#at least the new third floor adds a bit more space for pictures to the house!

[damnredthing]

The mother of all trailers

If the show is anywhere near as good as the trailer, we are so going to be in for a hell of a ride.

This post will contain a lot of ramblings, guesses, what ifs and a bunch of observations. I’ll try to keep the topics chronologically to the scenes as they appear in the trailer, UNLESS I think scenes belong together. I’ll also borrow from some of the other trailers when I remember something that fits in here.

First off – the soundtrack

Will that actually be the soundtrack of the show? It sounds so unique and awesome. It totally adds to the hype. I actually felt like my heart was vibrating when the subwoofer went into hyperbole mode. The soundtrack has been stuck in my head since I heard it for the first time, arrrrgghh!

 Cuteness overload

Pike:

Me:

Nuff said.

The nurse onesie is not a Chapel trademark

This pic of the very cozy looking lounge shows that the nurse onesie Chapel is wearing in her promo trailer is not exclusively a Chapel thing (which I am a bit sad about).

On a side note, look at those reflections on the floor! I love the level of detail here.

Touching the space egg is never a good idea

I think the guy touching the space egg and getting a free flight in return is (for a change!) not Pike. I thought he was at first (because he is a trouble magnet), but at a second and third look, I think it’s a science officer. The away team consists of 2 reds (Uhura and La’an) and two blues (Spock and unknown science officer).

Here you can see it’s clearly not Pike.

My guess is it’s the guy on this picture next to Uhura.

And I go even further and call him Lt. Dever from episode 1.5 according to IMDB played by Graham Parkhurst:

https://www.imdb.com/name/nm8525925/?ref_=tt_cl_t_11

I love this job

I know this scene is meant to be funny and cute, but oh man am I glad to hear Pike say these words!

It is so good to see him come to terms with his fate, at least to the degree that he can allow himself to enjoy his life as long as he has it. Remember, he thinks he is going to die. He does not know what we know. He could also fall into a deep depression over this knowledge, but it seems he chooses the opposite path and makes the best of his life.

This whole dark fade shadowing over Pike is like a shadow over the whole show. He is such a lovable character, and yet we all already know what’s going to happen to him. Even though Pike will be able to live with Vina in the illusions created by the Talosians, it still means he will be exiled from Starfleet, Earth and everyone else he loves. It is not a happy ending in my book and I still hope they gonna retcon that… or rather continue to tell the story of what happens after Pike stayed on Talos IV for a while. It wouldn’t even be a retcon, just a continuation!

I mean, the producers said this show would be utopian and filled with positive vibes. Let the show end in a positive way, too, by finding a better solution for Pike and Vina, pretty please?

More additional badges!

Remember the additional badge I mentioned in one of my last posts, the one Ortegas is wearing?

The new trailer shows also Chapel, M’Benga and Pike wearing them:

I have no idea what that badge is. But in all scenes the crew seems to be stressed out. Sickbay is busy and crowded, Ortegas is very focused on piloting the Enterprise and Pike sits in a dark ready room or his quarters, probably due to power outtages. He also looks a bit sweaty. You can hear him conjuring his crew, motivating them. I am thinking this is a disaster scenario that probably involves a radiation leak or something like that, and the badges are maybe some sort of dosimeter.

Deserted base?

I think the scene with Spock and Pike on the sandy stormy planet is from the same episode as the scene in Una’s and Hemmer’s promo trailers:

The constructions look like earth design. It’s probably a deserted human colony.

What made me chuckle is how Uni hails the Enterprise telling them that the storm is only getting closer, and who do we actually see ending up in the storm?

Of course…

Have I already mentioned how much I love those jackets? I want one! I totally do! I’ve never been a cosplayer, but I want one of those jackets.

Alien infestation on the Enterprise?

It looks like the Enterprise is going to have some trouble with alien critters invading the ship.

Okay, I probably am weird, because I find this alien cute, too (minus the teeth)!

The sheer amount of aliens presented just in the few minutes of the trailers is amazing! Strange New Worlds, people. We really get what we asked for!

Okay people, we need to talk

This scene is what keeps me thinking about this episode for days now.

Besides that it looks absolutely beautiful, the one thing that sticks out to me is that you can see Pike on the right side standing next to a lady. That alone is not what makes me thinking, but the fact that he is the ONLY one from the Enterprise crew on this picture. And if you look at all the other scenes that (I think) belong to this episode, it’s always just him.

From the looks of it, there seems to be royalty involved. The boy in the foreground is probably a prince or the new young king or some such. The lady next to Pike is maybe his mother?

I wonder whether she is also the lady in ahem… this scene:

Why I think both scenes belong to the same episode?

Because you can see the bedroom again in a later scene:

First of all you can see the bed on the right side. The overall interior looks the same. Also, Pike shielding a woman (THE woman presumably), again being the only visible Enterprise crew. There are 4 guards (one of which is about to be vaporized) with lance weapons, I assume they belong to the royal guards. We do not see the attacker. I hope it’s none from the Enterprise because I want to see as few deaths as possible in this show, especially not caused by Starfleet crew. However, these guards are the same in their appearance as these 3 people here:

They are running on lawn. I guess this is part of the exterior garden we’ve seen in the first pic. I wonder who they are chasing.

Maybe this guy?

All these scenes combined and the fact that we only ever see Pike on that planet makes me wonder what’s really going on there. I gotta admit I was struggling with the picture of Pike and that other woman that is not Vina. My headcanon is now trying to find an excuse for that. :P

What if the royal family just doesn’t want Pike to return to his ship and somehow produce an interference signal that prevents him from communicating and beaming. The guards are probably trying to apprehend him. Who else should Pike point his phaser at? Also look at the two onlookers in the background. If there wasn’t a fuss to catch their attention – say a group of guards trying to apprehend someone – they wouldn’t even notice that Pike was threatening someone. No, there must be something going on that is enough of a disturbance to make them watch.

Maybe there is some trickery or seduction or aphrodisiac or mind fucking involved to keep Pike on that planet and to make him interested in that woman. As royals they maybe think they can have everything they want.

I know I am grasping at straws here (I really want Pike to be with Vina). I am curious what it will turn out to be in the end.

What is going on here?

Are Una and La’an standing on the Enterprise’s hull without EV suites? How is that even possible? Is that alien entity doing that? Or is that a force field bubble in the background? Or did the Enterprise maybe land on a planet? I have so many questions…

Diplomacy disaster

This is not going to be Pike’s diplomacy moment of glory. This could cost him a lot of diplomacy skill points for his Timelines cards. :P

I love Ortegas’s sass. I hope she’s going to walk that slippery slope without falling flat on her nose. Sass can get quite close to insubordination.

What is going on here 2.0?

Now this looks interesting!

And what a wonderful easter egg! Ortegas is the pilot of the Enterprise, and she is a fencer.

And Sulu – who is probably going to be Ortegas’s successor – is the pilot of the Enterprise, and he is a fencer.

But what in the heck is going on here on the Enterprise? This IS the Enterprise, the hallway, the floor and the red door all look like the Enterprise. We also see sickbay slightly modified as well:

We see Ortegas and in the background Hemmer.

We see Uhura, probably as the Queen. And is that La’an on the right side as one of her guards? I wonder who Queen Uhura is looking down to (I have an idea though).

And we see Una mastering her crossbow skills.

I wonder what Pike’s role will be, maybe the harlequin?

Or maybe he is the only one who is normal and finds himself on a totally changed Enterprise with his entire crew in other roles.

I think this is going to be a comedic relief episode.

Ooookay, we need to talk… again!

How can this

and this

lead to this?

I mean, come on! Pike beams over with 4 (!) redshirts and he is the one who gets captured? How did the other 4 even make it back to the Enterprise (presuming they did) and Pike not? Beam trap? Cold knock-out?

Pike’s company here is everything but good news. We have one Orion – who is probably the leader of this group – and maybe a Reman(?) who is doing the dirty deeds, and then a humanoid holding Pike, who we cannot see.

What do they want from Pike? Did they just grab the only one with the shiny golden armor assuming he must be a big shot? Or do they know who they captured and it was maybe even an assignment? We know from IMDB there is a piracy episode. Piracy in our times works like this: Get the ship under control, dispose of the crew, keep the Captain as the most valuable “asset”, demand ransom from the shipping company. Maybe there’s something like this going on here.

But then again, there is an Orion and that alone makes me nervous. It is a nice backlash to “The Cage” though, in which Pike pondered about running a business on the Orion colony (meaning joining their slavery business). And now here he is tied and on his knees with an Orion pirate staring down on him. Right in yo face (like, literally!).

This “conversation” must have been going on for a bit already, as the multiple bruises on Pike’s face and his disheveled hair suggest:

My first question is: Why - of all people - did Pike go on this mission into non-federation space with 4 redshirts? And if the pirates planned to capture the Captain all along, how did they manage to lure him on this mission? (okay, that were 2 questions)

My second (third) question is: What are they trying to get Pike to do that requires torture? Do they want his security codes (which would be useless because if the Captain gets captured, what is the first thing Number 1 is going to change on the Enterprise)? Do they want him to do anything else? Or are they just being a$$holes on a power trip?

The Orion guy is holding a small bowl in his hand. Maybe this is some “eat this dog food, or we make you” thing.

Whatever it is, Pike is in a quite hopeless and very shitty situation there.

I hate violence (especially directed at people I care for), I already struggled with this when I watched Hell on Wheels. But I also understand that this is an often used tool to create drama and suspense. I just hope Pike won’t get roughened up too much here and he gets freed fast. It is never a good thing to be around an Orion on the losing end. Never!

And please don’t let this be the last episode of the season ending in a cliffhanger. I swear to god, I would go batshit crazy.

 I wanna close this thing by wishing you all a happy First Contact Day! LLAP

[arrowflier]

i wish you would write them househunting 😏 🍅 🐕

"Don't see why we gotta move anyway, man," Mickey complains again as they hop off the L near their destination. He shoulders past a woman staring at her phone who doesn't move fast enough, flipping her off when she shouts after him. It's hard enough keeping up with Ian's long damn legs without people getting in his way.

"You're the one that doesn't like our place, Mick," Ian reminds him, and Mickey scowls. There's no way Ian can see it, still being a step ahead, but somehow he knows.

"And don't scowl about it, you big baby, you know it's true," Ian adds. They're separated again before Mickey can respond, a gaggle of teenagers wandering obliviously between them.

When the space clears again, Ian is there waiting for him, hand outstretched with an expectant look in his eyes. Mickey sighs.

"I'm not a fuckin' toddler, man," he grumbles, but he takes his husband's hand all the same. "And I like our place just fine."

Ian snorts as he starts walking again, pulling Mickey along at a pace more friendly to his shorter stride.

"Sure," he agrees, "You love it. And I definitely didn't catch you throwing pebbles off the balcony at our neighbors the other day."

"Ey, that was one time!" Mickey protests. "And that douche moved out, so we're cool now."

"Uh huh," Ian says knowingly. "Totally cool, Mick. But hey, I think you'll like this place a little more."

"Why's that?" Mickey asks suspiciously. He looks around, notes some familiar houses. He hadn't been paying attention to where they were going, too preoccupied with trying to convince Ian that they didn't need to move; really, he was just getting used to the Westside, he didn't want to end up somewhere he didn't know the streets again already.

But it didn't look like that was going to be much of a problem.

"Whoa, wait," he voices, coming to a halt. Ian stops just ahead of him, still connected by their clasped hands, and watches him realize what's happening.

"You're bringin' us back Southside?" Mickey asks. He knows he sounds a bit awed, but he can't help it. "Thought you wanted out, man. Wasn't that the whole point?"

But when he looks at Ian, all he sees is his smile.

"The point was us being happy, dipshit," Ian says, and okay. Mickey can give him that one.

--

The first place they see isn't quite what either of them expected. It's a new development on an old plot, and apparently the pictures Ian had seen online weren't quite so...trendy?...as it came off in person.

"The yard is nice," Ian offers as they stand in the middle of the wide open space that serves as kitchen, living room, office, and guest space. Strangers milled around them, other couples and even a few students that showed up for the free food advertised in the open house flyers, all raving about the 'open concept' style.

"You mean that tiny patch of astroturf out there?" Mickey replies to Ian's attempt at optimism. He laughs. "Yeah, good luck transplanting your fucking tomatoes in that, moron."

"Wait, that's not grass?" Ian asks, peering harder out the floor-to-ceiling windows that were letting in way too much heat.

"You ever seen grass that green around here?" Mickey asks back, and Ian grimaces.

"Come on, man," Mickey prompts him, walking back toward the front door. He grabs a doughnut from the kitchen counter on the way, taking a bite and calling back to Ian with his mouth full.

"Not enough walls in here anyway, nothin' for you to hold me against while we fuck."

He ignores the shocked gasp of the realtor and a few muffled snickers from the younger members of the crowd, but Ian turns bright red and rushes over to usher him out.

--

The second place they see has the opposite problem. It's in decent shape for as old as it is, probably one of the last original houses in the area, but it's...a lot.

"How many fucking rooms are there in this place?" Mickey wonders as they wander through. They're the only ones there this time, having let themselves in with the key from the lock box on the front door, and Mickey can see why. The house is like a labyrinth, doors everywhere, and none of it makes any fucking sense.

"Thought you wanted lots of rooms to fuck in, remember?" Ian says from behind him. A second later, Mickey finds himself shoved up against the wall of the tiny third bedroom, Ian's hands on his sides and mouth nipping just behind his ear.

He groans and tries to push back into it, but then Ian is cursing and pulling back. Mickey turns to see him rubbing his elbow where he obviously hit it on the edge of the door, which sticks way too far into the room.

"Lots of room, yeah," Mickey snickers as Ian glares at him for the lack of sympathy. "This place just feels like lots of closets, and I've had enough of those."

--

The third place is better. It's something in between, a spruced up two-story with decent yard space and, if not grass, at least some real dirt to work with.

"Hey Mickey, come up here!" Ian calls from the second floor, and Mickey stops poking through the kitchen cabinets to search him out.

He finds him in what must be the master bedroom, laying on a huge pillowtop bed.

"Hey, check this out," Ian says when he sees him enter, and Mickey rolls his eyes.

"The bed doesn't come with the place, Ian," he points out. "Or did you forget what we learned last time?"

Ian laughs. "Nah, not the bed Mick. Just come here."

Mickey gives in to his beckoning and sits next to him on the high mattress, and Ian abruptly pulled him down to lay beside him.

"Up there," Ian says softly, pointing to the ceiling with one pale hand.

Mickey looks. Then he looks harder, because painted on the ceiling above the bed is a mural of silver stars against the dark blue of a night sky, weaving between faint white clouds and a bright crescent moon.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Ian remarks, rolling over to watch Mickey's reaction. He strokes Mickey's arm where it lies on the silky duvet.

"Yeah," Mickey manages. "Real pretty. A little gay though."

Ian laughs. "Think we're that gay yet?" he questions. It sounds like a joke, but Mickey is pretty sure there's nothing joking about it.

That assumption is confirmed when Ian continues.

"I like this place, Mickey," he whispers. "It's got good bones, a nice yard for Basil--"

"We can't pick a fucking house for the dog, Ian," Mickey interjects, but Ian ignores him.

"And I think it would be a big step, for us." He sounds so earnest, and something in Mickey's heart twinges.

"Yeah? You sign the lease already?" Mickey asks, just to be a little shit.

"Fuck off," Ian answers immediately, but without heat.

"I'm serious, Mickey," he says after a moment. "I think we'd be good here." He reaches over to place a hand on Mickey's face, turning it toward himself. "But I want you to agree with me this time. No more doing things on my own. If we're gonna do this, we decide together."

Mickey isn't sure what's brighter--the stars on the ceiling or the love in Ian's eyes.

"Yeah, okay, you soft fucker," he murmurs, relishing the grin that lifts Ian's lips and stretches across his whole face. "Let's do this."

"Yeah?" Ian breathes, leaning in closer.

"Yeah," Mickey confirms. Ian goes in for a kiss, and Mickey let him get in a soft peck before pulling back and swinging his legs off the bed.

"But you get to mow our new yard and pick up all the dog shit, Gallagher, nobody's gonna do it for ya here!"

Mickey grins as he takes off to finish exploring the rest of the house, Ian shouting "Hey, not fair!" from behind him.

[thedudewiththedragontattoos]

Downtown Revamp - A complete overhaul of Downtown from The Sims 2 Nightlife

It’s finally here! This is going to be a long post, please read everything before you download, as there is quite a bit of information to go over! Let’s get started!

First, a picture of the finalized Downtown!

Click here for a relatively complete imgur album of all the lots!

*The pics are not in order. I seriously cannot be bothered going through 140 pictures. Sorry!

*Please note that some of the venues may look different in the final download than the pictures. This is because after building everything I went through and picked/replaced all of the CC that I felt wasn’t 100% necessary to use in the hood, thus some of the color schemes of the lots may differ, especially on interiors.

What is this?

 If you haven’t been following me for the past few weeks, I took on a project to completely renovate all of Downtown from The Sims 2 Nightlife. This means all lots have been completely remodeled and updated. No more fugly Maxis lots! I had three main goals for this project - First, to update everything to look good and be fun to play, second to have each lot offer a unique “experience”, and third, to keep the original feeling of the lots in tact. 

This comes in two versions - a Subhood version that you can add to your existing hoods, like you would with a traditional Downtown, and a Main Hood  version, so you can play my updated Downtown as a main hood if you’d like!

General Information:

I renovated every single lot (except four lots which I removed from the hood, more on that later). Downtown had a special way of reusing the same idea for multiple different lots - I stopped counting how many dark vampy dance lounges with raised or lowered dance floors there were. Three freakin bowling alleys? As I mentioned earlier, I wanted each lot to have its own reason for you to come visit, and there were four lots that I ultimately felt offered nothing and wouldn’t be missed if they were taken out. The following lots are not in this Downtown:

Lost in Love Hedge Maze

P.U.R.E.

The Corner Shoppes

Comandgo Emporium

Aside from those four lots, every lot has been renovated - Including Residential lots!

This is not populated. There are no townies and/or Tricou ghosts.

There are a few unavoidable NPC’s that have spawned when I made this such as a busker and the New Year’s Toddler. There are also a few stray animals that decided to spawn, but those could not be avoided. All in all, don’t worry about this adding tons and tons of NPC’s to your game - I did my best to ensure the hood was empty.

This hood does include custom content. Sorry if you don’t play with it, but there’s just some things that I couldn’t go without. I tried to use only what I felt was necessary to make the hood look and play nicely.

This was built in the Ultimate Collection, so unfortunately I don’t know exactly what is “required”. Recommended at the very least to have NL, H&M, BV, FT, UNI, and AL. 

Custom Content info & Download links/Instructions below the cut :)

UPDATE: You can now download all Downtownies (Except dead Tricou’s) easily to add to this hood! Check out the post and download here!

Custom Content:

Firstly, a HUGE thank you to all of the following CC creators who have so kindly allowed me to include their CC in a single download folder. Below are links to the individual pieces that were used, along with their creators blogs/profiles as well. There are also some important pieces of information and disclaimers about certain sets and defaults below. Please read everything before you bork up your game and blame me. 

Custom Content used in this hood/Credits:

**You do NOT need to download the following items one by one. These are credits. All but ONE of them are included in a single download folder included with both hood versions**

*Those with a * next to their name are Default Replacements.

Pub Bottle Recolors and *Clothing Rack Defaults both by @withlovefromsimtown

Better Nightlife, Tarmac Hood Deco, and Matching Road Floor Tiles by @criquette-was-here

A few recolor sets from @cluedosims AKA @shastakiss

Community Phonebooth by nicvncnt

*Linden Trees, Seasonal AL Pond, Tower of Communism Skybox, and The Emerald City Skyscraper Set all by @lowedeus

Skyfix by @simnopke

Hood Deco Buildings by @dulcinean-alien

Criquette Horizons by @witheredlilies​ and @criquette-was-here​

*Terrain Default Replacement by @dramallamadingdang​

Invisible Driveway Recolor by Roddyalexio

*Invisible Stop Sign Default Replacement by Psychosims

4T2 City Living Murals by @moocha-muses​

Simlish Neon Signs by @polllinationtech​

Some (excluding the DFR) items from the Bespoke Build Set by @honeywell-mts​

Public Bathroom Deco by @nekosayuri​

Vampire Gravestones by @tony-veis​

*Low Poly Tree Defaults and *Edited Defaults of Criquette’s Rural Road by @peppermint-ginger​

I do not claim any of the included CC as my own. If I mistakenly included CC that you created and you do not want it included (Though I contacted those I was unsure about) please immediately reach out to me and I will remove them :)

Additional credit to the amazing and dear Mootilda for this extremely helpful tutorial :,)

Important CC Info:

DISCLAIMER: There are SOME default replacements in this CC folder. They have been marked in a separate folder with “-DFR” in front of their names. If you have your own defaults, simply do NOT add them to your downloads. 

Note about Bespoke Set: This does NOT include all of the items in the Bespoke Build Set. If you already have it, do not add these folders to your game. If you do have it and plan on getting the rest of the pack later on, just delete these two folders and install those from MTS. The items included in this folder are the following:

Windows

Doors

Wall Coverings

Floor Edging

If you do not wish to use the entirety of BBS, then just use the items in the folders I have provided, as these are the ones that are necessary in Downtown :) Thanks again Honeywell!

The Roads that I use in this hood do not have a grass median between the road and sidewalk. The way my DFR’s work is that that space needs to be filled in once the overlays are placed. If you do not use a DFR OR if you use something different, you may have to remove the filled in section. You’ll know what I mean when you load it up. Also, if you don’t use these defaults, there may be random rugs in the road, that is just the game replacing unavailable content.

If you don’t plan on using the Phone Booths that are included, you will want to go back through the lots and add back the EA default phone booths. I am not sure if your sims will be able to get back to their home lot if you don’t download the custom ones, since I deleted the original vanilla booths. 

Excluded CC:

I used these recolors of Numenor’s stairs. You WILL need to download these (be sure to properly download them) as they are NOT included, since Numenor does not allow this.

CC Download Instructions:

CC is included with both versions of the hoods.

Instructions: Download the zip file for the hood version you want, unzip it with your preferred zipping program, and extract the contents into your downloads folder. Don’t forget to check your Default Replacements!

Download Instructions:

Instructions:

If you want the Subhood version - Download the DTWN Subhood zip, unzip with your preferred program, and extract it to the following folder, depending on which version of the game you have:

DELETE THE D001 Folder, or move it to a safe location. This is the original Downtown.

Ultimate Collection:  C:\Program Files (x86)\Origin Games\The Sims 2 Ultimate Collection\Double Deluxe\EP2\TSData\Res\NeighborhoodTemplate

Disk: C:\Program Files\EA GAMES\The Sims 2 Nightlife\TSData\Res\NeighborhoodTemplate

Once this is installed, load up the hood that you wish to add the new Downtown subhood to, and add it as you would with the vanilla Downtown. Note that you will know it’s the right one as the thumbnail will be different.

If you want the Main Hood version - Download the DTWN Main Hood zip, unzip with your preferred program, and extract to the following folder, depending on which version of the game you have:

Ultimate Collection: Documents\EA Games\The Sims™ 2 Ultimate Collection\Neighborhoods

Disk:  Documents\EA Games\The Sims 2\Neighborhoods

Hood Download Links:

*Links include CC

Main Hood

Subhood

If you have trouble downloading, let me know and I’ll throw in an alternate link :)

TOU: I guess I need my own TOU now. Please don’t be an asshole, don’t steal my lots or hood and claim it as your own. Use common sense. I am fine if you renovate one of my renovations and want to post it yourself, just give me credit and link to this original post. Also, do NOT redistribute the cc folder included. This is meant only for Downtown, only saying this as I wish for the creators to get all the credit.

Thank you all once more for your interest in the project! I can’t wait to see what you all do with this! Please feel free to tag me in screenshots, renos of my renos, etc...

Additional thanks to everyone at PleasantSims’ discord for the interest and motivation for this project, especially to Sabrina, Melting Magnetz, Crosimmer, Yeetus, and much more!

Keep an eye out for my next project. Thinking of moving on to Bluewater Village or a Vacation Hood!

Enjoy and have fun :D

- Mike

[egoludes]

let me come home: two.

Summary: After years at a dead-end job shouldering everyone’s expectations for you but your own, you’re finally free to be whoever you want, go wherever you want. That is, until a series of unfortunate events strand you in Amber’s End, where the sheriff – and notoriously unmated pack alpha – decides to take you in.

Pairings: alpha!Steve Rogers x omega!Reader; side alpha!Bucky Barnes x beta!Sam Wilson

Notes: Wowowow - I don’t even want to count how many months it’s been, but we are finally back in business! I can’t thank you all enough for the love you showed on the first chapter of this and I am beyond excited to share this and hear what you think. Big reminder from the last chapter that parts one and two are all about setting the stage for Steve and our lovely reader. So,  this is more or less 5k of more background. But, I really loved introducing Bucky, Sam, and Nat (Bucky especially because he’s going to be huge here!) and hope you enjoy them too. Especially my Heat Wave readers - mechanic!Bucky returns! And I promise parts three and four will be extra juicy to make up for it. Divider credit goes to @writeyourmindaway​!

Chapter warnings: Werewolf AU, A/B/O dynamics, incredibly basic knowledge of cars that is probably incorrect

The drive to Steve’s home is short: five minutes from the diner to the base of a wooded hill, another ten to reach the peak. You follow him up a slanted stretch of road with eyes trained on his tail lights, but there are moments when your gaze strays. Sunset lingers on either side of you, framing the forest in a pretty glow. The blend of deep orange and soft pink is hard to look away from, even when you know you should be focused elsewhere, and you make your way to the top in that dizzying in-between. 

When you finally come to a stop, it’s on a patch of paved road - a welcome change to the gravel before it - in front of a large wooden cabin. Behind you, the town’s spread out in a panorama, spanning for what feels like an eternity. You can see everything from here: the humble spread of Main Street; the blues and greens of the Hummingbird; and finally, the mountains, majestic and steady beyond that.

It’s the perfect place for the pack’s alpha to be and, coincidentally, has been the home of Rogers alphas for three generations now.

That lived in feel is the first thing you notice when you make it inside. The structure is sturdy, hasn’t so much as gnarled over the years. The decor, on the other hand, is dated. Doilies on some surfaces and beer coasters on others, there are hints of Steve and the alphas who came before him throughout. Still, it’s cozy, and you say as much in an appreciative hum as you pull your bag off your shoulder. 

The first floor is all open space, and you can see most of it from your spot in the foyer. It doesn’t take long for Steve to situate you - sitting room, kitchen, bathroom, and master bedroom — before leading you towards the stairs. The walls along the staircase are full of memory; pictures of him and his loved ones that catch your eye as you ascend. You don’t have time to linger now, but make a point to look them over before you go. He’s piqued your interest too much not to be a little nosy.

The second floor, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as wide as the first. There are three doors in the whole hallway, two on either side with the third directly in front of you. He identifies each as the guest room, the storage room, and a study in that order, though he’s careful to call out that no one’s used the study in a long time. 

There’s a story there, you’re sure, but any interest in it leaves when Steve presses the guest bedroom door open. The bed inside is too big for the room, one side even touching the walls. And like the rest of the house, it’s decorated in a way that reminds you of your grandmother; a quaintness that’s endearing on a man like Steve. But, as out of place as things might be, there’s an undeniable comfort walking into that room. Steve smiles when he smells it on you -- that cinnamon-sweet rise of contentment as you sink down on the bed at his behest.

“It’s a short tour,” he admits, leaning against the doorjamb, “but this is about it. You’re welcome to anything in the kitchen if you get hungry again tonight or before you go tomorrow. I’m usually up early, so in case I don’t see you, enjoy the rest of your trip. Take care of yourself.” 

It’s new to you, how easily people can offer such genuine acts of care. He hardly knows you, yet there’s no doubt that he means what he says. The thought of it makes you return that thoughtful smile. “Thank you, Steve - you’re seriously a lifesaver.”

With a final smile, he leaves you to it, shutting the door behind him.

At the click, you settle further into the bed, toeing your shoes off and sifting through your bag for house clothes and a towel. Your travels so far have been an adventure, to say the least. Just a few months ago, you’d been working a stressful entry-level job on Wall Street. Pressed skirts, sharp teeth, the days were full of routine, but not the kind that’s pleasant. Everything was uncertainty and fleeting gratification as you competed, day after day, for a seat at the table. 

Add to that the constant nagging from your family to find a mate  — the endless string of blind dates, the passive-aggressive mentions of other friends’ announcements; it’s a wonder you’d endured it all as long as you had.

The decision to quit had been a long time coming. The decision to leave was a whim - the first you’d had in a long time. It was freeing to even be able to make the choice and the lack of commitment only grew more intoxicating from there. You feel freer, less suffocated, and so does your wolf  — it’s a change you’d desperately needed.

That feeling is what follows you into the shower as you wash away the day, and back to bed in your loose pjs. As you settle in, you have to stop yourself from sighing out loud. The mattress is as tender as a cloud, molding to your body at every point, and after weeks of motel beds (and the back of your Jeep), you fall headfirst into that comfort. Sleep comes fast and stays put.

                                                       ----

When you wake in the morning, the world is quiet. It’s a long way from New York’s chaos and you bask in it, eagerly at that. The sun filtering in through the window above you leaves kaleidoscope patterns on the sheets. Your hand moves to trace them for a bit, thumb to fractured color, until you’re awake enough to focus your ear to the house. 

Like outside, Steve’s cabin is tranquil, not even a hint of the alpha’s presence. Given his warning the night before, it isn’t surprising, but you’re still a little disappointed. You’d hoped to repay him for his kindness somehow — maybe with breakfast, or whatever change you could spare. But, you’ll settle for what you can get: you make a mental note to try and catch him at his office before you leave town.

Weeks on the road have made your morning routine as efficient as it gets. So once you’re completely up, you’re out the door not long after, a slice of buttered toast between your teeth to get your system going. You find your car where you left it at the end of Steve’s drive and you approach with a bounce in your step, all thanks to the night of comfortable sleep. 

Maybe you ought to grab Steve a fruit basket before you stop by.

You’re racking your memory of Main Street for bakeries or something close when you settle into the driver’s seat. But, gratitude towards Steve quickly becomes the last thing on your mind when you try to start your Jeep and get nothing but a grinding sound. It isn’t promising, but you try it again, only to get even less response before the car dies altogether. 

You groan out loud, head dropping to the steering wheel while your shoulders sink in defeat. It was inevitable, really - it’s been years since you inherited the car from your older sister and it was only through a slew of band-aid fixes that it made it this far. 

Still, the timing can’t be any worse; you don’t have a schedule to meet, but it isn’t much of a road trip if you can’t make it on the road. You fish your cell out of your jacket pocket, hoping that your service has somehow improved between last night and this morning. But, you only have a couple bars - finicky connection at best - so, you head back into Steve’s home where you’re certain you’d noticed a landline. 

When you find it, you also come across a phone book --- not the newest edition, but recent enough. The list of mechanics in the area isn’t long, so you thumb in the first number you see. The phone rings only twice before someone picks up. 

“Barnes Garage?”

“Hi,” you start, perking up at the quick answer, “I just tried to start my car and it’s not working. It made this weird sound at first, then when I tried again, it just died.”

The man on the other end hums and you can hear paper rustling in the background like he’s taking notes. “Alright, we can send someone out right now to tow you in and take a look - what’s your address?”

“I don’t...actually know,” you admit, face hot from embarrassment when he goes silent. You must sound ridiculous. “I’m not from around here, so I’m just staying with someone. I’m not sure about the address.” 

A chuckle rises from him that eases your shame just a bit. “Alrighty. Well, it’s a small town  — tell me who you’re stayin’ with and I’m sure between the three of us here, we’ll know where to find ‘em.”

There’s a part of you that’s skeptical of that; but for a town so small and a pack so close-knit, maybe it’s possible. “Uh, sure. I stayed with Steve Rogers  — the sheriff?”

The line goes silent again, this time so prolonged you think the call dropped. Then, the mechanic speaks up and you can almost swear he’s smiling. “No shit. I know exactly where that is, I can be there in fifteen? Maybe twenty? That work for you?”

“Well, I won’t be going anywhere, so that works perfectly.”

                                                        ----

The mechanic manages the trip in ten, when you glance out the window at the sound of an engine to see a dark blue tow truck stalking up Steve’s driveway. You come out to greet it just as the man driving climbs out and nearly gasp. He’s as handsome as Steve had been: piercing blue eyes, an angled, stubble-lined face, and deep brown hair gathered at his nape. There’s something familiar about him you can’t seem to place, but it’s out of sight and out of mind when he closes the distance with a wide smile. “Well, hi there -- ‘m Bucky. Spoke to you on the phone.” You give him your name, to which he nods. “So, I’ll get your car down to the shop and we’ll take a look, see if we can’t fix you up today. You wanna come with me, or you staying at Stevi -- uh, Steve’s for the day?”

You shake your head . “Nah, I can come with - I was planning to head out of town today anyway, so I’m hoping I can just head out from your garage.”

“Hop on in then.”

The ride with Bucky is surprisingly warm. He’s not exactly talkative, but he’s engaging; asking questions where he needs to, humming out his interest when he doesn’t. You get so settled into the flow of quiet radio and chatter that you don’t realize you’ve made it to his shop until the truck comes to a full stop. 

Barnes Garage sits at the corner of some of Amber’s End’s quieter streets. The large lot outside has a few cars parked with a path between them for new ones to be driven into the workshop. Bucky’s pulled your Jeep right into that path, though he’s stopped halfway between the curb and the garage building. “It’ll take me maybe a half hour to really dig in --- you can stick around or explore, it’s up to you, but I’ll let you out here.”

You climb out with a nod, thanking him before nodding towards the streets behind you. “I’ll probably head out - grab a few more things before I go. See you in thirty?” 

For the second time in as many days, you’re exploring Main Street, this time with an eye out for the stores you didn’t visit the day before. There aren’t many, to be frank, so after the first few, you take to stopping in on some of the people you’ve met already. They seem surprised to see you again, but take advantage of your presence to tell you more about themselves, the town, their wares. 

You realize quickly that none of the stories about Amber’s End really do it justice. It’s quainter than what you’re used to, sure, but there’s so much history there. It’s romantic almost - like the first turn of an old book or light filtering into a tea shop. 

You think you’ll miss it when you leave, even if just for a little while.

When you get back to the shop, you’re a few souvenirs richer and have something nice to give Steve on your way out of town as well. Bucky is sitting at a computer - the model recognizably old but reliable like the rest of the town. He perks up at the sight of you, already waving before you make it all the way in the door and pull your scarf from around your face. “So,” he starts, walking to your car with a hand under his chin. “I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.”

You grimace. “Ok --- good news first.”

“Well, I know what’s wrong with the car. The starter motor,” he taps a finger on the hood over the spot where the part lives, “is out. Completely done. But, we can get a part delivered here to get you back on the road.”

“Okay,” you eye him suspiciously. “Then, what’s the bad news?”

“Lookin’ at the places we get our parts from, they’re all outta stock for the model you’ve got. The soonest the part could be here is in a month, and even that might be generous with all the storms lately.” As if pre-empting your shock, he hands over an invoice to confirm it.

Seeing it written out, plain as day, makes you grimace. Staying anywhere for a whole month (or more) had never been in the cards; but, there’s no way you can afford a new car either - you were just barely making it through with the money you’ve budgeted as is. You take a long, hard look at the estimate Bucky’s handed you before taking a deep breath to gather your thoughts. “Okay,” you start slowly, “so how does this work? If I decide to wait for the part.”

He gestures to the door behind you that leads to the lot from earlier. “We have a reserve lot - it’s where we keep all the cars that are waiting on a part for service. I’d keep your car here - free of charge - until the part comes, then we fix ‘er up. You’d pay for the part now and the fix later, when we call you to make sure it all looks good.”

You nod, glancing up from the sheet briefly before looking back at the part expense. It isn’t bad in the grand scheme of things - certainly cheaper than a used car that’ll just give up on you in a few months anyway. But, it will be a good chunk of what you’d set aside for your trip and if you’re staying put for the month, there’s no way you can afford to do it without really settling in. Job and all. “Okay - let’s do it.”

“Sounds good.” Bucky’s eyes are full of sympathy as he watches you; from what little you’d told him in the ride over, being stuck in one place is the last thing you wanted right now. “You want me to get you to Steve? He’ll have some good ideas for what you can do next.”

The nervous knots that’ve been building since the conversation started uncoil some at the mention of the other Alpha, though you try your best to ignore it with another nod to Bucky. “That would be great.”

                                                       ----

The sheriff’s station is small but busy when you walk in. Bucky trails ahead of you, walking with purpose that surprises you. At first, you chalk it up to the town being so small  — maybe there’s an open door policy for the residents. But, then you notice the way deputies and junior deputies let him by without even batting an eye. The ones who do simply nod, offering a smile while Bucky walks right past them and reception into Steve’s open office door. 

“Buck?” You can hear ahead of him. “What are you doing here..?” It dawns on you then that they must know each other; intimately, judging by the nickname and the pure ease that Bucky has as he maneuvers the station.

You hesitate to interrupt their moment, but Bucky’s response to Steve’s question is to angle himself so you can be seen from behind him. That’s when Steve notices you and you wave with a sheepish smile. “He brought me, actually - my car’s broken down and I don’t think I’ll be able to leave for a bit. I wanted to make sure you knew before you came home and found me still there…”

Your presence brings Steve to his feet and you notice that he’s in his sheriff’s uniform for the first time. Somehow, he seems more comfortable in it than the casual wear you’ve seen him in so far, but there’s no denying that he looks just as good. “Hey -- you don’t have to worry about that, I wouldn’t just kick you out. I’m sorry to hear about the car, though - anything I can do to help?” 

“Unless there’s a way the local sheriff’s office can put a little muscle on an auto-parts dealer,” you tease, drawing a snort from Bucky beside you, “I think I’m okay. I’m hoping we can talk more about where I should stay when you get back, though?” 

“Sounds good to me.”

With your big news out in the open, you turn on your heel to leave, but pause as another thought strikes you. “Actually, one thing I could use some help with: know of anyone hiring?”

Steve’s face turns pensively and you can see his mind working for an answer. “Not that I can think of, no…,” he offers, a little remorse in his tone, “but you know what? Most places are willin’ if you know who to talk to. How about Bucky take you around? See what you find?”

After giving his instructions to a suspiciously enthusiastic Bucky, Steve turns his attention back to you. You expect to see pity, but there’s nothing there but genuine concern. You feel a little warmth from it, like you’re protected just by standing in front of him, and wonder if this is how everyone in his pack must feel. “I’ll be back late today, so you can feel free to eat without me. Bucky will take care of you until then and help you talk to some folks about a job. You call me if you need me.” He brandishes a business card from a holder on his desk and pencils his cell number on the back before handing it over. “If you’re still awake when I get in, we can talk about your living situation. Otherwise, settle in for one more night and we’ll talk in the morning.”

                                                       ----

Over the rest of the day, Bucky takes you to a few shops with vacancies: pharmacy, market, the doctor’s office. Nothing seems to strike a chord for you, though, and you start to grow dejected, anticipating yet another job you have to work  out of necessity.

Then, Bucky pulls into the gravel lot of a tavern.

Widow’s Den is the name carved in large wooden blocks over the front door, and despite the afternoon hour, there are a few cars parked in front of it. When you duck inside, a group of older men and women sit, talking over beers.

A tall, broad man is working the bar, his laughter booming over a pop song you haven’t heard in years. Beside you, Bucky beams, scent thickening at the sight, and you realize quickly that this must be the person behind the ring on his left hand and the soft pink mark on the right side of his neck. His mate. It’s adorable to see — this charismatic alpha unraveled at one glimpse of the man he loves. 

“Babe,” Bucky chimes for the bartender’s attention as you approach the bartop. Not that he needs to, though; it’s obvious in the way his scent spikes that he’s long since noticed Bucky’s presence and you nearly coo at that too. “Nat in the back?”

“Yeah,” he responds, not looking your way yet as he finishes pouring a drink. “Doing inventory, I think.” Once the drink’s delivered, he offers his full attention and that’s when he notices you. “Who’s this?”

Bucky grins, smile taking on a boyish quality as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “New girl, looking for a job. Her car’s in the shop with me now, so she’s staying with our lovely sheriff until it gets fixed up.” 

The bartender’s intrigue is immediate, eyes widening before he grins slyly — as if privy to a secret you’re not — and folds arms over his chest. The pose accentuates the corded muscle along his arms and chest and you have to stop yourself from sighing. Is there anyone in this town that isn’t woefully in shape? “You’re kiddin'. With Steve?” You have more questions than you know what to do with, but there’s no time to think about asking one when his hand is thrust your way. “Well, then, nice to meet you, girlie. I’m Sam.” 

The smile he offers you is welcoming, and you forget about the odd focus on your staying with Steve (it isn’t even official yet!) to accept his hand. When you share your name in return, the smile widens and he tips his head towards the stretch of hallway by the other end of the bar. “Head on back to talk to Nat -- Bucky can show you the way.”

The brunet rests a hand to your back, pausing only to give Sam a quick kiss over the bar before he takes you towards the back hallway. The vibe in this half of the building is noticeably different. Homey, like the staircase at Steve’s cabin. You recognize many of the same faces in these pictures as the ones back at Steve’s. Bucky’s against Sam’s shoulder, Steve head and shoulders over the rest. There are a few where he’s even bare faced, looking eons younger than he does now, but not a smidgen less intense, and you work out easily that they’ve all been friends for some time, maybe even since puphood.

It’s admirable to you, maybe even enviable too. You have friends from that age as well, but the unforgiving pace of city life had made it hard to stay close. The smiles in the bar’s pictures, in comparison, speak to nothing but growing bonds, year after year.

You can’t help but smile too.

“This way.” Bucky’s voice brings you out of your thoughts and into a half-cracked doorway. The room is cluttered, stacked with boxes and bottles. And in the center of the chaos is a woman with striking red hair, pulled up and out of her face. Her aura holds a candle to Steve’s; far-reaching, imposing, and immediate. There’s no mistaking her as anything but an Alpha, and when her eyes leave the clipboard she’s holding to focus on you instead, you struggle against the instinctive need to bow into yourself. But, years of Wall Street’s brutal pace (that cares very little for rank) steel you. You see something akin to amusement flash in her eyes when you meet her gaze head-on.

“What did I tell you about bringing in strays, James?” Her tone is level, but the words have no real bite. You look up at Bucky warily still, who reassures you with a little smile.

“This one’s not a stray --- not really, anyway.” He loops an arm around your shoulder again and you can tell the familiarity intrigues Nat. “She’s new in town - staying for a month or two until I can get her car squared up, so we’re hopin’ to find her a place to work.”

“Just a couple? That’s not a long time --- I mean, by the time you get settled in, you’re gonna be out of here.” A valid concern; one that the other shop owners had shared when Bucky told them your predicament. There isn’t much you can say to ease the worry, but it turns out you don’t have to. Nat turns the rest of the way to set her scrutinizing gaze on you properly and the look compels you to stay put; almost as if you’re presenting yourself to her. A stretch of silence sets in and the longer it goes, the more convinced you are that she’s about to reject you outright. Then, she clicks her tongue. “Hm. We don’t need much right now, but I could throw you a couple bucks if you want to help us bus tables or something. This is the only spot to really drink in town, so we could always use the help on busy nights.”

You’re so relieved you could kiss her, but you don’t need superhuman instinct to know that would not go well. You settle instead for a wide smile, the sort that’s contagious to the Alphas in the room who start beaming with you. “That would work for me!”

“Good,” she grins, setting her clipboard aside to cross her arms, “now to celebrate our new arrival.”

                                                       ----

You spend the rest of the day at Widow’s Den, getting to know Sam, Bucky, and Natasha over glasses of their best liquor. They confirm your suspicion that they’ve known each other for some time: Steve and Bucky are lifelong friends, brought together by a schoolyard fight started by a Steve who wasn’t even half the other boys’ heights. Meanwhile, Sam and Natasha came into the fray during high school years, transfers from their deep South and Russian hometowns respectively. But, they folded into the fabric of the boyhood duo easily and had been a foursome ever since.

You still don’t know where Sam and Bucky’s relationship turned romantic, but there’s an ease there that makes you guess it has been a while. Natasha, like you, is unmarked, but it’s rare for Alphas to do that anyway. You’re curious to learn more about her in particular. 

As time moves on, the bar fills more and more and you get a glimpse of what your life will be like for the next few weeks. The crowd is certainly diverse - people of all ages filing in with friends or on their own. In an odd way, there’s two bars existing in one - young and old, energetic chatter and introspective talk. 

By the time you leave, you’re a little tipsy and Bucky guides you out with a hand on your back. So far, you haven’t come across any other omega in their circle, and you wonder if his constant touch is a result of that instinct to protect you. The conversation on the ride back to Steve’s flows more freely now that you’ve spent so much time together and when he drops you off, he surprises you with an offer for a hug. When he glimpses that surprise, he laughs. “None of that now - you’ll be seeing a lot of me from now on, so we’re friends, sweetheart.” 

You laugh and step into his arms - you suppose he’s right.

                                                       ----

It’s near one in the morning when Steve finally comes home. His midnight patrol had been as uneventful as usual ---- a blessing, he thinks, considering how distracted he’d been during the run. His wolf is restless, agitated by the thought of this new omega being around longer than expected. He found his thoughts trailing to her during his time in the woods, particularly as he passed the quarry he’d found her in, and there was an eagerness to find out how the rest of the day with Bucky had gone.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous. His friend, dear as he is, can be a handful, even for him. 

When he comes in, he’s shocked to find you still awake in the living room, a mug of what smells like herbal tea in your hand as you flip through a book from his shelf. You look up at him from the book, a dopey smile to your face, and that’s when the other, underlying smell on you hits. Alcohol --- something woody that’s familiar. He guesses Bucky must’ve taken you to Widow’s Den, which would explain why you’re still up at this time.

“Hey,” he speaks up, nodding at you, “couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head, book forgotten as you cradle your tea with your other hand. “It’s been a busy night - still a bit wired!” 

Fair, he thinks. “Tell me about it - did it go well with Buck?”

You start to ramble about the day - the places you tried, the time at Widow’s Den, the offer from Nat you ultimately accepted. He tries not to tense too visibly, but he can’t hide the way his scent sharpens the way it often does when an Alpha is on edge. He can see the impact it has on you instantly; the way your excitement slows and your eyes dart to try and pick out what caused it.

He reassures you - or does his best to - with a smile, urging you on. He won’t explain this yet, but the crowd at Widow’s Den can be rowdy when they want to be, especially when they’re from out of town. Nat and Sam will show you the ropes --- and step in where they have to --- so you’ll be in good hands; but he wouldn’t be Steve if he didn’t worry. You’re the newest wolf in town now --- a part of his pack, even if just for a short while.

When you’re done recapping the day, his smile grows, the gesture deliberately wide to make up for his worry catching you off-guard. “Well, I’m glad to hear it went well - Nat and Sam are good people, they’ll take care of you.”

“I believe it.” You pause, running a finger along the rim of your mug. “Which reminds me, I… I don’t have to stay here. Once I start working, I think I’ll be able to check in at the Hummingbird, see if that room’s opened up.”

Steve gives you the same stern look from the diner and you almost giggle at the sight. It’s hard to see the same intimidating alpha now that you’ve heard a little about him from his friends.  “Come on - what kind of pack leader would I be if I kicked you out now?” He stands from the couch, eyes -- and stomach -- starting to turn towards the kitchen. “I won’t stop you if you prefer the motel, of course,  but the offer to stay here will be open until your car’s ready to go.” 

“Are you sure...?”

His stern face softens, giving way to another smile. “Positive - don’t worry about it, okay?” 

After the last twenty four hours, it’s hard to doubt his capacity for kindness, but reassurance is always appreciated. You thank him one last time as he stalks into the kitchen, wishing you a good night, and when your tea is finished, you pad up to the guest bedroom with your chest feeling as warm as your tummy. 

As you finally doze, it’s with a head full of excitement; like a kid the night before a field trip. You didn’t expect it, sure, but you’re ready, anticipant, for the start of your life for the next two months.

[tanglednlove]

Rapunzel's Pink Dress

I want to ramble about Rapunzel's dresses and why I love her final dress so much.

Rapunzel's pink dress was based off her wedding dress. Practically the exact same except for the color changes and different design on the bodice. At one point, Tangled was to end with the wedding of Rapunzel and Eugene. Luckily, the ending was changed, Rapunzel got this beautiful dress and the cute Tangled Ever After short was made.

Now to compare to her regular dress or tower dress.

The fitting of this dress seems a bit incommodious. The top and sleeves appear a bit tight and the overall length short. Rapunzel definitely has no trouble stretching, running, racing, dancing or chasing in it so my observation seems wrong. But, there are little hints that still make it plausible.

During Mother Knows Best, Mother Gothel maliciously sings 'sloppy, underdressed'....gettin' kinda chubby'. Gothel's way of keeping her 'precious flower' safe and sound while endlessly gaslighting poor Rapunzel.

When Gothel sings 'sloppy' the mirror reflects a full length view of Rapunzel. Then she pushes it down towards Rapunzel's exposed feet for the word 'underdressed.' Rapunzel reacts by bending down to cover her feet. Bare feet are definitely not appropriate for the outside world, according to Gothel.

Gothel's choice of words and mirror positioning, seem to indicate that Rapunzel is only allowed one dress until she completely outgrows it.

Honestly, it would not surprise me if Gothel had a one dress per next major growth spurt rule. Especially since she has never even changed her own dress. And, the dress Rapunzel makes for Pascal appears to be from the scraps leftover from making her current dress.

Gothel then goes on to insult Rapunzel's weight by singing 'getin' kinda chubby'. Rapunzel appears healthy with an appropriate weight. What actually seems to be happening is the dress is gettin' kinda too tight. Girls can stop growing in height around age 14. I do not think she has had it since age 14 but age 16 may be more likely. Also, breast development can end by age 18 but could continue until the early twenties. This dress appears a bit tight in that area. (Most likely not intended, but this is like a callback to Grimms' Rapunzel. In one version Rapunzel mentions her dress is tighter, but that was due to being pregnant.)

There are no patches on Rapunzel's dress. Which a few rips or tears may be expected if she has worn it for a while. In Mother Knows Best, Gothel sings Rapunzel is 'clumsy'. But, this is after she pulls the rug out from under her and makes her trip and fall down. I do not think Rapunzel is clumsy at all, hence no rips. Also, she can paint a lot without ever getting a speck of paint on her. In fact, to 'pull the rug out from under someone' means to abruptly withdraw support. There was never any support from Gothel to withdrawal but the saying still fits. Gothel would definitely take everything away from Rapuuzel for disobeying and she does just that in the end when she chains and gags her.

The whole point of Mother Knows Best was to destroy the slightest ray of sunshine in Rapunzel's confidence toward leaving the tower. A cruel yet effective way to do this is to pick out insecurities. Being sloppy, underdressed and kinda chubby would give Gothel great anxiety. Rapunzel is not shown to be vain at all. But, Gothel is trying desperately to keep Rapunzel in the tower and using any manipulating tactics necessary.

Gothel may have asked Rapunzel what colors and fabric she wanted to make this dress. And, Rapunzel most likely did all the sewing so I like to think it does represent some of her own preferences. Maybe the dress does not extend to the floor so she can easily perform her chores, hang from the ceiling, and see her feet so she does not trip on her hair. Maybe she wanted sleeves because the tower gets a little cool in the mornings. She definitely likes shades of purple, even her pink dress has lavender in the color scheme.

Quick side about the color of the tower dress. The dress and Rapunzel's golden hair represent the Corona flag- purple and yellow. But, the true color of the skirt is fandango which is a magenta-pink. Magenta falls in the purple shades as purplish-red. So, the overall color is in the purple category. While it does appear true plain purple in some light, it actually is the fandango color. The inner skirt part does appear to be true purple though.

Now I will gush about the pink dress! I do adore her tower dress, it is very beautiful. But, the pink dress completely wins me over. Best. Dress. Ever!

The one stark difference from the tower dress and her final pink dress is the corset placement. The bodice on her tower dress has the corset in the front. While the pink dress has the corset in the back. To me, this has always been an awesome metaphor. There are no sleeves on the pink dress either but the placement of the corset seems more meaningful.

As for the sleeves, I think it may just be a matter of aesthetic. Rapunzel's mother, the Queen, does wear sleeves. They look beautiful and seem to complete her look. Both of her beginning and ending dresses have sleeves. Her final dress also appears to be the same one in Tangled Ever After. Rapunzel is the princess and a sleeveless dress is a bit more youthful looking compared to her mother's. Also, the Queen has opaque sleeves while Rapunzel's were sheer. This could extend to the differences in their crowns. The Queen's crown is bigger and more grand. Rapunzel's crown has more jewels and is dainty. Although those three teardrop, or sundrop, diamonds are respectfully big and beautiful.

Back to corsets. Let me say, dresses with corsets are beautiful. They add a neat structure and design to a dress. Though Tangled is never given an exact time period, some of the concept art had 1800s written on them. So thereabouts, corset dresses were in vogue. And yes, the corset can be positioned front or back. Specifically for Rapunzel though, I find meaning on where it is placed.

Also, if she was only allowed one dress per major growth spurt, then a corset makes sense because of the adjustability.

When Rapunzel turns around at the end of Tangled and the audience can see the back of her dress, I had a moment. Rapunzel being 'tied up' and 'trapped' is now 'behind' her. She no longer has to live in fear and she can finally experience life outside the tower.

Just look at the wide and spaced ribbon on this corset. Looks comfortable and not pulled tight. In contrast, the strings on her tower dress were pulled tight to a bow at the top with big loops. Typically a tie with big loops means the strings were tied as comfortably tight as possible while there is extra string for some give. Which I still think is to accommodate her growing into a full adult body.

The back of her tower dress had a line of buttons. She was tied and buttoned into that dress. Just like the way Gothel had her locked and prisoned in the tower. No buttons on her pink dress. Just a comfortable corset and a beautiful pattern on the front. Also, appropriate structure all around.

That is it, that is why I love her pink dress so much! It represents her freedom💖 A full length shot of this dress is never shown in the movie. I like to think it either stopped at her ankles or just brushed the tops of her feet. Her wedding dress seemed to just barely brush the floor. Either way, she probably liked her feet showing or least nothing in their way.

End of rambling, yay...oh wait, then the Series happened.

When I first saw Rapunzel in her Series dress, I was disappointed. Being tied up is no longer 'in front' of her, she is free! Why put the bindings in the front again? Well, Tangled Before Ever After and the whole first season made it clear she still did not feel completely free. She was not ready to marry Eugene or become a full time princess. She needed adventure and she got it.

This dress also has sleeves which look like they were meant to be opaque. Several of the dresses she wears in the show have sleeves. I do think Rapunzel wearing sleeves as acting queen in the third season was appropriate. As mentioned, sleeves may be a queen aesthetic. Her coronation dress also had sleeves. I think her green island dress, with no sleeves and sitting just off shoulder was the best dress from the show. Especially since many concept art pieces for Tangled show her in a green dress.

Oh, the concept art of all the different green dresses. So beautiful yet neglected.

So, her standard Series dress gets a pass with one exception. In the very last scene of the entire show she still is wearing it! Maybe it was animation budget and they simply could not add in a new dress design but what a crime that was! She needed to be in her pink dress or either a similar design.

Anyway, I still love her pink dress the best because of what I think it represents. 💖💚

Bonus: This is her picture hanging in the Princess Fairytale Hall at Walt Disney World.

I would love to see her face character wearing this! It would even look lovely with the flower braid. This dress deserves so much more love, admiration and promotion. Honestly, her tower dress has been lumped in the princess rags or commoner look category before. So, why not put her in this beautiful, lovely pink princess dress? And look! She has her bare foot sticking out!💖

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

We meet Lucy, we meet Samantha and her twins & Mother Nature gets a little bit mad. But on the upside - she loves Tony :)

Kind reminder that this story will have horror/thriller elements & graphic descriptions of blood, gore and all the nasty stuff associated with superhero battles described in some detail. This chapter contains some of that.

Honestly, this story is getting- uhh- 8-12 notes on Tumblr. It's got a decent following on AO3 which brings me joy because I truly do enjoy the worldbuilding to a, perhaps, guilty amount. So if you like it too - please reblog :)

The fabric of my skirt was suddenly yanked and I jumped, dropping my phone and startling out of my daze. Two big, blue eyes stared up at me, curiousity mixed with impatience in them. I crouched down to pick up my device, coming face to face with a tiny blonde girl about nine or ten years of age.

"Lucy, hi!" I squeezed out a smile at the child. She looked pale, as if she'd never seen the slightest bit of sunlight, chubby cheeks contrasted by an overall spindliness of her body. Her dress was a puffy, long-sleeved, red and white polka dotted monstrosity with at least two petticoats that made her seem bigger than she actually was. "Sorry, didn't see you there. Long day at work," despite there being a worm of anxiety crawling deeply in my chest, I heeded the warnings on the list of rules and swallowed any unease I had.

Which was a hard feat. The stairs had gotten confused and I lost ten minutes of time going back, over and over, after encountering floors "5", "8" and "19" instead of my third floor, in a five story building. The building providing extra floors shouldn't have surprised me that much but the worst was fighting with the desire to explore them, my rational brain unhelpfully supplying that if this building was truly dangerous, nobody would be living in it.

The pull was almost unnatural in its strength yet my protection charms remained unaffected. Too tired from returning to work, I decided to distract myself with my phone - and nearly ran poor little Lucy off her feet.

"You are new," she signed to me slowly, carefully observing my reaction to her using ASL.

I had been truly unsettled by the rule list, perhaps more than I wanted to admit to myself, so I spent a night wide awake brushing up my meager sign language skills. "Yes, my name is Star," I replied, not quite sure if I wanted to shake her hand or simply make myself scarce as soon as possible.

Lucy gave me a closed-lipped grin, swooshing her puffy skirts in what I perceived to be a calculated amount of shyness. "Can I play with you, please?" Her hands moved a little more rapidly as she side-eyed my apartment door.

I briefly ran a mental checklist of the contents of my fridge. "Sure," I figured that two leftover steaks in it would be more than enough for the little girl. I'd splurged and gotten four prime pieces of meat to treat myself after a hectic moving process, cooking only half of them on the first day. "Come on it. You hungry?"

The door swung open as I led Lucy in, her bright dress and pale skin standing out in the twilight of my apartment. She nodded her head seriously, looking at me from head to toe as shivers ran up and down my spine. My bag was unceremoniously dumped on the couch, my socked feet shuffling into the kitchen and beelining for the fridge.

Lucy followed me quietly, taking a seat at the dinner table and folding her thin arms atop it, expectant blue eyes following my every move. As I plated the meat and reached for the roll of paper towels, I felt like I was being examined under a microscope. Somewhere in the distance, a quiet hissing noise was beginning to rise.

Lucy politely declined the fork and knife I attempted to give her so I just set down the plate in front of her, leaving the kitchen to change out of my dusty, sweaty clothes, too tired to really worry about the loud, sloppy and wet chewing noises and low growling coming from the dining area. I decided as long as she wasn't attempting to have me for dinner, I was going to be just fine.

I found Lucy on the carpet of my living room, flipping through a fashion magazine she'd found somewhere after I was done with scavenging some sweatpants from my mostly-unpacked closet. Her blonde curls bounced as she looked up at me with another tight smile, this time looking calmer, friendlier somehow. "I like those dresses," she signed, pointing at a few pictures with models wearing ballroom gowns in all kinds of colours. "And these..." She pointed out a tiara, probably not knowing how to sign the words.

"This is a tiara," I spoke slowly, signing the last word with my hands carefully as she observed. And then a few more times, until she repeated her last sentence perfectly. "Good job, Lucy," I praised her as she beamed at me. The river of quiet, scratchy giggles never stopped as she pointed out various things and I tried to sign them to the best of my ability, Lucy not showing any signs of upset whatsoever if I couldn't get the name for something right.

After some time, it was beginning to get very dark outside and a couple of pointed glances at the clock was all it took for her to stand up and carefully dust off her skirts. "Thank you for playing with me, Star," Lucy signed excitedly. "I like you. Do you want to know a secret?" She leaned in conspirationally, bursting into my space bubble with a lack of care only a child could posess.

I nodded, not trusting my mouth whatsoever. The closer she leaned in, the more overwhelming her smell became. Her pretty dress reeked of mildew and stale water, her breath - of dried blood and something earthen, like moist soil and cold cobblestone.

Lucy's eyes widened dramatically. "If you need answers, go on to the seventh floor. Bring some warm milk and cookies, they won't bother you too much, but be careful and don't stay for too long. You look tasty," I struggled to keep up with her rapid signing, my eyes firmly trained on her. Lucy's hand carefully patted my cheek and in my frozen state, I could only wave back as she skipped to the door and unlocked it, giving me one of her closed-lipped smiles before disappearing behind it without a noise.

The lock slid shut on it's own after the girl's departure. My heart briefly jumped up into my throat, trapping my jerky inhale in-between my throat and my esophagus. Coughing, I went on to double check the door lock before scrambling for the TV remote to add some background noise to the suddenly eerily quiet apartment.

The sit-com that popped up wasn't any of the ones I knew so I sat helplessly watching unfamiliar people get themselves into more and more absurd situations as the grating noise of pre-recorded audience laughter mocked the characters actions. A sudden shriek pierced the late night stillness, followed by a sound of breaking dishes and a woman's voice tiredly chastising the miscreants.

Samantha.

I'd seen her a few times as she smoked her strong cigarettes in front of the entrance, her twins running in circles around the large pothole in the middle of the driveway. She'd been friendly enough, the dark circles under her eyes and the unkempt state of her clothes telling me more than her words, "I love them, I really do. But I just want some sleep," she rasped as she sighed and attempted to gather her two kids.

I didn't examine them too closely but on first moment's notice their eyes and teeth appeared... Wrong. Samantha had taken them inside after that, clutching a coffee thermos of a size truly impressive, and I went on my merry way, trying not to think too much of the poor, single mother and her two mutant kids. I felt a little proud, even, as she didn't just abandon them like many other people did after discovering their children had an active X-gene.

It didn't take me long to cave in and offer my help with watching the twins, Anya and Arman; one noisy weekend bled into the next and I began to genuinely feel bad for the overtired woman. Inviting the two terrors into my apartment was a choice I had made mindfully: having asked Odette about advice on hyperactive children, she had proposed a puzzle or two.

The thrifted, wooden items weren't able to hold the twins' attention for long, and Anya was the first one to begin gnawing at the hard blocks, covering the area around her in splinters. Arman was a quiet boy compared to his sister: he'd stare at the TV or at the walls, avoiding eye contact and conversation at great lengths.

My couch was jumped on, my dishes were taken out and my houseplants rearranged chaotically; it was almost as if they purposefully tried to get a rise out of me without doing any actual damage. I spent the remaining few hours of my Sunday putting things back in their places - all that pent up frustration had done wonders for the state of my apartment; it sparkled, looking cleaner than the day I moved in.

The babysitting became a somewhat regular occurrence, more often than not with me popping in for a couple of hours so Samantha could run some errands and the odd weekend when the twins came over to me so Sam could get some much-needed sleep.

She was a kind, gentle if chronically overworked woman. We clicked pretty quickly over our shared desire for comfortable stability and some fucking peace; neither I nor she had it in sights for the foreseeable future. Sam's reaction to me being a witch was a shrug and a top up to her wine glass as she pointedly looked at her daughter who was busy chewing on a door handle, leaving small, jagged marks all over the dull metal.

I just had gotten sorted with a bunch of complicated orders when the radio interrupted Eric Clapton with an emergency message and instructions to steer clear of the next few blocks over. Something had hit NYC again and Avengers had been called but nobody knew exactly what it was or when it was going to be dealt with.

As soon as I shot a text to Sam, explaining the situation, I immediately retreated to the back rooms, setting up my healing station over the noise of Odette preparing her office for visitors. For some time, I waited with baited breath, jumping at every little noise coming from the outside. The people tickled in slowly, mostly one by one and all were covered in foul-smelling sludge that evaporated with a loud hiss when the concentrated light of the UV lamp in my office touched it.

"Some kind of aliens, I think," a man with a face somewhere between a human and a hedgehog told me, wincing as he retracted his spikes back into his skin. "There's a hole- a portal, right on a crossroads and there's these things coming out. They kinda look like dragons, or flying snakes maybe," the more light breached the surface of his skin, the more relaxed he became. "The Sorcerer and the Witch are trying to close the portal, unsuccessfully might I add, and the muscle is just," he paused, scratching his chin. "Just killin' 'em, I guess."

I nodded enthusiastically, prompting him to continue to rely the state of the affairs as I applied the thick, viscous ointment on a gash on his leg. "It's hammer and Frisbee time," I mumbled to myself sarcastically.

"Yep," the man popped the 'p'. "Most of us are trying to keep the creatures contained to that one block. I saw Iron Man blasting off some of the creatures off of some of my friends," the last sentence contained a great deal of puzzlement. "Though you won't be seeing much of us this time. These things... They're vicious. They've got claws the size of my foot. A lot of us are going to die where they gut us," the sentence was spoken so matter-of-factly, my hands paused on the man's leg, bringing my eyes to his unblinking dots of black.

"What do you mean?" I swallowed in an attempt to chase away the dry, rough feeling in my throat.

"Those beasts... They're smart. One of my friends - she's a... Telepath of sorts... Says they're an intelligent hivemind," the man's broad, warm palm closed over mine. "The beasts leave only the ones that won't get help in time. They can smell death from a mile away. That's how they hunt," his voice was gentle, soothing over the sudden ringing of my ears.

"I..." My mind stuttered, a sticky ball of anxiety, fear and sorrow gathering up in my chest. "I'm so sorry. I..."

"We know what we're doing, out there, we know the risks," his smile was tight and full of grief. "You're doing your part here, makin' sure our babies have parents. We're out there makin' sure our streets are safe. Such is life," the grin acceptance in his pitch-black, small eyes set fire to the tension in my chest.

I exploded, inside out. The sudden burst of decisive, clear-headed energy made the objects around me vibrate, metal resonated my sorrow and my determination, the wood heated up with the force of Mother Nature itself responding to an act of cruelty bestowed upon her creations.

As soon as the man's bandage was finished and he headed out, I grabbed my old, ratty backpack, hastily shoving things into it in a semi-organized fashion. Clean linen strips, bandages, some premade elixirs and draughts, a few jars of salves, carefully tucked in-between the cloth. As I knocked on the door of Odette's office to retrieve the last few items I would need for my reckless journey, the door handle turned on its own, letting me observe her tending a woman who's skin was peeled off most of her back.

"Can't you see I'm..." Odette exclaimed, throwing her free hand towards the door, which did not budge. She turned on her heel, eyes widening when she observed my wide, solid stance in the doorway, lips immediately curling into a small grin. "I understand. Take what you need. It's not wise to resist Her call," the words were spoken carefully, as if not to spook me, before Odette resumed her delicate work of putting the injured woman back together.

Without a word, I finished packing and left through the front door, not needing more than my scarf and my light sweater to keep me from the freezing gusts of wind. My very core was the centrefold of an active volcano, bursting with white-hot bursts of energy as I approached the injured people on my way towards the terrible screeching noise.

This far out, most of the injured were able to make it to Odette's or to the other healer, who's name I had found out only then, but they were thankful for the water I offered them. Not once did they question me: my star-patterned scarf, out of all things, had become somewhat of a symbol for me among the different folk. Mutants approached me fearlessly, giving generous updates on the direction of the battle and the hotspots I probably should have avoided.

The louder the screeching noises grew, the more people needed my help. The stops took longer, my painkillers were becoming a short supply, the main relief provided by a couple of mid-range, mid-strength energy manipulating mutants that began to tail me after I offered to patch them up in exchange for help with the injured.

It was as if I instinctually knew where I was most needed, my decisions were seldom my own. Me and the two mutants bid a haste goodbye after loading up their truck with the injured, although deep inside, I knew that the amount of corpses, bloody and messy, littering the streets had begun to get to them. In a normal state of mind, I would not have been able to look at them either: then, each mangled, broken body only added fuel to the fire within me.

As I stepped foot in an intersection where someone had piled up bent and broken cars, the shadow flying over my head shrieked, taking a fluid nose dive towards another, smaller flying figure. I dropped flat on the ground, the contents of my backpack clattering, watching the small figure in the sky blast the beast with an off-blue ray of concentrated energy. As soon as the creature began it's graceless drop, Tony turned around and flew off, looking none worse for wear.

At the very centre of my chest, a faint feeling of fondness and hope blossomed into tiny little flowers that soothed the aching sorrow for the dead. Each warcry of the beasts from another world fed the anger, the anguish Gaia seemed to exhibit at their intrusion; the revolt I felt upon laying my eyes on one of them made me sweat, hands clenching into fists until my skin crawled under my nails.

The last part of me that wanted to pretend I was in control was gone; my soft, untrained body a mere vessel for a force stronger than me, stronger than anything. Noise around me grew in pitch, some of the creatures circling around my hiding spot cluelessly, aimlessly, as if they could not find what they were looking for.

I moved spots in a daring series of runs, bringing me almost to the portal itself, and the hellish lizards dived into my previous sanctuary, shattering the concrete and the wood of the house under the amused black stares of glassless windows.

The realization set it - they could not see me. Or perceive me properly, I deduced, inspecting the creatures for any sort of orifice except for their mouths and finding them to lack eyes and ears.

My own stare fell onto Sorcerer Supreme, floating amongst a variety of moving golden circles; I was close enough to hear him talking in a language I did not know. Wanda was hovering nearby, holding up a wall of red energy, protecting the chanting sorcerer.

A united screech invoked a shiver from every living being within it's reach, the creatures circling the portal for the last time before flying off in haphazard directions as the portal slowly began to close. I was prepared to cheer, yet, something stopped me; not a second later, the circles surrounding Stephen dimmed as the man himself jumped up onto his feet in alarm, screaming something unintelligible at the Scarlet Witch.

The overturned food cart I was hiding behind slowly began to creep towards the portal. A couple of rats, a pigeon - the animals flew in front of my eyes, rapidly, as they struggled against the unseen force. My hands grasped the handlebars of the cart in vain, I struggled against the force, seeing a moment of confusion on Wanda's face as I floated- no, rocketed past her as Stephen's golden magic forcefully pushed her out of the portal's reach.

It's size no bigger than a doorway, the vile thing blew cold, dry air under my sweater, muffling Stephen's cursing as we briefly collided during our violent expulsion into another world.

And then, there was darkness.

Taglist! @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[impala1967dwinchester]

Sam Winchester: it's cold outside

Pairing: Sam W. x Fem!Reader

Pov: Sam

Warnings: Fluff, cuteness, Christmas themes, snowing outside, comfy spots,

Summary: Opening Christmas gifts. AU! Sam and Y/n realize they both got each other the same gifts. They also watch the snowfall. maybe a proposal

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is the second to the last writing challenge I have to complete. I'm so happy and sad that this challenge is almost over.

Square: Fluffy Jumpers

Sam Winchester Master List

Main Master list

Taglist: @sweetdetectivequeen @band--psycho @wonderfulworldofwinchester

The snow outside was starting to cover the porch. it was just barely six am, rolling over I grabbed y/n. she moaned slightly into me as I shifted her into my grasp. Y/n felt so warm around my arms she eventually got comfortable around my grasp.

Seven am the digital clock said, the sun was just baby peeking over the horizon yet. This was the first winter, the first Christmas that Y/n and I would be spending together fully alone. So in technical terms, this is our third Christmas together.

She moaned again as she shifted in my arms the morning sun just not bright enough to fully wake her from her dreams, or even her sleep. slipping from her grasp I snuck from our bed and down stairs.

Having hidden a few presents in the closet away from sneaking eye, such as Y/n. I had noticed the last two years Y/n always no matter what has to sneak a peak.

This year I most definitely did not need y/n snooping around my gifts. Bringing them in from the closet I tried my hardest to place the gifts in empty spots under the Christmas tree.

After doing so, I got to work on breakfast. Seeing as I was the better cook between the two of us. I made hot chocolate and coffee because Y/n was mostly going to sleep till dawn I needed something to wake her up even it was Christmas morning. I turned on Christmas music just something low, but sweet enough to in have in the background.

You know what's funny to me, as a child as kids who believe in a magical person who deliveries present. I remember my older brother Dean beating me at waking up every single Christmas morning. My mother and father would come in hours later and tell us that Santa had come. Dean would beat me down the stairs and always had so much energy, but our parents never seemed against it.

It's funny the little memories you hold on to even twenty-plus years later. The deal between Y/n and I was so. The first year we would visit her family up in Utah and the following year we could visit mine in Kansas.

Eight am and Y/n is still not awake. Alright try for plan two, I walked my way up the stairs with a cup of coffee and a bowl of fruit. nothing too heavy seeing as she is just going to wake up.

Walking in through the open doorway. I was met with a beautiful moment, or whatever you want to call it. Y/n was curled up into my pillow tightly hugging it, the blinds that had been left open the night before for the moon's bright beam to cast in were instead the bright sun casting in. It cascaded over her face, down her arms, beaming down slightly onto the skin on her leg.

I quietly set down her cup of coffee and the bowl of fruit grabbing my phone from the back pocket of my flannel pants. Snapping one or two or maybe five pictures of her. In moments like this, a picture is really worth a thousand words.

Throwing my phone back into my back pocket. I walked over to Y/n quietly and gently tried shaking her awake. "My love wakes up," I spoke gently in her forehead kissing it a few times. "My love it Christmas" She didn't budge her grasp on my fluffy pillow only tightening.

"My love I have coffee for you, and I made breakfast." I tried saying a bit louder and more clear. She moved eventually after I spent ten minutes of my morning caressing her arms, her forehead, and brushing through her hair with my hands.

"My dear, it almost nine in the morning," I said pushing the coffee closer to her on the side table in our bedroom. She moaned and groaned as she shifted and was just barely awake. "Good Morning my love," I said gently as I didn't want to bombard Y/n with too much in the morning.

She stretched and reached towards me. "Mornin' Sammy!" Y/n said. I moved out of her way, she swang her legs over the edge of our bed and set her feet into the slippers.

"Coffee?" I asked her, she hummed in response and took the hot cup out of my hands. Y/n hair was wrapped in these odd color things, but according to Y/n, it was to curl her hair in her sleep especially when her hair was wet.

The odd things that women did for their beauty routines. She sipped at the coffee, her head resting on my shoulder. "It snowed last night baby," I spoke as she got up and walked towards the window.

I could write you a dictionary size book of things that I love about Y/n, and that right there, this moment was another I'd have to add to that book.

Nine am. Y/n in the shower, after finishing her coffee and bringing her hidden gifts out and doing the same as I. I worked on dinner ham, muffins for the hell of it. Things I knew that Y/n had fallen in love with when we visited my parents, and of course there were meals that I wanted to desperately try that we had in Utah with Y/ns family.

Ten am. Y/n was done with her shower and currently finishing up her makeup. I slipped upstairs noticing cozy outfits laid out on our now made bed. One for her and me. I made my way into the bathroom, Y/n wrapped in her towel and applying a bit of everything that was laid out against the shared sink space.

I came in and wrapped my hands around her waist. She leaned her head into my shoulder as I kissed her jawbone and her neck. Whispering into her ear, "Merry Christmas, baby." I said unclasping her from my grip, stripping off my pants and tank top.

The hot water ran down my back as I remembered that today I'm asking Y/n the forever question. Last Christmas I had even asked her father for the mission to marry his daughter. Even if he said no, I'm pretty sure his wife would have smacked him and told me 'yes you may, honey'.

Eleven am. I was finished with my shower, Y/n was done with her light makeup. We were both wearing our matching outfits. We made our way downstairs, y/n slipped her phone from her hand and into mine. "Let's take a few pictures, I want to send a few to our parents, and of course Dean," Y/n said as she began to smile awaiting for me to raise the phone in my hands, and up above us.

She never needed makeup, and I made sure to tell her of that every day, or at least every time I saw her with makeup on. "You look beautiful baby, but you don't need the makeup, because I love you just the way you are. And you, you as your wholesome self in more than enough for me." I said as we looked through the pictures.

Y/n started sending off pictures to people, the cute ones were sent to our parents, the one where we were kissing she posted on one of her social media accounts. The last few ones when we made funny faces she sent to Dean.

If I ever lost her, I think I'd lose my mind. Absolute go crazy, not saying she keeps me from going crazy, she's just the love of my life, and I simply wouldn't know what to do with myself if she was suddenly gone.

Twelve pm. "Come on Sammy! Let's open gifts please!" Y/n says jumping all over the living room. I hummed and sat down on the couch. Y/n pulled a few of my gifts out and grabbed hers. Handing a few small ones and a few bigs ones.

Books, cooking books, a photo album, a few other silly little things, but she still had one box for me. "Here open these honey," I said handing her a few boxes that were wrapped in reindeer wrapping paper. She gushed over the paper and then tore into the gifts.

I too had grabbed her books, a few things from the craft store, and literally anything else she had hinted to during the year. A new necklace because the other was tarnished, a subscription to amazon prime because she has a tendency to buy a lot of things.

She smiled having a few tears in the cusp of her eyes. She rushed up from the floor and jumped into my lap, "Thank you, baby! So much!" I wrapped my hands around her waist to keep her in my lap. She was kissing up a storm on my face, missing either on purpose or accidentally my lips.

We stayed like this for a few moments. Just kissing each other, staying in the moment forever. The kissing wasn't harsh or teeth rode. It was sweet and slow, her lips against mine. Moments like this I memorized her shape and the way her lips tasted against mine.

She rested her head against my chest, and we stayed like this for a few, before she got up and noticed that we both two boxes left. "What do you think we can open them up at the same time?!" So we did, opening them and holding the cute jumpers up in the air at the same time. I could barely see Y/ns eyes over the jumper, then noticed something very cute, and funny.

"Y/n, sweetheart?" I asked she hummed in response. "did.. we got the same gift for each other I think." I said finally I could see Y/n's eyes. She gasped and then giggled. There are other things I'd add to that dictionary, or the book, or whatever.

She giggled and got up running towards the bathroom. "I'm going to go try this on Sammy!"She screamed as she slipped down our hardwood floor and into the bathroom. I went and found the box, the box that had the simple ring it, a set of three diamonds on a gold band.

I heard the clasp of the door open, and then Y/n started talking, on one knee I stayed until Y/n noticed I wasn't answering her back. She looked down at me, then at my hands. Back the jumpers that I was also wearing, "You look cute in your jumper love, so I have a whole speech planned out here. I.. umm... I have spent a large portion of my life loving you from afar, then I got you and I could love you up close you are mine, but I want to be able to wake up next to you forever, I want to continue to make you giggle and laugh, smile at the little things I say to you. I so desperately want to be the father of your kids, have more Christmas like this, so I guess what I'm asking you is simple. Will you Y/n L/n marry me?" I asked her.

No moments of silence she was down on the floor with me, kissing my face repeating 'yes' over and over again. "A hundred times yes, thousand times yes. God, I love you, Winchester. "She said as I slipped the three stones onto her finger.

We kissed again but this just felt different, maybe it was because she wasn't just a girlfriend anymore she is the rest of my life, she's my forever. She is my Mrs. Winchester.

We broke from our kiss, she grabbed her phone and took a picture of course of her hand and then one of us again for the second time. Sending it off yet again. She was happy, and that's all I have ever wanted for her.

Completed on: 05/28/2021

Posted on: 05/28/2021

[xaphrin]

This is way longer than I anticipated, and also I hope you don’t mind it gets a little adult-ish at the end there. 

- - -

Ending up in urgent care at ten in the evening was not where Damian had expected this night to end, but here he was. He perused the eight month-old issue of Golf Digest a third time, looking at the pictures, but not quite reading. He felt uncomfortable and helpless, sitting out here in the waiting room. He’d driven her to the urgent care, but Raven had been too embarrassed to allow him into the examination room, and so he was relegated to this corner of the room, trying not to feel panicked and worried about her. It was just a fall down the stairs, painful and probably mortifying, but nothing life-threatening. But, still… that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to worry about her either. Of course he was going to worry about her.

He leaned back, his head resting against the wall as he stared at the ceiling, and let his mind wander. 

It doesn’t mean that I can’t change my mind in the future.  

His stomach tightened as he thought about what that implied - that Raven might actually like him. Or, was at least learning to tolerate him a bit more. He knew that finding himself even kissing her was a pipe dream, but actually making love to her? Ugh. He’d already had one too many sleepless nights thinking about what he would do to her and with her if he was ever blessed with the opportunity to have Raven in his arms. His tongue wet his lower lip, and he let go of a frustrated sigh, reminding himself that this was just a date. She’d made it perfectly clear that this was nothing more… even if her purse was packed full of condoms.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to calm his breathing. Just because he was eighteen months into his self-imposed dry spell, didn’t mean that he had to start thinking about Raven like he was a horny teenager discovering his dick for the first time. Jeeze. Damian ran his fingers through his hair and looked over towards the examination rooms when his name was politely called from the doorway. 

“Mister Wayne?” 

Raven was hobbling out of the exam room on crutches, her ankle wrapped tightly with a bandage and a new still-healing scrape along her left cheek and over her chin. She met his stare with a frown and then walked over to him, looking more than just sheepish. She looked like she wanted to crawl in a hole and die. 

Damian stood up and walked to where she was. 

The nurse padded up behind her, looking sympathetic. “Luckily, it’s just a sprain. Raven is advised to stay off it for the next few weeks, and only go out if absolutely necessary. She may need some help getting paperwork and classwork if she can’t make it out on campus.” The nurse gave a polite smile, her eyes darting between them as if seeing something Damian didn’t. “And I wanted to make sure she had someone to get her home safe and sound.” 

“I’ll make sure she gets back right away.” Damian gave a polite smile. “Thank you.” 

The nurse nodded and bid them good night before taking another patient back with her. Damian stared down at Raven, but she refused to make eye contact with him. He nodded slowly, his voice sympathetic and soft. “So… I take it our date is officially over?”

Raven groaned and turned away from him, accompanied by the soft click click of her crutches on the linoleum floor. She hobbled towards the exit, ignoring Damian as he caught up with her. 

“I thought your flirting was cute.” Damian smirked, and she glared at him from the corner of her eye, but continued to stay quiet. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, pretending to think. “Admittedly your tumble down the stairs was somewhat left to be desired.”

Her eyes narrowed and she whispered a curse under her breath. “Jerk.”

He just smiled and guided her to the car. “If anything, this will be an interesting first date story to tell our friends.”

Raven’s face paled and she stopped hobbling long enough to turn towards him. “We are never going to speak of this again. And our friends will never know. No one will ever know.” 

Damian opened the car door and helped her inside, putting her crutches in the backseat. “You sure? I think it’s pretty funny. You trying to charm the pants off me, and end up careening down the stairs, barely missing the murky water of the marina.” He walked around the car and slid behind the wheel. “It’s almost like a romantic comedy.”  

“Please. Stop talking. I don’t want to talk about this ever again.” She buried her face in her hands and groaned. “Our first date and instead of making out by the bay, you ended up taking me to urgent care.”

Damian glanced over at her and lifted an eyebrow. “You make it sound like we were going to make out by the bay.” His heart skipped beats, and he swallowed, letting her words ring in his ears. Make out. She wanted to make out with him? His stomach clenched again, and he tried to keep his voice calm. “After you explicitly said you weren’t going to sleep with me?”

“Sleeping with you and making out are two very different things.” She sniffed and glanced away, her lips pursing in annoyance. “Besides…” She shrugged, as if thinking about what she said to him. “You were making me forget why I wasn’t going to make out with you in the first place. You’re unnervingly charming sometimes.” 

Damian’s eyebrows lifted, and he glanced over at her as he pulled the car onto the road. “Is that an offhanded way of saying you were actually enjoying our date?”

She glanced at him before looking out the window again. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Yes. Yes, he would. If she still wanted to make out with him he would pull this car over the side of the road and crawl into the back seat with her. Bury his hands in her hair. Feel her breath against his own lips. Hell, he would do anything she wanted just so he could taste that vanilla chapstick she was always using. His heart twisted his chest and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep his body from reacting to the sudden onslaught of need. She was injured, and he needed to stop acting like a horny idiot. All he had to so, was take her home.  

Raven sighed and rubbed at her cheek. “I just want to go back to the house and pretend this night never happened.” 

Damian nodded and pressed down on the gas, making his way back to her house. The sooner he got her out of the car, the sooner he could turn around and pretend that this night was over, and they could go back to being whatever they were before. Although… he wasn’t sure if that was what he really wanted. After tonight, he realized that he couldn’t keep pretending for much longer. He couldn’t keep making himself believe that he could ignore her or keep her at a distance. Damian wanted Raven in his life, in a way he didn’t want anyone else. He might get hurt, and his heart might shatter into a million pieces, but… he had to at least try. Right?

Damian found himself lost in thought as he pulled up next to her house, the lights turned down dark.  

“Donna and Karen went out to a party, so…” 

Raven’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he glanced over at her. “I’ll help you to your room.”

“Please don’t. I’m already going to die from embarrassment, please don’t add insult to injury.” Raven hobbled out of the car, struggling to pull her crutches out of the backseat as she leaned all her weight on her good ankle. “I’ll be fine. Slow. But fine. So, good night.”

Damian stepped out of the car and watched her with amused fascination. She pulled out the crutches, hobbled up the short walk, and stopped at the porch steps, staring at them as if they were a mountain she was supposed to climb. She stood there for a moment, obviously trying to figure out how to navigate the walk into the house. Honestly. She was so damn stubborn. With an annoyed sigh, he walked up to her, bent down, and hefted Raven over his shoulder, carrying her fireman-style up the porch steps. 

“Put me down!” 

Ignoring Raven’s complaints, he reached into her purse, still packed with condoms, pulled out her keys, and opened the front door. 

“I am serious! I am not going to let you just manhandle me like this, Damian Wayne.” 

Damian just rolled his eyes, but made a note that she wasn’t really struggling against him. Her anger seemed more of an indignant act to save face, and he would let her have that small bit of pride if she needed it. He walked into her house and set her purse on the sofa, before heading upstairs. “Which one is yours?”

“First door on the right.” Raven sighed, obviously defeated. “It’s open.” 

 “Okay.” He opened the door and walked in, suddenly assaulted with how much of her was packed into such a small space. Books lined every wall and were stacked neatly by her bed. Her room was clean and organized, decorated with artistic prints and photos of her friends. His stomach clenched as he took in the scent of her - vanilla and lavender, and he found himself wanting to stay here forever, in this little oasis of her. 

He was hopeless. 

“You can put me down now, Dami.” 

Damian shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and set her down on the bed. With a smirk, he stared down at her. “See? I saved you ten minutes of struggling.” 

Raven gave him a deadpan stare. “How heroic.” Without really thinking, she reached behind her and started to unfasten the dress she was wearing. “Can you grab my t-shirt and leggings on the chair by the door. If I have to spend one more minute in this dress, I swear I’m going to scream.” 

Damian grabbed her clothes and when he turned back around, Raven was sitting in nothing more than a black bra and a pair of lacy underwear. Well, fuck. It felt like he could see miles of creamy skin, her body gently toned from her yoga and pilates classes, and her secrets hidden by only a thin barrier of lace. The soft light from a bedside lamp cast beautiful shadows over her skin, and he watched to trace every single one of them. His mouth watered and he stood there, feeling helpless as he stared at her. Blood rushed between his legs and she found himself desperate to touch.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a girl in her underwear?” Raven grabbed the clothes from his hands, and wiggled into them, giving him a flat stare. “I would have thought with the way girls on campus talk about your-” She paused and pitched her voice high and breathy, fluttering her eyelashes in a tease. “-giant cock that you’ve seen more than your fair share of half-naked girls.” 

Oh. Ouch. Sure, he’d gone through a spell where he had slept with every girl who wanted to find themselves in his bed. But he learned quickly that it wasn’t really about sex. It had never been about the sex. The only thing he really wanted was to drive Raven from his mind, and he thought that if he found the right girl, maybe it would make him forget all about her. Maybe he wouldn’t find himself dreaming about her every night, and watching her from across the room. But, it never worked. And all it had done was hurt him even more. It had been eighteen months since he slept with anyone. Eighteen months since Raven had been at the frat house, and watched the trail of girls come into his room and leave with wistful smiles on their faces. 

He remembered the sharp bite to her voice as she pushed past him to Jaime’s room for her Spanish tutoring. 

Whore. 

“None of them were you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and Damian felt panic claw at his chest. What was it about Raven that made him feel like he was a damned idiot? He needed to learn how to control his thoughts, or he really was going to make himself a fool in front of her. He swallowed and glanced away, pretending to look at one of the prints on the wall. 

“You make it sound like you like me, Dami.” There was a sharpness to her voice, as if she was trying to guard her heart against him. “And we both know-”

“Oh, shut up.” Damian turned and stared at her again, feeling anger rise into his chest before he could stop it. He wanted to fight with her, to try and make her understand what she was saying. Didn’t she realize that he didn’t believe her anymore? “Come on, Raven. We already had this conversation tonight. You want to push at me because it puts distance between us. And, if there’s distance between us, then you don’t have to admit that you had a good time tonight. You wouldn’t have to admit that maybe you kind of like me, and maybe you still want to make out with me.” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe you’re just a little bit jealous of the girls I slept with.” 

Her face burned. “I am not!”

“No?”

“No. I bet I’m not missing a damned thing.” Raven tilted her head up, staring at him from the end of the bed. “I bet you’re a terrible kisser, Damian Wayne.”

His lips tilted to the side. “Are you goading me?” He leaned over her, his hands resting on either side of her hips. “Because if you want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask.”

There was a moment’s pause and she continued to glare at him, a sharp, unspoken retort dancing on her lips. And then everything seemed to slow. 

Raven fisted her hand in the front of his shirt. 

She pulled him forward.

And kissed him. 

Damian groaned and slammed his eyes shut, giving into the sensation of Raven’s lips on his own. He had never allowed himself the luxury of imagining what it would be like kissing Raven, but it surpassed all possible expectations. She was soft and cautious, as if she found herself in a new and unfamiliar situation, and she wasn’t sure what she needed to do next. He’d be more that happy to guide her. His tongue darted out to stroke along the swell of her lower lip, and his fingers curled into her hair, scattering bobby pins over the floor as he dragged her closer. He tasted that sweet flavor of vanilla chapstick, and before he could stop himself, Damian pushed her back against the bed. Raven met his low groan with one of her own, and her hands shot to hair, as if to keep him pinned to her. 

He wasn’t ever going to let go. 

Damian crawled over her, his arms caging her in as he carefully navigated her body, trying to avoid her injured ankle. Her mouth was like fire, burning hot and destroying every good thought in his head with each pass of her lips. He found his fingers trailing over her, unable to tear his touch away from her skin. His palm rested against her collarbone,not daring to let his fingers travel any further south, but with a whine, Raven wrapped her fingers around his wrist and brought his hand to her breast. Damian lost all contact with the real world. 

He cupped her breast through her t-shirt, feeling her nipple tighten under his touch. She arched her back, thrusting her soft breast into his hand as another moan hummed along his lips. She wanted this, and he wanted to give it to her. And then some. Damian teased her nipple, ran his thumb along it, traced it. He let himself learn everything she wanted from this touch alone, reading every sigh and twitch and gasp, until it felt like his head was going to burst.  

Slowly, he kissed down to her ear and nipped at the lobe. “I want to make you come.” 

He felt her stiffen under him, unsure about what he had said, and Damian pulled back, letting his hand fall to the side. Stupid. So, fucking stupid. What in the world was he thinking? That was way too much, way too fast. Just because he’d been pining for her for four years, it didn’t mean that she felt the same way. He was an idiot.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he stepped off the bed and stumbled backward. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

“No. It’s not…” Raven flushed and looked away, shifting uncomfortably as she searched for the right response. “I… haven’t… done that before.” 

Damian was turned away from her, trying to will his erection away. Her words struck him, and he glanced back at her, trying to understand what she meant. “Made out? I thought you dated Gar?”

“No.” She flushed and pulled her shirt down. It had ridden up with their… activities. “That’s not what I meant.”   

The confession clicked in his head. Oh. Oh. Orgasmed. She had never had an orgasm before. Damian blinked, finding himself trying to understand the confession. “I… um… never?”

“I… only ever slept with Gar, and he was high most of the time, and… just… didn’t really know what to do with my body. He tried though, he just… didn’t think to ask what I needed. So, I faked it a lot.” She shifted, and then scrambled for explanation, as if she needed to excuse herself to him. “I mean, I can… when I’m alone. And… not stressed out about school.” 

Which was never. But still, his mind was filled with a sudden image of her in this exact bed with her fingers between her legs, her head thrown back in pleasure. His cock sprang to life again and Damian turned away. Dear god, the last thing she needed to see was him this absolutely desperate for her.  He took a steadying breath and let it out slowly, hoping he could clear his head well enough to continue the conversation.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She pushed at her hair. There was a moment’s pause and she gave a teasing smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood between them. “But, I guess I have to say that I’ve been proved wrong. You are a pretty good kisser.” 

Damian gave a weak laugh, but it didn’t match the mood. His eyes searched her face for a long moment. “That wasn’t a heat-of-the-moment confession, Raven.” 

She blinked, color filling her face. “Oh.”

“I… you…” He raked his fingers through his hair, feeling himself stumble over everything. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, meeting her stare. “I should go.” 

Raven glanced away. “You don’t even want to try?”

His stomach dropped and his cock twitched again. Try to give her an orgasm? Yes. Yes, he desperately wanted to try. But… she wasn’t sure, and he could hear it in her voice. He slammed his eyes close and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Are you asking?”

“I don’t know what I want.” Raven pushed at her hair and looked back at him, her eyes dark with confusion. “I just know that you’re making me change my opinions on you. Including whether or not I would make out with you… and let you finger me.”

His fingers clenched. “Maybe I wasn’t going to use my hand.” He wet his lips, watching as Raven’s eyes followed the line of his tongue. He wanted to strip her down, to make her realize that not only did he know exactly what he was doing, but he was damned good at it. He wanted to watch her break apart under his touch over and over and over. He wanted to do everything he never dared to let himself dream about. 

But… he could sense her hesitation, and he knew one thing for sure, he didn’t want her to regret this. He wanted nothing less than her enthusiastic consent when they slept together for the first time. 

“I’m not going to take anything more than you want to give me, Raven.” He turned to her and gave her a soft smile. “So… let’s leave it here tonight. And if you want to revisit this conversation at another time, you know where to find me.” 

Raven lifted her eyes to his face, searching his expression for a long moment. Finally, she gave a slow smile and pitched forward. “You’re a surprisingly good guy, Damian Wayne.” 

He snorted and rolled his eyes. 

“Keep making me change my mind about you.” 

His heart turned over, and at the sight of her soft smile, he thought he might melt right there in front of her.

[harrytpotter]

RIGHT PLACE, WRONG TIME — Part VII

Plot: Y/N finds herself trapped in a time in which she doesn’t belong only to learn that maybe that was her place all along.

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,7K.

Right Place, Wrong Time Masterlist.

A/N: Each chapter i write of this story leads me to believe that’ll be at least a couple more than originally planned because i keep wanting to add things to the plot lol. Anyways, hope you guys like this chapter, i’m excited with this! :)

“Thought I might find you here,” you smiled at James, who sat at the higher goalpost in the Quidditch pitch.

“Aren’t you just a show-off riding your broom upright?” He chuckled at the vision of you standing on your feet on top of a broom several metres above the floor. “Come here,” he patted the spot beside him.

“What the bloody hell is that?” You nodded at a squared piece of metal James held with his left hand as you seated next to him.

“Oh, this?” James asked as he turned the box to you whilst levelling it with his eyes and pressed a button. “That’s a Muggle camera. A Polaroid, if I remember its name correctly.”

You quirked your eyebrows when the camera started to make some noises and suddenly spilled a black square with a white frame. James laughed at your reaction as he took the piece of paper out and started to shake it furiously. The black square soon transitioned into a very still picture of you smiling dreamily at the photographer. James handed it over to you.

“Why isn’t it moving?” You frowned, analysing the picture. “Godric, I look terrible.”

“Muggle pictures don’t move. They just... stay still I guess,” he chuckled. “You look perfect and I’m keeping it,” he grabbed the picture from your hands with a smile.

Biting your lower lip amidst a smile, you pulled the camera from James’ hands and, without a warning, snapped a photo of him as well. As the camera tossed the paper out once again, you took it in your fingers and started to shake it exactly like James did. When his handsome features showed on the paper, you couldn’t help but smile at the adoring gaze he was giving you in it.

“And I’m definitely keeping it,” you held the picture in his direction so he could see it.

“I look like an idiot!” He protested with a laugh.

“You look cute!” You argued, smiling.

He stared at you with the same gaze the picture you held had eternalized. 

“Where did you get it anyway?” You asked after a while, handing the camera back to him.

“With me, of course!” Sirius’ voice reached your ears.

Turning your head to your right, you smiled at the sight of the raven-haired boy with stormy grey eyes. “Owning a muggle camera, Sirius Black? If only mommy dearest could see you now,” you teased, laughing.

“I’d say I’d get disowned, but bugger me, that already happened,” he shrugged with a loud laugh, flying on his broom until he was in front of you and James.

“It’s nice to see you smiling again and making jokes about your misfortunes,” you smiled dearly at your friend.

“Like you once told me, I’m much more than my twisted family,” Sirius smiled back at you. “Thank you.”

You, Sirius and James smiled warmly at each other for a few seconds before the grey-eyed boy pulled the camera from James’ hands and got ready to snap a photo of the two of you, “strike a pose, lovebirds!”

James quickly got a hold of your waist and brought you closer to him, planting a kiss on your cheek. Tangling your legs with his, you wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled playfully.

“Aren’t you such a cute couple?” He winged his brows, showing the picture to you and James.

“Aren’t you such a tosser?” You rolled your eyes at him, pulling it out of his hand. “And that’s mine.”

“That I am! But you know what I’m not?” He mischievously lifted a brow at you.

“I’m positive I’m going to regret asking, but… what?” You crossed your arms defiantly.

“A bloody coward who are afraid to own up to their feelings!” He shouted amidst a hearty laugh, speeding off in his broom.

“Oh you did not just call me a coward, Sirius Black!” You cried out, hopping on your broom and flying after him.

You could hear James’ laugh behind as he followed your trail whilst you cut through the air in high speed, chasing your other best friend. The three of you looked like little kids, flying across the corridors of Hogwarts, laughing, cursing and teasing each other, completely ignoring the fact that neither of you should be out of bed by this time.

After a few rounds, Sirius got a little advantage on you and James and got off his broom, ditching it recklessly inside the nearest broom closet and starting to run on foot. He ran for about five minutes before stopping to catch his breath and hiding behind a statue. Sirius shut his eyes down as he tried to stead his breathing and suppress the laughter that threatened to burst from his lungs.

“Where the bloody hell is this damned dog?” You hissed at James, trying not to alert Sirius of your presence as you hopped off your broom yourself, a little further from the bloom closet.

Landing right beside you, James took his index finger to his lips and grabbed you by the hand, pointing his head to a shadow with a curly long hair standing a few meters ahead of you. Exchanging mischievous grins, both you and James started to tiptoe in its direction, ever so silently. Once the boy entered your visual field, you realised he had his eyes shut and, looking at James, you bit your lower lip devilishly. The messy-haired boy nodded at you with a lopsided grin as the two of you cautiously got even closer to Sirius, ready to startle the living hell out of him.

However, before you could scare him away, the loud sound of footsteps and an incomprehensible nagging approaching your location startled the three of you. Sirius widened his eyes and James pushed you behind the statue, before getting into hiding himself.

“You do realise this space is quite small for the three of us, don’t you?” Sirius shot you and James a glare.

“At least we’ll go down together, Pad,” you wiggled your brows sarcastically. “Unless you’re a bloody coward who’d much rather throw your own friends under the bus to save yourself.”

“Like I said, love, you’re the only coward among us,” he smirked gleefully.

“Aren’t you just asking to be hexed, Black?” You smiled wryly at him, wand in hand.

“Please, go ahead; I’d love to see that!” Remus joked as his head popped behind Sirius. “What are you three idiots doing behind this statue anyway?”

“We just heard footsteps and-,” James started to talk but suddenly stopped as he realised something. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Guilty,” Remus shrugged playfully. “When I woke up and didn’t find you in your beds I figured you’d be doing something stupid, so I came looking for you. Then I heard your very discreet and quiet giggles and cursing and decided to follow you idiots.”

“Did you just prank us by pretending to be Filch, Moony?” You asked, astonished.

“Indeed, my dear Beastie,” he smirked satisfied.

“That was… genius!” James frowned in awe.

“You were supposed to be the nice one, you know that right?” You winged a brow at him, a lopsided grin forming on your lips. “Come on, boys, let’s head back before the actual Filch catches us.”

Taking the lead, you started to walk up the corridor, James by your side and the other two boys right behind you. The four of you were still discussing Remus’ brilliant tactic when a distant meow erupted with the wind and made you all freeze.

“That was not funny mate,” James rolled his eyes at Remus after the initial shock. “That bloody cat creeps me out.”

“It wasn’t me,” Remus frowned. “I swear!” He added at the sceptical stares.

“Well, in that case…” Sirius rested his left hand on Remus’ shoulder. “RUN!”

You, James, Sirius and Remus held hands as you lot desperately ran in the opposite direction of Mrs Norris’ meows. You passed through the halls heading to the Gryffindor Tower like a blur, laughing and slipping, chests pounding and adrenaline cursing through your veins.

“I- I think- I’m going- to faint,” Sirius muttered breathlessly, stopping abruptly. He leaned against the rock-wall, a hand on his chest and another on the wall, steading him.

“Seriously, Padfoot?” James rested his hands on his knees, catching a breath. “We’re literally one turn away from the Fat Lady portrait.”

“Well, Prongs, ‘m sorry if not everyone here is a damn jock!” He quirked his brows with annoyance.

“You realise you’re also on the Quidditch team, right?” You chuckled.

“As a beater!” He cried out hysterically. “It’s not like I have to run in my broom through and through across the pitch for the entire match!”

“Padfoot…” Remus started, massaging the bridge of his nose to suppress a laugh. “Stop being such a drama queen, would ya?”

Before Sirius could hit back, a new meow sound alerted you of Mrs Norris’ closeness. Turning on your heels, the lot of you got ready to get back on running towards the opposite direction, but a creepy laugh coming from the hallway ahead of you, frustrated your plans.

“Fuck, it’s Filch!” James hissed, heaving a sigh.

“Now what?” Remus asked hopelessly. “If we turn around, we’ll run straight into Mrs Norris. If we go this way, we’ll run straight into Filch.”

“Well, we obviously can’t be here like sitting ducks,” you muttered, pacing around and desperately wishing a way out.

“Would you stop already?” Sirius rolled his eyes at you when you were about to complete your third round.

Before you could tell Sirius off, a sudden noise of rocks moving was heard and a large door made of bronze materialised itself on the wall out of thin air.

“What the bloody hell is that?” You asked no one in particular, approaching the door with a straightened arm, ready to touch the patterns engraved on it.

“Our way out, apparently,” James said as he took your opened hand in his and pushed the door open, dragging you inside the unknown room.

Sirius and Remus followed the two of you, closing the door behind them whilst looking around the peculiar room. It was messy and had all sorts of things scattered around it: an old enchanted harp that was playing a soothing old music by itself, a wooden cabinet with a strange shape and endless piles of old books and trinkets.

“What is this place?” You asked, gobsmacked. You had never seen it before and you were sure if anyone would know what that room was, it would be the three boys standing beside and behind you.

“I- I don’t know…” James whispered, equally awestruck. “We’ve never seen it before.”

Splitting up, each one of you followed a different direction, all eager to explore the newly-found refuge in Hogwarts. You wandered through the aisles, taking in the most strange and unique sights as your eyes spotted interesting magical objects. Turning on your left after a few meters, you went deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of junk, stopping suddenly when something odd caught your attention. On top of a blistered, small old cupboard laid a stone bust of an old warlock wearing a dusty wig. What really stood out to you, however, was an ancient discoloured tiara, sat lopsided upon the bust. It was beautiful and unique: a silver diadem in the shape of an eagle with open wings; it had a blue sapphire shaped like an oval right below the eagle’s head. Etched upon its surface was a quote: "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." You found yourself hypnotized by its beauty; it was as if you could feel an invisible force pulling you to it, wrapping you in its magnetic strength. You stretched your arms, reaching for the strange object. A cold and cruel chuckle filled the air.

“Y/N…” The voice to which the chuckles belonged to, whispered. You could feel your skin crawl, terrified, but you couldn’t break out of the trance.

Your fingers were almost touching the diadem when you felt a light pressure on your shoulder. Looking to your left, you found James staring at you with a frown.

“Are you alright, love?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. “I’ve called your name a few times but you didn’t seem to be listening.”

“Yeah- Yeah, ‘m fine,” you muttered slowly, retracting your arm and clutching your hands together on your chest.

James tilted his head as he eyed the object that had you so interested, turning his body in its direction. “What is it anyway?” He asked, walking towards the stone bust and motioning to grab the tiara.

“Don’t touch it!” You bawled as you quickly grabbed his hand. “I don’t think this is… good.”

“Do you think this is… dark magic?” James asked incredulously. “It wouldn’t be inside a room in Hogwarts if it was.”

“I just...” you started, resting your face in your hands. “Just please don’t touch it, ok? If anything ever happens to you, I-“

“Hey,” James whispered, taking your hands off your face. “I find it extremely cute that you’re worried about me, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m never leaving you.”

“Promise?” You stared pleadingly into his eyes.

“I promise,” he reassured you with a sweet smile. James cupped your cheeks with his hands and placed a kiss on your forehead, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger on your skin for a little bit longer before pressing his own forehead against yours.

You rested your hands of top of his and smiled at the messy-haired boy. The urge of kissing James felt so right in this moment, but you knew that was your hopelessly-in-love heart speaking. Unfortunately, your head knew better and the image of Lily and Harry floated in your mind, so you just stood there, staring lovingly into those piercing hazel eyes.

“They’re too quiet, Moony! I think they’re making out, we can’t barge in there!” You and James heard Sirius’ urgent whispers to Remus on the other side of the junk pile.

“They’re not making out!” Remus’ voice whispered back. “I too wish they were, but I don’t think they are. Are they?”

“No, we’re not!” You shouted with a roll of your eyes, smiling and getting away from James before your two friends could see you.

“But you should!” Sirius winged his brow as he entered your vision field.

“I agree!” James shrugged playfully, winking at you.

“Aren’t you forgetting about a little detail called Amos Diggory, mate?” Remus teased, pursing his lips together to suppress a laugh. “Too soon?” He added at the death glare James sent him.

“You can tease all you want, Moony,” James gave him a lopsided grin. “But don’t complain when you’re not chosen as best man in our wedding.”

“Excuse me? Wedding?” You looked at James, flabbergasted.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged before wrapping his arm on your shoulders and guide you to the door. “I’m making you Mrs Potter one day.”

“You sound awfully sure for someone who doesn’t even got the girl yet, mate,” Sirius joked.

“But I will, Pads, but I will!” He patted his friend on the shoulder with his free hand.

“Aren’t you a cocky git? Godric!” you bumped your elbow against his side.

“What, love? You seriously thought I’d hand you to over to Diggory without a fight and watch him being happy with the woman I love? Not a chance!” He said bluntly with a confident smile.

You grimaced as you stared at the floor without knowing what to say. Your cheeks were warm and your stomach stubbornly fluttering at his words.

“Alright lovebirds, as your future best man that will always look out for your best interests, I advise you to head back to bed before the day rises and get some sleep,” Sirius smiled satisfied at his two smitten friends.

“And who made you best man, again? That will be me and you know it!” Remus teased, playfully wrestling the raven-haired boy.

And like that, amidst wedding chats and playful teases, the four of you headed back to the Gryffindor Tower.

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

Taglist: @treestarrrrrrrr @fanfic-enthusiast-collector @jgtfvhsg @jullianerey @silver-winter-wolf @ladylizziesficsaves

[bellygunnr]

Of the Same Steel and Temper

John regarded Dr. Halsey calmly as she revealed the information he already knew-- Project MJOLNIR was entering its final stage, and he was a player in its execution. He doesn’t even smile as she continues to talk, only resting his holographic hand on the hilt of his holographic blade, allowing bits of his code to fritz together as he ran operations elsewhere. He was rather proud of his latest bit of detective work. Infiltration was his specialty.

Not that he enjoyed it, but he did like showing off his prowess in all tasks.

“I’ve already selected my teammate,” John announces, cutting off Dr. Halsey.

She stops short, raising an eyebrow, but expression otherwise unreadable.

“And who have you selected, John?” she says patiently.

John unsheathes his blade with a flourish and points theatrically at a picture frame on the corner of Dr. Halsey’s crowded, messy desk. In the picture, a single woman stood at attention while an Admiral-- Stanforth, he notes-- pinned the UNSC Legion of Honor to her chest. Her expression was relatively schooled, but a mischievous brand of fire shone in her eyes, permanently captured in eternity by the photo. He didn’t have to look at the other citations and medals weighing on her chest to know that she was well-accomplished.

A moment passes. When Dr. Halsey doesn’t say anything, seemingly unable to recover, John forges on.

“Master Chief Petty Officer Cortana-117,” he says, weighing each word carefully, “is a highly accomplished and experienced Spartan. I’ve taken the liberty of researching her thoroughly and I like what I’ve seen. As I speak, I am already calculating our compatibility and… find them within acceptable parameters.”

“It seems you have made up your mind, John,” Dr. Halsey says slowly. “But are you sure?”

“I do not dwell,” John says seriously. “She seems to know how to take action. I can appreciate that in a body.”

“But you know she excels particularly nowhere in terms of physical or mental prowess, yet is the most willingly to undertake risks. She got that medal by attacking Covenant head-on and saving Marines in the process.”

“I am aware. Again, that is something I can appreciate in a body, Dr. Halsey.”

John had wandered off from his holopad to stand inches away from Dr. Halsey’s face. His sword is back in its sheathe, hands clasped firmly behind his back. Under the lights, his ancient Spartan armor glitters emerald green and fire yellow, body rapidly shifting between the two colors.

Despite his level best efforts, his emotions tended to reveal themselves. He was tense and excited but most of all, determined. He would have Cortana as his teammate.

“And what of a mission if she were to become compromised? What would you do if she could die?”

John immediately tenses, his holographic form flashing a brilliant ruby red. A second later, it washes back into his neutral dark green, swirling across his stout frame in ragged bands of hue.

“I don’t think you should ask me questions you are not prepared to answer yourself, doctor,” he replies, affecting a flat tone. “You insult me.”

AI and human stare at each other. Dr. Halsey seems flustered, her thoughts visibly racing behind steely eyes. She cuts one last look at Cortana’s photo before allowing her demeanor to shift, conceding defeat with just a tip of her head.

“Very well, then, John. You can have her,” Dr. Halsey says. “Now, what of the rest of the mission?”

---

The differences in the new model of armor ranged from subtle to obvious. It was definitely heavier, but the modification of her neural implants made the weight negligible. If she was feeling generous, she might even say she was moving faster in this armor. There was also the addition of the shielding-- a shimmering electric layer that reminded her of oil spills on pavement. Iridescent and full of color, but dangerous.

But there was one more thing-- the second major change they had given Mjolnir. So far, it hadn’t come up at all, overshadowed by the shields. The shields were fantastic (as long as she didn’t slip and fall), but it was high time they moved along.

She cocks her head wordlessly at Dr. Halsey. In reply, Dr. Halsey withdraws something from her bag.

“Your own neural lace has been upgraded to better interact with the armor, as you may know,” she starts, “but it also it interface with an AI. A layer of memory-processor super-conductor has been added between the reactive and bio-layers of your armor.”

Cortana nods once. “The same stuff found in an AI’s core?”

“Correct. Your armor will be able to carry an AI-- the same kind that starships house. John will be able to interface between you and the suit. His primary objective will be to provide intelligence support while you’re on the field.”

“What does that entail?” Cortana says, tilting her helmet.

She liked AIs. They were useful and often had personality. She wasn’t sure about sharing her armor with one, however. John wasn’t even impressive name-- who went to all the trouble of making an AI just to name it John?

“John has been outfitted with the best of ONI’s computer infiltration routines and software. He is also equipped with Covenant translation programs. He’s also quite resourceful, but his specialty is, essentially, spywork,” Dr. Halsey replies.

Hm. So this John would be the AI they brought with them, should the upcoming test go well.

“How much… jurisdiction will he have over the suit?” she asks cautiously.

“None. You will have full control of it at all times. John will only be reading and translating the link you have between your brain and the suit-- and improving upon it, so expect that whatever you’re feeling now to be multiplied.”

Cortana liked the sound of that. Real-time intelligence data and greater physical performance? She would be unstoppable. Provided they got along, of course. But everything Halsey was telling her just raised more questions, but before she could ask, Halsey started talking again.

“I’m afraid we only have a small window of time. Please, kneel down so that we may insert the AI into the suit.”

Obediently, she takes a knee, bowing her head to expose the chip’s slot. There’s a moment of hands flicking something open, then a rush of ice water and pain jolts the back of her neck. The sensation trickles like water down the length of her spine before dissipating, leaving her strangely… the same.

Then the AI spoke, and everything was different.

“Hello, Master Chief,” a deep voice said. It was slightly raspy and reverberated in the suit’s speakers.

“Hello, John,” she answers, eyes wide. “Got enough room in there?”

“Not nearly enough. It will do… Thank you for asking.”

Oh. Well, at least he was honest. It was probably difficult to jam the processing power of a starship into the fractional space of her Mjolnir, though she had to wonder how he was compensating for it.

“Let’s begin the test. The conditions have been changed to involve combat-- not ideal, but it should provide ample opportunity for you two to become acquainted. The “win” condition of the test might be familiar to you, Cortana.”

“Ring the bell?” she guesses wryly.

“Indeed. Be careful, and be wary, Master Chief. I hardly need to remind you to be prepared when ONI is involved, but I will say it anyway. You are also authorized to neutralize any threats to accomplish the objective.”

Then Dr. Halsey leans in, voice low, worry lines etching deep into the contours of her face.

“Some would like to see you fail this test,” she says. “See that you don’t.”

“No, ma’am,” Cortana agrees.

Dr. Halsey nods once, then turns on her heel. Just before exiting the tent, however, she looks over her shoulder to stare into Cortana’s face plate, flanked by technicians.

“The second I leave this tent, you must count to ten. After that, make your way to the obstacle course where the bell will be located. And be careful,” she adds, voice firm. “Good luck.”

Cortana resists the urge to salute Dr. Halsey in jest. Instead, she shakes her body out, getting the feel for the armor one more time. As she wiggles her fingers, she hears the metallic clack of weapons from outside the tent.

Her HUD shimmers. The proximity tracker immediately lights up with yellow blips that turn red on the next cycle.

“Assume that all units are hostile,” John says. “The targets are equipped with MA5B assault rifles. Be prepared for my participation.”

“I hope you participate,” she says dryly. “What do you think about this? We’re engaging our own soldiers.”

Eight.

“We’ll win, but I am more excited to see how you handle this,” John says, a hint of emotion slipping into his gravelly voice.

Nine.

Cortana flicks her eyes across the walls of the tent, noting the surprisingly clear silhouettes of soldiers moving outside. She didn’t enjoy facing off against UNSC personnel, especially when they weren’t Spartans, but she never had a choice. Her apprehension only spikes when the shadowy figures become real, breaking into the tent with guns already brought to bear.

Shock troopers. ODSTs, to be exact.

Ten.

The center Helljumper opened fire on thin air. Cortana dove from her elevated platform before his finger could depress the trigger, but she didn’t target him right away. She ripped the rifle out from his port-side buddy’s hands and winced at the unmistakable sight of a shoulder dislocating. Still, she cracks the butt of the rifle across the lead’s chest before turning on the third, suddenly aware that she was in “Spartan Time.”

To her, the third trooper was moving in slow motion, still caught in the throes of reacting to his companions’ defeat. She rips his gun out of his hands and shoves him to the floor, biting back a sigh at the sensation of ribs cracking.

This suit was definitely a step above the last mark. If she didn’t want to hurt them, she’d have to restrain herself even more.

“That’s an odd notion,” John says suddenly. “You have been ordered to neutralize the targets. Why not kill them?”

Cortana frowns as she bustles out of the tent. Immediately, her motion tracker updates with seven more yellow blips that flash red. If she had to hazard a guess, John was forcing the suit to acknowledge the troopers’ FoF tags as ‘foe.’

Interesting.

“John. I think that might be murder.”

“We do need every soldier available,” he concedes.

The tracker’s blips appeared to be concentrated in another on-site tent. On the far side of the tent, she witnesses an ODST peek around the corner for three full seconds before abruptly withdrawing. A thrown grenade replaces them.

Cortana shoots it out of the air. It detonates in a shower of shrapnel and flame, jostling the tent with the shockwave and shredding holes into its roof, but not catching it alight. She’s cutting an entrance into the tent before the smoke and flak has even cleared.

The troopers are facing away from her, rushing for the exit in uniform, slow motion fashion. To her surprise, one twists around and opens fire, bullets pinging across her chest.

She slings the knife she’d been equipped with into his gut. Shielded or not-- and the shields did their job well, turning the impacts into tickles-- she didn’t take kindly to being shot. His buddies she pursues out of the tent, bringing the butt of her rifle to bear on the back of their skulls.

They drop instantly.

“Unconscious, not dead,” John chimes as she whips around to face the other four troopers. “Thought you’d like to know.”

“Thanks,” she says shortly.

More bullets ricochet off her shields. The meter in the corner of her HUD blinks as it diminishes uncomfortably quickly, still un-replenished from the last round of projectiles. Not eager to damage the armor, she rushes forward, grabbing the closest trooper by the torso.

Effortlessly, she tosses his frame into his allies before grabbing up his gun, crushing the barrel. Her HUD wavers as a bolt of alarm flits through her, gaze drawn to the grenade the furthest ODST was trying to arm.

She lets her boots fall onto the arms of the first two troopers, determinedly not thinking about the state of their bones. She also does not think about how the alarm wasn’t her own, instead focusing on snatching up the final two soldiers by their chestplates and tossing them aside.

“Shoot them,” John hisses into her ear. “They’re not neutralized if they’re conscious or functional.”

“What do they have to gain by fighting me? I threw them forty meters!” Cortana exclaims. “I don’t want to hurt them, John.”

John doesn’t say anything but he does mark their position as nav-points on her HUD. She pointedly ignores him by stripping one of the downed soldiers for their grenades, which she promptly attaches to a magnetic hardpoint on her armor. With that done, she takes to the outer edges of the immediate area, making herself as hard to locate as possible.

The obstacle course is achingly familiar by the time she reaches it. It was an endless expanse of tough gravel, just over ten acres of the stuff. She remembered having to cross it bare-foot multiple times alongside her siblings; she could almost feel the ghostly sensation of rocks stabbing her soles.

Before she could step off, however, John speaks, low and urgent.

“Throw a grenade at the field.”

“That’s-- why?” Cortana asks, bewildered.

“There are Lotus mines and that’s the best way for me to calculate the layout. UNSC Engineers try to randomize the pattern, but humans are predictable creatures,” John says impatiently.

Well, it was as good as reason as any. She pulls a grenade from the stolen bandolier and arms it-- and holds it for three full seconds. With a controlled flick of her arm, she chucks it at the ground, watching it bounce once and explode.

Two Lotus mines explode in a geyser of gravel of dirt in reply several feet apart from each other.

“Give me a second,” John says. “Okay. These are rough estimations, but they shouldn’t get you killed. As you were, Master Chief.”

A graph flickers to life, overlaying itself perfectly across the gravel expanse. Yellow flower-like symbols join it in an affixed pattern, telling her what to avoid. That was… extremely useful.

“Don’t like that they’re using anti-tank mines,” she says, gravel crunching underfoot. “Seems a bit much.”

They make the trek across the gravel field in three minutes.

“Thanks, John. That’s really helpful,” Cortana says, making her sigh of relief productive.

“...There’s radio chatter on D band,” John says, his voice oddly pitched. “Encrypted and encoded, but it’s from the nearby airfield. I don’t like it.”

“That sounds exciting…”

But they had bigger things to worry about. After the gravel field was the long, narrow strip of mud and razor wire. It would be interesting to see how the armor’s shields fared against the constant scrape of barbed line. She doubts she could hunker low enough to avoid it entirely.

...If she didn’t get shot to hell first.

“Chain guns, 11 and 1 o’ clock,” John says, almost as soon as she notices them. “I advise evading. I do not feel like dying today.”

Crawling through the razor bed probably doesn’t count as evading, she thinks dryly. She’s glad for their incredibly slow rotation and similarly slow rate of fire at least. It meant that at least one was deactivated by the time she took off sprinting for it, firing at its power lines with her rifle.

There were two chainguns at the far end of the route, clearly meant to create a field of crossfire should she crawl. She’s silenced the one closest to her, but its cousin’s 30mm rounds punch into her chest, threatening to drop her shield into zero with just a handful of impacts.

She silences it by kicking the first chaingun into its chassis, toppling them both.

“Elegant,” John remarks once the residual firing stops. “I am going to investigate something. Don’t get shot.”

Cortana feels the AI slip out of her neural lace. To escape the sudden gaping emptiness, she charges into the rest of the razor-lined trenches. It gave her a few moments to reflect, too. John was an interesting AI. Not horrible to work with, if a little bossy. And vague, too.

If this didn’t feel so high stakes, she’d be arguing more.

Ice water rushes down her neck the same instant she comes up on the next stage of the obstacle course. Years ago, when they were all very young, the Spartans had dubbed this portion the ‘Pillars of Loki.’ It was a nightmarish network of smooth poles of wood-- razed trees-- interspersed with traps and danger. She’d seen the kind of damage the traps could cause.

She wasn’t keen on taking any of them on.

“The airfield is launching an aircraft,” John announces, his voice edged with anger. “A Skyhawk.”

Fuck.

“Language,” John says sternly. “Do you have any ideas? I calculate roughly 30 seconds before contact.”

Well, the best way to avoid traps was to go around them, right? She stares into the crisscross of pillars and deadly vegetation for a couple seconds too many. It would leave her too exposed to try skirting the borders of the field, but maybe climbing onto the poles…

Yeah, that would work.

Cortana scales the nearest tree with a certain lack of finesse. Her armored fingers leave indents in the hard wood and her boots gouge out chunks of bark and flesh from the pole, but she’s standing atop it with-- 15 seconds to spare.

A timer was now ticking down in the corner of her visor.

“Don’t know if that’s helpful, John,” she mutters.

“Bandit inbound,” John replies. “Ideas?”

She launches herself from one pole to the next, taking a diagonal route across the Pillars of Loki. The Skyhawk was an atmospheric fighter that specialized in close air support. It’s complement of four 50mm cannons and anti-tank missiles made it a terrifying and formidable ship, and against her?

Mjolnir, augmentations, AI assistance…

Well, she was as dead as any Covie soldier.

“Contact!” John barks.

The air thrums violently around Cortana as the aircraft bears down on her position. She kicks off of the pillar, free falling just as a spray of bullets sunder the air. Trees shatter into pieces behind her and the world blurs as she tucks into a roll, hitting the ground.

The Mjolnir’s gel layer absorbs much of the impact, but it still hurts.

“Eleven seconds! Goal: 300 meters!” John barks again.

“You’re yelling,” Cortana huffs, climbing to her feet. “No need to yell!”

Once again, a timer was ticking down on her HUD. Nine seconds and going. She was no Kelly, but how hard could a three hundred meter dash be?

Nothing achievable when it was rockets she was facing. The eight-seven-six seconds must be the Skyhawk’s turn time. Maybe she should run for cover.

“No time! New timer! About face!” John shouts, his voice so intense that it drowned out her own panicked thoughts.

Dirt and grass sprays with the force Cortana applies to twist herself around. Her HUD pulses red once before yet another timer pops up, accompanied by the silhouette of a missile. John’s presence inside her mind and suit is suddenly overwhelming.

“When the timer hits zero, the missile will be on top of us. Deflect it.”

John had a knack for sounding like a drill instructor. Or a suicidal admiral. Firm, commanding, unshakable, and slightly tyrannical.

The Skyhawk was hovering nearby. Plumes of white smoke erupt from its left wing as it lets loose a Scorpion missile. Cortana grinds her teeth, feeling a lurch as her brain overclocks into Spartan Time once again.

Three.

Cortana nearly falls over as the Mjolnir’s shields are ramped to their maximum settings.

Two.

The Skyhawk is bearing down on them, outpacing its missile.

“Now!”

Cortana jinks to the side, slapping the fuselage of the missile and sending it off course.

It still explodes several meters behind her. The resultant explosion knocks out her shields and launches her ten meters into the air. Darkness overwhelms her and several internal systems start wailing.

“Run like hell.”

She didn’t have to be told that twice, but her body is shaking violently as she hauls herself back to her feet. Her initial few strides are wobbly, growing steadier in fits and bursts. The goal’s nav-point is blurry and out of focus.

Oh, she was bleeding!

Cortana uses the bell’s tripod to stop her forward momentum. It collapses underneath her and crumples like a tin can, unable to stand up to a half-ton of armored Spartan.

She’s rewarded by the crackle of Dr. Halsey’s voice in her ear: “Test complete. Withdraw, Colonel Ackerson. Magnificent, Master Chief, but please don’t move. I’m sending a recovery team.”

She picks herself up from the bell. Despite its crushed state, she can tell it’s the very same bell she rung some thirty-odd years ago.

“We did it, John!” Cortana laughs. “That was… exhilarating.”

Gingerly, she sets the bell back onto the ground, panting and bleeding inside of her helmet. She probably broke her nose but that was nothing compared to the sense of peace she was now feeling. Whatever this had been, she had conquered it.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, either,” she says softly. “Thank you, John.”

“...Thank you, Master Chief,” John replies. “It was a pleasure working with you.”

Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.9

TW Purposeful misgendering of MC, and overall skeevy first POV.

MC is agender and here I started this chapter with the POV of someone out right misgendering them.

Capital He/Him pronouns are associated with Slender.

He was angry, but then again when wasn't He. You've wasted too much time on “laying low”. And now He's getting impatient, you're starting to hear whispers about potential replacements and incompetency. First you fuck up your mission then you gave Him the subpar sacrifice of that dumb hippie. He didn't want her, He wanted her. Her being your current and original target.

The girl who moved to town in the middle of March, YN. Didn't wait for the month to end or come the first week of the new one. Such a strange time to move...almost as if she was running away from something. He had taken an interest in her immediately. You didn't see what was so special about her, just another mousy girl in a small town, very obedient from what you saw.

Maybe that's what caught His attention. A new little puppet to add to His collection...but His urgency with this task didn't really fit. You knew for a fact He wasn't human but...could He have desires of the flesh? Was this a twisted perversion of your god's? The fuzzy feeling in your head gets painful at the thought.

'Ok, you aren't after some ass.' you think trying to appease Him.

It doesn't work, your apology is almost as worthless as you are to Him in this moment. You've really been testing Him lately, understandably this is your last chance so to speak. Bring Him YN or you won't be His problem much longer.

A chill runs down your spine at the ill intent you feel through your contract.

You're working on it, really you are. But she's so stupid and air headed it will take a while to break her for Him to be able to properly mold her. Not to mention she seems to have acquired a new guard dog. One that seems to have problems staying still, yet will spend hours watching her.

You'd seen him around town a few times in the past week or two, he has two other companions who aren't as bad about keeping low profiles. Yeah, you'd seen each of them at her house at one point or another. The short one seemed to have a nasty habit of slinking into her home in the dead of night as she slept. He didn't seem to go in during her drives, only when she'd be there. The tall one would come in the early morning or middle of the day, either to retrieve his partner or to snoop around inside for a bit before leaving. Aside from his partner he never seemed to leave with anything, never went in with anything either. They weren't leaving traces so they couldn't be your replacements.

Even if they had been they didn't seem too tough, you could over take them easy. Show Him you were still good for something.

But worst of all was her fucking mutt. He'd just circle the outside of the house, inspecting it. For what you have no clue, but he kept at it like he had a keen eye and could detect the slightest change of the home. One day he started looking off into the tree line and you'd almost swear he knew where you were. And while his nearly all black eyes made you think he was your replacement, intimidating you, your god suggested otherwise.

Reminding you that they weren't breaking her down for Him. That was your job.

Not only was the twink annoyingly thorough when at her home but he seems to have followed her to work today. You hope this isn't a new habit for him, you'll need to catch YN off guard at some point and you can't do that with that stupid twitching bastard around.

He bought two books and YN had seemed surprised when he came up to chat with her after finishing the first one. She's not your normal type but you can't deny she is cute talking so excitedly, you really wish that fucking mask was off her face so you could see her plump lips move. Come to think of it, twitchy was also wearing a mask. Is that why she talks so freely with him? Was all you had to do to get close to her was wear a mask? Or did she have a little crush on this guy?

No, she's speaking the same way she would with one of the Hornets. He however has a certain look in his eye while they talk. Maybe someone does have a crush...Or maybe he's just a disgusting stalker like you are. Were, like you were that is before your god saw the potential in you. And blessed you as one of his followers.

If he is a creepy little stalker tailing her you could let him do the breaking, and then you'd swoop in for the kill. Would that take too long? Better yet would your god even be happy with the idea. He can get very touchy about plans, down to the tiniest details too. You've witnessed first hand what He does to those who leave gaps for targets to get through.

Reprogramming doesn't seem pleasant. But that'll be the least of your worries if you don't get a move on with delivering Him His choice of offering. In the years you've been of service to your god...you don't recall Him ever choosing his offering. A target yes of course plenty, but His next puppet or a special meal. No this was big, testing your worth probably, very big.

'And you're failing.' that voice isn't yours.

'How, astute.' He's chatty today. That's always a bad thing. For you anyway.

You turn your attention to the bookshop across the street, coffee shops make such great covers especially when you add a laptop and act as though you're writing a novel, no one spares you a glance. It's five and that means quitting time, maybe YN wouldn't go home right away. You could run into her and plant some seeds of paranoia in her.

Mess with her head, have her freak out and cause a scene in town to discredit her further in the future. Your typical MO. After all she is just the simple new girl in town, and small town residents don't trust easy.

'This should be fun.' you think as you pack up your computer and notebook.

Heading to your car you wait in the parking lot for a moment, making it look as though you were busy with your phone while you waited to see that ugly yellow car drive in one direction or another. It doesn't take long before you catch sight of the brightly colored Kia taking the road towards the general store.

Wonderful, one humiliating panic attack in public coming up. This was something you could manage perfectly on your own. Though maybe once your god was more pleased with you, you'd ask for His assistance in giving her a few more hallucinations. After all the faster she's broken down the faster He gets what He wants.

Once at the small store you park one space away from her Kia. Normally for targets you prefer if they don't notice your car but it's not like there's room to go else where in this parking lot. Just as you're about to make your way inside, you hear more murmuring.

How the hell are you supposed to do His bidding when all He seems to want to do is keep interfering? It's getting so frustrating that you're starting to question your god's intelligence.

For your insolence you are hit hard with the worst migraine you've ever gotten since taking up a contract with Him.

'You are not the only one following them.' is the biting retort.

Moving your head despite the pain, you scan the store through squinted eyelids as you stand just out of your car. And you catch sight of him, that twitching guard dog from before. He hasn't noticed you but he seems to be sharing a cart with YN.

Did she get a boyfriend? Were you just unaware of that detail this entire time? She seems too relaxed with him for that to be anything else. They look too domestic together, you'll have fun ripping them apart. She'll probably cry like the bitch she is when you do, that's a very nice picture.

'Leave.' what now?

'Leave before he catches on to you.' The twitchy twink? You could take him in a fight, kid is practically all bones, why should you leave?

Instead of an answer your migraine intensifies. For the first time in years you are racked with so much pain that you would've collapsed on the ground if your car hadn't been near to steady yourself.

A chime of a bell sounds, “Hey pal you alright there?”, it's just Leo. Luckily you've never shopped at his store so likely hood of him knowing who you are or mentioning this to anyone isn't high.

“Ah...yeah,” you say through the wincing, “real bad migraine.”

“I got some Excedrin-”

“I'll just come back later.” you cut him off and get back into your car. Movement isn't easy for you under all this pain but you can feel His presence in your mind gaining control. You'll either wake up back in your bed or on the forest floor covered in blood and ticks. You really hope it isn't the last one as you black out just as you turn onto 3rd Avenue.

Leo comes back into the store almost as soon as he ran out.

“Everything ok?” you ask. You'd seen the man run out when you turned around to ask if he had gluten free vegetable stock.

“Yea, some tourist must'a got car sick or somethin'.” you nod at his gruff reply.

“Oh, do you have any gluten free vegetable stock?”

The old man eyes you warily.

“Kid don' tell me ya got on one a those fad diets.”

“No it's for the Picnic next week. I wanted to make an all diet friendly foragers pie.” you said shaking your head, which snaps right twice. Behind you you hear a muffled clucking coming from Toby.

Toby had hung out at the shop with you today. After he read through The Son of Neptune the two of you had discussed the series for a bit before you almost let some spoiler slip through. Toby couldn't help but laugh when you pushed him into a reading nook to finish reading the series before you ruined it for him. He got two thirds of The Mark of Athena done before you clocked out for the day.

While leaving he mentioned he needed to go shopping and asked where the grocery store in town was because he hadn't seen one in the area. You offered to take him to Leo's shop because it had everything you could need and was a small local business. Like most things in Kepler but there was a Trader Joe's that opened up in town, and they don't have much to offer when you cook from scratch. So here you were shopping together.

“I think we have organic no clue if it's vegan though.”

“Gluten free.” Leo rolls his eyes in dismissal and goes off to find the organic broth for you.

“Was there anything else you needed to grab?” you asked turning to look at Toby.

He had a list with him and had been ripping small tears to cross off what he'd gotten. He nods once then twice as his eyes find items he had yet to find, until they stop near the bottom of the list. Toby's dark brown eyes roll so hard you're pretty sure they rolled to the back of his skull. He lets out a dramatic 'agh' sound at whatever was on the list. Before crumbling it and tossing it into the cart.

“Atomic Fireballs and eggs. Can you grab the candy? Some people get pissy about their eggs.” he says cutting his eyes to the cooler containing eggs. This is probably a regular argument with the group.

With a small nod and an “mmhmm” you run off to the candy isle. You smell the cinnamon candy before you even see the container on the shelf. Before running off back to Toby and the cart, you pause debating if you should grab some M&Ms or chocolate chips to make cookies for tomorrow's movie night. You had stress eaten the snacks you bought last week only having the Surge left for Kirby, like hell you would drink it yourself.

After the week you've had baking sounded really nice. The mind numbing activity would probably be therapeutic since you haven't baked in so long. You grab two of the bigger bottles of mini M&Ms they always taste better to you, plus mini cookies tend to be a bigger hit than their regular sized counter parts. On your way to the front of the store you pass an end cap for chips. Seeing the white cheddar popcorn you like you grab a bag to replace the one you ate earlier in the week.

You should be set now, as long as Leo had the broth. If he didn't gluten free broth seems like something the Trader Joe's would have.

Toby's already at the counter with Leo, who had a box of broth off to the side. Noice. You place the Atomic candy on the counter with the rest of Toby's items. Leo looks between the two of you but brushes off whatever thought or comment he had.

“This it for you kid?”Leo has already begun ringing him out.

You see the movement of Toby's mouth open while he double checks the cart, he closes it when he sees the wad of paper. He must have forgotten something. Going over your own list you double check to make sure you have everything before it's your turn.

“N-n-n-no, can I-I-I get two boxes of condoms? St-s-st-standard and Large.” Toby's popping his knuckles a little more aggressively than normal, well what you've equated to normal for Toby.

'Oh.' the add ons sort of surprise you, but his exaggerated sigh from earlier makes more sense. Why did you even think that eggs caused that sort of reaction? It was probably because he was gonna have to ask for condoms in front of you. His new friend, nearly a stranger. Toby's agitated tics and stuttering are very valid right now.

You miss the look Leo gives you but Toby doesn't and when Leo looks back at him his tics get more frequent.

Looking to Toby when his 'mrrow' tic keeps repeating, you see the tips of his ears are a soft pink. A stark contrast to their normally grayish white complexion. Wanting to help but knowing he's most likely just embarrassed you decide to say nothing and ignore the situation. Thankfully Leo doesn't make any type of comment either as he finishes ringing out Toby and hands him his receipt.

“This it kid?” He says as he starts checking out your items.

“Um...ah, what's the pizza today?” this week isn't your normal pizza week but with the Picnic being next weekend you probably won't do pizza next week. And you have to have a slice ready for Chonk, least he decides to see what human taste like.

“Spinach and mushroom, a white pizza.”

“Yea I'll take one of those then please.”

“Garlic crust?” How very dare this man. What kind of question is that.

“Of course.”

He leaves to the back of the store yet again to retrieve your pizza. There's a silence that falls over the store as he leaves, leaving only you and Toby out front. Not an awkward type of silence but you definitely aren't going to risk a glance at Toby right now.

“I threw in an extra for that stray you've been feeding.” He says as he returns. Toby having calmed down a bit scoffs at the stray comment.

“That isn't a-a-a stray it's a fucking dem-mon.”

“Ok like that's fair, but he is kinda cute.”

“I don't care what it is, just keep it away from my store.” Leo finishes ringing you up. “Bad for business to have a wild animal rooting through the garbage.” Leo doesn't care about that stuff he also fears Chonk, and all his trash panda glory.

Once you settled your tab with Leo you and Toby go out to your car. You place his items in the backseat while you take the trunk, so no one goes home with the wrong item. Stars forbid you end up with the condom bag and have to awkwardly give that to Toby or even worse Brian or Tim. You've had four interactions with the man but already you can hear Brian's teasing banter.

Getting situated in the car you hand your phone to Toby to pick the music. You'd left your entire library open this time and not just the home page, you wanted to see if he'd pick something different or just go with the last thing played. He did scroll a bit before just clicking the last played playlist. Well at least he looked, maybe you'd make a playlist and see what he liked. He could just enjoy the songs.

While you're stuck at the light waiting to turn you remember consciously that Saturday Night Dead is tomorrow. You wonder if the trio would be joining you all. Wouldn't hurt to ask.

“Hey so are you guys coming over to the Cryptonomica tomorrow night?”

“Tim and Brian are.” Toby's eyes glance at the window as he picks at the skin around his nails.

“Oh. Why aren't you coming?” you hope you don't sound too pushy.

“Hi, I'm Toby I have Tourette's.” He says in a deadpan.

“Nice to meet you, I'm YN I have Autism.” you sass back cutting your eyes to him, “and I have tics too remember.”

“You can sit beside me. The gang never mentions my ticcing or stimming during a movie and I sit in the corner to be less of a distraction.”

From the corner of your eye you can see he peeled off a bit of skin and is now bleeding. When you slow down at the light you reach over him to the glove box and pull out a box of band-aids. Tossing the box in his lap you focus back on the road. There's a cracking sound when Toby's shoulder pop from a tic but other than that you two fall into a lull in the conversation.

From the corner of your eye you see Toby put the box in the cup holders between you. This little shit, just because he doesn't feel pain doesn't mean picking his skin is a healthy fidget.

“...I..I'll think about it.” he's still picking at his skin but maybe reassurance will help him calm down.

“Well, I hope I see you tomorrow then,” you can't help the grin on your face, you're just a touch giddy at the fact you've made a friend this fast. “No pressure though.” can't be too pushy you might scare him off.

You hear a huff as he turns more of his body to look out the window. He isn't upset his energy feels calm almost excited, it's nice to meet someone who isn't so confusing with their actions. Though you'd wish he wouldn't try to hide them. Maybe you both have the same idea of not wanting to overwhelm the other right away. You get the feeling this situation...your blooming friendship with Toby, it isn't something he's use to.

Getting to the RV you help Toby carry in the groceries, despite his protests that he can do it. It was just machismo of course, because once inside the RV you noticed how clean it was for three bachelors and their huge dog living in it. Sure there were dishes in the sink but dishes are a care chore that never ended. There was very little clutter that you saw but you also weren't paying close attention since you were just helping bring in groceries and not here for a visit. It would be rude to look, you think.

Once all of the boys' bags were brought in and either on the counter or table you saw a majority of them had blood smears all on the handles. Fucking Toby, you gave him band-aids for a reason.

“Tobais you're bleeding.”

“Thanks Captain obvious.” you want to smack him.

“Do you guys have a first aid kit?”

“Nope.” he sounds so smug when he pops the 'p' sound.

“Ok, then I'll go get the band-aids out of my car and you wash your hands.”

“Don'-uwu- Don't worry about it.”

You have to bite your lip so you don't laugh but the small stream of air coming from your nose let Toby know you were laughing. Despite his mask you can see his pout clearly when he turns to you.

“I...I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't...but it's too,” your giggling is breaking down your ability to speak, “cute.”

The grumpy face sort of melts off of the boy in front of you, but you can tell by the vibes he's still touchy. You try to calm yourself but quickly realize you aren't giggling anymore because of his tic.

“C'mon it isn't even that funny.” he says gruffly, before looking off to the side.

“No...it's,” you keep shaking your head as the movement doesn't stop. The loop won't stop and you're starting to tear up from the muscles in your abdomen seizing up then relaxing in repetition.

Toby seems to realize what's happened.

“No fucking way.” is all he says as he comes closer to your still giggling form. “A giggling tic?” You can only nod, you're starting to get light headed. Toby noticing you starting to crouch down, helps ease you to sit. He stays by your side as you both wait for the tic to cease.

He even tries rubbing a hand on your back to soothe you into calming down. You'll need to tell him physical comfort doesn't really help you. It's still sweet of him to try.

Unlike a laughing fit that will have a gradual die down of the action, your laughing tic has an abrupt stop. But you feel just as tired and even more sick than someone who just got out of a laughing fit. Breath coming out hitched though you try to gasp in more air to soothe your impending headache. Your face is red and covered in tear stains, once again you are thankful for your mask. This isn't a tic you get often but you probably hate this one the most, just from how drained it leaves you.

Toby continues to rub circles into your back as your breathing starts to even. Eventually he gets up to grab you some water. You notice it's quiet in the RV, not even Connor is around Brian must have him today.

“That was probably karma.” he says as he hands you the glass. Looking up to him confused he continues, “For teasing me about my tic.”

“But I w-wa-,” you take a large gulp of water for the raspiness of your voice, “I wasn't teasing. I just thought 'uwu' was a cute vocal tic.” you say indignantly.

Really you had only thought the verbal tic was cute. Also it'd been a while since you heard 'uwu' said aloud so it caught you off guard.

“Not as cute as a giggling tic.” who's teasing who now.

“Haha, don't get used to it doesn't happen often.”

After settling down from you tic it's time to head home. You really don't want to over stay your welcome. The fatigue is also starting to set in and you want to get home before it really hits.

Toby is nothing if not a gentleman you've noticed. And he continues to be on brand as he walks you back to your car.

“So thanks for that.” vaguely motioning as if to say 'y'know' with your hands rather than your words. Toby knows, you can tell from that boyish glint in his eyes.

“Hope to see you tomorrow night.” you say getting back into your car.

“It's sounding better now.” there's a pause, “Get home safe.” he slaps the interior of your window before backing away from your car altogether.

With a final wave you back out back onto the old dirt road and drive on home. When you get home you realize you never patched up Toby's hand, now you have a small bloodstain on your door.

[nychwrites]

Winter’s Warmth — a Daichi and Michimiya fanfiction

Notes: I'm not good in writing fluff and this is my very first Haikyuu fanfiction, so I'm so sorry in advance if it's so-so 😂. I was experimenting with this, but here you go! 💓

Daichi Sawamura, class 3-4, Karasuno’s boys’ volleyball club team captain. Ever since they won the ticket to nationals, he’s been the talk of the town; girls here and there swooning over him and how he’s responsible, handsome, smart, and athletic in one.

What they don’t know, however, is that the Sawamura Daichi is also dense as fuck.

“It’s been a while, huh,” Yui Michimiya commented, gesturing to herself. “I mean, we never got the chance to talk after nationals...”

Daichi leaned against the window sill, arms crossed. “Yeah. How are things going?”

“Uh—the volleyball club seems pretty well ever since I retired,” Yui commented. “They’ve set their goals higher and the new captain is much more capable than me.”

“Don’t say that, you’re the best captain they can ever ask for you know,” Daichi replied casually, frowning a bit. Yui’s heart, however, started pounding like crazy.

The casualness between the two captains is something Yui grew up with. She’s used to being around him and the other third years in the volleyball club, not really minding that they’re, indeed, of opposite sexes. Besides, volleyball has always been the foundation of their friendship.

And well, her feelings for Daichi probably stemmed from that, too.

She knows to herself that she should’ve suppressed her feelings as soon as she felt it. It’s in Daichi’s nature to be caring and uplifting, knowing that he’s the volleyball team’s captain. However, some things just cannot be helped; best example, Yui’s situation.

I mean, what’s not to like about Daichi? He’s smart, athletic, caring, a huge gentleman, and selfless, although it’s nulled whenever he’s with his team—usually, his nagging side shows up instead.

Despite that, he’s an overall good guy. It’s a shame if nobody notices his good traits.

“Michimiya? You good?”

Yui snapped back in reality from fawning over Daichi. “Oh! I’m sorry, just thought of something,” she replied sheepishly. “So we’re graduating soon, huh...”

‘I haven’t even confessed to you,’ Yui wanted to add, but she couldn’t. Even if she tried, she knows she can’t. Even if she’s in her death bed, or if she’s in the highway to Hell. Heck, she’d rather die than to confess!

Ever since they’ve settled comfortably into the ‘friendship’ label, she can’t picture herself from beyond that. Sure, she fantasizes from time to time about being in a relationship with him, but she knows that with their current situation, that’s a bit of a stretch. She doesn’t even know if she’s worthy of being his girlfriend, even; she thinks that he’d rather date Sugawara or Azumane...

‘No. No more of the self-deprecation, Yui!’ she thought to herself. ‘At least ask him if he likes someone!’

With a determined stance, she slapped her cheeks as hard as she can, catching Daichi by surprise. “W-Woah! Are you really okay?”

Yui let out a heaved breath that she didn’t realize she was holding in and faced Daichi. “Uhm, S-Sawamura, do you, uh... l-like someone r-right now?”

Sugawara, who was just passing by, suddenly butted in with a, “Good luck, Daichi!” and walked away like it was nothing, leaving Yui confused and scared.

‘What did he mean by good luck?’

Daichi, on the other hand, was plain confused, both from the question and Suga’s sudden “good luck”. He considers Yui as a good friend, that he’s sure; but why the sudden question? And what the heck is up with Suga? Did Tanaka and Nishinoya cause ruckus again? Or, perhaps, did Hinata and Kageyama bother the vice president again? Or—

‘Ah, right. They’ll be in Ennoshita’s hands from now on.’

“U-Uhm, i-if you don’t wanna tell me, I’m fine with that,” Yui suddenly said, which snapped him out from his train of thoughts. He looked at her once more, and for the first time, saw her in a different light.

With a quickened heartbeat, he saw a different Yui Michimiya standing right in front of him; someone that wasn’t his “volleyball buddy” right from middle school. He saw the woman that she was now, with her beautiful short hair, soft, sparkling eyes, her cheeks flushed red and the sunlight reflecting down on her.

It was all too sudden.

“I-I’m sorry for asking!” she suddenly screamed, turning her body away. “I-I gotta go, b-bye!” With that, she ran away.

Daichi stood frozen, both from the shock at seeing Yui run away so suddenly and from the realization that he had.

“Oi, Daichi you stupid motherfu—“

“Suga, not too loud!”

Even with the noise his friends were making, Daichi’s head was still in the situation he was in a hot second ago. He suddenly realized the time when Suga would purposely leave him and Michimiya alone when they were talking, even dragging Asahi away from him—despite his confusion. His mind also wandered off to the time when Karasuno and Shiratorizawa played each other for the Spring Qualifiers, and how Michimiya gave him a charm. His reminiscence even took him as far back as middle school, when he and Michimiya first met and got closer to each other.

‘Why did I realize this just now?’

Those three years of junior year, and an additional three years of highschool. That’s six years in total. That’s how long it took him to realize that he, indeed, likes Michimiya.

“...chi. Daichi!”

“Huh, what?” he absentmindedly asked, turning to face his friends; a fuming Sugawara and a scared-looking Asahi, holding back the former.

“You idiot, why didn’t you run after Michimiya?!” Sugawara exploded, eyebrows knitted.

“S-Suga, give it a rest,” Asahi interjected unsurely. “You’re just asking to get bitten.”

Daichi casted a glare at Asahi, which made him flinch. Sugawara ignored the two, and placed his index finger in Daichi’s chest. “Everything that I hold from now on reeks of dumbass energy.”

“And everything that I look at is stupid,” he retaliated, staring down at Sugawara, who boldly stared back—even glaring. “Why’d you care, anyway?”

“For being a team captain, you sure are being careless right now,” the vice captain shot back immaturely, not wanting to back down.

“What’s that have to do with this?” Daichi asked in disbelief.

“Because! A leader has to be responsible and cleans up every mess being made!”

“We’re outside of the club! We’re graduating soon!”

“And so? That doesn’t deny the fact that you’re still Captain!”

‘Jesus, they’re like Kageyama and Hinata,’ Asahi thought, now letting go of Sugawara and standing in an awkward middle.

Asahi opened his mouth, wanting to stop their fight, but Daichi beat him to it and said, “It’s not like I’m not going to go after her, anyway. I’m just... thinking.”

“Wow, you sure are smart,” Sugawara commented sarcastically. “What, gonna think hard enough for her to magically run towards you?”

“Shut up,” Daichi growled, making Asahi cower. “I’m just... I wanna say the right words to her,” he added with a sigh. “I know... I’ve been dense and all—“

“That’s hardly news,” Sugawara butted in with a snicker.

“—but I think it’s about time I make it up to her,” Daichi continued. “I always had this gut feeling that she liked me, but I discarded those thoughts even way before I could even think about it deeper. And it’s not like I could ask her about it so casually, y’know?”

“But if you had the idea, wouldn’t it be better for you to clear it up?” Sugawara mused. “I mean, I’m surprised how you can disregard thoughts like that so easily. If it were me, I’d think about it for a week!”

“Oh, like how Shimizu held your hand?” Asahi perked up. “She’s really unpredictable.”

“Yeah, but she’s kinda like a sister to me now,” Sugawara immediately replied. “And I’m pretty sure she’s like the female version of Daichi. Unbothered by her fans.”

“Heard that,” Kiyoko spoke, suddenly appearing behind the three. “What’s with the serious talk?”

“Daichi’s got love problems,” Asahi explained. “Now, he’s conflicted about it.”

“Ah, no wonder why Michimiya look troubled earlier when I passed by her,” Kiyoko commented. She placed a hand on Daichi’s shoulders and demanded seriously, “You should go after her.”

“That’s what I’m gonna do, just dunno how I’m supposed to approach her,” Daichi said with a sigh, slumping his shoulder. “These things aren’t fit for ‘casual talk’ you know?”

“But you can casually cheer her up, can’t you?” Kiyoko pointed out. “That must mean a lot to her.”

“Yeah, but... this is ‘love’ we’re talking about,” Daichi countered. “It’s a gamble saying things recklessly and complacently just because I can expect something from her. I’ve only realized I like her a few minutes ago, but what if it isn’t en—“

“Just hearing you worry is enough proof that you’re sincere with her.”

They all fell silent when Kiyoko pointed that out, to which made her laugh.

“C’mon now, don’t start wimping out,” she said with a grin.

“Shimizu... I owe you a ton,” Daichi said sincerely, tapping her shoulder. “I gotta go, then,” he announced, turning his back on his peers. He started jogging away from them, raising a fist and grinning widely at his friends—his clubmates who stuck with him and the team for the past three years.

They raised their fists back, not minding Sugawara saying, “He doesn’t even know where Michimiya went.”

‘This is my last year of highschool, and it’s possible that we might never see each other again. If I screw this up, I’m done for,’ Daichi thought, repeating it over and over again as he combed through the entire campus and asking a few third years he could recognize. Eventually, his legs led him to gymnasium one, where squeaks and balls hitting the wood floor can be heard.

He slowed down his pace from a jog to a brisk walk, peaking between the open space of the steel door. He saw the basketball team with their passing drills, and on the other side is the girls’ volleyball team with their receiving drills. He suddenly remembered his own team, suddenly remembered the same determination they all shared even when it seemed like the whole world was against them.

“S-Sawamura?”

“Oh!”

Daichi almost tripped over the flights of stairs when he suddenly heard Michimiya’s voice from behind him. He had to subtly clutch his chest out of fear before facing her, and before he knew it, he had to clutch it again.

‘She’s so damn gorgeous.’

“Uh, hi,” Daichi greeted awkwardly. “I was, erm... looking for you.”

It was just one sentence; one that Yui heard a lot from Daichi over the past six years, but it had a different impact this time around. It was a cold February, and Daichi stood there in the warmth of his jacket and scarf, and the growing feelings he had for Michimiya that had seemed to triple each passing second he spent staring at her.

“O-Oh, what’s up?” Yui asked, trying to be casual, but her heart was beating loudly and frantically, as if it were going to pop out of her ribcage.

“This past six years... you always heard me out, I could confine to you whenever I had troubles—although often it was the other way around—and overall... you’ve been a big help. I don’t even know where to start because I’ve probably done a lot of awful things that seemed normal and right to me,” Daichi rambled. “I’m just—I realized something, you know? Something that’s a given, but something that I didn’t realize sooner.”

It was a cold February. The air was ringing and it was hard to breathe, layers and layers of cloth still can’t mask the coldness of two degrees Celsius and not moving for even a second can make you frozen solid. However, with each words Daichi spoke, Yui felt warm.

“Sawamura...”

“I like you, Yui... and I’m sorry that I hadn’t realized it sooner. I’m sorry for wasting six years,” he breathed out.

It was winter when Sawamura Daichi confessed his love to the person who has been in love for him for a long time. Compared to him, her love was way heavier, it was deeper and it was more intense. Suppressing it for a long time, then off to sending signals only to be ignored, then making efforts for him; Yui did so much for Daichi, not minding that it wasn’t possible even in the slightest for him to reciprocate it or to even notice it in the least.

But they’re here now, standing one meter apart and feeling the warmth of their hearts overpower the coldness of Japan. Until the very last minute, Yui was convinced that she doesn’t have a chance, as Daichi thought that he probably wouldn’t be given a chance.

But here they are now, with no gaps between them, bodies connected and pressed against each other gently, her slender hands wrapped around his back firmly and face buried in his chest, hot tears flowing down the sides of her eyes.

“Y-You dumbass...” she choked out, voice muffled, “W-Why...”

Daichi chuckled quietly, burying his head on Yui’s shoulder, gently caressing her hair. “I’m really, really sorry, Yui...”

“You don’t have to say sorry,” she replied back almost immediately. “Whatever you have to give, I’ll accept it wholeheartedly.”

“In that case, I’ll start giving you only the best, then.”

It was winter when Sawamura Daichi and Michimiya Yui finally, after six years, met an understanding and their hearts started to stand in the same path. For years, it’s always been Yui staring at Daichi from afar, only wishing to see him up close where they could walk away from that stranded spot together. When that day finally came, it wasn’t them walking away together; they stayed in the same stranded spot, hands clasped, leaning against each other as they send warmth to the other.

It was winter, but it didn’t feel too cold like the past six years. It was winter, and it was warm.

I hope you liked it! Hehe 💓

[new-sandrafilter]

True Romance: Saoirse Ronan and Timothée Chalamet on reuniting for Little Women

They may be posing in an airy lower Manhattan studio, but Timothée Chalamet and Saoirse Ronan have a way of making you feel right at home. “I made a little playlist this morning,” Chalamet announces to the room. He syncs up his cell phone to the sound system, his boyish grin widening as Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” starts blaring. He returns to the camera, which snaps him and Ronan at a furious pace.

It’s their first joint cover shoot. He’s wearing a shimmery striped shirt with high-waist trousers; she’s rocking a shirtdress, fishnet stockings, and clear stilettos. He keeps cracking her up; she musses his hair with doting affection. During a break that follows, he wanders, gripping a paper bag stuffed with assorted bagels — from Tompkins Square Bagels, which Chalamet, a lifelong New Yorker, insists are the best in the city — and offering one to anyone in his path. He sings and dances — very Elio-in-the-town-square-like — to Bob Dylan’s “Tombstone Blues.” He creeps behind a distracted Ronan before spooking her with a yelp. “I didn’t even know you were there!” she exclaims, reddening from the fright but with a smile so lovingly at ease, you sense she’s used to the prank.

They’ve known each other, after all, for some time. About three years ago, Ronan, now 25, and Chalamet, 23, met filming Lady Bird, Greta Gerwig’s solo directorial debut, in which Ronan’s irrepressible heroine (briefly) romances Chalamet’s douchey amateur musician. They reunited with Gerwig last year, on the heels of Lady Bird’s Oscar-nominated success, for a bigger undertaking: a remake of the oft-remade Little Women (Dec. 25). Ronan and Chalamet slipped into the roles of tomboyish Jo March and buoyant Theodore “Laurie” Laurence, best friends who ultimately break each other’s hearts. Their courtship ranks among American culture’s oldest tales of unrequited love — made indelible by Katharine Hepburn and Douglass Montgomery, Winona Ryder and Christian Bale, and so many others — yet finds, in the hands of two of the most compelling actors of their generation, galvanizing new life.

That goes, in fact, for the whole of Gerwig’s Little Women. Her version certainly contains the snow-globe coziness of treasured adaptations past, but also carries a fizzy emotional authenticity and attention to detail. The film is remarkably lived-in, too: This take on Louisa May Alcott’s 1868 novel, which follows Jo and her three sisters pre– and post–American Civil War, feels plucked straight from the text in the best way, with siblings fighting like siblings, love and loss and hope and pain vividly experienced on screen.

Ronan and Chalamet’s charming big sister–little brother dynamic is not unlike the one that Jo and Laurie share in Little Women. Watch the actors play off one another, and the film’s tender realism clarifies itself: Their on-camera intimacy is just as palpable behind the scenes. Indeed, after shooting Lady Bird for a few weeks, the pair hung out regularly over the next year, making the awards-circuit rounds and scoring lead-acting Oscar nominations — Ronan for Lady Bird, Chalamet for Call Me by Your Name — before swiftly signing on to Little Women. In advance of filming in Concord, Mass. (the actual setting of the book), Gerwig and producer Amy Pascal gathered the large production’s cast and crew for rehearsals at a house just outside the town. For Ronan and Chalamet, the contrast between this and their early Lady Bird days was immense. “I felt very prideful… about how big it had gotten, how many people were there,” Chalamet recounts. “On Lady Bird it was, like, 25 people hanging out in a house!”

They fell back into each other’s rhythms instantly. “He keeps me on my toes — I’m never quite sure what he’s going to do next,” Ronan says. “That only progressed more and grew more. It helped that we do have a very natural rapport with each other…. These two characters physically need to be very comfortable with one another. They’re literally intertwined for half the film.” Chalamet adds: “In the least clichéd way possible, it really doesn’t feel like [I’m] acting sometimes [with her].”

Chalamet credits Gerwig, too, for establishing a playful, comfortable atmosphere. He thinks back to his first day of rehearsal: He reunited with Ronan. He introduced himself to Emma Watson (who plays the eldest March sister, Meg). He was guided into a third-floor conference room of a “random building” where, “all of a sudden, there was a full dance class going on.” He recalls fondly: “Everyone breaks down and becomes a little kid. This job is so trippy in that regard — you want to be serious, you want to be professional, and then it’s almost best when you’re able to be 12 years old. When it’s someone you’re actually friends with, it makes it easier.”

Ronan smirks, gearing up for a jab: “We’re not friends!” Delighted, Chalamet keeps the bit going. “We’re not friends,” he says, solemnly. For once, they’re not very convincing.

Greta Gerwig doesn’t remember a time before she knew Jo March. “[Little Women] was very much part of who I always was,” the writer-director, 36, says. “It was something my mother read to me when I was growing up. It’s been with me for a very long time.”

She joined Sony Pictures’ new Little Women adaptation when she was hired to write the script in 2016. Once Lady Bird bowed the next year, she emerged as a candidate to direct the film. “Greta had a very specific, energized, kind of punk-rock, Shakespearean take on this story,” Pascal says. “She came in and had a meeting with all of us and said, ‘I know this has been done before, but nobody can do it but me.’” She got the gig.

In her approach, Gerwig drew on her lifelong relationship with Little Women; beyond childhood, she discovered new, complex layers to the novel, and in turn to Alcott’s legacy. “As a girl, my heroine was Jo March, and as a grown lady, my heroine is Louisa May Alcott,” she says. It’s perhaps why Gerwig’s Little Women feels like the most adult — and modern — version of the story that’s reached the screen to date. The movie begins with the March sisters in adulthood — typically where the narrative’s second half begins — and unfolds like a memory play, shifting back and forth between that present-day frame and extended flashbacks to the childhood scenes etched in the American literary canon.

In that, Gerwig finds fascinating, fresh areas of exploration regarding women’s lives: the choices society forces them to make, the beauty and struggles of artistic pursuit, the consequences of rebellion. Jo’s journey as a writer anchors Gerwig’s direction; tempestuous Amy (Florence Pugh) gets more of a spotlight as she matures as a painter (and Laurie’s eventual wife); and Meg is realized with newfound nuance: “We felt it was important to show Meg juggling all her roles — a mother, a wife, a sister — whilst also celebrating her dreams, despite them being different to those of her sisters,” says Watson. But Gerwig doesn’t see herself as reinventing the wheel. “A lot of the lines in the film are taken right from the book,” she explains. “When Amy says, ‘I want to be great or nothing’ — she says that in the book! I don’t think we remember that, but she does say it.” Gerwig also loves one line spoken by the sisters’ mother, Marmee (Laura Dern), also revived in this version: “I’m angry almost every single day.”

Gerwig compiled a “bible” filled with cultural references: to Whistler tableaux of family life, to David Bowie–Jean Seberg hairdos that inspire the look of Jo’s mid-film cut, to Alcott family letters. “I wanted it to be footnote-able,” Gerwig says. “I wanted to point to it and say, ‘This is where this is from.’” She considers Alcott’s text sacred: “I wanted to treat the text as something that could be made fresh by great acting.”

Beyond those charged but less quoted Little Women lines are its famous ones — throw-pillow staples like Jo’s “Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” that no adaptation is complete without. The actors rehearsed these “almost like a song,” pushing to move through them with a rapid musicality. “We [read] the book out loud,” says Dern. Gerwig expected the script’s words to be memorized precisely. “I knew I wanted them to get this cadence that felt sparkly and slightly irreverent,” she says. “I wanted to make them move at the speed of light.”

She poured the same love into iconic scenes, like Jo and Laurie’s ebullient dance that follows their first meeting. Here it goes on longer — and more vibrantly — than in any previous iteration. (Ronan says they filmed it at 3 a.m., to boot, adding, “We must have done it, like, 30 times.”) Then there’s the devastating moment when Laurie asks Jo to marry him and she rejects his proposal. Gerwig tasked the two actors to unleash here. “Emotions just bubble over,” Ronan says. “[Greta] just let us go with it, wherever it went, from take to take. What I loved about that scene is that every take would be different emotionally. It didn’t have the same trajectory.

“The two of us, it’s a relationship I have with no other director,” Ronan continues. “She makes me feel like I can try anything.”

As Ronan and Chalamet emerge from their photo-studio dressing area in impossibly chic new ensembles — she donning a form-fitting knit sweater, he a silky, ruffled top — their creative energy fills the space. They try out different poses, debating concepts and ideas with each other on the fly; at one point he wraps his arms around her waist, and she quips to no one in particular, “We’re expecting our first.” Camera snap.

They’re modeling a new brand of movie stardom — pursuing projects with a point of view, adamantly being themselves in the public eye, subverting gender norms. Their androgynous fashion performance here reflects their wardrobe shake-ups in Little Women: Gerwig and Oscar-winning costumer Jacqueline Durran (Anna Karenina) had the two actors swapping clothes throughout filming, to reinforce the masculine-feminine fluidity between Jo and Laurie. “They are two halves,” as Pascal puts it. “These are really bold characters that are really different than you’ve seen them before.”

And just as Gerwig expressed a need to direct Little Women, Ronan knew in her bones she needed to play Jo. She’d first encountered the story via the 1994 film when she was 11, and later read the book, feeling an immediate kinship with the young woman she’d come to portray. “When Louisa describes Jo, it felt like someone describing me physically: sort of gangly and stubborn and very straightforward, and went for what she wanted.” At an event for Lady Bird, she — in a very Jo kind of way — just “went at it” by approaching Gerwig. “I said, ‘So I want to be in Little Women, but only if I’m playing Jo.’” (Chalamet, for his part, was asked by Gerwig, “Hey, want to do another movie?” He responded: “Yes. Yes, please.”)

Over months of living in Concord with her castmates, Ronan discovered new depths within herself: “Jo’s ethos is ‘Everything everyone else is doing, I’m going to do the opposite.’ [I had] to try things that I’d never tried before. Be a bit messier with a performance.” Gerwig set up etiquette lessons for the cast; whatever the instructor said (“Don’t shake hands! Don’t gesticulate with your arms!”), Ronan made sure to ignore it. She speaks now of this as freeing, even transformative. “I felt like I had tapped into something I’d never gotten the opportunity to tap into before, or I just didn’t have the guts to tap into myself,” she says. “Finding that was just amazing.”

Shortly after wrapping Little Women, she filmed Wes Anderson’s next film, The French Dispatch — marking her third time costarring with Chalamet, who plays a central role. As for now? Ronan is taking a little break. “I’ll wait for the right thing to come along,” she says. “It’s lovely to be in a position at this moment where I can wait for the absolute right thing.” Same goes for Chalamet — he shot Netflix’s The King (out Oct. 11) right before Little Women and just completed production on Denis Villeneuve’s Dune adaptation. “It’s the first time in almost two years I’ve gotten a breath, so I’m savoring it.”

It’s been a long day. They’re back in comfy clothes; Ronan is taking a late lunch. It feels like both actors — as another whirlwind of acclaim and press and romance-shipping awaits — are at a kind of peace, exhausted but satisfyingly so. Little Women is the biggest movie either has done to date; more attention, as they inhabit such revered characters, is sure to follow. “I just haven’t thought about it that way,” Ronan admits. “Maybe because it’s just Greta — even though it’s on a much bigger scale, she wanted it to feel like Lady Bird.”

Ronan understands the timeless power of Little Women, of course: “It’s as important to tell Little Women right now as it would be at any point in our lifetime.” She points to this pop culture climate of “celebrating female friendships and sisterhood,” and continues, “It’s a story that’s full of love. That will always be relevant.”

She turns toward Chalamet, and you realize the love they brought to Alcott’s classic is what first blossomed between them on Lady Bird. “I love that in Lady Bird, you broke my heart,” she says to him softly. “In Little Women, I got to break your heart.” (Chalamet, ever the goofball, finds an obvious opening: “Yes, that’s true. Then I married your sister. Ha, ha, ha!”)

If this all sounds a little idyllic, well, neither actor — nor Gerwig, nor Pascal, nor the rest of the cast — can do much to convince you otherwise. Shifting back to Little Women’s timelessness, and reflecting on Ronan’s comments about it, Chalamet says, “I don’t know how to add to that.” Instead he turns back to his costar, his expression suddenly sincere, filled with gratitude. “But if I can add one little dose of information,” he says with a nervous laugh. “And not just because she’s sitting next to me.” He credits Ronan with bringing that “timeless energy.” He says “thank God” they were able to make the movie. “It’s so rare with Saoirse — I’m so f—ing grateful to get to work with her,” he says. “Whatever book I write for myself when I’m older, to look back on —” He stops himself. “Well, this is a bigger conversation.”

But Ronan, chuckling, doesn’t let him off the hook. “Will I have, like, a chapter?” And Chalamet laughs — another opening, another chance to act with his greatest scene partner, to see what journey of creation and discovery they’ll go on next. “A chapter of Saoirse,” he says.

At this rate, one chapter won’t suffice.

[delightfully-difficult-pirate]

CS JJ Day 27: My True Love Gave to Me (1/1)

A/N: This began life as a Secret Santa gift, but I had to abandon it halfway through when my first giftee went AWOL and it didn’t fit the desires of my new giftee.  However, I really enjoyed this story and decided to finish it as my entry for this year’s @csjanuaryjoy!  Thank you so much, mods, for organizing this event and facilitating all the joy!  This a small, Christmas-time, neighbors AU and I hope you enjoy!

AO3

                                                        ~*~

       Emma Swan knew that she tended to be a bit of a Grinch during the holiday season. She’d spent too many Christmases watching happy families celebrating while whatever foster family she was with barely acknowledged her existence with gifts of second-hand clothes to develop the warm, fuzzy feelings people associated with the season. Not all of the families were like that, of course, but few had bothered to put real effort into presents.  Only Ingrid, the woman who had tried desperately to adopt Emma but was denied by the state, had ever given her gifts that really meant anything when she was young.

      She spent Christmas with her chosen family of friends now and had received a plethora of thoughtful gifts, but she still hadn’t been able to bring herself to really care about the holiday.

      Given her general disregard for winter festivities, it was quite a shock to come home one day and find that her apartment, in which she lived alone, looked like the Christmas aisle of a department store had exploded inside of it.

      Soft blue lights twinkled in her windows and garland hung from almost every available shelf or ledge. The side table by her front door now sported a festive red and green quilted runner and a reindeer shaped dish held the miscellaneous change and spare key that usually were strewn haphazardly on the table’s surface. With a sigh, she dropped her keyring with the others.

      Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, Emma proceeded into her home. A tree, an honest to god real tree, now dominated one corner of her living room.  Gold tinsel and bright, colorful lights wrapped around it and simple round ornaments of red and silver hung from the branches. Her heart dropped, just a little, when she saw that there were no gifts piled underneath.

      There was, however, a nutcracker sitting on her coffee table, and a small cat asleep on the back of her couch.  

      “Killian, you asshole,” Emma growled.  The cat’s presence revealed the identity of the orchestrator behind the home makeover.

      Now awake, the cat, a lovely calico named Tinkerbelle, stood, stretched, and jumped off the couch to rub herself against Emma’s ankles.  

      “Tink, did you help your owner with this… this… travesty?”

          The cat just stretched and rubbed herself against Emma’s pant legs. With a chuckle, Emma lifted the interloper and settled her against her chest.  That elicited a loud purr and a head-butt against her chin.  

      Tinkerbelle belonged to Emma’s upstairs neighbor and friend, Killian Jones.  The day he’d moved into the third floor, Tink had shown her displeasure at the move and escaped.  Emma, just home from grocery shopping, heard a very irate “Bloody hell!” echo down the stairwell before a small ball of fur ran right into the bags she had set down on the landing in order to unlock her apartment door.  After a quick scramble and a few scratches, Emma had extracted Tinkerbelle from the bags just as a sweaty man came bounding down the stairs after her.

      Emma held out the hissing cat as she asked, “does this belong to you?”

      “Aye, that she does.”  With a sigh, he had taken the pissed off cat and held her firmly against himself with one arm.  The other he held out as he introduced himself as Killian Jones, her new neighbor.

      “Emma Swan.” She shook his offered hand.

      She’d stared in shock as he lifted her hand and placed a quick kiss on the knuckles.  

      “You have my thanks, Emma, for your assistance. May I offer you an IOU for a drink, for some time in the future after I have unpacked?”

      Emma blinked before finally replying, “That isn’t necessary.”

      “Maybe not, but the offer is open.  I will let you know when my apartment is fit for company.” With that, Killian had made his way back up the stairs and Emma had to scold herself for admiring the way his jeans hugged his backside. The man had just moved in; she shouldn’t be ogling him like a teenager.  Even if his accent sent shivers down her back.

      Eventually she’d taken Killian up on his offer of a drink. That had led to more drinks, casual dinners, and nearly three years later, Emma considered him one of her closest friends.  He was the one that had her spare key and watched over her apartment when her work as a bail bondsman took her out of town.  A trust she was now rethinking since he’d apparently used the privilege to infest her apartment with holiday cheer.

      Emma cuddled Tink as she wandered her apartment. The kitchen wasn’t too bad; a few towels decorated with snowflakes and a snowman shaped cookie jar were the only new additions she could see.  The guest bathroom, however, nearly burnt her eyes with how much red and green was packed into the small space.  There was a new Santa toilet cover with a matching bathmat.  The hand towels looked like the bottom halves of elves and her simple soap dispenser had been replaced with a Christmas tree one.  

      Blessedly, her bedroom and attached bathroom had been spared the Christmas invasion.  Killian obviously knew better than to mess with her private space.  

      Tinkerbelle jumping from her arms and Emma heard the squeak of her front door’s hinges.  The culprit returning to the scene of the crime, she thought, as she heard Killian chuckle when Tink greeted him with a meow that seem far too loud to have come from the cat.

      “I know, it’s time for dinner,” she heard Killian matter-of-factly tell Tink. “I just need to add the finishing touch to the tree.”

      Realizing Killian didn’t know she was home, Emma toed off her shoes and softly walked to spy out the bedroom door.  Wanting to remain hidden, she used the reflection in her TV to watch Killian. He had a simple box, which he laid on her coffee table.  Whatever item he pulled out was too blurry to make out clearly, but she surmised it was some time of tree topper as he stretched to reach the top of the tree. She risked a real look as he fiddled around behind the tree a bit and saw that it was a gold star.  She swiftly ducked back into her room when it illuminated, Killian having finished plugging it in.

      “There,” she listened to him say.  Tink meowed in reply.

      “Alright, fine.  Let’s get you some food.” With that, Killian collected the empty box, scooped up his cat, and left her apartment, locking the door behind him.

      Once he was gone, Emma stood in her living room and gazed at the tree.  It was, she realized, the first Christmas tree she’d ever had. That thought immediately brought tears to Emma’s eyes, which she roughly wiped away.  She didn’t need a tree; especially not one that was going to shed pine needles all over her floor for the next few weeks.

      Later that night, when Emma went to turn off the lights before heading to bed, she couldn’t help but admire how lovely it looked in the dark room.  As she lay in bed, she sent a text to Killian.

Thank you.

                                                         ~*~

      Three days later, Emma noticed that the Christmas tree in her living room had gained some ornaments.  Where before there had only been classic glass bulbs, there were now wooden figures nestled amongst the branches.  All of them were birds of some type, which Emma found odd.

      Three looked like chickens. Four were small, dark birds.  Two were obviously doves and the last was an odd looking bird with stripes on its wings that had a pear dangling by the stem from its mouth.  

      Emma held the pear-holding bird that she had found near the top of the tree in her hand.  Something about the bird felt familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t until she was placing it back in the tree that the answer hit her like a ton of bricks.

      It was a partridge.  Holding a pear…

      A partridge in a pear tree… well, a pine tree, but the connection was there.

      Two turtle doves.  Three French hens.

      And a quick google told her that the fourth gift in the 12 Days of Christmas song was either “calling” or “colly” birds, deepening on the version, and that colly was believed to refer to blackbirds, which were dark like “col”, the Old English word for coal.

      Leave it to Killian, an English Literature professor, to give her a gift that involved Old English.

      Pulling her phone out, Emma autodialed Killian’s number.

      “Evening, love,” he answered.

      “If you keep breaking into my apartment, I’m going to make sure that Santa leaves only col in your stocking.” She put extra emphasis on the word col.

      She could hear him laughing in the apartment above her.

                                                       ~*~

      As expected, Killian did not stop adding more decorations to the Christmas tree.  The next day brought five gold painted rings, followed by six geese with eggs.

      On the seventh day, Emma found more than just seven wooden swans a-swimming on her tree after returning home.  A new picture frame adorned her wall, containing a collage of pictures of Emma herself swimming.  Or at least interacting with water.  She didn’t think that sitting on the side of the pool with only her feet in the water really counted as swimming.  Most were from that summer, when Killian had been her plus-one at a friend’s wedding in Cape Cod.

      In one, which she couldn’t remember seeing before, she was “manning the helm” of a sail boat with Killian standing behind her, his hands on hers.  Killian had insisted on renting a small sailboat while they were out of the city so that he could show her the joy of sailing.  Emma smiled as she remembered how he’d gently guided her movements and ensured she didn’t kill everyone on board.

      Well, he was supposed to be keeping an eye out for any possible dangers, but in this specific photo, Killian wasn’t looking at the waters around them.  Instead, his attention seemed to be solely on herself.  He was smiling, but it was… different.  It seemed softer, somehow.  In fact, his entire expression reminded her of the ones she usually saw on the face of her best friend’s husband, David, when he was in awe by how much he loved the woman before him.

      Emma stepped away from the picture, her heart pounding. She had to be reading too much into a simple facial expression.  There was no way Killian was in love with her.  He would have told her if he was.  Probably with a poem.

      Or by breaking into her apartment and recreating an old Christmas carol.

      “On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me…” Emma sang softly to herself.

      Before she could stop herself, Emma ran upstairs to Killian’s apartment.  It was only when Killian open the door in response to her insistent knock that she realized she had no idea what she was going to do.  So she did the first thing that came to mind, which was to grab fistfuls of his shirt, drag him toward her, and hope the kiss she gave him conveyed what she couldn’t put into words.

      He responded instantly. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him.  She followed when he began to slowly step back into his apartment, only to find herself pressed against the door moments after it was closed.  Emma couldn’t help running her hands through Killian’s impossibly soft hair as the kiss deepened.  

      It was Killian who managed to regain control of himself first, pulling away from the kiss and resting his head against hers.

      “Emma… I…” he began.

      Emma smiled.  “I know.”

[manage-mischief]

Picture Prefect

Read on AO3 here. 

Author’s Note: So, I’m not really sure I ship Dramione. At least, not in an endgame type of way. But, this idea came to me while rereading Harry Potter for the umpteenth time. I think there definitely could have been more to Draco’s character than was in the books/movies. I felt like it would be interesting to understand Hermione’s relationship to him, and that there was likely a bit of romantic tension/pining that may have been behind some of Draco’s actions/motivations. You know what they say about little boys and pulling girls’ pigtails on the schoolyard. Anyways, this takes place during OoTP, before Dumbledore leaves. This is also my first FF, so I’m still learning. I’ve just always thought about writing something but have been too nervous before now. Any kindfeedback or reviews would be appreciated. Thanks in advance :)

Disclaimer: I’m not J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.

Summary: Hermione goes on evening patrol with Draco Malfoy and things progress quite differently than expected. Secrets, lies, and broom cupboards may be involved.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we,” she sighed as she descended the stairs and laid eyes upon her patrol partner for the evening.

He gave a noncommittal grunt in return. Uncharacteristically pleasant this evening, she noted. Without a word, the pair set off past the Great Hall and got to work.

When Hermione had first discovered she was going to be a prefect for Gryffindor House last summer, she had been thrilled, but not surprised. She had top marks in all of her classes, and a (mostly) clean disciplinary record. Sure, she, Harry, and Ron had had a few run-ins with the wrong side of the law. Still, there was, at least in her humble opinion, no one more qualified for the job. When she found out that Ron would have the job alongside her, she had been that much happier. During the celebration held at Grimmauld Place, she had never felt prouder. Yes, she was an intelligent girl. Yes, she had even scored a date to the Yule Ball with internationally-renowned quidditch seeker Viktor Krum (and had especially enjoyed the look of jealousy and disbelief on Pansy Parkinson’s face, she might add), but this accomplishment somehow carried more weight for her.

Being muggle-born, she knew that there were some who viewed her as unworthy of Hogwarts. Some would even go to unspeakable lengths to try and force her out of the wizarding world—as she had learned the hard way during her bout of paralysis-via-basilisk during her second year. But, here she was: the top of her class, muggle-born prefect. The prefect title meant something. Anyone in her world could understand the accomplishment, and no one could deny her the honor that the title bestowed.

Ok, maybe she was a bit over-enthusiastic about the role. It did seem that, most of the time, she was nothing more than a glorified hall-monitor. Yet, she wore her badge with honor. And, as she and Ron strode towards the Prefects Compartment on the Hogwarts Express on her first day she felt that nothing could have lowered her spirits. That is, however, until she saw him. Her new colleague, leaning against a table with his usual, haughty, I’m-better-than-you-because-I’m-pureblood air, his blond hair standing out in stark contrast with his dark robes with emerald green accents. Draco Malfoy.

And so, this is how she ended up on evening patrol on this otherwise wonderful night with a boy who was, in her opinion, one of the rottenest snakes to ever roam the halls of Hogwarts.

The first time she had met Draco had been on the Hogwarts Express during her first year. Bright-eyed and bushy-haired as ever, Hermione had hugged her parents goodbye and wandered onto the magical locomotive, anxious yet elated. She had been thrown into the magical world so fast. One minute, she had been running from bullies in the park by her house as they called her a freak. The next, she was meeting with a stern-but-kindly witch who explained to her that she was talented and special. Hermione was determined to learn as much as she could about her knew world as fast as she could, so she would be able to prove herself at school. Once she set her mind on something, nothing could stop her.

Armed with countless wizarding books and a new bank of knowledge, she confidently strutted into a train compartment and took a seat. She cheerfully introduced herself to the three other young wizards already occupying the space. The others followed suit. Two large, intimidating boys introduced themselves as Crabbe and Goyle. She was pretty sure those were last names, but had a feeling that prying for more information would be futile, seeing as they had both grunted out one-word answers to her questions and then looked away. They did not seem very bright. The third boy had brilliant blond hair and smiled in a way that made her blush slightly in spite of herself. “I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy. It’s a pleasure,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

Draco had been overly friendly to respond, and all too eager to converse with Hermione. They asked each other about their wands, their favorite shops in Diagon Alley, and the classes they were most excited to take. “I can’t wait for Transfiguration. I know it’s one of the more difficult branches of magic, but it seems quite fascinating,” Hermione blabbered on cheerfully. She had been very proud of herself for holding her own during this conversation. Her reading and preparation had paid off! Draco seemed to have no idea she hadn’t grown up in a wizarding household.

He smiled at her. “Well, I hope we’re sorted into the same house. It’ll be a shame if I can’t spend any more time with you in the future.” Hermione again blushed. She kind of liked Draco’s cockiness and confidence. “So,” he continued, “where d’you want to be sorted? I know where I’ll be…Slytherin. My family has been in Slytherin for generations,” he remarked, haughtily.

“Oh, I’m not sure I have a strong preference. Although, Gryffindor seems like it would be a good fit. Or Ravenclaw. I guess we’ll see,” Hermione said.

“Where were your parents when they were here?” Draco asked, eagerly.

“Oh…well…they didn’t go to Hogwarts,” Hermione replied. She didn’t know why she didn’t reveal that her parents were Muggles. She wasn’t the least bit ashamed. But, something about the boy’s mention of his Slytherin family heritage made her wary. Hadn’t she read somewhere that Slytherins were obsessed with blood purity? Surely that was ancient history. It couldn’t mean this boy believed that only pureblood witches and wizards were worthy of magical education, right? After all, with such a small portion of the population having magical blood, there must be hardly any purebloods left!

“Oh, so they went somewhere else? Ilvermorny? Durmstrang? My father wanted to send me there, says Hogwarts’ Headmaster is an old crackpot…”

“No, no. They didn’t go to any magical school. They’re muggles,” Hermione interrupted. Immediately, the tone of the conversation took a sharp turn. Crabbe and Goyle both stared at her as if she had grown an extra head. Draco sat up straighter in his seat, and where before there had been a playful look in his eyes, there was now only wide-eyed fear and accusing. “So, tell me, what makes you think you’re worthy to be here, talking about magic to me and my new friends, when your parents are so backward they probably can’t even tell a wand from a stick in the mud?” Draco sneered at her. His two cronies sniggered. Hermione knew she was not welcome anymore. She shot out of her seat, determined not to cry, and stormed out of the compartment. She could hear Draco’s voice in the distance as she quickly scampered away, fuming. “Well, boys, glad we got rid of her, eh?”

Of course, leaving that compartment was the for the best. She had met Neville and, not long after, her future best friends, Harry and Ron. Luckily, not all wizards were as closed-minded as Malfoy had been. She had not let him get to her, and since then, had outperformed him in every class. Still, she always found it strange to reflect back on the one pleasant conversation she had had with him and relate that cute, smiling boy to the absolute toe-rag she knew today.

Speaking of today, it was getting late, and Hermione was becoming fed up, fast. Her and Malfoy had only been patrolling for half-an-hour, yet it felt as if it had been an eternity. They walked in silence, keeping at least a foot’s distance in between them at all times. The corridor was silent. It was shaping up to be a long, dreadfully boring night.

They reached the first-floor bathrooms around 11 o’clock. “I’ll check the girls and you check the boys,” Hermione broke the silence. Malfoy rolled his eyes and sarcastically replied, “no really Granger? What an ingenious idea.” She simply shook her head and went to check for students out of bed. The bathroom was empty.

“Nothing in there.” She saw Malfoy emerge from the boys’ loo across the hall. “Same here.” On they went.

Half of their shift had now passed, and all they had seen was a sleepwalking Ravenclaw first-year, who Hermione had gently guided back to bed. They were passing by the statue of George the Smarmy when suddenly, she heard footsteps. She paused and cocked her head.

“C’mon Granger,” Malfoy sighed. “It’s probably Filtch and Mrs. Norris.”

“Hush!” Hermione hissed. It most certainly was not Filtch. The footsteps clicked, making it clear their owner was wearing high heels. They were approaching fast. She couldn’t ignore her gut feeling that something was amiss. But, what was it? Why did the footsteps sound so familiar to her? “Have you lost your marbles? Let’s go! It’s a professor or someone! Nothing we have to worry about!”

Aha. It was a professor. Of course. That’s why Hermione recognized the footsteps immediately. She could hear in them the haughty sense of purpose that made her loathe Defense Against the Darks Arts classes daily. Umbridge. Just as she could hear the toad-like professor approach their corridor, another pair of footsteps sounded in the distance. Umbridge must have been meeting someone. But who, at this hour?

She didn’t know why she did it. Perhaps it was because she was on edge from all of the secrecy surrounding the DA. Perhaps it was because of the wrenching feeling in her gut that Umbridge was up to more than she let on here at Hogwarts. But, no matter the reason, before she knew it, she was grabbing Malfoy by the front of his robes and pulling him into the nearest broom closet.

“What the bloody hell, Granger?!?” he hissed indignantly. At least he had the sense not to shout. Otherwise, their cover would have been blown. “What’re you playing at?”

“Be quiet,” she shushed him promptly. Quickly, she pulled out the pair of extendable ears she kept hidden in her pockets. As much as she hated to admit it, Fred and George had really hit the mark with their creation. She always kept a pair with her, and had found them to come in handy on many occasions. As she fiddled with the device, Malfoy continued to look at her, wide-eyed. “What the hell are those?!”

“Extendable ears, now, HUSH!” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “Extendable what?” “Ears. They let you listen in on other peoples’ conversations without getting caught. Now please kindly shut up so I can hear what’s going on!”

“…in this time of night. I wanted to do this privately. Most students use this corridor to snog without getting caught, so I thought it would do the trick.”

Umbridge’s girly voice echoed. Malfoy was still staring at her with a look of pure confusion.

A private meeting. But with who?

“Of course, Dolores. Do you have any updates?”

The second voice belonged to a man. She knew she had heard it before. But…it couldn’t be…

“Oh my god,” Malfoy whispered, now seemingly as invested in the conversation as Hermione had been. “What’s Fudge doing here?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Fudge. The Minister of Magic. She was sure glad she had had the sense to hide in the cupboard, even if she was a little too close to Malfoy for comfort. She couldn’t have had him running away and blowing her cover.

The pair of them remained quiet, now both eager to hear what was going on.

“Well, Cornelius. I’m afraid matters at Hogwarts are far worse than we feared.”

“How so?”

“Well first of all, there’s the Potter boy. He and his little friends seem determined to undermine my authority at every turn! He has no respect for the Ministry. Always going on about You-Know-Who despite my countless warnings and punishments!”

There was heavy silence for a moment before Fudge spoke again.

“And do the other students believe him?”

“Some do. Others think he’s gone mad. Most don’t know what to think, and it has been hard for me to convince them to take our side, despite our efforts to disparage him in the Prophet.”

“Surely these students have more sense than to believe the word of a 15-year-old boy over the Ministry and the Prophet! Why are we having such difficulty keeping this under control? I thought I could trust you to handle this, Dolores.”

“I…I am doing all that can be done! But that’s the thing. It isn’t just Potter who has been proclaiming the story that You-Know-Who has returned. It’s Dumbledore, as well. It is not so easy to discredit the Headmaster in the Prophet. He is too well known and well respected. Students love him. Which is why I am proposing that we focus our efforts on a new plan.”

“Yes?”

“Removing Dumbledore from this school, and making me Headmistress.”

“That is quite easier said than done, Dolores. You said it yourself, Dumbledore has the respect of the student body, as well as most of the parents, I might add. Implicating him in illicit activity to remove him from Hogwarts will be extremely difficult.”

“We almost got Potter, this summer.”

“Yes, and the fact that those Dementors even showed up in Little Whinging was a happy accident! How can we expect something like that to happen again?  And at Hogwarts, no less?”

“Yes…a happy accident…well. I shall keep my eyes open for any ‘accidents’  that will allow us to relieve Albus from his post. In the meantime, you’d best be heading back to London. It is getting late. But I promise you this, Cornelius. Come hell or high water, I shall make sure Albus Dumbledore never sets foot in this school again. You can count on me.”

“We’ll see, Dolores. Have a good evening.”

Their footsteps echoed down the halls and disappeared into the night.

“I can’t believe it,” Hermione exclaimed. “That conniving little…”

“Blimey Granger. I thought you were intelligent!” Malfoy rolled his eyes. She glared daggers at him, daring him to continue insulting her. He sighed, “Of course the Ministry’s trying to oust Dumbledore! Fudge is scared of him. He thinks Dumbledore’s going to take his job.”

Hermione was taken aback at his words. She had known this information, of course, thanks to her months of living with the Order. Still, she was surprised that Malfoy knew this information, and that he had been so willing to admit it. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Draco couldn’t have come across this information by himself. What was his shifty father telling him?

“Like you even care,” Hermione tersely responded. “You and your father have been trying to get rid of Dumbledore since the day you arrived here! And probably before! You’d just love old Umbridge to become Headmistress and become her little pet.” Ok. Tirade over. Yelling at Malfoy, while satisfying, wasn’t going to do her any good. Hermione knew they should be continuing their patrol. Plus, she wanted to return to the Common Room and fill Harry and Ron in on the evening’s events. Hopefully they’d still be awake…

“You always think you know me, but you don’t.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione whipped her head towards him just before she was about to exit their cramped hiding spot. Had she heard correctly?

Malfoy gave a sad sort of grunt. He hesitated for a moment, as if considering whether or not he should continue. Hermione continued staring at him intently. She was mystified.

“You and your little Potter Protection Squad. You all always think you know me, know my story, know my life. ‘Oh, Malfoy hates everything good. He’s always out to ruin things for us. He’s a jerk. He’s the enemy. He’s evil,’” he mimicked her in a high-pitched voice. Hermione couldn’t speak, still baffled. He continued.

“For your information, I detest Umbridge just as much as you do. I just know how to be subtle about it. And I know my place. I know what happens to me if I don’t get on her good side. You wouldn’t understand. You’re from a muggle family.”

“You know what, Malfoy? I am absolutely sick and tired of you bringing up my parentage. I have as much of a right to be here as you! And I understand plenty, thank you very much! I am top of our class and work hard to prove myself to intolerant people like you and your family every single day! Don’t you forget you were impressed by me when we met on the Hogwarts Express first year! Impressed by more than just my knowledge of the wizarding world, I might add!” She spit back, her breath labored from the force of her outburst. She could feel her cheeks flushing. It had been an unspoken agreement between them to never mention their first encounter. She could see his face tint red as well.

He stared at her for a moment. Then, without warning, grabbed her by both of her arms and turned her so they were face to face, which was quite cramped due to their inopportune hiding place. His gesture was not threatening, however. He looked sad.

“You don’t understand. I…I sometimes envy that you’re from…well…your background.” He huffed. “I mean being a Malfoy is an honor. People envy me.” His voiced switched back to the shaky timbre it had been. “But…there’s certain…expectations. My family is one of the greatest pureblood lines in wizard history. Malfoy and Black. We have a reputation to uphold. My father reminds me of that every chance he gets.” His face darkened. “I have to hate Dumbledore. I have to be friends with people like Crabbe and Goyle. I have to suck up to Umbridge and support her for headmistress. You don’t understand what happens if I don’t.”

Hermione continued to stare at him. She blinked, trying to understand why and how Draco was capable of showing such vulnerability with her. He searched her face, almost desperately, for a reaction. Hermione softened her face. Perhaps there was more to him than she thought. Maybe he just needed someone to listen. When he realized her receptiveness, he spoke once again.

“Everyone in my family expects me to be like my father. Become a…” he stopped himself. But she knew what he would have said. “Well, become like him,” he carefully worded. “No one has ever asked me what I want to do. And I can’t tell them. I can’t tell my family to shove it…that I don’t want to be part of their circle! That I’m terrified of what’s coming and of what I’ll have to do!” Draco’s voice broke. Hermione remained silent, entranced. Without thinking, she took his hand gently. They both looked down at their hands, now touching. When he spoke again, he refused to meet her gaze.

“My parents were part of an arranged marriage. Even their lives weren’t their own. Everything…every bloody thing that’s ever happened in my life and before has been about blood purity. About money, and power, and respect. They expect me to uphold that tradition. I’ll marry a pureblood girl. I can’t object. I’ll be disowned. Banished. Burned off of the family tree for even thinking about, as they call it, ‘tainting the bloodline.’” He sighed once more. He finally brought his eyes back to meet hers. His stare was intense and a bit frantic. Hermione felt her heart pounding in her chest and her cheeks growing hot. Who was this boy, and what had he done with the tosser Draco Malfoy? At least she knew how to deal with him when he was being a jerk. But this? This vulnerable Draco standing before her? Her brain could not figure him out.

His voiced softened further. “I’m sorry I’ve called you names. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I truly am.” And then, it rose once more, “But don’t you understand? I have to act this way! You terrify me, Hermione. And…that just…can’t happen. I…I don’t have a choice.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The pressure in her chest was too much to bear.

“Draco. Everyone has a choice,” she whispered, softly, her eyes still locked on his.

He swallowed. Then, he leaned forward, slowly. She could feel her own body move towards his in response. Her heart pounded and her mind went blank as she felt his strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her into a kiss. She pressed into him, her body moving with his in a passionate dance. He ran his hands through her hair. She could feel her pulse rising, heat surging through her body. The pair continued hungrily for a few more moments. Then, as if on a timer, they both regained composure and pulled back from each other, panting. Hermione smoothed out her hair. Draco fussed with his now-disheveled robes. They regarded each other once again, neither sure what to say to the other.

Hermione blinked in a vain attempt to regain focus. She couldn’t deny that had been the most passionate kiss she’d ever received, including those from Viktor—who had more than once professed his love for her. But, she thought to herself, that will never excuse his behavior. He had humiliated and degraded her, time and time again. The names he had called her were almost unforgivable. Had he changed? She couldn’t be sure. But, one late-night encounter in a broom closet was far from enough proof for Hermione. After a few moments of silence, she realized he was waiting for her to speak. To say something about what just happened. Her mind was still racing too fast to latch onto a single thought.

“I’m sorry about your family Draco. That sounds very hard.”

Oh, if she could have kicked herself in the moment! Sorry about your family?!? That sounds hard?!? She felt like a proper wanker! What an idiotic response to what had just happened!

“I wish things were different,” he replied. This shocked her.

“Are you saying you want to be with me?” She inquired.

“I’m not sure,” he answered, almost inaudibly, sheepishly running his hands through his hair.

“Draco,” she sighed. This was all too much information for Hermione to handle. “I’m not sure, either. Thank you for apologizing for calling me those awful names…but…I’m not sure that’s enough. You just said it yourself. Your family life is complicated. I’m sorry. If you ever want to change, to escape, I will be here for you. And, I may even want…this…too. But, I won’t be the girl who you degrade in public and then snog in a broom closet when no one is watching. I don’t deserve that.”

Draco simply stared back at her for a long time. She could tell he was thinking. Would he really say he wanted her? Would he really change? Would she really want to be with him, even if he did? Ugh, Harry always said girls were confusing, but she was beginning to think that boys that were really the ones who were bonkers!

Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke once again, “I’m sorry. I just…” he shook his head. He glanced towards the door. “We had better finish patrol and then head to our dorms.” Under his breath, Hermione heard him mutter, “I have a lot to think about.”

Unable to form any intelligible words, she just nodded her head. The pair emerged from their cupboard and set off back down the corridor, as silent as before. When they finally parted for their respective common rooms, they met each other’s gaze once again. Draco smiled softly, “Goodnight, Hermione.”

She gave a tentative smile in return. “Goodnight, Draco.”

As she entered the Gryffindor Common Room, she was deep in thought.

“Oi, Hermione! You’re back late,” Ron shouted to her from the table in the corner, on which Harry and him had stacked piles of books and essays. In the back of her mind, she mentally rolled her eyes. Of course, they hadn’t finished their homework.

“Was patrol with Malfoy as awful as we thought?” She gave a noncommittal sigh which Harry took for annoyance. “That bad, huh? What a git,” he shook his head. He and Ron then launched into a conversation about how much they hated Draco Malfoy. Hermione did not listen. She was still deep in thought, her thoughts swimming as if she were looking at them from the surface of a pensive: slippery and liquid and not quite fully formed.

“You alright, Hermione?” Ron asked, snapping her back to reality.

“Fine,” she answered half-heartedly. “Just dead tired. I think I’m going to head to bed.”

She climbed the stairs to the 5th year girls’ dormitory, and told herself she would tell the boys about Umbridge’s conversation in the morning. Right now, she was too preoccupied with thoughts of a certain Slytherin prefect to think about anything else. As she crawled into bed and closed the curtains of her four-poster, she found herself clinging to a small bit of naive hope. It did seem like Draco was serious when he kissed her. Maybe, just maybe, people could change for the better, even people as entrenched in the pureblood movement as Draco Malfoy.

She should have known it was silly to hope for such things.

[taetaespeaches]

“You look so cute covered in flour.”

Seokjin x Reader genre: fluff word count: 1.9K

a/n: Here we are, my lovelies. The last fic of this little Christmas universe, or as some of you have dubbed, the LWU (cuties). This one is just Jin and reader making Christmas cookies together before their Christmas party It turned a bit steamy and honestly, I think that’s just Jin’s affect on me. Hope you don’t mind ;) and I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading! :))

ALL you could do was stare at your boyfriend with an amused expression as he showed you his self-proclaimed “great” purchases.

Leaning against the counter, you held back your giggle as Jin showed you the brand new Christmas-themed aprons, a wide smile on his face. “You get this one,” he winked at you, blowing you a kiss, making you roll your eyes as you cracked a smile.

The apron, your apron, simply said “I’m Santa” with a picture of Santa winking. Stepping towards you, Jin handed you the apron before slipping his own over his head. Standing proudly in front you, his hands on his hips, you finally allowed yourself to laugh, looking at the apron that had a plate of cookies on it with a glass of milk and said, “I put out for Santa.”

Turning around, he looked back at you cheekily asking you, “Tie me up?” Scoffing, you placed your apron over your forearm before grabbing the ties on his apron and securing it at his back. “Watch it, love, I just might take you up on that,” you teased.

When you finished tying the ties in a neat bow at the bottom of his back, you patted his hips, letting him know you were finished. You then put your apron on, wrapping the ties around your waist and securing it at your abdomen.

“Ok, so we need flour, baking soda and powder, sugar, eggs, butter, and vanilla,” you thought aloud as you zoomed around the kitchen gathering the ingredients. “Did you preheat the oven?”

He hummed in response as he fished through the container of cookie cutters, looking for the Christmas and winter themed ones. “I want to make lots of snowmen,” he told you. “They’re the most fun to decorate.”

You smiled at his comment as you pulled out the last of the ingredients. “Lots of snowmen it is,” you told him. He’s so cute.

As you stared at the ingredients, figuring out where to begin, Jin stepped behind you, kissing you on the cheek. “What do you need me to do, darling?” He whispered in your ear.

“Do you want to do the dry ingredients? Or do you want to cream the butter and sugar together?” You asked him, turning towards him and placing a kiss to his jaw.

“Mmm,” he thought, being as extra with his decision making as he could be. “Hmm,” he continued.

“Oh jesus, just cream the butter,” you giggled. “We need two cups of that butter,” you pointed at the softened butter that sat on the counter, “and three cups of sugar.”

He nodded, grabbing the butter and going to the mixer. “Yes, Madame Baker,” he dubbed you, making you roll your eyes though you sported a fond smile.

“Once that’s creamed, add in the eggs and vanilla,” you told him, Jin humming in acknowledgment as he measured out the butter and sugar.

You began working on mixing together the flour and other dry ingredients as Jin started the mixer up. When you finished with your task, you made your way to Jin, preparing to mix the dry ingredients with his wet mixture.

“That goes in here?” He asked, to which you nodded.

“Yeah, we’ll add it slowly,” you told him as you poured some of the flour mixture into the butter.

Suddenly, Jin startled you with an excited “Oh!” making you pour a little too much of the flour in than you would have liked.

“Jin, what the hell?” You lighty scolded him.

“We need music,” he told you, giggling at your angry expression. “We’re making Christmas cookies and we have Christmas aprons on and we’re throwing a Christmas party in an hour,” he told you. “We need Christmas music.”

With that, he walked over to his phone, starting up a random Christmas playlist, “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” playing through the speaker. He’s really cute.

Jin wrapped his arms around your chest in a back hug as you finished mixing dough. He stayed like that, swaying your body with his as you formed the dough into a ball. And still, he stayed like that even when the song changed to “White Christmas” and you were spreading flour on top of the kitchen counter before retrieving a rolling pin.

As you began rolling out the dough, Jin’s hands clasped overtop yours as you both moved the pin back and forth. He occasionally placed sweet pecks to your cheeks and neck.

“Ok, love, grab your cookie cutters,” you told him, taking his hand in yours and bringing it to your lips to place a lingering kiss to the back of it. He spun you around, kissing your lips chastely before backing away and grabbing the cookie cutters.

You both continued dancing a little as you cut out snowmen, snowflakes, Christmas trees, and more snowmen, placing them onto the baking sheets.

Sticking them into the oven, you put eight minutes on the timer. “Ok, frosting,” you started only for Jin to grab your hand and toss some flour onto you, mostly hitting your chest but some specks landing on your face.

You gasped, a big smile forming immediately as you shot a warning look at Jin. “You really wanna do this?” You asked him. “I think you may be picking a fight you and I both know you won’t win.”

Jin smirked at your words, sticking his hand back into the flour bag nonchalantly as you watched him coolly. Raising his hand, he began sprinkle it overtop your head, the flour snowing over you, coating your hair in white.

You bit back a smile as you glared at him. Then quickly, you grabbed the bag of flour off the counter and in a few quick movements threw a handful directly at Jin, a bunch smacking him in the face as he dramatically complained instantly.

“Oh, now you’ve done it!” He jokingly yelled, grabbing you around the waist as you turned around to run away.

Lifting you up, he spun you around, some of the flour from your hair falling to the ground in a light dust. You squealed, giggles pouring out from your lips.

When he set you down, he spun you around and pushed you against the counter, pinning you between him and the stone surface. You gently wiped some of the flour from his face before locking your gaze with his adoring one. As you smiled at him, he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss.

Your lips moved with each other as he deepened it, allowing a bit of space between you, just so he could lift your frame on top of the counter. His hands found your jaw as he stepped between the v of your legs, your tongue swiping over his bottom lip before you gently took it between your teeth in a nibble.

Jin moaned into your mouth as your arms grabbed onto his sides, pulling him even closer to you. One of his hands moved to your thigh, squeezing the flesh greedily.

“Jin,” you mumbled against his lips, “frosting.”

Your boyfriend briefly took his lips from yours, making you chase them as he smirked. “I saw some in the cupboard,” he told you, referring to the store bought icing before kissing you again.

As the kiss got more and more heated, Jin slowly brought his hand from your thigh to your abdomen, untying the apron. As you smirked into the kiss, the oven timer went off, interrupting the direction you and Jin were taking things. “Fuck,” you complained, resting your forehead against his cheek, making your boyfriend chuckle against the shell of your ear.

Hopping off the counter, you reluctantly slipped away from Jin’s body, checking the oven to find perfectly baked sugar cookies. “Can you get the icing, Jinnie?” You asked him as you removed the cookies from the oven.

Jin chuckled, shaking his head, silently admiring and cursing your sudden self-control.

Over half of the cookies frosted and decorated, the tension ceased to leave the room. In fact, the tension didn’t even diminish a little bit as you frosted the cookies, Jin decorating them with various sprinkles and candies.

You could tell Jin was becoming increasingly impatient as he started tossing sprinkles onto the cookies carelessly.

“Seokjin,” you whined with a giggle at his poor decorating.

“Why does it matter what they look like? We’re just gonna eat them anyway,” he grinned.

Rolling your eyes for at least the third time that evening, you paused your decorating, positioning your hip against the counter as you turned towards your boyfriend.

“How do we even know if this frosting is good?” You posed the question as you stuck a finger into the tub. Jin’s eager gaze watched as you brought your finger towards him. “Can you test it for me?”

“Love, we already put it on over half the cookies,” his lips curved upwards as he teased you. “We’re almost finished decorat—”

“Jin,” you scolded, making him smirk.

Opening his mouth, he brought his plump lips around your finger, sucking gingerly. “Mmm,” he hummed. “So good.”

“Yeah?” you grinned. “Not as good as I would have made though, right?” You teased.

“Oh of course not,” he agreed. “You’re the queen of icing.”

“Let me taste,” you said as you placed a hand at the back of his neck, leaning forward to meet him in a kiss. “Mmm, good indeed,” you hummed against his lips, Jin chuckling in response. When he kissed you again, the doorbell suddenly rang, causing you both to look at the clock.

It was ten minutes until 8 pm, and your first guest had just arrived. You looked around the kitchen, taking in the disarray you two had caused by your brief flour brawl.

“Well, fuck,” you huffed, Jin cackling in response. You both zoomed around the kitchen, Jin using the microwave door as a mirror as he wiped the rest of the flour off. You quickly got the broom, sweeping up the piles of flour on the floor.

“I gotta answer the door, love,” Jin smiled widely, you squealing in response as you quickly did a shoddy job of cleaning up.

“Ok, ok, ok, go answer the door,” you giggled, Jin laughing loudly as he left the kitchen to greet whoever was at the door.

You giggled once again when you heard him yell out a, “Hey there! Come on in!” You heard Namjoon’s girlfriend apologize for being early and you decided to greet her, despite knowing you looked amess.

Waving, you smiled warmly though your eyes probably conveyed chaos. “Hey girl, make yourself at home,” you told her. “Namjoon on his way?”

She mumbled something about him being at the studio as she went and sat on the couch, pulling out her phone.

Jin, all smiles, walked towards you with a shimmy of his shoulders. Reaching you, he dusted the flour that remained in your hair, despite your hurried efforts to shake it all out.

“You look so cute covered in flour,” he cooed, you slapping his hands away with a big grin of your own. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you into a hug as he nuzzled his face against your neck.

“I love you,” he whispered against your skin. “Do you know how much?”

Smiling, you nodded, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. “Yeah, of course. Enough to clean the kitchen later,” you grinned, kissing his lips sweetly.

As he stared at you, his lips curved up into a fond smile as he shook his head, you added a “Love you too, Jinnie,” pecking his lips once more.