#also i am not sure how uptight or not the author may be

[rebloggingrexan]

^link to paper if anyone would like it. i'm not sure, but you may need a college account to get it for free.

also, here's a link to an imgur page that screenshotted the dog names. this should be available for free to everyone

ALSO I DID ONLY SKIM AND HOP AROUND ON THE PAPER BUT:

it seems Edward, second Duke of York, translated the original document into Middle English; he didn't write the original list. (feel free to correct me if anyone finds out this is wrong!)

One of the most important things I have learned today..

[a-littlebirdie]

Foosball,Flyfishing

& "Friends"

Pairing: Price x MC (Wren, nickname Osprey) GN! Reader 

Summary

John and Wren have been inseparable for the last 6 years, but neither one of them wants to admit that their relationship is nowhere near "platonic". They are released on leave for 3 months and Wren decides to take a trip back home to the states. They want to ask if John wants to go. They're just two very close friends who enjoy each others company right? What could happen?

Word Count: 5.5k ish

Author’s Note

Hello! So this is my first time posting any kind of writing since 2014. So please bare with me I may be a little rusty 😅 I just want to write some fluff and enjoy some domestic Price fly fishing. This is a two parter, maybe three depending on what I can finish by the 4th of Feb. I fly out the 6th for a job and will have limited access to internet until April, so I wanted to get this posted before I left.

Also want to note that I am not sure how much time would be between each mission, but for this we’ll say it’s around 3 months. Hope you find as much joy in this as I did!

Warnings

Too much fluff

Language

Nightmares

Slight talks of injuries

*NOT EDITED*

Part 2

______________________________________________________________

You quietly make your way through the dark and chilly halls of base. It was well into the night almost guaranteeing everyone was asleep except for the person you were looking for. A faint glow could be seen from under the door to your captain's office. Though you felt it selfish, you were relieved to see he was still awake. When you reach it you quietly knock and open the door. The room was dark with just the warm glow of the desk lamp and embers of a cigar resting on a try. John looks up and offers you a tired soft smile putting down his pen.  

"Hey Osprey."  

The codename made your heart flutter every time he said it.  

He relaxes in his chair and opens his arms. You slowly make your way over sitting on his lap. Your normal uptight demeanour relaxes almost instantly as his strong arms engulf you making you feel safe. You hide your face in his neck, closing your eyes. This had become routine after a rough mission, but lately it's been happening more often. If you weren't going to him he'd be coming to you. You were the only ones that could bring each other back from the brink of destruction. Sometimes you'd talk about what was bothering you, but usually you just held each other until one of you fell asleep. It was your typical run-of-the-mill platonic relationship right? After all, you two had known each other for almost 6 years. Why would your relationship change all of a sudden? 

You noticed that during this last mission things were evolving. Everyone noticed except John seemed to have been left out. He was much more protective over you to the point it caused the two of you to not speak for days other than exchanging plans. Thankfully the two of you made up, but there was still something off about the situation. You just couldn't put your finger on it.  

You're brought out from your thoughts wincing as his hand gently grazes the wound on your shoulder. A nasty reminder of how the last mission had gone.  

"Sorry love, how are you doing by the way? I know things have been hectic since we got back,"  

With a yawn you sit up to look at him. His piercing blue eyes scan your face with concern.  

"I'm doing alright just been having trouble sleeping because my comfy pillow has been busy." You tease with a smile and heavy eyelids. His warm presence is already lulling you to sleep. You lean back into the same position you were in with a little thud and he chuckles.  

"You might need to get a new pillow then. Its seems that one isn't doing his job"  

"Yeah, but he's more important things to pay attention to. I'll manage," you laugh at the ridiculous conversation.  

He tightens his hold and lays his head on top of yours as he sighs, 

"I know, I've been neglecting my pillow duties. I'll make it up to you."  

You felt lucky. The others didn't get to see this side of John. He cared for his team and their wellbeing, but he still puts on a tough exterior, except when it was just the two of you.  

"You know, this is really dangerous,"  

You felt his chest rumble as he chuckles, "And why do you say that?" 

"I think I'm starting to like you." You mumble sleepily. Though you said it jokingly, deep down you really mean it and it scares the life out of you. How could you start to have feelings now after all these years? Have you always had them and just pushed them down? It didn't matter. He was your captain and your friend. You're not about to ruin that.  

He chuckles again and squeezes you even closer, "It's a little too late for that realisation don't you think?"  

You laugh with a quiet "Mhm" and close your eyes again. You felt his large warm hand glide up and down your back lulling you asleep.  

Sunshine peeks through the blinds into your face waking you up. John is still fast asleep. He's sprawled out in his chair with one foot propped on his desk and both arms wrapped securely around you. You smile to yourself enjoying the moment.  

Before long John begins to stir and you feel yourself rise as he carefully sits up.  

"Well good morning sunshine," You tease.  

He rubs the back of his neck probably sore from the way he slept, "Good morning Osprey," his voice is raspy and tired as he tries to keep his eyes open. You wonder how much sleep he got. You try to get up, but you're pulled back into the chair. John wraps his arms around your waist and you feel sparks. A sense of giddiness floods your nerves as he rests his cheek against your back,"Please stay just a few more minutes." He whispers exhaustion radiating in his voice. He'd never been this clingy before, but you weren't complaining.  

Your heart is racing as you try to compose yourself before asking, "Did you get any sleep?"  

"Hmm, the last I remember is the sun coming up. What time is it now?"  

You looked down at your watch,"It's only 7,"  

"Have you been awake for long?"  

You shake your head. You can tell he's trying to keep himself awake by how much he pauses between each word.  

Rubbing your thumb over his knuckles you chuckle,"Go lay on the couch and try to get some sleep. I'll wake you before lunch."  

He hums in response,”I’ll just rest my eyes for a little longer.” 

His warm embrace soon releases you as you both stand up and he trudges over plopping down on the couch. Soon after you hear tiny snores escaping from his relaxed figure. 

You use this time to contemplate what you were going to do now that the team was on leave for the next three months. Normally you’d stay on base or travel around the UK or Europe, but you were feeling homesick. A small town in Montana is where you call home and it's been almost two years since you had the chance to go back. You look over at John who’s still fast asleep. You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no harm in asking right? You’ve been on plenty of trips with him before. The only difference was at least one other person was always around. This time it would just be the two of you. You purse your lips before letting air escape from your nostrils. Fuck it. The worst he could say is no, and even then that wouldn’t be so bad. Confident in your decision you curl up in the chair deciding to set an alarm just in case you fall asleep, but instead your mind wanders about all the different possibilities of this trip. 

Before you know it your alarm is vibrating on the desk. You glance over to John before picking it up. He turns over, his hand dropping to the floor with a thud. He grunts running his other hand over his face before sitting up and looking over at you. 

“Sleep well?” You ask standing up.  

“It was good enough.” He never slept as well when you weren't near him, but he wouldn't admit it. 

“I’m going to go grab some food if you want to come with me or I could bring you something back?”  

“I was thinking we could go off base? I need a change of scenery.” He stands up and stretches, his shirt rides up slightly and you can’t help but stare. You realise what you're doing and shake your head. You then remember back to your proposal earlier. You’d ask during lunch. 

“Sounds good. These grey walls do make me gloomy.” You joke walking out the door to head back to your room.  

There's a cute little restaurant nestled in the outskirts of town. Vines of ivy adorn the building giving it a cozy feel, and on the inside the walls are filled with objects and photographs of families, celebrations and the annual foosball (or as your teammates would call it “table football”) champions. The floors creak as you walk to sit down in your usual spot. You smile up at the picture of John, Soap, Gaz and you grinning triumphantly with a little plastic trophy from the last time you were here.  

“Feels like ages ago doesn’t it?” John smiles at you warmly.  

“Yeah we should try to do it again at some point,” you look down at the menu even though you knew what you were getting. Now was a better time than any to ask, but why were you so nervous? You lick your lips putting your menu down,”Do you have any plans for leave?”  

He shakes his head,”I was just going to go back home why?” 

“I was thinking of heading back home myself, to the states. Thought you’d like to tag along this time. I could show you around, and if you really wanted to I could even take you to those touristy places. I’ve got ties to most of them so we might be able to see it without all the people.”  

”I’d love that,” he grins, sipping his tea,”It’ll be interesting to see what the notorious Osprey did back in the day.” 

See that wasn’t so bad. 

The two of you continue talking and begin planning your trip. Before you leave you decide to go a round on the foosball table. Thankfully there isn't anyone in the room which you're grateful for. You can let loose for a bit. 

You stand on your side of the table with your legs spread, knees bent and serious expression as you focus on the players. John smiles at the scene. He adores your competitiveness when it comes to these types of things.

"I know the stakes are high, but damn. You're going to bore a hole in the table before we even start." He laughs, placing the tiny ball in the middle of the table. 

"I'm getting that cigar and there is no way you're getting into my sketchbook," 

They were silly stakes, but if you know John Price you know how important his cigars are to him. Your sketchbook was very dear to you. You brought it everywhere to capture moments and scenery. It was a way to ground yourself and remember the special moments, but no one was allowed to look at them. 

"We'll see about that," he copies your stance with a smug grin. 

You're the first to have the ball as you move from side to side trying to keep it. You make the shot and it gets clipped by one of John's players flinging it back to the middle. 

You groan,"Oh come on." 

He takes control of the ball as you're both yelling at the little players. After constantly going back and forth for about 15 minutes John scores. You swear under your breath. 

"Best 2 out of 3?" You give him a toothy grin. 

He put his hands on the ridge of the table leaning forward with a smug grin, "That'd mean doubling the stakes wouldn't it?" 

"Ok, what do you want?" You cross your arms across your chest. 

He leans back thinking. He smiles to himself before shaking his head, "I want you to take me fly fishing." 

You drop your arms to your side chuckling, "I honestly thought you were going to put me on power washing duty or something," 

"I don't trust you or Soap with the power washer. Last time you both spent over an hour drawing in the concrete," he huffs shaking his head. 

"We got it cleaned in the end didn't we?" You laugh, placing the ball back on the table,"Ok for my double or nothing, forget the cigar, if I win you have to shave your face," you grin with your hands behind your back. 

He scoffs, running a hand over his beard,"No way. I'll give you a whole box of my cigars before I do that," 

"Oh come on, I thought you were confident in your foosball abilities?" 

He pauses for a second,"You know, you're right. What am I worrying about?" 

The table rattles as you both fling and twist the rods to take control of the ball. For a split second John glances at you taking in the scene. He loved little moments like these with you. It was like you were a different person. In the field you were cold and stern except when you were comforting someone, but here right now, you're relaxed and goofy and he loves every bit of it. He's thrown out of the trance when you start doing a little happy dance spinning around. 

"Baby face Price here we come!" 

He gives you a hearty laugh, "Don't get cocky now sweetheart. You just caught me off guard." 

"Yeah sure sure. Whatever floats your boat Captain." 

The next round lasts a little longer, but John manages to score the last shot. 

"Ah I can't wait to see what masterpieces you keep hidden away," he smiled triumphantly. 

You sneer trying to keep the smile off your face. You were secretly excited that he'd get to see your works. You just hope he likes them. You're bummed out that you wouldn't get to see the team's reaction when they saw their Captain without any facial hair though. 

"Oh come on, cheer up. You'll have other opportunities. No one likes a sore loser," a mischievous grin grows on his face as he cautiously makes his way to you. 

"Johnathan Price you better not," You point at him bracing yourself to make a run for it still trying to keep the smile off your face. He takes a bigger step than you anticipate and you yelp running to the other side of the room. It's a short chase, both of you laughing like a bunch of children before he cuts you off wrapping his arms around you tickling you. Oh how he loves hearing you giggle. It always warms his heart when he is graced with the sound. 

Your giggles erupt from your chest as you flail your limbs trying to get him to stop. 

He stops for a moment, "Forgot to ask, but do I need to get a can of worms for the fish too?" he grins, still holding you in his lap. 

You roll your eyes laughing "No Neal you don't need worms, but be sure to bring sunscreen." 

He raises his eyebrows, "Oh it's going to be that type of trip huh?" 

You shove him laughing,"You're such an ass." 

"Ouch right in the heart," He fains hurt making you roll your eyes again. 

"Ah you'll live Captain," you joke leaning back away from him. You try to hide your grimace as you roll your shoulder. 

"I completely forgot about your shoulder. Are you ok?" 

You give a small laugh seeing how his expression did a 180 from mischievous to worried. 

"Yes I'm ok, I did too honestly," you try to look at it. 

He gently lifts the bandage,"Stitches still look good. Must have just irritated it," he gives you an apologetic smile. 

"That's good. I'll take something for it tonight. Don't worry, I'll be alright." You stand up offering your hand, "Now what do you say we get out of here? It's karaoke night. Remember how much we love that?" You chuckle quietly remembering the time the two of you were drunk off your asses and decided to sing a duet to Elton John's "Don't Go Breaking My Heart." 

He groans, "Oh god please let's get out of here before that starts." He takes your hand as he stands up, "We might have time to go to Knacker's. I haven't had any in ages." 

"Can never say no to Knacker's." 

The two of you walk hand in hand back to the truck. Neither of you want to let go, but you didn't want to admit it either. Once you reach Knacker's and get your custard you decide to take a stroll along the pier and down to the beach. 

It was later in the evening now and the sun was starting to set. Some families were starting to pack up and others were enjoying the sunset. A stray football comes whizzing by, but John's quick thinking keeps it from going into the ocean. He smiles at the kid kicking it back. They pick it up with a grin and a 'thank you' as they run back to the group of kids playing. It was short and sweet, but seeing John with kids always made your heart flutter. 

You find a place to sit and finish your custard. The sky was now a pinkish colour with hints of gold scattered across the sky. 

"It's nice being able to just relax and be normal for a change you know?" You pulled your knees to your chest and rested your hands and chin on them. 

"It is. Not very often we get to huh?"

He leans back on his hands, sighing. 

It was silent for a bit before a thought came to your mind. 

"Have you ever thought of retiring? From the military I mean." 

"Not really. It's something I always thought I'd do until I can't. I would have liked to of settled down, but it's too late for that." 

You look over at him with soft eyes, "I wouldn't say it's too late. You've still got time." 

You see a distant flash of sadness in his eyes as he looks to the sky, but it quickly changes to that of a more joking expression to try and hide what he's really thinking,"I've got to find someone that can handle me," he nudges your shoulder playfully, "I can be quite the handful." 

You laugh,"Oh I'm well aware of that trust me." 

As the sun sets further below the horizon clouds begin to form and it starts to drizzle. 

"I guess we should get going before the bottom falls out," you sigh. 

John gives you a questioning and amused look, "Before what?" 

"Before the bottom falls out?" You roll your eyes and laugh, "before it starts raining really hard." 

"Between you and McTavish I can't keep up with your slang sometimes." He chuckles,"but I guess we should get going." 

He stands up and offers his hand and you grab it hoisting yourself up. You make it to the truck to see that the parking lot is empty. 

Before you get in you stop,"You know what I've always wanted to do?" 

"What's that?" 

"Dance in the rain. It's not lightning and no one's here." You grab your phone from your pocket and go to your dance playlist. 

The rain is heavier now. Not too hard, but enough that your clothes are soaked. John leans against the hood of the truck and smiles in amusement and amazement at you watching as you dance around letting the music guide your movements. You look so free and happy. 

He joins and the two of you dance and laugh until you accidentally bump into him almost making the two of you fall, but John catches you pulling you back to him. You're laughing hysterically while he's looking at you with a crinkle eye smile, "You're quite something you know that?" 

It all felt so euphoric. All you can do is give him a dopey smile. It was then you realise how close he was to you and you can feel your cheeks heat up. 

He looks at your lips and back up at you. He's about to lean down when a clap of thunder makes both of you jump back. 

"I think that's our cue to get going." He internally curses at himself for suggesting it and losing his chance. 

You chuckle as you nod and the both of you take off for the truck. 

A cold shiver runs down your spine as the air comes on. You quickly turn the vent away from you and turn on the heated seat. You prop up against the window with your arm looking outside. 

"Have you started packing yet?" 

You look over at him, "Yeah I did last night. I still have a little bit to pack though. Why?" 

"I have to talk with Laswell, but I do not want to spend another night on that God awful cot. Do you want to head back to my place after?" 

"It would be nice to have an actual bed," You chuckle propping your elbow on the middle console, "I hope I'm dried by then because I'm about to freeze my ass off." 

He chuckles, reaching behind him,"Take my jacket. It'll keep you warm." 

You grab the jacket and put it on. The famous smell of cedar and cigars engulf you as you close your eyes and smile. 

"Thank you." 

"Don't take too much of a liking to it though. That's one of my favourites," 

"Mmm you're never getting this back. It's mine now," you tease, shrinking into your seat closing your eyes. 

He chuckles, shaking his head. He admits he loves seeing you in his clothes. Something about it just made him feel so warm inside.

The ride back was quiet compared to on the way out. The silence was filled with the gentle patter of rain and the radio. John smiles over at you. Your hair was starting to curl up as it dried. Something you had complained about multiple times in the past, but he thought it was cute. 

You're still asleep as you pull into base. John gently nudges you,"Alright Osprey, we're back." 

You groan not wanting to move from the warm cocoon you had made yourself, but against your better judgement you open your eyes and take the jacket off placing it on the console for later. You hop out of the truck following John into the building. 

"I'll come get you when I get out of the meeting with Laswell and then we can head out." He gives you a quick smile and you part ways as you head to your room to finish packing.

You decide to wait to change until you get to John's because you didn't want to have to change again so you instead opt to just add a beanie to tame your wild curls.

You swing your duffle bag over your good shoulder as you hear a knock at your door. 

"Ready?" 

You nod with a smile and follow him out to the truck. It's still pouring out so you have to make a run for the truck. Once inside you repeat your routine from earlier and curl up against the console. 

As you get closer to his house he turns the radio down, "Have any idea what you want for dinner while we are out?" 

"I've really been craving Chinese since we got back," 

"I know a great place. We'll get it to go and bring it home." 

"Sounds like a plan. Can we please watch A River Runs Through It? I've been thinking about it all day," you say sheepishly. You've seen the movie at least a 1000 times, but it's easily your favourite movie because it reminds you of home. 

"Yes we can." he laughs softly. 

It didn't take long to order your food and head back to John's place. When you reach it you smile seeing the quaint little cottage that sat hidden away by the tall hedge fence and trees. 

You have stayed here before many times, but never just you. You and Gaz usually stayed over after long missions, and others had been a couple of times. The whole 141 team had stayed after celebrating a little too much one night. There was only one guest room and the couch pulled into a bed, but everyone wanted the bed in the guest room. At one point all of you were piled in the guest room on the queen size bed which felt a lot smaller at the time. Soap was laid on top of Ghost and Gaz laid sprawled out over you and Ghost like a starfish. How you all managed to get a decent amount of sleep was beyond you. 

"I'll get our bags and you get the food." The rain had picked up and you could barely see in front of you as you ran for the door behind John. Once inside you put the food on the counter and head down the hallway to the guest room to change. You take the beanie off ruffling your curly hair and decide to pull it into a high ponytail. You then change into one of your favourite hoodies and a pair of shorts and head back to the kitchen stopping by the washer to throw in your clothes and hang John's jacket up to dry. 

"So when was the last time you were able to watch this movie?" He chuckles handing you your food as both head to the den. 

"When I made y'all watch it actually. So about a year or two?" You sit on the couch cross legged eagerly waiting for the movie to start. 

While watching the movie you point out little details and talk about how much Missoula had changed since the film came out. John loves watching movies with you because he loves hearing what is going on in your mind. He could tell how much this movie meant to you just by the way you talk about it. 

As the ending credits roll you quickly wipe away stray tears that have managed to escape and try to cover them up, "I can take you to some of the spots they filmed at, but there may be quite a few people there this time of year. I know some secret spots too so either way we can enjoy ourselves." 

"Wherever you go I'll follow." He gives you that signature smile. 

You return it and yawn, "I think I'm going to turn in for the night," you pat his leg and stand up stretching, "I've had a lot of fun today though. Thank you for letting me goof around for a bit. I really needed that." 

"Anytime, we all need to let loose sometimes." He gives you a warm smile. 

You say your goodnights and head to the kitchen to throw your trash away before heading to bed. 

______________________________________________________________

You wake up in a cold sweat panting as you frantically look around the room trying to figure out where you were. You lean back against the headboard and close your eyes to breathe, but all you see are their lifeless bodies. Those who you couldn't save. This last mission had really taken a toll on you as much as you hated to admit it. You understood you couldn't save everyone, but that didn't make it any easier when it happened. You wipe your hand over your face trying to hold back the tears and slide out of bed. You notice your shoulder is sticky and you touch it seeing your finger turn red. 

"Oh fuckin' hell of course." You mumble to yourself sniffling as the tears are threatening to spill over.  You walk over to your bag to grab your med kit and head to the bathroom. You shut the door and hop on the sink after turning on the light. A few of your stitches had broken and they needed to be fixed. You've had to do this many times, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. You bite the inside of your lip concentrating on the stitching instead of the pain. You hit a particularly sensitive area that made you flinch and hit your head on the medicine cabinet making you exclaim a rather loud,"fuck."

You hear footsteps as you're finishing up the last couple of stitches and a knock at the door, "You okay in there?" 

"Yeah I'm fine," Your voice was shaky and not very convincing. You finish off and go to bite the thread as the door opens. 

You freeze. Your teeth are still on the thread. You must look ridiculous right now perched up on the sink like this, eyes bloodshot, hair in disarray. 

"Wren, what the hell are you doing?" He very rarely used your real name, but when he did it usually meant he was concerned. 

You laugh nervously and then bite the thread, "My stitches broke and I needed to fix them." 

"What happened?" He reaches out to you but you flinch away. That's all he needs, to know exactly what happened, "You saw them again didn't you?" He spoke so softly as if any loud noises would scare you away. You just nod and the tears start falling as you start to shake. He gently wraps his arms around you and you cling to his shirt sobbing. It breaks John's heart seeing you like this. He wants nothing more than to take away all your nightmares and fears. 

"Shh it's alright love, you're ok." He strokes your hair placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

You don't know how long you stay like that, but you're finally able to breathe again, "Thank you," Your voice barely audible as you pull back to look at him, "I'm sorry about your shirt by the way." You are eye level with him, something you're not used to. 

"It's perfectly fine," he whispers chuckling, "Do you want to try to get some sleep?" 

You nod and he helps you down. You feel so small behind him, his tall frame towering over you shielding you from anything that would come your way. You head back to your room with John and crawl up on the bed sitting up against the headboard. You didn't want to go to sleep just yet. You're too afraid of what you'll see. 

John sits down on the edge of the bed and gently grabs your hand pulling you from your thoughts, "Do you want to talk about it?" 

You shake your head, "There's not really much to talk about. It's the same thing over and over again. I'm just standing there watching..." you trail off not wanting to continue. 

"But you didn't just stand there when it actually happened did you?" He takes your face into his hands. They're warm and rough, but gentle at the same time, "No, you fought and gave everything you had to try and save them. It's not your fault. Nobody blames you for what happened." 

You lean into his touch and close your eyes as a few tears escape, "Thank you John. That means a lot coming from you." 

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead, "I don't like seeing you so beside yourself like this. You know you can come to me if you ever need someone to listen." 

"I know. I appreciate you saying that." You give him a small smile. 

He stands up, but you instinctively grab his arm to stop him. 

"Please don't go," you responded quietly. 

He looks at you with soft eyes, "I'm just going to turn the lamp off." His voice was so soft it made you feel safe and at ease. 

You let him go and he walks over to turn off the lamp and then climbs on the other side of the bed. You scoot over to him and lay your head on his chest. He wraps his arm around you as you feel yourself drifting off to sleep to the sweet sound of his heart beat. 

'We're just friends right?' You both think to yourselves.

[inknopewetrust]

smallest joys (Henry!Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader)

Summary: the tree in the Holmes’ backyard as a place of great peace and laughter of all, and a moment arises for it to be a place of forgiveness and love as well.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none.

A/N: thanks so much for reading and always remember that authors love to hear any feedback on stories, so don’t be shy to share your opinions. Requests are still closed, but I’m working on getting them up and running hopefully soon! xoxo (gif not mine)

Enola was perched high above the ground in the great gray tree that sat far from the house she had grown to resent without her mother there. It was difficult, the constant want of adventure and thrill that was often smothered because of Mycroft’s inability to have a semblance of joy in his life.

Throwing the shading pencil in her sketchbook and closing it with a huff, Enola heard a set of angered footsteps make their way towards the tree in which she inhabited and she balled her fists against a branch. Half expecting it to be Mycroft yelling at her for leaving the study and half expecting it to be Sherlock doing their eldest brother’s bidding in a kinder manner, one they always hoped she’d fall for.

But it wasn’t. Y/n L/n, Sherlock’s feisty assistant from London was irate with her cheeks as red as apples storming toward the tree. Without noticing Enola above, Y/n leaned against its trunk and her head fell into her hands in embarrassment.

“Did you do something stupid?” Enola inquired and you jumped ever so slightly, looking up with great haste at Enola above. The young girl was smiling down on you kindly but also with such an inquisitive mind, you weren’t sure if she truly cared or just wanted manor gossip to share with the housemaid.

“And why would you ask such a thing, young lady?” You shoved your hands on your hips and narrowed fine eyes at Enola, trying to forget why you stormed out in the first place, though that was practically impossible because you knew he would follow after an argument.

“I asked you first, Y/n. And I’m not a young lady, you sound like Mycroft.” Enola swung her feet off a branch and rested her head in her intertwined hands that laid on top of another arm of the great tree.

“What happened? Did Sherlock finally recognize your talents for discovery or did you say something stupid that angered him?” Enola asked again, more in depth than before and her eyes narrowed now at the woman she had grown to admire very much.

Y/n was always someone who Enola could depend upon. Whether it be for new books from London or a simple lesson on dust particles, she knew Y/n had many of the answers. But as of late, with her mother gone and the tension in the home only growing, Sherlock appeared to be easily angered or upset by small comments, jokes or jabs at him that were not unusual from his assistant and Enola took notice. She saw the way Y/n’s eyes fell or how she would storm out of the room, angered at either herself or his reaction to her little joys and she couldn’t quite figure out why it was always her he was getting angry at. It had never happened before they had come to stay at his childhood home to help with Enola.

“Enola, I do not want to burden you with the petty arguments of adults. It is no concern of yours.”

“If it is my brother’s fault I consider it my concern.”

You pursed her lips at the girl before indulging in your frustrations.

“Every little comment I make he gets angry at. I am not use to being yelled at by him and I certainly do not understand why he is so uptight ever since we arrived. I try to help with his inquiries about your mother but even then, my input seems to go in one ear and sails out the other! Enola, I mean nothing by this, truly, I am simply frustrated by always being second fiddle to a man who appears to need no help at all.” You managed to mutter out in a moments time and Enola understood. Mycroft was the one treating Enola the same way at the moment and she wanted nothing more than to place a metal helmet on his head and bang a stick against it to set his mind straight. The men just do not appear to respect the intelligence of the women in the house.

“I am not meant for a life of domesticity, Enola. I am sure you can tell by the way I stir a pot or fold the laundry, I like adventure and I enjoy mystery very much. I simply want Sherlock to see that too. I don’t want to lose my dearest friend over one little spat.”

Enola smiled down at you and jumped down, meeting the grass with a thud and wiped off the shards that managed to catch themselves on her stockings.

“And that is why I admire you, very much, if I may add. And are you sure you don’t love him? If friends act the way you two do, I would have to choose my friends wisely.” You chuckled, reassured her you were simply just friends and embraced Enola in a some-what motherly manner, though Enola saw it as what she’d imagined would be a best friend, or sister.

“I would tell him how you feel. Make him understand you better and believe me when I say he will listen.” Enola retracted from the embrace and shot off towards the house, leaving you in state of bewilderment and confusion but when you turned around yourself intending to watch Enola run toward the house, you were met with the man you had no more than ten minutes ago stormed away from.

Sherlock stood with one hand in a pocket and the other clutching a book to his chest and a small pout on his face. The pout wasn’t one of sadness or disappointment, but of wonder and curiosity, already trying to decipher the situation before him.

“She was quick to run away.” Sherlock observed and moved toward the tree, leaning his back against it and looking over to you, just slightly to the side of him but facing him, not the land surrounding the tree.

“Well if she knew your temper as well as I do, I would run away too but obviously that has proven to not be an option.”

“I came here to apologize.” Your eyes, ears, and heart managed to perk up at the sound of Sherlock saying the word “apologize” because it wasn’t one he had ever said before, certainly not to you or anyone else he interacted with.

“An apology? From the great Sherlock Holmes? What ever shall I do with this honor?” You faked a gasp and held a hand to your forehead in a manner that only suggested a maiden swooning. Sherlock enrolled his eyes at the joke, seeming to understand that it was simply that, and as your hand made its way down from your forehead, he captured it softly in his empty one and held it gently, yet firm and your eyes flicked up to meet his.

“I would like to be serious about this, Y/n. My actions towards you the last few days have been unlike me and I am sorry for making you feel as if your opinion doesn’t matter, because it most certainly does.”

So he had heard you short conversation with Enola.

“Your opinion I value more than anyone in this world and I am frustrated I have gotten nowhere with my mother’s case in several days. I want her to return safely and with every passing day that outcome becomes less likely.”

“If you spoke to me about your concerns earlier we may have found a middle ground Sherlock. I accept your apology but I will not forgo my jokes in any situation so enjoy the humor while I still walk this earth.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but let the smallest smirk grace his face at the comment. He knew you always took your work seriously, but humor helped with the difficulties some cases can bring and he often failed to recognize the importance of laughter and enjoyment even in the darkest times. He still held your hand in his, in which he then brought it up to his lips and kissed the inside of your palm. It was personal, intimate, and apologetic.

“I am sorry you have to put up with me. I shouldn’t be so harsh when you’re trying to brighten the darkest days.”

“If I want to leave I can, but I seek thrill too much to let you or these cases disappear from my life.”

Sherlock actually smiled and sat down against the trunk, leading you to sit beside him and wrapped his free hand around your shoulders pulling you close. Ever since you arrived at his home, intimate interactions were seldom as Mycroft would have a million harsh words about how you were not a “proper lady to Sherlock”, but it wasn’t like Sherlock would have cared anyway.

“Shall we return to this story?” Sherlock said in a low, “fancy” voice in your ear and you couldn’t help but let out a snort at his attempt to be regal.

“I sincerely hope Elizabeth slaps Mr. Darcy across the face after what he said about her family. If that does not happen, the story dies there.”

“Would you slap every man who offends you? Because if so I’ll brace for one now.” Sherlock was actually joking for once but you slapped his chest lightly with your hand and let it fall, playing with a button on his waist coat. He looked down at you, a curl from the top of his head falling onto his forehead with a spring and you smiled at the handsome man you curled up against. 

“Perhaps.”

Sherlock laid a lingering kiss on your forehead and opened the book, removing the leaf that served at the bookmark and began reading in total comfort with you beside him. It was perfect until a rumble came from the bush and Enola shot up with sticks in her hair.

“So you ARE together!?”

[plant-flwrs]

Can I request a ilvermorny transfer x one of the twins? I think it'll be cool if she wore roller skates to school (charmed by yours truly) since it's the 90s and she's cool but super sweet and caring - maybe when they invite her over to the burrow for the summer or their birthday she can give them a pair? Thanks ily!!!

roller skates // fred weasley 

masterlist!

a/n: ok i always feel bad when my fics take so long to set up and theres barely any like actual romance and i am trying to work on it. i think its hard for me to go into a fic where a relationship is already established, so i like writing them coming together and the immersion of it. but i hate reading fics where it takes forever to get to the good parts so just know that i will be trying to work on that flaw in my writing! thanks so much for reading! (i made the reader from florida just because my mind blanked on any other places that don’t have snow lol, but it’s not really relevant in any other situations so ignore it if u please) also just realizing all of my summaries sound scary and ominous also just realizing how i say way too much in these author notes im so sorry bye

summary: The American transfer student draws attention to herself with her accent, but Fred is drawn to something else about her.

(10.4k hehe sorry :D)

-----

Looking around at the students bustling past you, the only word you could think of was “proper”.

Looking down at your muggle clothes, loose and mismatched, your hair resting naturally, the only word you could think to describe yourself with was “improper”.

A boy with a permanent scowl and striking blond hair glanced your way, and the taller adults behind him followed his eye line. The three of them looked you up and down and their mouths all distorted into nasty grimaces. You felt your father’s comforting hand clasp over your shoulder, trying to help you remember everything he had said to you before arriving at King Cross Station.

“They aren’t that different from us,” he repeated, and you could tell he was doubting himself as he glanced at the uptight children and their matching parents.

He guided you forwards, and you pushed your large cart in front of you, navigating through the crowd. It started to separate around you, and even more odd glances were thrown your way. You supposed you should have felt a little insecure- you looked quite out of place- but the feeling could not overwhelm the excitement you felt. You had read all about Hogwarts, its history, its architecture, and you even picked up a few books about muggle London.

You were stood in your father's embrace, about to board. Your things were stored away, and you heard the train roaring louder and louder. You glanced around, the fathers in their dress shirts and ties, mothers in long skirts and blouses. Their children wore sweaters and jeans, or suit jackets and dress pants.

Something caught your eyes, though; a few feet away there was a large family, mingling in embraces. They all had flaming red hair, and their clothes looked like yours. In fact, your clothes resembled the oldest woman’s clothes, mismatched and colorful. Her eyes watered, and she smoothed down the hair on a fidgeting boy.

“Ronald, hold still!” she shouted at him, and he reluctantly allowed his mother to soothe his red hair down into a part on the side.

Once the woman had moved onto another child, Ronald roughed his hair back to the mess it was before. The woman now clutched a smaller boy, who looked like he was Ronald’s age, by the shoulders. She moved a hand to soothe his unruly hair off his forehead. Your eyes widened when you saw the lightning bolt on his forehead.

The books you had bought about the English Wizarding World did not neglect to mention the boy who lived. Elbowing your father, you both cast glances at the family. Your father nodded his head, looking impressed at the sight of Harry Potter.

“Thanks again Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, and it sounded like he had said it millions of times before.

Mrs. Weasley waved off the two boys, who went to gather a girl with large bushy hair.

“Come on ‘Mione! We’ve got to get a good compartment,” Ronald said impatiently, tugging the girl's arm onto the train.

Mrs. Weasley was left with four other children. One of them looked like all the other proper British people you had seen at the station, a permanent sneer on his face. He shook his head stiffly at his mother and shook his father’s hand. You thought it was quite odd, and two identical boys standing with the family couldn’t contain their laughter.

“Yes,” one of them started, doubling over in a bow, “good day, mother,” he said pompously, imitating his brother.

“May you have a wonderful few months,” the other started, moving to shake his father’s hand as his brother had moments ago, “I’ll be looking for your owl,” he said, sounding incredibly posh.

The younger girl, with the same fiery hair, began to giggle, earning a scowl from the eldest brother as he boarded the train.

The girl pulled her mother in for a hug, and then her father, and waved to them fervently as she followed after her brother.

“You boys, stay out of trouble!” Mrs. Weasley said to the remaining twins, waving a finger at them.

“We always do, mum,” one said, and it was obvious by his tone that they didn’t often stay out of trouble.

They waved to their parents at the same time, stepping onto the train with a certain enthusiasm.

You averted your gaze, looking anywhere but at the family you had been staring at. You looked up at your father, hugging him one last time. When you pulled back, you heard his name being called.

“Mr. Y/n?” the voice called out, approaching the two of you.

It was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley already had his hand stuck out to your father.

“I’m Arthur Weasley, I’ve been the one to hire you at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry. This is my wife, Molly. Funny to meet you here,” he said politely, looking at you and your father in a nicer way than any other wizard had during your time at the station. His eyes didn’t wander down to your brightly colored shoes, or your patterned pants, and he didn’t even cast a second glance at your oversized, offensively colored sweater. You beamed at him.

“Oh! Yes, it’s great to meet you,” your father said, shaking his hand. He squeezed your shoulder, jostling you a bit, “This is my daughter, Y/n.”

“Oh, would you hear that accent, Arthur!” Molly gasped, smiling as if she was astonished. Your father chuckled at her reaction. You supposed it would happen to you a lot at Hogwarts.

They both smiled at you, and Arthur offered you his hand to shake. You held your hand out, but the sleeve of your sweater swallowed the limb. You shook the extra clothing away, and Molly chuckled. Finally shaking his hand, you held it out to Molly. She bypassed your hand and began to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

“Thank you,” you said, and she nodded, accomplished, at you.

“Better get her going,” your father said, and the Weasleys nodded at you.

“Have a good term, dear,” Molly said to you, patting your shoulders the way she had done to Harry.

“Thank you,” you repeated, moving past them and heading onto the train.

You waved one last time at your father, and the door closed behind you.

You wandered down the isles, looking for an empty place to sit. You pretended to look like you knew where you were going, hoping fewer people would stare at you if you did. Your plan didn’t work, and you caught the eyes of almost everyone you passed.

You had made it to the end of the train, and your eyes peered into the last cabin. It was empty except for a girl and a boy. They seemed friendly enough, so you slid open the door.

“Mind if I sit with you guys?” you asked, and the boy looked at you quizzically when he heard your voice.

“Not at all,” the girl said.

She had strikingly blonde hair and gray eyes that poured deeply into you. She had a faint smile on her lips, and her head was cocked to the side.

“I’m Luna Lovegood,” she said, and her voice was light and airy, “This is Neville Longbottom.”

The boy shifted in his seat, casting a shy glance at you. He raised a shaky hand and gave you a curt wave.

You smiled widely at the two of them, glad you seemed to have picked the right place to sit.

The train ride went fast enough. Luna asked you all sorts of questions about America, and you asked her all sorts of questions about England. When Neville warmed up to you, he asked some questions about Ilvermorny. They asked what house you had been in there, and you told him you were a Thunderbird, the soul of the witch.

“Where do you reckon she’ll be sorted into here?” Neville asked Luna. You leaned forwards, curious for the answer.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, peering into a magazine she had balanced into her lap, “but if I’m lucky, it’ll be Ravenclaw.”

“Which one is Ravenclaw?” you asked, trying to remember what you had read.

“The wise and witty,” Luna said, moving her robes to show the crest on it. It was blue with a bird over it.

“A raven, clever,” you said, looking closer at Neville’s red-trimmed robes.

“You’d think,” he said, “but it’s an eagle. I’m a Gryffindor, we’re meant to be brave but,” he trailed off, and Luna placed a comforting hand on his arm.

“Oh, stop it, Neville,” she said gently, her gaze back onto you, “there's Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.”

You nodded, recalling what little you read.

“My dad said he figured I would be a Hufflepuff. The Ministry told him he was a Ravenclaw, he had to do the silly sorting hat and everything,” you said, and Neville smiled at you.

“Hufflepuff? They’re quite nice, I suppose,” he said, sounding disappointed that you weren’t in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.

“Well, we won’t know for sure,” Luna said, closing her magazine, “until-” but the train’s brakes began to screech.

Her smiled widened, and you looked down at your robes you had changed into. Maybe now people would be less inclined to stare, you thought.

You were right, but only briefly. Once you had gotten to the Great Hall, you were shuffled in with the first years. Your face burned a slight red the whole time, your larger and older stature standing out amongst the sea of younger students. Your name was called, and you heard a faint whooping coming from the table of red.

You glanced at it, seeing Neville lowering a cheering fist from the air. He looked around nervously, and you saw one of the Weasley twins glancing at his quizzically. You smiled at Neville’s support and sat in the stool.

An old and tattered hat was lowered onto your head, and suddenly it began speaking in your ear.

“Hm, very interesting. You’re not from here, that’s obvious,” it spoke quickly, echoing in your skull, “but I think the choice is simple. I’d say,”

Suddenly the voice left your skull and boomed into the room, for everyone to hear.

“Hufflepuff!”

Cheers from a table full of yellow sounded off, some raising from their seats and clapping for you. You beamed, moving off the stool and skipping cheerfully towards the table. You walked down the aisle between the red and yellow, and Neville’s hand stuck out at you.

“Congratulations!” he said excitedly, holding his hand up for a high five.

You hit his hand, and he waved you off.

A girl with a yellow tie and dark hair waved you over. She inched over, giving you room to sit with her.

“I’m Sarah, happy to have you in Hufflepuff!” she beamed, and you didn’t think you would ever get used to the British accents.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you watched her eyes widen at the sound of your voice, “I’m Y/n.”

“You’re American! You must have come from that American school, what’s it called, Ilmorny?” she asked, ducking her head and whispering as the sorting continued.

“Ilvemorny,” you corrected her, still smiling.

Sarah asked you a lot of the same questions Neville and Luna had asked, but you didn’t mind answering them. She had even offered to give you a tour of the school tomorrow, with the promise that you would choose the bed next to her’s in the dorm.

Sarah had lived up to her promise. You walked with your head permanently tilted upwards, admiring the greatness of the castle. Sarah ate with you at every meal and even insisted on walking you to your classes until you knew the way on your own. She had been so nice to you, and when Luna told you about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip, you knew you had to ask her to go with you.

The two of you walked through the snow, wrapped up in matching yellow and black scarves. She had linked her arm with yours and pulled along to all her favorite shops.

The two of you ducked into The Three Broomsticks, sick of the ice sticking to your face.

You saw a red scarf and a blue scarf sitting at a table, and when you saw the flow of blonde hair peeking from the blue one, you knew who it was. You pulled Sarah over to Luna and Neville, and Neville told you to pull up two chairs. You introduced Sarah to Luna and Neville.

“We’re just waiting for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to meet us,” Neville said, smiling cheerfully.

“Oh, should we go?” you asked, offering to free up your chair.

“No, no, stay,” Luna urged you, pulling your arm back down, “I’ll introduce you.”

This was how you were going to meet Harry Potter, you thought, huddled up at a small table, drinking a foamy beverage that left a little white mustache on your upper lip.

Harry was just like every other kid, and he was with the people you had seen at the station that day.

“What did you say your last name was?” Ron asked, leaning over the table so you could hear him.

“Y/l/n,” you said.

“Does your dad work for the Ministry?” he asked, and you nodded, “Our dads work together!” he said, elbowing Harry.

“Her dad is the bloke my dad was raving about all summer, the guy from America,” Ron said to Harry, and Harry nodded at you.

“What a coincidence,” you said, dipping your head to take another sip of the drink Sarah had ordered you.

You all fell into a natural conversation, and Hermione asked to switch seats with Sarah at one point. Sarah had no protests, filing easily into the seat next to Harry, glancing at him dreamily.

“Will you tell me about America? I’ve been to other parts of Europe for holidays, but never America. What’s it like? How different are the wizards?" Hermione sounded off questions like she had them rehearsed, but you were happy to answer them.

You and she were in a fit of laughter after she had told you about her parents’ reaction to her letter. Your eyes were shut, brimming with tears, as Hermione recounted her mother’s jumping up and down.

You were so involved with your conversation with Hermione, you hadn’t noticed Ron’s brothers come into the restaurant.

“Hello, Ickle Ronniekins,” one of them teased, messing a hand through Ron’s overgrown hair, “when are you gettin’ a hair cut?”

“Mum’s gonna cut it all off the second you get home,” the other said, pulling a chair in between Luna and Ron. The other pulled a chair in between Harry and Sarah, and you didn’t miss Sarah’s annoyed sigh at the interruption.

You and Hermione were recovering from your laughter, clutching your stomachs and breathing heavily.

“What’s so funny ladies?” one of them said, shoving Ron aside so he could rest his elbows on the table.

“Just telling Y/n about how my parents reacted to my letter from Hogwarts,” Hermione sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“You’re the famous Y/n?”

“The American?”

Ron elbowed each of his brothers in their sides, frowning at them.

“That’s me,” you answered cheerfully, smiling at them, “Are you Ron’s brothers?”

“More like,” one of them started.

“Best friends,” the other finished.

“He really would be nowhere if it weren’t for us,” they said at the same time.

A smile slid across your face; it was easy to smile around your new friends, you found.

Hogwarts was better than you could have ever hoped. You wrote to your father nearly every week, recounting the amazing things you had done with Sarah, Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. The seven of you were becoming inseparable.

Luna’s blue tie dangled over your face as you lay on her lap, she was trying this odd head charm she had read about in the Quibbler. Your head rested in between her legs, back on the ground. Her skinny fingers were pressed to your temple, and they hesitantly pressed into your skin.

“Is that right?” she asked, consulting the cartoon pictures that moved on the Quibbler laying next to her.

“I don’t reckon, it doesn’t feel like anything’s happening,” you said, sitting up and rubbing where Luna’s fingers had been.

“Neville,” Luna said, motioning him over. His face grew white as she pulled him into him, moving to where you had been. Luna’s fingers pressed against Neville’s head, and his eyes fluttered closed. Luna began to hum to herself, and Neville smiled.

You crawled over to sit by Ron under the tree. Sarah was talking to Harry, her eyes dazed over as he gently brushed off a leaf that had fallen on her shoulder. Hermione was near, her head resting on her bag, laying on her back with his legs crossed. She was deep into a muggle book you recognized, and you couldn’t blame her for not wanting to put it down.

“Hi, Ron,” you snapped him out of his thoughts, ending his obvious staring at Hermione, “enjoying the weather?”

“Yeah, it’s just about my favorite time of year,” he said, twisting a blade of grass in his fingers.

The snow had melted, winter break had ended. Ron was able to shed his mother's heavy knitted sweaters and wear some of his more comfortable shirts.

“I quite liked the winter,” you said, your head leaning against the tree, “it was my first time seeing snow.”

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell us that?” Ron asked, seeming bewildered.

“Don’t know,” you shrugged, smiling at him.

“Hermione! Oi, Hermione! Y/n had never seen snow before she came here,” Ron said, calling out to Hermione.

“I know, she’s from Florida,” Hermione said, uninterested, head still buried in her book.

“Florida? Why didn’t I know that?” Ron asked, feeling out of the loop.

“Don’t know,” you repeated, shrugging again.

“Because you don’t ask, Ron,” Hermione said, sounding unpleased with Ron’s loud volume.

You stifled a laugh, but Ron looked at you, feeling guilty.

“Hermione’s right, I guess,” Ron said, casting a sad glance at you.

“It’s alight, Ron, I won’t hold it against you,” you reassured, and Ron perked up a little.

“Tell me one thing no one else here knows about you,” Ron said urgently. To this, Hermione closed her book and lay it on her chest, interested in what you were going to say.

You thought about it. You didn’t have anything to hide from your friends, but you felt yourself blanking on even the littlest fact about yourself. You tried to think of any special abilities you had, besides being a wizard, or any life events that were significant. The only thing you thought of was the hesitance you had when packing your trunk for school, debating on whether or not to bring your roller skates with you. Ilvermorny had allowed them, and you skated to nearly all your classes. The school's cold granite floors were just begging to be skated across, you had thought, and it was ten times faster than walking.

You thought about your skates, you missed them more than you thought you would. The white boots with slick, black wheels and rainbow laces were one of your most prized possessions. You wondered now, again, if you would have gotten in trouble for bringing your roller skates to school.

“Oh, alright, I’ve thought of something,” you began, and Hermione sat up a little, resting on her elbows.

“I really like to roller skate,” you said proudly.

“Roller skate?” Hermione and Ron repeated at the same time. Ron sounded confused, but Hermione sounded entertained.

“Yeah.”

“Like from the 80′s?” Hermione asked, still sounding entertained.

“They’re making a comeback,” you defended.

“What’s roller skate?” Ron asked, looking between you and Hermione.

“It’s like shoes with wheels on them,” Hermione said, used to having to explain muggle inventions her friend, “You tie them up and you skate around.”

“What do you do that for? Do they go really fast?” Ron asked.

“They can,” you said, “but it’s really just for fun. I used to take them with me to Ilvermorny and go to my classes on them, but I didn't know if Hogwarts allowed them.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Ron asked, “Are they dangerous?”

“They're not dangerous, I suppose you could fall on them, but it’s not as bad as that Quidditch game you guys play,” you explained, “I just didn’t know if Hogwarts allowed those kinds of muggle things.”

Ron and Hermione nodded, and Hermione looked to be in deep thought.

“I’m sure they would,” she said, returning back to her book.

“What do you reckon they’re doing down there?” Fred asked, looming over George’s shoulder as he held the Marauder’s Map in his hands.

“Do you think Ron’s finally gonna get a girlfriend?” George teased, looking at you and Ron sitting together under the tree.

Fred sneered at his brother. Ever since he had told George he thought you were cute, it seemed George wanted to push his buttons any way he could. He would make jokes about you and Ron flirting, and for some reason it made his blood boil. He hadn’t even spoken to you on more instances than he could count on a hand, but he was enticed by you.

Your eyes were always moving, and they were always wide with excitement. He thought you were beautiful, you were always wearing your muggle clothes when you didn’t have to wear your uniform. You dressed kind of like his mum, he realized one day, but in a cooler way. That’s the word, cool, he thought you were cool. You fit in easily with Ron’s friends, you could talk about anything, and you were always so sweet.

“Where are they going now?” George wondered out loud, watching the names on the map begin to move.

You got up and dusted off your pants, feeling the baggy jean material under your fingers. You helped Ron up, offering him a hand and pulling him off the ground. You, Ron, and Hermione trailed after Harry and Sarah, who trailed after Neville and Luna. You had all been feeling a bit warm outside, so you decided to go to the Gryffindor common room for the rest of the afternoon. You and Sarah were always excited to go to the Gryffindor common room, feeling it was a nice change from yours in the basement.

Fred’s eyes watched as you, Ron, and Hermione walked together towards the Gryffindor common room. He suddenly felt nervous, even though he was up in his dorm with George. He stood, and looked at himself in the mirror. He pulled down at the bottom of his shirt, tugging uncomfortably at the way it clung to his arms. He hadn’t been dressed to impress, and he usually didn’t, but at the sight of your name getting closer to his on the map, he ignored George’s torments and changed into nicer pants and a more flattering shirt.

Harry stepped passed Neville, who had forgotten the password, and held open the portrait for everyone as they stepped through. You, Sarah, Luna, and Hermione occupied the biggest couch in front of the fire, and Neville and Ron took the armchairs on either side of you. Harry sat on the floor in between Ron’s chair and where Sarah had sunk into the corner of the couch.

Sarah beamed at you, taking notice of the small action, and you wiggled your eyebrows back at her. She blushed and leaned over the side of the couch, resting her chin in her hand and starting a conversation with Harry.

Hermione pulled her book from her bag again, reading the pages eagerly. You and Luna sat shoulder to shoulder as Luna began to tell you about her plans for the summer.

“I think I’ll try to learn French,” she said, toying with some sunglasses she pulled from her pocket.

“You’re going to learn French?” you repeated, a smile pulling up your lips.

“I think so, might also help my dad with his plums,” Luna said, turning to you as she slipped on the sunglasses. They overcame her face, entirely oversized and wonderful. They were bright green and had purple lenses that were reflective. You could see your wide and amused smile in them.

“Your father grows plums?” you inquired, always enjoying conversation with Luna.

“Yes, they’re Dirigible Plums.”

“What are those?”

Luna pulled her hair back and showed you a pair of earrings she wore. They looked like little orange balloons, but leaves hung from them.

“Oh, those are very pretty, Luna,” you said, admiring them.

“My dad says they make you wiser,” she explained, “so he grows them in his garden.”

“And you wear them as earrings,” you said, smiling at her.

“Yes,” she nodded and gave you a crooked grin.

“What are your plans for the summer?” Luna asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. My father will be working, so I’ll probably be home all day,” you said, feeling a little lonely already, “I’ll have my roller skates though.”

Luna looked at you, confused, but you were more talking to Ron anyways, who you noticed was listening to your conversation.

“You should come to the Burrow this summer! Everyone does, even for just for a week,” Ron said, standing and moving over to sit on the coffee table in front of you.

“That sounds cool, I’d love to,” you said, grinning at Ron.

You looked around you and felt so lucky, lucky to have found such kind and accepting people at your new school.

Pacing upstairs, Fred smoothed down his hair before ruffling it again and then smoothing it. He knew you were downstairs, and he knew he wanted to talk to you, but you just made him so nervous. He never gets nervous.

George sat with his elbows on his knees, eyebrows raised, watching his brother obviously losing his mind.

“Just go down and talk to her,” he said, a little afraid his brother might explode, “you’re gonna wear a hole in the ground.”

Fred stopped where he stood, near the door. He sighed heavily and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard, “I’ll just go talk to her.”

Fred recalled the day he had formally met you at the Three Broomsticks. He was smooth, able to mask the way your curious gaze had made his stomach flutter. He couldn’t very well go down there and make a fool of himself, could he?

“Oi Fred!” he heard Lee call from where he stood near Harry, which was also near you, “Come over here a minute.”

Fred sauntered over, forcing himself not to stare at you.

Hermione had put down her book, and Luna had left to go to her own common room to do some homework. You and Hermione sat cross-legged facing each other, playing a muggle card game.

“Yeah?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning against the banister of the fireplace.

Harry and Lee sat at two wooden chairs near the fireplace, only a few feet away from the couch you were on. This angle allowed him to watch you as your head threw back in laughter as Hermione scowled at her losing the game. His eyes easily flickered back to Lee, who pulled him into the conversation he and Harry were having about Quidditch.

Ginny walked through the portrait hole, returning from some Quidditch training she had been doing. Ginny was taking Quidditch very seriously this year and had taken to exercising on the pitch with Angelina every weekend.

“Ginny!” Ron called out to her, putting down the newspaper he was reading. He waved her over with a hurried hand.

“What?” she said, plopping down on the empty space next to Hermione, “What game are you guys playing?”

You looked up from the deck of cards you had begun to shuffle as Hermione told her.

“Ginny,” Ron said again, pulling his sister’s attention back to him.

“Hm?” she said, and it was very obvious she was tired from her day's activities.

“Have you asked anyone over for the summer yet?” Ron asked, and his eyes flicked to you, “I just invited Y/n, so I don’t want it getting too crowded.”

Ginny looked over to you, her gaze becoming analytical. You raised a hand to wave and cast her a kind smile, and she returned it.

“I don’t have anything planned, it should be fine,” Ginny turned away from Ron and back towards you and Hermione, “When are you lot coming? At the same time?”

You looked towards Hermione, not knowing the answer.

“Oh, I didn’t have any specific ideas yet, Ron’s just asked me. Still have to write to my dad,” you said, and Hermione nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be the usual time for me, though,” Hermione said, and Ginny smiled.

“What’s the usual time?” you asked, beginning to deal the cards to you and Hermione.

“A few weeks before school starts, Mrs. Weasley takes us all to Diagon Alley for our school things,” Hermione said, speaking fondly of the memory.

“Should I ask my dad to come then, when Hermione does?” you looked towards Ron, “Unless I should come at a different time,” you said, not trying to intrude.

“That would be perfect! Harry comes ‘round that time too, so we’ll all see each other,” Ron said.

He looked over at Harry, and upon seeing his brother, he called Fred over the way he had done to Ginny.

“Fred, have you invited anyone home for summer yet?”

Fred’s gaze immediately went to you, and he found you looking at him too.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and over to Ron.

“Who?” Ron said, curious because his brothers usually didn’t have people over to the Burrow during holidays.

“George,” he said, smirking.

“Git,” Ron mumbled under his breath.

“Why do you ask, Ickle Ronniekins?”

“I just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t get too crowded when Hermione, Harry, and Y/n come ‘round,” Ron said, squirming as Fred forced himself into Ron’s seat that was only big enough for one of them.

Fred’s cool demeanor dropped for a moment, his eyes widening. He quickly recovered, wrapping an arm around Ron.

“How considerate of you,” he said, giving his brother an unwanted side hug.

Ron got up from his seat, leaving Fred to sit by himself. He watched you with unblinking eyes as you listened to Ginny talk about her time with Angelina on the pitch.

Looking down at your packed to the brim suitcase, you glance to the corner of your room. Your pristine roller skates sat there, one on their side. They looked sad and forgotten, but you knew that wasn’t true. Ever since you had gotten home from Hogwarts, you had taken to skating around ‘muggle’ London. You had also just gotten used to saying ‘muggle’.

Your father left early and got home late, and part of you was jealous that he got to see a Weasley every day and you didn’t. To ease your envy, you took to your skates.

You weren’t sure if you should pack them with you for Ron’s house. You were leaving when your father got home for work, the two of you setting off just before dark. You shoved a sweater deeper into your bag, making room for the skates.

Your father was to eat dinner with the Weasleys, sleep on the couch, and set off with Mr. Weasley for work in the morning. No point in two trips, they figured.

You were traveling by Flu powder, and your father went first. He heaved your bag into the fireplace with him and erupted in green flames. You carried a backpack on your shoulder, filled with little things that couldn’t fit in your suitcase.

Fred was more nervous and excited than he had ever felt in his whole life. He was determined to chat you up this summer, at least do something to make sure you knew he existed. He had been pacing in he and George’s shared room, but George pulled him down to the kitchen and made him drink some tea, hoping to calm him down.

You twisted your fingers, looking nervously into the fireplace. You were extremely excited to spend the remaining weeks of your summer with the Weasleys, but a small part of you was scared. You were nervous that Ron’s parents wouldn’t like you as much as they did at the train station. You were nervous that Ron, and his siblings, would get sick of having you around. You were nervous that you would become a burden.

You had been writing with Hermione, and she ensured you of how kind the Weasleys were. She told you that you had nothing to worry about, and you felt a little relieved.

You had visited Sarah a couple of times during the summer. She lived fairly close, close enough for you to take muggle transportation. Her family was welcoming and all had wide eyes at your accent. Thinking of their kindness, you felt confident enough to finally step into the fireplace.

Green flames surrounded you, and within seconds, you were stood in a different fireplace. It was a little shorter, and you were glad you had hunched over a little. Mr. Weasley and your father were shaking hands off to the side, over by a large couch. Mrs. Weasley was looking into the fireplace and waving you out. Ron was trudging your suitcase upstairs already, and Hermione and Ginny stood by Mrs. Weasley smiling widely. You noticed Fred and George sat at a large wooden table near the kitchen both drinking some tea and eating.

You took a step from the fireplace, making sure to wipe off any ash that may have stained your clothes, and allowed Mrs. Weasley to pull you into a hug.

“Oh, so good to see you again, dear!” she said, rocking you back and forth in the suffocating hug.

You didn’t care if you couldn’t breathe, you decided at that moment that Molly Weasley gave the absolute best hugs. She released you, patting your shoulders and running a loving hand through your hair, tucking it behind your ear. You beamed at her, and she smiled back at you.

When she moved away, Hermione quickly replaced her. Hermione’s arms pulled you close, wrapping around your backpack.

“I missed you!” she said, smiling at you.

“I missed you too!” you said, nearly ‘awing’ at everyone’s kindness.

Ginny hugged you too, and when you stepped away, Ron had come back downstairs. You hugged him, and then Harry, and finally you were left to be able to breathe your own air.

The house around you was adorable. It was better than you could have ever imagined. Magic was everywhere, and everything just felt like home.

“You’ll be staying with me and Ginny,” Hermione said to you from her spot next to you at the table.

“Perfect,” you replied, the same awestruck smile plastered on your face since you had arrived.

Fred looked at you from across the table. He felt like his dinner was moving in his stomach, and his hands were sweating. He’d nearly dropped his fork three times. He breathed deep, and when the conversation lulled, he took his chance.

“How has your summer been, Y/n?” he asked, and you looked up from your plate to him.

He nearly died, your happy eyes looking at him.

“Great!” you said, wiping your hands on your napkin in your lap, “I’m glad to finally be here.”

He smiled back at you, and it took him a moment to realize he’d been staring for a little too long, and that you had asked him a question.

“My summer? Oh, my summer’s been good too,” he replied, nodding.

You looked to George, who was next to him and raised your eyebrows, inviting his answer.

“It’s been good,” he said casually, and then an evil grin spread across his face, “but I think Fred’s just about worn my ear off talking about you.”

Fred coughed, choking on his mashed potatoes. His face went red, and he looked at his twin with an anger George had never seen before. Fred quickly looked back at you, as if to gauge your reaction. Your head was tilted down, but a shy smile was on your face and a blush crept on your cheeks.

Fred’s anger subsided at the sight of it, but when George kicked him from under the table, he was reminded.

“What is wrong with you?” Fred asked, nearly yelling at his brother in the privacy of their own room.

“I gave you a push,” George answered, not looking up from the Zonko’s catalog in his hands.

Fred simmered, coming to the realization that George was right. He fell onto his bed, thinking back to the pink on your cheeks and the bashful curl of your lips.

He didn’t know how he was meant to sleep, painfully aware of the fact that you were asleep just a room away.

“Did you hear what George said to Y/n at dinner?” Hermione asked, pulling Ginny into the argument you were having once she got out of the shower.

Ginny shook her head, removing the towel from her hair, “No, what’d he say?”

You rolled your eyes at Hermione as she divulged into every little detail of what George had said.

“And Fred could not stop staring!” she finished, and you let out an exaggerated breath.

“He was not staring!”

“Yes, he was,” Ginny said cheekily, sitting down on her bed.

“Ginny!” you said, giving up hope of having her on your side.

“He totally fancies you,” Hermione said.

Your face twisted for two reasons: the word ‘fancies’, and the fact that she thought Fred Weasley might fancy you.

“He does not!”

Ginny sat on her bed, listening to you and Hermione go back and forth. She knew Fred fancied you, he had since they had been at school. She saw his longing looks, the way he looked at you first after he told a joke, and the pure admiration he had in his eyes any time he looked at you. It especially convinced her when Fred had been talking about you all summer. She came to a decision.

“He does,” she said, watching Hermione’s face change into the proud one she wore when she answered a question right in class. Your mouth hung open.

“What?” Hermione’s gaze turned towards you, and she smiled widely. You liked to think it was her infectious smile that made your mouth turn up, and not the idea of Fred liking you.

“He has been talking about you all summer, I’m surprised Ron didn’t tell you earlier,” Ginny said, bringing the towel to her hair again to catch some dripping water.

“He probably hasn’t even noticed,” Hermione said, the tone of annoyance dripping off her tongue.

Ginny flashed her a sympathetic look, but Hermione ignored it, continuing.

“Do you like him?” she pried, and the whole room felt like it was frozen.

They both looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

You didn’t know. Fred was handsome, and funny, and clever, but you hardly knew him. You knew he was mischievous, and that he tormented Ron, but other than that you might as well have been strangers. You could not deny, however, that he was attractive.

“I don’t know,” you said, honestly.

“You don’t know?” Ginny repeated, confused.

“Yeah, I mean, I barely know him,” you answered, the obvious energy in the room shifting to something of deep thought.

“Do you fancy him, though?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised.

“I think he’s cute, yeah, but how can he fancy me? We’ve barely spoken to each other. Are you sure Ginny?” you asked again, still doubtful.

“I’m sure he’s noticed the little things more than you think he would, Fred can be pretty considerate when he wants to be,” Ginny said, and you breathed out loudly. You flopped on your back, the mound of blankets around you and Hermione soothing your landing.

“See? I wouldn’t know that!” you said.

You knew it was a little silly, to focus on something like this. You had an older, attractive, popular boy head over heels for you, but you were harping on the fact that you didn’t know whether or not he was considerate.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hermione said harshly, “I mean it’s not like you’re forced to marry him. You go on dates with people to get to know them, after all.”

You were nearly offended by Hermione’s tone, but you figured she was just getting irritated on the subject of crushes.

“I know, ‘Mione, I’m just confused by it,” you reassured her.

“Well, test the waters tomorrow,” Ginny said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

You cringed away from her, and swells of giggles were coming from Ginny’s room nearly all night.

The three of you slept late into the morning. The Burrow’s eventful noises were nothing compared to the sounds of muggle London, so you slept peacefully. It wasn’t until something began tapping on Ginny’s window, did the three of you wake up.

“What the-?” Ginny started but soon fell silent at the sound of a loud crashing noise. Shards of glass scattered around the room and Hermione was lucky that she had rolled away from the window in her sleep. You put your hand up, flinching at the noise, and when you dropped it, the warm summer air flooded into the room.

A small golden snitch was soaring around the room, averting every swipe of Ginny’s hands, and ducking behind her dresser.

Ginny slipped on some shoes, and carefully navigated through the glass. She leaned cautiously out of the window, and that's when the screaming started.

“Harry! Are you mental?! What on Earth-” her screams divulged into threats and insults, and you looked over her shoulder, watching Harry hover many feet away on his broom, his face looking quite guilty.

You found your shoes and moved over to the window. You then realized that Fred and George were hovering closer to Ginny’s window, silencing the snickers and amazed faces they wore. At the sight of Fred, your eyes widened, and his eyes met yours. He smiled kindly at you, and before you knew what you were doing, you ducked behind the window, crouching by Ginny’s feet.

You heard George’s laughter, and Ginny’s ramblings stilled.

“What are you doing on the floor?” she asked you, lowering herself to crouch with you.

“I don’t know,” you answered, whispering. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were wide. Ginny’s threatening look turned into a smile.

She began to giggle, and soon enough, Fred and George hovered just above the window, peering into Ginny’s room.

“What are you girls doing down there?” George asked, resting a hand on the part of the windowsill with no glass on it, peering into the room.

Ginny looked at you, her smile wide. You looked around and began to pick up large shards of glass.

“Cleaning up the glass,” you said casually, although you could still feel the distinct burn of blush on your cheeks.

You could only safely pick up two large shards of glass without cutting your hands, so you raised yourself from the ground, meeting Fred and George’s eyes. Ginny followed you, crossing her arms and smirking.

The boys wore their practice robes, their names and numbers on the backs. They both had discarded goggles hanging from their necks, and their hair was wild. You looked between the both of them, swallowing thickly.

“Could you keep it down?” Ginny finally said, trying to ease the situation, “We’re trying to sleep.”

George removed a hand from his broom and glanced at his watch, “It’s nearly 12 in the afternoon,” he said sarcastically.

“Really? Well, we need our beauty sleep,” Ginny said, and you noticed she nearly reached out to close the window.

George rolled his eyes and zipped away on his broom, leaving Fred.

“I’m gonna go get a broom, clean this up,” Ginny said, huffing as she navigated her way back through the glass on the floor.

You and Fred were left there, staring at anything but each other. Fred moved slightly up and down on his broom as he hovered. He finally cleared his throat and looked at you.

“Sleep well?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

You nodded and smiled, rocking back and forth on your feet, “You?”

He nodded too and looked away quickly.

“Oh, I think George, is calling me,” he said, and it was obvious George was not calling him. He flew away on his broom, and you closed your eyes, letting out a restrained breath.

You groaned and threw yourself on Ginny’s bed. Hermione rolled over, a large and entertained grin on her face. You covered your face with a pillow and ignored Ginny and Hermione’s imitations of the incident while they swept up the glass.

Mrs. Weasley was furious to see Ginny’s window. She had come in later in the day, a basket full of laundry on her hip.

“Hello girls,” she said pleasantly, “Do you have- what the bloody hell is that?”

Ginny’s eyes widened at the sound of her mother’s deep and serious tone.

“Mum! It wasn’t us,” Ginny leaped from her bed and ran to her dresser, she quickly caught the snitch from where it had been hiding behind her dresser, “It came through the window this morning when the boys were playing.”

Mrs. Weasley looked at you and Hermione, and you both nodded your heads furiously. She huffed out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

Finally looking up, she set the laundry down and stood in Ginny’s doorway.

“BOYS!” she shouted, and you heard the sudden halting of George and Fred’s laughter, and Harry and Ron’s footsteps upstairs silenced.

The sound of four hesitant feet walking to Ginny’s room was the last thing you heard before Mrs. Weasley’s screams burst your eardrums.

The Burrow was crowded now that the boys had been banned from leaving the house. They had only briefly been allowed out of the house to de-gnome the garden, but Mrs. Weasley stood at the door, making sure they had absolutely no fun.

Your suitcase lay open in Ginny’s room, the three of you dressed and having absolutely no ideas as to what to do. You had all already ran through your spending money going to Diagon Alley on your first days there, and without the boys offering some entertainment, the three of you were idle.

Ginny paced, looking through her own things with interest. She twisted her broom in her hands, offering the idea of Quidditch, but Hermione wasn’t interested. Ginny was scanning her room, and her eyes fell on your bag. A pair of white shoes with wheels on them lay tucked away in the bag. She walked over to them and pulled them out hesitantly.

“What the bloody hell are those?” George said from the doorway.

The three of you girls turned, looking to the door. The four boys crowded in the hall, all peering into the room with interest. It seemed they were bored too.

“Are those the roll skates?” Ron asked, mispronouncing the word and shoving past George and taking the roller skate from Ginny.

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes flicking up over the top of your magazine.

The rest of the boys filed into the tiny room, nearly all of them shoulder to shoulder. Hermione rose from her spot next to you, picking up the other one from your bag.

“I remember seeing commercials for these things when I was a kid,” Hermione said, spinning the wheel in her hand.

“Commercials? What are you on about?” Ron said, and Harry caught your baffled look and smiled.

“What are they?” Fred asked, taking Hermione’s seat next to you on Ginny’s bed.

You lowered your magazine and looked at him, only to find him already looking at you. He gave you a crooked smile and nodded in greeting. You successfully fought a blush and smiled back at him.

“They’re roller skates. They’re like shoes with wheels,” you explained, taking the skate from Ron.

You rolled up your jeans a little and slipped on the skate. Fred watched your delicate fingers lacing up the shoe, noticing the way your hair fell into your face as you looked down at them.

Hermione handed you the other one, and you did the same to the other foot. You stood easily from the bed and nearly lost your balance. It was lucky that Fred’s strong shoulder was there for your hand to clasp onto, or else your feet would have slipped from under you.

You looked down at your hand still on Fred’s shoulder, even though you were standing fine. He slipped your hand off but kept it in his hand. You then became aware that you were just holding hands at this point. He stood with you and turned to face you. He pulled your other hand into his, and pushed you away from him, smiling widely as you rolled easily on the hardwood floors.

Everyone knew then that they had found their entertainment for the day.

The sound of joyful laughter flooded your ears as Fred pulled you around the limited space in Ginny’s room. Your hands fit together perfectly, and he walked backward as he pulled you, keeping his smiling eyes on you the whole time. Soon he was pulling you into the hallway, and everyone trailed after. You felt Ginny’s small hands pushing your back, and you began to gain speed. Fred hadn’t caught up, and you were coming closer and closer to him. You looked down but didn’t want to put your toes down to brake, in fear of scuffing up the floor. So, you let yourself fall into Fred’s arms.

The two of you stayed upright, but his long arms were wrapped around your waist. Your hands fell to his chest, and his chin pressed against his neck as he looked down at you. His hair fell into his eyes, and yours fell gracefully in its natural place. You smiled, and he smiled, and soon you erupted into giggles at the silence behind you. George catcalled, and you stuffed your giggles into Fred’s chest, tucking your head under his chin. You felt him take a sharp inhale, and his arms became a little tighter around you.

When Mr. Weasley got home, he was accosted by his children.

“Dad!” They said in unison, all waiting for him by the door.

He jumped at the sight of them all, then began taking off his coat.

“Look at these!” Ginny said, pointing to your feet.

You did a little spin, careful not to make any marks on the floor. Fred watched you spin elegantly, your arms coming out a little like a ballerina.

“Remarkable!” Mr. Wealsey cried, moving to look at them.

Questions came from his mouth faster then you could answer them, and you slid the wheels against the floor under the table while you ate dinner.

“We had an idea, Dad,” Fred said, looking at you proudly.

“Yeah, think you’ll like it,” George added, glancing at you with a smirk and then looking back at his dad.

“We need you to conjure some sort of track outside,” Ron finished, talking with his mouth full.

“A track! That’s brilliant!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed, missing the worried look from his wife.

“It was Y/n’s idea, she’s brilliant,” Fred said, looking across the table at you.

You giggled as George made a gagging noise.

“With what? Stone?” Mrs. Weasley inquired, placing a hand on her hip.

“Oh no, they’re usually made of wood or asphalt,” you explained, “they have a whole building of them in the muggle world. People rent the skates and pay to skate on a big rink.”

Mr. Weasley's eyes widened with excitement, and Mrs. Weasley’s worry tamed.

“Let’s do it tonight.”

The eight of you walked to a clearing on the side of the house. It was where the boys usually played Quidditch, but it hadn’t been in use for days. Mrs. Weasley hadn’t stopped the boys from helping with the track, and you were grateful.

“Hold it higher, Ron!” Mr. Weasley called out, and Ron raised his father's wand with a bright orb of light coming from it.

The track was nearly done. It was huge, a large hoop secured to the ground. There was an enchanted orb of light in the center of the circle, and it illuminated the entire rink.

Your friends watched you blaze around the track, your hair whipping around behind your face, the sides of your cardigan flapping in the wind. You heard loud cheers when you successfully began skating backward.

The rest of your trip to The Burrow was spent out there. The boys were lifted from their punishments, and the rink became the one place you all went to when you woke up, and the last place you were before bed. Soon enough, though, your father appeared in the fireplace with your school trunk by his side. He quickly took back the bag you had been keeping at the Weasley's, and you went through your trunk one last time, making sure you had everything.

This year, walking through the train station, you were still stared at. But you didn’t care because an entire family surrounding you, and they all looked like you.

Your father gave you a lasting embrace before Fred followed you onto the train. He had waited for you, watching as you hugged your dad. He waved to your father, and his hand grazed your lower back as he walked behind you. The two of you found the compartment that had to be the most crowded of the lot.

Lee, Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Sarah, George, and now you and Fred, packed into a compartment, the entire room filled with busy conversation the entire ride.

It was weird to be in the Hufflepuff common room, your bedroom devoid of Ginny’s huffs as she rolled over to get comfortable, or Hermione’s anxious mumbles she said in her sleep. You pulled your blankets off of you, your legs feeling sore from the constant skating you had been doing for weeks.

Speaking of, you had made the decision to bring your skates to Hogwarts. You slipped them on, tightening the rainbow laces. You pointed your wand at the wheels and cast a silencing charm, so the turn of the wheels would be silent.

You carefully climbed the stairs from the Hufflepuff basement and looked both ways before you skated towards your destination.

Fred had been sitting under his covers, looking over the map as he usually did before he snuck to the kitchens. Out of habit, he looked at the Hufflepuff common room for your familiar name. He was shocked to see you across the castle, in a long-abandoned classroom. He suddenly lost his appetite and slid into some slippers.

He rested his forearm in the crook of the door, leaning against it. He watched you illuminated by the candles lit on the wall. You easily glided between the desks, twisting and turning, spinning, and navigating between them. His eyes followed you, your body moving naturally. He watched the sway of your hips as your wait transferred from foot to foot, the skates rolling against the smooth stone. You moved to the open space in the room, skating backward, your back to him. You turned just a few feet in front of him, and when you saw Fred, your surprise ran through your body. Your feet faltered and you bumped into a desk, making a loud crash.

He jumped from his spot in the doorway, closing the door behind him. He moved to you in two long strides, crouching to reach you on the floor.

“Are you alright?”

“You scared the shit out of me, Fred!” you said, smiling up at him.

“Couldn’t help it, I had to come see you,” he said smoothly, bringing the map from his back pocket.

“What? How did you know I was here?”

He unfolded a piece of paper and held it out to you. You took it in your hands and realized what it was. Before you could look at it for long, Fred took it back, a worried expression on his face.

“Filch is coming, he must have heard the noise,” Fred folded the map and put it back in his pocket.

Suddenly, his hands were on your waist, and he was guiding you to your feet. He looked around the room and saw the door to the supply closet.

With a wave of his wand, the flames of the candles were extinguished and he was pulling your gliding figure to the closet. The door closed just in time, and Filch burst in. You and Fred were pressed together, his hands still on your waist. You opened your mouth to ask him about the map, and one of his hands covered your mouth. He felt your soft lips, and his eyes locked onto yours. You heard Filch’s heavy feet stomping around the room and the screech of the desk against the floor.

Your mind was occupied by the lack of space between you, your back pressed to the door, and Fred’s warm hand on your face. He looked deeply at you, and his face was inches from yours.

You thought back to the day Ginny told you about how Fred felt, and you realized that you no longer had any hesitations about Fred. Standing this close to him, his leg slid between yours, his chest against yours, you felt what he felt. You fancied Fred.

Fred felt your lips curl into a smile beneath his hand. It was dark, so he couldn’t see your face, but he wished more than anything that he could. He heard the door close, and Filch was gone, but neither of you moved. Fred’s hand retracted from your mouth, moving to your neck. His fingers slipped under your hair, and his thumb rested in your jaw.

“Why did you come here?” you whispered.

“I like to watch you skate,” he answered, his voice devoid of any laughter.

“You’ve watched me skate for weeks,” you said quickly, inching your face closer to his, craning your neck to look up at him.

“I like to watch you,” he said without thinking, “I like you.”

You closed the space between you two. His lips were slow, and so were yours. You arched your back against the door, anything to get closer to him. His face was warm, and yours was cold. His lips pressed hard against yours, and the kiss held everything he had felt since he talked to you in the Three Broomsticks. It was all the nights he had ranted to George about you, all the times he had mentioned what little time it was until you’d finally be at The Burrow, all the times he looked at the map just to see your name, all the times his stomach had flipped just at the thought of you.

You pulled away, breathless, and he lowered his head to rest on your shoulder. His breathing was heavy, and your eyes had fluttered closed. He reached for his wand and said “Lumos,” just so he could see your pretty face and swollen lips.

He walked you back to the basement, and you shared another slow kiss. He had almost followed you down the stairs, watching you leave with your skates hanging from around your neck.

The next morning in the courtyard, Ginny was the first to notice.

“What happened?” she said, skeptical of your dazed face and the constant flush you had from just being near Fred.

He sat a few feet away in his own world, avoiding George and Lee’s conversation about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip.

You smiled at Ginny, and she furrowed her brows at you. You were about to tell her, but Ron fell with a thud onto the ground next to you.

“It’s been three bloody weeks and Snape’s already assigned 100 pages of reading,” Ron groaned, pulling a heavy textbook from under his arm. Hermione and Harry trailed behind him, sitting with much more grace than Ron had.

Hermione also noticed your at peace look and looked at you analytically.

You were finally able to tell them in the hall, during an extended period between classes.

“He kissed me last night,” you said with a blush.

“I told you!”

“Finally!”

You hushed them, a bashful smile coming to your lips. Fred passed the three of you, his eyes locked on yours as he walked. Over his shoulder, he sent you a flirty wink. You felt weak at the knees and was glad that you were leaning against a wall.

“Maybe he’ll ask you to Hogsmeade,” Hermione said, tugging you off the wall and in the opposite way Fred was walking. You looked over your shoulder to see him walking backward, watching you walk away.

“Knowing Fred, he’ll probably pull some elaborate prank or get fireworks to spell your name out,” Ginny said, watching you look at her brother.

Fred did something like that, the two of you in the courtyard, laying in the grass. He had pulled you from dinner just after you were dismissed, and he led you to the courtyard. You both stared at the sky, and he looked at you. You met his gaze and then he pointed at the sky.

In huge, shining, red words read “Y/n, Hogsmeade this weekend?”.

You smiled at him and nodded. His hand snaked to cup your cheek still laying down. He pulled you towards him, and you moved to look down at him, propped up on your elbow. His lips met yours, and the sound of more bursting fireworks flooded the air around you.

It was nearly Christmas now. You and Fred have been dating for a few weeks, and he invited you back to the Burrow for the holidays.

You accepted, and you trudged your heavy bag into the fireplace. It was filled with gifts for the Weasley’s, and you were feeling quite confident about it.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione stayed at school for the holidays, leaving you, George, Fred, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in front of a fire on Christmas eve.

You had called your father on your flip phone he had given you as an early Christmas present. He was coming over tomorrow for Christmas morning, and you felt incredibly content.

Coming back to the couch, tucking your phone into your pocket, you slipped back under Fred’s arm, curling into his side. Mr. Wealsey had already had a go at the device, and he just watched amazed at it fitting into your pocket so easily.

The next morning you were woken up by the sound of your father’s booming voice downstairs. You sat up, stretching, and looked over to Ginny’s bed. It was empty, the covers were thrown aside. You slipped on a large cardigan, pulling it around your cold arms and going downstairs.

You were met with what felt like a dream. All the Weasley’s sat around the table, eating a huge Christmas breakfast and drinking tea. They each wore matching sweaters with their initials on them, and your father was standing with Mr. Weasley by the couch.

“Happy Christmas!” they all beamed at you.

Ginny tugged you over to the couch, sitting on one side of you while Fred sat on the other. Your father stood behind you on the couch, and a pile of presents were stacked in the room. You had brought your presents for the Weasley’s down last night, and you saw them on the ground.

Wrapping paper was everywhere, and the sound of happiness flooded the room. It finally came time for everyone to open what you had gotten them, and Fred went first. He tore away the red paper and held the plain box in his hands. He shook it, holding it up to his ear and smiling at you.

“Careful!” you told him, and he tore away the tape holding the box shut.

Inside, a brand new pair of garnet roller skates. He gasped, his large hands holding a skate up.

“Oh, my-” Mrs. Weasley said, already thinking of the awful thing he and George could do with those.

“It’s amazing!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you.

You returned the hug, and whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Fred.”

Soon, all the Weasley’s were holding different colored skates, even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

[poisonintopositivity]

(My Very Own) Top 20 Sterek Fics

Here is my very own Top 20 Sterek Fics (out of order)

For me, these fanfictions are a “MUST READ NOW!!!” kind of deal. These authors have so much talent, it’s incredible. These stories are just marvelous and deserve LOVE ! So, I decided to share them with you.

I’ve read most of these fics several times and some of them are even my bedside table books (with Harry Potter and the Prisonner of Azcaban and Jane Eyre)

So here we go!

1:  Enemy Lines by @qhuinn -  150k - Explicit - Dystopia - Enemies to friends to lovers - Action/adventure

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

2:  Actions Speak Louder than Words by @isthatbloodonhisshirt - 435k - Explicit - The BEST and slowest burn there is - Spark Stiles/Mute Derek - Friends to Lovers

“I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.”

That was a bad word. Not found.

Have.

Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment.

One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

3: Radio Tower by @hyperlittlenori - 130k - Explicit - Dystopia - Hope - Slow Burn/Build 

Everything was different. The world he knew was gone. It’d been a long time since he’d started thinking he was probably one of the last humans on earth, that out there the only sentient beings were those that would devour him whole. He wasn’t sure why he continued with the radio broadcasts, continued to talk into nothingness. The only explanation was that there was a spark of hope in him yet that he wasn’t alone. The lonely safety Stiles has built around an old radio tower in the middle of nowhere is about to be broken. Stiles isn’t sure if Derek is a harbinger of chaos or hope at the end of the world. 

4:  The Hollow Moon by @thepsychicclam - 180k - Explicit - Fix-It - Memory Loss - Slow Burn/Build

It's the summer after Stiles' first year of college, and he's working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he's okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn't care about, nope, not at all.

After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he's just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people.

5 :  Amor Fati by @alocalband  - 43k - Explicit - Consent is sexy - First Time - Fluff & Angst

When Stiles gets thrown into the bank vault about twenty minutes after him, Derek isn’t even surprised.As it turns out, neither is Stiles.

6 :  (not so) Pure Imagination by theroguesgambit - 33k - Explicit - Shared fantasies - Angst with a happy ending - hotdamn! 

"There is a world where whenever someone fantasizes about you, you can physically feel it, but you have no idea who is thinking it about you."

Stiles knows it's wrong, but he's been Fantasizing about Derek and he can't bring himself to stop. Derek doesn't know who's taken an interest in him, but he's enjoying it way more than he probably should.

7: What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm - 119k - Explicit - Wolf!Derek - Slow Burn/Build - Friends to Lovers

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

8:  Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by @devildoll - 77k - Explicit - Captivity - Feral!Derek - Angst with a happy ending

"Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf." An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

9 :  What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by @isthatbloodonhisshirt - 196k - Explicit - Soulmate - Slow Burn - Misunderstandings 

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!”

Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her.

“What?! What was that sound?!”

“You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder.

“Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!”

“Mike,” she argued.

“Who’s Mike?” Scott asked.

“Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

10 :  taste your beating heart by @cinematicnomad​ - 112k - Mature - Pack Dynamics - Slow Burn/Build - Stilinski Family Feels

Something was wrong in Beacon Hills. Derek was halfway across the country when he felt a call to return to his hometown, and somehow Stiles had been talked into letting the werewolf stay in his guest bedroom. This could lead to nothing good.

11 :  between the click of the light and the start of the dream by @thepsychicclam 105k - Explicit - Pack Dynamics - Getting Togheter - Fluff & Angst

A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void.

It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

12:  And You Say You're Alone by taelynhawker - 30k - Explicit - Pack Dynamincs - Bad Friend Scott - Romance

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

13:  Trust Fall by Stoney - 144k - Explicit - Body Swap - Hurt/Confort - Slow Burn/Build

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide.

Great. Wait...does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit.

****

Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over.

They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn't be calm and focused.

Of course.

14:  Gravity's Got Nothing on You by @zosofi - 84k - Explicit - Fake/Pretend Boyfriends - Humor - Romance

“Three weeks,” Derek says.

“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.

“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…

“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.

15:  Every Step You Take by @nokomiss - 49k - Mature - Magic - UST - Secret Feelings

Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super.

16:  Baking My Way Into Your Heart by theSilence - 179k - Mature - College AU/Coffee Shop AU - Slow Burn/Build - Friends to Lovers

Derek is an uptight college student, all work and no play. His carefully scheduled life is thrown kilter when his regular barista is replaced with someone new.

17:  Windows by @drgrlfriend - 83k - Explicit - Blind!Stiles - Friends to Lovers - Found Families 

Derek has a new neighbor who won't stop looking.

Excerpt:

“You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails.

“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.”

“Fuck, I...I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered.

“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —”

“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.”

“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

18 :  Just to See You Again by MellytheHun (@loserchildhotpants​) - 15k - Explicit - Love Letters - Getting Together - College AU 

A sterek college!AU where writing student Stiles specializes in love letters, runs a blog about it and can be commissioned to write love letters on behalf of lovers who are at a loss for words.

He makes some cash, he’s good at what he does (especially when he gets to be a little more explicit in his letters), it pays for his textbooks and that’s all he’s really looking for and life is fine. That is, until someone anonymously commissions him to write a love letter to mathematics student, Derek Hale.

19:  Chasing Slumber by @hyperlittlenori - 21k - Explicit - Post-Nogitsune - Porn With Feelings - Fix it

Stiles finds solitude and a glimpse at recovering from his ordeal with the Nogitsune in a dingy motel far from Beacon Hills. Inhuman blue eyes follow his silent struggles in the darkness of the room and he can no longer pretend to sleep, pretend he hasn’t been profoundly changed by all that has happened. He can only let his fingers stretch out across threadbare but clean sheets and clench around them, in a failed attempt at not reaching for Derek.

20 :  the thread is ripping by @thepsychicclam - 36k - Explicit - Pinning - Angst with a happy ending - Flashbacks

Stiles is 27 now, with a master’s degree and a career and a house and a serious boyfriend and a life in San Francisco that doesn't include Derek. But then Stiles unexpectedly shows back up in Beacon Hills, and Derek would recognize that scent anywhere.

If you are interested, feel free to check out my Sterek Fic Recs Collections on A03.

On this lovely note, happy reading guys!

[bi-zemo]

Unexpected wakings and many cups of tea - winterbaron

Authors note: this isn’t exactly romantic but while i was writing it i imagined it as them slowly realising they like eachother even if its not specifically stated.

cross-posted on ao3

They were in riga. The walls were thin and in the early hours of the morning zemo was awakened by the clink of china and a kettle boiling. He rolled out of bed rubbing his eyes before pulling on a robe and running a hand through his hair.

“Trouble sleeping james?”

The man startled in the dim light of the kitchen.

“Thought you were asleep.”

“Thin walls.”

Bucky was pouring a tea into one of the mugs zemo had tucked away in a back cupboard.

“Sorry. I’ll be quieter.”

Zemo glanced at the clock. 2:36 am.

“You mind if I join you.”

“Sure yeah.”

Zemo pulled a more refined tea cup and saucer from a cupboard, a strainer and teaspoon from a drawer.

“You wanna talk about why you’re awake this late?”

He spooned a delicate green tea and rose mix into the strainer before pouring the boiled water over.

“Not particularly.”

“Nightmares then.”

Bucky glanced at him.

“You forget I was also in the military james.”

Zemo lifted his finished tea to his lips, blowing on it to cool it.

“Yeah well i dont want to talk about it.”

“Thats fine, shall we see whats in my film collection?”

Zemo startled awake when the door buzzed then clanged open, his cells bright lights blinding him for a moment. When his vision returned he realised there was a familiar figure at the foot of his bed.

“James?”

“How did you do it.”

Zemo sat up, a half read book sliding off his chest.

“Forgive me my mind is not working at the moment. How did i do what?”

“The van”

Zemo chuckled slightly and ran a hand through his sleep messed hair.

“You’ll figure it out.”

He slid back into his warm bed and closed his eyes again.

“Oh for fucks sake.”

He was lifted from his bed, his usually composed manner slipping for a moment until he was thumped onto his feet.

“Tell me.”

“May i have something in return?”

“Depends.”

The two men looked eachother in the eye for a moment.

“Allow me to sleep in a comfortable bed for a night and let me tell you over dinner james.”

“Of course thats what you’ll want.”

Zemo cocked his head.

“Is that a no.”

James turned and left the room.

Zemo had just nodded off when he heard the door open yet again.

“The locked window and baby monitor wasn’t enough.”

“I dont trust you”

Zemo sighed into the thick pillows under his head. Attempting to sink further into the luxurious hotel mattress.

“At least just stay in the room. That door beeping is going to make me go mad.”

James paused for a moment before sinking into a velvet armchair across the room.

Zemo attempted to sleep again, pulling the heavy duvet up and closing his eyes, but he could feel buckys gaze on him.

“Relax james. I’m not going to escape in my sleep.”

Zemo was actually asleep when he was woken up the same night, this time by a yelp from the corner. He reached over and turned on the lamp.

“James?”

The normally intimidating man was asleep on his chair, squirming and making whimpers, almost like he was in pain.

Zemo approached the chair, hesitantly placing his hand on buckys flesh arm, but bucky almost jumped away in his sleep, toppling the chair and landing with a thump on the floor. He woke with a shout, kicking out so zemo also ended up falling.

“It was just a nightmare james.”

Buckys breaths were laboured and he was glancing at zemo, who still managed to look dignified after just waking up and being decked by a super soldier.

“Sorry”

“No need to apologise, i get them too. Though i have no doubt yours are worse.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the lamp light casting a golden glow across them both.

“I think you may have broken the chair.”

Buckys laboured breaths turned into a slight chuckle and he cracked a small smile.

“Yeah”

They stood in comfortable silence as zemo made tea for the two of them in the hotels kitchenette, buckys eyes half closed with exhaustion and zemo slightly less uptight than usual.

“Camomile and honey.”

Bucky gently took the teacup from zemos hand, the vibranium fingers barely clinking against the cup as he held it delicately.

“Thank you.”

Zemo took his own cup, the same but with more honey, and leant slightly against the counter, smiling slightly at the view of bucky taking such caution with the fragile cup.

“I believe I read the hotel has netflix, care to join me for a film?“

“Ok, but nothing too pretentious.”

Bucky blinked open his eyes, light streaming through the curtains onto his face, the credits of some sokovian kids movie rolling down the tv.

Zemo, the one who chose the movie,had also nodded off part way through, evident by the heavy head on buckys flesh arm. He could feel the mans chest move with his breaths, the gentle movement soothing bucky as he attempted to fully wake up.

He slid out of zemos grip, heading to the kitchen as the man woke from the sudden movement.

“English breakfast tea, two sugars, right?”

Zemo yawned, running a hand through his hair. “Huh”

Bucky smiled to himself and put the kettle on to boil.

[harryhoney-bee]

Tonight

You have sex for the first time with Harry. Virgin!reader. This is the 3 and last part! Hope you guys like it!

Words count: 2.2k words.

Masterlist

You were driving to Harry’s house. Almost in his place, but you could not stop thinking.

It was Friday night.

Friday nights mean date nights with Harry.

Usually, you are excited for this day to come, but right now, you were anxious, not the “good anxiety”, like feeling butterflies on your tummy, but the kind you feel sweat in your hands and just wanna hide in your room.

The reason for your concern is… sex.

You got the sensation that tonight is the night. Tonight, you won’t be a virgin anymore, and the best part of it all, you will have sex with Harry, the best boyfriend in the whole world.

You were happy, of course, you were, but the stressful feeling and the fear of him not enjoying this because of your inexperience were having the best of you.

Before you notice, you were at his place. But something was off, all the lights were turned off, not just of his house, but the whole street. You park your car and leave it to go to the door, knocking; Harry was immediately at the door. He opens and gives you the prettiest smile and hugs you.

“Hey baby, I was a little fearful with you driving down the street with the light off, it can be dangerous”. And he smells your hair “Somebody came ready huh? Really good perfume, love”

And he leaves a little space so you could walk in. It was dark, but he managed to put on a lot of candles, so there were romantic vides, but also terror movies vibes.

Stop thinking of horror movies (y/n), come on.

“Of course, you like the perfume, you were the one who gave it to me, dummy” And you pack him on the lips for the first time. His hands go to your hips, holding you tightly deepening the kiss. With this kiss, you got no doubt, you were having sex, and you weren’t so scared anymore.

He ends the kiss and pats your cheeks. “You are gorgeous love; in the light of these candles you look so golden.”

You flush “You are not bad too, Hazz. Love you”

He puts a hand on the side of your shoulder, guiding you in the direction of the dinner table, which was set with a fancy set of red and yellow tablecloth. “Love you too, sit here while I go to the kitchen get the food”

You sit down and watch as his silhouette vanishes through the door. You look at the table, there was a big candle in the center of it, bit the side of a… bottle of red wine. You take a glass of wine and drink a little. You were in the half of it as Harry comes back with a recipient of Winter Squash Lasagna. And he sits with you.

“See that you already fond yourself with wine, love”

“Got to be ready for tonight, right? Alcohol may help a little” You chuckles.

“What do you mean by ‘ready for tonight’?” He askes while taking your plate and serving you food.

Oh my sweet Jesus, why do I respond? Does he even want to have sex with me? Last week when you gave him a blowie, looked like he wanted to do more stuff in the future, but what if he changed his mind?

You look away and start talking fast “Like, you know…sex? Isn’t what we are doing tonight? It’s been a week since the blowie and I just thought we both would like this to happen… I-I mean… don’t you want? ‘Cus it’s ok if you…”

“Baby, come down, will yah?” He says putting both hands on your shoulder for you to smooth. “First, we are not doing anything you don’t want to. Second, I wasn’t thinking of us having sex tonight, I invited you so we can chill, I didn’t know you were ready for sex. But if you are 100% sure, we can do this. It’s up to you my love. I would just enjoy dinner” And he smiles at you, now holding your hand, giving a sensation of security.

“I was overthinking, wasn’t I?” You ask, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Just a little bit, love. But I am serious, I am up for anything you want to do, just want you to feel good” And he starts to eat, and you do as well. You even forgot about the dinner in front of you.

“I-I want to, like, really want. I am just a little nervous. It’s my first time, and my first time with you... so, it’s a bit overwhelming” You says “By the way, this lasagna it’s amazing, Hazz”

He chuckles “Thanks baby, learned it from my mom. And you don’t need to feel overwhelming about anything. It’s just us having sex, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is” You smile, feeling comfortable.

You both finished your dinner, and the subject of sex was long forgotten. Even you forgot it, the one who was so uptight about it. You take the dishes and put them on the sink, raising your sleeves to start washing them. But Harry hugs you from behind. And whisper in your ear.

“What about you leave these dishes, huh?”

“But for them, you would have to clean them up, and it’s no fair, you already made all the food”

“Come on baby, don’t be stubborn. Let’s go to my room, are you okay with that?” He asks, kissing your neck

“Yeah, let’s go”

He holds your bum, and a little doing an impulse for you to jump, as you do it, you also clap your legs on your hips and start kissing him. He does his way to his bedroom, never leaving your mouth or the end of your ass.

As he both got into his bedroom, he lays you on the bed, ending the kiss and looking into your eyes.

“Hey, if don’t feel comfortable about something, let me know. And if you don’t want to do nothing at all, you also let me know, understood?”

His authority and softness give you a confidence boost. You needed him.

“Yeah, Harry”

“Good girl”

Harry starts kissing your neck, sucking on the skin. He leaves a trace of saliva in all on your neck, your nails go to his back, scratching his skin calmly.

You grab the hem of his shirt, taking it off his body. You couldn’t see much because of the darkness, and in his room only have one candle.

“Someone is in a hurry, huh?”  He teases you, biting on your ear.

He does the same with your shirt, leaving you just in a black bra. His mouth goes to your jaw, and his hands cup your breasts.

“So beautiful, love”

“Please Harry” You didn’t even know what you were asking for.

Harry holds your ribs bringing your body to his, this time, your mouth attacks the skin of his neck, as his hands open the lock of your bra, freeing your soft pair of breasts. His tongue immediately meets with your hard nipple. Now, your month it’s no longer connects with his body, instead, your hand passes through his hard, pushing it hard. You feel his tongue do zigzag in your nipple, sucking firmly.

He puts you on your knees on the bed, grabbing your jeans and bringing it down slowly, kissing your tummy, from your belly button to your hipbone. You help him take your clothes, leaving you only in your panties.

You do the same to him. His belt and pants are along with the rest of your outfit on the floor. Both of you are feeling like horny teenagers, and it feels great.

Harry hovers over you, your bareback reach the steady mattress. He kisses you passionately.

“Can I touch you, baby girl? See if you are ready for me?”

“Yes Hazz, please do it”

His fingers go underneath the fabric of your underwear, he plays if your labia, before going to the beginning of your entrance and feeling the wetness there was.

“So wet love, just for me”

His fingers start to rub your clit fervidly, and his other hand cups your jaw, holding it tight and your lips met again.

“Harry, let’s do it, I need you”

“Ok princess, just let me know if you have any discomfort”

He drags your panties down to your heels, and you just throw the fabric on the floor, as well as his boxer, his hard member is free.

You are both bare.

You cup his cheeks and kiss him. He positions himself in your cunt.

“I’m going, ok love?”

“Ok, baby,” You say with an anxious voice.

You feel his head in, he slides a little more, but stop as your face does not look so good.

It hurts bad, you know the first time is not supposed to be all pleaser, but man, it hurts.

“How does it feel, darling?” He asks, worries on his face.

“Don’t feel good Harry, like, stings, I don’t know. But keep on going, the pain will go away.” You say and kiss his nose.

“Just tell me if you want me to pull off. I’ll stay still until you say so. But I’ll make you feel good, my love” He packs you on the lips, and his fingers go to your clit, rubbing it.

You moan, it was getting better.

5 minutes, and then you feel the urge for him to move.

“Hazz, you can move, put it all in”

“Are you sure, babygirl?”

“yeah,” you say between your moans. His hands are amazing.

He does as you askes, the feeling of burn stays.

“You are so fucking tight,” He says and attacks your lips, rubbing your clit even more.

“You can move Harry, but do it slowly, please”

“Yeah, alright baby girl, so good you are”

He starts thrusting in and out, slowly. When all of he is out of you, it’s hard to pull it back inside, because you are so snug inside.

His fingers do wonder in your clitoris, they go from right to leave, left to right. His kisses are so wet, it all feels good, the pain is still there, but in less intensity. And then you feel in your belly, the feeling of bliss. Your back raises as your orgasm comes.

“Harry, I think I’m gonna cum” You say with a whisper

“Come to me princess, I got you, come on, I am so close too, my love”

His mouth meets your nipple, and you can’t hold the bliss anymore.

Moans leave your mouth as your hold Harry’s hair. You feel your cunt walls squeezing his cook. And your orgasm washes over you.

“Damn baby, you so fucking hot, gonna cum, want my cum, darling?”

“Yeah, give it to me, Hazz”

And he does, your cunt milks him dry, everything he has to give to you, he gives.

He moans feel so good in your ear.

He falls, putting half of his weight on you.

“We did it,” You say, looking at him, he was fucked up

“We did it, you are not so innocent anymore, my baby”

Your giggles and hit him on the shoulder. As you do this movement, you feel him still inside of you, and the business comes out again.

“Harry, can you pull out? It hurts a little”

“course baby girl, I’m sorry,” He says pulling out of you, when he does it, he sees there is a little bit of blood on his dick, your tights, and in the mattress.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, ok baby? I’ll bring a towel, it’s a mess down there” And he kisses your forehead, you blush hard.

“Mm, ok”

You see him leaving, when he does it, he grabs his boxer but doesn’t wear it.

You start to feel something leaving your pussy, so you go and take a look.

Man, it was a mess, there was Harry’s cum, your wetness, and blood. You felt a little embarrassed, but you knew it was normal to happen with some girls.

After some minutes he comes back with a towel, this time wearing his boxers.

“How are you feeling, princess, does it hurt?” he questions you, patting your cheeks.

“It stings a little, but I think I am ok. I enjoy it very much” You say smiling at him.

He chuckles “I did it too, it was amazing, wasn’t it? But right now, I need you to lay down, so I can clean you up”

You do as tell.

“Open up, princess”

You open your legs for him and feel the friction of the soft fabric against your skin.

“Don’t put too much pressure, it stings a little”

“Sorry baby, but you are already cleaned up. Just finished here” And he places the towel on the side of the bed “Wanna take a bath? Or eat something? Are you in anyYeahd of pain? Or are y…”

You interrupt him with a pack on the lips.

“I am ok baby, thanks, just wanna cuddle”

“I can give my baby a lot of cuddles,” He says, putting you on his laps, laying them both on you down.

“You are my baby, (y/n).”

[aellynera]

Frayed Wires (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

FRAYED WIRES (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

(so i decided i may turn the drunk texts thing into a series? i decided at least to do one with Nathan because...well...it’s Nathan. the poem he quotes is Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley, who was incidentally married to Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein (or: The Modern Prometheus) which is also kind of appropriate for Nathan and anyway i sat down today and this happened.)

Word Count: 2122(ish)

Summary: All you want to do is sleep. All Nathan wants to do is talk.

Warnings: Language, naturally.

(Nathan’s texts are in bold. Your texts are in bold and italic.)

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You reached blindly for your phone as it rattled on the bedside table. You had no idea what time it was but you did know it was the middle of the night, your phone should not be going off, and you had gotten entirely too little sleep. Like, maybe two hours worth. You were so tired and groggy that you made the mistake of checking your messages before you actually even thought about what you were doing.

Do you ever think about the meaning of life?

I mean like really think about it.

Why we’re here, why the sky is green and the grass is blue?

No wait that’s not right.

You sighed and buried your face in the pillow. It was 3:27 in the morning and Nathan was texting you. Which was just odd anyway, since he knew where your room was and it was much more his style to just walk in and start a random conversation with you in person. 

He was probably drunk.

And now he could see that you had read the messages, so you were going to have to reply, or he really would show up at your door. Technically it was his door, it was his house, you just worked for him and stayed there, but the point was you were not in the mood to deal with him at all right now, and most decidedly not in the flesh.

You rolled your eyes before sending him a reply. You really should just ignore it, but...you were annoyed. Nathan was annoying. And it was now 3:30 in the morning and you were going to push a few buttons. Figuratively AND literally! your sleep-deprived brain cheered.

And things like why is water wet and air is invisible?

YES exactly see that’s why I want you.

I’m sorry?

Your brain. I want to pick you up. Your brain I mean. Pick your brain.

You just want me for my brain, huh?

You have a very nice brain.

Yep, Nathan was definitely drunk.

Not that him being drunk was anything out of the ordinary. But a few hours ago, when you were both in the lab testing some of his most recent ideas about the AI code, he had seemed...normal? Well, normal for Nathan anyway. He wasn’t irritated, he wasn’t condescending, he was actually (you honestly could not believe you were even thinking this) pleasant to be around.

You had been working for Nathan as his personal assistant for a few months. It was a promotion for sure over being a code slinger in a cubicle, but sometimes you honestly wondered what made you say yes to this bizarre existence. It was a beautiful house, beautiful scenery, interesting and highly intellectual conversations...when Nathan was sober.

There was also something you could never quite put your finger on. Something that was shifting as the weeks went on and you spent more time working alongside Nathan in the lab. As you spent evenings eating sushi and steaks and whatever else you were in the mood for that night (most nights, he actually let you choose the menu, you realized.) As you took afternoon walks around the estate, just taking in the scenery. As you debated various philosophies and ideas and theories and tried your damndest to prove Nathan wasn’t always right about everything. He almost seemed like he appreciated it all, but he would never say anything.

And you weren’t about to open that can of worms. Especially when he wasn’t sober.

How drunk are you right now?

On a scale of shitfaced to really fucking blitzed I would say I’m feeling no pain.

Jesus Christ. Well that was obvious. It was obvious just from the fact that he was texting you. Nathan was so uptight about security and data leaks and wiretapping and signals being hijacked (he’d admitted to doing it himself, so he did have a point) but had decided, after much insistence from you, that rigging the cell phones to only work inside the compound was an acceptable idea. It was so vast, you’d said, and what if something happened and one of you was all the way across the house or down in the lab, how were you supposed to let the other person know? It made sense at the time.

Now you were vaguely regretting it.

You could count on one hand the number of times you’d actually considered your boss to be pleasant to be around, and you still had your thumb left over just in case you needed to add to that tally.

At least personality wise. He was definitely pleasant to look at. Very pleasant.

You coughed and cleared your throat. That was not a line of thought to travel right now. The proper course of action was to get him to stop texting you.

A few minutes passed in glorious silence. Maybe a new, shiny thought had occurred to him and he was madly writing it down on a Post-It note. Maybe he just got bored and went to get a new drink. Maybe he’d finally just passed out and---

What are you thinking about?

Dammit. How to make you shut up, your brain snapped back. How to get you to let me sleep. How good your arms and shoulders look in that tank top after you’ve been hitting that punching back and you’re flushed and sweaty and…. Oh no. No no no. Stop it right now, brain.

Nathan hated to beat around the bush. Straightforward was the best policy with him, right?

How to get you to shut up and let me sleep.

Wonderful, glorious silence for exactly forty-six seconds.

Bro...that’s...so not cool.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Why were you participating in this? Why was he? You narrowed your eyes and looked toward a corner of your room. You hoped he could see you glaring into the camera that you knew was there and that he was watching while he was texting you. If not, you were sure he would watch it in the actual morning and you hoped the look was withering enough to make him think twice. Probably not. Because this was Nathan Bateman.

Your incredibly narcissistic, incredibly intelligent, incredibly attractive...stop it brain.

But he was pushing your buttons right back. Neither of you could ever really back away from an exchange like this..

I’m not your “bro”, Nathan. Please knock this shit off.

Dude, it’s a figure of speech.

I’m not your dude, either. Please just stop talking.

What’s wrong with dude. Dude is a gender neutral term, anyone can be a dude. Guys are dudes, chicks are dudes, dudes are dudes

Yeah, well, you’re kind of being an asshole, dude.

Dude. Chill.

Turning my phone off now.

No, wait, don’t. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.

Now that was...unexpected. Nathan Bateman just apologized to you? For being a drunk asshole in the middle of the night? Your eyes narrowed again. Suspicious.

You’ll stop texting me so I can go back to sleep?

No not that. I’ll stop calling you dude.

Oh for the love of...you closed your eyes and briefly considered the merits of hurling your phone at the surveillance camera.

Nathan, seriously, can we please just leave this until the morning?

A whole minute of wonderful, glorious, blessed silence this time. You couldn’t believe he might be considering this.

You were right.

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away

If a brain cramp was an actual thing, yours would most certainly be doing it now. You could barely even process it. He was drunk as hell and he was quoting poetry to you? You supposed you probably shouldn’t be entirely surprised, he’d quoted Oppenheimer once in a worse stupor (which you could only quantify because he had actually passed out that time.)

Are you fucking serious right now.

What.

Are you fucking quoting Ozymandias to me right now?

I am.

You couldn’t get the color of the sky right earlier, and now you’re just flawlessly quoting philosophical Romantic poetry at me?

I am.

You are not a normal person, Nathan Bateman.

What is normal anyway, besides really fucking boring? Who wants to be normal?

I would like to be somewhat normal, at least between the hours of midnight and 8am.

See, I knew there was a reason I liked you.

That was the second time he said that, you noted. You found it hard to believe. Nathan liked his work, his routine, his own brain. He liked talking about his work and how smart he was. Other than telling you that you were doing a great job, he barely handed out a single compliment, and if he somehow accidentally did, it was so backhanded you weren’t sure you could actually define it as one.

You mean you like my brain.

Well, yeah, your brain is fucking amazing. It has to be if you work with me.

I work for you, Nathan, not with you. But thanks?

No, no, see, that’s where you’re wrong. You work with me. We’re like partners. None of that employer employee bullshit.

Oooookay now I am one thousand percent sure you are completely piss drunk.

I am but that doesn’t make it any less true.

You could almost hear him saying those words in your head. You could see the way his eyebrows went up, the intensity in his eyes, the way he held his finger up to make the point.

The thought made your brain go slightly fuzzy, and not from exhaustion. Because now you were wide awake. Damn him.

Okay, Nathan, I’ll bite. What do I have to do to get you to stop doing this right now?

There was a pause before he answered, and you swore you’d heard a phone alert that wasn’t your own. It sounded like it was coming from...oh no, he wasn’t…

Getting tired of typing. Can I come talk to you for a while?

Are you outside my door right now?!

You heard the phone chime very clearly this time. He was, definitely.

I am.

You sighed, deeply. So deeply.

Is that really a good idea?

I think it’s a great idea.

Nathan, being serious here.

You could have sworn you heard him sigh from the other side of the door. He could have just come inside. It was his house, his keycard worked on all the doors.

But the door didn’t open.

So am I. Please can I come in? My mind just won’t shut off and I really am fucking drunk but talking to you is helping but tired of typing shit out, I’d rather say it to you.

I wanna see you. And tell you how sexy your brain is.

And that I like you for more than your brain.

And you knew in that instant there really was only one way to get him to shut up. And it was to just let him talk. It made sense, in an oddly Nathan kind of way. What’s the worst that could happen, really? He’d come in, you’d talk, he’d eventually pass out, maybe you could get a couple more hours of sleep, and then in the morning you’d either talk about it on a very deep cerebral level or you’d just pretend it had never happened at all. 

A press to the door release button on the side of the table and the latch let go. The door opened, revealing Nathan standing on the other side. Still wearing what he’d been wearing in the lab earlier that night, black lounge pants and that tight white henley he seemed to love so much. The corner of his mouth turned up in the most miniscule of smiles, but it was there.

You were about to toss your phone back onto the bedside table, when the text alert went off again. You shot an exasperated look in his direction, but gamely checked the message.

Did you mean what you said before? About biting?

You glanced up at Nathan and saw that the sliver of a smile had taken over most of his face and his eyebrows had raised to emphasize his question.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t text him back. You just nodded your head to the empty spot next to you in your bed.

You had a feeling you weren’t going to get any sleep tonight after all.

~end~

taglist: @anetteaneta​ @rosemarysbaby13​ @darksideofclarke​ @girlwiththemostcake​ 

(taglist is open, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future fics)

[shrinkthisviolet]

Author Interview Tag!

Tagged by @maipreciation, thanks for thinking of me! This looks really fun :D

(Note: I’m keeping this as a running list, so if you’re ever wondering what fics im working on/brainstorming, make sure to check here! Last update was on 12/12/2020)

Name: Lavi! As of 12/5, I’m no longer going by my real name (see this post)

Fandoms: so many 😂 check my bio, I think I have them all listed. I’ve posted fic for Hamilton and ATLA, and then there was a huge Inktober compilation I posted last year with a whole host of fandoms. Currently, my major fandom is ATLA, and probably Kipo as I’m starting to move through S1

Where you post: I have an AO3 (lavi0123)! I used to have an FFN and a Wattpad, but I don’t use either of those anymore :/ tbh, I’m embarrassed of anything I still have up there 😂

Most popular one-shot: Most definitely we’ll give the world to you (and you’ll blow us all away), one of my contributions to Maiko Week! I’m not surprised it’s an ATLA fic, but I find it interesting that a fic with Izumi in it blew up so quickly. But hey, if y’all want more Izumi content, you won’t be disappointed 😉

Most popular multi-chapter fic: ...I’m really embarrassed to say because I don’t think I’ll ever finish it...but En Hamilton Heights is the only multichap fic I’ve published so it’s gotta be that one 😂 hopefully soon I’ll have another fic to add to that, since I’m working on one (sorry EHH fans but it’s been too long and tbh I don’t remember where I was going with it :/ I’m thinking I might orphan it)

Favorite story you’ve written so far: you think this world is a dream come true (but you’re wrong) for sure! It’s super niche but it’s something I wrote out of love for a movie I discovered this Halloween and absolutely love. Though all you’ve got to do is want something (and then let yourself have it) is a close second. Basically, anything I write that sounds absolutely bonkers as a concept is one that I love 😂 (and it’s no coincidence that both fics are Mai-centric! I love all my Mai-centric fics nearly equally)

Fic you were nervous to post: Is there an “all of the above” option? 😂 I’m always nervous to post. But in particular, I was nervous for if you ran away (come back home), because it was Mai-centric and longer than any one-shot I’d written thus far, and also you think this world is a dream come true (but you’re wrong), because it’s Mai-centric and a Coraline AU, which makes it BONKERS as an idea

Why was I nervous to post Mai-centric fics, you ask? Two reasons: 1) Mai is very different from who I am as a person (I vibe a lot more with Aang and Ty Lee, sometimes Katara and Sokka), so I didn’t want to upset the Mai stans by writing her incorrectly. 2) Mai is generally not well-liked in the fandom at large, so I especially didn’t want to attract antis who would accuse me of writing Mai as too emotional and loving (which is why I tried to justify that in my tags). Luckily, my comments have all been lovely, and I’m far less afraid to post fics about her now that I’ve written three fics with her as the focus! And the shoutout from @nonbinary-crafter-aang praising my portrayal of her?? I was touched 🥺 still am

How you choose your titles: Song lyrics or movie/book lines that speak to me, occasionally a pun. Remember that post I rb’d about how authors title their works? My tags pretty much say it all 😂

Do you outline: Ehh...define outlining 😂 for my one-shots, nope. But for my upcoming multichap works (see below) and Nanowrimo work (original fiction, so I won’t talk about it on here, but send an ask if you’re curious), YES ABSOLUTELY!

For my Nanowrimo work and one of my upcoming AUs (a Soulmate AU), the worldbuilding is so complex that it’s an absolute necessity. For the other upcoming AU (a time travel AU), there are just too many things that need to happen at certain times so as not to interfere with canon events, and things I want to change from canon and things I want to keep...I think you get the idea 😂

Complete: Basically my entire maiko halloweek series! Check it out if you want some fics about the most underrated canon ATLA couple :)

In-progress: ...En Hamilton Heights again...but not for long, sadly. Still trying to decide between a quick conclusion and just flat-out orphaning it. Still haven’t made up my mind, but either way, it won’t be what I originally planned, unfortunately.

I’m also counting my ATLA Soulmate AU on the basis of forever in my mind (only you), which has the worldbuilding and fits into the AU without much problem (the AU is going to be a series of one-shots, not a multichap fic, because there won’t be enough deviations from canon imo to justify multiple chapters. And one-shots are just less pressure for me 😂)

[EDIT 12/12/2020: added another fic because I’m an idiot and forgot about this too 🤦‍♀️😂 it’s a year-old idea that I started writing but I’m picking it back up thanks to the Heist banter in MatPat’s St Jude stream!]

-A fic series combining Escape the Night and Who Killed Markiplier (Heist and Date are part of it too, but only tangentially at the moment. Depends on how involved I want DA Y/N to be). Tentatively titled A Heavy Cost, and definitely won’t happen in any of Mark’s projects, but in a way that’s actually for the best 😂 the canonicity for me stops at ETN S3 (with some S4), then it’s canon divergence

Coming soon/not yet started: OOOH YESSS HERE WE GO

Okay okay sooo we’ve got two main things:

–An ATLA Soulmate AU, featuring platonic and romantic soulmates! I know I called it in-progress, and I stand by that even though I haven’t actually set up the series on AO3 yet, but this AU is about to be SO MUCH MORE than just a few Maiko moments. Because...drum roll...it’s gonna be entirely Aang-centric (with maybe one or two exceptions)! Like Mai, Aang is a character that doesn’t get as many -centric fics as he should (and being an Aang stan also isn’t unanimous for some reason??), so I’m gonna fix that. Plus I want to dive further into his mind, and I think I’m more equipped to do that than I was with Mai, since Aang and I are very similar in attitude.

–Bumizumi time travel AU, which can be read as platonic until the last couple chapters (it’ll be multichap) but definitely has a romantic agenda throughout. So just. Be warned if you don’t ship them. It’s gonna be chock full of comedy and antics! Also A LOT of platonic affection between Izumi and teen Zuko (and just between Izumi, Bumi, and the Gaang in general), because platonic affection is underrated and also I can :D I’m also probably gonna make fun of how some elements of affection have become solely romantic territory, because...um, no, hugging and holding hands and cuddling can be done between friends, thanks! (Maybe it’s the ace in me talking. But regardless)

There are also vague concepts I’m spitballing, like:

-Zukaang telepathy AU (Platonic Zukaang, the only romance I’ll ever write in ATLA is for the canon ships, prompted by a dream because apparently ATLA lives in my head rent-free forever now 😂)

-Evil Zuko AU (Azula doesn’t exist, mostly prompted after watching Aang make fun of Zhao and realizing that if Zuko had been in any position of power during the War...the Gaang would have stood no chance at all)

-Bumizumi Arranged Marriage AU (Bumi and Izumi both think the other is hotheaded/reckless (Izumi @ Bumi) or uptight (Bumi @ Izumi). So Kataang and Maiko (along with Sukka, Ty Lee, and Toph because...duh) set them up in an arranged marriage, with the presented reasoning being that they already know each other’s families, it’ll be a great symbol of unity, and this way Izumi doesn’t have to worry about suitors. They both agree to it (it’s arranged, not forced), and over time, they warm up to each other...and maybe even...fall in love?? Prompted because we need more arranged marriage fics! On that note, I’m gonna plug shadows and steel by @dearestpartnerofgreatness because arranged marriage needs more rep and this fic does it and with Maiko to boot!)

-Zukaang as Brothers AU (I saw a fic about this, but it wasn’t complete. If it’s not done by the time I get to this concept, I’m gonna write it, because just...imagine the possibilities! Zuko and Aang are already basically brothers in canon anyway, this is just making them brothers in blood as well as in their hearts. This is especially vague because I have no concept of how this is gonna work 🤷‍♀️ I’ll get to it eventually)

(Can you tell I’m obsessed with Zuko and Aang’s friendship? Because I am!)

[EDIT 11/25/2020: I’m adding two more because I forgot these have been swirling around in my head too 😂]

-A fix-it fic based on May You Always Be Satisfied, a backstory fic for Who Killed Markiplier by @blackaquokat! I recently reread it and remembered that I was gonna write a fix-it for that fic. Not because the fic sucks, it’s actually amazing! I’m just a sucker for the main (requited unrequited) pairing, and there’s at least five ways to make that pairing canon and avoid the mess of Who Killed Markiplier. And THEY ALL DESERVE TO BE HAPPY OKAY

-A Finnrey fix-it for the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy (this one is especially vague, and I probably won’t write it since a bunch of these already exist, but it’s fun to think about. Maybe if I ever run out of WIPs 🤷‍♀️)

Upcoming story that you’re most excited to write: I’m equally excited for the Soulmate AU and the Bumizumi Time Travel AU! I’m also excited for my Nanowrimo work to be finished, but that’s more so in-progress than upcoming

Tagging:

@nonbinary-crafter-aang @dearestpartnerofgreatness @ohsalamanders @blackaquokat (no pressure ofc, only if you want to! But please tag me if you do, I’d love to see it!)

[thevoilinauttheory]

FFXIVWrite2020 Prompt #13 - Extra Credit

Character(s): Caromont Allard, Astrid Allard; a couple unnamed tutors and teachers. Setting: Sharlayan (Motherland); approximately 1475 of the Sixth Astral Era -- approximately 1480 of the Sixth Astral Era -- approximately 1494 of the Sixth Astral Era, just before the events of Prompt #22 What: Caromont is introduced to his new abilities, much to his dismay. Content Warnings: Explicit physical and emotional, familial, abuse; implications of trauma Author Notes: My spouse wanted more Caromont lore, so I used it as my extra credit prompt. Honestly, that’s all I gotta say. I had fun writing this one, because Caromont is my “enigma” character. Everything about him is hidden under the veil of the classic case of amnesia, but even if he does remember - no one ever knows, he doesn’t communicate if he’s remembered anything or not. So even in my private RP with my spouse, he’s still something of a mysterious character. --

Violet eyes cast a glance outside of the window of his classroom, it was a nice day. He was stuck here. Again. And again. And again. Everyday it was the same thing. When the click of a switch against the podium at the front assaulted his ears, he flipped the page of the book in front of him with no regard to the words written. Another snap, another page. There were whispers of other students beside him - he paid no mind. There were clouds to watch and he was far more interested in those. Crack, flip. Whap, flip. 

“Allard!”

The boy’s head whipped to the front suddenly, his attention drawn by the sudden shout of his name. When he realized it was just his teacher, his posture relaxed, eyes squinting into a pure sense of utter boredom. He exuded it as he slid his arm over his desk to rest his head on his fist. The eye contact showed that he was listening… at least more intently than before, yet he said no words. His teacher walked her way to his desk, snatching up his textbook.

“The answer to number four, please.”

A deliberate attempt to sabotage him, taking away the text he paid no attention to and asking a question on it. It would’ve made any student fluster, yet the boy didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. “Teleporting is breaking down your aether and confluencing it with the Lifestream, carrying you to your destination so long as you don’t break contact with your thoughts. There are dangers to teleporting, such as losing focus and losing self - where your aether cannot conjoin together. Other effects can be severe aether sickness, crystal sickness, and possibly ending up at a different location.” Before any words could be spoken, he continued. “Aether sickness is caused by an increased intake of aether, causing a variety of symptoms such as nausea, vomiting, migraines, dizziness, vertigo, and temporary blind and deafness. There is no known cure for aether sickness, and it’s recommended to just let it pass. If it does not, though, a transfer of aether can be used to reduce the amount of aether stored in another’s body.” A sharp inhale. “This can also lead to aether deprivation, where there is too low of aether in another’s body; causing malnourishment, lack of appetite, inability to move certain body parts, loss of certain bodily functions, and numbness - death, within a matter of bells or suns.”

His eyes turned back to the window. “Answers four, five, and six. I am paying attention, and I dislike that you are accusing me of not.”

His teacher let out a soft sigh, setting his book down, then returned to the front of the class - allowing the child to continue daydreaming in peace.

When his classmates filed out at the first sound of the bell, he gathered up his belongings slowly and meandered his way to the door. “Caromont.” “Mm?” “Stay here, your mother will be arriving shortly.” “What did I do wrong? I answered your questions, did I not?” She shook her head. “It’s for both praise and punishment. You’re above your class clearly, but it feels as if you’re not invested in this path.” “I am not, I would much rather be doing something else.” “Then why do you continue?” “My mother wants me to. It’s the best way to make money and take care of my family.”

There was another shake of her head, yet she gestured to the door. “Take a seat outside.”

When his mother appeared, near stomping down the hall; heels clicking- he hated that noise. She could afford nice heels, but not a proper bed for her children. Nice clothes, nice makeup. In his loathing, he neglected to realize she was right beside him and a hard yank on one of his ears made him cry out. “What did you do this time! Ungrateful child, I send you to school and you do nothing but get in trouble!” “I do not want to be here, regardless! Let go!” He tried to pry her hand off, but her nails caught the cartilage, causing a sob to break from him. “Stop!”

“Mrs. Allard, if you please.” His teacher caught her before a hand could crack over his face - a save he couldn’t have been more grateful for. She seemed to recognize the situation, then smiled. “There is naught for him to be punished. I wanted to give only praise and a proposition.” A change in her previous statement. “Is that right? Why didn’t you say so before?” His mother let go of his ear, following his teacher inside the classroom while he was left outside to tend to his injured and now bleeding ear.

“I wished to convey just how brilliant your son is, he is far ahead of his peers in his aetherology studies - and I believe he is ready to move on to higher skills. Might I suggest astrology? He seems keen on being outside, and studies regarding the stars would allow him that enrichment he needs. He could be Sharlayan’s greatest healer with just a bit more effort and motivation from outside sources, such as his family.” She stacked up some papers, sitting herself down at her desk. “I can provide the necessary documentation of his successes, and present it to the head of the board. He’ll be ready to move on by next moon. Until then, I would have him stay and take tutoring classes to help him further. No extra charge, I assure you.”

“I see… if you believe he’s got that much talent wasting away in him, I suppose moving him forward wouldn’t hurt. Tutoring - if he’s so brilliant, then why--” “Because he will be entering in the middle of the school year, Mrs. Allard, and he will need to catch up on everything his new peers have already learned. Just because he has mastered this class does not mean he is a born master of every other class. You expect too much of the boy, he needs to be nurtured, and he needs to grow; and I will be frank with you - you are stifling him. Do not get in his way, or you will be the cause of the rift between you and your family.”

--

“Take your reading now, Caromont - allow yourself to connect with the gates as we last practiced. Your first reading is always the most important, to see your progress.” His mentor sat on the other side of the desk from him, watching intently to Caromont’s now bright-eyed enthusiasm to his new path. He hadn’t thought of astrology - while Sharlayan was well known for their astrologians, he never considered something like that to speak to him.

The first card was flipped over. “The Spire.” He spoke softly, and he allowed the card to speak. It hurt at first. He rubbed at his temples and within a few seconds his head hit the table as if he had fallen asleep there. His mentor quickly stood to check on him, frightened that something might have gone wrong - but when his head snapped back upright with his eyes wide, he turned to his mentor in tears. “...I- I-... I am sorry… I did not mean…” “What is wrong, child? Dear heavens, I thought you had performed a spell wrong.” “N-No.. I just. My reading is for you… and this position is the past, with the Spire, and… I saw. I saw what happened, I…” “Saw? You saw the past with the flip of a card?” “I just wanted them to speak to me…” “Cards don’t speak, Caromont. The stars do. I think… we may need a different tutor for you. I do not know if there is anyone with your talent, but. I do know that we have a section of professors and students all learning about an innate ability we have called the “Echo”. I would like to make certain that if you do have the Echo, you have a proper tutor to teach you about it - despite the fact that it manifests differently in everyone.” He gestured to the cards again. “Sit upright this time, against the back of the chair instead of forward. Close your eyes after drawing the card.”

He followed. The next card was drawn. “The Spear.” Immediately, he closed his eyes; still the tears fell. He shook his head as his eyes opened again. “...Maybe I should not do readings on you… I see too much.”

--

“No, this isn’t the Echo.” “Are you sure? What other explanation could there be for such a talent?”

Caromont was the talk of the Studium. Professors and peers wanted to know more about his ability - this was the day that his enthusiasm turned to responsibility. He hadn’t realized it yet. 

“The stars speak right to him!” Those were the rumors. There had to be more, a person, or magic… something was doing this to him. He delved in libraries for years to tell him, what was he, what was he supposed to do? Everyday it was another person in need of help - everyday he had to make the choice whether someone should live or die - how heavy a burden on a man barely thirty winters old. Was this his fate and destiny? His cards were blank when he tried to read them for himself - like the stars only spoke through him, rather than to him.

He stood out in the dark, up at the sky did his eyes turn. He was never a wishful thinker, he was studious, uptight, he had to be the responsible one. This was the night he cried. He cried and he cried - how many more times would he have to sentence people to their deaths, how many more times would he have to tell people that there was nothing he could do. He would take the fates into his hands time and time again, always promising to never do so again. Everytime, the consequences of doing so would be worse than the original outcome - the fates ever escaping his grasp. He only wanted to help, why was he burdened with this responsibility?

[singledarkshade]

Stress Relief

Summary: Stuck with the annoying Lieutenant Coburn on a mission, Rip is being driven crazy. But it's a mission that will change his life forever. Author’s Note: Rip Week Day 4: Time for Romance – Rip is a romantic at heart, ship him with whoever you think is right for him. Any pairing goes. I chose Miranda and Rip.                                ********************************************* “Your mission is one that shall require you both to practice patience,” Druce said as Lieutenant Rip Hunter and Lieutenant Miranda Coburn stood side by side at attention in his office, “I was against pairing you two, considering your inability to be in the same room without almost every discussion becoming an argument. However, you have the specialities that are required to ensure that the mission is successful.”

“What is the mission, sir?” Miranda asked before Rip could.

“You are being dispatched to ensure that the exploratory mission to Neptune in 2151 is successful,” Druce stated, “We have received information that there will be an attempt to disrupt it.”

Rip glanced at Miranda before asking, “And this requires both of us?”

“You are to work together,” Druce ignored the question and continued, “Lieutenant Hunter, your technical expertise will be required to fix any issues with the probe that may occur, while Lieutenant Coburn, as the more qualified pilot, will be there to ensure that it is flown into the right part of the planet if required.”

“Sir, I can…” they both started, stopping and frowning at one another.

Druce stood, “These are your orders. You will be taking the Waverider.”

“Sir,” Miranda frowned, “Surely I should take my own ship with my own AI? Which was put together by the technical team and not...” she glanced to where Rip stood before finishing, “Hunter.”

“No,” Druce said, stopping her before she could argue, “One ship will be overlooked but two will be less easy to hide. I have made this decision and you’re dismissed.” When neither moved, he sighed, “Now.”

Druce watched as the two Lieutenants left his office. He counted to three before the door opened again and Rip appeared.

“No,” Druce stated sharply, “Lieutenant Coburn will be working with you on this mission and nothing you say shall change that. I understand that you two do not get along but, in a word, tough. Now get out of my office.”

Rip seethed in annoyance.

Coburn was not only arrogant but so uptight and smug that the next few weeks were going to be utter hell.

“Gideon,” he called as he entered his ship, the ship he had spent years returning to its former glory, “We have a mission and we’re going to have a guest for the duration.”

“The information has been uploaded to my system,” Gideon told him, “I have prepared a room for Lieutenant Coburn.”

Rip gave a slight smile heading up to the bridge, “Thank you, Gideon. Hopefully, this won’t last as long as Druce thinks it will.”

“Captain,” Gideon said. Although he was only a Lieutenant, Gideon always referred to him as Captain since he was in command of the ship, “Might I suggest that you look on this as a test of your patience.”

Rip rolled his eyes as he stepped onto the bridge, “Gideon, please stop channelling my mother.”

“Lieutenant Coburn is waiting to enter the ship,” Gideon told him.

Nodding Rip started his checks.

“Captain,” Gideon stated, “You are being childish.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “Let her onboard and show her where she’s staying. Although you probably shouldn’t refer to me as Captain while she can hear.”

“I am programmed…”

“I know,” Rip cut her off, “But considering Lieutenant Coburn’s love of the rules and how she will react to the title, especially since she’s going to be onboard for the next few weeks, please just do as I ask.”

There was several minutes of silence before Gideon replied, “Of course, Lieutenant Hunter.”

 Miranda walked onto the Waverider, irritated that she was being stuck with Hunter for the next few weeks. Druce’s golden boy had a tendency to disregard whatever rules he didn’t feel like following.

The fact he had a ship before graduating to the rank of Captain was something that had rankled all of them. Fine he had rebuilt the ship and fixed the AI, but the basic fact still annoyed her.

“Welcome onboard, Lieutenant Coburn,” Gideon spoke up, “I have a room ready for you.”

Miranda nodded, “Thank you, Gideon. Where is Lieutenant Hunter?”

“He is currently on the bridge readying the ship to leave,” Gideon replied, “As soon as you have unpacked, he has asked that you join him.”

“Tell him I’ll be a few minutes,” Miranda told her, entering the room that had been set aside for her.

Dropping her bag on the bed, she unpacked the spare uniform she’d brought with her and hung it up. Grabbing her hairbrush, she pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail making sure she looked like a proper Time Master. Hunter may ignore the regulations regarding his clothing when not on the base, but Miranda was not going to especially as she knew it would drive him crazy.

“Finally,” Hunter rolled his eyes the moment she walked onto the bridge, “Are you ready to go now?”

Sliding into one of the seats, Miranda pulled down the restraint, “Ready. Although as I am the better pilot surely it would make more sense if I piloted.”

“The Waverider is mine,” Rip replied sharply, “I’m flying.”

Smirking that she’d managed to rile him, Miranda leaned back and said nothing as they took off for their destination.

                                 *********************************************

 Rip sighed in annoyance, they’d been stuck here for almost two weeks waiting to see if the suspected Time Pirates would show up to stop the exploratory mission to Neptune, a hugely important even in human history.

Coburn was driving him crazy. She insisted that they follow the normal training regime they would back at the Vanishing Point despite the fact they neither needed to, nor were expected to.

And she was everywhere. The ship was big enough that they shouldn’t have to see one another except when they swapped to watch over the bridge and yet, every time he turned around there she was.

Sipping tea, nibbling a biscuit (never eating it properly she always nibbled), playing with her hair, leaning on the main console as she studied information Gideon provided while tapping one foot against the floor as she thought.

“Gideon,” Rip called as he headed to the galley, “Is there any indication there are pirates anywhere?”

“No, Captain,” she replied, “Lieutenant Coburn has readjusted the scanners during the night to ensure accuracy.”

Rip let out a long sigh, “Of course she did. Can’t she leave anything alone?”

“The scanners are ten percent more accurate now,” Gideon told him.

Letting out an annoyed snort, Rip headed to make himself some tea. Pulling out a mug to make Coburn one as well.

“Does she want something to eat?” Rip asked, as he programmed breakfast for himself.

“Lieutenant Coburn has asked for porridge with apple and cinnamon,” Gideon replied, “Along with the tea you were already making for her.”

Rip looked down at the fact he had two mugs in front of him, he hadn’t realised he’d done that. With a shrug he grabbed a tray and put the two mugs plus their breakfasts on it. Walking onto the bridge, he was surprised by how he felt heat rise in his neck when Coburn smiled at him.

“I take it there was no sign of any pirates?” Rip asked as he handed her the bowl with her porridge and her tea.

Laughing she shook her head before she closed her eyes taking a sip of her tea.

“I will give you this,” she smiled at him, “You know how to make a good cup of tea.”

Rip shrugged, his neck getting hotter as he replied, “Well, Mother taught me a few things.”

 Miranda chuckled amused as she began to eat. Even though this mission had been completely pointless so far, she actually enjoyed being on the Waverider. It was nice to spend some time away from the Vanishing Point, allowing her to go over some of her theories which to her surprise Gideon was really helpful with. Not to mention making Hunter do the daily training regime when he clearly found it irritating was fun.

They’d never gotten along.

They were both so competitive and it didn’t help that they were always pitted against one another. She also despised the fact that he’d had the Waverider since they’d been first year cadets. Logically she knew it was because his entry project was to rebuild Gideon, and he had managed it which allowed Gideon’s self-repair systems to fix the Waverider with his help. But it was still something that annoyed a lot of people.

However, over the past few weeks, watching him within his own ship had been interesting because it turned out he wasn’t as aggravating as she always thought him to be. When he didn’t realise that she was there, Hunter…Rip would sing to himself as he worked, on occasion singing with Gideon. She could see how much pride he had in the Waverider, it was kept in pristine condition and he worked on each system every few days.

To her surprise, he also made dinner from scratch rather than using the fabricator several times during the week. Miranda had been stunned when he made some for her as well but even more so that it was delicious.

“I can take over now,” Rip said as he finished his roll and sausage, “If you want to go get some sleep.”

Miranda shrugged, “I’m fine. Not really tired at the moment.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, “Well, Gideon can set up the firing range.”

“Is my company that awful?” Miranda teased, surprised at the soft blush that touched his pale features.

“Not really,” he murmured before adding, “I just thought you would want to get off the bridge for a while.”

“Gideon mentioned that you’ve been studying the Gosher Riots,” Miranda noted, it was one of the topics she had been given to study recently, “Any thoughts?”

Surprise touched his face, and Rip replied, “One or two.”

 “You can’t seriously believe that?”

Rip shrugged, “All I’m saying is that it is highly unlikely.”

“All the evidence collected shows that it was what happened,” Miranda argued back, “Do you have anything to suggest otherwise?”

He mused for a second before nodding, “Druce let me borrow a diary from Helas that is part of his collection. The man who wrote it was a servant in the palace at the time.”

Miranda’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward, “You have one of the diaries onboard?”

Rip smiled at how excited she was at the prospect, “It’s in my quarters. I’ve been reading it the past few nights.”

“And you’re saying it disproves the theory?” Miranda demanded, as she started off the bridge.

Confused Rip followed her, “No, it actually claims that a chemical was used to start the whole thing.”

“So, you’re not a believer in the so called ‘Love Dust’?” Miranda laughed as she reached his rooms.

Rip rolled his eyes, “It’s preposterous. A chemical substance that makes you fall in love with another person is ridiculous.”

“Well,” Miranda noted, “To be fair it’s not falling in love, just an uncontrollable need for sex.”

Rip felt heat cover his neck again but thankfully Miranda wasn’t paying any attention to him as she just walked into his quarters and headed straight for his desk.

“Oh wow,” she murmured, gently lifting the diary up and turning a few pages, “This is incredible. Listen to this, ‘The sweet smell of the magical dust they covered the palace in filled the air and soon the floor was nothing but bodies, naked and writhing as they pleasured each other, their only intention to reach satisfaction’.”

Rip swallowed at the sound of her voice caressing each word.

“And what do you think of that?” Miranda asked amused.

“It’s a poetic description of an orgy that likely had more to do with copious quantities of alcohol than magical ‘love dust’,” Rip replied.

Miranda laughed, “Oh come on. Why can’t you believe in something that you are not able to put in a little box?”

“It’s preposterous,” he said again, “

“Well it’s not like we’ll ever know,” Miranda rolled her eyes before a mischievous smile touched her lips, “That time is forbidden so we couldn’t steal some to test it.”

Rip frowned at her, “What a shame,” adding sarcastically, “I really wanted to test your theory.”

“I have a small sample of the substance for you to try,” Gideon spoke up suddenly.

Before they could say anything the hiss of the air conditioning system preceded a sickly-sweet smell. Rip felt his head begin to swim, shaking it and blinking to clear his vision he tried to focus again. Miranda appeared before him, and it was like he was seeing her for the first time. Her dark eyes bright with her brilliant mind, her pale skin was glowing, a slight blush on her cheeks and then he focussed on her soft pink lips.

Rip found himself moving and pressed his lips to hers. Miranda’s arms locked around his neck pulling him close as their kiss deepened. Rip slammed into the wall as they stumbled slightly trying to get closer to each other.

Breaking apart for air, Rip trailed his lips down along her neck while she pushed his jacket off him. He moaned as Miranda’s hands suddenly slid along his stomach and in the back of his mind Rip realised that she’d undone his shirt.

It wasn’t long before their clothes were scattered over the floor and Miranda pulled him over to the bed.

 Rip rolled off Miranda, breathing heavily and lay at her side staring at the ceiling trying to work out what had possessed him to do something so stupid.

And then he remembered…

“Gideon,” he snapped, “What the hell did you drug us with?”

“It was the chemical that is known as ‘love dust’,” Gideon replied.

“Why on earth would you do that?” he demanded, trying not to look at Miranda, “Why would you…”

“You requested the chance to test Lieutenant Coburn’s theory, which I gave you. However, the dose I gave you wore off within twenty seconds,” Gideon told him, “Anything that happened after those twenty seconds came from you.”

At his side Rip heard Miranda begin to laugh.

“Rip,” Miranda said softly, touching his cheek so he would look at her. And she looked gorgeous with tousled hair and pink tinge to her glistening skin, “This wasn’t a bad thing.”

“It’s forbidden,” Rip reminded her.

Miranda shrugged, “What is? We’ve been stuck here for almost two weeks waiting for something that hasn’t happened yet. This was just a little…stress relief. That’s not against the rules.”

“Stress relief?”

A slow smile touched her lips and she lay on her side leaning on her elbow, “I’m feeling very relaxed and I’m sure you were too. Before you started having a panic attack.”

Rip stared at her.

“Well?” she slid closer to him, “Were you relaxed?”

Swallowing he nodded.

Miranda softly touched her lips to his again. When she broke the kiss, Miranda smiled at him before sliding out of the bed, not bothering to cover her naked form.

“I’m going to have shower,” she glanced over her shoulder, “If you’re feeling a little stressed again, you should join me.”

Rip lay frozen for several moments listening to the water start.

Stress relief…

He slid out of the bed and stepped into the shower room; Miranda smiled when she saw him through the steam. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close when he joined her.

“We should destress a little more,” Miranda murmured, before adding, “And I need help washing my hair.”

                                 *********************************************

 Miranda wandered to the galley to get some tea before heading up to the bridge to check if anything had happened. They’d been here almost a full month waiting for an attack which so far hadn’t appeared.

Since their first ‘stress relief’ session they’d spent every night together, and Rip was getting a lot more comfortable around her. It was amazing how different he was now he’d relaxed. Miranda knew Rip was smart, you had to be to even be considered to be a Time Master, but he had always been very quiet. Although she knew he was one of the top students of their class, Rip rarely spoke up amongst the others. Only doing so when he had something specific to say, which was usually disagreeing with her, so she’d never got a chance to watch his mind work until now. He had one of those minds that worked problems at angles, solving them in ways she hadn’t expected. It was incredible, and completely unexpected, how well they worked together.

After they had a ‘stress relief’ session each night, they would talk. Going over theories and ideas that they both had, they seemed to connect in a way Miranda had never thought was possible with anyone, never mind him.

She knew that once their mission was over, she had to ensure they continued to spend time together.

 “Yes, sir,” Rip said as Druce finished speaking, “I’ll tell Lieutenant Coburn.”

“Tell me what?” Miranda asked the moment Druce disappeared from the screen making Rip turn to find her walking onto the bridge.

He stood, “We’re being recalled.”

“Oh,” she grimaced, “Straight away?”

Rip smiled slightly, “No. They’re allowing us to witness the probe landing.”

“Oh,” Miranda grinned, “That means we have six hours.”

“Well actually six hours and nineteen minut…” he stopped as Miranda pressed her finger to his lips.

“That means,” she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, “We can ‘destress’ a few more times before we head back to base.”

Rip sighed, “This isn’t a good idea, Miranda. We both know what we’re doing, no matter how we label it, is against the rules.”

“Rip,” she breathed, “You have broken a lot of rules and gotten away with it.”

He winced, “But anytime I have done so was in the service of a mission. This is different.”

Miranda shook her head, “I don’t want to stop spending time with you. Even before Gideon dosed us, I was attracted to you, but I had no idea how you felt about me. We’re allowed to care for each other Rip, no matter what they say.”

“But…”

“Do you enjoy being with me?” Miranda asked firmly.

Rip stared at her for a few moments before whispering, “Yes.”

“We’re not hurting anyone,” she reminded him, “And considering how much time we will spend on missions mostly on our own then,” Miranda brushed her lips to his, “A little ‘stress relief’ can’t be frowned upon.”

He continued to stare at her, his mind going over and over everything.

“Unless this doesn’t mean the same to you as it does to me,” Miranda sighed.

She moved away and Rip caught her hand making her turn back.

“I don’t…I’ve never…” he took a quick breath, “I’ve never felt like this for anyone, Miranda.”

Stepping closer to him again, Miranda took his face in her hands and whispered, “Neither have I.”

Rip rested his forehead against hers, “I don’t know how to do this.”

Miranda kissed him, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him close. When they parted, she murmured, “I don’t either, but we can learn together.”

Still holding onto her, Rip nodded, “Okay.”

“Now,” Miranda smiled, “We have just over six hours before we have to return to the Vanishing Point. Let’s ‘destress’ a few times before we go home.”

As she pulled him, Rip moved with her knowing he was in deep and realising he didn’t care.

                                 *********************************************

 “Lieutenant Hunter is not currently onboard,” Gideon spoke up as Druce stepped onto the Waverider.

“I know, Gideon,” he replied as he started through the corridors, “He’s currently being debriefed. I’m just here to retrieve the book he borrowed from me.”

“Of course,” she stated, “It is sitting on the desk inside his quarters.”

Druce nodded, “Thank you, Gideon.” Reaching the room he easily found the diary and lifted it, “Lieutenant Hunter will be busy for several hours, and a team will be fitting some new fabricators. Your scheduled self-diagnostic has been moved up to today.”

“I am not due for a self-diagnosis until next month,” Gideon noted.

Druce smiled, “I am aware of this, but this was the first long term mission you and the Waverider has been on since Rip repaired your systems. Soon you will be away from the Vanishing Point for extended periods of time and it’s best to ensure now that no problems will occur.”

“Your reasoning is sound, Time Master Druce,” Gideon told him, “I will alert Lieutenant Hunter that I have done this.”

Druce waited until he was sure Gideon was in diagnostic mode before he found the camera he’d set up in Rip’s room.

Rip and Miranda had a part to play in the future, but both had been annoyingly restrained despite the obvious attraction. He hoped this mission, with the planted chemical aphrodisiac, would push them where he needed them to go. In some ways they were both very predictable in what they would argue about and Druce just needed to ensure the material had been there.

Quickly checking through the film captured and smiled to himself as he watched the two of them getting intimate.

His plan was on track.

[palendromicdragonrider]

Turn Back the Hands - Part 1

Claude sat on his bed, carefully going over each elegant letter of the four-word note in his hands. The note that had been slid under his door in the middle of the night. That he had nearly passed over as another discarded page of his own hand. That he only took notice of due to the sharp edges with which it had been carefully folded, more carefully than Claude himself would have ever attempted.

I’ll fucking kill you.

It’s just a prank, Claude wanted to tell himself. Something to rile him up, probably from one of the students in the Black Eagle house. They were certainly more uptight than usual, ever since the Golden Deer won the mock battle last month. Especially Edelgard, who was so certain that the Black Eagles were going to be unbeatable. Claude nearly smirked to himself, thinking of the look on her face when Jeralt announced the Golden Deer as the winners. Her eyes had appeared ready to burst into flames.

Of course, it had little to do with the Golden Deer’s own might. Had Byleth not chosen to lead them, there was no way they would have won the mock battle. They would have put up a fight, sure, but their victory could only be credited to their teacher who guided the battle. Claude shoved the note in his pocket and sighed. He still had no idea why Byleth had chosen to lead their house. The Black Eagles were far more noble, and even the Blue Lions had an unwavering sense of duty and morality that Claude had to admire. The Golden Deer were a mess in comparison to the other two houses. Claude could hardly keep the group in line before Byleth showed up. Especially when Lorenz was present. The thought of him made Claude frown. He could not understand what that guy’s problem was. Sure, Claude was a surprise heir that undermined Lorenz’s position, but that wasn’t Claude’s fault. It didn’t help matters that Lorenz was also a total douchebag.

The bell tolled the hour of the morning, pulling Claude out of his musings. “Shit,” he said to himself. He was late. Claude leapt from his bed and opened his door. Halfway down the hall, he had to turn around and go back. He nearly forgot his bow. “Shit shit shit!” he muttered the whole way out of the dorms.

The morning was bright and the air was crisp with the remnants of spring. Students and monastery staff alike stared at Claude as he rushed past. “You’re la-ate,” a girl said in a sing-songy voice to him. Claude beamed at the girl in a way that he hoped was interpreted as playful. 

“Gotta keep ‘em on edge!” he replied with a wink. The girl and her friend giggled at him, but his back was already facing them. Claude wondered absently how the girl recognized him. Maybe she was also in the Golden Deer house. There were easily a hundred students attending the monastery, but Claude often only interacted with the ones in his group for monthly missions: Hilda, Lorenz, Ignatz, Raphael, Lysithea, Leonie, and Marianne. None of whom he knew particularly well. Growing up in another nation put him at a disadvantage in the friends department. Claude sighed, thinking not for the first time that he would have preferred an easier first mission together. The Blue Lions were on weapon inventory, and the Black Eagles were helping a neighboring town with a mild land dispute. It wasn’t that Claude wanted to shirk the work—despite what other people thought of him, Claude considered himself a hard worker when given the right motivation—but he really wanted the time to get to know his classmates. He was never going to succeed as a ruler if he could not even govern seven other students. He shook the thought. He had to hurry. For once, his tardiness actually mattered, but thankfully the monastery was not too big. He ran faster.

“What a surprise,” Lorenz called as he caught sight of Claude. “Leave it to our illustrious future leader to be late on the eve of battle. I nearly expected you to hide in your room while we fought for you.”

“And good morning to you too, Lorenz,” Claude said, his grin more forced than it was before. He stopped in front of the massive wooden gates that led outside of the school’s grounds, panting slightly. Most of his classmates averted their eyes. Save for Lysithea, none of them liked to get involved in the conflict between Lorenz and Claude. Hell, even Claude did not like to get involved in the conflict between Lorenz and Claude. He thought about the note crumpled in his pocket. Maybe it was from Lorenz. . .

“Oh, leave him alone,” Lysithea said, her tone sounding almost bored. “The bell rang no more than five minutes ago. Hilda is not here yet either, not that anyone should be surprised by that.”

“I tried to wake her up this morning,” Marianne squeaked. “But she was sleeping so soundly—“

“It doesn’t matter whether she shows up on time—or even shows up at all!” Lorenz interrupted. “She is not heir to the throne—“

“Technically, Claude is not heir to a throne, either. I think you’ve been hanging out with Ferdinand too often,” Leonie corrected him. Claude tried not to smile. Lorenz hated being corrected, especially by a commoner. The idea that anyone not of noble blood could know anything besides their own name was a shock to Lorenz. The thought sobered Claude’s mood again. Lorenz’s behavior was only another reminder of why he was not fit to rule.

“You know what I mean!” Lorenz huffed. He opened his mouth as if to continue, then clamped it shut again as something caught his eye. The rest of the students looked in the same direction. Byleth approached the group, as stoic and unreadable as ever. Despite only being a few years older than them, Byleth held an authority and wisdom that was unmatched by most adults two or three times her age. Even Lorenz appeared bashful in her presence. 

“Good morning, class,” she said in a low, even voice.

“Good morning, professor,” the students replied.

“Morning, Teach!” Claude beamed. Lorenz rolled his eyes.

“Where is Hilda?” Byleth asked, not missing a beat.

“Sleeping, probably,” Leonie answered flatly, her arms crossed over her chest. Byleth frowned.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I could have sworn I saw her at breakfast—“

“You did!” A voice beamed from the other side of the gate. Hilda approached the circle. “I had a feeling that you guys would expect me to sleep in. Which honestly, is so unfair. I may not be the most excited soldier ever, but I know how to prioritize. Anyway, so I woke up this morning—“

“Why don’t you tell us on the road?” Byleth asked. “The bandits are not going to subdue themselves, and we have a good day’s journey ahead of us.”

“Of course, professor,” Hilda said with a hop, straightening her back.

“Everyone, get to your horses. I intend to be out that gate in ten minutes. We will review the details of our mission when we take our evening stop.”

The students all hastened to their horses, fastening saddle bags and checking their weapons. Claude lazily approached his own mare. He packed light, so there was little to check. Once his bags and bow were secured to his content, Claude mounted the mare and pat her shaggy neck. A nagging sensation told him he was being watched. Claude looked up, meeting eyes with Byleth. She was already on her mount, dressed in armor rather than her usual teaching uniform. Claude realized he had not seen her dressed as she was since the night he met her. The night she saved his life. The thought of seeing her in a true battle again excited him. Never in his life had he encountered such an expert with a sword. Claude knew he had much to learn from her, on and off the battlefield. Dare he admit it, but he admired her. He only wished he knew what it was that she saw in him as a student.

Byleth prodded her horse gently so it would walk up alongside Claude’s mare. “How are you today?” she asked him.

“As fine as every day, Teach,” Claude replied, putting on the same smile that he had used on the two girls on his way to the gates. Byleth’s expression did not change.

“Are you ready for this mission?” she asked. 

“Of course I am! I’m actually rather excited. I hardly got a taste of battle the last time I was out in the field.” And you barely let me fight at all during the mock battle, he thought, but did not say.

“Experience can only take you so far, if your mind is on other things,” Byleth replied. Claude frowned, feeling as if the note in his pocket would burn a hole in the fabric. He hated feeling like an open book.

“Teach, I’m offended!” he said, trying to keep his tone playful. “My mind is only on keeping my classmates safe, and making a good impression on you.” 

Something about that almost made Byleth smile. Almost. If Claude had not seen her eyes crinkle for an instant, he would have missed it altogether. “You don’t need to worry about impressing me,” Byleth said. She turned the horse away before Claude could reply. “If everyone is ready, let’s move out!”

They stopped to make camp at the base of Zanado just before the sun set. Each of the students set up tents in a circle, boys on one side and girls on the other, with hired battalions and the knights of Seiros surrounding them for protection. Mission or no mission, they were still students. Still kids. It would not go well if Byleth returned to the monastery without everyone intact. 

Lorenz complained about having to pitch his own tent. Claude did his best to ignore him. The other two boys in their class were commoners, sons of merchant families, so they were far more used to this kind of travel. Leonie herself had her tent up before everyone else. Claude vaguely remembered her saying that she used to hunt with her father. Despite her low birth, Claude realized she was probably the most-qualified student for the upcoming battle. She was probably the only one who had experience making a kill.

Well, her and Claude. He had to remind himself of that. Claude did not see the man he had killed that first night with Byleth, the bandit who was after him and the other two house leaders, Edelgard and Dimitri. All he remembered was the shadow approaching from the trees, letting an arrow fly, a grunt. . . And the shadow was gone. Claude didn’t even bother retrieving the arrow. He did not want to look death in the face when he had caused it.

“But you got your tent up so quickly, what is the harm in aiding a fellow classmate?” Lorenz demanded from Ignatz. He towered over the merchant’s son, gesturing between Ignatz’s perfectly pitched tent and his own mess of tarp and poles. Ignatz looked up at him with wide eyes, fumbling between words as Lorenz inched closer to his face. Raphael, who out-matched Lorenz’s tall wiry frame with his thick and solid one, stood between the two. 

“We all have to do our own work,” he said. Claude found himself surprised—not for the first time—at how mild the giant’s voice was when he spoke. “It’s how we learn to gain some independence as well as cooperate with others. How can you work well with people if you do not appreciate the work that they do?”

“That’s a foolish notion! I appreciate the work of several people in my life without doing the same work they do. I appreciate the servants that made my bed every day back home, the tailor who provided me with such fine-fitting clothes—“

“Lorenz,” Byleth called from the other side of the camp. “You will set up your own tent tonight. If that is too much work for you, I will be more than happy to assign you to the stables or to weeding duty all next week to teach you what work really is.” Lysithea and Hilda both snickered beside her. Even Leonie seemed to suppress a smile.

Lorenz frowned, but he did not argue with her. He stepped away from Raphael and Ignatz, who sighed audibly and adjusted his glasses. Claude resumed setting up his own tent. No sense rubbing it in Lorenz’s face. That could be the difference between Claude receiving aide or a knife in his back the next day. Life was dangerous enough without stirring up unnecessary trouble.

When Claude had his tent set up, he took a step back to admire his work. The poles were a little crooked, sure, but it was sturdy enough. It would keep him warm and dry for the night. That was what mattered. He scanned the rest of the campsite to see how his classmates fared. Lorenz, at last, had his tent up. It looked similar to Claude’s, if not a little more unstable. Raphael and Ignatz chatted lightly on the other side of him, their work done several minutes prior. Leonie tested her bow strings by the trees next to her perfectly-pitched tent. Lysithea was nowhere to be found, but a dim light could be seen from the inside her modest shelter. Claude assumed she had her nose stuck in a book. Beside her tent was Hilda’s. . .if it could be called a tent. One gust of wind would surely bring the teetering structure down. Byleth’s tent stood as tall and proud as she was. At the end of the circle, where the boy’s half touched the girl’s half again, Marianne was pacing in and out of her low, long tent. 

Claude sighed. That girl is a wreck, he thought. Still, he had to get to know these people better. Marianne was shy and a little skittish, but not unfriendly. She might be an easy starting point. “Hey, Marianne?” Claude called. Marianne jumped. Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for who had said her name. 

“Oh! My Lord Claude,” she said with a bow as he approached.

“Just ‘Claude’ is fine, Marianne,” Claude said. “Do you need a hand? You look like you’re in a—erm—in a predicament.”

“I can’t find my sword,” Marianne said, her voice barely above a whisper.  

“I thought you were a magic user? Why on Fódlan would you need a sword?” He did not mean to laugh, but he did. Just a little.

“Magic is finite,” Marianne explained. “And if I run out before the fight is over—“ she wrung her hands. Her eyes met Claude’s, two intense pools of blue. “I don’t want to—“

“Okay, class. Gather around,” Byleth called. Marianne jumped. She bowed to Claude again and approached their professor. Claude’s brow furrowed. Marianne seemed. . . Flightier than normal. If such a thing was possible. It would have to be dealt with later. If Byleth called, he would have to follow, as well. Perhaps Marianne did not want Byleth to think she was ignoring her. Claude joined the gathering in the center of camp. “You all should know the general details of our mission by now,” Byleth began again, now that all eight students were within ear shot. “A group of bandits have been attacking the surrounding villages. We discovered that their base is up in Zanado—commonly referred to as the Red Canyon—above us. Our mission is to disband them at all costs.” She paused to look each of her students in the eye. “This is different from a mock battle. There will be no wooden swords, no holding back the swing of your blade, no hitting the space just next to your opponent with a fire blast. I know most of you have not killed before, and I won’t demean you by pretending it won’t change you. But let me remind you that these men are killers, and letting them live would be the same as failing to protect the people of the valley. One life taken tomorrow may save a dozen more in the future. Lives that matter more than those of murderers.” 

Byleth’s words made the students squirm, most of them clutching their arms or shifting back and forth on their feet. Claude wondered if, until this moment, many of them had forgotten that Byleth was a mercenary before becoming their teacher. The only reason she remained at the monastery was because the archbishop Rhea had asked it of her. Denying the request of the church’s head was as if to deny the church itself. And that request had only been made the month before. A few weeks of teaching would not wash away the years of ferocity that came from killing for a living. It was that same ferocity that drew Claude to Byleth in the first place. He doubted they would succeed on tomorrow’s mission if Byleth had chosen to pamper them.

“I won’t blame you for being hesitant about tomorrow’s mission, but that does not mean you can hang back during the fight. The knights will be spread too thin and far to do the fighting for you. Let me assure you, though, it is not my intention to throw caution to the wind. I want you all to gain experience, but your lives are more important to me than anything. That is why I assigned battalions to a handful of you, with the intention of grouping the remaining students with those who have guards with them. The strategy for tomorrow is—“

Claude tuned out Byleth’s words. He knew the plan front and back already, having been the one to help her hammer out the details of the mission with Rhea and the knights the days before. He was much more interested now in the reactions from his classmates. Some pairs would work better together than others. As Byleth listed off each pair, Claude took note of the reactions around the circle to see if he needed to recommend any last-minute changes to Byleth for the next day. 

Claude himself was to be paired with Raphael. He had been gifted with his own personal mini-army the moment he enrolled in the officer’s academy. His grandfather saw to that personally. Since they had no other current uses, they acted as Claude’s battalion during missions. Raphael hardly needed the protection, as he preferred close-hand combat. Still, he had the least experience out of all of them, and despite his eagerness to be a knight one day, he was a complete softie. Claude figured he would need some proper motivation on the battlefield. Motivation that he could undoubtedly give. Hilda and Ignatz would be under Hilda’s guard, which Claude thought was a grand idea. For all her laziness, Hilda was a tank with an axe in her hands. Ignatz would make a great support from a distance, without having to worry about being in the way of her blade. Lysithea and Lorenz would be paired together, and while they were hardly on friendly terms with each other, they oddly made a good pair. Lorenz would never let a woman be harmed in his presence, as he saw it as part of his “noble duty” to help women at every opportunity. Conversely, as Lysithea could use her magic at a distance, she did not have to put up with his bullshit at close range. And on the off chance she would need to, she could handle him better than the other girls in her class. Lastly, Byleth listed off Leonie and Marianne. Both girls stiffened. Huh, Claude thought. That was the last reaction he expected. As far as he knew, Leonie and Marianne got along rather well. They were both driven to do well, though their motivations could not be more different. Claude had seen them talking with each other in the hall just a few days prior! He wondered if something had happened between them.

“If anyone has any questions, bring them to me. We leave at sunrise tomorrow,” Byleth finished. She returned to her tent, and one by one the students dismembered. Leonie looked pointedly at Marianne before stalking off. Marianne practically fled back to her tent in response. 

“Hey, hey,” Claude called to her as he tried to catch up. 

“I need to find my sword. . .”

“We can deal with that later. What’s going on between you and Leonie?”

Marianne sighed, looking everywhere she could except for directly at Claude. Her hands were wringing together over and over. “We. . .” Marianne whispered. “We got in a little fight the other day.”

“What happened?” Claude asked her. Marianne sighed again. It could have been the setting sun, but it appeared that her eyes were welling up with tears.

“We. . . It was all my fault.” Marianne still would not look Claude in the eye. “I was at the stables looking at the horses. Leonie approached me asking if I would help her with something. I declined—but not because I did not want to be helpful! I just—you know—I mess things up sometimes, and I did not want to create more work for her. . .” Marianne’s voice was barely above a whisper now. “But she thought I was blowing her off. I tried to apologize—“ She covered her face with her hands. 

“Leonie is a bit of a hot head,” Claude told her, hoping he was speaking low enough to not be heard by anyone else in the camp. He patted Marianne’s shoulder. “Give her a couple of days and I’m sure it will blow over.”

“But that’s the point, isn’t it?” Marianne gasped. “I don’t have a couple of days!” Tears fell down her face. “What if she gets injured—or worse—because I screw something up? I could never be forgiven then.”

“I doubt that will happen,” Claude assured her.

“But you don’t know for sure, do you?” Claude tried to find the right words to comfort her, but they did not come. “I appreciate you looking out for me,” Marianne said. “Truly, I do. But. . . I am not an experienced fighter like you. Or Byleth. Or Le—others in our class. I just don’t want anyone to die tomorrow. I don’t want to, either. Not like this, at least. . . I am afraid, Claude.”

“Don’t be afraid. We will be more than well-guarded by our battalions, and Byleth will keep us out of danger if things get too out of hand.”

“There are never any guarantees, though. That is just fact.” Marianne wiped her eyes and bowed. “If you will excuse me, I need to look for my sword.”

Claude watched her leave, his mouth pressed firmly in a frown. As much as he wanted to be an optimist, she was right. There were no guarantees who would come out on top in the middle of a fight. The odds could be on your side’s favor, but if an arrow had your name on it, you were going to get caught by it. That was something his mother had taught him, years ago. Claude stalked towards Byleth’s tent.

“Hey, Teach!” he beamed. “May I come in?”

Byleth was sitting cross-legged on her sleeping mat, reading what looked like a leather-bound ledger. She closed it with her finger stuck between the pages where she had been reading. “How can I help you, Claude?” she asked. Claude thought he detected concern in her voice.

“I was thinking about the pairs we have set up for tomorrow,” Claude began, leaning lightly against the tent pole. He hoped his tone was casual enough. He did not want Marianne to be put on the spot because of him. “Don’t you think Raphael and Leonie would be a better pair? I know Leonie has some experience with a lance, but truthfully she is so much better with a bow. Besides, who better to motivate Raphael than the class perfectionist?”

“Marianne is also a long-distance unit, though. Like you.”

“She has a sword, doesn’t she?”

“Have you ever actually seen her use it? Or pick it up, for that matter?”

“And here I thought this mission was about giving us some battle experience!”

“Not at the risk of her life, Claude,” Byleth asserted. Her eyes narrowed on him. “Is there something wrong with Raphael? Is there a reason that you don’t want to be paired with him anymore?”

“No, no! Of course not!”

“Then why are you trying to be paired with Marianne?”

“I’m not trying to be paired with Marianne. I just told you, I think Leonie and Raphael—“

“Claude—“

“Not that there is anything wrong with Marianne at all, either—“

“Claude—“

“Okay, okay. You caught me. I have a crush on her. I was hoping if I could prove how dashing I am in action—“

“Claude!”

“What?” 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Claude replied, lacing his fingers behind his head and giving Byleth his most convincing smile. Byleth sighed. She removed her finger from between the pages of her book and leaned forward.

“You are quite mischievous, but you are shit at deception. You act the most relaxed when you are the most bothered. It’s part of why I chose to lead your house. I don’t like not knowing what is going on around me, a sentiment I’m sure you share.”

Claude gulped. He had always considered himself an expert liar. It kept him out of a lot of trouble growing up. But of course Byleth would be able to see through it. She had yet to fail to impress him. He sighed, resting his hands on his lap.

“Are you going to tell me what’s really going on now?”

“Not all of it,” Claude admitted. “Just that I think it is important for me to be by Marianne’s side tomorrow. The rest of it is her business.”

Byleth nodded, seeming to accept his answer. “Consider it done. I will tell Leonie and Raphael of the changes if you want to tell Marianne.”

“Thank you, Teach!” Claude beamed, leaping forward. “I will go tell her now.”

“One more thing,” Byleth called, stopping him at the doorway. “I may not know all of the details, but I can tell that you are acting out of your position as a leader. Looking after your people is more important than having power and giving orders ever will be. I’m proud of you.”

Claude smiled, though he felt embarrassed for how happy her words made him. “Even a scoundrel gets it right sometimes,” he said. He ducked out of the tent and rushed back to where he last saw Marianne heading. The only taint in his victory was the death threat still crumbled in his pocket.

“Get back!” Claude called, pulling Marianne out of the way of an arrow. “It came from the left.” Marianne straightened, facing the cliffs where Claude had indicated. She uttered an incantation, and with a wave of her hand, a bolt of light crashed down on the entire area. There is no way anyone could have survived that, Claude thought. “Let’s go,” he said, taking her hand.

They had been separated from the rest of the group, including their battalions. The canyon trail leading to the thieves’ hideout split into two, so Byleth split the group in half to go around each side and corner the enemy. But the thieves were fast, faster than Claude anticipated. In minutes, they had corralled Claude and Marianne away from everyone else. If it hadn’t been for Marianne’s healing abilities, Claude was sure he would not be able to walk anymore. 

“It’s too quiet. . .” Marianna whispered, eyes flicking from crevice to crevice in the cliffside. 

Claude squeezed Marianne’s hand. “It will be okay,” he said. “I can hear shouting around this curve in the road. Our friends are just up ahead, I’m sure of it.”

Marianne nodded, clutching her free hand to her chest.

A few steps further brought the pair to an opening in the path. As Claude suspected, his classmates were on the other side of the clearing, taking out the remaining bandits at the base of their hideout. “See?” he said to Marianne, letting go of her hand to point ahead. “We have nearly caught up to them. Let’s go!” Claude quickened his pace, eager to be in the safety provided by large numbers. Marianne was right on his heels. Claude could see Byleth at the back of the group, watching over her students and barking orders to their guards. “Byleth!” Claude called. Byleth turned around. It may have been the distance, but Claude could have sworn relief washed over her face. 

“Hurry!” she called. Claude smiled, running faster. 

“Claude—“ Marianne panted. She was further behind him now. “I can’t keep—“

“Rawwwrrrgh!” A voice boomed. Claude was barely turning on his heels when he heard it. The sound of metal penetrating flesh rang in his ears. He met Marianne’s eyes just as they went blank. She crumbled to the ground, a large man standing between her and Claude, and his sword dripping wet with Marianne’s blood.

“No!!” Claude cried, letting an arrow fly. He caught the man between the eyes, and his body fell. Claude rushed to Marianne’s side. “No, no, no,” he whispered, cupping her head. She did not respond. Her body was limp, lifeless. “You can’t die on me.”

Claude had failed her. He told Marianne that she would not have to worry if she was with him. He was so convinced that as her house leader, he could protect her. But he was wrong. Claude’s tears spilled onto her pale face. She was dead. And it was all Claude’s fault. He failed as a leader.

He failed as a protector.

How could anyone trust him now?

How could anyone follow him now?

Marianne.

Marianne. . .

Mari—

A

N

N

E

E

N

N

A

—iraM. 

?won mih wollof enoyna dluoc woH

?won mihtsurtenoynadluocwoH.rotcetorpasadeliafeH.redaelasadeliafeH.tluafs’edualc—

Claude squeezed  Marianne’s hand. “It will be okay,” he said. “I can hear shouting around this curve in the road. Our friends are just up ahead, I’m sure of it.”

Marianne nodded, clutching her free hand to her chest.

A few steps further brought the pair to an opening in the path. As Claude suspected, his classmates were on the other side of the clearing, taking out the remaining bandits at the base of their hideout “See?” he said to Marianne, letting go of her hand to point ahead. “We have nearly caught up to them. Let’s go!” Claude quickened his pace, eager to be in the safety provided by large numbers. Marianne was right on his heels. Byleth was at the back, watching over her students and barking orders to their guards. “Byleth!” Claude called. Byleth turned around. It may have been the distance, but Claude could have sworn her face was one of rage and ferocity.

“Stay there!” she shouted, charging forward with her blade drawn. Claude halted, and Marianne ran into his back.

“Oof!” she grunted. Claude hardly noticed. Why would Teach want them to—

“Rawwwrrrgh!” A voice boomed. Claude instinctually raised his bow, letting an arrow fly. . .

Right between the eyes of a bandit. The large man fell to his knees, dropping his sword just inches from Claude’s chest. 

Claude stared blankly at the man. Had he taken one more step. . . Or worse, had he ran ahead, leaving Marianne a few steps behind him— His knees buckled, and Marianne had to catch him to keep him from falling.

“Are you two okay?” Byleth asked. Claude felt Marianne nod against his back, and he numbly mimicked the motion. Byleth watched him scrutinizingly. “There should be no more surprises,” she said. “We have the rest of the bandits apprehended. It looks like keeping everyone in pairs was a good move, because there are no casualties on our side.”

“No casualties. . .” Claude repeated. Why did that not seem right to him? He felt Marianne still pressed up against his back, shaking slightly. Or was it his own body shaking?

“Yes, no casualties,” Byleth said. She extended her hand to Claude. “Can you stand? I would rather have everyone in a group in case there are any other enemies in hiding.”

Claude looked up at her. Byleth’s eyes were unreadable. Blank, motionless pools. They made the perfect mirror. Inside them, Claude saw his own fear and confusion. He was alive. Marianne was alive.

Marianne was alive?

Pull yourself together.

Claude straightened up, smiling weakly. “You got it, Teach. I wouldn’t want to miss the cheers of victory, now would I? Come on, Marianne, let’s join the others.” He looped Marianne’s arm through his and led her to the rest of their classmates. Byleth followed silently.

That was a close one, Claude thought. He refused to give Byleth a reason to doubt choosing him. To doubt choosing the Golden Deer. He would not let her down.

But. . .

Why did he feel like he already had?

The group of classmates were all chattering excitedly when Claude and Marianne approached. Claude heard bits and pieces: most of them had made their first kills today. Some were excited. Others. . . Tried to be. But Claude could tell many of them would see blank faces in their dreams that night. Leonie was the first to notice their presence. Her eyes widened at the sight of them.

“Marianne!” she called, rushing forward to meet them just before they entered the circle of students. “Your arm is bleeding! I think I have a vulnerary in my bag.”

“I’m fine,” Marianne whispered. Leonie’s brow furrowed. She tugged on Marianne’s good arm.

“Of course you are not fine! Look at you, you’re shaking! I cannot let a friend of mine remain in this condition.”

“Friend?” Marianne asked. Leonie stopped tugging on her.

“Of course.”

“I just—I thought that—after the other day—“ Marianne’s eyes welled up with tears.

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Leonie said. “I was being hasty and stupid when I said—Come on, let’s get this wound looked at. We can talk once you’re healed. . .” Leonie wrapped her arm around Marianne, who nodded and allowed Leonie to lead her away. Claude smiled as he watched them leave. Who knew a dangerous battle could cause them to make up?

“I am assuming they got in a fight before the mission. Was that why you wanted to switch partners?” Byleth asked. Claude nearly jumped. He did not realize she was standing just on the other side of him.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I did not want them to have their minds in two different places on the battlefield. A split mind is dangerous.”

“Yes. It is,” Byleth replied, a hint of accusation in her tone. 

“You saved her life, by the way. Had you not called out for me to wait, I—“

“What’s done is done,” Byleth said, cutting him off. “The bandit is dead and neither of you got hurt.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Claude sighed. “But still, your leadership was amazing, Teach. We can probably leave the rest of the work here to the knights and head back to the monastery.”

“I agree. Go celebrate with your peers. I am going to speak with the knights to make sure they do not need any more help from us before we leave. We can hopefully make it back to the monastery by nightfall.”

Claude nodded. “You got it, Teach.” He winked at her then caught up to his classmates.

“Claude!” Raphael boomed, picking Claude up and squeezing him. “I feel so pumped right now! Like I could lift a mountain! I can’t believe our first mission was so successful!”

“Of course it was successful,” Claude laughed, nearly out of breath. Raphael put him down and clapped him on the back. “With someone like Teach leading us, how could we go wrong?”

“At least you admit that you were not the cause for our success,” Lorenz muttered. His hair was messed up, and he was frantically trying to pat it down smooth again.

“I take credit where credit is due. No more, no less,” Claude replied. He was suddenly thinking of the death threat in his pocket again.

“I thought you did magnificent, Claude!” Hilda beamed. She swung her axe over her shoulder. It was a wonder she had not accidentally cut off one of her two long ponytails by now. “Ignatz and I saw you take down a guy at least three hundred yards away with only one shot!”

“I admit, I was a little jealous,” Ignatz added. He was sitting on a rock, hands clasped together. No doubt to keep them from shaking.

“I would not be here if it wasn’t for Claude,” a faint voice said behind him. Leonie and Marianne were returning to the circle. “He had my back the entire battle, even though I was no use to him. . . That final bandit surely would have killed us if Claude had not been so quick with the bow.”

Claude forced a swallow. His classmates were all looking at him with awe and admiration. Even Lorenz had the grace to look impressed. But. . . Claude did not feel like he deserved it. Even though he was looking her in the eye, alive and well, he had the feeling like he had somehow failed Marianne.

“Yeah, but I would have been dead several times over if I did not have you healing my wounds when we got separated from the rest of class,” Claude said with a grin. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“See? You were not useless at all, Marianne,” Leonie piped up.

Claude smiled. His classmates continued chattering excitedly, patting each other on the back and praising each other’s victories. Claude sat back and watched. He wanted to bond with them, but not when he felt this way. There would be other days to celebrate victory. He sighed, looking around at the surrounding soldiers who were securing the area. They were seasoned warriors, used to far more than the Golden Deer could fathom at the moment. They were not celebrating. Everything was business as usual.

Claude squinted, wondering where Byleth had gone. She said she wanted to speak with the knights, but he could not spot her among them. And the woman certainly stood out, even in the midst of men twice her size. Frowning, Claude scanned the canyon for her. He spotted her standing alone, by the edge of a cliff. She seemed to be looking at something, though Claude could not tell what. Curious, he approached her.

“I remember this being a peaceful place. . .” Byleth murmured, so soft that Claude did not think she meant to say it aloud. Claude stopped right behind her. She did not acknowledge him. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere, as her eyes were glazed over.

“Teach?” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder. Byleth jumped, causing him to recoil. Byleth was usually not the skittish type. Far from it. “What are you doing over here? I thought you were going to get the clear to leave from the knights?”

“I was—I did. They do not need anything else from us today.”

Claude waited to see if she would offer more, but she did not. “We should get back to the academy, then,” Claude said. “So we don’t get caught in the middle of nowhere when it’s dark.”

“Of course,” Byleth replied, her eyes sharper than a sword once again. “I will tell the other students.” Byleth pushed past him and stalked away. Claude frowned. Something was clearly bothering her about this place, though he did not know what. As far as he knew, the Red Canyon had been abandoned for centuries. Well, abandoned save for the bandits. When would she even have had a chance to be there before?

“Claude!” Hilda called. “We’re heading back! Let’s go!”

“Coming!” Claude called, running to catch up to her. He wondered what sort of knowledge Byleth had that Claude did not. He had researched every notable square inch of Fódlan before entering the continent to enroll in the Academy, and nothing seemed particularly of note about this place save for some boring lore about the goddess living here. Come to think of it, why was Zanado not occupied by the church? Should it not have been sanctioned as holy ground? 

Claude caught sight of Marianne as he got closer to the group, and guilt overcame him once again. He could not explain it, but he could have sworn his arrow was too late, that he saw her dead in his arms. But there she was, practically unscathed, being praised for her bravery by her classmates. Perhaps it was something about the Red Canyon that affected him this way. Maybe Byleth could feel it too? At the very least, she knew something that Claude did not. And Claude wanted answers. Byleth might not swoon at his charms the way that other girls did, but that was not his only method for getting information. It was always possible that she would be more open to talking once they left the Red Canyon, as well. . .

[villainever]

Killing Eve + making worlds and workplaces for women

killing eve very frequently – and obviously quite rightly – gets discussed as a feminist screen text, but i feel like we often talk about the individual characters, how fantastic they clearly are, and how flawed/developed/multifacted/interesting they’ve grown to be. but another thing killing eve does phenomenally well is subvert power structures and institutions, and populate them with women in a way we rarely see. for example, in season 1, eve’s MI5 office is unusually gender-balanced for television (it’s her, elena, bill and frank), and when carolyn is introduced, she’s immediately painted as almost an urban legend – elena raves about how incredible she is and how much she’d love to work with her, and we’re positioned to view her with intrigue and awe. this “mysterious, unreadable, probably damaged but definitely utterly competent and slightly amoral” character would typically go to a man – probably a slightly misogynistic one who’d gradually form a “grudging respect” for the women on his new team, as the women act as a device to coax him into the New Modern World and soothe his trauma. but carolyn gives this archetype an internal makeover and new vitality, and neatly sidesteps stereotyping: she’s not a “bitchy boss”; she never yells, or insults; she’s at times eerily calm, and methodically works her way through problems. this is especially poignant when we think of male characters who rail against female leaders for being “too emotional”, and proceed to spend half the movie throwing tamper-tantrums. at the same time, though, she doesn’t feel emotionless to prove a point, or simply to be the stoic; we get a very real sense of her pragmatism and cold war-conditioning, and the interlocking mechanisms of her many layers. carolyn’s character (both her writing and shaw’s acting) are totally genius, but the main point im trying to raise here is that the parts of Mentor and Career Aspiration are inhabited by a woman, and 60yo woman going full-speed at that – not someone who’s barely 39 but treated as basically a retiree.

next, we’ve got carolyn’s boss, played by zoe wanamaker in 2x04. yes, she’s not in the show for long – although she may make a reappearance? not sure – but her value is more symbolic than anything. in her scene, we get the impression of her power (she gets to make carolyn wait :o), and while she’s also a severe older woman, she’s very much distinct from carolyn in personality, which is pretty unique; often, writers will prescribe bulk-identities to all their minor characters who fall into certain groups, out of a mix of laziness and ignorance. anyway, wanamaker’s helen is shown eating (another rant-worthy point is how the frequency and ease with which killing eve’s women are portrayed as actually eating food is tragically radical), and she lashes out at carolyn before soothing herself easily once again – she’s capricious and less reserved and measured than carolyn, but equally potent. we also get a strong vibe of a long and complex working relationship between these two, effortlessly implied by the writing and performance and even if we never double-back to it, it colours how we view carolyn and the system that i’ll (eventually) get around to making my argument about.

lastly, there’s julie, who plays the medical examiner in 2x01, and conducts the exhumation autopsy on allistair peel. she comes across as professional, capable, no-nonsense, but also warm and gallows-funny, hugging carolyn and sympathetic to eve’s slightly strange reaction to the corpse. like helen, she’s not in the show long, but it’s more her relevance as a symbol i want to discuss.

so what am i getting to by going on about carolyn and these relatively minor characters? well, i want to talk about how killing eve establishes for itself something of an ‘old girls’ club’. an ‘old boys’ club’ is the network of connections that form between (generally upperclass) men who went to the same schools or worked in the same companies, who get each other opportunities in a pay-it-forward kind of way throughout life; it’s one of the many ways that sites of privilege are maintained as sites of privilege. but with these older female characters, who all know and support each other, give each other second chances or off-the-books help, killing eve constructs its own version. through these interactions, we have the sense that carolyn is a part of a group of women across the government who ensure certain things happen at certain times for certain people.

even outside this senior boss ladies network, we have elena, eve and jess,  who support and challenge and contradict each other – all successful women with different skillsets, trajectories, relationships, etc., and none of whom are white. not only does this show pass the bechdel test in under three minutes, but that conversation is between two women of colour. one of the many things i love about killing eve is that while it acknowledges (and even leverages) the disadvantages that marginalised groups face – e.g. villanelle is able to exploit conforming to the western ideals of femininity to lure men into a false sense of security; the ghost is able to pass through places unnoticed, etc. – it never makes that the core of the narrative. it isn’t focused on reinforcing these systemic barriers over and over, which is something a lot of shows do when they’re trying to be progressive, and all they end up doing is reminding us of the setbacks we face and how it’ll be a long, arduous struggle to improve things. instead, killing eve gives a nod to this sexist, racist, homophobic reality, but sidelines it, the way minorities are so often sidelined. rather than make all eve’s bosses and colleagues men “for the realism”, it throws a few male characters in there and then focuses on the women (look how much screentime kenny and hugo get compared to jess, another first-tier secondary character). it reimagines the chain of command as belonging to women, it takes power and allocates it how it sees fit. i adore this, because if someone said to the writers, “umm… i feel like there should be more men in charge… that’s just how it is…”, their response would probably be, “so what?” it wants to spend time with complex women in complex situations, so it just puts them there; there’s no spinning of the wheels to justify how so many women got to these high-ranking jobs in an institution designed to keep them in the lobby. it certainly never pretends women don’t have to cater to men and their sensibilities (take carolyn comforting frank in season 1), but it doesn’t get caught in ‘liberal’-dude-writer “look at these (skinny/pretty/fantasy-fulfillment) women push through the system and affect change from behind the scenes by showing their cleavage to *trick* men into doing what they want ;) girlpower, ladies”. it lets women BE the scene, unapologetically, without feeling pressed to explain or defend or negotiate by stuffing an equal number of male characters in. we get konstantin and aaron peel and various ambassadors or clerks who are men, but these are all characters on the outside looking in. killing eve isn’t arranging women as spaced out and in competition with each other; aside from villanelle, they’re all on the same side (and villanelle’s temporarily teamed up with them anyway), and they work together, while still being allowed internal tensions and clear relationships. i originally just intended to talk about how killing eve built us an old girls’ club, but i had More Thoughts, so that’s why this essay doesn’t stay totally on-thesis from here on, even though it is all about women and their positions in the narrative/workplace. another note – these women, for the most part, aren’t there to be love interests. we obviously have eve/villanelle, but they both have their own fully-developed characters, plus, their love interests are each other, not men. we have carolyn, but her affairs don’t control her storyline; they flit in and out, and are of far more signifiance to the men than to her – she’s an older woman who controls her sexuality, but doesn’t have any interest in letting it overtake her work (and we don’t have that ridiculous “uptight bitch learns to put relationship with basic bro above her lifelong career dream”). we have gemma, but while her narrative function is to give niko a final straw to leave, and to push eve further, she has agency in her arc; SHE is the one who pursues niko, and she does this in a respectable and understandable way. she’s not the “sexy temptress” who “lures” him away, and nor is she an “innocent” that he actively chases. 

also, NONE of the women have their qualifications questioned. there is no “is carolyn experienced enough to have so much free reign?”, no “how did eve get to MI5?”. the way we’re always told to with male characters, the show expects us to accept that they’re fit for their roles. this is highlighted when eve kind of stumbles into being an authority on female assassins. she doesn’t have a phd in psych or anything, but she clearly has an affinity in her area, and she VERY quickly learns to own that. the first time carolyn calls her their resident expert, eve is a bit surprised, but then she’s just like, “huh, guess i am”, and runs with that confidence. these women are all tough, but they don’t have to dig out their own spaces. theyve got them, and the audience isn’t gently directed into wondering whether they actually should. we KNOW they should. unsurprisingly, considering much of killing eve is written/overseen by women, but this isn’t done for Woke Points. there’s no constant self-conscious grandstanding about how many women are in the series. the actors and writers talk about it in press, because theyre EXCITED, theyre THRILLED to finally have this, but that comes from a genuine place of joy to be involved in such a project, rather than a hapless grab for viewers. the female characters aren’t half-baked stocking-stuffers to net the 18-35W. theyre Actual Characters. bottom line is, isn’t it so nice? isn’t it so lovely to be watching something, and have women be in the foreground AND the background? to not have to smurfette effect, the “one of the main characters is a girl, can’t you just shut up now? smh so greedy”? to have minor female characters not as sexy set-dressing or rivals or “ew she’s ugly here’s what we don’t want our protagonist to be hahah amirite lads”? we get to see ourselves over and over, in so many different iterations. killing eve’s women aren’t just “empowered”, they HAVE POWER. they are in positions where they can use that power for good or bad or both, but they have sway and influence and we don’t have to watch a 22yo ingenue assimilate to a 98% male workplace. female characters in killing eve are REAL and PRESENT and we have an entire textured world that isn’t just modern, it’s extra-modern. we have our cake and eat it too: there are women throughout the workplace hierarchy but we still get a critique of how men manipulate the game, and both are managed expertly to ensure we get the social commentary AND get to enjoy the experience of watching women be intelligent and morally grey and sophisticated and manipulative and and AND. in conclusion, i will no longer be accepting applications from media that doesn’t have women in their cast because it “isnt realistic”. killing eve is tearing it up out there, and it’s almost overwhelmingly relieving to get to experience media like this.

*btw, im not trying to imply there are no women actually working at MI5. im sure there are many, but this is more a commentary on media interpretations (james bond, etc.), and the male dominated government landscape in general. 

[foreverwcnter]

chrysanthemum — flowers mini-series / peter parker

| teaser | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |

pairing — peter parker x reader

warnings — blood, angst i guess, loads of fluff

summary — part 5 in which peter learns that a flower can be more memorable and passionate than the words “I love you.”

author’s note —  i hope you all enjoy this! this is the final part to the series and i loved writing this even if people think it’s bad. thank you to those who have read the whole series! feedback is always appreciated. 

══════════════════

Three weeks. You have been missing for three entire weeks. Peter was a complete and utter wreck. Everyone took notice of it. He was barely getting any sleep, not bothering to take care of himself until he could find you. The poor boy was panicked. Concerned. Anxious. The entire situation was uptight and the police were searching anywhere they could just to find you. Peter was getting sick at the idea of you being dead. He couldn’t find you anywhere while searching for you as Spider-man. Ned and May were far more than concerned for you, but they were also worried about Peter.

“Peter, you look sick,” Ned commented as they sat at lunch. Peter had almost a greenish tint to his pale face and he was bouncing his leg nervously as he sat there, obviously thinking about you. “Peter, you’ve got to relax.”

“No, Ned! I can’t relax. I wasn’t careful enough! Someone took her- she’s in danger. She could be hurt or dead and I’m terrified. God, Ned, I know I haven’t known her for long but I care for her so much. She’s literally the light of my life. The sun to my sunflower. I can’t relax knowing that she’s in danger and it’s my fault,” Peter vented, pouring out his feelings as he buried his face into his hands.

“I love her so much, Ned. I can’t lose her.”

Ned let his hand rest on Peter’s shoulder gently, trying to show as much support as he could to his stressed friend. “Peter, you’ll find her. I know you will.” Peter’s phone buzzed from a text but Ned disregarded it. “She’ll be okay.”

Peter let out a shaky sigh, picking up his phone to open to look t the text before his eyes bulged from his head at the attachment. A picture.

A picture of you. 

He was sick. The picture... was horrifying. You were covered in your own blood, beaten bruised and no doubt about it, you were crying and you looked like you were in so much pain. The sight of it made Peter nauseous. He hurried from his chair to the large trash cans in the cafeteria and vomited out everything he just ate. He gagged on the taste, but that wasn’t what bothered him. Ned had hurried to get the nearest teacher, explaining everything and that Peter’s girlfriend had gone missing and he just received a picture of her. Peter was leaning against the trash can desperately, his hands gripping the plastic edges tightly and beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. 

“Peter, let’s get you to the nurse’s office,” the teacher said softly, taking Peter around the shoulder and leading him out of the cafeteria to the nurse. Peter was soon in a daze as Ned explained the situation to the nurse, the teacher and the principal, who all looked at Peter sympathetically. 

Peter could barely listen to the principal as he explained his aunt would be picking him up shortly. He nodded, keeping his face hidden in his hands. He couldn’t get the picture out of his mind. You were hurt. He didn’t know where he could even find you. 

When he arrived home, he practically collapsed in Aunt May’s arms. He was a mess and luckily for him, May knew he was spider-man. He knew she’d understand if he decided to track you down once and for all. 

And that he did.

After around an hour of attempting to track the unknown number, he did it. He found the location and it was an abandoned building that the police had once searched. He assumed they must have moved locations randomly to avoid being caught.

Without any hesitation, Peter was swinging through the city, Karen having the GPS pulled up as he made his way to where you were. Landing outside, a feeling of dread fill his stomach. He gulped, walking in cautiously with a web ready to be shot. He hid behind a pillar, hearing voices before peering around it, finally seeing both you and the ones who took you.

He shot death glares at the men, eyes widening when seeing one sharpen a knife and the other holding a gun. He chewed on his lip, whispering to Karen,” How do I stop them?”

“If you web the gun first and yank it away, you’ll still have time to get rid of the knife, but I advise after that you don’t make any other moods in case y/n gets hurt,” Karne spoke calmly. Peter nodded to himself taking a deep breath before jumping out, shooting a web to the gun and pulling it back before doing the same to the knife.

It was time to talk this out.

“Let her go,” Peter snapped at the two, about to advance forward before one pulled out yet another gun, pressing it against your head. Peter’s body tensed up and stared at you. You were tied to a metal chair tightly and you had a cloth shoved into your mouth. He couldn’t help but notice the tears dripping down your cheeks, making you wince. 

“Sorry, Spider-man, but no can do-” A stocky man, who wasn’t holding the gun to your head. “You see, we’ve been trying to track you down and quite frankly you aren’t exactly easy to catch, but it’s quite obvious that you can barely keep your identity concealed.”

Peter flinched as he heard you whimper, the gun being pressed against your head. 

“I know you want to have us let her go, but it’s only on one condition. You oblige to us videoing you- and you must reveal your identity to the public.”

Peter’s eyes widened, the white eyes of his mask doing so to show his expression. He looked at you and watched you shake your head, saying not to. But if he did this- he could save you. You’d be safe. He needed you to be safe. It was his main priority. 

“I’ll do it.”

Then it was set up. The camera that would be playing live. Peter still stood in the same spot, but he was trembling from the nervousness. When the camera turned on, Peter took a deep breath and stared straight into the camera.

“Uh- It’s Spider-man if you haven’t realized and I have an important announcement. Someone I care for so much is being held at gunpoint and I’ve had no choice but to do something in order to save them,” he paused. “I am telling you about my identity. Who I am without the mask.”

Gripping the ends of his mask, he carefully began pulling it off to reveal his face.

“My name is Peter Parker. And I am Spider-man.”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, watching the man smirk behind the camera.

“I’m just a kid from Queens- I’m only doing this so save some- NO-”

A gunshot. The camera was cut off leaving the people of New York in a state of shock. Peter reached out desperately, a bloody gunshot wound in your stomach as you sat in the chair. 

“You said you would let her go!” He cried out, rage and fury boiling in his blood causing him to only see red. He shot a taser web out from his suit, the webs coiling around the one with the gun and electrocuting him. Peter didn’t care if the man was dead or not. He only cared about you. He shot a web to the ceiling dodging the main guy who had been threatening him. He moved out of the way before kicking the man back, snatching the gun and throwing it across the room. It didn’t take Peter long to web the man up before he dashed to your side, freeing you from the ropes tied around you. 

“Y/n, oh my god, I’m so sorry- I should have been more careful. I’m going to get you to a hospital,” he choked out, holding back the sobs he wanted to scream out. The brunet took you into his arms, not caring about his mask before he swung off, racing to the hospital. 

When reaching the hospital, you were taken into emergency surgery. Peter managed to call your father, MJ, Ned, and Aunt May. He was worried sick the entire time, pacing frantically in the waiting room without his mask and in his Spider-man suit. It wasn’t like it mattered anyway. Everyone knew he was Spider-man.

You were resting in a patient room not long after, but it took you three days to wake up. Peter was by your side the entire time, only heading home to shower and actually put some clothes on. He even bought you some flowers. Chrysanthemums.

He learned what they meant on his own. They meant “I love you.” He couldn’t even express how much he loved you in words so he attempted to do it with flowers. The red flowers sat in a glass vase as Peter sat in a chair beside your bed, his eyes closed but his hand holding onto yours.

“I love you too.”

Peter’s eyes shot open and he sat up instantly. You stared at him with your eyes halfway open. 

“Hey, Peter,” you smiled gently. 

He leaned forward, taking your hand in both of his and pressing soft kisses against your skin gently. A few tears brimmed in his eyes as he looked at you. “Y/n, I’m so sorry- I’m so so so sorry about everything. I should have protected you-:

“Pete, it’s okay. I forgive you.” You explained, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Sure, I was utterly terrified that I was going to die in those few moments, but knowing how stubborn you are, I knew you wouldn’t let that happen. I’m safe because of you and I thank you for that. Also, thank you for the flowers.”

He chuckled softly, pressing another kiss to your hand. “I had to do a little research, but I managed to find a flower that meant ‘i love you’ that wasn’t cliche.” This caused you to giggle. Peter carefully leaned over, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. 

In those last few weeks, you managed to teach Peter something so valuable and important to him. You taught them that a single flower meant more than a simple “I love you.” 

↳ taglist — @hey-its-grey @natalia-rushman @glimmering-gamora @lovesick-valkyrie @pufflypuffle @uglypastels @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @spidermansmj14 @simi11 @abby-blxck @pxterbpxrker @softboydeacon @scoobieboobiedoo @euphoricmads @not-jay-c @marveley @jammelchinas @sadgirlhours247 @neverlandparker @fairytaleparker @laureharrier @hey-it’s-grey @starklovebot @glimmering-gamora @lovesick-valkyrie @pufflypuffle@uglypastels @Learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @spidermansmj14 @simi11 @abby-blxck @bbyaubergine  @pxterbpxrker @softboydeacon @Scoobieboobiedoo@euphoricmads @not-jay-c  @marveley  @jammelchinas @sadgirlhours247 @daphsingsalot @neverlandparker @laureharrier

[best-life-hacks-on]

20 Life-Changing Books!

By Seth Adam Smith

If you want to change your body, change what you eat and how you exercise. If you want to change your outlook on life, change what you read and put it into practice.

Listed below are twenty life-changing books. Unless you are determined to be miserable (which, strangely enough, some people are), these books will change your life for the better. Click on the titles to order a copy for yourself, then mark them up and put them into practice.

1. Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl - In this book, the author details his experiences in an Auschwitz concentration camp, while simultaneously sharing his perspective on living a meaningful life. The book has sold well over 10 million copies and has been consistently listed as one of the most influential books ever written. From the book: “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”

2. As A Man Thinketh by James Allen - Although you could probably finish this little booklet in less than an hour or two, its words are powerful and profound. Words like these: “A man’s mind may be likened to a garden, which may be intelligently cultivated or allowed to run wild; but whether cultivated or neglected, it must, and will, bring forth. If no useful seeds are put into it, then an abundance of useless weed seeds will fall therein, and will continue to produce their kind.”

3. The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown - In this book, the author addresses how to find deep personal worth while living in a world that is constantly bombarded by messages of who, what, and how we should be. From the book: “Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.”

4. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho - This is a fantastic, beautiful narrative about finding out who we are and fearlessly chasing our own “personal legend.” In this book, Coelho says: “There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.”

5. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo - Does this book really need any explaining? It follows the life of reformed convict, Jean Valjean, and illustrates the power and beauty of redemption. From the book: “To love another person is to see the face of God.”

6. The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch - Diagnosed with terminal, pancreatic cancer, professor Randy Pausch delivered his “last lecture” at Carnegie Mellon in September of 2007. His lecture was structured around the hypothetical question: “What wisdom would you try to impart to the world if you knew it was your last chance?” The book fleshes out the ideas presented in the last lecture and was co-authored and approved by Pausch before he died. From the book: “The key question to keep asking is, Are you spending your time on the right things? Because time is all you have.”

7. To Kill a Mockingbird - To put it simply, Atticus Finch is one of the best, noblest characters ever written into existence. From the book: “I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.”

8. The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck - Where do I start? This book is honestly one of my absolute favorite books of all time. It is packed with incredible insight and solutions for confronting and solving some of life’s greatest problems. For example, consider this: “Problems call forth our courage and our wisdom; indeed, they create our courage and wisdom.”

9. Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff by Richard Carlson - This book helps you overcome “the small stuff” that can drive you crazy. It is filled with supportive and thoughtful suggestions on how to live a more peaceful life. From the book: “...when you let go of your expectations, when you accept life as it is, you’re free.To hold on is to be serious and uptight. To let go is to lighten up.”

10. The Seven Paths by the Anasazi Foundation - This poetic, evocative story presents the meditations of an ancient Anasazi tribesman who learns that the point of life’s walk is how one is moved in the heart. He walks seven paths, each teaching a lesson symbolized by an element of the natural world: light, wind, water, stone, plants, animals, and, finally, the unity of all beings with the Creator.

11. The Secret by Rhonda Byrne - In this bestselling book, various individuals share their insight and experience with “The Secret” (the law of attraction). While this book can get a little mystical, it does a really good job at explaining how our mental outlook can affect all areas of our lives (for you business types, I would also recommend Think And Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill).

12. 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Steven Covey - This book is consistently listed as one of the most inspiring books ever written and has sold more than 15 million copies worldwide. From the book: “But until a person can say deeply and honestly, “I am what I am today because of the choices I made yesterday,” that person cannot say, “I choose otherwise.”

13. The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis - If you’d like to read some more inspirational fiction, check out these classics by C. S. Lewis. Not only are they entertaining, but they’re also filled with timeless wisdom about addiction, sin, guilt, and the nature of man. Plus, the seventh book is quite possibly one of the most beautiful fiction books I’ve ever read. From the book: “Now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

14. How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie - I’m a fairly introverted person, so I’m not exactly going out of my way to meet new people. But this book provides some great, practical advice on working with and helping people. I’m a big believer in finding happiness. From the book: “You can make more friends in two months by becoming interested in other people than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you.”

15. The Greatest Salesman in the World by Og Mandino - This book probably isn’t what you think it is, but I won’t spoil the surprise. From the book: “Wealth, my son, should never be your goal in life. Your words are eloquent but they are mere words. True wealth is of the heart, not of the purse.”

16. The Great Divorce by C. S. Lewis - In this allegorical story, a busload of sinners leave the depths of hell to see what heaven might be like. When they get there, they are told that they can stay in heaven if they can give up the sins that are holding them back. Through an array of characters struggling with different vices, C. S. Lewis masterfully illustrates that, more often than not, we are the very things that are holding ourselves back.

17. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak - I don’t even know how to describe this book. It’s beautiful, heart-breaking, yet very comforting—all at the same time. It tells the story of a little girl growing up in Germany during World War II. There is one scene in the book (which was left out of the movie) that is absolutely astounding—reading that one scene is worth every minute spent reading the whole book.

18. The Shack by William P. Young - After his youngest daughter is murdered by a serial killer, Mackenzie Allen Phillips receives a mysterious note—apparently from God—telling him to return to “the shack,” the scene of the crime. What happens next is a spiritual journey of love and forgiveness that forever changes his life. From the book: “[...] love is much stronger than your fault could ever be.”

19. The Book of Virtues by William J. Bennett - This book is a massive collection of some of the greatest stories ever told. I actually have a copy of it on the corner of my desk right now—one of the stories in that book changed my life.

20. Sacred Writings - I don’t know if you’re a religious person or not, so this one is entirely up to you. But I believe that many religions contain incredible, invaluable, time-tested truths—and we would be foolish to simply ignore them. At the very least, there’s something to be said of getting in touch with your religious/cultural roots.

If you like any of these books, please be sure to check out my own book “Your Life Isn’t For You.” In it, I draw upon inspirational stories from history and literature to illustrate my deep conviction that the only way you can truly find and live your life is to give it away to others.

Follow Seth Adam Smith on Twitter:

www.twitter.com/SethAdamSmith

[eldritchsurveys]

672.

When was the last time you let someone know you truly love him/her? >> Hm.

Do you complain when you are bored, or look for something to do? >> I might say that I’m bored, conversationally, if I’m not alone. But usually I just flop around and wait until my brain settles down. (Usually, boredom for me isn’t a lack of things to do, it’s just a kind of restlessness or anxiety that prevents me from doing anything or focusing on anything.)

Do other people's complaints ever get on your nerves? >> Sure.

Generally, what is your favorite ride at an amusement park? >> I remember liking roller coasters, but I haven’t been to an amusement park in a long time.

Who is your favorite 90's musical artist? >> I mean, a lot of the music I enjoy is from the nineties...

Do you think that music was better when your parents were young, or now? >> Music is just music. Some of it I like, some of it I don’t like, but every time period in the past century-plus has had its pop music that older people hate. I think it’s just more difficult to adapt to new music trends as one gets older, and one is more likely to experience nostalgia for the music they grew up with, and mistakenly assume that their nostalgia means that the music was obviously objectively better back then. There are some musical trends that I wish were still knocking around, sure, but there are some new trends that I love, too. People will always be around making music that I like, no matter what year it is.

How did you develop your specific taste in music? >> I mean, it wasn’t any effort on my part. I just like what I like; I assume it’s mostly subconscious.

If you drink coffee, how do you like it (with cream, black, etc)? >> Black.

Did your parents sign you up for things like piano lessons and ballet? >> He always signed me up for things I didn’t enjoy, and then wondered why I didn’t perform to his standards.

What is your favorite children's song? >> I don’t have one.

Is there a funny story about yourself that you like telling others? >> Probably, but I can’t remember it right now.

Are you good at telling jokes? >> No, I don’t have the memory for constructed jokes.

Are you uptight, or are you easy going? >> I’m neurotic about some things because of how I’m wired, and I’m pretty apathetic about other things for the same reason.

Other than gas, what do you frequently purchase at a gas station? >> I don’t regularly buy things at gas stations.

What is one concern you have about the present state of the world? >> Meh.

Ten years ago, did you think that this was how the world would turn out? >> I wasn’t thinking about how the world would turn out ten years from then.

Ever think you might be better off living in a different time period? >> No.

Do you drink regular or diet soda? >> If I’m going to drink soda, I’m going to drink regular soda.

What CDs would you take with you on a road trip? >> Thank god for Spotify.

Think of your favorite band? What album by them is your LEAST favorite? >> I don’t have a favourite band.

Have you seen your favorite band in concert? If so, how was it? >> I’ve seen live several bands I’ve called “favourite” in the past. They were all great shows.

Do you walk regularly? >> I don’t. Especially not in this season.

Did you take a Health class in high school? How was it? >> Yeah. I don’t know, I slept through most of it.

If you could have the answer to one question, what question would that be? >> ---

Do you like any bands from other countries? >> Sure, of course.

When was the last time you mailed a handwritten letter? >> Uh... middle school?

Do you still receive Christmas cards? >> Not unless I do a card exchange amongst my tumblr mutuals, which I did do one year. But executive dysfunction got in the way last season so I didn’t get around to it.

Do you know anyone who is really hard to please? >> I mean, maybe.

What gets you through the day? >> *shrug*

Do you have a Before Bed routine? >> Not really. I just make sure to take my pill at around 10p.

Describe your stance on organized religion? >> I don’t have a stance on it, really. I find some aspects of it fascinating, some aspects of it helpful, and other aspects of it harmful. Just like... anything, I guess? I’m considering conversion to a particular organised religion, but I’ve been spoiled by the sheer freedom of being unaffiliated and I’m not sure how willing I am to give that up.

Describe your stance on religion in general? >> I’m notoriously interested in and even passionate about religion in general, even when I don’t care to personally participate in it. It’s one of those things I’d consider majoring in if I was in any way inclined towards formal education.

If you found out your bf/gf was homosexual, how would you react? >> Whaaaaat? The woman that is always saying “I’m gay” at any given occasion (particularly when she sees other women) is not straight?????? News to me.

If you are homosexual, and you find out your bf/gf is straight, then what? >> I mean, that’s a situation I can’t really imagine being in.

Have you ever sung karaoke? What songs? Was it fun? >> I’ve sung at live-band karaoke... I’d say around 100, 150 times? I was pretty much a regular. My go-to songs included Smells Like Teen Spirit, Jeremy, and No One Knows. Oh, and The Trooper until I saw [fellow regular] Dorit do a belly-dance bit with a sword on her head during the solo. I think all of us regulars gave up on doing The Trooper after that, lmfao.

Do you study for big tests? >> ---

What makes you nervous? >> Oh, a few things, I guess.

Have you called anyone today? What did you talk about? >> No.

When was the last time you went bowling? >> The last time I was even in a bowling alley is when I was eighteen. The only reason I remember is because that was the last time I saw Thomas before he died. (That bowling alley isn’t even there anymore. Always thought a bowling alley in Port Authority was weird, anyway...)

Do you drive around the neighborhood to look at lights around Xmas? >> We usually just see them on regular drives. When I lived in the Pine Barrens as a preteen, it was nice because we lived by a four-mile-long lake, and you could always see the reflections of the lights across the lake in the water. Also, there was this one house that always went absolutely apeshit with the lights every year. I shudder to think of their electric bill.

Why are so many single people bitter on Valentine's Day? >> Because they’re lonely or have been hurt by exes or are unhappily aromantic, and don’t like being bombarded by hearts and romantic shit everywhere. It’s not rocket science, dude.

What holiday is a big deal for you? >> I mean, Christmas. I enjoy it and for once in my life I get to fully celebrate it.

What is one tradition you hate participating in? >> I don’t know, but whatever it is, I probably just refuse to participate in it period.

Have you ever been sledding? >> Nope.

Do you have acne? >> Not since high school.

Have you made a fool of yourself today? >> Not to my knowledge.

Is there someone you wish you could talk to, but you're too afraid? >> Not specifically. But in general, fear is the foundation of why I don’t open up to people.

Do you have a favorite cookie? >> I like lemon cookies...

When was the last time you did something for someone else? >> Neighbour left her key in her door and I knocked on the door to alert her to it.

Do you let other people choose the radio stations in your car? >> ---

Would you say that you are an accepting and openminded person? >> Sure.

Have you ever been convinced to try something you didn't want to do? >> Not if I really didn’t want to do it. I’ve been convinced to try things that I was on the fence about.

What happened? How did you feel about your choice? >> ---

Have you ever tried to influence someone else? >> I mean, sure, probably.

When was the last time you cheated--at anything? >> I don’t remember.

Do you play any online computer games? If so, what? >> Yeah. I play several MMOs (not at the same time, I usually alternate between them from month to month).

What food can you not seem to get enough of? >> Cheese and crackers, for some reason.

When you are mad at someone, how do you show them? >> I usually just don’t talk to them or don’t give any friendly social cues. Kind of freeze them out, I guess. I figure most people don’t care if I’m upset with them or not, so it doesn’t make any sense to tell them or have a conversation about it. That may be fallacious, but I... also haven’t been explicitly proven wrong yet, lol.

Do you like to think that you are better than other people? >> No.

When was the last time you felt you had a reality check? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever felt out of touch with reality? >> Sure, many times.

Have you ever been sick to the point of possibly dying? >> Nope.

Have you ever had a tooth pulled? >> Yes, because I can’t afford a root canal.

How long do you you usually chew a stick of gum? >> Not that long. The flavour only lasts like five minutes at best, after all, and once the flavour’s gone the gum starts to lose pliability.

Did you chew gum in school, even if it was against the rules? >> I don’t recall doing so.

Did you take a foreign language in school? >> I tried. I didn’t get very far because of changing schools all the time, being in the mental hospital all the time, and also that stupid fiasco where I got no credit for a whole year of Spanish I (I don’t remember why, but it was definitely some bullshit).

Did you attempt to make Honor Roll? Did you make it? >> I only made honour roll in elementary.

What was your favorite school project? >> That report I did about Jim Morrison. Or that project I did about the war against rock and roll, lol (you know, the Satanic Panic around metal music and all that noise; I basically got tired of being told I listened to “devil music” and decided to expose the ridiculousness of it in my final project).

Did you attend any school dances? >> I mean, I went to prom.

Were you in any after school clubs? >> I tried to be, but my father made me leave them because he didn’t approve of the kinds of clubs I wanted to be in (and I didn’t want to be in the kinds of clubs he approved of).

Was there any teacher that made life living hell for you? >> I definitely felt that way.

How about any student(s)? >> Some years, yes.

When was the last time you felt overwhelmed? >> I don’t remember. It’s a common occurrence so I don’t make much note of it when it happens.

Which parent are you more apt to go to if you're upset? >> ---

Do you have any coffee mugs with funny pictures/sayings? >> I have a mug with a cute cactus on it! But Sparrow has all the punny mugs (they’re all cat puns).

Describe your favorite t-shirt? >> ---

Describe something strange that you own? >> Hmm... not sure I own anything strange. Or maybe it’s just that nothing I own is strange to me.

What do you like to do on a friday night? >> Go to Cafe Boba for a weekly meetup group.

What do you like to do on a sunday night? >> Whatever.

Are monday's a drag for you? >> No more or less than any other day of the week.

Do you think graffiti is a valid form of artistic expression? >> Of course.

Do you know where the food you eat comes from? >> Of course not, I live in the US. It’s all a clusterfuck of obfuscation.

Do you ever worry about where the world will be in 20 years? >> No. My peers seem to have that covered.

Have you spent much time contemplating your death? >> Oh, definitely.

Do you know what you want your funeral to be like? >> I know that I want a home vigil (assuming I die when I’m older, after we’ve already bought an actual home). If I die, like, tomorrow or whatever, I guess people can do whatever they want funeral-wise because I’m not interested. Just bury me in a cardboard or pine box in the green section at that one cemetery near us, please. Not in a fucking thousand-dollar metal casket or whatever. Let me decay.

How often do you think dirty thoughts? >> I don’t know, often enough, I guess.

Can mere images turn you on? How about words? >> Images, sure. Words, if they come from Inworld, yeah...

Do you give a good back massage? >> No.

Do you think that feet are disgusting? >> I mean, not inherently. At least they don’t... secrete stuff. (I mean, besides sweat.)

Do you have a girlish scream? >> I don’t recall ever screaming, period.

When was the last time you screamed? >> ^

What is your political affiliation? >> I don’t have one, but I usually vote Democrat.

Are you registered to vote? >> Yeah.

Are you GOING to vote? >> *sigh* Yeah, guess I oughta.

Do you think you would enjoy living in college dorms? >> No. Nooooo no no no no.

Have you ever been to the YMCA? >> Yeah.

If you ditched school, where did you go? >> ---

Have you ever been offered drugs? What, and by who? >> I mean, by friends. Not by complete strangers the way D.A.R.E. insisted. (I mean, that probably does happen too, just not at all with the frequency one would expect...)

Are you afraid to walk places at night if you are alone? >> No.

What's in your school backpack? >> ---

Are you put off by overly social people? >> No. I’m easily exhausted by very extroverted, exuberant people, is all. Doesn’t mean I don’t like them as people.

What do you think of people who are shy? >> I don’t think anything of them, specifically. Some people are just shy. That’s fine.