except Morana seemed to notice. Maybe stress was taking its toll, and despite a good diet, it consumed him from the inside. He always looked good, dressed in an immaculate suit that smelled of his cologne (she could almost locate him in the castle by following the trail in the air), well-groomed beard, and perfectly combed hair... and now he looked almost radiant... Could anything be the reason for this other than the vacation? Someone?

Their eyes met. Aesop smiled shyly.

"I wonder what you told them about me? That person coming to them today is... who? Santa?"

Morana cleared her throat.

"A teacher."

"Hmmm, wonder which subject? Arts and Crafts?" he sneered sarcastically, thinking his joke was successful. His large hands, his height, gloomy clothes, and a menacing expression were rather the opposite of his idea of a typical artist, whether Muggle or wizard – someone dressed in colorful patterns, covered in paint, contemplative, and ethereal.

"Well, you could be one; you have extraordinary talent," Morana replied in a thoughtful voice, regretting that she hadn't thought of it before, because his drawings and sculptures spoke for themselves. Aesop blushed at the sound of the compliment and withdrew into himself, regretting bringing up the subject. "... but I said you teach chemistry; it seems to be the closest to what you do."

"Merlin..." he muttered, rolling his eyes, preparing for what was probably going to be the most abstract conversation in his life. "It will be funny."

From behind the mane of golden fields shimmering on the hill, a small farm emerged near the oak grove, surrounded by picturesque hills. Twisting, rocky paths and low walls separated the fields where sheep grazed. The barn, built of grey stone and roofed with slate, had been converted into a brewery. Between the tiles, a not-too-high, smoking chimney protruded. Wide doors, through which cows must have entered in the past, were now flanked on both sides by barrels labeled with a red emblem reading "DIMM'S BREWERY Finest beer est. 1790." They extended along the wall under a small, long, angular cottage attached to it, whose right half had been converted into a stable for a pony and a small carriage.

Aesop sniffed, sensing the intoxicatingly sweet aroma in the air, which he deduced as malt, bringing to mind something between caramel and raw bread dough that his mom often made without magic. Wait a minute... he thought. He recognized that smell. Sometimes, that's how Morana's parchment smelled when she handed it in for assessment or even her clothes when she returned to school after a weekend spent at the Dimms'.

Morana, just beyond the gate with a sign that read "DIMM'S BREWERY Finest beer est. 1790," stopped the horses and helped Aesop dismount onto the slippery cobblestone surface that covered the entire courtyard. She immediately handed him a cane and an umbrella. The stable boys, having greeted them, started unpacking barrels marked with a red label reading "BUTTER BEER." Morana quickly detached the pony and rushed Hranolka to the stable. Aesop wondered whether the men could see the thestral or if they weren't entirely aware of her presence in the brewery. The pony trotted slowly behind the winged beast, and they quickly reached the feed. Morana unhooked their bridles, hanging them on a hook, and led Sharp towards the cottage.

The modest rural dwelling was very well-kept; the windows sparkled with cleanliness, flowers bloomed in pots, and bees and bumblebees buzzed around them when it stopped raining. The cobblestone was cleared of all weeds and unwanted leaves. Aesop rarely visited the Muggle world, but the only difference he saw for now was the lack of magical pruning shears trimming the flowers in the pots. He felt completely at ease and, for safety, tucked his wand deep into his sleeve, not wanting to feel too comfortable and reach for it in the company of Morana's adoptive family.

The woman shook the dust off her patched dress and confidently entered the house, giving Aesop a wide smile and a chin nod to follow her. Sharp felt a bit uneasy, which always accompanied him during meetings with people he didn't know at all. He wiped his sweaty hands on his coat, and leaning awkwardly to avoid hitting his forehead against one of the beams, he took an uncertain step inside. In the brightly colored light from the stained glass windows, the room was very cozy. Warm colors dominated, hand-knitted tablecloths and napkins, patchwork throws on sofas and armchairs arranged around a pleasantly glowing fireplace. The floor creaked crisply with each of his steps, mixing with the clinking of a wooden spoon hitting an enamel pot, which Mrs. Dimm, standing by the stove, was stirring, as Aesop deduced from the smell, a carrot soup. The only problem was the... very low ceiling. Sharp tilted his head unnaturally, fearing a too-close encounter between his forehead and one of the beams, and removed his coat, hanging it on the hook near the door. Seeing that Morana had taken off her shoes, he cursed under his breath that he had to wear his crazy socks today, his lucky ones with nifflers chasing after coins. Leaning against the wall, he dealt with his footwear, not wanting to expose himself to anyone's disapproval by not following the rules in this household, despite the knee that had been bothering him a bit more for the past few days.

Morana approached Mrs. Dimm and, gently touching her shoulder, whispered very quietly that Professor Aesop Sharp had arrived.

"Yes, I know, I heard you laughing from afar already," she replied in a whisper and, patting Morana's hand affectionately, turned towards the guest, removing her apron.

"Well, well, what a sense of hearing she got..." Aesop thought, greeting her and bowing low, observing how the face of the gray-haired woman with rosy cheeks suddenly brightened with a broad smile.

"Please come in, have a seat wherever you're comfortable, I'll be right there!" she gestured with her hand, indicating the living room area. "Mo, fetch some water and please make tea, you must be freezing!"

"Mo, how lovely..." Aesop smiled, hearing Morana being referred to with a term of endearment he would have never thought of. For a moment, he stood still, contemplating this, and how well it suited Morana, then, the clinking of a spoon, which Mrs. Dimm dropped by accident on the floor, snapped him out of his thoughts. Morana went to fetch water from the well, and Aesop hobbled to help the elderly woman left in the kitchen by picking up the lost utensil.

"Can I help you with anything?" he offered, handing her a spoon, which the woman grabbed quite awkwardly, intriguing him instantly. She looked in a slightly different direction than his face when assuring him that she had everything under control, and at that moment, Aesop was sure she bwas blind. For a split second, he felt sorry for her, but he had no intention of asking intrusive questions. Seizing this moment, he very quietly took a shrunken cupcake tin secured with fabric from his pocket and, with the discreetest wand movement he had ever performed, enlarged and heated it. The scent immediately intrigued Mrs. Dimm.

"I brought a little treat for you..." he mumbled shyly. His legs were trembling. Damn, he could have taken a sip of Felix Felicis, but of course, Aesop Sharp from the past considered it foolish.

"Oh, you didn't have to!" she smiled and, sliding her hand over the countertop, found an empty plate. "Could you arrange them? I'm afraid I might scatter them all over the room." she chuckled. "Please don't be afraid of me; just make yourself comfortable. I hear you're a bit... hmmm... nervous."

Aesop's lips tightened into a line, so thin it practically disappeared from his face. He fidgeted, trying to string together some sentences, but Mrs. Dimm found his arm in the air and, patting it affectionately, signaled him to take a comfortable seat and let her finish the soup, which was starting to bubble dangerously. Morana squeezed into the room carrying two buckets of water, and with a mischievous smile to Aesop, she began to brew tea. He sat sunk in a chair that was too soft and small for him, looking at the cupcakes on the plate before him or nervously glancing at Morana in search of rescue, as if he were expecting a conversation with Professor Black at the very least.

Finally, both women sat on the sofa opposite him. Morana handed him a teacup, carefully observing his trembling hand.

"Is everything okay?" her concerned look asked, and Aesop nodded.

"My husband is feeling a bit unwell today and is resting upstairs, I apologize that he couldn't come down to greet you..." Mrs. Dimm said quietly, and Aesop immediately assured her that it was no problem and apologized for intruding at such a moment.

Mrs. Dimm smiled broadly. "You have a truly beautiful voice," she confessed unexpectedly, immediately met with Morana's sharp look and a stern "tsk" that came out of her mouth, that which amused Aesop. The old woman completely ignored her and continued, "Only that accent... Hmmm... London? No, no... That's not it... Oxford, yes. You come from higher spheres, don't you, Mr. Sharp? It's rare to hear someone speak in a similar way around here... but... You don't behave like one of them; you know the local customs as if you've lived in the Highlands for some time." She took a sip of tea and reached for a cupcake, and a sly smile danced on her lips.

It surprised him that he found a resemblance to Morana in her... Some words lingered when she spoke, the specific manner of talking, wise words... The list of such details was undoubtedly long, and he couldn't wait to start discovering them all.

"I see you have a detective's soul," he confessed jokingly. "Yes, my father is from Oxford, and I spent many years working in London by his side. My entire childhood, on the other hand, with Mummy, right in those areas."

"I knew it!" Mrs. Dimm exclaimed, almost spilling her tea, pleased with her deduction. "I love listening to detective novels; I have a whole little library, and I always dreamed of becoming an officer..." Aesop glanced towards a sizable bookcase, its shelves bent from an excess of literature. "Unfortunately... I was born blind, and a career at Scotland Yard was quickly knocked out of my head."

"Well..." Aesop cleared his throat, feeling that she might be impressed, even though he didn't quite know what Scotland Yard was. "I was a detective for almost fifteen years..."

Mrs. Dimm took in a large amount of air, and Aesop had the impression that she would start squeaking in delight any moment now. However, she composed herself and turned to Morana.

"Darling, why didn't you tell me about it earlier?"

"Mrs. Dimm, Professor Sharp needs some rest, and you probably wouldn't want him to come and tell stories all the time." Morana laughed, giving Aesop a meaningful look.

"Well, it probably would be like that..." she admitted with a sad smile, fidgeting with her legs like an impatient child. "Mo only told me that you ended your previous job, which you genuinely loved, earlier due to an accident. She didn't specify what happened, but I heard that you limp, and it's probably the result of what happened... It must have been a difficult decision... But well, life writes various scenarios... Unexpected... Often it takes away the dreams we want to give us what we need."

Mrs. Dimm's words touched Aesop deeply.

"I'm not surprised that Morana is so brilliant since she's under your care," he confessed quietly, with a soft voice, looking at Mora, who blushed and lowered her gaze.

"Hmmm..." Mrs. Dimm smiled, and her thoughts drifted towards memories. She adjusted herself on the sofa and took a sip of tea. "I don't know much about your past, but there's something in you that makes me think I can share our story... Morana is quite reserved towards people, but the way she speaks of you and trusts you... suggests to me that I can add a few details to the story known to everyone in the area... Many years we tried for a child with my husband, and when we finally succeeded and the baby came into the world... we only managed to give it a name before letting it go in our arms. I couldn't recover for a long time, and the fact that Marcus had to work, often traveling, did not help. But eventually, time healed our wounds... And so we immersed ourselves in everyday life, which didn't mean we weren't happy; on the contrary... But one day, the mailman brought me a letter in which Marcus chaotically wrote about a girl sleeping in a pile of hops between our barrels... We immediately decided to take her in, even though we were advised against it, told that she was a little witch, a devil, that there were many 'well-behaved' girls we could adopt... Ugh, as if adoption were a market, monstrous. We saw it as a sign, as magic. Little Mo had a spirited character and reminded me of myself from childhood." Aesop watched Morana closely, who looked in a different direction, and her face was covered in shadows. It was evident that she felt uncomfortable, as if someone were talking about someone else entirely, not about her. Suddenly, she stood up, announcing that she would take the soup to Mr. Dimm, slipped out of the room.

Mrs. Dimm, hearing the creak of the chair, gestured with her hand for Aesop not to stop her and sat down.

"Stubborn, always covered in mud, and seeking adventures." she continued in a calm voice. "We never prohibited her from doing what she loved, and even though she disappeared for a few days, she always returned to us with spruce branches in her hair, a few bruises, and sometimes even a knocked-out milk tooth. I forbade Marcus from punishing her because it worked the opposite of intentions... I know because I experienced it firsthand when my father often whipped me with a belt... And yet, I ran away even more, which might seem strange given my disability, but I always found a way to navigate the terrain and reach my goal... Anyway, my father was definitely someone I didn't want to be for Morana..."

"I know something about that..." Aesop interjected quietly. "My father didn't spare the belt and cane on me, which was one of the main reasons my mother left him. I know his raised voice and often his fist were a sign of his helplessness and stupidity... As is any violence against the weaker ones."

"Hmmm... I'm glad Morana found someone on her level... Although I've met all her friends and think they're wonderful, especially Mr. Gaunt, with whom I have a lot in common... They're still children and look at many things differently than Morana, or don't think about them at all. I knew there was something special about you because Morana didn't talk much about you, unlike practically everyone else. (Oh, dear, I even know what brush her headmaster uses to comb his beard.) Sometimes, she has many secrets, important mysteries."

"I rather doubt there's anything special about me..." Sharp shrugged. "Except that I'm one of the less liked teachers at the school."

"Hmm, yet I haven't seen those more liked here... Except for that boorish professor... what was his name... ah, Fig! He had quite the audacity." She smiled very mysteriously and beckoned him to come closer. "Can I see you?" she asked, raising her hands slightly. Aesop agreed to the request and crawled out of his seat, sitting on the edge of the sofa and allowing the old woman to touch his face. It was nothing new for him; Mr. Gaunt had also recognized his face in this manner when he started at Hogwarts, and all the teachers were asked to do so. Mrs. Dimm's wrinkled hands' touch was very delicate, maternal. "It might sound strange, but after hearing your voice somewhere near the ceiling, I assume you're quite tall."

Aesop laughed. "Thanks to my mum. We both walk with our heads in the clouds."

Mrs. Dimm chuckled and asked about the color of his hair, beard, eyes, to which he replied in detail, not hiding the fact that most of his beard was gray.

"I've never seen colors in my life, but I like their sound, like brown or blue. I don't like the word yellow or blonde..." She stopped when her fingers found his scar. She became serious, and her hands left his face. "Oh yes... True kindred spirit... I think I understand everything now..." she whispered very mysteriously.

What's on her mind? Her eyes covered with a veil seemed to see much more than others, observing. Suddenly, Aesop felt a bit like when he was with Morana, like a Muggle wanting to shout "WITCH!", feeling that she had abilities beyond his understanding...

"I think I've confused you a bit, I apologize; I can be very blunt..."

"You're definitely very mysterious." he admitted, suppressing laughter, and returned to his seat. Now he was not at all surprised that Fig had trouble gaining their trust, assuming that simple people, Muggles, would be less cunning than him.

Morana from the upper floor could barely catch snippets of their conversation, occasionally interrupted by the louder whistling of the wind dancing around the chimney. Every now and then, she tenderly handed Mr. Dimm a spoonful of carrot soup as he finished the previous one.

He looked much better. Seated in bed, propped up by several pillows, covered with a blanket, he could endure this position a bit longer than yesterday. He was still pale, but his skin was regaining color. Today, he even read for a while, which Morana considered a significant success. And he ate with appetite. When the bowl was empty, and Morana placed it on the bedside table, Mr. Dimm adjusted his cap, which he wore even indoors, fearing drafts, and took a deep breath, as if contemplating what he was about to say.

"I think it's a good time to discuss something with you, Mora," he confessed quietly. "In some time, the brewery and the farm will be yours, so I thought it would be best if you take over some of my responsibilities during the summer holidays this year... Of course, you can do whatever you want with the brewery, but even if you decide to sell everything, the merchants won't appear immediately; it might take a year or two, and it's better if everything works to generate as much income as possible... Don't look at me like that; I don't plan to die soon, but I want you to be able to handle everything in case I'm gone and not drown in debts." He grumbled in a stern tone, seeing her frightened expression, and continued, "Lyra and I decided that this year you will go abroad on your own... You can take someone trustworthy with you because we don't want you to be completely alone. Not because we doubt your abilities, but because loneliness can be quite overwhelming. We have much to catch up due to my illness, and I was planning to cancel the trip entirely, but I think it's a good time for you to explore the market on your own. You know how to haggle, and you know which hops are the best; I wouldn't trust anyone else with this task... Well... What's that sad little expression of yours, Mo?" he asked gently, seeing the corners of her mouth turned down, and lightly touched her cheek. "Next year, when I feel better, I'll go with you, but I'll be more of a companion, and you'll already be the boss. I'll be able to enjoy Czech beer without worrying that I'm at work." He joked, lifting Morana's spirits a bit. She smiled and placed her hand on his.

The silence was interrupted by a timid knock on the door, and with Mr. Dimm's permission, Aesop entered the room.

"Oh, Mr. Sharp, nice to meet you!" the old man exclaimed. "Please, come in. I secretly hoped I'd manage to come downstairs, but I'm not strong enough yet."

Aesop entered the room cautiously to shake Mr. Dimm's hand and began to scrutinize all the details, hoping to find some typically "Muggle" extraordinary objects, which immediately brought disappointment. Fireplace, bed, armchair, rug... Meh... He thought.

"How are you feeling?" he asked Marcus shyly.

"Well, thank you; my two angels take care of me." He glanced proudly at Morana. "And sometimes they are overly protective because I can eat on my own; I don't need to be fed." He smiled at Aesop and, after a moment, asked with a serious tone, concern in his voice, "How is Mora doing at school? Has she skipped any classes?"

Sharp immediatelly thought about killed trolles and poachers turned to smithereens, oh and a dragon, but shook his head, and Mr. Dimm's eyes lit up with pride.

"She passed her exams very well, although her po..." He bit his tongue before saying "potions" and quickly sought a substitute word. "Potential in chemistry is significant; she just lacks patience."

"That's interesting! Lately, Morana has been weighing the beer, and Mrs. Sirona, our best customer, hasn't complained about a change in its taste... You see, the process is quite complicated, and one errant sneeze cuould be disastrous."

"I see that you're a man of culture," Sharp said, shooing Morana out of the armchair and sitting down, listening with interest to Mr. Dimm.

"Well at least when it comes to bear! I know everything about it. My family owned a network of breweries for years, but after the crisis, we had to sell everything and focus on this small one to stay on the market without going bankrupt due to excessive expenses. We chose quality over quantity, and it paid off. I've been working in it for as long as I can remember. Lyra, on the other hand, studied at home when she was little. She has aristocratic roots, but her father quickly brought the family business to ruin. I often saw him drunk when I was a delivery boy visiting their house with orders, and Lyra would throw frogs into my bottle crates... None of us could afford a proper school, so we're determined to give Mo a better start. I won't allow her to be at the mercy and whim of a husband, like the daughters of my industry colleagues! Hell, with her knowledge already, she's becoming quite the competition! Maybe you'll show Mr. Sharp around the brewery, huh? And I'll take a nap." He suggested, subtly indicating that he needed rest. Morana nodded. "Please, come by again someday, Mr. Sharp; we'll have a chat and enjoy some fresh beer." He winked at him, and Aesop gladly accepted the invitation.

Morana didn't say much as they said their goodbyes and headed to the brewery. She felt like she was hearing Aesop's voice from under the water surface; he summarized the visit, pleased with the meeting. She was absent, contemplating Mr. Dimm's words, worrying about his health.

Aesop caught snippets of their conversation as he cautiously climbed the narrow stone stairs, so now, seeing concern on Morana's face, he completely understood her and fell silent, allowing her thoughts to drift in silence. She needed a moment of calm to sort everything in her mind, and deep down, he regretted leading her to the brewery, to show him how it worked, which didn't matter much to him now...

They walked slowly, him leaning on his cane, admiring the extraordinary machinery, the vats of malt, the pleasant aroma, and the ease with which Morana operated the complex apparatus. All of this wasn't important to him at the moment. He saw pain in her eyes, and he wanted to interrupt her, to talk somewhere private, in a quiet place, to let her calm down... On the other hand, he didn't have the heart to silence her story about the creamy beer, which she spun with such passion, answering each of his questions meticulously. Torn, he waited, enjoying her words.

"Aesop..." she said softly, unexpectedly, when they stepped outside. He supported himself with a cane, leaning slightly, listenning her. "I need to talk to you."

"Hm?" he asked, looking deep into her sad eyes, seeing through them the words that tangled in her mind. She lowered her gaze, glancing at servants.

"Not here, I'll escort you to the Castle; I haven't been there in ages." Aesop nodded, and with a discreet wave of his wand, he toppled a few barrels deep into the brewery, immediately alerting the workers. When they disappeared from Sharp's view, he extended his arm towards Morana; she took it, and they disapparated with a loud snap.

They walked arm in arm on the muddy path leading towards the Castle. Morana breathed deeply, seeing the familiar sight she had missed from the abundance of responsibilities.

"I had such a nice day that I forgot why I came here at all." Aesop chuckled. Yes, His deep chuckle was also something she missed, and before she could turn her head towards him, he slipped a small book, about the size of a prayer book, into her tiny hand. The cover was enigmatic, adorned with black, rough leather. Morana turned it a few times in her hands, but she found no title on the covers or the spine. In the yellowed pages, someone, probably Aesop, inserted small bookmarks. The first page was titled "Faces of Curses," and the foreword explained that the book dealt with a scientific analysis of scars and wounds that curses, dark magic spells, potions, and dark artifacts could leave.

"It's not the most pleasant read... Wizards use it for investigating crime scenes... My friend wrote it some time ago, you could say I also contributed to its creation... I marked a few cases that might interest you..."

Morana followed the first bookmark and encountered a rather drastic photograph of someone's arm marked with a monstrous wound... curls resembling burns and a few longer lacerations that seemed familiar to her own scar after a few moments. The title read: "Case 156: Memory-altering spells, memory-erasing spells." Other cases, similarly marked by Sharp, were related to Obliviate-like spells. Others resembled scars that a young Thestral had; they were only labeled as "dark magic."

Morana took a deep breath wanting to share her plans, the thoughts that had been swirling in her head for a long time... And now, when the opportunity presented itself... She didn't have the courage to confess them to anyone, as she knew she couldn't solve many issues with those she knew. Except for a certain former Auror, a detective.

"In a week, I'm going to Nitra. I want to know what happened that day to me, but... I need help," she wrinkled her brows, angry at herself for imposing on Aesop, afraid he might think she was using him for her purposes, and he might not be up for it. She was a young student; he had his own life and was her teacher, not a friend... She shouldn't... "Of course, I'll understand if the answer is 'no'..."

Aesop fell into thought, somewhat surprised by the proposition of a joint journey. He felt as if an angel was sitting on one of his shoulders, explaining to him that "traveling with a young, unmarried woman almost begged for scandal"; on the other shoulder, the devil chanted, "Adventure, ADVENTURE, puzzles, investigation, AESOP, I know you love investigations." He swallowed hard. The angel continued about conventions, while the devil raised the strongest argument: "You know... It's uncertain what awaits her there... To what or WHO clues might lead her to... Are you sure the emotions accompanying her search for her mother and father won't drown her vigilance? If she fell into an ambush, who knows, maybe she could even... die."

"Well... In a week, we have a meeting at school, but... But maybe a day later, I could reach the Floo flame in Vienna; from there, it's not so far to Nitra, I suppose..." he spoke with a trembling voice, nervously rubbing his hands together when he hid his cane and umbrella in case of meeting with any student. "If you wait for me one day, I'd be happy to help you... if you want help, because, in the end, I don't know what kind of help you're expecting from me, but I guess I'd be more useful on the spot than sending owls..." he babbled, not entirely sure what he was saying. Suddenly, a small hand grasped his arm, and a pair of two shiny eyes reflecting the cloudy sky gazed at him.

"Thank you," she whispered, taking him under her arm. Her hand rested on his forearm, subconsciously squeezing her fingers on a pretty hard muscle she could sense from undeerneeth his cloak, as if seeking Aesop's support. She felt more confident walking beside him in this way, as if he represented solid ground in the ocean that often flooded her mind with negative thoughts, especially when she had no contact with him. Aesop initially stiffened, wanting to assure her that he could walk quite well on his own... but... Well, after a few steps, he felt warmth spreading around his heart, and a blissful smile spread across his lips.

The devil on his shoulder kept chanting: "ADVENTURE, ADVENTURE! "

End of part 9, thanks for reading!

#professor sharp #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy meme #aesop sharp x mc #hogwarts legacy oc #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp smut

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aritsukemo · 1 year ago

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Welcome! 🤍

Blog's Theme Song - Falling Behind - Laufey

"Hi!!! I see you've wandered into my little corner so allow me to introduce myself while I pour you a cup of tea! I'm AriTsukemo, but most guests tend to refer to me as simply Ari! I like to write fics and read for fun!"

"I built this place with the intent of getting better at writing and brodening my anime horizen! That being said, I've already tackled quite a bit of animes! As for what my favorites are, I'd say.."

"Hm? What about games? Well, I don't play much games that I'd typically want to write about, but since you asked.."

Genshin Impact | Omori | Danganronpa | Sally Face

"If you want to know about some of the other animes and games I may have watched/played, I don't mind sitting here and telling you about them! I can make myself comfortable and— Hm? You don't have the time right now? Oh.. Alright then.."

"You want to know about the rules of this place? Well, I don't really have anything big.. I'm not really one to be so..strict, y'know? My only rule, per se is.."

Please don't be rude to the other guests here! You can be impolite towards me all you want, but I will not tolerate such behavior towards anyone else!

"As for anything else you might want a heads up about.."

I love giving people nicknames and recieving them in turn. My favorite's to call people are "Dearest", "Love", "Sweetheart", and things like that! As for recieving..well, I don't really have any preference. Feel free to call me anything!

I'm currently taking requests! If you like my works or simply like what I write for and want to request something, you should first take a glance at my rules regarding requests!

I'm always looking for a friend to yap about fics and animes with! Though, do be warned that I am a bit awkward when it comes to new friendships so bear with me..

All blank blogs will be blocked without question!

I have an obsession with using emojis/emoticons so I apologize if that upsets you! 🤍

"Do I run any other places like this? Well, yeah!"

As some may already know, I have a Wattpad Account! If you like Genshin Impact, Demon Slayer, or Omori, I definitely suggest clicking the link and checking my books out! 👀✨

"You..want to now more about me? You- You serious? Uh- Uhm, there's nothing realy interesting about me, but since you asked.."

After years of self-discussions, I've come to the realization that I pretty much have no preferences when it comes to love! I mean, there's so much to fear in this world, why would I choose to be scared of liking someone that may not fit society's norm, y'know?

I'm used to She/Her pronouns as I was born a female, but many tend to refer to me using They/Them pronouns online. I don't really care what you call me to be honest.

I've accumulated a plethora of favorite anime characters over the years, but I'd say my top favorites overall are Mitsuri Kanroji, Muichiro and Yuichiro Tokito, Shinobu Kocho, Ciel Phantomhive, Mitsuki Kiryu, Suo Hayato, and Chifuyu Matsuno!

My birthday is July 15th which, I'm pretty sure, makes me a Cancer. I don't know, I'm not really a big horoscopes person..

My music taste is the perfect embodiment of me; all over the place. From Hip-Hop to Pop to Indie, I don't really have a designated fav genre. Artist however.. Well, I'd say my all time favorite at the moment is Billie Eilish! While some runner ups would be Sabrina Carpenter, Alec Benjamin, Laufey, Chase Atlantic, and Melanie Martinez!

"Hm? You want to sit and chat after all? Hehe~! Fine by me! Let's— Ah, it seems you ran out of tea.. I'd have to boil some more for you.. Hm..how about you grab something to read from one of the sections I showed you earlier while I go and make some more tea? Alright, I'll be back in a little bit!"

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx and @romaritimeharbor

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solar-halos · 8 months ago

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do u ever think about the way olivia rodrigo invented music

just kidding i know the emotions she sings about have existed since the beginning of time but im just now realizing that if i was born in the taylor swift era i would 100% be a swiftie bc i was thinking abt olivia rodrigo’s music the other day and unironically had the thought “wow she literally invented having emotions” before i managed to catch myself. but honestly i think it’s crazy how accurately she captures all these feelings of insecurity and heartbreak (and now joy!) so perfectly!!

“lacy” and “pretty isn’t pretty” seem so similar on the surface, but i feel like lacy is more of a gradual realization that no matter what u do—or how ur actually perceived—you will never feel as feminine as u want to. there will always be people (aka Lacy) who are gonna be effortlessly elegant and beautiful and feminine and feeling jealous of that is so fuckin stupid but that doesn’t stop u from caring. and then i like “pretty isn’t pretty” bc i feel like that’s the aftermath of Lacy. idk the part abt her trying every shade of lipstick really hit bc when i was first experimenting w makeup i remember feeling so insecure that none of them seemed “my” color. also i really like the gradual buildup of “it’s in my phone/head/magazines/the boys i bring to bed” bc i feel like that describes the pipeline so well

anyway now let’s get into the new songs she released. i’m actually not sure if they’re new bc when i searched it up after it popped up on my spotify google said she released this back in 2023? so idk. but her youtube channel literally has this all released within the last few days. but my favorite thing about these songs is how im in the same era she’s in rn. that happened to me with “sour” and “guts” reopened a lot of those old wounds, so i absolutely love the healing theme (? i know that’s not the right word but it’s hard to think rn) this album has. let’s start off with obsessed since that popped up for me first

obsessed? yeah, obsessed with this fucking song. seriously. “if you knew how much i thought about her you’d think i was in love” already starting off on a banger. also i watched the mv and i loved it. this song literally couldn’t have came at a more perfect time, yall ever just randomly remember that ur s/o has dated ppl that aren’t u before? chilling realization, really

scared of my guitar? “i can’t lie to it the same way i like to you”? “i lay in your arms and pretend that it’s love”? “i’d rather be tied to someone even if they’re wrong”? oh my god. i was literally thinking about this the other day. like, being in a relationship bc u want to be or if it’s bc you’re scared of being by yourself. and i also like the fact that it’s insinuating that the other person is the better half. bc sometimes it does feel like literally just loving someone when you struggle so much with the thoughts i mentioned is just the same as stringing them along. but then also i think it’s nice to pretend you’re in love bc obviously at the beginning of a relationship you have no idea if it’s ever going to go that far, so i think we often fall in love with the idea of being loved. which sounds a bit corny when i put it like that, but scared of my guitar made *me* feel like a tortured poet bc i used to be like “im chill ! :o)” and then open up ao3 and write a billy taupe/lucy gray story like girl…. that’s not the same as olivia rodrigo being folksy and cute

speaking of being folksy and cute, “girl i’ve always been” is so folksy and cute! i literally hate country music so fucking much (i’m sorry… one time this guy in hs played God’s Country in front of the class for a presentation and he stood there kinda ominously so ever since then i’ve kinda hated it) but this song was nice i liked it! i like the confidence it exudes, someone already mentioned this in the comments but it really is giving off lucy gray vibes, especially “with venom on my tongue u ask me who i’ve become” like okayyy someone needs to write a billy taupe/ lucy gray inspired story abt that line immediately. i don’t really have much more to say since this one was the one i found the least personally relatable, but i love the sassiness of it all!!

stranger. this one was a FUCKING banger, this was the sort of era i was in when guts released so im so glad miss olivia rodrigo could put the feeling of realizing u don’t *need* someone u thought u literally couldn’t live without into words. “i always thought it was some comforting lie ppl told” literally. also the call back to “enough for you” by saying “if im not enough for you then you’re not enough for me either” :,). i think growing up is quite nice

so american. fav! <3 <3 <3. “he’s like a poem i wish i wrote” hands down my favorite lyric fucking ever. i LOVE this song. like i said with “lacy” and “pretty isn’t pretty” bleeding into each other, i think the same applies w this song and “scared of my guitar.” like after u get over ur fear of ur guitar u realize that ur so american and suddenly wanting to get married and be in love doesn’t seem so selfish anymore. i really, really love this song (if i haven’t already mentioned that)

sorry, i know this was a long post! stranger had me bursting into tears so i told Boyfriend i needed to write in my “notes app” abt it so everyone say hi Boyfriend. but seriously im feeling so american rn i literally was like “leave me alone and don’t touch me im feeling explosively emotional” and he was like ok! here’s some fruit. and then now im writing on my phone about songs i love. like is there any better feeling??

#i wrote all that and realized it’s not a new album it’s literally guts extended 😭😭#so little did i know me and her albums have always been in the same era #but seriously i love olivia rodrigo’s music so fucking much #i hope i get to see her in concert someday that would be so cool #anyway olivia rodrigo fans what did we think abt the songs #long post #dear diary

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wheelercore · 3 months ago

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@thestrangestthing89

Sorry to put you on blast, i just want to make my point clearer.

Im not saying that theyre *literally* psychopaths (as we perceive it in the colloquial sense), of course they arent. Mike (and El) are well rounded characters who arent wholly good or wholly bad. But in a show like stranger things that sometimes goes of it way to humanize even the worst people (eg billy hargrove) (with exceptions), thats the point. Using others for your own gain is a trait that is often attributed to one dimensional evil "psychopath" villains in media, when normal everyday good people use others all the time when they are pressured to by society.

But yet in the biggest 80s horror movies we often see the villains are *checks notes* the child of divorced parents billy loomis, the physically disfigured jason vorheese, or even michael meyers, who is just evil to be evil for no reason since he was a child. Freddy Kreugar, who was abandoned as a child by his mother and adopted by his physically abusive father. These characters in a sense (with the exception of michael meyers i suppose) are the antithesis of the perfect nuclear family and being "normal". Its to say- having these experiences or simply being different makes you inherently evil so sucks to be you! These are all intentionally given references in ST: billy hargrove (rage over his divorced parents), jason carver (vorheeses motivation for going on his rampage was revenge for the killing of his mother- or in ST jason's case, his girlfriend chrissy), michael wheeler (meyer's first act in the movie was murdering his dissmissive older sister), and fred benson.

But yet there is a double standard right? Normal every day good people often set themselves apart from "bad people" or "the other" as if they are inheretly different from birth. Whoever this nebulous "bad person" is changes from decade to country to person. Nobody wakes up in the morning and goes "im going to use someone today!" Or "im going to be dissmissive of other peoples feelings!" etc etc. People often have a blindspot for the wrong in their own behavior while being oh so scared of the trauma victims who may have a personality disorder or be a DID system or have any number of "scary mental illnesses". Or someone who deals with their trauma in "weird ways" or a trauma victim who is very angry.

We call henry creel a "psychopath" because hes murderer and because its oh so creepy that he kidnapped will so hes probably a groomer! But yet mike uses this abused isolated girl who barely can even speak to DIY conversion therapy himself to fit in. milf karen pursues a high schooler for sex to fullfill her fantasies to the point of having his work schedule memorized, be the reason why he was out and got caught by the MF, went on to suffer and die horribly, and karen was never shown to give a fuck about billys death regardless because newsflash the 40 year old woman didnt actually love that teenager and was just using him to get her rocks off. Hopper can continuously murder russians for all of s3- uh for the greater good of course!, and eleven can also have a kill count count- but its okay when they do it!! Because theyre our good sympathetic protagonists and not evil and scary like angry abused antagonistic henry! Who just also happened to be born evil, which is mighty convenient!

My point isnt to say that our heroes are evil or that their actions are comparable to that of vecnas, but it is to say that good, normal, sympathetic people are often closer to the (completely meaningless term now) "psychopaths" than we like to think we are and its because we are always looks at ourselves with rose tinted glasses, overestimating our own goodness. We just like to project our own flaws onto shadowy monsters or killers that hide in the darkness like freddy kreuger or michael meyers, or demonic children as we see in horror movies from now and in the past.

This is most definitely intentional because the confirmed initial inspo for stranger things is a movie that also makes a point similar to this: Denis Villeneuve's Prisoners.

As you said, Mike and El use each other because they are insecure teenagers, thats true. Because societal pressures made them do so- they are not 100% bad people for this. But the hypocrisy comes in when we project these actions (ranging from "using others" to "murder") onto the scapegoated "scary" "other" demographic villainized by horror media instead of acknowledging our own capacity to do awful things to others when backed into a corner and given no choice.

Hence, Vecna/Henry "holds up the mirror".

It's funny when ppl are pro mil/even + anti by/ler or anti gay!mike because "it wouldnt be fair to el! This happening would mean mike only used this girl who had no life experience and barely knew how to speak and strung her along so he can appear straight/make himself straight!" Like have u considered that maybe that might be the point. That mike did use el in the show thats about how conformity forces otherwise "good" "normal" people (aka mike being queer but also being white, comfortably middle class, and able bodied) to act like "psychopaths" and use others for their own benefit? In the show in which the latest season antagonist very explicitly said his goal is to "hold up the mirror" to people? The show that tries to subvert this idea that there is this legion of shadowy born-evil monsterous "psychopaths" in our society that we need to eradicate, an idea that's ever so present in 80s horror often in the form of ableism against "scary" mental illnesses despite how supposedly progressive the 80s was?

#this post sounds like im angry im not angry i prommy #im just naturally very passionate and i love to curse #misc

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awholelottayeehaw · 2 years ago

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15 questions 15 mutuals

Got tagged by my babygirl @yourcoolauntie a month or so ago but I'm finally getting to this.

1. Are you named after anyone?

My dead name was a reference to my mom's favorite celebrity's niece or godkid, but my legal name is based on a legend in my culture. Billie just gives me gender euphoria while also protecting my identity as a teacher since I have no idea where my students lurk on this hellsite.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I'm not a huge crier, even if something is really touching or makes me sad. So I had to really think about this but I'd say the last time I really cried was in November after deciding to go No Contact with half of my family.

3. Do you have kids?

Do 6 younger brothers and a dog count? If not, no. But I am the proud honorary parental figure of my students and former students so I have at least a few hundred kids right now. Father's and Mother's Day are fun.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Who, me? Never. Who told you that. Are you a cop?

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their presence. Not even from body language, like just their energy. I had a coworker say they know when I enter a room without me having to say or do anything cause I have a big presence. So that's what I'm alluding to, how someone's presence comes off based on the energy they bring into the room/group and what they leave behind/take away when they're gone.

6. What's your eye color?

Everyone in my family has these pretty reddish brown eyes but I inherited my Elisi's deep green eyes. She once said that any animal that has bright colors and patterns is one that uses its colors as a way to advertise the fact that they would make a horrible snack and our eyes say the same and I didn't know how to tell her that she just implied we would be spicy disasters in modern slang. For the record, I'm a whole fucking meal with how fine I am.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy movies with scary endings.

8. Any special talents?

I once watched a documentary about a dude who got his hands cut off in the racist parts of the south where my family is from and it scared me so badly I learned to write with my feet so I have that going for me.

9. Where were you born?

My mom was really bad at planning so I was born on the side of a road in the middle of butt fuck nowhere.

10. What are your hobbies?

I like to tinker with cars, write fanfiction that I pray my students don't find, restore antiques, hike, cook, and scream into the void. I also like to collect rare books and ironic novelty items.

11. Have you any pets?

6 little brothers and a dog.

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

Soccer, baseball, I once competed in dodgeball, every rez/NDN kid had at least one year of fighting lessons from that One Uncle so I got to do some boxing... archery. I've done almost everything you can think of but I suck at Basketball and I'm salty about it.

13. How tall are you?

5'1

14. Favorite subject in school?

When I was in school I loved history and lit classes. We had one teacher who dressed up for the unit and another let us protest in front of the school. We had to choose a historic organization to be a part of and that was fun. Until my brother and his group pretended to blow up the school as part of The Weather Underground. He's still on the No Fly list.

15. Dream Job?

I work as a teacher but I wanted to be a coroner when I was a kid. Is there such a thing as a traveling mortician?

15. Sunsets or Sunrises?

Sunrises.

I have no idea who to tag for this so go nuts.

#15 questions

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jellyfishloveletterghosts · 3 years ago

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Minotaur Billy

@neonponders @tazeffect you both know why I tagged you.

This one's still really loose but because I'm easily swayed into sharing I will but I'll save the assassin one for later since I really only have the one scene in mind for that yet so it's in the baby baby thought stage.

This all started with the idea of Steve coming around a corner in the labyrinth and just being awestruck by the light catching on Billys 's golden fur and his sun kissed shoulders as Billy kneels tending his tomatoes. Also that one statue and fanart of the dude (blanking on his name) riding the minotaur's dick. I mean that's definitely what is happening in those right? This isn't edited but neither is anything else I've posted lately.

There is a contest being held for Lady Robin's hand in marriage and Carol is more than pissed that only men are allowed to enter per the rules. So she has Steve who's been living with her and her family, her mother his patron since his own parents cast him out to enter in her place. Steve’s not exactly a fighter, rather an artist and musician but he’s also a suckered for love and he knows Carol and Robin do love one another.

The contest is to enter the labyrinth and reach the center where some sword is and bring it back. The place is full of more creatures than just the minotaur but he’s definitely the most famous of the inhabitants having been thrown into it shortly after he was born.

Billy’s been in the labyrinth as long as he can remember, he doesn't mind it really. Sure occasionally someone comes in and tries to kill him and he has to scare them off or kill them or some other creature of the labyrinth. He’s left in peace most of the time, tends the garden he's cultivated and teaches Max to protect herself after he found her at the age of three abandoned at the mouth of the labyrinth. Murry tried to eat her but was convinced to leave her be when Billy threatened to run him through with his horns. El is around a lot too but even Billy can't quite figure out what she is all he knows is she's something because normal humans can't move things with their minds and she knows too much.

Steve bumbles his way through his first run ins, mostly with politeness and charm, Heather deciding not to drown him for coming upon her in her pool when he announces himself and offers her his cloak for her modesty. Joyce is going to kill him when she finds him towering over Will until she realizes he is helping him untangle his tail from throne vines and not hurting him. So on and so forth and Steve makes it further and further like this, the creatures he helps give him safe passage.

Steve comes around a corner and finds Billy in all his glory only a thin toga protecting his modesty weeding his tomatoes. Unable to stop staring as he looks at this beautiful monster? Man? Steve isn't sure what term fits. Billy has the torso, shoulders and arms of a man but from the hips down and the neck up he has the features of a bull, a beautiful bull all golden fur and big swooping horns that look like they may have actually been carved, smooth and looking gilded as they gleam.

It's not the first time today Steve’s felt fear at drawing a creature's attention as Billy turns and stands towering over him but it's the first time this particularity mix of fear, nerves and heat churn his belly as a flush creeps up his neck. "Those are some lovely tomatoes you've got there and what lovely golden fur." Steve tries, sword where it's been for all of today, in its sheath hanging at his hip.

Steve’s beauty isn't lost on Billy but he has no time for humans other than Max, they all lead to trouble but as he hasn't raised his sword so Billy simply directs him. "Leave, you'll keep heading toward the center if you head that way and take your first left two right and then another left after that you have to figure it out yourself." Brushing past Steve with a weary look "Don't touch my fucking tomatoes pretty boy." Disappearing before Steve can even think to respond.

Billy expects to never see him again, sure he'll be killed by the next inhabitant he runs into. He puts the pretty boy out of his mind until he hears a familiar scream, Max's scream and Billy sets off, sure he's going to have to kill that man for daring to harm her.

Steve hears a scream, it sounds young and feminin not anyone who should be involved in the contest and then he remembers the young creature he met earlier and wonders if someone is hurting one of them. No one's ever claimed Steve to be particularly smart and now is no different as instead of following the path he knows is going the right way he heads for the scream and the danger, unable to help himself.

Steve finds another contestant, some man he vaguely remembers who had boasted about traveling a great distance in order to win, he holds no interest in Robin just the vast fortune marrying her ties him to. He’s got a young girl cornered, blade at her throat demanding direction. For the first time all day Steve removes his blade from its sheets as he yells "Leave her alone!"

Billy is more than a little surprised to find the pretty boy from earlier standing between Max and an attacker protecting her. Before Billy intervenes the man manages to catch Steve in the leg turning the ground under his feet red as he collapses still keeping his body between Max and the man even as his leg gives out. "Billy!" It's Max's shout that spurs Billy to action as he uses his considerable strength to put the man down.

Billy's fur is bloody as he turns to the wobbly man as Max runs out from behind him and flings herself at Billy. Steve watches them for a moment as he lowers his sword down using it to help him stand. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to give me directions again?" Steve asks with a weak but still charming smile. Passing out before Billy can come to a decision.

"We'll what am I supposed to do with this?"

"You have to bring him home and patch him up obviously." Max says with an eye roll.

"Is that so?"

"Yes he saved my life." Billy feels the comment like a jab, he should have been keeping an eye on her today, he knew from the ceremonial horn being blown that they would be having company.

"If I must." Billy huffs like it's a terrible burden.

Steve wakes up in a bed of soft hay and furs, his wound bound and the red head he remembers from earlier hovering over him. Billy is standoffish and awkward in the beginning despite being curious and a little in love with Steve's voice as he sings sonnets for Max and tells stories, complimenting her paintings and telling her how to makes some paints of her own instead or having to rely on the rarely dropped things that make their way into the labyrinth.

Steve’s leg isn't bad. It's only a few days of rest he needs to be able to walk again, enough time for Billy and him to form a flirtation. He is a little disappointed the night Billy tells him "You can walk well enough now you should head to the center and claim the sword before someone else can claim your bride." Until he realizes that perhaps Billy’s reemerging standoffish mood has something to do with miscommunication.

"I didn't come so I could marry Robin, I came in here because my best friend Carol and her are in love but the contest was specific only a man could enter. I should still go though, I don't want them to end up parted because I wasn't fast enough."

"It'll be dark soon you should wait until morning." Billy says before continuing after a long moment of silence "perhaps you could come back after? bring them along if you want, no one here would condemn their love."

"You'd let us come? You'd want me back? How long would you let me stay?" Steve asks, chewing his lip as he stares at Billy who's fidgeting with his left horn, thumb brushing up and down it in a way Steve has come to know means Billy is nervous.

"I want you to stay as long as you wish." Billy says back, breath catching when Steve pushes into his space pushing Billy’s shoulders back until there's room to slide into his lap. His heart is beating so fast and loud Billy almost misses what Steve says next.

"How long would you wish me to remain B?"

Billy swallows hard tongue sliding out and licking over his lips, the fur brushing up onto them shorter than it is on the top of his head and falling down the back of his neck. "Always."

This would be where that statue comes in, you know the one. Steve riding virgin minotaur Billy and making him cum buckets and buckets. Steve’s never been so full and Billy’s never experienced anything like this but it's not like he doesn't know about sex Murry for one won't stop over sharing what he and his mate Alexi get up to and Billy being the farmer he is knows better than to waste good seed. Steve’s already lost and then Billy goes and puts his thick tongue in his stretched hole, fur rubbing against his ass cheeks as Billy gets every drop out of him making Steve cum into his hand so he can make sure it doesn't get wasted either.

In the morning Billy takes Steve all the way to the center and hands him a ball of thread that will help Steve find his way out and then back to Billy. He just hopes Steve was honest in his intentions to return.

Three days and Billy’s in a mood Max wisely keeps out of his way when he's at his worst. He won't hurt her physically but his mean mouth can lead to them both hurting. Billy keeps wavering between sure Steve was killed by some other creature of the labyrinth and Steve being a liar who simply used Billy to get the girl of his dreams.

Billy is in his garden picking tomatoes when a shadow falls over him "Those are some beautiful tomatoes but they've got nothing on you big guy."

Steve is laughing, his own arms wrapping around Billy as he finds himself enveloped in a hug.

"Wow Steve was not exaggerating, he is huge, if I didn't have you dear I might be tempted to find out just how huge."

"Gross Carol." Robin deadpans rolling her eyes as Carol giggles.

They all live happily ever after, though Max has some complaints because all of them are always boning and they are not quiet. Until she's older and suddenly they're the ones complaining insisting that despite technically being adults that Max and El are simply too young to be getting up to that sort of thing.

#harringrove #jellyghostfic #a lil spicy #Minotaur Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #wip outline really #I was to in the mood to toss it into the world to resist a flimsiest of reasons #carobin

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lebenspurpur · 3 years ago

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Hii!! Was wondering if you could do some slashers of your choice x gn!mysophobic s/o?

I am sick and it sucks so fucking much. Anyway at least it means I can't sleep and have time to write fanfiction for all my darlings out there.

Here you go: slashers with someone who is irrationally afraid of dirt or/and contamination.

|Michael Myers|

Michael isn't the best person out there to confront with your own fears. You have to understand that Michael lacks empathy. If he's never felt something before, he can't imagine it either.

However if he really cares for you things will change.

Michael loves blood so there are times where he just doesn't give a shit and walks in soaked in the red substance. When he's feeling nice he might clean up before he confronts you.

Otherwise, try to buy him multiple overalls. In that case, the chance of him changing his clothing are higher.

Being clean isn't Michael's biggest concern but for you, he will shower more often than he used to. If you're living in the Myers house with him, he might even clean that.

|Vincent Sinclair|

Oh god the second you tell Vincent he panics. The workshop he works in, as well as the house are both so dirty!

Vincent will do everything for you. You leaving is one of his biggest fears. Therefore doing everything to make Ambrose a paradise is his own little compulsion. He might even move into one of the houses in Ambrose with you. A lot of them are empty and Vincent will spend days cleaning and renovating.

The workshop is a no. He won't let you down there. It makes you sad, since you love watching him work but he always tries to make it up by bringing you little carvings or sketches he made.

|Bo Sinclair|

Bo thinks it's a joke first. He laughs every time you mention it but after seeing your serious expression he just freezes.

Bo really doesn't know how to deal with this. This might be the first time he'll ask his younger twin for help.

Bo hates cleaning so chances are that he'll leave that to you and his brothers.

He will try very hard to do all the messy murder stuff outside of the house or somewhere you hardly ever are. After he's finished he'll clean himself, something he used to postpone until he felt like it.

|Lester Sinclair|

Lester acts better than Bo. As soon as you tell him, he's searching for solutions.

We all know that Lester is a dirty boy, mostly because of his work. He will make sure to always shower before meeting you and both of his brothers love you for that.

Since I'm pretty sure that Lester keeps stuff he collected from the street, he will move that to the garage or somewhere you hardly ever come.

He's out of the house most of the day so the chances of him cleaning are pretty low. Maybe he will actually take days off to help you.

|Baby Firefly|

Baby is also one of the less understanding slashers. She was born in a house that looks... let's say dirty and she doesn't know any better.

Chances are that she'll just clean the room she lives in and the rest of the house stays dirty.

She values her own hygiene though so regular showers won't be a problem with her.

I advise you to get an own apartment in the city where she can visit you. Baby is not going to let you leave either way so... you know. An own apartment sounds better than being locked in Baby's room.

|Otis Driftwood|

Otis is even worse than Baby and we know it.

Better get your own apartment or house because he's not going to do anything for you.

He doesn't even value his own hygiene. Otis will always stay filthy.

|Billy Loomis|

Billy is fine with your fears.

He's considerate. He wasn't filthy before he met you so the whole situation is not really a problem for him.

|Stu Macher|

Same as Billy. Him and Stu are still young and they grew up in normal houses which means they're not dirty like the rest of the slashers.

Both, personal hygiene and cleaning the place you live in shouldn't be a problem.

|Josef|

Not a problem. Josef is very considerate when it comes to your fears. The places he lives in as well as himself are always pretty clean already.

Remind him of the situation every now and then. Josef tends to forget things, especially when he doesn't deal with them on a daily basis.

|Thomas Hewitt|

Oh god.

The old Hewitt residence isn't exactly the cleanest place and Thomas is so scared that you'll leave him. The chances of that house ever being clean are close zero.

I also advise you to get your own house. There surely are nice little cottages around the old house and you can live there.

Imagine it: a cottagecore lifestyle and your own private spot for you and Thomas? A win win situation.

Thomas might feel a bit sad that you're not living with the family but he'll get it. As soon as he realizes the benefits of your own house, said sadness will fade.

|Amanda Young|

Amanda is understanding. She'll try to be as clean as possible for you.

However, Amanda understands that fears, especially irregular ones, need to be treated.

She'll try to help you overcome your fears, step by step. Sometimes he may be too harsh in her own mission, just remind her that technically this isn't her job and she'll calm down again.

She just wants you to feel good and safe.

#slashers #vincent sinclair #brahms heelshire #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #otis driftwood #baby firefly #billy loomis #thomas hewitt #stu macher #amanda young

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hacash · 3 years ago

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ted lasso 2x05 thoughts

I was so overwhelmed by the Christmas ep that I don't think I even did a reaction post, but please consider me squealing with joy about everything but particularly Bumbercatch's knitting and Isaac as the only Santa Claus I will ever sexually fantasise about.

anyway

another Friday, another day in which the Ted Lasso writers shamelessly toy with my emotions and make my heart explode into teeny tiny pieces

I know some people didn't enjoy it but even as someone who's not that invested about romcoms I loved all the little references - I think it's always obvious when show writers are having fun with a concept and that fun ends up being infectious. that's precisely what this ep felt like: even if you don't personally vibe with it, it's still fun.

Bantr is now officially sponsoring the team! You love to see it. I wonder if we'll see any more of Dubai Air - or potentially see the financial fallout of the team going from being sponsored by a major airline to a new start-up dating app - but it's a nice bit of continuity.

I'm sure going to miss Roy-as-Pundit, but sometimes good things have to leave to make way for better things - bring on Coach Roy! The fact that his love for football ended up being the climax of the whole romcom arc was lovely - the dramatic romcom run to the stadium, leading to him coming back to his pitch and being greeted by his old chant? Not ashamed to say it: there were tears.

I love Isaac and Roy's underrated broship, so seeing Roy making an effort to connect with him and encourage him was absolutely lovely. And Roy and Ted back together again!

There were so many pure moments in this ep I can't even begin to describe. Getting Isaac back to himself by reminding him what he loved about the game as a kid all over again? More tears. Him leading the warm-up with a goofy kids' game and all the guys remembering to just have fun with a game they would all have fallen in love with when they were all young. Niagara Falls.

THE HIGGINSES. Such an unjaded portrayal of an established married couple who are still as bonkers about each other as they've always been.

Silly Rebecca! Silly stretching Rebecca! <3 <3 <3

Nate's on the right path in settling into himself and gaining more confidence, but we've still clearly got a little way to go - I'm interested to see if the introduction of Roy to the coaching team will have a big impact (after all, we know Nate's always looked up to Roy, and if there's anyone who Nate will worry is about to take his place...). I'm glad we're getting more demonstrations of why Nate's been acting out a bit this season, and seeing more of his insecurities just makes me want to hug him. (And yes, I'm still waiting for the Nate Strut.)

Also I love how geniune and kind Keeley was with Nate and figuring out straight away that he didn’t want to get famous just for fame’s sake. I really want to see more of them in future: I feel like Nate needs some good female friends.

Dani: 'My mother said I was born caffeinated.' OH DANI.

Sadly not much Sam or Jamie in this episode, but I appreciate Sam's recognition of the Bridget Jones movies. (On that note: as another romcom shoutout I would have loved to see a mock-up of the Colin Firth and Hugh Grant fight in this episode - arguably the best scene in romcom history - but I realise the universe cannot give us everything.)

Colin posting about Welsh independence! I've said it before and I'll say it again: every new episode I start by thinking I couldn’t love his character more, and every episode Billy Harris and the writers decide to prove me wrong.

‘But it will all work out. Now it may not work out how you think it will, or how you hope it does, but believe me: it will all work out exactly as it’s supposed to. Our job is to have zero expectations and just let go.’ WELL COLOUR ME SCARED OF THIS IMPENDING DARK FOREST.

This whole therapy thing is bearing down on Ted like an avalanche and I for one am here for the emotional fallout.

Maybe it's being screwed around repeatedly by tv showrunners who want to prove how smart they are (SW, GoT, Moffat, Marvel) by whipping the rug out from under the viewers' feet, but I am so tense and so suss about this 'Ted and Rebecca are totally chatting on Bantr' thing that it's driving me crazy. On the one hand: I need it so much it's like air. On the other hand: if this turns out to be a double-bluff would that mean that the showrunners do have Ted & Rebecca as endgame and just want to do a bit of messing with us first? I DON'T KNOW and it's driving me mad.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #the little things

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guardianofthepeanutwrites · 3 years ago

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Skirts and dresses Part 3

Here is part 3 ! Part1, Part 2, Part 4 and Part 5

Tw: There is a discussion about someone being beaten for being gay in the 40s. It's not graphic, but if it triggers you, please do not read!

To my Neko and my Powerpuff Girls: I love you all! Many thanks to Gypsywoman13 for beta-reading and helping me with the moodboard. I think I’m getting better at them?

Confused Steve

Peter looked at the two printed pictures Mr. Stark his dad had left on the desk in his room at the compound.

The pictures were old, probably around 30 years old, and the colors were a bit washed out, but Peter had no doubt the model was a young Tony Stark. It was also clear to Peter that both pictures had been taken on the spot; genuine moments of a younger Tony Stark’s life.

The first picture was Tony looking in a mirror, trying to put some make-up on; he was bent over the sink with his tongue poking out. Peter had to admit, even if it hurt him deeply, that the skirt did indeed do something sinful to his dad’s ass. Peter promised himself to not look at that picture ever again.

In the second picture was a younger version of the billionaire’s friend, James Rhodes. Rhodey, with his jeans and MIT sweatshirt, had one arm around Tony’s waist and a colored goblet in his other. Tony had a nice little white dress that Peter would never dare wear, but had suited Tony like a glove. The two were talking to each other and laughing quietly.

They looked so happy; free. Peter brought the picture to his heart, knowing what the gift really meant. Those pictures would never be leaked by his dad because those are private little moments of Tony Stark’s youth. Some people would kill for the pictures, and Peter was going to keep them as one of his most treasured possessions.

After Peter found a frame for the picture, it rejoined the last piece of his beloved skirt on his shelf.

Peter was not supposed to walk around the compound in his new purple dress, but most of the other Avengers were still on their last mission, Natasha wasn’t supposed to steal his change of clothes to go to an emergency debrief. Still, here Peter was, in his purple dress, trying to get back to his room before anyone could see him.

However, Parker’s luck was a thing, sadly.

“Peter? What-”

Peter felt dread sink in his stomach when he heard Steve Rogers’s voice call his name. Peter wanted to ignore the man, but he knew the Captain well enough to know that there was no point in doing that. Peter stopped walking and tried to brace himself before he turned with a smile on his face.

“Oh, hi, Steve. Fancy seeing you here?” Peter could tell that his smile was off, but he didn’t care.

Steve was staring at Peter’s naked legs, frowning. “Peter, what are you wearing?” He sounded very confused like there hadn’t been any Drag Queens in 1940 that blew up Nazis while still wearing their fancy dresses.

“It’s a dress.”

Some weeks ago, Peter would have been crying already, but Natasha, Pepper, and Tony’s support meant the world to Peter, and they had helped him be more confident. So, Steve’s demeanor started to grate on Peter’s nerves.

Steve’s frown only deepened. “But, Peter, men do not wear dresses! Those are for women.” Peter felt humiliation color his cheeks.

“They do, Captain. And even then, what I wear outside work is none of your business. Now, if you would excuse me...” Peter would never know how he managed to quit the scene calmy, but he would have cried if he hadn’t left the corridor fast enough.

Statistically, Peter knew that there would always be people who disapproved of who Peter was. Peter simply had hoped that no one on the team would be one of them.

The moment his door closed behind him, Peter collapsed.

Peter didn’t know how long he had stayed on the ground when someone knocked at the door he was still sitting against. Peter ignored the knocking and just let his head rest on his arms. His tears had stopped falling some hours ago and Peter had no energy left to give to anyone else.

Peter was startled when Steve started to talk at the other side of the door.

“Peter, I know you’re there, I can hear you breathing. Could you let me in, please?” Peter closed his eyes hard, not answering. He heard Steve sigh, then a thump that made the door shake. Steve was now sitting on the other side of the door. “Ok, I get it. I was-Listen I have no excuse for what I said. I was wrong.”

Peter could feel the tears falling down his cheeks again and hated it.

“I-The world changed a lot since I was your age, you know. It’s not that I am against men wearing dresses, it’s-” Steve sighed heavily. “I had this friend, his name was Bill. He never really fit the mold...I can see that now. It’s something that I have learned since living in this century, actually. Billy he...he loved men. And that was not something you could display back then.”

Peter’s breathing hitched; knowing where this was going. It still wasn’t easy to proudly be out, but it was nothing compared to what it used to be.

“They...They found Billy beaten to a pulp. I-I knew Billy used to, you know, with Bucky, sometimes, and I got so scared for him. Again, it’s no excuse, but I just wasn’t as strong as Bucky. All I could do was make sure no one would know that Bucky liked gals and pals. I probably was an ass to him too, actually. I was always reminding him not to do this or not to wear that. So, today when I saw you in a dress...and Peter, you are part of the team, and of this family, and once again I felt scared.” Steve’s voice became very low at the end of his monologue. Peter probably wouldn’t have heard him, if it weren’t for his enhanced hearing.

Peter slowly stood and opened the door, making Steve fall on his back, surprised. Steve probably had been lost in memories of old friends while talking. Steve started to sit back up, when Peter let himself fall on his knees to hug Steve.

“I am sorry you had to live through that, and I understand your point of view, but next time, I will punch you.” Steve hugged him back, chuckling lightly. Peter couldn’t stop thinking how lucky they both were to be enhanced because they would have crushed the other if they weren’t.

“Don’t worry, if it ever comes to that, I think Nat and Tony will kill me first.”

Peter frowned before he realized what Steve was telling him. His dad and Natasha had threatened Steve because he had made Peter cry.

“What- God, how do they even know?” Peter wanted to crawl in his bed and never leave it again. He was an adult for fuck’s sake, he didn’t need them to babysit him.

“I think it was FRIDAY who told them, but I can’t be sure. But, hey, Pete...they were right, I was being an asshole. And I’m really so-” Steve wasn’t able to finish his explanation because, after breaking their hug, Peter put his hand on his mouth.

“It’s ok, let’s pretend this never actually happened, ok? It’s done, and I’m sure it won’t happen again, will it?” Peter simply lifted one eyebrow like he had seen Nat and his dad do hundreds of times.

“No, well, I mean, I was born a long time ago...Maybe you could explain to me some things that I don’t understand? Educate me, I guess? ” Steve looked self-conscious about asking that while he massaged his neck with his left hand.

“I would be honored to bring the great Captain America up to date to the modern world.” Peter winked, cheekily, before he got back to his feet and helped Steve to do the same.

Steve groaned something that sounded suspiciously like the word ‘brat’. But Steve would never dare... so, Peter must have misunderstood.

“Oh, before you leave, can I ask you a question? Does Bucky really like men and women?” Steve rolled his eyes and, with a pat on Peter’s shoulder, simply left the room.

Somewhere in the compound, later that night, Bucky punched Steve for making Peter cry, even if he had absolutely no idea what had happened. Steve refused to tell.

Thank you to everyone that leaves a comment or a heart !

@starkeraddictbaby

If you want to be tagged for the next part, please DM me or leave a comment

#winterspider #read the tw #peter parker #steve rogers #5+1 things #Still 6+1 tho #fanfiction #skirts and dresses

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weasleylangs · 4 years ago

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bunny rabbits & a clover patch - g.w

Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Summary: All the times Y/N and George spent their days in the clover patch next to her house. Warnings: Minor character death (Y/N’s mother, it’s in the second paragraph), I guess a mention of the war but it’s like one or two lines and it’s super brief like blink and you’ll miss it. Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: A huge thank you to @whiz-bangs78 who sent me this ask for a made up title game that inspired his entire fic (although I changed the title a smidge)! Requests are open and constructive criticism is always appreciated! This is my new baby, my most favourite thing I’ve ever written so please be nice

Please let me know if you’re interested in being added to a tag list!

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

Y/N is five years old when she moves from the bustling city of Bristol to the quaint, little magical village of Ottery St. Catchpole. She’s just now starting to get her magic, little spurts here and there. Recently she dropped a ball down the stairs of the townhouse she and her dad live in and she somehow levitated it for two seconds before it slammed into a mirror and broke it.

Y/N’s dad is a muggle, her mother was a witch and unfortunately passed shortly after she was born. Being a single dad is hard, and being the single dad to a witch when you’re a muggle is even harder, so her dad did the only logical thing he could think of.

He knew his late wife dreamed of raising Y/N surrounded by magic, to give her the childhood she never had. Y/N’s mother was an extremely gifted muggle-born witch and she wanted nothing more than to raise her children with magic in tow. So when Y/N started to exhibit magical symptoms, he reached out to some of his late wife’s friends to find the best magical village in England. If it was magic she wanted, it was magic she was going to get.

That’s how he ends up here, in a tiny cottage for two on the outskirts of the village.

He looks down at the piece of paper in his hand. It’s the address of the ‘nicest wizarding family you will ever meet’ and it turns out it’s the house on the plot of land next to his own. Scrawled in messy handwriting is the name Arthur and Molly Weasley.

He’d gotten the note from a friend, someone who works at the ministry with Arthur. He can’t provide a magical childhood for his daughter, but he hopes the lovely family that resides next to him in Ottery St. Catchpole can.

They’ve only just moved in when there’s a knock at the door. Y/N screams in excitement as her dad opens the door and she’s met with a pudgy looking woman with fiery red hair and two identically looking boys next to her. One of the boys is missing his two front teeth in the bottom row, grinning widely and the other boy is clinging to his mother’s leg, clearly more cautious than his exuberant sibling.

Y/N immediately decides they’re going to be her best friends. Even if boys have cooties and are sometimes gross.

“I’m Y/N!” she exclaims loudly, much to the dismay of her father who reminds her to use her inside voice. This makes her pout unhappily and in turn, makes the boy clinging to his mother’s leg smile.

“I’m George!” He replies, equally loud in fashion hoping to cheer the girl up. This was not George’s best idea, however, as it then causes the missing-toothed child to declare himself as Fred so loud, Molly and Y/N’s father sends them outside.

They sit themselves down on the clover patch to the right of the house and start getting to know each other. Y/N learns there're five other Weasley siblings, their youngest being their only sister named Ginny, she's a mere two years old and their oldest is William, who they both affectionately call Billy, and Y/N learns he's almost thirteen.

“Wow,” Y/N says, suddenly feeling extremely jealous. She’s an only child and while she’s only five, she has a child’s intuition that her dad isn’t ready to meet someone and bring more siblings into her life. “I’m jealous. I wish I had brothers and sisters.”

Fred puffs up his chest and grins, “We’ll be your brothers!” The grin on his face is 100% sincere and he looks so happy to gain another sister.

“Really?” Y/N questions looking at George for approval. “Of course. Are we best friends now?” He questions and Y/N eagerly nods her head.

The three of them spend their time playing tag or showing each other their ‘accidental magic’. Molly at one point calls out the window at the twins telling them they know better than to encourage underage magic but when George winks at Y/N as he somehow manages to turn her hair blue for two seconds it’s clear he doesn’t care about his mother’s warning.

“It’s okay,” he starts when he sees the look of fear rise in Y/N’s eyes, “we’re only five. If someone comes they’ll just see three magical kids and leave.”

Soon enough, Molly is muttering apologies about staying so late and trying to round up the boys to go back to their own home. Fred ends up in a tree, saying he wants to stay and poking his tongue out at his mother.

George however, is timidly looking at the clover patch they were all sitting in and plucks one, handing it to Y/N. When she examines it, she notices it’s almost a four-leaf clover, the stem is there if you look close enough, but the leaf itself is missing. “Almost luck, for you!”

He runs away at that, looking almost borderline shy and when Fred chases him all the way home, Y/N is convinced these boys will be her friends for life.

They’re eight now, and it’s a regular occurrence for Y/N and the twins to be seen together. Their parents have started referring to them as the ‘mischief trio’ because whenever the three of them are together, no one can turn their back for a second without something happening.

Y/N’s currently at The Burrow, convincing the twins to come to see her new pet bunny rabbits. Fred is reluctant, wanting to stay and play on his toy broom and trying to convince George he wants to do the same.

Fred, as usual, has an evil plan that involves the beater’s bat in their quidditch kit and Percy’s head after he told their mum that Fred was trying to fly Charlie’s broom yesterday. This resulted in Fred getting no dessert after dinner and the eight-year-old boy wants revenge.

“I don’t know, Freddie,” George starts, looking at the small girl to his left. They might only be children, but the twins are already growing taller and Y/N can barely keep up anymore, “I kind of want to meet the bunnies.”

“Come on, Georgie! Percy’s a prat and we need to get him back!” Fred dramatically exclaims as he flops his body onto the couch in the living room. As usual, it’s we, Y/N is always roped into the twins’ plans, and while she usually doesn’t mind, today isn’t the day for it. Fred never really knows when it’s time to be quiet, always wanting to be on the go and this pops an idea into Y/N’s head.

“Daddy got cows recently,” she begins and she notices how that immediately grabs Fred’s attention. He loves cows, whenever he’s in the car with Y/N and her father he points them out every time they see one, “you sure you don’t want to come to meet them?”

Fred is out the door quicker than you can say pranks, running towards the fence that divides their two properties. Y/N and George have to stop and tell Molly where they’re going because Fred left so hastily, that he didn’t even tell anyone before. After Molly sighs and gives them permission that the twins don't really care if they get, George grabs Y/N’s hand and runs out the door after his brother.

When they finally catch up to him, Fred's face is bright red from exertion, almost matching his hair and his eyes are bright and wide. Y/N’s dad only got two cows at first, testing the waters with how he’d feel looking after them but Fred is in absolute awe.

George pushes him over the fence as he’s laughing, telling him to hurry up so they can get out of the blasting summer sun. George and Y/N slowly make their way back over to the clover patch and Fred stays near the cows. He’s watching them shyly and Y/N thinks this is the only time he’s ever seen him calm and quiet- not wanting to scare the cows.

“This is Ruby,” Y/N says as she places the small, white rabbit on George’s lap. He looks nervous like he’s worried about dropping or squeezing the bunny rabbit too hard but when he settles, the bunny is content sitting in his lap.

“This is Cutiepie, I named him!” Y/N says proudly about the black bunny rabbit in her hands, “he’s my best friend.”

George looks up at Y/N at that and before he can say anything, Y/N is giggling, “Don’t look so worried, Georgie. You’ll always be my number one...” she pauses for a moment, and looks between Fred and the bunny rabbit in her hand before giggling, “just don’t tell Freddie.”

The two of them sit in comfortable silence, admiring the two bunnies as they eventually clamper down their laps and start hopping around. George is mesmerised- the only pets he’s ever had have been the chickens, an owl and the gnomes if you count them and he hopes Y/N will have him over every day to play with the bunnies. And hang out with her of course.

“Why did you want to come to hang out with the bunnies?” Y/N soon questions, curious as to why George chose the calmness over chaos. They both look over at Fred, who’s now bent at the knees looking like he’s going to run at a cow.

“I don’t know,” George shrugs, he didn’t know why he wanted to spend time sitting in one spot instead of pranking his older brother with Fred, “Bunnies are cool, I’ve never met a bunny before.”

Y/N hums in agreement, she thinks bunnies are the coolest pets someone could have and she’s glad George agrees. If George didn’t like bunnies, she thinks she’d have to demote him to number two best friend and while she loves Fred, she doesn’t want to do that.

It’s the day the three of them have been waiting for as long as they can remember. They’re on Platform 9 ¾, trying to get away from their parents and onto the train.

“I’ll miss you so much, sweetie,” her dad says, and Y/N thinks she might cry. She’s never been far away from her dad for long periods of time. The longest she’s ever been away from him was two days and even then, she was just at The Burrow.

But now she’s leaving for school and it’s all the way in Scotland, which to an 11-year-old moving away for magical boarding school, is forever away from her family. Tears well up in her eyes and her dad pulls her into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says pulling away and wiping the tears that have fallen from his daughter’s eyes, “your mother would be proud too. Now remember, stick with Percy and Charlie, Molly told me they’ll look after you.” Bill had graduated earlier in the year, leaving the 2nd and 3rd oldest Weasley brothers to mentor ‘mischief trio’ as they navigated Hogwarts.

“Please make sure the twins don’t get into too much trouble,” Molly says, pulling the small girl into a hug, but she knows it’s useless. Where Fred and George go, Y/N goes too and detention is included.

They eventually make it onto the train, Y/N noticing the tears in her dad’s eyes as he waves to her. They look around for a few moments, trying to find an empty compartment.

They eventually find one with just one boy in it who looks around their age. He’s got dreadlocks in his hair and he already looks bored. When he notices the doors open, he smiles widely and ushers the three of them to come sit with him.

“I’m Lee,” he introduces himself and after the introductions are done they find out he’s also in their year and convinced he’s going to be in Gryffindor.

“Us too!” The twins shout at the same time. Their entire family are in Gryffindor and while the Weasley’s are by no means a strict wizarding family, the twins would feel quite odd if they weren’t sorted into Gryffindor.

Y/N however, did not know what house she’d be sorted into. Her mother had been in Ravenclaw but she didn’t believe she had any of the Ravenclaw attributes. Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t notice George shuffling closer to her and tapping her gently.

“Are you okay?” He asks and Y/N nods her head, contemplating if she should express her worry to George. She knows it’s silly, but now she’s starting to get a bit worked up. Worried that after all these years, her and George will drift apart, especially if they’re in different houses and definitely if she’s in Slytherin. “Just worried. What if… What if we drift apart, Georgie?” she whispers.

George hates to admit he’s had the same worry and the look on Y/N’s face tells George this is the first time she’s even considered this and it’s killing him. He’s grown quite affectionate for Y/N over their six years of friendship. Molly and Y/N’s dad have jokingly asked when’s the wedding numerous times and while they both yell about cooties, George’s face gets the tiniest bit red every single time the joke is mentioned.

“I promise we won’t. Remember what I said the day we became friends? Best friends, and best friends are a forever kind of thing,” he promises, holding out his pinky for Y/N to wrap her own around and they stamp each other’s thumb with their own. Their way of promising each other.

“Remember, if you break the promise, Georgie, your thumb breaks,” she says with full sincerity and George remembers the one time he gave her this exact threat. She had cried for 20 minutes thinking that she’d accidentally made an Unbreakable Vow over getting ice-cream with him at Diagon Alley and poor nine-year-old George was forced into comforting Y/N and apologised profusely.

Fred and Lee are talking animatedly about quidditch (Fred can’t wait to be a beater and while Lee isn’t big on sports, he thinks he’d be a great commentator) when Y/N spots George rifling through his bag.

He pulls out a photograph and smiles as he looks down at it. It’s the last picture they took together before summer ended. Y/N’s dad took it on his muggle camera so it’s not moving, but George doesn’t mind. They’re smiling widely, bigger than they’ve ever smiled before and holding their wands they just got at Diagon Alley. They, of course, are standing in their clover patch, Y/N trying to hold the black bunny rabbit and wand at the same time and her dad clicked the capture button just as Cutiepie tried to jump out of Y/N’s arms.

It makes him laugh every time he looks at it, but seeing the worry still in Y/N’s brow, he thinks she needs the photo more than he does. “Here,” he says, nudging her briefly and handing her the photo. “When you’re worried we’re drifting, look at this and remember you’re stuck with me forever.”

Y/N’s eyes well with tears, this is the sweetest gesture anyone has ever done for her. “Thanks, Georgie. You’re stuck with me as well,” she says, tucking the picture into her robe pocket that rests over her heart.

Summer of ‘92 arrives fast and once again, Y/N spends most of her time at The Burrow causing mayhem. Today, her dad’s at work and while he 100% trusts his daughter to be home alone, he does not trust her best friends, so she waltzes over to The Burrow, walking in like she’s lived there her whole life, kisses Molly hello on the cheek and runs around, trying to find her boys.

It’s scorching, way too hot for summer in Devon and all the Weasley siblings who still live at home have decided to go swimming in the pond. They started playing Marco Polo until Fred started cheating by running outside of the pond so he wouldn’t get caught and then tried to play Chicken fight until Ginny fell off of George’s shoulders and almost hit her head.

Now, everyone’s calmed down and just relaxing. George and Y/N are cuddled up and floating around and it’s making her heart race. In the last year, her feelings for George have developed from platonic to romantic and being this close to him, while not unusual, is making her heart race. But it doesn’t last long, and soon enough Fred splashes them to get their attention.

“I’m tired and I need a nap, I’m going inside,” Fred says, eyeing his best friends. He’s had the assumption that something is going on with them for a while, and while he’d love to meddle, this is George and Y/N and there’s an unspoken rule between the three of them that involves not messing with each other.

So George and Y/N decide to get out of the pond and make their way over to Y/N’s house. They sit themselves down in their clover patch and quickly get the bunnies out. It’s a tradition at this point, and this is their spot. This is the place they tell each other everything, almost everything in Y/N’s case and the place nothing else matters but each other.

Cutiepie and Ruby are getting older now, but they’ve had babies and now there’s plenty of bunnies surrounding the pair of friends. George picks one of the babies up and nurses it, having gotten over his fear of squishing them long ago. He pulls faces at them that cause Y/N to laugh and George loves it.

He loves making her laugh.

“How weird is it that we had You-Know-Who on the back of Quirrell's head, teaching us all year?” George says. They both heard the stories first hand from Harry, Ron and Hermione. The school year they just finished being ridiculous for the three first years, but Y/N can’t help the anxious bubble forming in her throat.

“I’m scared, Georgie,” she says, turning to face him and the fear in her eyes is obvious, “We’re only young but whatever’s happening seems like it’s going to be happening fast now Harry’s at school.” She sniffles, and George thinks he’s put his foot in his mouth. So he does the only thing he knows how to do.

He shuffles closer to Y/N and wraps his arms around her, difficult because of the two bunnies in their laps but he makes it work. “I’m always going to protect you, don’t worry,” he says confidently. He doesn’t know how or when he’d need to protect her, but she must know just how much she means to him.

They sit in silence, just listening to each other breathing and patting the bunnies in their lap. The silence between them is always comfortable, nine years of friendship does that to you. But George is itching to ask something, ask something that could change everything. He’s noticed, recently, that while himself and Fred are at quidditch practice, Y/N and Lee are getting closer.

Sometimes, when Oliver sets quidditch practice on the weekends, Y/N and Lee go to Hogsmeade together and George wonders why he has an icky feeling in his stomach when he hears about their days when that happens.

“Can I ask you something?” George asks and there’s no backing out now. He has no plans to confess, not at age 14 when he doesn’t think he needs a relationship, but he needs to know or he might, as Fred would say dramatically, die. When Y/N hums in agreement and turns to remove herself from his arms, his heart starts beating faster and before he can even stop himself, he’s blurting out the question-

“Are you dating Lee?”

Y/N stares at him in shock, not entirely convinced he hasn’t picked up her feelings for him and then she laughs. She laughs hard. And George is so confused that he starts laughing as well.

“Me and Lee?” She questions between giggles, “There’s no way, he’s like,” she laughs again at the thought of her and Lee dating, “he’s like in love with Angelina. It’s ridiculous.”

George realises how dumb he sounds. Lee’s feelings for Angelina have been so obvious, especially when he decides to comment on how good-looking she is during matches now that he’s the quidditch commentator. But George always thought he was joking and from his perspective, it always seemed like Lee had a small thing for Y/N.

“Lee and I are a no go,” she says when George doesn’t say anything besides his awkward laughter, “I.. I think I like someone else, but I don’t know. I’m 14 for crying out loud,” she laughs, “I don’t know what love is.”

She’s lying, she’s 100% sure love is what she feels with George Weasley. The way she feels with the twins is different. Fred is chaos personified and she knows if she’s ever hurt, Fred will be the first person to go after whoever hurt her, no matter who it is. But George is comforting, like home-cooked meals and Molly’s sweaters personified and she’s sure this is what love is.

George pretends to agree, they’re both as clueless as each other in regards to their feelings. George knows what love is, and it’s what he feels for his best friend who’s sitting with him in their tiny clover patch.

Y/N’s heart is aching. She hasn’t seen the twins in weeks and without seeing George every day, her days are a little bit duller. She understands he’s been busy, after all, opening the most anticipated joke shop in Diagon Alley is bound to take up most of your time, but Y/N misses the days when she could yell for her best friend and he’d come running, no questions asked.

Y/N’s short term boyfriend has just broken up with her and she longs for the comfort she knows the lanky, 18-year-old ginger could give her. They weren’t together long and she knows she should never have tried to date someone while she thinks she’s still in love with George, but it still hurts.

So, she’s sitting in the clover patch as usual. She still lives at home, her father being accommodating while there’s a war raging in the Wizarding World and he understands it’s hard to get a job these days.

She always sits there when she needs the comfort of George and he’s nowhere near. Today is one of those days. Everything is building up and she needs him but she doesn’t want to be a bother. They owl back and forth most days and he’s always talking about how much work he has to do.

She’s been laying in the clover patch, their clover patch, for so long the sun is starting to set and when she sits up she sees him.

George doesn’t miss the red-rimmed eyes and the messy hair that’s covered in grass. He notices the confused look on her face and he picks up a clover and conjures it into a bouquet of wildflowers as he walks over to her.

“Hi, darling,” he says, sitting down and passing her the bouquet. Y/N is trying her hardest to pretend like her heart isn’t swooning but it is, and it’s all George’s fault. “Your dad owled me. Said you needed some George time,” he chuckles quietly and Y/N lets out a groan.

Of course, her dad decided to meddle.

“Hey, don’t stress,” George says as he sees the look of annoyance on her face, “I don’t mind. I told you I’m always here for you, didn’t I?” She hates that he’s right.

“You did,” she starts, “but you’ve been so busy. You don’t deserve to be forced into listening to my boy troubles.” She’s mocking herself now and George lightly pushes her and shakes his head. Anything upsetting Y/N is worth listening too and he’d listen to her drone on about a broken muggle device if it meant she wasn’t bottling her emotions up.

“Sean broke up with me, said I wasn’t in it enough for him, which…” She trails off, debating whether she should continue, “he wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t in it enough for him but it still sucks,” she mutters.

George is well aware she just got out of a relationship and he’s also well aware they’ve been friends, for now, thirteen years and if anything was going to happen between them, it would have happened by now. But he can’t help but feel the slightest bit happy when he hears they’ve broken up.

“Do you want to talk about why?” He enquires trying to be a good friend. Y/N falls flat on her back and sighs as she looks up at the sky above her, “I’ve been in love with the same person since I was 14 and I think I was trying to get over him? Or is that too specific?” she laughs but George knows she isn’t joking.

“Why… Why haven’t you told them?” He asks, hoping to all four founders of Hogwarts that Y/N is talking about him. She looks at him, a glint in her eye and she decides she needs answers. She needs to know if her feelings for George Weasley are ever going to be reciprocated or if she needs to get over him.

“Scared. We’ve been friends for so long…” She hints and she hopes to Godric he gets the hint and doesn’t think she’s talking about Fred, but decides to say more just in case, “He’s tall, funny, ginger, an incredible quidditch player, great with animals…”

“You like Charlie?” He teases to hide the excitement bubbling in his chest and she has to resist the urge to slap him. But she caught the glint of happiness in her eyes and he doesn’t even have to speak for her to know her feelings are reciprocated.

She launches herself into his lap, almost pressing him into a bunny when he falls backwards and she straddles his waist, pressing kisses over his cheeks, “No! I love you, George Fabian Weasley!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he exclaims, swatting her away, “What if I didn’t love you back?” He teases, eyebrows raised and Y/N lets out a cackle of laughter, “I know you, George Weasley, the look in your eye made it obvious you were excited I love you.”

It’s George’s turn to smile like an idiot as he rolls them over and presses his lips to hers, finally. Thirteen years of friendship, four years of loving her and he was not prepared for this kiss to knock the wind out of his lungs. All the love he feels for her is reciprocated and he feels like the happiest man in the entire world.

When they pull apart, George’s eyes are transfixed on hers. The redness disappearing and being replaced by what he can only assume is absolute pure joy. She blushes and turns her head, not being able to handle the attention he’s giving her and when George tries to follow her eyes, his own eye catches something.

He reaches up above her head and plucks something out of the ground before showing it to her. “A four-leaf clover,” he whispers and George can’t help but think it’s fate. The day they became friends he’d found almost a four-leaf clover and the day they became more, he found a real one.

“Your lucky day, boyfriend,” she winks as she pulls him into another kiss, but he stops her and she gives him a pout, “Who said I was your boyfriend?” He teases and the look of fear that flickers across Y/N’s face is reminiscent of the day he threatened her with a broken thumb.

“I- I- Sorry, I assum-” He cuts her off with a kiss, laughing against her lips, “You just didn’t give me a chance to ask you, darling,” he says as he pulls away and Y/N’s face is as red as a tomato in embarrassment and he kisses both her cheeks in reassurance.

“Y/N Y/L/N, would you please be my girlfriend?” he asks, but it’s almost phrased like a statement, like she has no other choice and honestly, Y/N doesn’t mind.

When she pretends to think about it, George waggles his eyebrows and waves the four-leaf clover in her face and she pulls him into a kiss again, hoping that a ‘yes, I’ll be yours for the rest of my days’ is obvious.

#george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george weasley one shot #george weasley x reader

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pandoras-princess · 4 years ago

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Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader)

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovelies! 🌸 Welcome to my first ever Peaky Blinders fic, I wrote it ages ago and have just edited it slightly so my apologies if the quality isn’t greaaat but the other parts will be better I promise! 😅 This is an AU fanfic where John never married Martha or had kids before he married Esme and there is no Grace for Tommy andddd the timeline is absolutely wack, I know it’s a lot so if you’re in the market for a traditional by the book Peaky Blinders fic this one is not for you I’m afraid 🤗 also if you’re finding it a bit slow I advise you to hang in there until after the time skip because that’s the better half of this part in my opinion, nevertheless I seriously enjoyed writing this so Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is forever welcome 😌

Summary: Being the bestfriend of Jonathan Shelby meant that you’d grown up attached at the hip. And considering you were hopelessly in love with him, life was eventful to say the least. With John marrying Esme you decide it’s high time you got over him. And as they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else...

Pairing: (OOC) Thomas Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, smoking and drinking, mentions of addiction, mentions of sex but no smut I’m afraid

PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

Being John Shelby's best friend was definitely not an easy job.

You and John were the exact same age, born on the same day of the same month of the same year, precisely one hour and eleven minutes apart, and since your family only lived one house away from the Shelby's it was a given that you and John would grow up to be best friends.

You were as good as family to them, so when your father was killed in the war and your mother unable to cope turned to the drink and drugs, you were left officially orphaned at age 10 and Polly arranged for you to live with them, raising you as her own.

Growing up with the Shelby's came with it's challenges. They were all fiercely protective of you but no one more so than John. When you were kids he'd beat up anyone that dare made you cry, or sad or angry or anything other than happy really, and as you grew older and began to date he'd scare away anyone deemed not up to scratch, which seemed to be pretty much all of them, threatening violence known around Small Heath as common behaviour for the Peaky Blinders. This meant that you never really had a boyfriend, or many boys interested in you at all for that matter, and any who were rarely had the balls to act on it for fear of the Peaky Blinders wrath. However this didn't bother you much as there was only ever one boy you truly wanted interested in you, the one boy who never would be interested in you.

Of course being a teenage girl you'd had your silly crushes, Tommy being one of them. But they all paled in comparison to what you felt for John.

Being best friends meant that the two of you spent practically all of your time together, did everything together, went through and dealt with everything together. He had always been your shoulder to cry on, your ear to bend, your hugs and smiles and laughs, your safe place. It was inevitable that you'd fall for him. And fall for him you did, painfully obvious to everyone except John himself.

Shortly after your 16th birthday, you were reading a book by the fire, a woven blanket strewn across your legs and a steaming mug of hot chocolate warming your hands when John bursts into the house loud, drunk and jolly. He often snuck out to join his brothers in their shenanigans - whether it be business or pleasure - and you were all too happy to listen to his stories when he came home.

You watched John intently as he regaled to you his latest night out. You watched the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly as he spoke, a smug smile tracing his lips every so often. His eyes glistened from the whiskey and his lips were wet. A cigarette clasped lazily between his fingers, his eyes closed for a split second whenever he took a drag. Deep in admiration of the boy sitting in front of you, you didn't quite notice the change of events in the story.

"-and then she walked right up to me and kissed me!"

It was at that point that your attention snapped back, ears pricking up and heart racing as you go over what he'd just said. But too excited to wait, John didn't give you the chance to work out if you had misheard him.

"Well before I know it she's got me in the back alley dress hiked up going at me like a feral she was. Can ya believe it after all this time I'm finally a man aha!" John exclaims, a goofy, ear-splitting grin plastered on his face.

He spares any explicit details, knowing it was no way to talk with a lady no matter how close they are to you or how drunk you may happen to be. Nevertheless, upon hearing those final words coupled with the look of pure elation on his face, your heart shatters into millions of ice cold shards right before your eyes. The pain that was rapidly building in your chest and the image of John with some tart, skirt bunched around her waist fucking like dogs in the alley was too much for you to bear. A wave of nausea washes over you and you stand abruptly, dashing to the loo before the contents of your stomach emptied onto the carpet.

A few minutes later you hear faint knocks on the door.

“Ye alright in there love?” John asks, concern lacing his words.

“All good” you reply quickly, willing your voice to steady itself.

Wiping the sheen of sweat from your forehead you collapse into a heap against the wall, and a sigh escapes your lips as you wrack your brain for the exact moment you had lost him. While John had never shown any signs of liking you, you were always able to draw hope from the relationship you two had, no matter how blind it may have been. Now though, he had dashed that hope, blind or otherwise, as he had given himself to someone else. He had openly chosen not to be with you.

Not to be yours.

Fobbing John off with some excuse about a dodgy dinner you quickly retreat to bed, going without giving him a hug, unable to bring yourself to touch him. And from that day onwards you lived with the knowledge that your love was unrequited. You lived with loving him, and him not loving you.

For the most part it was rather easy. John wasn't the kind for serious relationships - preferring causal sex to the committed kind - so you never really had to deal with any girlfriends or the lark, just the occasional tart interested in him on the rare nights out you tagged along. Even then, you soon learned not to go on any nights out without Ava or Polly present and so the issue of John and his women quickly became dormant. That was, however, until John agreed to marry Esme Lee.

Tommy came to you before asking John, asking for your help in convincing him. He knew John would come to you with it asking for advice before deciding. Tommy explained his plan, marry John off to the Lee girl forcing them to squash the war and join forces to overthrow Billy Kimber. It was simple enough and since you'd already accepted there was never to be a you and John, you agreed.

The time came and sure enough John came to you, confused and somewhat annoyed at Tommy's rough handed approach, and sure enough you stayed true to your word, telling him it was nothing new, people had arranged marriages all the time.

So on he went to marry her, your true feelings unknown to the man.

[2 years later]

"You shouldn't be working here you know. John certainly wouldn't like it" Tommy said, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched you carefully wipe down the bar surface. He was referring to your new job as barmaid in the Garrison and having just finished your first shift you were cleaning up. Last orders had been and gone and every punter had now left the pub, drunk and merry on their ways.

After John married Esme you spent the next two years much to yourself. You embraced the spinster lifestyle and faded away into the passing days. However it was the turn of a new year and to everyone's joy you'd come to your senses, deciding it was high time you stopped wasting your life moping after John. He didn't love you - that much was clear - but somebody out there must and so it was time for you to move on, you thought. Reinvent yourself. This 'new you' started with marching into Tommy's office and demanding the new barmaid job. Surprisingly he offered no resistance, merely a quizzical look at your sudden determination before giving you the job. So here you were, your first shift done and nobody left in the place but you and your new boss.

"Well it might surprise you to know, Mr Shelby, but I don't abide my decisions by what John would or would not like me doing" you reply. Finishing up you leave the cloth on the bar and make your way over to the table, taking the chair adjacent to his.

"Is that so?" He asks, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours as he offers you a cigarette. You accept, bending down slightly to the offered flame and without breaking eye contact, you light the cigarette and take a drag, exhaling as you sit back up.

"Yes, Thomas, that is so" you reply, the use of his name making clear your exasperation with the questioning.

"Very well then, a toast-" he picks up the bottle of whiskey and pours some into each glass, placing one in front of you and taking one himself "-to your new job, and to your new found freedom" he says, locking eyes with you on his last words and clinking your glass before you both down it. If growing up with the Shelby's had taught you one thing it was how to hold your liquor.

Soon you and Tommy were halfway through the bottle and quite drunk, too caught up in the fun to notice. It was now something past 3 in the morning; you and Tommy had been talking, drinking and laughing for nigh on 3 hours now, going through old stories of your childhoods, stories from before you were born and from afterwards, stories of your parents and stories of his.

"So tell me, what is the meaning behind this sudden change in you then?" Tommy inquired, only too happy to see your old self back again.

Before you knew it the whiskey had gotten the better of you and you found yourself telling him the reason. You told him about John, about your love for him, about that night and about how you'd come to terms with it and decided to move on.

"Besides, it's not like he was the first boy I ever liked, so I'm quite sure he won't be the last" you state matter of factly, unaware of the storm you had just brewed.

See, unbeknown to you, Tommy was fully aware of everything you had just poured out to him. He knew about your love for John. He knew the deepest parts of your heart, your mind, your soul. Every crush and fling you'd ever experienced Tommy knew all about it, thanks to a little book you liked to keep hidden under your mattress. You had been detailing all matters of yourself in that little black journal for as long as you could write. Polly happily replacing it when you found your current one full, it was much easier than finding a shoulder to cry on every time you needed one. When Tommy came across it he had no idea what it was, merely out of curiosity did he open it and start reading.

"Oh, who was?" Tommy asked, lighting another cigarette. Following suit you decide to take a minute to weigh up your options, drinking in the smoke as you did.

"You” your voice remains deceptively steady, not wanting the man watching you so closely, so attentively, to become aware of the raging swarm of butterflies occupying your stomach.

"Is that so?" Tommy pulls on his own cigarette, the smoke rising from his lips as his eyes lock onto yours. "So what changed then?" His eyebrow arches perfectly, a smirk gracing his lips.

"You're 4 years older than me! There was no way you'd ever look at me as anything other than an annoying little sister!” You say in a chuckle, the fiery whiskey encompassing all of your thoughts in a humorous glow.

"And if I told you I do look at you as something other than an annoying little sister?" His eyes flick to your lips for a millisecond before returning to your own (E/C) orbs. If you’d have blinked you would’ve missed it, but your full attention being fixed on the man before you meant that you hadn’t.

"Well... that would certainly change things." The possibility of one of your fantasy's coming true ignited you to your very core.

Silently, Tom rises from his seat and offers his hand to you. You take it, and he leads you to his office with the worst of intentions in mind.

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quickparkers · 4 years ago

Text

2 words

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Everybody has a soulmate. You’ve been searching for yours for your whole life and when you thought you had finally met him, it wasn’t him at the end. But then Wanda took you to Westview and well, life is full of surprises.

Warnings: death, fluff (kinda?)

Word count: 3242

A/N: hii, i haven’t written anything in like year and a half, so i’d appreciate anyone’s feedback!<3

Everybody is born with two words written into their skin on their wrist. The two words are the name of your soulmate, the one who is your everything, your support, your other half. You’ve always wondered when you were finally going to meet the person with the name that has been written on your skin in black ink since you could remember. You were meant to meet them, but you still haven’t. Most of your friends and family had met their soulmates, but you were unlucky. You had given up after all this time, if you were destined to meet them as everybody told you since you were little, you were going to find your way to each other, somehow.

Although, there was that one time you’ve thought you’ve finally met your soulmate, but you only thought.

The Avengers met you during some mission, trying to help you only to find out to you can save yourself on your own.

The one and only Tony Stark was on his way to save you from Hydra agents that took you as a prisoner, but when he saw you defeating 5 guys twice your size, using your powers, he was left speechless. Using electricity and the ability to phase, you knocked all of them down to the floor in a matter of seconds. You looked around, noticing Iron Man standing there, you weren’t really sure what to do, so you started running away immediately.

"Listen, kid, stop running and hear me out. I’ve got an offer for you." at that moment, you stopped and decided to hear him out.

A few days later, you were brought to the Avengers HQ as a new member to be. You were introduced to everyone and everything was going smoothly, but then a young girl and a boy around your age came in. "Yeah and these two are the Maximoff twins, you will get to know them later. Now come with me, we need to do some power tests, Bruce is already waiting in the lab." Tony said, leading you to the labs. But you were completely going crazy. Maximoff was the surname of your soulmate. Was it him? It had to be, this couldn’t be a coincidence.

After the tests, Tony let you go and you did not hesitate to go and meet the boy with white-ish hair. He was in the kitchen, getting himself something, you didn’t really pay attention to that.

"Uh, hey,"

He turned to look at you and smiled a little. It had to be him. "Hi, you’re the new one right?" he asked, the sokovian accent standing out. You nodded.

"What’s your name?" this was the moment when you were going to find out if it’s him. But it was him, right?

"Pietro Maximoff, your princessa?" he smirked a little, his confident nature coming out. It was him, you’ve finally found him! You rolled up your sleeve to look at the name on your wrist and read it. The few letters said 'Peter Maximoff'. Wait this had to be some kind of mistake, right? You looked at him and then back at your wrist. He was Pietro, not Peter.

"No, no, no, no!" you whispered, scaring Pietro a little when electricity started coming out of your fingers. "It has to be you! This makes no sense-"

"What? What are you talking about?" he asked, staring at you. You showed him your wrist and he read the name and realized what was happening. He showed you his wrist, asking "Is your name Crystalia Amaquelin by any chance?" you re-read the name on his and your wrist many times, realizing it wasn’t him.

"I’d love to say it is, but I’m Y/n." you shook your head, tears still running down your cheeks.

He wiped those few tears away, a comforting smile forming on his lips. "Hey, I haven’t met her yet either, but we just have to give it vremya, I mean time, y’know." he comforted you. You nodded, smiling at him a little.

Afer this moment, you and Pietro became really close. You both promised each other that you were going to help find your soulmates. But he broke the promise. When you saw him lying on the ground, crimson red staining his suit, you felt like a part of you died too. Maybe he was your soulmate in some way after all.

After his death, you and his twin Wanda became like sisters. You helped each other in everything. It was kind of ironic, losing him helped you find someone else, but you wished you had both of them.

You were there for Wanda any time, as she was there for you. When you watched her find her own soulmate and fall in love with him, you couldn’t be happier for her, but when you saw her losing him, it was the worst thing you’ve ever experienced. It felt like you lost your own soulmate.

When she came to you one day, saying she wanted to start her life with Vision in Westview, you thought she was crazy. But after she explained everything to you, she convinced you to come with her. After the final battle, she was the only person you had left. There was no other option than to follow her into Westview.

———

Your life in Westview has been great so far. You didn’t really remember how exactly you got there, but you didn’t care. You were happy, kinda. You lived in the same street as the Wandavision family, had a decent job at the electricity supplier of Westview (how shocking right) and everything has been going well for you.

There were no big bad guys that wanted to kill you and almost no crime. Westview was only about the town drama, community events, and things like that. It was peaceful.

But you were still missing that one thing, that one someone. 'We just have to give it vremya' echoed through your head as you thought. You will meet him someday. You knew it.

You were currently on your way to Wanda’s house for the needed best friend chit-chat time, bringing brownies for the boys as you promised them the last time you were there.

Even though you lived close to them, you still made a shortcut, phasing through fences as you made your way to their house. Hopefully, nobody had seen you.

You rang the bell, hearing Wanda and the twins in instant.

"That’s aunt Y/n/n! I’m going to get it!" you heard Billy.

"No, I am!" you heard Tommy.

You chuckled to yourself, waiting. After a few seconds, the door swung open, revealing the twins who were too eager to see you.

"There are my favorite twins!" you smiled at them and they hugged you, fighting who was going to hug you more in between.

"Enough boys, let Y/n breathe," Wanda laughed as she walked over to you as well. The boys let go of you and you and Wanda gave each other a quick hug as well.

"We need to catch up on all the drama that has been going on, honey." she expressed dramatically, making you and herself giggle.

She closed the door after you and both of you went to the kitchen. "Oh and here are the brownies for the boys, I added extra chocolate chips on the-"

Wanda put her finger on your mouth to shush you up, "Shhh, they can’t hear about the brownies no-" she was interrupted as well, but by the boys, as they ran to the kitchen.

"Brownies!" they both shouted happily. Wanda sighed, letting both of them get a piece. You laughed, not caring, you were the fun kind of aunt for them.

"Mom?" asked Billy, as he munched on the brownie. Wanda looked down at him, raising her eyebrows.

"Hm?"

"Since uncle P. is here now, does it mean that he and aunt Y/n/n are together?" Tommy asked, catching you off guard. 'Uncle P.? Who is that?' you wondered.

Wanda gasped at the question, her eyes widening, but you saw something else in her eyes. "Oh boys, you know that these questions are inappropriate.."

You didn’t really pay attention to the conversation that was going on between the mother and her sons when you heard steps coming from the floor above. You looked at the stairs, your heart beating rapidly. You felt nervous, anxiety washing over you. You had no idea what was going on.

You walked closer to the stairs, staring blankly at them, waiting for whoever was going to come down. At that moment, you only saw silver lines on the stairs and felt wind all of sudden. 'Was that Pietro?'

"Did I hear someone say my name?" you heard someone say from behind, a laugh of the boys following. You slowly turned around to see a man with silver, kinda white-ish hair, ruffling the twins’ hair.

"We were just talking about you and aunt Y/n/n," Tommy explained to the man, as he and Billy smirked at him. You were just standing there, looking at him and the twins, back and forth. The man finally looked up and saw you there, staring at him. At that moment he speeded away but was back in a second. It looked like he ran off to get changed..?

"You didn’t tell me a cute girl was coming over, Wanda," he whispered to his sister, or at least tried to whisper since you still heard him, glaring at her. She laughed at him, rolling her eyes. Then suddenly, the man was standing in front of you. You were just staring at him, not knowing what to say.

"Hi, sorry for my behavior, my name is Peter-"

"Maximoff" you finished his sentence. Peter tilted his head, visible confusion in his face.

"Mom why are they being so weir-" you heard Tommy saying before Wanda shushed him up and left the room with both of the twins, knowing exactly what was going on.

"Wait, Y/n/n is short for Y/n, am I right?" he asked, realizing who you were, his eyes wide. "Y/n Y/l/n?" You nodded your head. You looked straight into his eyes for the first time. They were deep, dark shade of brown and felt warm for some reason.

Both of you just stood there, looking at each other, studying each other. He stepped closer to you, brushing your hand with his. As you felt his touch for the first time, electricity from your body found its way to give him a little shock. He flinched away, a little "ow" coming from him.

At that moment you came back to your senses and looked around you, then looked at him. "I have to go," you mumbled, turned around, and left the house as quickly as you could.

Peter wanted to run after you, knowing it wouldn’t be a problem for him, but he knew he had to give you time. Maybe not much since he was an impatient person, but a little at least.

You rushed home while thinking about what had just happened. It was him. It really was him. You could’ve talked to him, asked him so many questions, but instead, you just left without even saying sorry for shocking him with electricity. This wasn’t going well. You were supposed to meet your soulmate.. differently.

When you came home, you just sat down on your bed and replayed the whole scene in your head over and over again. You remembered the way he looked at you, it was almost the only thing you could remember.

You’ve met your soulmate, you’ve finally met him. Was he disappointed? Did you scare him? You had so many questions but no answers.

———

It had been almost two weeks since you had been to Wanda’s house since you had finally met him. You tried to avoid their whole family the whole time, only going to work and back home immediately. You missed going to Wanda’s house and hanging out there, but you knew he would be there.

It was around 7 pm when the phone in your living room rang. You were just washing dishes, so you quickly dried your hands with a towel and then picked up the phone.

"Hello?" you answered the phone.

"Hi! Do you have any plans tonight?" it was Wanda, you knew her voice too well to not recognize her.

"No really, do you need anything?"

"Uh, yes, you know we have planned a date with Vision and we’re looking forward to it, but the babysitter for the boys canceled at the last minute. Could you please come over and watch the boys for me?" she asked, tone of hope in her voice that you would say yes.

"Uh-"

"Peter is not here, Y/n/n. Don’t worry," she reassured you, knowing you didn’t want to see him.

"Okay then, I’ll be there in 20." you agreed, hearing Wanda telling Vision they could go.

"Alrighty, see you then!" and she hung up.

You finished cleaning the dishes, changed your clothes to something more presentable since you had your pajamas on.

As always, you used a shortcut through your neighbors' fences and walls, so you were at Wanda’s in a few minutes.

Waiting in front of the door for someone to let you in, you could hear Wanda and Vision both running around, getting ready. But you didn’t hear either of the boys.

The door swung open, revealing Wanda in a stunning dress and Vision standing next to her in a suit. "Oh hi honey, thanks for coming! We’ll be back in 3 hours or so," Wanda said and hugged you quickly.

"Yes, thank you, Y/n." Vision smiled.

You went in, looking for the boys, but they were nowhere to be seen. "Wait Wanda, where are the twins-"

"Oh they are at a sleepover, but you can babysit my stupid brother actually! Goodbye!" she grinned and closed the door with her powers as she walked away with her husband.

At that moment, Peter ran into the living room, not knowing you were there. Once again, he was only in his pyjamas. "Hey Wan-" he turned and saw you. He looked down at his clothes and sighed. "God, not again!" he speeded away, but was back in a matter of seconds, this time in jeans and a hoodie.

"Hi" he smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I’m just gonna go- I was supposed to babysit the boys but since they ar-" you explained to him as you tried to walk to the door, but you were cut off when he suddenly appeared in front of you, not letting you get to the door. "Don’t," he whispered, looking down at you with those brown eyes. "Please."

"Okay," you muttered. A smile appeared on his face when you agreed. He gestured for you to sit down on the couch with him. You both sat down not too close to each other, he remembered how he made you nervous the last time you had seen each other.

You sat in silence for some time, neither of you not knowing what to say. You were looking at the turned-off tv, while he was shifting in his seat the whole time.

"Can I see your wrist?" he asked all of sudden. You glanced at him and then at your wrist. You nodded your head and he scooted closer to you, but still kept his distance.

You rolled up your sleeve and so did he. You showed him the words on your wrist and he placed his wrist next to yours. You read the words that were written on his skin, it really was your name.

Peter couldn’t help himself and brushed his fingers again the words that were saying his name on your wrist. He wanted to make sure it’s real, that they wouldn’t just smudge as if they were written with a fix. They were real. He felt electricity coming from you again as his skin touched yours, but it was different this time. He looked at you, smiling. This time, you returned the smile, making his heart skip a beat. He blushed slightly and looked away.

After a few seconds, it was him again who spoke up first. "So, I have a few questions," he leaned against the couch. You shrugged your shoulders and repeated what he did, sitting a little bit closer this time.

You’ve spent like two hours talking with Peter about everything. It was as you imagined, you’ve laughed together, shared your stories with each other and it all felt right.

You both were laughing at a story about how he once pranked his whole neighborhood by stealing everyone’s toilet paper when he was younger. "You didn’t" you laughed, your belly hurting.

"Oh yes I did, it was hilarious, but my mom wanted to kill me.." he said, making you laugh even more.

Peter felt intoxicated with your laugh, realizing that making you happy was everything he ever wanted to do. You really were his soulmate.

You lay your head on his shoulder, the laughter washing off now. Peter glanced at you, hesitating to ask the question he wanted to say out loud the whole evening. "Were you disappointed when you first met me?"

You sat up straight, raising your brows at him. "What?"

"I mean, you didn’t want to see me again... if Wanda hadn’t planned this, we wouldn’t be here right now."

"I wasn’t disappointed, and I’m not. Peter, you come off like a really confident person, and the way it just happened, I got scared. I’m sorry if I made you feel like this." you reached for his hand, intertwining it with yours.

He looked down at your hands, this time not feeling any electricity coming from you at all. "Oh, I have one last question.. for tonight." you nodded your head, gesturing for him to continue. "What exactly are your powers?" he asked, rather excited.

"Well," you squeezed his hand, giving him a little electric shock. He gasped since he didn’t see that coming. "I can basically create electricity, manipulate it, and also can phase through things," you said proudly since you felt confident when it came to your powers.

"That’s so cool, you’re so cool," he said, smiling at you in awe. You looked away from him, shyness taking over you. And Peter noticed it. Coming back to his confident and cocky self, he scooted closer to get you to look at him. "I kind of wanna know how would it feel to kiss you now.." he flirted, knowing it would make you even more flustered.

You leaned in a little, glancing at his lips. "Then I should probably show you huh?" you said, licking your lips. "But not tonight." you got up from the couch and winked at him, now it was him who was all flustered. You walked to the door and before you could say goodbye, he appeared in front of you, pecked your lips, and in less than a second he was sitting on the couch as he did before.

Your eyes widened as you saw him sitting on the couch, the smirk back on his lips. "I know you basically for like 3 hours and you are already a pain in the ass, Maximoff," you shook your head, chuckling.

"That’s your problem since I’m your soulmate. You can't get rid of me now." he said, his charming smirk not leaving his face.

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