#I walk her while my sister and her housemate are at work

[ficsandgiggles]

A New Beginning

Chapter One: The First Meeting

You finally get into the place you’ll call home for a while, meeting your new housemates and getting settled.

Word count: 1277

Warnings: None

You had asked Yelena multiple times before even getting into her car that she was willing to allow you to live with her. Your colleague was fond and gave you a few side squeezes before playfully telling you to just get in the car.

The two of you complained about work a little throughout the journey until suddenly you went quiet, the anxiety had begun to take over you and you were worried about meeting two Avengers.

“Hey, I promise you, Natasha and Wanda are really nice, you will feel at home in no time, we can share clothing until then and we can also go shopping,” Yelena reassured you, giving your knee a comforting squeeze, knowing that it would both ground you and tickle you. She smirked as she watched you kick out, biting back a smile.

Eventually, you pulled up outside of their house, Yelena looked over at you with a gentle smile. “Are you ready?” She asked you, and you nodded, clearly anxious and wanting to just get the initial meeting over and done with.

You jumped out of the car and followed Yelena to the front door, playing with your fingers nervously as she opened the door.

“We’re home!” She called out, linking arms with you as Wanda was the first to appear.

“Where?” She asked with a raised eyebrow before looking down at you. “Oh hello there, who’s this?” She asked Yelena as you took a step back behind Yelena, who chuckled and put her hand on your shoulders gently and moved you in front of her.

“This is the lovely Y/N, they’re going through a difficult time right now, and I was not going to let them be homeless, so I’ve decided that they can stay with us until they get back on their feet,” Yelena explained, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as you leaned into the feeling.

“Aw, well then welcome!” Wanda beamed, smiling at you as she came closer and offered you a hug. You bit your lip, looking up at Yelena who offered a reassuring nod.

“She will not bite, I promise, she is actually the sweetest person when she is not doing the magic thing,” Yelena told you, giving you a gentle push in Wanda’s direction.

Hesitantly, you put your arms around the Scarlet Witch, who gave you a gentle yet tight hug, you could feel her hands warm up, maybe due to her magic as she rubbed your back. You couldn’t help but relax into the feeling, whilst in disbelief that this was actually happening.

“See? She is very kind, not as scary as she makes herself out to be.” Yelena told you, winking at Wanda as she playfully flipped the blonde off.

“Since when did we start taking people off the street?” You heard another voice say, you turned your head to see an intimidating woman raise her eyebrows at you, before looking at Yelena, waiting for an explanation.

The young Widow glared at her sister. “My colleague was going to be without a home after their shift. I was not going to let that happen. They are staying with us until they can get back on their feet.” Yelena told her firmly. “This is Y/N, and they are very kind so you will also be kind back.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, scoffing a little. “Whatever, just keep them out of my way.” She murmured before walking away. You bit your lip, already feeling like a burden as Wanda already went into protective sister mode and gave you an extra squeeze.

“Don’t worry about her, she was also cold with me for a bit so I understand how it feels, but she will come around, I promise.” The witch told you gently before pulling away. You looked at Yelena too, who nodded and just rolled her eyes.

“She can be a butt sometimes, very stubborn, but also a softie.” She chuckled, poking your side reassuringly, making you flinch and bite your lip.

“Wanda, if you wish to see Y/N’s cute smile, they are incredibly ticklish, and I think they like it too,” Yelena smirked, as you flushed and whined a little, surprised that she already was willing to expose you like that.

“Aw, that’s so cute!” Wanda smiled and wiggled her fingers playfully at you before testing the waters for herself and fluttering into your sides, making you squeal and cover your mouth, letting out a few giggles whilst blushing madly.

“You’re right Yelena, they are sensitive!” She teased fondly before letting you go, not wanting to push it too far. You just smiled shyly at what had just happened, already beginning to feel comfortable with Wanda.

“It’s good to see the two of you bond already. However, I must steal Y/N and show them around.” Yelena said as Wanda nodded in understanding.

“It’s good to meet you, Y/N, and welcome.” Wanda smiled gently before going to her room.

Yelena took your hand and showed you around the house, rolling her eyes as you both went into the kitchen to see Nat completely ignore you. Eventually, you ended up in Yelena’s room, where she offered you some cosy clothes for you to change into since you were still in your work clothes.

“I-I hope you’re comfortable with this but, we do not have a spare room so you will have to share with me. We can either sleep in this bed, platonically, or I believe we have a bed for doing the camping you can rest on.” She offered. The thought of you sharing a bed was enough to fluster you, you craved that physical closeness, maybe with her specifically, but you couldn’t tell just yet.

“Uh, I would be more comfortable in the bed, if you don’t mind…” you asked hesitantly, unsure about how she was going to take your response.

However, the blonde smiled and nodded. “Of course, I have a big bed for us.” She replied, making you internally beam. Although you weren’t the best at body language, you seemed to think she was keen to share a bed with you too.

You went into the bathroom to get changed into the comfy clothes that Yelena gave you, before going back to the bedroom. “Do you think I could have a quick nap?” You asked Yelena quietly, biting your lip as you stifled a yawn.

“Of course! A nap also sounds good to me.” She replied. “I will be right back.” She told you, grabbing her comfy clothes and going to get changed.

You hopped into bed, getting yourself comfortable, unable to believe that this was happening. Suddenly, you felt your side being squeezed, you looked behind you to see Yelena with raised eyebrows.

“You are on my side.” She smirked, squeezing and shaking into your ribs until you rolled over. By now, she had probably figured that you liked this so did so to give you the physical comfort you craved.

You rolled your eyes, getting comfy once again. “Thank you… for all of this…” you murmured out, the sleepiness taking over you as you closed your eyes.

“Hey, you are good friend, I want to help and comfort you.” She said gently. “I do think a short sleep is good for the both of us right now. So we can hang out later.” She reassured you with a smile.

You nodded, yawning, thinking for a moment about how lovely it would be if the two of you were holding each other right now, but you didn’t push it as you quickly felt yourself drift off to sleep.

Little did you know, Yelena was thinking the exact same thing.

Next chapter:

[fancyfeathers]

Part two to the Black Butler AU for my Father Like Daughter series that was for @here4thesarcasm ask

When Ciel is hitting a dead end in finding Derick and the prefects are starting to get suspicious of him, he finally reaches out to Eloise to accept her offer for help. But when he does, it is the start of the cricket tournament which means people are visiting the college. They are sitting under the gazebo, Eloise is almost invited every day to join the perfects due to her intelligence personality and she can be rather charming when she wants to be, and all the Moriarties are present when Ciel asks her if he and her can take a walk since it is such a lovely day out-

“Eloise and Madeline, you two just look wonderful in your uniforms.”

The everyone watches as Moriarty children fall horribly silent, Hyacinth just staring down at the sketchbook in her lap, the hand that Andrei is holding his teacup in is trembling horribly, Madeline’s eyes shot up instantly to look who called her name and her scarlet eyes wide with shock, Marguerite is glancing between the guests who have met their presence known and the ground just below her feet, and then there is Eloise who looks as if she just saw a ghost.

“F-father, Uncle Albert, w-what a surprise to see you here.”

Madeline was the first to speak up, forcing a smile at the guests and it becomes clear to Ciel that it is just an act and all the children have been horribly startled.

“It shouldn’t be, after all Andrei will be playing in the torment, but we thought we would pay a visit a bit earlier than the opening festivities so we would have a chance to visit you all.”

“Yes, your housemaster was the one who let us on campus early, Eloise.”

“O-oh I see…”

Throughout the day, the Moriarty children are with their parents, Andrei, Hyacinth, and Marguerite being seen with their father, Albert, and his darling wife walking the paths on campus, smelling the scent of the flowers. Meanwhile Madeline and Eloise are off with their father and rather shyer looking mother, having tea off of campus in a nearby tea house.

Then at the opening festivities it is the first time the girls are out of uniform in a beautiful dresses that are the work of Hyacinth, but they all are dreadfully quiet, especially Eloise as if something is tinging in the back of her mind. If Ciel were go to speak to her it would be quickly intercepted by her father.

“Oh you must be one of Eloise’s housemates, I do apologize that we have to take her from you so soon.”

“Hm, what ever do you mean?”

“Soon after the tournament she will returning back to our home in Durham and resume her private lessons there along with her sister and cousins.”

That is the final straw and Ciel gives Sebastian the order to look into the Moriarty family, but their tracks are amazingly covered, to follow any tracks is a near dead end.

The cricket tournament comes and goes, Andrei plays but ends up injuring his left wrist so he has to drop out of the game early. Then during the break during the game against Green House when Ciel is returning from the washroom, he is suddenly pinned against the wall behind the stands by none other than Eloise Moriarty.

“You little bastard, you are cheating!”

“Why do you care, we are in the same house?!”

“Because it is wrong-“

“Miss Moriarty, what are you doing?!”

Luckily Sebastian comes just in time to separate the two and the commotion is enough to catch the attention of William who rushes in to pull his daughter aside. William apologizes for his daughter’s behavior and since she is leaving after the cricket tournament she gets off from punishment at school. She is taken back to sit with her family while Ciel and Sebastian watch the seemingly perfect family from afar, the picture of an ideal noble family, but something just feels wrong with them.

After the procession of boats and Ciel returns to the dorm to see much of Eloise’s belongings being packed up and brought downstairs. Then for some odd reason he feels the need to check on her after he finds to invitation to the Midnight Tea Party on his bed, but when he peeks into her room, he sees her sitting on her bed with the same invitation in hand. Why would she receive one, her cousins, sister, and herself have won favor with the prefects but they had no connections otherwise besides Andrei who here would be Edgar Redmond’s durge, who was this family?

The time for the midnight tea party comes and it is a surprise when Ciel sees the other Moriarty children in attendance, all slightly confused why they were invited besides Andrei. So when they all take their places at the table and Ciel confronts the headmaster who is revealed to be the Undertaker, everyone is horrified, especially when Derick appears. Hyacinth is wide eyed and horrified, Madeline and Marguerite have pushed a few people behind them in the case of a fight, and Eloise is just calm for the most part that is, besides her holding onto Andrei’s sleeve.

But the only thing that does not supersede the cousins is when the prefects explain what happened and what they did, if anything it all clicks in place for them and Eloise looks a mixture of anger and horrified.

“So that is why we were invited… to see what our reaction would be to that, isn’t it?”

No one elaborates to that question but their is a silence that confirms her suspicion. Then when the conflict reaches its boiling point, Hyacinth is carried out of the garden by Edward due to her wheelchair who has grown quite attached to each other, they may or may not be courting, Madeline, Andrei, and Marguerite help people get out, but Eloise is just staring, staring at the Undertaker, staring at Sebastian, staring at the bizarre dolls, and staring at Ciel. Then by the end of it she has such a complex look on her face.

“Eloise you should leave-“

“I believe in the sciences and logic, none of this makes sense! Things like this should not make sense! This should not be happening!”

Eloise is absolutely traumatized, every thing she knows and believes in comes into question, demons, reapers, undead. Eloise just breaks down, shaking and crying, Ciel order Sebastian to take Eloise back to her dormitory and she doesn’t even fight it when the demon leads her back to her room.

The next day when Ciel is leaving, he sees the cousins, their bags being packed up, and he just sees a distant look in Eloise’s eyes as her father helped her and her sister into the carriage. Honestly a part of him pities her, so smart but unable to process what she doesn’t want to understand. He does manage to exchange a few words with Andrei and Hyacinth, Andrei had managed to calm down from the situation while Hyacinth was still in a bit of shock and Ciel also recalls Edward slipping her an address when he was saying goodbye, he definitely thinks those two are courting now. Andrei tells Ciel that none of them would be telling their fathers or mothers about what happened the night prior, and also to keep what the prefects did a secret by any means necessary, when Ciel asks if that is connected to what Eloise said about why they were invited-

“Andrei, Hyacinth, time to go, we have a train to catch.”

Albert interrupt the conversation and the two have to say goodbye to the young Earl Phantomhive. Ciel just shakes his head as the carriage pulls off and hopes he never sees the Moriarty family again due the headache they all are…

That is until he receives a notice for a meeting with the leader of a branch of the British Military Intelligence that operates in the public eye as the Universal Trading Company. The last thing Ciel Phantomhive expected to see when he came to the estate of the leader of the organization, who Ciel learned by the code name “M”, was to hear the voice of five familiar Moriarty cousins…

Who exactly was this family?

[multigenderswag]

A Bisexual Bigendered Performance Piece

By Nadyalec

Trikone Magazine Vol. 14, No. 3: Gender Mischief (1999)

I am my father's son.

My father's father died when he was a baby. And his favorite sister, Nadya, died a few years later. He told me that at her funeral he lay on the floor and told everybody he was dead, too. But the adults just kept stepping around him. I keep thinking of him lying there on the floor looking up at the long legs of adults walking around him. He doesn't believe in God, has told me that he wishes he could, but faith has been missing in him since childhood.

He was sent off to boarding school, where he says the other boys were very tough. But they left him alone because his teachers respected his intelligence, and he learned to seem calm no matter how he was feeling.

His intelligence and his reserve kept him safe, and he learned never to show loneliness or weakness.

As a young man he came to this country to go to get his PH.D. in Economics in Texas. He was an ardent socialist, and he used to tell me stories about how members of his socialist group would be exiled for disagreements over a single word or a single point. It reminds me of my time in lesbian activism.

Because his English wasn't good yet, he says that sometimes he went throughbooks looking for sentences to cut out to put together papers. I think about that when￾ever I put together a zine.

I am my father's son. I have his reserve, his intelligence, his quickness in reading others' emotions. I have his respect and belief in words and ideas. But I am also vulnerable in the way that he could never afford to be. When I'm a boy, I'm a very delicate one.

I am my mother's daughter.

This weekend my mom helped me move again. She, my new housemate, my brother and I flung around furniture, roped my mattress, to the car, and basically built up some muscle strength. My mom's helped me with every move over the last couple years, and there've been lots of them. Not bad for a woman past 50.

Since I was a kid my mom has done all the heavy lifting at my parents' house, mowing the lawn and clipping the hedges while my dad was inside reading a book. I remember her grunts meant to rebuke him whenever she did something especially hard-this was the work that the men in her family had always done. But if my dad wouldn't do it, then she would, definitely, no matter how much it hurt. She had her uterus removed a couple of years ago. I never really got the whole story since I was away at college. Apparently her uterus collapsed years ago, from all the heavy lifting she does, and she just ignored the pain for years. I'm not sure what made her finally listen to the doctors and have it out.

I inherited that too. I hurt myself a lot, walk into doors, lift things I shouldn't, ignore pain. Learned not to take painkiller when I was growing up, and not to mention anything hurt unless it was killing me. The time my father met me in the emergency room after I was punched in the jaw, I wound up comforting and calming him while waiting for an x-ray. That's a particularly horrible thought to me now, me speaking words of comfort through grind￾ing, broken bones. I've tried to chill out since then. You can take macho too far.

Still, when one of my fag friends comes up to me, lifts me and swings me around in greeting, I'll be damned if I'm not going to do the same. I don't care if he is four times my size. I may be small and cute but I am a tough woman. I'm my mother's daughter, after all.

I am a woman.

It had been a long time since I had a girlfriend. I think of it like a desert, miles of hot sand with the occasional patch of green. That was me, wandering in my celibacy, with these rare and precious one time things. We had been flirting a lot, this whole do I like her, does she like me, what are we going to do about it thing. And I had been talking about how much I wanted to try pouring wax on somebody ever since that party when those women did it to me. She was interested, and it seemed like something sexy but safe we could do, cause both knew we weren't going to be lovers. So I'm coming home from band practice, taking these long easy curves on the Beltway, thinking about her naked on my bed. Got home and she and my housemate had melted the candle in a pot of boiling water, with much joking we made it into the bedroom. I kicked my housemate out while she was undressing because he was being too sarcastic.

She has a beautiful body. So many curves and roundnesses. Generous and lush. She lay on her back and let me pet her, run my fingers over her smooth skin. I was telling her how gorgeous she is, how glad I was to touch her.

I started out very gentle with the wax, pouring from high up so that it could cool on the way down, watching it flow onto her and smoothing it with my hands. It was warm, and so was she, and I got caught up in seeing how close I could get the candle to her skin before pouring, watching the way it ran and folded onto her body, the patterns that it made. I hadn't know how she'd like the pain, but she was making these sounds that told me she did, and I was awed by her strength and bravery, by how close she let me get to her clit.

Fucking is too intimate for a one-time thing. I get lonely afterwards. But I wanted to so bad, and so did she, and I couldn't stop myself. Her warmth and moisture on my fingers. Me pushing her open, that tight sweet place opening for me. Everything going hazy and sharp at the same time, and me just wanting it to go on forever, listening to every word, every sound, and wanting it never to stop.

Afterwards I lay on top of my housemate, holding him down with my body while she hit him with my riding crop. And we got dressed, and went to this bar, and I got sad because she's not my girlfriend and never will be.

Next time I melted that candle I dis￾covered how well wax bolds scent: it smelled exactly like her.

l am a boy.

… I didn't think he would ever letme touch him because I know that he's straight. I don't understand why he hangs out with me, why he keeps letting me tag along, going to movies with him and his roommates. It's hard to talk when he's in the room.

This one night, after the movie, all his roommates gradually crashed, leaving me more and more alone with him. I was afraid he'd hear my breathing change, hear my heart. Finally he told me to come upstairs with him and he showed me some pictures of his family in Puerto Rico, told me stories about them. I didn't sit too close but he put his hand on my leg. I kept looking between the pictures and his jeans, the seams and creases. I knew it was dangerous, but I couldn't stop looking.

"Go on," he said quietly, when he caught me looking. I turned bright red and looked away. Couldn't think of anything to say.

He put his hand on the back of my neck. Left it there for a long time, then started pressing down. I put my head against his jeans and just lay there, getting warmer and warmer.

The whole time I was sucking him I just kept thinking, I can't believe it, I can't believe he's letting me do this. Velvet and hard and salty and sweet and I always thought he was straight. Same way I feel now, y'know?

This is so beautiful I want it to last forever, and at any second I'm afraid that I'll have to stop.

[unwoundcorridors]

prompt #18: horses

pairing: andromeda/luna word count: 527

content warning: mention of past animal abuse (no details)

❈ written for @sapphicmicrofics ❈

—

She still remembered coming out to the stables of Black Manor with her sisters decades ago, and while most of her memories of it all were pleasant, Andromeda wished that she could forget Bella finding sick humour in abusing the Aethonan horses their father had bought for them as little girls. She and Narcissa had always done their level best to stop their eldest sister, and most of the time it had worked.

Yet… she wished she had done more. It was a common theme in her life, Andromeda thought as her fingertips trailed over the stall gate, finding more dust from years upon years of disuse. She almost wished she could... start over, somehow, however impossible it was.

The faint sound of light footsteps behind her didn’t pull her away from her own meandering thoughts, but when the light touch of a hand drifted down her forearm, Andromeda pulled her hand back and flexed her fingers, a slight, pleasurable shudder running through her from the welcome contact.

“My father knows of a breeder,” Luna said, and Andromeda—still not completely used to her airy, almost detached manner of speaking at times—waited just a few seconds longer, expecting the younger witch to extrapolate. However, when Luna only stared at her unblinkingly, Andromeda finally allowed herself to exhale the lingering tension within her and took a jab at continuing where Luna’s words might have led.

“I’m not sure if it's best to try again, and Narcissa…”

Luna tilted her head. “Draco has talked about his mother perusing the magical creatures sections of various newspapers.” She hummed, casting her gaze over the stable before looking back at Andromeda. “The last time we visited, while on my way back from the loo, I saw that she had circled a few Aethonan advertisements.”

Andromeda’s eyes widened. “Oh, she did?”

“I can show you my memory of it if you would like,” Luna responded, as nonchalant as if she had simply offered a glass of water to her.

Waving her hand dismissively, Andromeda instead took Luna’s hands in her own and rubbed her thumbs over the woman’s skin. “That’s not needed, Luna. Not at all. But…” She leaned forward, dipping her chin a little in the process, and pressed a kiss to her partner’s lips. “You’ve given me another reason to visit Cissa again now.”

Luna, cheeks flushed, said softly, “Perhaps it is best that only you go.”

“Oh?”

“Your sister might not appreciate that I pried.”

Shoulders falling a little, Andromeda ran her fingers through Luna’s wavy, pale blonde hair—much paler than her sister’s honeyed blonde colour. “Oh, sweetheart, Narcissa will only be mortified that she left anything about to even pry into. She’s not like your old housemates. If there’s anything Cissa appreciates now, it’s people who speak the truth to her, however painful or revealing it might be. Have I told you how our first meeting after the war went?”

The other witch’s eyes brightened with curiosity. “No, you haven’t.”

Taking Luna’s hand in her own, Andromeda began to walk them towards another area of her old childhood home’s gardens, the tale spilling from her lips easily.

[sincerely-wyvern]

Harry, Ron, Hermione - genderbent

Relationship: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley – Hector Granger, Halesia Potter, and Regina Weasley Prompt: (Trope) Genderbender

Regina Weasley frowned as she watched her best friend Halesia Potter enter the common room. The other witch looked paler than usual and her green eyes were darting around, mapping out a few escape routes. Watching her best friend, Regina was certain that Halesia hadn’t entered her name into the Goblet of Fire. Halesia was shying away from everyone and their attention, and it was likely she had a few escapes planned – to their dorm, from the common room, from the Gryffindor tower, and probably from Hogwarts as well.

Lifting her head, Regina easily caught her best friend’s eyes. She offered a small smile before nodding towards the staircase.

The look of relief on Halesia’s face made something in Regina’s stomach twist. The younger witch nodded and returned the smile.

Regina turned and pushed her way through the crowd to the staircase. She ignored the frowns thrown her way. 

“Watch it!” hissed a dark-haired wizard in his sixth year.

Blue eyes narrowed as she stared at him. 

The wizard flushed before turning away.

Regina rolled her eyes as she resumed walking to the staircase. She lingered by the staircase, looking over the crowd of her Housemates. Most of them were busy celebrating Halesia’s selection as the Fourth Champion. 

It was a struggle not to sneer. 

Honestly, people were too stupid sometimes. 

Herself included.

For the better part of an hour, Regina was convinced that Halesia entered her name into the Goblet. 

It was clear that Regina’s jealousy and insecurity were getting the better of her. Since they met, Regina and Halesia were nearly inseparable and they did most things together. She was upset that her best friend – her chosen sister – would do something like The Triwizard Tournament without her. Being excluded and ignored were two of her biggest insecurities and Halesia knew that better than anyone. 

Growing up, Regina was often forgotten by her mum and ignored by her siblings. It was no secret that her mum’s favorite children were Percy and Ginny while her dad’s favorites were Bill and Ginny. Charlie took a special interest in the twins. Everyone else in the Weasley family had someone to look after them. Only Regina was alone.

A hand grasped her elbow making her tense as her wand slid into her right hand.

Turning, Regina relaxed a little. It was only Hector Granger.

The older wizard raised an eyebrow. He was used to Regina’s reflexes, she was quick with her wand.

“What’s the plan?” Hector asked.

Regina shrugged. “I’m still working on it,” she answered, “but the first step is trying to get Hales out of the Tournament.”

Hector nodded, looking serious. “I’ll get Nev and Kier to help me,” he stated.

“I’ll get Hales to write Padfoot and Moony,” she said, “and I’ll write everyone I know with journalism or law connections.” This might be the best time to send Percy a letter. 

Hector nodded. He glanced around before leaning closer. “I think this is the perfect time to bring out my time-turner,” he whispered. 

Regina was left stunned with her mouth partly opened.

Hector smirked before he headed to find his roommates.

Watching him walk away, Regina shook her head. That wizard did know how to surprise her from time to time. She had assumed Hector returned his time-turner last term.

“Re,” Halesia said, bumping her shoulder into her best friend’s.

“Hales,” the older witch greeted, reaching out and taking her best friend’s hand. She pulled the other witch up the stairs behind her.

Words: ~575

[blueberrymistruster]

Loneliness

I try to consolidate with the idea of loneliness. It is my final week of university and all of my housemates have gone home; my parents are unable to collect me for another week. I am perfectly happy in my own company; I read, I watch TV, I go on walks, I play with my hamster, I tap through endless games of online sudoku. Writing it down on paper, it all seems awfully banal but I can’t help but wonder what else there is to do? Create something perhaps? Not everyone is a creator though, and, as I said, I am more than content with the small life I am living through my books.

I recently read Mitch Albom’s ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ and I was drawn to the segment in which Morrie advises that you acknowledge a feeling, truly feel it, and then detach, stop wallowing in it and make room for all the other emotions. I suppose that it what I am doing here.

I feel lonely.

The house is quiet. Only one of my housemates remains, a girl who I have truly never had a real connection with. We lived together in first year, and again in my final year, but somehow something never quite clicked and even three years into knowing her, I find myself struggling to think of things to say to her which might lead to a conversation. I loved all the rest of my housemates – six others – and I realise that I don’t even feel guilt for not considering her as company. If anything, she is an obstruction, the flaw in my fantasy that I might live in this large house alone by choice.

I have a couple of friends and acquaintances I could see, and of course I call all my friends on a ceaseless rota, but I know it is not the lack of human contact which I miss, but the atmosphere of a house alive. Shouts up the stairs, constant overlap of music played on speakers and guitars, the smell of tuna pasta and curry and bacon being cooked simultaneously, feet thudding on the stairs while I try to work out who is heading up to the bathroom and if they will be long in the shower.

Perhaps it is not true loneliness I feel, but dread. When I go home, my parents and sister have their own lives. Here, our lives are intermingled; we are wrapped up in one another. I am understood here. So I suppose this silence is an introduction to the next few months of my life.

I plan to travel over Christmas: pack up my essentials into a backpack, fly to Indonesia for a month, then meeting my best friend in Sydney for a while, before I head off to explore the east coast on my own. Initially, the idea was borne of having nothing better to do. My post-grad options are essentially getting a 9-to-5 in some low-paying uninspirational job or travelling round the world. Which would you rather do?

As the idea has solidified in my head, (and the recently prescribed anti-depressants started to kick in), a genuine excitement has grown. I have spent happy hours flicking through Lonely Planet guides, reading travel blogs, watching Tiktoks of beautiful beaches and sunsets. I travelled through South-East Asia last summer with a few friends; it was one of the happiest periods of my life. At the very end, I went off on my own for a couple of weeks, mostly due to the fact that everyone else had prior commitments at home and I was reluctant to surrender the lifestyle of true freedom I had become accustomed to. I had met some amazing people while I was there and I was eager to taste solo travel for myself, so I picked Borneo at random and two days later, I was there. I had not considered that few backpackers of my age – or indeed, few backpackers in general – ventured to the Kinabatangan region, and while I experienced some of the most beautiful and eye-opening geography of the trip, I also experienced my first taste of real, blood-deep loneliness.

I find myself worrying that I won’t make connections while travelling, though I know that the very nature of solo-travel is about meeting people and living out perfect, fantastical friendships in paradise that end before they can sour.

I think about my backpack. Last summer, I never needed anything that I couldn’t carry on my shoulders, albeit with some backpain, but my room is cluttered with the colourful treasures of two years of living here, and I feel the weight of impending dread at boxing up my beautiful life here and leaving my bedroom as cold and empty as the rest of this silent house.

[firebirdsdaughter]

Random Writing Fragment…

… So, I realised I’d faltered in my Ryusoul writing since Zero-One started, partially bc ‘New Show Syndrome’ and partially bc writing is how I deal w/ stuff I’m not so thrilled about in canon (not gonna go into that, we already know what I disliked).

Anyway, it’s basically been hard to focus on writing for much else--however, I had a few scraps of an idea, and, to keep the Dino Knight spirits alive, I thought I might share a bit.

So this is a fragment from an idea I had back before the Gaisoulg reveal.

While it’s absolutely not gonna happen going by current evidence, I had this theory that Nada¡Gaisoulg wasn’t actually the Gaisoulg we saw at the start, if that makes sense? That, maybe there was someone else who was using the armour who had almost complete control/synchronisation w/ it, but that Nada had just recently started using it for… Reasons. XD (that I go into below)

Anyway, in this, said person who has (sort of) control over Gaisoulg is Master Black--who in this is also Touwa and Banba’s father, bc… I felt like it. So, I also went w/ the impression that Gaisoulg seemed to expect Banba to know something about them (along w/ Banba’s reaction to Touwa telling him about Gaisoulg name-dropping him; I even came up w/ an explanation as to why he might’ve reacted w/ ‘it can’t be’ that didn’t end up coming up here, but might on later edits), by interpreting it as implying Banba knew who had the armour (or who had it last).

So in prologue to this, Banba goes and confronts Master Dad w/ the intention of telling him to stay away from the kids--only to slowly realise that Master Dad doesn’t currently have Gaisoulg. Master Dad reveals that he has manipulated Nada into using the armour, and it is magnifying/feeding off his resentment for not getting to be Red, making him increasingly obsessed and dangerous. Banba realises Nada is w/ the kids, and proceeds to get so pissed off, he manages to force Master Dad to come along w/ him w/ the intention of having him take Gaisoulg back from Nada. Along the way, Master Dad decides to be very obnoxious.

And here we are.

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

“You weren’t this demanding as a child. Clearly you somehow unlearned your manners after I left.” Master Black’s tone persisted in being overbearingly cheery, a smirk playing across his face, even as his elder son and chosen Squire dragged him along by the elbow. “And really,” He continued, when Banba pointedly ignored him, “You’re getting upset over nothing.” When he still got no response, the older knight frowned, and dug his heels into the ground, forcing them to a stop before jerking out of his son’s grip. “Gaisoulg works fast, even without me. It’s probably already-”

He cut off when Banba whirled around, expression a mask of icy fury, surging forward to grab his father by the collar. “If he’s hurt them…” Each word was pure wrath. “I am holding you responsible.”

His former Master rolled his eyes, waving one of his bound hands dismissively as best he could. “Yes, yes, very frightening.”

But Banba didn’t back down—with a wordless snarl, he dragged his father closer, the rage radiating off him like a dark cloud. “This. Is. Your. Fault.” He hissed. “If he’s hurt them, I hurt you. They bleed, you bleed. Understand?”

His father stared back into his glare for a moment. “… Well, well, well.” He whispered with malicious delight. “Look who grew up while I was away.��� Banba made a disgusted sound, shoving Master Black away to turn back toward their path. “Hell of a way to treat family, though.”

Banba froze in his tracks. For moment, he stayed there, still as a statue—then turned back around mechanically, eyes narrowed, teeth gritted. “… Family?” He hissed, hands curling into fists, so tightly his knuckles turned white. Equally as slowly, he stepped back toward his former Master. “Touwa is my family.” Banba’s glare was black fire, and for once it seemed like he was towering above his father. “And not just him anymore; Kou, Melto, Asuna. Even Kanaro and Ui. They are my family.” He was back in Master Black’s face, and his voice dropped to a soft growl. “And you will not take them from me.”

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Very short and out of context. Additionally inspired by a different scene from Killjoys--good show from SyFy, just ended, five seasons, go watch if you like.

Anyway. I’ll maybe write more of this later--also got other Ryusoul ideas, and I deeply wanna work on Fair Trade. DX Wanna write me that Ui content. But I’ve had a bit of a stressful start to the week between Toku, Morris tours, head colds, and my sister’s corgi going in the kitchen, then getting into their bathroom, going on the rug, then chewing a damn razor and the soap. (PLEASE NOTE: Dog is FINE. She was taken to the vet and x-rayed soon after I discovered her crime. She didn’t swallow any metal--did swallow some plastic, but according to the vet, it should come out naturally (though they did give her some special food to hurry it along). She is merely in very big trouble, and is continuing to be her absolute gremlin self.)

So I’ll get back to work eventually. When my life isn’t so haphazardly cluttered. DX

[flailingangel]

I'm slowly beginning to understand why dream fucking stormed out of the pub after hob said they're friends (excluding the fact that he's more than a god and hob is just some guy™). Like imagine you go to a club and start hooking up with a guy.

U barely know each other and u don't even know his name but u both know you'll be there every month on that same exact day because you both have busy lives but sometimes y'all need to let your hair down and that just so happened to be the day ur both free. And then one day this guy(who's barely a friend with benefits btw) asks "so we're dating right" and the AUDACITY. Sure you like to go out of the club so you can actually hear each other talk. Sure you walk home together and get snacks and eat together. Sure maybe you even hang out at each other's houses waiting to use the shower or just having tea. Maybe he's even protected you from some street thugs that one time and you saved his ass in the end. BUT HOW DARE HE SUGGEST YOU'RE DATING?! You told him from the start this was just a hookup.

It's not like you made heart eyes whenever he would go on rants about how much he hates Shakespeare even though you love him. Nevermind the fact that you feel butterflies in your chest whenever he talks about the most mundane shit "omg they've added Fanta to the menu" "we can vape inside now!" "What will they think of next" or how you feel alive when he talks about how shit a day he's had "my girlfriend broke up with me" "you have a girlfriend?" but still wants to continue working at his shitty 9-5 job and live in his shitty shoebox apartment BC "life is rich" and "I have so much to live for".

Nevermind all that. You're just a stranger in the club and he's just some guy you're on slightly good terms with. You're not dating. You don't need intimacy thank you very much. Too messy. You live in a studio because housemates always gossip. You're single bc you love your work. You're alone because you like the privacy. You're only hooking up bc your sister mentioned it once and it intruiged you. What need do you have of a relationship? And then you miss the meeting. Not because you don't think you're friends as the guy says but because you're being held for ransom as your older sister is actually a member of parliament as are your parents. But it's your sister they want.

As you're kidnapped you have a lot of time to think about your past relationships. That one didn't work out because you were a dick. Plain and simple. You really should let her out of prison but old wounds still haven't healed. The next one was because she had started seeing that other guy. What was his name? You don't remember. The other one seemed to be going well. You courted her right, no missing son, no fights. But she still left you. Why? You can't understand. You just went to her one day and she said she couldn't keep doing this. But you brought her creations no one else could make. Showed her beauty beyond the two of you. What was it then? What did she say? You struggle to remember, to find the puzzle pieces and put them in the right place at first. But you're stuck for a while. Your parents don't come-you're an adult after all- nor do your siblings who mind their own business. Time passes ever so slowly. You come up with ways to torment your captors when you escape. Maybe kidnap the man's son so he knows what it's like. Or his husband. Maybe burn the place to the ground. Or kill them and dump their bodies in the ocean. You have the money from your work as a glass artist to buy a boat in their name. How would you get out? Would you real your thumbs to get the cuffs off? Or would you be saved by the guy from the club?

What would you say to him? You'd definitely call him a friend. You'd hang out more than once a month. You'd go shopping and get clothes. How you missed clothes. Even the feel of denim chafing your skin would be welcome right now. You'd hang out the morning after. Make breakfast. Burn it. You'd tell him he was right and you were dating. You'd tell him you were in love. Then you'd mess it up and he'd leave you. Just like all the others did. What had she said? What did you do to drive her away? You always visited her when he had time. When the work wasn't too much and he remembered the day. Sure that meant sometimes he had to miss out a date or two but you always told her. Better than how you left things with Hob. Abrupt and without warning. Then you remembered how you'd tell her. Only an hour before the date. She had made a reservation and had been looking forward to it for days. Sure you had let her know but only barely in advanced. And there was that one time you didn't even keep track of the time. Let alone the date and you'd missed a weekly date. She'd brushed it off but now you can see the resignation in her eyes as she said it was fine. And that was it wasn't it? That was the final nail in the coffin.

Not with him. Not with Hob. You'd tell him. You'd break out of this godforsaken hellhole and tell him everything. It didn't matter anymore. Fuck pride. Fuck privacy. Fuck mess and tidiness. You would tell him, the once a month hookup. You'd admit he was right and you were wrong and you loved him and you were dating. Just as soon as you got out of these cuffs.

[beautifulhigh]

Happiest of birthdays to my darling @bubblesandroses8 - you deserve all that is good in this world and I hope this helps put a little light into your life. You are my muse in human form, you help me turn ideas into something that actually resembles a plot, and you craft your own stories which live in my heart like it’s nothing. It’s something. It’s everything.

So what do you do for the queen of dads!Tarlos fics? You go and play in that sandbox for a while. I hope I did it justice.

***

That glamorous love lasts where you sparkle and waltz and laugh before you were mine (7k) (AO3 link)

Somewhere in the midst of all this planning and preparation and family time, the youngest of Carlos' sisters had managed to land herself a job interview in Austin. The idea of getting her baby girl back to Texas was making the joyous situation of Carlos' wedding even more wonderful so for Andrea and so she had managed to rearrange the moving jigsaw of family members to free up Bella and herself and they were going into town to get her a suitable interview outfit.

There was one issue that needed to be solved: baby Carolina. All of ten months old and no one left to watch her in the way that apparently was needed for a child under the age of one.

Except Tío Carlos.

OR

How TK and Carlos spend an impromptu day looking after the youngest of the Reyes grandchildren.

OR

How Jen plays in the dads!Tarlos 'verse for a moment.

TK forced himself to pick up his feet as he walked along the corridor. The loft door was in sight, his keys had been in his hand and primed since entering the building. He was so close. On the other side of that door were the welcoming arms of his fiancé and then a few steps beyond those was the bed and he would probably manage to kick off his shoes before he fell into it and then after that he had no other plans than to sleep until he was woken up for food.

Carlos was probably going to wake him up for food. He usually did.

Doing additional shifts in the run up to the wedding had seemed like a good idea and they both were picking up the hours where they could in order to mitigate some of the costs that seemed to be spiralling away from them. Today's (very very very very very very) long shift was for the cake. Or maybe it was for one of the "groom's maid" dresses? TK couldn't remember and right now it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting through that door and going to bed. The hug from Carlos had become optional. He'd understand, TK was sure of it.

A shift of solid calls, of Paul taking pity on the EMS crew and making them a portable meal they could eat between scenes, of Tommy trying to get them off grid for a proper break only to be told that three houses had been called to a major operation just outside the city: while Dispatch would do their best they'd not been this stretched for medical cover since the ice storm. The best they could do was try to keep them in a specific area for a bit but they would need to go where they were needed.

The firefam had rallied around when it became clear that the run on medical calls was keeping them from the house and any kind of rest. Judd had made them copious amounts of "real coffee" and when the bus met up with the rig on some of their calls the paramedic team were given brief moments of respite by their housemates: new supplies of food and drinks, and the fire crew doing a bit more medical than they normally would. Not for the first time TK appreciated what a family his dad had created here in Austin, and how lucky he was to get to work with people who would willingly bandage up a wound or take over monitoring a patient so that you could take a quick bathroom break.

But the shift was over and it was done and he was home and he could sleep and be taken care of for the next however many hours. The family of the 126 was something but the family of his fiancé on the other side of this door was all he wanted right now.

He unlocked and opened the door and stopped dead, fairly sure he was already asleep and dreaming.

Carlos gently bounced the baby in his arms who was still grizzling and refusing to settle at all. "I can explain," he said.

keep reading

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!!)

feat. Bokuto Koutaro

Previously:  Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro. Tsukkishima Kei

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 4.1k

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Angst, Hogwarts AU, Bokuto / Reader

Summary: Tutoring Bokuto Kotaro in Charms seems like a waste of your time. But then you get to know the Hufflepuff seeker, and start looking forward to your tutoring sessions with him.  

A/N: Comments as always, are much welcomed. Feel free to shout at me anytime!

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

“I’m Bokuto!”

You stare coldly at the large hand shoved into your face. “Yes, I know. And so?” You arch an eyebrow and let your question linger awkwardly in the air. Surprisingly, even that fails to  dampen the brightness of the grin on his face, despite the fact that any other student would have turned tail and run at being on the receiving end of the resident Ice Queen of Slytherin’s glares. 

Your Charms professor coughs into his hand. “Ah. Yes. Bokuto requires some tutoring assistance, and I thought you’d be the right person to help out.”

You open your mouth in protest, but clamps it shut at the look of warning the professor shoots at you. It’s your bad luck you got caught sneaking books out of the restricted section of the library, it wasn’t as if the books you had your eye on contained dark magic in any case, they  just contained spells deemed too dangerous for idiots like the one standing before you to even attempt. And instead of detention for a month, your Charms Professor who’s always had a soft spot for you suggested you divert your free time to tutoring struggling students instead. 

“Fine”, you snap before turning to the boy. “You better not be as bad as Ushijima - Merlin only knows he was as dumb as a bag of bricks”. 

Bokuto agrees to meet you every Tuesday in an unused classroom for Charms tutoring. You do not care that he seems to wilt ever so slightly at the insults you lob at his Hufflepuff teammate - you have no time to suffer fools, after all. 

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Unfortunately, while Bokuto doesn’t take everything as literally as Ushijima (it was a problem you faced when you tutored the stone faced boy, especially for a subject requiring as much personal flair as Charms), he struggles with the precise motions and pronunciation needed for Charm incantations, and you’re losing your patience with him after he messes up Aguamenti for the tenth time today. 

“You need to move your wand like a wave of water before pointing it sharply - like you’re shooting a jet of water into a glass”, you repeat yourself in exasperation. 

He tries his best, waving his wand exaggeratedly but forgets the emphasis on the second syllable, so his wand remains completely dry. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. “Look - it’s really not that hard. If you remembered all the notes I gave you about this charm, you’d have gotten it by now. Merlin - what’s wrong with you dumb Quidditch Players?” 

“It’s not that easy to remember everything when you keep calling me dumb all the time”, Bokuto mutters, resentment colouring his tone. 

Your shock that Bokuto - the human embodiment of a sunbeam, seems to have abandoned his usual cheerfulness for an uncharacteristically stormy expression, quickly morphs into annoyance that he has the temerity to get short with you considering you’re the one that’s been forced to give up her Tuesday evenings in an attempt to get him to pass his Charms exams. 

“That’s because you ARE dumb”, you retort coolly. “Try casting the charm again”. 

He shocks you again by gathering his things and walking out of the classroom. 

“Where are you going?”, you call after him, confused. Even Ushijima put up with your insults and snide remarks for an entire term, but Bokuto doesn’t even look back.  

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

Bokuto doesn’t turn up next week either despite struggling in class with the very charm you spent hours trying to hammer into his head. Nor the week after that. Midterms come and go, and you overhear from a group of his twittering fangirls in the bathroom that his spot on the Quidditch team is on the line after failing his Charms exam as expected. 

Guilt gnaws at you. Strange, since you assumed your heart is practically a block of ice by now. 

You spend days trying to corner him to no avail. You always knew he had plenty of friends, but you didn’t realise how popular he actually was. He’s constantly surrounded by his teammates - or even other Quidditch players like Kuroo from Slytherin, or Hinata from Gryffindor, and his childhood best friend Akaashi follows him like a shadow despite being from Ravenclaw, not Hufflepuff. 

So you bide your time and wait until he finishes Quidditch practice, whispering from the shadows “Diffindo” to sever the straps of his bag. Your plan works - Bokuto cheerfully waves his teammates to go on without him, and the horde of hungry Hufflepuff Quidditch players head off to the Great Hall for dinner. 

“Why haven’t you come back for tutoring sessions?” You try to sharpen your question into an accusation, but your guilt makes you falter midway and you just sound bewildered instead. 

Your bewilderment is mirrored in Bokuto’s eyes. “Huh?” he frowns. “I thought you didn’t want to tutor me in the first place, so I asked my friends to help me out instead.”

You snort, tapping your foot. “Akaashi’s a year below, so I doubt he’s much help, and Kuroo’s much better at potions than at charms. And I hear you’re going to get kicked off the team if you don’t pull up your Charms grades in the remedial exams before Christmas.” 

The furrow between his brows deepens. “Why do you care if I’m failing my exams?” 

You’re not accustomed to dealing with someone so straightforward and genuine and innocent. You’re used to conniving serpents like Oikawa and Daishou who would have no hesitation hiding daggers in their sleeves just to get ahead, so the fact that his question is honest floods your belly with guilt.

“Because I feel bad for calling you dumb.” You decide to honour his honesty with a straight answer. “Do you still want me to tutor you if I promise to be nice?” 

Any shadow of lingering guilt is chased away by the sheer sunniness of his smile. 

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

The ice in your heart starts to thaw in the face of his exuberance and friendliness. 

“You’re much nicer than people say you are”, he tells you one day with blunt honesty. “Why don’t you have more friends?”

You shrug, accustomed to the title that your peers have chosen to label you with. The Ice Queen of Slytherin, your housemates whisper behind your back after you slash Miya Atsumu’s robes in your second year, leaving him standing in nothing but his underwear after he pulled your bra strap on a dare. 

Your mother and older sisters taught you self-defense charms even before you entered Hogwarts, and you have no qualms about using them, even against one of the most popular boys in your house. But it proves to be a miscalculation - one that leaves you with few friends other than those who’ve known you since your childhood. 

“I don’t need friends”, you say, words frigid. 

He grins at you, undeterred. “I’ll be your friend!” He declares, leaning forward, balancing his chair precariously on two legs. 

“I’d be happier if you pass your exam”, you tell him dismissively, though there’s an amused curl at the corner of your lips. 

True to his word, Bokuto drags Akaashi over to the Slytherin table during dinner the very next day. You startle as he plops into the empty seat across you, Akaashi giving you a slight nod of acknowledgement that’s also tinged with an unspoken ‘sorry you have to put up with my overly excitable best friend these days’ that you snort at. 

Kuroo rounds up the trio, and between his and Bokuto’s bickering over who’s getting the best pickings from the meat dishes on the table, and Akaashi’s admonishments not to cause a ruckus that fall on deaf ears, you’re so entertained that you laugh aloud, though you wince internally when half the Slytherin table snaps their heads around to stare at you, dumbfounded. 

Miya Osamu actually looks up from his katsudon to elbow his brother. Miya Atsumu chokes on his food. 

You assume it was just a one-off event, Bokuto just trying to repay you with his kindness, but to your surprise, he’s back at least twice a week, and soon your lonely corner at the Slytherin table turns into the most boisterous ones. His very presence draws the most random assortment of people into his sphere - soon you’re joined by Tsukkishima, the quiet, stone faced Ravenclaw, Hinata, Bokuto’s self appointed protege and burgeoning sun in his own right, Sawamura, the stoic, steady Hufflepuff Keeper, on top of the usual suspects like Kuroo and Akaashi. 

Not everyone is as amused by this turn of events. 

“What’s he doing at our table?” 

“I heard he’s being tutored by the Ice Queen herself - maybe that’s why he’s here.” 

“That makes sense. Heard he’s really dumb.” 

You stiffen as you hear your classmates snigger. Bokuto wilts, even the ridiculous mop of hair on his head starts to droop. Kuroo and Akaashi wear twin expressions of murderous intent on their face and both start to rise, insults on their tongues when you whip out your wand, freezing your offending classmate’s lips to his glass. 

“Call him dumb one more time and I’ll freeze your balls to the bench”, you smile sweetly, poison in your words. 

Kuroo guffaws as you turn back to your conversation with them with a saccharine “now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” Akaashi snorts into his hands. 

Bokuto looks at you as if you’ve handed him the latest firebolt model on a gilded plate. You refuse to meet his eyes for the rest of the night. 

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

You find that he responds far better to praise than negative reinforcement, bouncing around the classroom with such childlike enthusiasm whenever he succeeds in casting another new charm that it makes your lips tilt upwards. The combination of his Hufflepuff diligence and your renewed patience makes his performance in charms skyrocket, and soon, he’s improved enough for you to teach him the more fiddly, advanced charms. 

‘You have to flick your wrist lightly’, you tell him for the fifth time this evening. Ascendio is a difficult charm to master, even by your own standards, your own wrist already sore from the various rounds of demonstration. 

He tries to mirror your action. It doesn’t work. 

‘Um.’ You rack your brains, thinking of something, anything that might help. 

Ah.

‘You’ve got to move your whole arm like it’s the wing of a snitch. You know – keep the arm and wrist action light, like the flutter of wings.’

He furls his brow, trying to mirror your action again. It doesn’t work. This time, he pouts. 

Impatient, you grab his hand. ‘Look!’ You slap at his arm to get him to loosen up – seriously, what do they feed these quidditch players, taut muscles tensing beneath your fingers as you try to puppet his arm into an approximation of the wrist movement. He gazes down at you with wide eyes as you press your form against him. 

‘I’ll show it to you again. Ascendio’, you call, and with a sharp flick of your wrist, your feet lift off the ground, your skirt fluttering in the air. Then with a smooth swish of your wand, you descend to the ground, cocking your head to your student. ‘Come on, Bokuto, you’ve got to master it by the end of the night.’

He tries again and again to no avail. Charms is a far more creative branch of magic than transfiguration or even potions – and what works for one might not work for another. You recalibrate, trying to relate what you’re teaching to his true love - Quidditch. 

‘Maybe you could imitate the movement of a snitch about to take off once the whistle blows?’ 

 ‘A snitch?’ he laughs boisterously at your suggestion. ‘I could do that.’ 

He screws up his eyes tightly, his entire body falling still before he raises his arm. With a flick and swish, a hooted “Ascendio”, Bokuto floats up into the air.

“I did it!” He pumps his fists in the air, grinning down at you. Then with a smooth finite incantatem, he descends back to the grimy classroom floor. 

“Well done!” You laugh aloud, clapping your hands, so drunk with elation at his success that you don’t notice the sudden softness in his golden eyes. 

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

“Waiting for Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks. 

You hesitate for a beat, a pink tint to the apples of your cheeks before you nod without a word. 

“I’ll leave you two be then”, the Ravenclaw boy says, walking off with his hands tucked in his robes, a small smile flickering on his face. 

You exhale slowly through your nose. Maybe you should have left Akaashi to wait for Bokuto instead - they’re best friends, practically platonic soulmates you gather from Bokuto’s chatter as he walks you back to the Slytherin dungeons every Tuesday night, something he insists on despite your protests. You’re just his tutor - but here you are, hanging around outside the classroom where his remedial exam is being held, palms clammy in nervous anticipation. 

You tell yourself that you’re waiting for him because you can’t wait to know whether the tutoring sessions that take up your precious Tuesday evenings will end. You wonder if that means that he’ll stop coming over to hang out over dinner with you, the thought making your heart feel as if it’s frosted over again. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” His booming voice interrupts your reverie, and you glance up to see him burst out of the classroom, the joy on his face outshining even the sun. 

“You passed, I assume”, you snark, hands on hips, but he doesn’t even register your badly disguised coldness, grabbing by the waist to lift you easily into the air, spinning you in circles until you’re both giddy with delight. 

“I did, I did, thanks to you!” He crows, still clinging on to you like a lifeline. “They were so impressed when I cast Ascendio, and I was like swish, and they were like aughhh wahhhhh - and it was so awesome!” 

“I’m glad my effort paid off then, dummy”, you tease - seriously, it would make your housemates’ jaws drop if they caught you giggling, let alone being held aloft in Bokuto’s arms, but you’re just so happy for him that you don’t order him to put you down. 

He stills suddenly, and you’re worried that he’s taken offense at the affectionate nickname until you notice his eyes are trained at the arch above you and oh - 

Mistletoe. 

It’s Christmas, and the house elves have hung enchanted sprigs of mistletoe around the castle on the orders of the mischievous headmaster to prank unsuspecting students. Any student trapped under enchanted mistletoe may only be released upon giving or receiving a kiss, and you’re about to press a chaste kiss to Bokuto’s nose when you glance back at him and notice his eyes are molten gold, laden with desire. 

“Bokuto - “ you begin, but you’re promptly cut off by the searing brand of his lips against yours, gasping as he backs you against the wall, his mouth plundering yours. You should protest, but any sentient thought you might have is lost in your newly awakened hunger for him, this beautiful, sweet boy with golden eyes and silver hair who’s kissing you. 

“I like you,” he says breathlessly when you finally push him away in an effort to pull air into your deprived lungs. “Go out with me - please?” he adds, almost as an afterthought, brushing his thumb against your cheek with a gentleness that belies his large frame crowding you against the wall. 

You want to, oh Merlin - you want to indulge in the warmth that’s starting to sprout in the previously frozen tundra of your heart but you have to recognise that he’s Bokuto Koutaro, Quidditch player extraordinaire bound for the professional leagues, so popular that he already has a fanclub in school. 

And you - you were a social pariah before you met him, you would ruin his reputation if anyone finds out that you’re in a relationship with him, not to mention you’ve been accused of being cold and distant and harsh - all characteristics that disqualify you from being a good match for him. 

“I can’t.” You shake your head, keeping him an arm’s length distance from you, because if he comes any closer, you might lose your resolve. “We wouldn’t work out at all”.

The golden light dims in his eyes, and his arms fall limply to his side.  “Is it because I’m dumb?” He asks, his voice heartbreakingly quiet. 

“No!” You cry, taking a step towards him. “That’s not it at all!” 

He frowns, confused. “Then why don’t you wanna go out with me? Don’t you like me?” 

“I do”, you admit, hating yourself for having to extinguish the spark of hope in his eyes. “But we won’t work out -” 

“Why’re you so sure of that?” He takes a step forward, reaching towards you. You knock his hands away and he stumbles back, stung. 

“Because I’m not good enough for you!” You shout, your words echoing against the castle walls. “Because I’m snarky and frigid and cold and rotten to the core - and you’re wonderful and funny and sweet and you deserve so much better than me”. 

Your words stun him into silence, and before he can work out a response, before your resolve starts to crumble, you take a large step away from him. With trembling hands, you reinforce the frozen fort in your heart, forcing yourself to beat a hasty retreat. 

“Besides”, you add, voice shaking. “What could I possibly offer you?” 

You disappear around the corner, coldly ignoring him even as he calls your name. 

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

“He’s wandering around the castle like a lovelorn ghost”, Akaashi says, dropping into the library seat across yours. 

“Explain why that makes it my business”, you hiss with the indignation of a cornered boggart with no means of escape. 

He just gives you a knowing look and you glance at the skulking librarian, wondering if you should risk a detention to drive your sharpest quill into the back of the Ravenclaw boy’s hand. 

“You know, it’s sad you think so little of Bokuto-san that you refuse to allow him to make choices for himself.” 

“What are you - “ 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” His gaze remains resolute, even as you snarl. “Why don’t you prove me wrong?” 

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

But you’re stubborn, so you avert your eyes whenever Bokuto comes into your line of sight, changing seats so you don’t sit anywhere near him in Charms, escaping whenever he tries to call your name. Your Tuesday tutoring sessions with him are a thing of the past. You even hear from Miya Osamu that Bokuto’s been trying and failing to bribe first years into letting him into the Slytherin Dungeons, though they’re all far too frightened of your reputation to even dream of crossing you, not even for the bait of a ride on his rare firebolt.

You’re lonely, but you refuse to admit it to yourself.   

You even refuse to watch the match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin despite it being touted as the social event of the year. Both team’s lineups are exceedingly impressive. Representing Hufflepuff there are powerful players like Bokuto, Ushijma, Azumane, even surly Kyoutani. Slytherin’s certainly no slouch either, with Oikawa, Suna, Daishou, Kuroo and the Miya twins. 

But you huddle in the library and ignore the screams and cheers of the whole school spectating the match until Akaashi skids into the library, distress clear on his face. 

“He’s injured”, he manages to spit out between heaving breaths, and you don’t even need to ask who he is, panic turning your ribs into kindling, burning a blaze through your chest as you sprint full speed towards the hospital wing. 

Quidditch is a horrendously dangerous sport - the Daily Prophet Sports Section is full of horrendous injuries like long lasting concussions and smashed bones that you’re already imagining the worst by the time you cross the threshold of the hospital wing. But Bokuto’s not even lying on the cot - he’s sitting upright, a confused yet hopeful expression on his face as you stare at him, dumbfounded. 

“A-Akaashi said you were injured”, you manage to stutter. 

Bokuto waves a bandaged finger at you. “Yep”, he says, taking wary steps one at a time towards you. “Suna got me good when I was about to catch the snitch”. 

“Oh”, you say lamely. “I see.” You’re thankful no one else is in the hospital wing to see your disgrace. “I’ll be going, then”. 

“Wait! Please don’t run away again”, he begs, taking advantage of your distracted state to catch your hand, his fingers circling your wrist easily. You tug against his grip, but it’s futile - you’ve left your wand in the library in your mad rush, and years of Quidditch training have sculpted Bokuto into the human embodiment of a brick wall.

“Let go of me!” You order him in the coldest tone you can muster. It’s not even icy - in fact, it’s probably lukewarm.  

He shakes his head, as stubborn as you. “Not until you hear me out”, he replies, pulling you out of the hospital wing into the nearest unused classroom. 

“Fine.” You cross your arms. “What do you want to say to me then?”

“Well for starters, you’re the most amazing, scary girl I know”, he says, grinning boyishly at you. “You’re so much smarter than me I don’t know how your head doesn’t go pfft cos it sure isn’t large enough to hold all your brains. And you’re nice - I don’t know why you pretend you’re not - Yachi said you cursed the boys who teased her ‘cos you found her in the bathroom crying, even though you literally met her for the first time - “ 

“Why are you telling me this?” You cut in, confused. 

“Cos you asked me what you could offer me” He answers simply, his fingers slotting in between yours. “The answer is you. I want you. I like you.” His grin softens into a bashful, goofy, adorable smile. “And I know I’m not smart like you or Akaashi, but I know enough to think you like me too.”  

Your mind is entreating you not to give in, reminding you that you’ll only drag him down with you but your selfish heart wins out. The weeks you’ve voluntarily isolated yourself from Bokuto have been cold and lonely, and the truth is you miss him - you miss the silly jokes he makes, the playful banter, his boundless confidence and kindness and friendliness. Maybe that makes you selfish, but you can’t deny it any longer, you want him for yourself.

So you reply with a shy smile of your own. “Maybe I do - like you, I mean”, you say, with an earnestness you must have learnt from him, tilting your face up towards him like a flower seeking the sun. 

His eyes grow wide with delight as you step into the circle of his arms, allowing him to draw you against his broad chest. 

“And to be honest, maybe I’m the fool for not letting myself admit that I’ve always liked you”. 

“Don’t call yourself tha - mmmph!” 

This time it’s your turn to interrupt him with a kiss, tipping his head down to slide your lips against his, the heat in his eyes and the sunshine in his smile that finally melting the last vestiges of ice in your heart and transforming you from a snow maiden into a girl made of flesh and bone. 

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

Akaashi convinces you to sneak into the holding area before the next match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. 

You’re self conscious, constantly adjusting the scarf in Hufflepuff yellow and black looped around your throat, but that immediately dissolves when Bokuto whoops the minute he spots you, bounding over to sweep you into an embrace, demanding at least twenty kisses before he lets you go. 

You oblige, because when faced with Bokuto’s pleading eyes, you’re weak, soft.  

Then you realise why Akaashi was so insistent on you surprising Bokuto just before his big match. 

Miya Atsumu falls off his broom, slack jawed. Miya Osamu trips over him. Even Suna Rintarou looks at you and Bokuto with a modicum of fear and respect. 

“Get it together!” Kuroo snaps at his team, hands on hips. 

None of that registers with Bokuto, of course. The minute the whistle blows, he speeds off, leaving even Oikawa in the dust, and before a dazed Miya Atsumu even scores once against Daichi, the Hufflepuff keeper, Bokuto is already holding the golden snitch aloft in his hand. He proceeds to do laps of aerial cartwheels around the pitch before hovering in front of the stands where you sit, shamelessly blowing kisses towards you. 

You hide your burning face in your hands. Akaashi just sits beside you, intolerably smug. Bokuto, oblivious as ever, just whoops.

[bokettochild]

Sisters, Scoldings and Seaside Memories

My excuse? I wanted to write the Oracles meeting the heroes and it spiraled into some Legend angst, because, well- this is me.

I do have a prompt I blame for this though, so go yell at the folks at @linkeduniverse-prompts for inspiring me with this idea.

The heroes had landed in Legend’s world again, jolted across time and space by yet another sudden switch, one that had left them more shaken and out of sorts than normal, and which, quite to everyone’s panic, had nearly made Four pass out. As was, the smithy had clutched ahold of the nearest hero at the moment, Legend, and refused to let go, resulting in his getting picked up and carried by the vet after they had figured out where they were.

The fact that they had been dumped so close to Legend’s house (they were only just a half an hour’s walk away) had unnerved the vet, and a few others, but there was no sign of monsters as far as their scouting crew could tell, even with the heavy rainfall, and if Hyrule, Wild and Twilight all agreed that the path was safe, then no one else was going to be the one to question them. After all, if you can’t trust the two best survivors and the best tracker on their team, who could they trust?

Ravio had greeted the group with open arms and cheerful welcomes, pulling the sopping smithy out of Legend’s hold and cooing when the multi-colored hero hadn’t even protested. Legend didn’t appear too very put out about it either, just shaking his head with a smile that he hid behind dripping bangs as he’d removed his shoes and barked orders at the rest of them to do the same.

While Legend stoked the fire and grabbed a blanket for Four, who Ravio was settling in his own favorite overstuffed arm-chair (if Ravio hated Legend's rocker, then Legend had already condemned that chair to the furthest corners of the dark world), the rest of the heroes stood about toweling themselves off and looking around. Ravio had reorganized again, although he’d left a few things, like the strange mask on the wall and a few other decorations, alone. It looked nice, cozier, although a bit less like a shop. When asked why, the merchant had waved off the curious looks from both the heroes and his housemate.

“I figured with all y’all visiting so much I’d probably better work out of the shed. It took a bit of tidying up- now Mr. Hero, don’t look at me like that, it was a mess! Anyways, I tidied it up, moved most of the things into the basement where you can get at them easier, Mr. Hero, and set up shop! Now y’all won’t have to worry about my things getting in the way.” Ravio smiled brightly as he finished, patting Four’s head and ignoring the smithy’s irritated look and looking pointedly at Warriors instead.

It was clear that Ravio’s adoption of Legend and Twilight’s use of the word ‘y’all’ was bothering the poor captain immensely.

The evening progressed as usual, with Ravio humming off key as he bustled about the house making ready the bedrooms for the heroes’ use. Wild, perhaps in wake of the pie incident, had finally been granted access to the kitchen, which allowed him to make dinner while the others offered Ravio their aid.

As “host” Legend had been assigned the task of sitting with Four until the smithy felt a bit better. The vet had at first protested leaving all the work to the others, but Ravio had finally persuaded him by pointing out that Mr. Smithy shouldn’t be left alone to stew too much in his thoughts, and wouldn’t Mr. Hero like to make sure the Hero of the Four Sword was quite alright in this particular Hyrule? Why that worked, or why Ravio had used that specific wording was unknown to the others, but Legend caved quickly after that, changing into a horridly oversized tunic and joining Four on the couch, the smithy leaning against him while the two talked over mundane things like metal imbalances in weapons and other such matters.

Time hadn’t been able to hide a snort of laughter as he caught wind of Four very casually explaining proper cooling methods to use on newly forged swords to a flushed veteran, and Legend had looked one instant away from snapping back about a recent mishap involving such a task, only stopped the smith’s continued softness of voice and weary eyes.

The knock on the door only sounded however, once most of the others had already bustled into the kitchen, leaving Legend and Four to eat their dinner together where the smith would be most comfortable and Legend couldn’t scold Twilight for his ‘wolfish’ manners at the dinner table.

Considering the vet had trouble keeping himself clean, Warriors had quietly commented that maybe the other boy didn’t exactly have room to be complaining about table manners.

The sound at the door was lost to those in the kitchen as they chattered and laughed, but to the two heroes in the living room it was clear as day, and startled them both so much that they both fumbled with their bowls, violet clashing with brown as sheepish smiles marred both their faces, light laughter on their lips at their shared startle.

The knock sounded again, this time urgent, repetitive and with a desperate air.

Amusement flickered to worry as Legend had risen from the couch, the line of his shoulders tight with worry as he’d reached for the sword he’d left at the door before even daring to lay his fingers on the door handle. Four’s own hand had scrabbled for his blade, but he’d remained sitting, tense and alert with his ears pricked forwards and eyes sharp against whatever might be outside.

There were a few things Legend was expecting to see when he’d opened the door; royal guards coming for the bounty that the king had still failed to lift from him, despite most all of Hyrule knowing by now of his innocence of the crimes attributed to him, or maybe it would be a villager desperately reporting a monster attack down in Kakariko, he had thought it strange they had been dumped so conveniently close to home with no danger immediately evident.

What was on the other side however was not any of the things on his mental list.

Three cloaked figures stood outside the door, two of them nearly looming over him as a pair of sharp blue eyes stared at him from beneath the shade of a hood, stern and wary, but not entirely devoid of concern. “Link! Oh, thank heavens you’re here!”

“Nayru?” The vet blinked in surprise, gaze falling first on the Oracle in front of him and then to her sisters, standing behind her and wrapped tightly against the rain. And for lack of anything better to say, or even think, he opened the door a bit wider, motioning vaguely with the sword still in his other hand. “Come in.”

Four’s eyes followed the three girls as green, red and blue had brightened the dimming room, the bright hair and clothes of the three Oracles strangely out of place in the muted tones of Legend and Ravio’s house. Legend stashed his sword back against the wall, taking the cloaks from the three ladies and hanging them on hooks with everyone else’s as Nayru turned to him with her face drawn and eyes flickering sternly.

“Link.” Nayru began, frowning down at the vet, who stared up at her with similar seriousness. “It has come to my attention that there has been a temporal and chronological anomaly that seems to have been following you, I’ve come to ask-”

“Four!” Farore’s trill broke through the tense atmosphere as the Oracle of Secrets rushed over to bundle the Hero of Four Swords into a hug. “How? Oh, my stars! It’s been so long! You look so much older!” The girl exclaimed, holding the sheepish smithy at arm's length and inspecting him. “I haven’t seen you in forever! Although, I suppose it seems like less time for you. Linky! How on earth did you rescue him?” That stopped the smithy silent, and he stared up at the greenette before him curiously as she chattered on, worry in her eyes. “Is that why he looks ill? Did you-”

“Farore.” For maybe the first time in his life, Legend actually managed a half decent growl. Sure, he still squeaked a bit, but it was low and harsh enough to nearly count.

“How-” Nayru frowned, blinking slowly at the smithy seated on the couch while Din waved to him quietly.

“Boys, is everything-” Time’s voice was cut off as the three Oracles spun to stare at him, color draining from their faces as Din buried her face in her hands, Farore tensed and Nayru stiffened, sharp blue eyes turning to Legend with a glare.

“I told you to never play with the Harp of Ages!”

“I didn’t!” Legend snapped back, glaring up at the older girl with something similar to a pout. For the other two heroes, had it not been for the painful tension of the situation, they may have smiled at how much the interaction looked like a pair of siblings arguing over a valued toy.

“Then how is he-” Nayru flung a hand out to point at Time, who stood awkwardly in the doorway. “-here?” The Oracle faltered, gaze turning back to Time in confusion before settling on Legend again. “Wait, which hero is that again?”

“Ouch.” Time deadpanned, completely on instinct.

“Hero of Time.” Legend returned with a scowl.

“Wait.” Farore stared from one hero to another in confusion. “Isn’t he dead? Linky, are you- have you been rescuing-”

“This one didn’t die.” Legend returned, looking increasingly done with the situation while Time and Four both winced.

“Split timelines, remember, Fare?” Din offered with a pained smile.

Nayru scowled, pinching the bridge of her nose as her other hand settled on her hip. “Link, I swear, the Harp of Ages isn’t even supposed to be able to cross realities! Do you know what you’ve done? Link, I know you miss her, but searching across time and space for her just doesn’t work! You’re going to-”

“I didn’t use the freaking harp!” Legend shouted, and to the surprise of both of the others, tears were gathering in his eyes. “So could you just not-” The vet’s voice broke as teary indigo glared up into startled ocean blue. “Could you just not bring that up? I know better, Nayru! Besides, which one of us is it that broke the timeline last time, huh?”

“That wasn’t me.” The blue-haired maiden sighed. “We both know I had no control over any of what happened. But your point stands, I’m- I’m sorry for accusing you.”

“Good.” Legend wrapped his arms around himself, a single tear trickling down his scowling face as Din flew over and wrapped him in a hug. “Oh, Sunshine, she didn’t mean it! We’re just worried is all, you know that, right?” The vet didn’t answer, but he did melt into the hold of the young woman as she patted his back gently.

The others chose that moment to make their respective appearances, peeking around Time to see Nayru standing awkwardly beside the embracing Oracle and Hero while Farore and Four exchanged a Look.

“Legend, who is this?” Hyrule frowned, instant regret flooding over his face as he saw Legend swipe the end of his over-long sleeve over his face with a violent sniffle and a huff, releasing Din as the red-head sighed sadly.

“The Golden Goddesses.” Time answered instead, nodding politely to the three ladies, who all offered him awkward smiles in return.

“The Oracles actually.” Nayru corrected with a strained smile. “Apologies, Forest Hero.” She inclined her head respectfully. “I meant no disrespect, it’s only that you are quite similar in appearance to another hero from this world, one that is near and dear-” The woman’s voice stuttered to a halt as she stared at the others peeking out from behind the eldest hero.

The room fell to silence for a brief moment as Nayru’s face fell, eyes widening dramatically as her shoulders slumped. “Is that- Link, how many Heroes of Courage are in your home?”

“Nine.” Legend huffed, crossing his arms and looking anywhere else but at the girl. “Counting me anyway.”

“Nine Heroes of Courage.” The Oracle repeated, dumbstruck, before rubbing her hands over her face. “That’s like half of all of Hylia’s Heroes in all! Why? Why would so many be gathered in one place? How did you even meet them?”

The vet shrugged, still not meeting the baby-blue eyes that turned his way in desperation. “A lizard. Also, portals.”

From where she was now sitting next to Four, Farore nodded. “That sounds just bizarre enough to be true.”

At Nayru’s nod of agreement, Din reached out to ruffle Legend’s pink hair. “Just like you to get pulled along in something like that, isn’t it, Link?”

The soft chuckle earned a hesitant smile from the vet as the others pushed further into the room, only to freeze again as Nayru’s startled again, staring across the room at Warriors, eyes full of horror. “Oh no. Not you!”

The captain blinked in surprise, offense taking over as he stared at the young woman. “Excuse me?”

Nayru shook her head, no long paying attention as she cupped her cheeks. “No, not the blasted Hero of Warriors! Oh, why me!”

“Okay, now that’s just offensive.” The captain huffed, crossing his arms indignantly as Legend chuckled softly.

Sharp blue eyes made the captain still again as the Oracle of Ages whimpered softly. “Of all the people in your home, Link, you had to have the one Hylian that my daughters obsess over? Why?”

All eyes turned to the vet, who now looked similarly dumbfounded and horrified, blinking slowly at nothing as one hand buried itself in his long bangs. “My niece has a crush on-” the vet viably gagged, face screwing up as he looked up to meet the confused stare of the captain, “-Oh my gross!”

“Seriously?” Warriors huffed with a glare before throwing his hands up, voice raising slightly as he spoke. “Could someone kindly explain why all of you suddenly find me disgusting?”

“Not you.” Din laughed. “My nieces just have something of an obsession with you, and Nayru’s sick of it. Add to that that-”

“Of all the people,” Legend interrupted with a horror filled mumble. “For my nieces to have a crush on, it had to be my brother? Just- oh that is just so incredibly gross!” Violet met twinkling red as the vet leaned back to stare at Din. “Why do the ladies in my family always have such weird taste in men?”

“Says the guy who had a crush on his now sister.” Farore sniggered, now fully wrapped up in the blankets with Four, despite no one having noticed either of them move. The smithy didn’t appear to mind either, his smile matching that of the Oracle of Secrets’, even if he didn’t appear to know exactly what was going on any more than the rest of them.

“It wasn’t a crush!” Legend near shrieked, stiffening as his face turned nearly as red as the long hair that shimmered in the firelight behind him. “You get asked to dance by a girl you don’t know and see how you act!”

Nayru, now somewhat recovered, grinned impishly at the blushing hero. “That’s right, besides, I’m pretty sure our little brother had a crush on a certain farm girl.”

“I didn’t like Ropely like that!” The vet huffed, brightening further. “Or Malon, if that’s what you’re implying. She’s my freaking cousin and that would just be gross.”

“Malon is your what now?” Time blinked, confused.

“I have a Malon in my time too.” Four offered, very unhelpfully, as the eldest hero looked like he was descending into mental acrobatics. “She works near castle town and even lives on a ranch. I think Malons are a constant in our worlds, just like Zeldas.”

“I don’t have a Malon...” Wind mused quietly while Time began to look increadibly distressed.

“It’s a family name.” Legend huffed, rolling his eyes as his blush began to fade. “Mine was named after our great-something-gramma. The same is probably true of Mamalon, Time. She’s probably named after an ancestor from Four’s time or something.”

“Great!” The smallest Oracle exclaimed with a clap of her hands. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, can I please make you recognize that my babies are in one place for once?”

Her sisters stared at her, blinking slowly. “Um, Fare, that’s sort of why Nayru just had a freak out?” Legend snorted but his...sister? Ignored it.

“Yes but,” Farore nodded at Four, who she’d once more wrapped in her arms. “Look!”

And they did. Four was cuddled up with a resigned smile, looking positively tiny in the Oracle’s hold and, admittedly, rather cute. There was not one person in the room left unaffected, and several actually cooed when Farore hugged him tightly, burying her face in the smithy’s hair. “All of my babies, I love you all so very much!”

Warriors laughed at that, shaking his head. “What, do the Golden Goddesses have favorite heroes too? I thought that was just Hylia!”

“Unfortunately, that is the case.” Nayru shrugged. “We can’t help getting attached, just like any other Hylian.”

“Who are who’s favorites?” Wind chirped; eyes eager as he stared from one Oracle to another.

It was Din who answered, wrapping her arms around Legend’s shoulders as she stood behind him, smile warm even in the chill of the evening as she stared at the sailor hero. “Sunshine here’s mine, he’s my baby brother after all!”

“Adopted, as all of our other siblings are.” The Oracle of Ages interjected, earning her a pout from her sister and a laugh from the heroes.

“Nayru’s favorite is the Hero of Time, it’s why she calls him by a nickname, and Farore, well...” The red-head grinned to where the youngest of the three Oracles was cooing and fussing over Four. “I think you can guess.”

“Do any of you have second favorites?” Wind pressed, curiosity flickering in ocean blue and silver.

“I haven’t had enough experience with most of the other heroes to really say, although the Hero of Wild’s never fails to make me laugh when I watch him through Nayru’s mirrors.” The Saesonal Oracle laughed, making the hero in question flush lightly. “Both for his pranks and clever antics, and, of course, having a horse named after you means you simply have to adore the owner!”

“Farore has several favorites, she’s just only ever interacted with Link and Four.” Nayru chuckled. “She’s quite fond of those who had to strive for Courage though, so I suppose the Hero of Hyrule and the Hero of Winds likely tie for her second favorite.” The two boys in question grinned brightly at each other. “As for myself, I find that as the Keeper of Time, I have quite the fondness for its hero. Although, my baby brother and brother-in-law are also dear to me.” Twinkling blue settled on Sky’s flushed face as the Oracle winked. “Hylia could have chosen no one better to be her lover, and I approve the match wholeheartedly.”

Sky proceeded to flush a color o one had known existed and quickly lower himself to the floor, smiling madly and covering hisface with his hands, earning tender laughter from the blue-haired maiden as she turned her attention back towards the other heroes.

“And for some reason, I’m the only hero left unfavorited.” The captain sulked.

“If it’s any consolation.” Farore called out. “Our other baby sister thinks you’re cute! She says she’s glad you married her daughter!” The Captain Hero choked, and it was only due to Twilight thumping the others back that the poor man didn’t choke right then and there. “The same goes for the Twilight Hero, Lolia absolutely adores him!”

“How did the same goddess choose us both? We are nothing alike?”

Warriors coughed in what might have been agreement.

Farore only shrugged. “I suppose it’s the same reason she adores Ravio so much, it’s the hero who makes an impression on her world that earns her favor.”

The heroes in question took their time processing that, and in the meantime, Legend darted off toe retrieve dry things for his elder sisters, only to come back to Ravio chattering to the three, who’d now gathered on the same couch as Legend and Four had been on earlier, all answering his questions fondly and politely while Farore continued to suffocate Four with hugs. The smithy didn’t seem to mind though, resting easily, eyes glimmering reddish-brown in the fire-light as the Oracle of Secrets toyed with his ong hair.

“I brought warm clothes.” Legend called, offering the things with a brief shuffle of his feet. “They’re Fable’s, but I don’t think shell mind.”

Ravio frowned, looking up at the offered garments with furrowed brows. “Are you sure that will warm them enough, Mr. Hero? It would be horrible if your poor sisters caught cold!” Grenn flickered knowingly, and Legend huffed as he met the expectant gaze.

“Fine, I’ll brew some cider, since I expect that’s what you suggest?”

“Oh! Mr. Hero, how kind of you! I didn’t mean to ask, but since you’ve offered I’m sure your lovely sisters will love to have some!”

Din straightened in her seat, eyes sparkling brightly. “Cider? Oh, Link! I haven’t had your cider in ages! Please make some! I’d actually kill for a cup about now!”

And really, who was the veteran hero to argue with the will of the Oracle of Seasons?

“He’s made you cider before?” The Oracle of Ages frowned.

“Oh, all the time! The whole circus troupe loved it! Auntie Impa always used to beg him for the recipe, but it was that one thing she could never convince him about. It’s absolute heaven, Nay! You’re going to love it!”

The bluette huffed, crossing her arms and faking a put. “He never made me any cider.”

“Because you tried to kill me!” Legend’s voice called back from the kitchen, making the three girls startle slightly. “If you hadn’t, maybe you could have tried some along with Ralph and Raven.”

“I wasn’t- I was- Link!” Nayru spluttered as a cackle arose from the kitchen. “I was under mind control!”

“Still tried to kill me!” The vet chirped back with far too much cheer considering what he was saying. And really, none of the others could argue his point, either because they didn’t understand what was being discussed or because it was true.

Cider was passed around after a brief wait, during which the others had made idle small talk and Farore had finally agreed to release Four from her grasp. The short hero still sat at her side, trading smiles with the three Oracles as he chatted amiably with them, clearly familiar with all three and quite happy to see them again, even with the drama from before.

No one brought up what Farore had meant about ‘rescuing’ him.

When Legend finally emerged from the kitchen, Ravio’s tray stacked high with mugs of steaming cider, silence had quickly fallen save for the quiet sips and louder slurps of the three as Legend handed out the mugs, finishing with the three Oracles and promptly plopping himself down in their midst, entirely uncaring of the looks they exchanged over his head while Four shifted a bit closer to his brother.

“Link,” Nayru settled her mug in her lap and stared over at the pink-haired hero, unfortunately gaining the attention of the rest of the chain in the process. “About earlier, I really am sorry for accusing you. It was wrong of me to assume-”

“You already apologized, it’s fine.” Legend cut her off, yawning softly as he sipped his cider.

“No, it’s not. But I’d like to make it up to you.” The mug was set aside as long fingers had begun to glow with a soft blue, catching the vet’s eyes and making him stare as the Orale of Ages waved her fingers gently, a blue orb appearing in her grasp as a soft smile graced her delicate features. “Anything you’d like to see, baby brother?”

Violet eyes stared fixed on the orb, glistening slightly with wonder as the vet floundered, nearly spilling his cider only to be rescued by Four’s quick thinking as the smithy removed the mug from his grasp. “A-anything?”

“Anything.” The Oracle reaffirmed.

Legend stammered softly for a moment. “C-Could I see Raven? Where he is now?”

There was some murmuring from the others, curiosity and confusion in their tones as Nayru frowned. “Raven lived four-hundred years ago, Songbird, he’s dead now.”

“Oh- uh- I knew that.”

“I can show you what he was doing today four-hundred year ago though.” She laughed softly, spinning the orb in her hands slowly before turning it to face Legend. The veteran hero stared intently, brows furrowing slightly before his eyes widened and he was pushing back into the couch and away from the viewing orb.

“Oh yuck! Nayru! That- ew!” At the girls’ laugher he shot them all a glare. “I did not need to see a woman eating my mentor’s face!”

“That would be kissing.” Time smirked. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“That’s my ancestor though!”

“And I knew that would happen.” Nayru giggled. “That was a prank, here’s the actual thing.” A small child and a man looking suspiciously like Time appeared on the surface of the orb, both lying on the floor of what might have been a farm-house as the little one played with a few small toys, the man watching with a fond gaze as he relaxed, looking as if he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

“They look happy.” Legend hummed, gaze softening as he watched the duo a moment more before smiling up at his sister. “Thanks.”

The bluette smiled in return. “I accused yo twice though, so you may have a second. What else would you like?”

Anyone who was watching could see the conflicted emotions flying through Legend’s eyes as he stared at the now blank orb, the vet fidgeting with his rings and long sleeves as he gnawed his lower lip, torn about something that remained unknown to the others but clearly was tearing him up inside. At long last however, the vet’s voice, small and vulnerable, more so than they’d heard even when he was half asleep, spoke his request. “I’d like to see her.”

Ocean blue eyes softened as the Oracle nodded, spinning her orb slowly before handing it over to the vet as the scene of a beach crossed the surface of the ball.

A girl with curly red hair and sparkling eyes sat on the beach, voice rich and lovely as she sang ou a tune that had the vet’s eyes watering as he smiled as the vision, his brothers crowding close curiously as several of them muffled soft gasps.

“Marin?” The voice of a boy rang from the orb, gentle, uncertain and young, but resemblant of Legend’s own in an odd, gentle way.

“Link! Don’t startle me like that!” The girl laughed, shaking her head and making her curls bounce as she smiled over at a boy maybe a bit older than Wind.  The lad was dark haired, but pink showed through at his roots and while he carried a sword on his back, he looked relaxed and at peace with the world around him, face gentle and unmarred by worries or fears as he walked across the sand to where the girl sat. A dopey smile and light blush touched the kid’s face as the girl, Marin, gently patted the sand at her side. “Join me, you’re done running errands for everyone now, right?”

“For today.”

“Good.” The girl reached up, tugging ‘Link’ down next to her firmly. “Lay down.”

“What?”

“Lay down.” Marin ordered. “You need a break. You’re always running everywhere and helping eveyone else, you need a bit of time to yourself.”

A smile pulled at the boy’s features. “Yes ma’am.”

The girl snorted, but patted her lap and tugged at the green tunic of the other, resulting in him at last laying on the sand, head in her lap as she smiled down at him. “You’re going to rest now, because tomorrow is a busy day for us.”

“Oh?” Already there was a dreamy quality to the boy’s voice as he relaxed into the hold of the girl, her fingers tugging gently through tangled black hair as she nodded.

“Yes. We have to sleep in until nine, and then eat a big breakfast before taking a long walk on the shore. Then, you’re going to help me conquer a huge basket lunch before you can then defeat being awake for an hour. After that, we have to chase the tide until it tires, and then dance in victory over the ground that it’s lost.” The boy laughed softly, lashes already fluttering softly across rosy cheeks as the girl continued. “Then, you and I are going to sit here and watch the sun go down, and we will sing it to sleep along with the island until the sun comes up.”

“And what then?”

“And then we do as we please!”

“We build a fire.” The boy hummed. “And I’m going to make you cider so good you’ll be ruined for any of your silly teas.”

“Hey!” The girl huffed, purposefully jostling the lad’s head as she huffed down at him. “My teas are good!”

“Not as good as my cider.” The boy replied, opening one eyes to grin up at her, a cheeky smile on his face. “Just you wait, you’ll see.”

Marin shook her head, eyes glistening gently as she ran her fingers through Link’s hair again. “I suppose I will.”

The orb shattered as it hit the floor, dissipating instantly as the heroes collectively startled.

“Legend?” Four rested a hand on the vet’s shoulder, staring in concern at the other boy, who hid behind his bangs with a faint sniffle.

“Thanks , Nayru.”

“Do you want me to fix it? I can give you another-”

“No, I know what happens.” Legend waved her off, sighing heavily and offering a teary smile. “I just wanted to see her again.”

“Well then you should have said something!” Warriors exclaimed, catching the attention of all gathered as he stared at the vet, caught between a grin and a scowl “Had I known you were Marin’s prince charming I would have said something by now! For pities sakes, the girls have been trying to hunt down her world since the war ended!”

Legend blinked.

“She’s still not home?” Wind frowned. “But, it’s been months!”

“No one knew where she belonged, she didn’t even know, said she knew nothing of Hyrule’s history, only that there was a hero.” The captain shook his head. “Hard to believe the sweet hero she described is this here ass, but who am I to judge?”

“She’s alive?” Legend stared.

“Yes,” The captain smiled slightly, gaze warming as he met the vet’s. “But between Cia, Lana and Midna, we never-”

“Midna too!” Twilight exclaimed, pushing into Warriors’ line of vision with a shocked face and watching the captain immediately fly through every shade of shock imaginable.

“Love of the goddess...” Warriors breathed. “Both of you? The two famed sweethearts of my team are the biggest asses I know? You have got to be kidding me!”

The Oracles laughed, or in Farore’s case, cackled, at the plight of the captain, and the other heroes joined in.

“Wars, I’m not even mad.” legend chuckled, shaking his head, and Twilight nodded in agreement.  “But I will say this, we can’t get to your Hyrule soon enough, and when we get there, Time, know for a fact that I don’t need to wait till I’m older to understand that thing earlier.”

“Okay, that's just gross!” Wind exclaimed. “I do not want to see Legend kissing someone! That’s just- oh yuck!”

The vet threw his head back and laughed, and no one could really help but join in. Except Wind, who scrunched up his nose in disgust while Wild and Hyrule shared a confused look.

[space-mermaid-writing]

House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 2

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 2: Not the new kitchen help

You can now call a cozy apartment with two rooms and a nice bathroom your own. You have stored your things in the bedroom and are now looking around the tower. The living rooms seem to be spread over several levels. Either there are really a lot of people living here or they tried to keep a little space to avoid stepping on each other's toes all the time. Living and working together can be quite a challenge for some people. The floors above consist - judging by the signs - of labs and various development rooms. Most of it is probably technical stuff, but some of the doors also have concerning warnings, and you don't want to spend your first day trying to figure out if they're genuine.

You find the outdoor platform with the big A and see, then it’s connected to some sort of party or lounge room. There are several couch sets and a rather nicely equipped bar. Overall, everything is very spacious and you're sure you can walk around here for a few days without anyone noticing your presence. At least once, you think you've lost your bearings for a moment, but then you find your way back to the elevators. On the other hand, there was surprisingly little going on up here.

All floors below the living area seem to be offices, at least the names of the elevator buttons suggest that. You don't feel like visiting them right now, because the exploration tour has left you pretty hungry. The last meal was also your breakfast this morning and now it's almost afternoon. So you look for the room that interests you the most anyway. And you find it near the lounge: a wonderfully large kitchen with fantastic equipment. You explore it with interest and notice that it‘s visibly little used. Among the people and other beings here, there seems to be no one enjoying cooking. Saving the world probably takes up enough of their time. As you open the refrigerator, a voice suddenly comes from somewhere, startling you briefly at first. "Good afternoon, Miss Barton. If you have any requests regarding the food or ingredients, please let me know." You look around, but can't see anyone. "My name is JARVIS," the voice explains. "I am an A.I. and I am available to assist you." "Uh-huh...hello," you merely reply, processing this information. Jarvis, meanwhile, continues talking. "Welcome to the Tower. The other Avenger members have been notified of your arrival in a memo." "Okay, thanks." It‘s a bit weird talking to a room, but apparently modern technology has already reached the next level here. Hearing nothing more, you start inspecting the contents of the refrigerator. The result is quite sobering. "It's all just fast foods," you grumble. "Would you like to suggest changes in the selection?", Jarvis asks. "Yes! Please and thank you." "You're welcome to make a shopping list, and I'll have everything ordered." Why not? Regardless of whether a computer can really do it, you nod. "Okay." "A personal tablet will be calibrated for you. You can pick it up from Mr. Banner."

A few minutes later you find yourself in the labs on the upper floors. The sterile lit hallway reminds you much more of Shield than the lower floors. You turn a corner and have to go down some stairs that lead you into a large room. Here, tables are jumbled with various types of modern computers and equipment. Further back is a robotic arm soldering a hard drive all by itself with a quiet whir. It’s a dream for any technology enthusiast. From one corner, you hear typing and beeping, followed by quiet murmurs. That's where you turn, looking at the whiteboards on the wall along the way, where complicated calculations and drawings could be seen. Then suddenly, right in front of you, a hologram appears in the air and you stop, rooted to the spot. "Oops!" "Oh, sorry." A head pops up from behind a nearby screen and you recognize Bruce Banner. His face is always shown on the news whenever there's been a shot of Hulk. But now you're more interested in the hologram as you take a closer look. It shows a nebulous, pulsating entity. "What is that?" you ask the scientist. "We got some cosmic stones. This was in one of them." "It's moving. Is it alive?" "Living would be an exaggeration, but there is energy present. My name is Dr. Banner, by the way." He reduzes the size the hologram so it's out of your way. "Barton, nice to meet you." "Clint's sister, I read the file. He never mentioned you though." "I didn't want any attention, but didn't quite work out, I guess." Bruce smiles sympathetically and reaches for a cup of tea, which, judging by his expression after the first sip, seems to be cold. You ask for the tablet you came for, and Bruce looks around searchingly. There are a few of them in the room, but the display of one lights up, drawing your attention. You see your name displayed and simply conclude that it's the right one. Briefly you say thank and goodbye, before you go back to your room and start making a shopping list. Please fresh ingredients and please deliver today.

Afterwards, you browse around a bit. The tablet, like every electronic device in the house, seems connected to the main computer and to Jarvis. You pull up a few files on your new housemates and read them curiously. At least the parts that are publicly available. You also take the opportunity to look for your own name. Because even though you know that your records were officially destroyed when you left, you know that no data is ever really gone. So you're almost surprised when you find only a few sentences about yourself and not even a photo. Mainly it was about your and Clint's entry into Shield at a young age as orphans. You had received a pretty good education, which may have also kept you from going off the rails. Besides hand-to-hand combat and firearms training, your specialty was handling knives, while your brother took up bows and arrows. For foreign missions, you had also had to learn various languages and had chosen the widely spoken Spanish and Russian. But you didn't work for Shield for a long time, instead opting out of your career early on. It just wasn't the life you wanted to lead. So you changed cities and mingled with the civilian population. And before you knew it, your talent with a knife led you into a traditional apprenticeship as a chef. You enjoyed this work more than having to fight to death, and you even expanded your knowledge and skills during a year abroad in France. But there is very little of all this in your records.

You set the tablet aside and stretch out on your new bed. Normally, you would be in full swing at work right now. A glance at the clock reveals that it's already early evening. Rush hour in most of the restaurants. But here? Without a task or a plan, there's not much you can do. On the other hand, a little vacation wouldn't hurt you.

At some point, the tablet gave a soft ping and when you checked, it was a notification that the refrigerator and all the pantries had been restocked. By now you are very hungry and you heard nothing about a joint dinner time, so you decide to cook yourself something. Out of sheer habit and to avoid getting your clothes dirty, you put on a chef's jacket and apron you brought from home and go into the kitchen. There's a radio in one corner that you turn on. Jarvis really did get everything you had asked for. It was a dream come true. Now in a much better mood, you grab a pan and get to work. From the freezer, you pull out a fish, which you gut and fill with fresh herbs. It goes into the pan first. Then it's the turn of the potatoes, which are peeled, boiled and rolled in rosemary.

You're so absorbed in your work - you've just poked a knife into the boiling potatoes to see if they're already done - that you don't notice a visitor, who had entered the kitchen at some point, until he makes himself known. "I'll have the course menu and a white wine to go with it." Somewhat confused, you look up as you hear the man's voice and see Tony Stark standing at the sideboard across from you. He notices your look and returns it with a smile. "I didn't realize we hired a new kitchen help." You frown and take a sharpening rod in your free hand to sharpen your knife while not taking your eyes off Tony. "Oh, I'm not a new kitchen help," you clarify. "I'm a chef." "Excuse me. Then would the chef please serve me the course menu and a white wine?" The trillionaire indicates a polite bow, but you merely turn to the stove and take the potatoes off it. You then retrieve a plate from the cupboard. "Jarvis", you direct your voice to the computer, hoping it’s still listening. "Would you please explain to Mr. Stark that I'm not here to cook for him and that he'll have to order his course menu, if he really wants one, from the Chinese place next door?" "Mr. Stark, I'm supposed to-." "I heard her, Jarvis," Tony interrupts the A.I., eyeing you a little more closely now. "That does make me wonder what you're doing here, Miss...? Aside from the fact that there's no Chinese working next door." "Then you should make one move in there," you replay amused. As you do, you wipe your fingers on the cloth you've hung on the apron at your hip and prep your dish. Just as Tony is about to say something clever, the door opens and another person walks in. You recognize Thor at first glance. "What's that delicious smell in the air?", he asks, looking around curiously. You smile and point to the stove. "I was just cooking. There's still some left for you to take." With that, you want to go to your room, but Tony stops you. "Oh, he gets something, but I don't?", he complains. You shrug your shoulders. "He didn't want a whole menu." With that, you disappear through the door and go back to your living quarters. There you quickly change into something comfy and make yourself comfortable on the couch, where you watch an episode of your favorite show while you eat. A little company would be nice, but you don't feel like meeting more people you don't know yet. And you don't feel like searching for Natasha in this huge complex. So you’re fine with being by your own right own.

After dinner, you continue watching the show, but eventually you realize you're getting tired. It really had been an eventful and long day. So you quickly take your dirty dishes back to the kitchen. But just as you're closing the dishwasher, Tony comes back in and leans against the frame with his arms crossed. "So… you‘re a Barton." Apparently he had spent a few minutes of his precious time gathering information about you and then waited for you to reappear. "Surprised there's another one?" you ask with a smirk. He takes that as a sign that you're not holding a grudge against him. He pushes himself off the door frame and comes closer, now leaning his arms on the kitchen island. "Nothing about Legolas surprises me anymore. Met his wife and kids the other day. Nice family. Are you guys a whole circus?" "Not anymore." You shrug. "So, what’s your deal?", he wants to know. "You left Shield in your early twenties. What's normal life like out there? No one waiting for you to come home?" You turn on the dishwasher and grab a water bottle from the supply. "Life is nice. Often stressful, but I have to worry a lot less about getting killed." You don't answer Tony's last question. It's really none of his business. "That is when you're not being yanked out of that life and brought into the house of superheroes", you add. "You'll get used to it. Both that we're super and that we're heroes. I promise." You laugh at his words. Tony seems to be a real egocentric, but also a humorous person. "Well, let's see", you reply, "Now if the welcome speech is over, I'd like to go to bed." "I won't keep anyone away from their beauty sleep. Good night." You wish him the same, then head back to your room, where you make yourself comfortable on the large bed. The strange surroundings were unfamiliar, but not you don't feel uncomfortable and so you soon fall asleep.

[czenzo]

Misdial - Chapter II

[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ Epilogue ]

summary: Lucy, a newly-enrolled fine arts student at a London university, accidentally calls the wrong number and ends up getting to know a business student who also happens to be in the same city. Slowly but surely, they realise their lives are intertwined more than they initially thought, and soon they find their friendship may be evolving into something more. Or: After a chance phone call, Lucy and Lockwood spend the next few months pining after one another.

rating: G words: 1400

Anthony Lockwood is very much not enjoying the beginning of his second year at university.

It was a wonder he’d made it through the first, though he’d mostly motivated himself by saying that the first year was always going to be slow going, things would definitely pick up after, and then he’d finally find something about his course that interested him.

After two lectures delivered by Winkman, the most horrible lecturer in the department, on the first day of the term no less, he promptly decided that he was wrong and forewent the rest of the scheduled classes that day to nip into his favourite coffee shop and ignore the outside world for a while.

After a peculiar phone call from a stranger, and another one from his sister telling him that he’d better be attending his lectures or so help me God, I’ll bite your head off, he finishes off the slice of cake the barista gave to him on the house, (“Alright, Locky?” Flo had said as he walked through the door. And then, straight after, “You look miserable. ‘Ave some lemon drizzle.”) dusts the crumbs from his hands and lap, and reluctantly drags himself back outside after waving goodbye to Flo.

Back home at 35 Portland Row, he’s greeted by Jessica Lockwood in the hallway, getting ready to leave. She’s spent the morning and early afternoon at her teaching assistant job at a local school, and now, judging by the handbag full of neat notes and her laptop, has some work to do on her Master’s course. He catches a glimpse at some confusing looking handwritten notes, and it takes him a second to register that the reason he can’t decipher them is that it’s in Greek. Jessica had always been fascinated by languages and linguistics, so it was no surprise that she chose to get a degree in it. 

“Anthony,” she beams at him for a second, but then the smile drops from her face. “Don’t you have any more classes today?”

“No,” he replies smoothly; lying has become a talent of his over the years, “I’m all done for the day.”

“Oh! I’m jealous,” she slides her feet into heels that only Jessica Lockwood would casually wear to a lecture, and brushes back a stray lock of hair from her face. It falls perfectly back into position. 

“Lockwood,” their other housemate, George Cubbins, pops his head around the corner from the kitchen. “You’re back early.”

“My afternoon lectures were cancelled,” Lockwood grins and looks at him in a way that he hopes conveys his message of ‘shut up before you give anything away’ well enough. It does the job, as George simply nods and retreats into the kitchen.

“I’m heading over to the library soon,” he calls, “you can join me if you want.”

Before Lockwood can politely decline, his sister nods enthusiastically.

“A change of scenery will do you some good. You spend so much time in this house, Anthony.”

“I go to Flo’s a lot.”

Jessica opens the front door and gives him a pointed look. He only just stops himself from wincing at both the sudden gust of wind from outside and the look on his sister’s face.

“Go to the library, Anthony.” She throws him one last smile and is quickly gone, the door closing swiftly behind her.

“Yeah, Anthony,” George calls out, and without seeing him Lockwood can tell he’s smirking, holding back laughter.

“Shut up, George.”

*

The nearest library is a quick walk and a bus ride away, and is full of students studying much harder than Lockwood ever has at university. So full, in fact, that they struggle to find a free table to sit and study at. Just as Lockwood is about to open his mouth to put on an act of oh, it’s a shame there’s no space, we’ll just have to come back another time, George points to a couple of free chairs and makes a beeline for them.

As they approach, however, they come to the unfortunate realisation that the table is occupied by none other than Quill Kipps, the snobby third-year student doing the same course as Lockwood. George lets out an unapologetic scoff and makes himself at home on one of the chairs, much to Kipps’ chagrin.

“What are you doing?” His features are contorted into a glare of irritation.

“Sitting down,” George replies, hauling a notebook and two textbooks out of his bag.

“I can see that, Cubbins. What are you doing at my table?” 

“Revising.”

Kipps lets out a resigned sigh, and with a shake of his head, he’s back to poring over the books in front of him; he looks tired, and Lockwood can only see it as a vision of his own miserable future if he stays on this stupid management course.

Lockwood reluctantly takes a seat beside George and pulls out a notebook he’d only just remembered to bring with him. He hadn’t thought to bring textbooks or anything that would actually allow him to revise, so after a moment of staring at the blank pages in front of him, he hauls himself to his feet and goes in search of a book that’s related to the incredibly thrilling subject of Management Science. 

Eventually, he locates a textbook, the name of which he recognises from the helpful additional reading list he was given at the start of his first year, back when he was considerably more full of motivation and determination to do his parents proud. He settles back down at the table, where George is cleaning his glasses, and Kipps is angrily scribbling out a line of writing.

He opens the textbook. The contents page is nothing short of mind-numbingly boring, and it takes a moment of tapping a lively rhythm on the table with his fingernails to psyche himself up to flip the page and start reading.

He reads the first two lines, then realises he didn’t pay enough attention to the first one, so goes back and rereads it. He finishes the paragraph then rereads the whole thing to try and actually digest the words on the page, rather than simply skim over them.

He finally digests them on the third reread, and wants nothing but to spit them back out. All the business jargon leaves a bad taste on his tongue.

“I got an odd phone call earlier,” he decides he deserves a break from the taxing revision, resting his forearms on the table and tilting his head to look over at where George is devouring the text in front of him.

“Oh?” his friend replies, only half paying attention.

“From someone who misdialed her friend’s number. She was quite chatty.”

“What, you had a conversation with a complete stranger over the phone?”

“Yes, actually. It wasn’t half bad.”

George looks up at him for a second, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t look at me like that. Go back to revising”—he peers over George’s shoulder—“Latin America.”

“Speaking of Latin America,” George pushes back his chair, making a horrid screech resonate across the room, “I need to find a specific book on it. Be back in a sec.”

Lockwood stares silently at the space his friend had occupied seconds ago.

“The person who called you doesn’t happen to be a stubborn art student, does she?”

It takes Lockwood a second to register Kipps’ words. “You know her?”

Kipps shrugs. “I might.”

“How?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “What?”

The man opposite him makes a point of highlighting a long line of text, making it evident he’s done paying attention to the conversation.

“Kipps.”

“I’m trying to focus on this essay plan, Tony. Shut up.”

That’s an interesting development, Lockwood thinks to himself. There’s a small voice in the back of his mind that says hey, there’s a reason to call Lucy again, followed by a louder, more sensible one that says it’d be weird to call her; finding out they have a mutual acquaintance (not friend, Kipps is too much of a dick to have that title) doesn’t disregard the fact they’re still strangers. Strangers that happened to have a single conversation and will likely never speak again.

Still, his hand reaches down to pat the outline of the phone in his front pocket.

Then, with a quick stretch and a sigh, he sits up straight and forces himself to keep reading.

*

end note: for those wondering about the timeline, Lucy's uni started the week before Lockwood's. so while Lucy's already elbow-deep in assignments and projects, Lockwood is still mourning the loss of the summer on his first day of term. George is a history student at the same uni as Lockwood, Jess, and Quill, if anyone's curious.

[shelby-love]

FRED WEASLEY

Yule Ball Problems

Requested: yes (by anonymous)

Prompts: none

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.2K

Author’s note: I really like this request especially since the fourth movie is one of my favs, so thank you for requesting it! Just like George's one shot, this will be heavily inspired by the movie (I'm essentially putting the reader into the movie). Before proceeding, I highly recommend rewatching these scenes lol!

Gryffindor practice for the Yule Ball

Fred asks Angelina to the ball (obviously we're pretending it's George who asks her <3)

It was fairly rare to have the Gryffindors sit together in a room mastered by the head teacher. Nevertheless, the entirety of Gordic Gryffindor's current house members has gathered in the spacious room, a million things running through their minds.

McGonagall looked fierce as she appropriated the room like something very serious was going to happen.

Your thoughts seemed to be correct as she whisked her wand in the air, pulling you away from your boyfriend to stand on a completely different side of the room.

You frowned, Fred did too. He was just about to swoop in and kiss you.

"D-did she just?" You asked puzzledly, not quite believing your luck. A couple from seventh year were eating each other's faces in the corner, but she picked you and Fred instead?!

"Yeah," Hermione mused, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I think she did."

Fiercely blushing, you sat back down. "I cannot believe my luck."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. She herself has been appointed to stand with the girls on the other side, leaving her two best friends to themselves and the boys.

"This is the sixth time she has caught us," you told her, catching Minerva's eyes in that exact moment. You wouldn't be surprised if the woman heard you; she is a cat most of the time, and cats have significantly better hearing than humans do.

"The Yule ball has been a tradition of the-" Professor McGonagall attempted although her words were cut by Flinch as he plotted around the huge record player. "-Triwizard Tournament since its inception."

She shared nothing new.

So, what is she on about?

You glanced at your boyfriend, knowing which one out of the two he is immediately. Fred laughed with his twin about Merlin knows what, picking at Ron in the process. You shook your head, focusing your attention back to your head teacher.

"On Christmas Eve night," she continued, slowly walking in a straight line across the floor. "we and our guests gather in the Great Hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity."

Ginny leaned her head against her shoulder, getting bored. You smiled at the act, deciding to share her enthusiasm by mimicking it.

After a while of being stuck in a singular position you had decided to place your chin on the top of her head instead.

"As representatives of the host school I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward, and I mean this literally because the Yule ball is first and foremost..." The dreaded sentence was coming. You could see it in her facial expression. "A dance."

Ginny's head flew up suddenly, banging against yours so hard you had to hold your jaw in pain. "Oh Y/N, I'm so sorry!" she squeaked, palpably petrified with what she has done to her older brother's girlfriend.

"No, no," you waved your hand, testing your jaw by moving it in circular motions. "It's alright Ginny."

"But what if it gives you a bruise?" She asked frightened. "The ball is just around the corner!"

Your eyes widened at that and before you could soothe the girl, Hermione had butted in. "She'll be fine Ginny. Besides, Fred is so smitten by her he genuinely won't care."

"True," you added in agreement, holding your chin after wrapping your free hand around the smaller girl to cheer her up. Ginny calmed down and returned to her bright, usual self soon after.

The quick accident helped you better ignore the agonizing groans of the boys that generously outmatched the giggling. While most of the girls, including yourself, enjoyed the aspect of dancing with a gentleman, the boys didn't like the thought of becoming one so much.

You searched for Fred's eyes the second you could, finding him already looking at you from afar. He was quick in mouthing an 'Are you okay?' and pointing to his own jaw for better explanation.

You nodded but still mouthed an 'ow' for dramatics sake.

Fred knew his little sister's strength, but he also knew your pain tolerance and that made him less concerned. Fred then sent you a wink accompanied by a wicked grin of excitement. Being a couple played in your favor excellently.

Most of the girls feared being partnerless at the ball, so you felt very content with yourself. You secured yourself both an escort and a dance partner by just loving a boy that was able to be serious if you ever asked him to be.

"Silence!" McGonagall raised both her hands in the air, "The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard word for nearly 10 centuries."

She then continued, "I will not have you in the course of a single evening besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons."

"Babbling what now?" You asked in amazement. She was very creative with her words; you give her that.

From the corner of your eye you saw your boyfriend monkeying around with his brother, staying true to his teasing nature by making fun of McGonagall's words.

"Now. To dance is to let the body..." She took a deep breath as she said that, "...breathe. Inside every girl a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst free and take flight."

Fred's younger brother, Ron, decided to take that inspirational moment to comment about Eloise Midgen, a girl that was sitting very close to you, Hermione and Ginny. You shook your head, not liking his comment at all.

McGonagall heard it but finished her sentence nevertheless, saying something about boys having a lion inside of them. "Mr. Weasley."

Ron looked at her through a fringe of red hair, "Yes..."

"Would you join me, please." She was already by his side as she said that.

"I'd dance with that woman anytime." A girl from your year mumbled, creating quite big hysterics of agreement among the girls. You started to laugh, Ron's face and the girls' comments becoming too much for you to handle.

Ron on the other hand sat awkwardly and glanced around the room in which his housemates were all eagerly waiting for his slip, panicked beyond comprehension. Even Harry who had his arm bandaged due to being an actual contestant in the Tournament, eagerly pushed him up with his healthy one.

McGonagall had Ron in her vise hold. The poor boy couldn't go anywhere without making a complete fool of himself. The music started to play, and Fred and George were loving the sight in front of them as they kept throwing in whistles and remarks that made everyone smile. A years' worth of teasing material had just appeared without them doing so much as moving a finger to make it happen.

On the other side of the room, you weren't breathing. Literal tears formed in your eyes when Ginny made a joke on Ron's account.

"Everybody come together! Boys on your feet!"

You had coughed up your laughter immediately, although the giggles seemed to be a permanent thing. You stood to your feet and dashed across the room for Fred after hearing a fifth year tell her friend how she was going to ask him to partner up.

You leaped into his arms, relieved to have snatched him before anyone else could.

"Woah there, love," Fred mused, placing his hand on your waist like Professor McGonagall had instructed. While teasing his younger brother, Fred managed to pick up the essential parts of the dance because he didn't want to tramp all over your feet and have to carry you to Madam Pomfrey. "Thought I'd leave you hanging?"

Although Fred didn't mind hoisting you up into a princess-carry and acting out a heroic save, he was, quite frankly terrified of the wrath you would unleash on him if he was the reason you wouldn't be able to wear your heels to the ball.

"Actually," your laughter broke down as you two started to dance in steady pace around the room. "I didn't want you to partner up with someone else."

Genuine confusion crossed his features after that, "Come again?"

"I heard several girls talk about how they're going to ask you partner up with them," you mumbled just as the tune changed and he swiftly helped you twirl before pulling you back so you were flush against his chest. "Are you sure they weren't talking about George? He actually-"

"Is your name Fred?" You cut him off.

"Yeah..."

You gave him a look that said well-there-you-go.

"If it makes you feel any better," Fred whispered, voice raspy as he gripped your waist and pulled you against him as if you weren't already glued together before. His mouth slowly found its way to your neck and you shivered under the proximity. "I only have eyes for you."

You didn't get to enjoy the moment as you heard Ron scream, his lust for sibling revenge overtaking. "Professor, Fred and Y/N are snogging! It's kind of disgusting, actually!"

"Mr. Weasley! Miss Y/LN!"

"Not again!" Fred and you said simultaneously.

***

You sat in between Fred and Neville in the great hall, working mostly with Fred on an essay Snape had assigned for you during this study session. You talked quietly with Neville while at it too, sharing deep compassion as you helped answer some questions he had for you about Herbology, keeping professor Sprout out of your mouth as much as possible. You didn't want Snape to find out you were talking about a subject that wasn't his.

Ron's muttering was very much loud as he kept going on about how depressed he was. "Well maybe you should just get yourself a girlfriend then. Like me." Fred whispered proudly, eyeing Snape who was walking around the hall like a soldier.

You mimicked Fred's smirk and turned to Ron, "It's not as easy as it looks."

"Getting a girlfriend, you mean?" Ron said, his face falling into an ever deeper frown when you nodded. "Bloody hell... How is that supposed to help?"

"It isn't," you told him. "Fred's just speaking nonsense. Don't listen to him."

Your boyfriend just grinned, slinging his arm over your shoulder but taking it off as soon as Snape glared at it. You swallowed a bubble of laughter that threatened to slip past your lips.

Out of the blue, George scribbled something on a piece of paper, folding it and throwing it at Ron, apparently not trusting his voice to say whatever he wanted to out loud.

You watched as Ron read it through, turning to your boyfriend, the quill in your hand now long forgotten. "What did George write?"

"Get a move on or all the good ones will have gone." Fred whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as proof to you that he took no part in that message.

"Good ones..." you muttered mockingly. "Pig."

Fred laughed, stuffing his mouth into the sleeve of his shirt to muffle it. He then turned to his brother and told him what you thought of his message. George leaned behind Fred to scowl at you carefully, so Snape doesn't see.

You both stuck out your tongues to each other like kids at the same time and while you returned straight to work, the younger twin continued to converse with Ron. Eventually George threw a paper ball at Angelina and you watched as the paper ball flew past your eyes, missing you by a millimeter. George had made a good shot as the paper ball bounced off Angelina's body. It urged her to look at George as he acted out the question, "You want to go to the ball with me?"

Angelina nodded, surprising you.

"Seriously?" You asked your close friend.

"What?" She shrugged, "He's cute."

Your raised brow catched Angelina off guard. "And funny..."

"As long as you don't mistake him for Fred," You whispered, "I support it."

Fred chuckled next to you.

"I won't be going alone because believe it or not someone asked me!" Hermione exclaimed, most likely because of Ron. You weren't paying attention to either of them, only starting to do so when Hermione stormed across the hall to Snape and handed him her finished assignment. She turned to grab her things whilst putting Ron in his place. "And I said yes!"

"Please don't tell me Ron asked her to the ball as a last resort," You sighed once Hermione disappeared behind the doors.

"I'm afraid he did, love," Fred answered.

You shook your head at Ron in disappointment, "Fred, did I ever tell you how much I'm grateful for you?"

Fred's smile intensified as he shook his head. "No, I don't think you did."

For that, you listened to your gut and grabbed him by his red Gryffindor tie, pulling him to you until your lips connected. Unfortunately, the kiss lasted for only a second due to Snape crawling around the place like the snake he is, but the brief kiss still left you breathless. Left you wanting more. "Want to get out of here?"

"Mhmm," you said with an eager nod of your head. Your brain was mushed and you only had time to whisper to Neville where he could find the answers about the Bouncing Bulb he's been desperate to find more about before Fred pulled you to your feet and grabbed both your stuff. In return, you collected both Fred and yours assignment and stuffed them into Snape's arms. "Have a lovely day, Professor."

"As I said Ron," Fred said smiling, glancing at you and Snape. "Better go get yourself a girlfriend…before the good ones are taken."

"I think the bloody best one is taken already," Ron mumbled with a pout, every male close to him responding in agreement.

Fred winked at them all, a winning smirk plastered on his face as he grabbed your hand and eagerly pulled you outside to do whatever your hearts desired in that moment.

MASTERLIST

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[yapperlesbian]

a fix-it fic/drabble (???? i might write more if people want it and post it to ao3) for acosf because i got through 7 chapters and gave up. it was that bad. i worked really hard on this so feedback is very much appreciated <3

Exiles of Light and Flame

Nesta was being sent to the human lands as punishment by her sister and her mate. No, she was being banished. Banished to a place where she was feared and forced into isolation. Her sister hadn’t even bothered to drop her off herself, she’d had Morrigan do it. The blonde hadn’t made the trip pleasant, to say the least. She knew that Lucien and his human friends had taken up residence in the area, she just didn’t expect it to be so far of a walk. Nesta rubbed her hands together to keep the biting wind at bay. Perhaps she should’ve worn a thicker jacket.

“Nesta.” Lucien greeted her with a guarded nod, stepping aside to allow her in. He didn’t ask why she was there or how she got there. He simply led her to the sitting room where Jurian and Vassa were sitting on an atrocious pink couch. The couch was gaudy and loud and unlike anything Feyre would’ve chosen to decorate with. Her lips upturned in a small smirk at the thought. Maybe a banishment to the mortal lands wouldn’t be the torture she’d first imagined.

“That’s an ugly couch. I like it.” It was the first thing she said. Blunt and rude, something her sisters found disgraceful. Jurian barked a laugh at her comment, obviously not taking it to heart. She tilted her head to the side in calculation, gauging their reactions to her presence.

“Nesta Archeron. No longer welcome among the Night Court, I presume.” Jurian was more perceptive than he let on. Nesta wondered if spending all that time on Amarantha’s finger had taught him how to find hidden emotions and intentions.

She’d heard Feyre speak of the three of them before, disdain evident in her tone. Lucien and his new human friends called themselves the Band of Exiles. It was a better name than Court of Dreamers but Nesta knew better than to voice that opinion to her sister and her temperamental mate. Sometimes she forgot that her sister had once been human. That she had once been human. That life seemed so far away now, not that it was only two years prior.

“Do I get a room?” Nesta had decided she’d stay awhile, if they’d have her. Though she was fairly certain none of them actually owned the home they were residing in. Jurian and Vassa exchanged a look, with each other and then Lucien. Lucien who had only said one word to her, her name.

“I’ll show you to it.” He finally breathed, his auburn hair resembling living flame beneath the faelight. He wasn’t what she expected, what she remembered. His steps weren’t deep and commanding like the Illyrian males of her sister’s new family, instead they were quiet and calculated. She followed him silently, unbothered to find conversation to fill the silence.

Nesta nodded a thanks as she entered her new room, shutting the door and catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She ran a finger through her long hair, it surprisingly still holding a semblance of shine despite her horrid eating habits. It was the High Fae genes she now had that kept it so. Her pointed ears came into view, a stark contrast to the ears she had grown up with. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to them, to her new body. Nothing felt like it was her own anymore, especially not the power she’d stolen and kept buried deep inside. She needed a change, something to take control of.

~

It was Jurian who found her digging around in the kitchen searching for scissors, arriving just in time to see her hold them up triumphantly. He chuckled at the sight, his eyebrows raised in question.

“I’m cutting my hair.” Nesta explained, not that she owed him an explanation. She didn’t owe explanations to anyone. Her sister and her husband didn’t agree with that sentiment. Hence, her banishment. “Well, I was going to ask Vassa to do it. I saw that she cut hers.”

“I cut her hair.” Jurian corrected, holding his hand out for the scissors. Nesta clutched them closer, unsure at the prospect of the former general cutting her hair. “Her Majesty would hack your hair, you think she’s ever lifted a pair of scissors herself? There’s no one to cut hair for you on the battlefield, you learn to do it yourself.”

Nesta nodded, handing over the scissors and plopping herself into one of the dining chairs. When Jurian asked how short, she pointed to halfway up her neck. She wasn’t expecting how much lighter she felt the more he snipped away. It was like she had been tied to a weight upon the ground and she was finally freeing herself.

Elain would have fainted at the sight of most of her hair upon the floor. What Cassian would think of it briefly drifted across her mind before she shut it down. He had agreed to send her here, to uproot her small sense of normalcy and send her away. She wouldn’t forgive that. She couldn’t forgive that.

~

If Lucien was surprised at her dramatic hair change, he didn’t show it at breakfast. She was surprised at the comradarie he shared with Jurian, treating the human as an equal. She still remembered how her sister and her court had looked down upon her when she was human, how they still did. How they reviled her with fear and distaste. An embarrassment to our reputation, Feyre had said. As though the Night Court wasn’t already hated long before her.

“Your eggs are getting cold.” Lucien reminded her with a surprisingly warm tone, taking her out of her thoughts once again. Jurian had since left the room, something she hadn’t even noticed. She pushed around her eggs and took a small bite.

“Thank you, for breakfast and for letting me stay here.” She forced a small smile, taking another bite of the eggs before pushing the plate away. Lucien didn’t comment on her barely touched plate, he simply took it and added to the pile of dishes he was washing.

“It’s no problem, wouldn’t want you out on the streets.” Lucien shrugged as he washed the dishes, looking up to meet her eyes. The scar across his metal eye was striking in a surprisingly handsome way. It was only then that she’d noticed he had tied back half of his hair. It wasn’t a bad look on him, he almost looked relaxed. “There’s a library in the house, second door on the left from the foyer.”

The red-headed male remembered how she had spent most of her time within the House of Wind. She was so sure no one was paying any attention to her there. Although his reasons for remembering could have to do with the fact that she was often with Elain then. She nodded and headed towards the library, it was empty when she stepped inside but magically warmed like the rest of the house.

Nesta ran a finger along the spines of the books, feeling which books were more worn than others. Whoever had previously owned the home had an extensive collection. It had been a while since she had read anything, too busy trying to bury her thoughts beneath alcohol. She picked a random one with a worn spine, her dress falling over her feet as she curled up in one of the chairs.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but soon she noticed the laughter coming from the living room. Vassa must have returned for the evening. A glance outside confirmed it, catching the end of the sunset. It was her plan to avoid her new housemates and retreat to her room but then there was a knock at the door.

Somehow the knock sounded and felt so familiar, but it couldn’t be. She hated herself a little for hoping that maybe it was the person she thought it was. That he’d come to save her. That he had defied his High Lord and decided she was worth it, even after how she’d treated him since the war.

Lucien got to the door before she could make herself move, opening it to find a broad shouldered Illyrian male. Nesta peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of him. When Lucien stepped aside, she saw what he was holding and the hope in her heart shattered. Cassian was here, but he wasn’t here for her. He was here to bring the last of her things and to be rid of her. Nesta didn’t need to listen to any explanations or ramblings, she didn’t have it in her. So, instead she turned her back on Cassian and walked away.

[plant-flwrs]

I love your writing! Can you do a reader x fred where the reader’s whole family (like siblings) is slytherin except her and she’s in gryffindor and you can do whatever with it thank you!

rivalries as old as time // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: omg i’ve never written mean!george this was kind of scary hehe. n e way, hope u like it! thanks for ur request!

summary: Fred and George are usually united on everything, but Fred’s crush on Draco Malfoy’s sister is definitely something they disagree on.

(5k)

---------

You had never liked red, and as you fidgeted with your red tie for the fifth time, you felt an elbow to your side.

“Stop,” Fred Weasley whispered from beside you, sending a scowl your way, “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting from what? You have no intention of taking notes,” you said, looking at both his and your blank parchments in front of you.

“Distracting from my daydreams,” he said easily, leaning forward on his desk to rest his forearms against the wood, “I need to focus on them, they’re just getting good.”

“What’re they about?” you asked, hoping to sound rude. Fred looked at you in the corner of his eye, and he was regrettably forced to admit that your signature Malfoy smirk was insanely attractive.

“Oh you know,” Fred said, copying your actions to lean back in his chair, “ the usual. Trolls and Gremlins.”

The both of you slouched in your chairs, arms crossed, ignoring the awfully boring lecture Professor Binns was giving.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed by Fred. Your gaze drifted across the room, trying to find something entertaining for your crystal gray eyes to focus on.

Fred, meanwhile, was internally slapping himself. Trolls and Gremlins? That was so stupid!

He watched your blonde hair fall from where it was loosely tucked into a headband, and you brought a mindless finger to put the hair back. He watched your simple movements, entranced by you.

You and Fred didn’t get along. You are a Malfoy, and he’s a Weasley. But still, somehow, you both always found yourselves thinking of the other.

History of Magic was his favorite class, because of you.

You and Draco had crossed paths on the way to lunch, and he walked briskly over to you, dismissing some of his Slytherin friends. You paid no mind to their scowls and figured they felt so angry because Gryffindor was playing Slytherin next week on the pitch.

“Has mum sent an owl to you this week?” Draco asked, craning his neck a little to look at you. His growth spurt hadn’t struck him yet.

“Oh!” you said, beginning to dig through your bag, “Sorry, forgot about it.”

You pulled a small parcel from your bag, handing it to your brother. The two of you were nearing the Great Hall, where you would have to split and go your separate ways.

“What is it?” you asked, feeling an obligation to be nosy in your little brother’s business.

“Some ink,” Draco said lazily, tucking the package into his own bag, “it’s my lucky ink.”

“Why? Is it enchanted?” you asked, and then lowered your voice, “Is that how you get such high marks?”

Draco smiled at your compliment and shook his head no.

“No, I get those because I study,” he said flatly, a dig at the fact that you excelled more on the Quidditch pitch than the academics.

You jokingly narrowed your eyes at him, and just before he walked to the Slytherin table, you reached out and ruffled his gelled hair. His joking stature quickly turned serious, and you broke into a jog to get to the Gryffindor table and away from Draco. You watched him attempt to smooth back his hair, chuckling as you slid down on the bench, a few seats away from Fred and George.

Fred was hunched over a poorly drawn drawing that George pointed to continuously while he talked.

“If we took that one corridor, there's that curtain that leads here,” George said, moving his finger to the right, “and then we can easily get back in time!”

You didn’t bother to ask, knowing George wouldn’t tell you. As much as you and Fred would get into little arguments, George had it out for you. Despite being his housemate, it was a known fact that you were the target of his pranks. Last year, he had snuck into the girl's Quidditch changing rooms and stole your clothes. You had to beg Fred from where he stood on the outside of the tent to make his brother give his clothes back, and when that didn’t work, you waved your wand and said “Accio clothes”. George had never run so fast up a hill, and he still couldn’t escape your wrath.

You pulled a sandwich from the tray in front of you.

“Malfoy,” Oliver Wood said, catching your attention.

“Yeah?” you said, taking a large bite of your sandwich.

“Did you look over that play I sent you?” Oliver asked, referring to the crumpled note he had tossed at the back of your head during Charms.

“Yeah,” you said, chewing and fishing in your bag for the note.

You pulled it out and saw Fred looking towards you. You looked at him before returning to Oliver. You unfolded the paper and Oliver hunched over it as George had done down the table.

Oliver’s hands were all over the simple drawing, his words getting lost in your boredom. You loved Quidditch, but god, could Oliver be boring.

“What are you two talking about?” both of your heads snapped up to see Fred forcing himself between the two first years that sat across you.

Oliver handed him the paper, pointing at all the meanings of the symbols.

“This,” he finally said, catching his breath, “is how we’re gonna beat Slytherin next week.”

Your weeknights were spent with Oliver, both of you ranting on about strategies while also trying to get done some homework. You occupied a wooden table that was usually used for chess, but the board was moved over to the coffee table where Ron and Harry played.

Fred watched, nearly pouting, from his spot on the couch. He watched the way your light eyes would brighten at the words Oliver said to you, and how you would blush every time he offered you a compliment on your playing.

“Ready for practice tonight?” Fred said, sliding up next to you as you waited outside of Binns’ classroom.

“Yeah,” you said absentmindedly, picking at your nails.

“George and I won’t take it easy on you,” Fred said, his veiled attempt at sounding threatening failing.

“Oh, Fred,” you said, faking a shake in your voice, “you don’t mean that.”

Fred rolled his eyes at your teasing, following after you as you walked to your shared desk.

Both of you came down the Gryffindor stairs at the same time, dressed in your practice jerseys and equipment in hand.

You glanced at him and caught his eyes looking you up and down. You chuckled to yourself, and his face flushed red.

You walked through the portrait hole with Oliver, and Fred watched you as he waited for George.

The two of them twisted and tossed their beater bats from hand to hand as they were perched on their brooms. You and Alicia faced off near the ground, hovering stoically. It was no competition, you were a better flyer than Alicia. She nearly had you matched in the power of her arm, but you still had the upper hand.

Fred bit his lip as you extended yourself to reach for the Quaffle. Your legs were the only thing keeping you on the broom, but you didn’t pay any mind to the unsteadiness. The only thing you thought of was the play Oliver had ingrained in your mind the past week. You repeated his critiques in your head and made sure to fix your grip on the Quaffle.

Alicia trailed after you, and you dove under Angelina to avoid her grasp. They were both trailing after you now. Alicia was nearly taken off her broom by a Bludger, and risking a glance upwards, you saw Fred’s triumphant smile. It was lucky that Fred was on your team for this practice because George had a nasty habit of failing to block Bludgers from hitting you.

Nearing near the goal post, you easily wound your arm back and sent the Quaffle right past Oliver. He slapped his gloved hands on his broom and sent you a proud smile.

The practice continued, and you weren’t hit with a Bludger the whole time, no matter how many George sent at you. Fred was always there to send them off, and send you a wink after he did it. You won the practice scrimmage, but Alicia put up a good fight.

“We have this,” Alicia said, beaming at you as she shed her heavy robes in the changing room.

“If we don’t I think Oliver’ll have an aneurism,” you joked, pulling on a loose t-shirt.

Angelina chuckled, and Alicia continued to beam.

“Really lucky Fred saved you from all those Bludgers,” Katie Bell teased from behind you.

“George has got it out for me,” you said nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Yeah, but, Fred sure kept you safe,” she continued to hint, but it went over your head.

“Well yeah, we can’t have an injury two days before the match,” you said, closing your locker and shuffling the combination.

Alicia rolled her eyes, and Angelina laughed.

“Yeah, that’s why,” Katie said, giving up.

You walked up the path to the castle and saw a clan of black robes walking down the path. You saw blond hair that matched yours peaking from one of them.

“Draco!” you called to your brother, breaking into a jog to reach him.

“Hey,” he said, breaking off from his Slytherin teammates.

“Are you guys ready for the match?” you asked excitedly.

Draco huffed out a defeated sigh, crossing his arms.

“No,” he admitted, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his housemates couldn’t hear him, “we bloody suck.”

You fought the cheeky smile that crept onto your face.

“Oh, that’s rotten, Draco,” you said, beginning to walk back down the hill with him, “I’m sure you’ll play your best.”

“I’ll try,” he said, beginning to shoo you off, “go do your homework.”

You rolled your eyes at your brother and waved him off, setting back up the castle.

The day of matches was always nerving, but it was even worse when it was against Slytherin. It felt like everyone in the school wanted you, needed you, to beat them.

You and Oliver sat shoulder to shoulder, both trying to get the other to eat something for breakfast. You both claimed to be too nervous, and then the other would say “that’s ridiculous, you have to eat!”.

Walking to the pitch, Harry Potter trailed behind all of you. You watched the twins stop to reach him, each wrapping a comforting and brotherly arm around his shoulders. You smiled to yourself, slipping into the changing room with the rest of the girls.

The crowd was roaring. It had never been this loud. Various chants sounded off, and you soon realized that someone in the Slytherin crowd learned a charm to louden their voice. Hateful words about Harry spouted from the green stands, and boos countered the Slytherin statements from the blue, yellow, and red bannered stands.

Taking the field, you hovered in front of Adrian Pucey as you had hovered in front of Alicia. Alicia was much nicer to look at, you thought, and she was a better player.

Pucey was barely moving before you soared off with the Quaffle tucked under your arm. You avoided the Slytherin chasers easily, twisting and ducking on your broom with the Quaffle on you like it was a third arm attached to your body. Cheers sounded off as you faked out Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey, making them dive into each other and nearly sending them off their brooms.

You looked back, seeing Alicia wide open behind you. You glanced forward, the Slytherin keeper braced for your shot. You slowed, allowing Alicia to come to your side. You made a seamless pass to her that the keeper hadn’t noticed, and while he looked at you, Alicia came from the left and scored. You met her to high five, your arms outstretched.

Fred dove to you, following a very determined Bludger. His bat was nearly touching it, nearly about to send it off its path towards you. He was just about to reach it when you dove. Fred and the Bludger soared past you, and the Bludger redirected itself. Doing a loop, and seeing that you were no longer there, it went for the next best thing. Alicia barely had time to brace herself before the Bludger knocked her shoulder out of its socket. The painful injury only caused a short interruption, but she had some choice words for Fred and George for failing to hit the Bludger sooner.

After that one incident, the game continued in the same fashion. You and Alicia flew circles around the lacking Slytherin Chasers, and Oliver blocked nearly everything they sent at him.

The cheers from the crowd stayed consistent for the entire match. There was never a silent moment from any house. A renowned gasp fell across the crowd, though, as Draco changed direction quickly. He turned the end of his broom straight up, and with an outstretched hand, Harry was breathing down Draco’s neck. You watched your brother, his blond hair flying off his face, his long arms reaching out into the sky. You didn’t feel bad for rooting for Draco, because even if he caught it, you were so ahead it wouldn’t have mattered.

Draco’s pale fingers eventually did wrap around the snitch, and without thinking, he let go of his broom in the haste of catching the little thing. He began to fall from the sky, and you watched as his legs and arms flailed around him. His broom fell faster than he did, and you flew to him. You were pulling your wand from your boot when someone had beat you to it. Draco hung suspended in mid-air, his body limp. He raised his head, and you saw his ghostly cheeks flushed pink. He looked around, patting his body to check if he was still alive. When he realized he was, he raised his hand into the sky, showing the golden snitch. The green section roared with laughter, but Lee Jordan’s voice halted them.

“Just a reminder! The Gryffindor team still wins!”

Cheers from every other section sounded off, and you felt a pang of guilt in your heart. You could be a Slytherin, you should be a Slytherin, and here you were apart of one of the houses that cheered for your brother's losses.

You flew to Draco, watching as he tucked the snitch into his robe pocket. You hovered, and he climbed onto the back of your broom. You looked around to see who had saved him, only to see Fred’s smug smile above you. George hovered next to his brother, scowling at Fred. You watched Fred tuck his wand back into his robes, giving you a shy wave. You smiled back at him, a silent thanks for the help.

You flew Draco to the ground, where he collected his broom.

“You were great, Dray,” you said, clapping him on the back, “really.”

“We lost,” he spat at you, cringing from your touch.

“Yeah but that’s not your fault.” you consoled him, watching his face soften, “You did your job, you caught the snitch.”

Draco nodded at you, offering you an appreciative smile. You wrapped an arm around his shoulder and squeezed briefly, then sending him off to his sulking Slytherin team captain.

Oliver was already running towards you, arms outstretched.

“Y/n!” he called, and you smiled widely at him.

“You were amazing, Wood,” you called to him, letting him envelop you in a hug.

He pulled you over to the huddle of your teammates, and they were all beaming.

“Wasn’t Potter this time, was it?” Lee Jordan called from his place in the spectator box, “Y/n Malfoy, the best Chaser Gryffindor’s got!”

You blushed wildly at Lee’s exaggerated praise, ducking your head as your teammates all cheered for you.

Fred and George came tumbling from the sky, landing ungracefully on the ground.

“Think this calls for a party?” Fred asked, and everyone’s cheers increased.

The common room was transformed into an even more red and gold haven. Maybe red was growing on you.

You were standing at the center of a huddle, everyone’s glasses raised. Oliver had just made a quite longwinded speech, to which you cut off with:

“Let’s drink to that!”

Cheers came from everyone around you, and you brought your firewhisky to your lips.

“I still don’t get why you did that,” George shouted at his brother, his words slightly slurred. George never could handle his liquor.

“It was her brother, mate!” Fred shouted back.

“He’s a Malfoy! And so is she! Freaks, the lot of them!” George yelled, and the statement trailed over the crowd and to your ears.

You turned to look at the twins, meeting George’s disgusted face.

You pushed through the crowd and put yourself between the brothers, bringing your face to George’s.

“What’s your problem?” you shouted, and he cringed away from the loud noise.

“You!” he shouted back, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You’re a prick,” you said to him, sounding poisonous, “a drunk prick.”

George scoffed and brought a hand to your shoulder. He shoved you away, and you tumbled into Fred. Fred’s arms were around you before you could lunge at George as if he read your mind.

“Let me go!” you shouted to Fred, thrashing against him. George stood in front of you, taunting you. He waved his drink around, his drunken expression full of arrogance.

“I can’t!” Fred called out to you, then to George, “George, stop!”

George rolled his eyes and tossed back the rest of his drink. He stumbled off to somewhere else, leaving you in Fred’s grasp.

He felt your heavy breathing against his chest, your warm arms in his hands.

“You alright?” Fred spoke into your ear, his mouth moving against your hair.

“Yeah, I’m fine, you can let me go,” you said, wiggling from his grasp.

Fred hadn’t wanted to let you go, but he figured it would be odd if he kept you pulled against him.

“He didn’t mean that,” Fred started, but you waved him off.

“Yes he did,” you said. starting to walk away.

Fred reached out for you, pulling you back.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said, his eyes searching yours.

“Stop, Fred,” you said, pulling your arm from his hand again, “None of you Weasley’s have liked me since the day I was sorted into Gryffindor. It didn’t even matter who I was.”

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed at your statement, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything but sympathy as he looked at your hurt expression.

“That’s not true, Y/n,” he started, but you turned again. He didn’t stop you that time.

Your mood was ruined. You filled your cup with more firewhisky, but at the bottom of each glass, all you could see was George’s disgusted face.

You had never done anything to the Weasleys, but that never stopped the redheads, or their friends, from sending you glares any time they saw you. You felt torn, torn by the unnaturalness of you being in Gryffindor, being away from your brother. You were torn by the fact that you felt weren’t even wanted by Gryffindor. No matter what you did, it was never right.

You remembered watching Draco get sorted, his baby-faced wonder as he sat on the stool with his legs crossed at the ankles. You had hoped, you had even prayed, that Draco would be sorted into Gryffindor. When that house was called out, though, the table of green erupted, and you watched your brother be swept off by your rivaling house.

George would never understand this, he would never see you as anything but a Malfoy, a pure-blood supremacist. You weren’t what your family was, you didn’t care about blood status, but no one cared.

Your anger seethed, watching George having fun, dancing with Angelina. Your grip on your cup tightened, and you wanted more than anything to go up to him and throw what was left of your drink into his face. You started over to him.

Fred intercepted you, having been watching you intently the whole night.

“You don’t want to do this,” Fred said, trying to calm you down as he blocked your path to his brother, “wait ‘till morning, then you can scream at him all you want.”

You could only shake your head, trying to move pasted Fred. You didn’t want to do this in the morning, you wanted to do this now, while the warm anger moved through your blood as fast as the whiskey did.

Fred’s hands gripped your upper arms, holding you in place.

“Let me go, Fred,” you mumbled, teeth gritted.

“I can’t, Y/n,” he said, searching for your eyes like he was begging you to look at him.

“He can’t always get away with it,” you whispered, feeling your anger turn into sadness. You had refused to cry about George or anything he said in your first year, but it seemed that now was your breaking point.

“He won’t, I promise,” Fred whispered back, trying to sound reassuring. He found it hard, his heart hurting at the sight of you so upset.

“He always does!” you exclaimed, your voice breaking. Your eyes were still dry, but the pounding in your chest felt like a heart attack.

“Well, he won’t this time,” Fred replied, bringing his face to yours so you had no choice but to look at him, “I’ll make sure of it.”

You met his eyes, and he saw the hopeful glint in them. He offered you a kind smile, his lips stretched across his face. You nodded at him, relaxing in his grasp. You didn’t try to move from it, and you didn’t want to. You felt safe in Fred’s arms.

“Oi!” George called from behind Fred.

Fred turned, putting you behind his back and himself between you and George. You pushed and pulled, trying to get in front of him and to George, but he was too strong.

“Fred, when are you going to get over this?” George asked his brother, downing the last of his dark drink.

“Shut up, George,” Fred warned, trying to push you and him away from George.

“I’ve told you a million times, mate,” George started, “Malfoys and Weasleys don’t belong together.”

Fred was on top of George in seconds. He was wrestling him to the ground and putting him in a headlock.

You put a hand over your mouth, watching as they fought. You replayed George’s words, “Malfoys and Weasleys don’t belong together”. Was this simple brotherly teasing, or did Fred have feelings for you?

Katie and Alicia found you in the crowd, and you hadn’t even realized what you were doing as they pulled you off of Fred and George. You had grabbed Fred’s shoulders, trying to pull him off his brother, but they thrashed against your grip.

Alicia and Katie were guiding you up the girl's dormitory stairs, pushing you towards the bathroom as your face became green with nausea. Katie held your hair, rubbing your back as you emptied your breakfast and what looked to be an entire bottle of firewhisky.

You groaned, moving to rest your back on the wall in front of the toilet. Katie flushed the vomit, closed the lid, and sat in front of you.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her kind voice inviting you to tell her all about your insecurities and worries.

Alicia came in right at the part of you feeling guilty for not being Slytherin, and Angelina stumbled into the dorms at your conclusion of what George said about Weasleys and Malfoys.

The girls consoled you, assuring you that you had every right to be in Gryffindor and that George was just a prick.

“What’d you think he meant by that?” Katie said, testing your reaction, in reference to what George said.

“I dunno,” you grumbled, moving yourself to lay down on the ground. Alicia moved, grabbing your shoulder and making you stay upright.

“Could it mean Fred,” Alicia spoke like a kindergarten teacher, and your drunken self giggled as she spoke, “likes you?”

You gasped, your head falling back to hit the wall.

“No way,” you mumbled, and when Katie started giggling next to you, you did too.

When Fred finally made his way up the girl's stairs, bypassing the detouring charms, he heard loud and manic giggles coming from your dorm. He opened the door but found the beds empty. The door to the bathroom was open, and the sound came from there.

“Hello?” he said, rasping his knuckles on the door frame.

The four girls on the ground, all looked up at him with bright smiles, all saying at the same time: “Fred!”

Fred’s eyes went to yours immediately. He smiled as his name fell from your drunken lips, admiring the twinkle in your silver eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked, moving to crouch in front of you.

The other girls got the hint, and filed out of the bathroom, all mumbling something of good luck to you.

“Yeah,” you replied, still smiling.

Your eyes focused on his face, and you saw a nasty cut on his lip. It bled a little to the corner of his mouth and down his jaw, stopping just above his shirt collar.

Your smile dropped, and you brought a hand to his jaw, “Are you alright? You’re bleeding, Fred.”

He brought a hand to his lip, and when he pulled it away he saw blood. You pushed yourself to your feet, wobbling a little as you stood. You got a wad of toilet paper and wet it a little in the sink. You put your hands on Fred’s shoulders, telling him to be still.

He closed his eyes as you dragged the paper over his jaw and dabbed at his lip. Once you got the blood off, you got a dry piece of toilet paper and ran it back over his jaw again. He suppressed the groans he wanted to release, forcing his hands not to reach out and grab your waist. Once the trail of blood was gone, you used a finger to tilt his face up. You ran your fingers over where the blood had been, making sure you got it all. Fred’s mouth opened a little at the touch, and he sighed heavily. You let his face drop back to yours, and looked at him. His mouth still had some blood in the corner. You wet the pad of your thumb with your tongue and cupped Fred’s face. You brought your thumb to the corner of his mouth and swiped your finger across his lip. This time Fred wasn’t able to suppress the moan that came from his chest. Your hand still rested on his shoulder, and your hand still held his jaw.

“Did George do this?” you asked, fearful of his response.

“Must have,” Fred whispered back to you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, dropping your hands from Fred and turning your back to him, “I shouldn’t have gone over to him.”

“Hey,” Fred said, wrapping a hand on your waist and pulling you into him, “George deserved that. You should see the shiner I gave him.”

“I can’t let you fight your brother like that,” you whispered, putting a hand on his chest and feeling his beating heart, “you two don’t fight like that.”

“I don’t care. I’ll fight him every day until he gives you a chance,” Fred replied, bringing a hand from your waist to the back of your neck.

When he began to pull your face closer to his, you pulled back a little, still in his embrace.

“I can’t kiss you,” you said, a teasing smile on your face.

“Why not?” he pouted.

“I just threw up, it’s gross.”

Fred dug in his pocket for a second and pulled out a tin. It was one in the packaging of one of his products, but he assured you they had yet to be charmed to make people’s tongues swell.

“I don’t know,” you dragged, twisting the small mint in your fingers.

“Why would I prank you right now? You have no idea how much I want to kiss you,” he took the mint form your hand and put it in your mouth for you.

He was right, it was just a regular mint. The taste of vomit was gone, and after you chewed it, Fred barely wasted a second before he pulled you into him.

He kissed you hard, despite having a busted lip. When you ran your tongue over it, he winced, and you pulled back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, bringing your hand up to it and touching his lip. His hand grabbed yours, and he placed gentle kisses to each of your fingertips. His hand moved to your palm, to your wrist, and up your arm. His mouth ran over your shoulder, which he pulled your shirt back from, and up your neck. His lips finally connected with yours again, and you let out a pleased moan.

Fred pushed you against the counter of the sink, and you wrapped your hands in his hair. The feeling of nausea hit you very quickly, and you pulled away from Fred. You doubled over, trying to will yourself from throwing up.

“Oh god,” you started, and Fred rushed to your side, “I’m gonna throw up again.”

“What? Was it the mint? Are you alright?” Fred protested as you pushed him on his back out of the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind him.

You threw open the toilet seat and emptied what was left in your stomach. Flushing, you closed the lid and sat on it. You pulled your wand from your waistband and unlocked the door. Fred came in hesitantly, and when he saw you were fine, he lifted you off the toilet by the hand.

“Come on,” he said, guiding you out of the dorm.

“I don’t wanna go back to the party,” you mumbled, pulling his arm closer to you as you held onto it.

“You’ve been up there for ages, the party’s long over,” Fred assured, pulling you down the stairs.

Cups littered the ground, and abandoned streamers hung from the ceiling. A banner Dean Thomas had made hung lopsided on one side of the room.

Fred pulled you to the couch, bringing a blanket over you.

“Do you want anything?” he asked, and you laughed at his nurturing actions.

You were about to say no, but the rumbling of your stomach convinced you otherwise. You had emptied everything you had eaten, and you were hungry.

Fred snuck to the kitchens easily, making the same trek he made nearly every other night. He brought you back some sandwiches, but when he slipped through the portrait hole, he found you asleep on the couch.

Your breathing was even, and your mouth hung open a little. You curled into the couch, tucking your legs up to your chest.

He put the sandwiches on the table next to you and moved your body to the left. He curled up next to you, pulling the blanket over the both of you. He spooned you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and your hand found his under the blanket.

For the first time, you felt at home in the Gryffindor common room.