#but then again i won 3 straight times before so it was a reckoning

[letsgauxplay]

dr. zayne, i love you and all, but i already have your cozy afternoon card. 😡😡😡

dun cockblock me and birthday fish 😩😩😩

[seidenbros]

Breaking the Ice - Chapter 1

Pairing: Wylan van Eck x Jesper Fahey Summary: When Hockey star Jesper Fahey is knocked unconscious during a game, he is out for weeks. Once back on the ice, his coach Kaz Brekker teams up with figure skating coach Inej Ghafa to bring him and figure skating talent Wylan van Eck together, because he'd come back from a very bad injury before, and they think these two can learn from each other. What neither of them know is what happened between them a few months back at a Charity Gala. Or, well, nearly happened. Misunderstandings are pretty much inevitable, especially because they don't really talk to each other properly. What is undeniable, though, is the attraction between them. Will they be professional enough to ignore this, or will the sparks between them begin to melt the ice more and more? And of course, there is also Jan van Eck, hockey legend, praised by many, but hardly anybody knows what it really was like for Wylan to grow up in the van Eck mansion - and what his father did to him even after he moved out.

Warning/Tags: POV Jesper Fahey, POV Wylan van Eck, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Figure skating, Hockey Coach Kaz Brekker, injuries, Jan van Eck is the scum of the Earth, sexual content, implied child abuse A/N: HELLO! It's finally time to post this, because I can't keep it to myself anymore. This Hockey/Figure Skating AU has been in my head for a long time, because I love both sports, and I think they fit these two so well. There will be some more explicit content in the later chapters, which you don't have to read, if you don't want. I'll make a note at the beginning of the chapter, and give the parts a different text colour or divide it from the rest of the text some other way. It won't affect the story, and it's not like these are whole chapters, just parts of them. I hope I can stick to my schedule with posting a chapter every Friday, so you know you can expect that. I also hope I managed to explain certain terms when they pop up, so they don't stop the reading flow (though with the jumps in figure skating, I didn't explain them in detail) Special thanks go out to @taylacosplays @shog_draws @shippoutsy and @saskia_s89 (all of them on Instagram) for reading this when I started with the first two chapters and giving me their opinion, because I was so unsure about this. You're the best! So, now, I hope you enjoy 💚

Read on AO3

“Fahey to Helvar, moving past Bukowski, back to Fahey. He shoots… and scooooores! Goal for the Ketterdam Crows!”

“Sharpshooter does it again and scores his second goal of the night.”

“It’s certainly a great start to the season for the Crows.”

“Especially after that crushing end in the playoffs last season.”

“True. But it seems like they did their homework in the off-season.”

“I sure hope so, because I’d love to see a lot more of that.”

The first game of the new season was a huge success for the Ketterdam Crows, who won the game 3:2, with two goals from Jesper Fahey and one from Matthias Helvar. Helvar’s offensive line had the team captain in the centre, Jesper on his left wing and Tolya Yul-Bataar on the right wing. They were a force to be reckoned with. At least they were that now again, but at the end of last season, a lot of their team had played with injuries, and they’d been exhausted - and that had shown. In the third round, they hadn’t even won one game. Jesper had wanted to play despite two broken ribs and the third time he’d gone down, he’d been out for good.

That alone had crushed him, and he’d spent the first part of the off-season far away with lots of alcohol until his coach, Kaz Brekker, had personally dragged him back home. Oh, he’d gotten the lecture of a lifetime when Kaz had set him straight and told him that he’d been drinking too much, and the time for wallowing in self-pity was over. Jesper had needed that, because he knew that he could get distracted from what was really important quickly, and hockey was important to him. As were the people on his team, and so he’d been back for the first training session, even if he’d been a little hungover. Kaz hadn’t said anything to him then, and the game today had shown that they were all taking the game seriously. They were paid a lot of money, that much was true, but it was something they loved, something they wanted to excel in.

With the first game out of the way - and a successful one at that - they were all in a good mood to take part in the Charity Gala the following day. It was a big event that was held once a year at the beginning of autumn, and Jesper had been looking forward to it ever since he’d gotten his ticket. The tickets were expensive of course, but that was only because that was one way of gathering money for charity. Another way was an auction that took place in the evening after the dinner itself. The Crows were contributing a training session with the whole team as well as being on the bench for the next home game. Jesper quite liked that, because it was always nice to see some happy people who really enjoyed that.

Jesper opted for a dark blue suit for the night, a black button down, topped off with a tie in the same colour as the suit - Nina his physiotherapist had chosen that one for him, because to an event like this, he couldn’t go without a matching tie. He wasn’t a big fan of them, but he had to admit that they completed the look. Once it got later and the official part was over, he was sure that it wouldn’t be a problem if he either took the tie off or at least loosened it. Before that, he’d have to talk to a couple of people, smile for the camera, and enjoy a five course dinner menu that he was really looking forward to.

“I’m on my way downstairs,” Jesper said into his phone the moment he picked it up. Kaz had put Matthias up to picking Jesper up for this, so he wouldn’t be late. It was just a safety measure, but it had still made Jesper roll his eyes.

“Alright. You’re sitting in the back, Nina’s already with me.”

“Woah woah woah hold on.” Jesper stopped in his tracks, reaching for his wallet. He took one last look in the mirror and grinned at himself before grabbing the keys. “Our Nina?”

Nina Zenik, physiotherapist not only for Jesper but for a couple of guys on the team. Jesper liked her a lot, and not only because she was good at her job. She didn’t back down from anyone and handled the locker room talk without a problem. Hell, she even managed to get the guys to blush with the way she talked, and Jesper loved to see it. The two of them were able to talk about pretty much everything, even stuff that had nothing to do with hockey. He’d known that Matthias hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her for a while, so he was glad that he’d finally asked her out.

“I told you that I’d bring a date.”

“Mhm, could have just mentioned who your date was.”

Jesper hung up the phone and put it in his pocket. After making sure that he had everything he needed, he headed out the door and took the elevator down. Matthias’s car was waiting right outside the apartment building where he lived, so he could get inside immediately.

“Hello gorgeous, nice to see you here,” Jesper said with a grin from the backseat as he reached his hand out to the front to squeeze Nina’s shoulder gently.

“I see you stuck with the tie I chose for you,” she said as she turned around to him with a smile on her lips. She really did look absolutely stunning in a red dress that hugged her curves and matched the colour of her lips. She was stunning, and Jesper really hoped she wouldn’t eat Matthias up and spit him out when she was done with him. He may be a big, buff guy, who could throw a punch and had the hardest and fastest slapshot in the league, but Jesper knew how fragile his heart was, and that it took him some time to open up. The fact that Matthias was taking Nina out, and to an event where everyone would see them together nonetheless, really had some meaning.

When they got to the location, Matthias’s car was parked for him. Sometimes, this still felt strange, but at an event like this, it was part of the whole experience. Jesper looked up at the tall building and took a deep breath before he followed the other two inside. In the entrance hall, there were already some decorations as well as guideposts. He knew that the Charity Gala was held at the top floor of the building. He’d been there once, so he knew that they’d have a beautiful view over the city and the harbour, though Jesper was rather sure that there was more than enough to catch his attention and keep him from going to the window front to stare outside.

Once they stepped out of the elevator at the top, they were greeted with a glass of champagne each, before they were shown the seating plan. It was kind of interesting to read all the names, figure out who else was here, and especially who they would be sharing a table with.

The name van Eck made his eyes widen slightly. Jan van Eck was a hockey legend, and as a child, Jesper had been looking up to the man, as had a lot of other players. Most of them probably still did, but not Jesper. After he’d met him once a couple of years ago, when he’d just started playing for the Crows, he’d been so arrogant and condescending, and he’d told Jesper that he didn’t think he had it in him to play in the big league. Well, being here and being a very valuable player for his team, proved that man wrong. It would be very satisfying to be sitting at the same table as him. There was also his son, Wylan van Eck, who was a talent on skates as well, but not in hockey gear. No, Wylan was making money as an extremely good figure skater. Jesper had seen him practising once, not so long ago. He’d spent quite some time in the fitness room at the rink and everyone else had already left. He’d needed this to clear his head, and after a long, hot shower, he’d wanted to head out, when he’d heard music coming from the rink. Curious, as he always was, he’d gone over there and had seen Wylan van Eck on the ice, skating, or more like dancing to the music. Even without seeing his face straight away, he’d known that it had been him. Wylan van Eck had a very distinct way of moving, pure elegance wrapped up in one person. It always looked so effortless when he moved over the ice, as if he was flying. The only thing that had destroyed that idea, had been the swish swish of his skates on the ice. Jesper had watched him, completely enthralled, until Wylan had spotted him. He’d stumbled a little, but hadn’t fallen, and Jesper, feeling responsible for that, had quickly turned around and left the building. He’d felt like he shouldn’t have seen any of that, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Well, tonight he’d get the chance to talk to him for the first time. He just had to watch out that he didn’t stare at him, because Wylan was beautiful, almost had something ethereal to him. But that might still be better than doing or saying something stupid, which could always happen with Jesper. He’d try to behave tonight.

The food was incredible and the live music accompanying the dinner fit rather well. Not that he’d listen to piano versions of songs in his free time, but it fit the atmosphere here, and anything louder would definitely be too much. After all, there were conversations at the table as well, and Jesper tried to follow them, though he had to admit that it was difficult to listen to anyone else when Jan van Eck overpowered everyone with his voice. That man really thought he was the most interesting person anyone could ever meet, and it was annoying to say the least.

His eyes landed on his son, who didn’t look up to his father or even listened. In fact, when his voice got too loud or he laughed unexpectedly, Wylan winced or rolled his eyes. It wasn’t obvious to everyone, but Jesper paid close attention - despite telling himself beforehand that he wouldn’t. Wylan was way too fascinating to not look at him, and when their eyes met, Jesper couldn’t help but smile, no matter that Wylan quickly averted his gaze again and looked down at his plate to concentrate on his food.

“Hm?” he asked as he turned to Matthias who had just said something to him, but Jesper had been too preoccupied with the man  across from him.

“I asked what you were looking at.”

“Nothing in particular.” Oh, he’d definitely not tell Matthias that he’d been watching van Eck’s offspring, because he might never hear the end of it.

“Mhm, sure.” Maybe, Matthias didn’t believe him, but at least, he didn’t pester him with any more questions. Nina may have had something to do with this when she reached for his hand and cradled it in her own, beaming up at him.

Jesper finished off the last bits on his plate, before he looked over at Wylan again. It had gotten a bit quiet at their table, because van Eck was talking to his son, making sure that nobody could overhear them. There was something in Wylan’s eyes that made him wonder what this was about, but it certainly wasn’t a friendly conversation. That proved to be true, when Wylan got up a little too quickly, his chair almost falling backwards.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Wylan said to the people at the table, a polite smile on his lips as he showed them his empty glass. Jesper figured that he’d need something a little stronger than the champagne they were serving here.

Jesper kept an eye on him, while pretty much everyone else at their table hung on Jan van Eck’s lips again - except for Matthias and Nina who were deep in conversation by now. Just like he’d expected, Wylan ventured to the bar, but he didn’t just get a drink, he got comfortable on one of the barstools. Without rethinking this, Jesper got up, excused himself, and followed him. There was enough room at the bar, and they only had dessert left, which would take a moment to be brought out, considering that most people were still eating.

Jesper stepped up next to where Wylan was sitting and placed his elbows on the bar. While he saw Wylan turn his head towards him in the corner of his eye, he kept his eyes on the bartender, who walked his way as soon as Jesper smiled at him.

“What can I get you?”

“A Spellbound for me, please, and one for him as well.” Jesper nodded towards Wylan with a grin, and the bartender just nodded and got to work.

“I… already have a drink,” Wylan said a little confused, turning more towards Jesper, who was now turning to face him as well, leaning with his hip against the bar.

“I know, but I think you’ll really like this one. And I think you might need it.”

“What makes you say that?” He got a little defensive, his back straightening and Jesper could see that he was wearing suspenders beneath that nice black jacket he was donning. Interesting.

“Saw the way you were looking at your Dad, so… you might need more than one drink.” Jesper shrugged his shoulders, knowing that he’d just implied that he knew who Wylan was. It wasn’t a secret after all. The lopsided smile he got from Wylan in turn definitely had its effect on him, drew him in even more, and instinctively, he inched a little closer.

“Very observant, and also very, very right.” Wylan downed the drink that had just been put in front of him, making Jesper widen his eyes.

“That bad, huh?” Jesper raised his eyebrow, but there was still the hint of a smile on his lips.

“You have no idea. But I’d rather not spend time talking about my father here.”

“Yeah, I can think of better things to talk about than him.” Rolling his eyes, Jesper cast a quick look in the direction of their table, before he focused on Wylan again. “I’m Jesper by the way.”

“Oh, I know.” Wylan smiled at him and it lit up his whole face, now that they weren’t focusing on his father anymore.

“Do you now?” Jesper let his eyes roam over his body, starting with the shoes that went perfectly with his black suit, over his legs and his waist up over his chest and the bowtie that perfected the look until he reached his lips, lingering there a moment too long, before their eyes met again. Wylan’s were framed by long lashes that would make anyone jealous.

“I mean… of course. I know who plays hockey here.” The way Wylan’s cheeks started gaining colour betrayed how nonchalant he wanted to be.

“Aww and here I thought you may have looked me up.”

“Maybe I did.”

“Now, it’s getting interesting.” Jesper took another step closer, but then the barkeeper brought their drinks and Jesper quickly paid for them. He handed one of the drinks to Wylan and held up his own glass. “I hope you’ll like it, but it’s really good.”

“And the colour goes well with your suit,” Wylan observed, making Jesper laugh out loud at that. It was so random in a way, so refreshing, that it was amusing in the best way.

“Yeah, you got a point there. Cheers.”

“Cheers and thank you.” Wylan took the first sip of the drink, humming happily at the taste. “Oh yes, this really is amazing. You have great taste.”

“And not just in drinks.” Jesper winked at him, before he hid his smile behind the glass while taking another sip. It was wonderful to watch Wylan’s reaction to everything he said and did. It only spurred him on to get to know him even better, maybe tease him a little more.

“Is that so?” Wylan asked, sizing Jesper up, and he had to admit that he straightened a little under his gaze, put out one leg and pushed his free hand into his pocket. He hadn’t expected Wylan to say something like this, and he quite liked this duality he was showing. For a moment, he cursed the dress code here, because he’d usually have a few buttons at the top undone and the tie in his pocket, so Wylan would have at least something to look at, but it seemed like he was rather interested in what he was seeing as it was.

“Mhm, maybe I can prove that to you somehow.” Some motion at their table caught his attention again, and he looked over. They were motioning for them to come back, since dessert was being served, even though some people had just now finished the previous course.

“This is too pretty and good to down, no matter what my father will say when I come to the table with anything but champagne or whiskey.” Wylan rolled his eyes and hopped down from the barstool, his glass still in hand.

“Does he ever shut up? I feel like he loves hearing himself talk.” Jesper pulled his hand from his pocket and put it on the small of Wylan’s back to slowly guide him to their table again.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Wylan shook his head just slightly, but put a smile on his lips again as they kept walking.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t listen to him anymore, so I hope the dinner is over soon, so we can leave the table again. If you need saving from them, just let me know.”

“Thanks. That’s very kind of you.”

“And save me a dance later, will you?” Jesper had to shoot his shot right now and hope for a positive reaction, because he still wanted to get to know him a little better. And he’d get him away from his obnoxious father.

“I will,” Wylan said with a smile in Jesper’s direction, before he had to move around the table to get to his chair. It was fascinating and a little concerning how Jesper could immediately see the change in Wylan’s face as soon as he was close to his father.

But that dance never happened, because Wylan left the table after dessert and another drink. Jesper could see his father holding onto his wrist tightly, trying to keep him in place, but Wylan said something to him and ripped his wrist from his grip, before he got up and swiftly made his way out of the room.

Jesper didn’t hesitate a second. He got up and didn’t even say goodbye to Matthias and Nina - who were pretty much occupied with each other anyway, so he doubted that they realised that he was leaving, or maybe just thought that he got up to get some fresh air or something of the like. Good for him and good for them, because it showed just how well they were getting along.

On his way out, Jesper managed to grab a bottle of champagne while nobody was looking. It wasn’t exactly like he was stealing it, since the champagne was free, part of the menu they’d paid for, but some people would probably not be that happy if they saw him leaving with the bottle.

Once outside the ballroom and in the hall, he saw Wylan step into the elevator. Jesper had to jog over there to catch the closing doors so they opened again for him. Wylan was leaning against the wall on the other side, but immediately looked up when the doors opened again. With a smile on his lips, Jesper stepped inside and held up the bottle.

“Couldn’t let you dash off all by yourself.”

[toacollabevent]

Ten Duel Commandments (for fighting a giant snake)

 One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.

 Nine was the amount of hours that heathen, Python, was chasing my beloved sister and mother.

 It’s the ten duel commandments. It’s the ten duel commandments.

Ten hours it took for me to make my decision and fight that snake myself.

 Number 1.) The challenge, demand satisfaction. If they apologize, no need for further action.

 I wasn’t going to go attack a snake who regretted his actions. That’s how gods get vaporized. So, I went to the cave Artemis talked about.

 Now, call me stupid for going straight to the possibly murderous snake’s turf, but what other choice did I have? Attack a poisonous snake that was terrorizing both multiple twins and my sister and mother? Actually, yeah, that sounds smarter, but I know etiquette, even whilst four days old.

 "Python! I request an audience!“ I yelled into the mouth of the cave where Python resided.

 Nothing happened for maybe a few minutes. I was just about to leave when an earthquake occured. Nope, not an earthquake, for the cause of the ground shaking was coming for me. It was Python.

 I was regretting every life decision I made, and I was born four days ago so there wasn’t a lot of them. Then again, I was conscious in the womb and cursed pretty much every town that denied to help my mother. So, maybe there were a lot of them.

 "What?” he said. The snake was concise, for once.

 I somehow found the words. “I declare a one-on-one fight.”

 "For what purpose?“

 "You harassed my mother and sister.”

 "How do you know that they deserved it?“

 Now, that was too far. He certainly deserved what ever was coming towards him. No apology would ever defend him from my wrath.

 Number 2.) If they don’t, grab a second. Your lieutenant, when’s there reckoning to be reckoned.

I left, thinking about the many ways to skin a snake whilst alive. This is how I know that the minds of children are weird.

 I made it to Delos, greeted by the flowers that were rooted when my sister and I were born.

 I found Artemis throwing sand in the ocean. I have no idea why.

 "Sister, may I request something of you?”

 She raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

 "So, I may or may not have decided to fight Python,“ Artemis looked at me as if I signed a death warrant, which I probably did. "I know, it was a dumb idea but if I lose, I want you to finish the fight.”

 Artemis took a minute to think about it and slowly nodded. Since another snake didn’t go ahead and try to kill me the minute I won against Python, I assume he doesn’t have friends to lean on.

 Number 3.) Have your seconds, meet fact-to-face. Negotiate a peace, or negotiate a time and place.

 I had no idea that asking Artemis to kill Python if I died would make her try to negotiate with said Python. But, here we are.

 When she came back, all she said was. “His cave. Just before sunrise.”

 This is common place, ‘specially 'tween recruits. Most disputes die and no one shoots.

 Number 4.) If they don’t reach a peace, that’s alright. Time to get some pistols and a doctor in sight. You pay him in advance, you treat him with civility. You have him turn around so he can have deniability.

 I needed a weapon. I was not stupid enough to fight a snake that can kill you with one sniff of his breath. So, I may or may not have politely asked Hephaestus to give me a bow and arrow. Why that specific weapon? I don’t know. Maybe it was because my sister had a bow and arrow.

 I realized after the interaction I had with my half-brother I am not related to at all, that I needed to make sure I don’t die. Could I be my own healer? How hard could it be?

 I decided to practice on animals, which I think led my sister to make the Endangered Mythical Creature list. Oops.

 5.) Duel before the sun is in the sky. Pick a place to die, where it’s high and dry.

 I realize now that the reason why Python didn’t want to fight in the day was because he didn’t want Helios as a witness.

 The thing that disturbed me the most was that if I was going to die, I would have disintegrated via the smell. Oh, and I’d be dead, obviously.

 Number 6.) Leave a note for your next of kin. Tell 'em where you’ve been. Pray that hell or  heaven lets you in.

 Just before I was going to leave, I wrote a note in the dirt where my mother would see. She was the only one who didn’t know that I was going to go off to fight Python. My father wasn’t even there at the time so I left him out of the note.

 I wondered what afterlife awaited gods. I hoped that I wouldn’t find out.

 Then I left for Python’s cave.

 7.) Confess your sins, ready for the moment of adrenaline, when you finally face your opponent.

 I arrived early and that didn’t help my nerves. I felt so stationary waiting. So I paced and did everything I could think off to not stay still.

 Weirdly, I think that helped me survive. On the other hand, Python wasn’t scared of a godling who had no idea what he was doing, so he lost. In the words of Trollhunters, always be afraid.

 Number 8.) Your last chance to negotiate. Send in your seconds, see if they can set the record straight.

 "Python,“ I greeted. He did not answer.

 Just in case, I tried negotiating with Python. Again. To keep a long story short, It did not work

 Number 9.) Look 'em in the eye, aim no higher, summon all the courage you require and count.

 Python attacked. I don’t remember much. The pain blindsided me. That was probably for the best.

 It started glowing as if it was day, but the sun haven’t come up yet. It was coming from me.

 He threw me in the air. I had a good shot. I counted the feet.

  1

  2

  3

  4

 5

 6

 7

 9

10 paces

 Fire.

(The last part of the story is based off SunMoonDreamer’s [ao3 user since I can’t remember the DeviantArt user] artwork of Python VS Apollo. It depicts Apollo in the air, drawing his bow and Python trying to kill him.)

Submitted by @txny-dragon for @asunnydreamer based on this art

[jonnnysuh]

How To Write Good // Vernon

A/N: It all started with watching Vernon’s English tutor series and now we’re here omg. This is my first series so please give it some love <3 kind of unedited so lmk if there’s any mistakes! PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

PAIRING: Vernon x You

GENRE: enemies to ???, fluff, student!vernon, tutor!vernon

WARNINGS: swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

SUMMARY: There’s the crisp air of campus, the rush of something new, and a four year degree ahead of you. Your college experience doesn’t go off as smoothly as you’d hoped when you fall asleep on course selection day and are stuck with left over electives. Struggling to get through your creative writing class, you have no idea how you’re going to get through this semester. Fate steps in when the stranger you fought in the library might just be your only chance at passing. This is all just part of the college experience… right?

Orange leaves began surrounding the burnt red brick pathway, and the small green hills of the campus quad.  Fall was fast approaching, without much warning.  The bright summer sky, now often clouds of gray. The wind brushed past you, causing your hair to fly up. Your legs brushed together quickly as you tried to make your way through campus to get to your Writing in the Arts class. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't sleep through course selection but sometimes sleep was an actual priority to you...and it so happened to be on that day.  Not your first choice, but definitely miles ahead of  Economic History on the list of leftover electives.

You flipped over your wrist to take a look at the time on your brown pleather watch. 8:12.

Professor Hampton was an older woman, who always kept her sandy brown hair in a slick tight low bun. She had enforced a rule that the doors to the lecture hall would shut 15 minutes past the hour. If you didn’t make it then you’d have to get notes from a classmate. Maybe it’d be fine if you had a friend in the class that was actually punctual, but you had often sat alone in the same spot in the far left corner of the class room.  Time was definitely never on your side as you reckoned you only had 3 minutes left until your trip downtown was rendered useless. 

You swung the thick metal door open, and began pumping your legs forward, not stopping until you reached the top of the stairs. To your luck, the lecture hall was on the exact end of the hallway. As you took longer strides, your gray backpack bounced behind you. Finally arriving at the end of the long hallway, you came face to face with Professor Hampton, who had a scowl so thick you’d think it was drawn on with a felt tip permanent marker. Without an ounce of forgiveness, that old lady secured the door shut, eyes keen on your betrayed face just a few centimetres from hers.

With the little pride you still had, you contained the urge  to bang on the door repeatedly and say "OPEN UP."

If you hadn't had time to get ready that day, or missed your bus, dammit this would've been the boiling point that would've driven you to  kick the wall. Your saving grace was that there was a cute guy typing away on his laptop in this hallway and you'd be damned if you were about to look a fool.

It was that moment, you knew that if you were going to pass this class without sacrificing a wink of sleep, you were going to have to make a friend that was good at writing notes. And quick.

—

The next day, you navigated your way through the twists and turns of the library, never having had been there a day in your life. You swear you’d gone in a circle at this point. You promised your best friend, Taylor that you’d secure a spot for your impromptu study date. Although you both had good intentions, you knew it was more than likely going to become a gossip session that involved sometimes looking at class material.

Among the rows and rows of occupied tables, you finally found an empty table, situated next to the window that overlooked the architecture and art buildings. You settled in the chair, slipping your laptop out of your tote bag , and typing mindlessly to look busy while you waited for your friend. With a look around the room, you wondered if people actually studied at the library or if they were just faking it like you.

You were so immersed in your game of Tetris you almost didn’t hear the voice that said , “Hey, I think you’re at the wrong table.”

You paused your game and surveyed the empty wooden table you were sitting at.  You blinked slowly at the brown haired man.  “I was here first.”

“That might be true but I booked it out for the hour.” The stranger stood with a slight slouch, sporting a backwards snapback and a deep green hoodie. He didn't look like the type to hang out around the library- but then again, neither did you. You swear you had seen him before, but you couldn't place where.

Did I go to high school with him?  you thought.

What if he was ugly and had a glow up and that’s why I don’t recognize him?

You took a closer look at him.

Nah. I don’t think he’s ever been ugly in his life.

“Look. My name's right here." He leaned forward, showing you his screen.

[TABLE 9] 3:00pm - Vernon C.

You pushed the phone away, unimpressed. "But you showed up late."

"It was only 6 minutes." Vernon scoffed, as if his tardiness would automatically forfeit him from his table.

"Well, have you ever heard of finder's keepers?"

Vernon nodded, his voice pointed. "But have you ever heard of fair and square?"

You tried your best to conceal the fact that you were somewhat amused by his elementary-level comeback.

"Could you look into your great, big heart to share?” You pouted tauntingly.

"Oh, yeah, because you need a table to play Tetris." He responded sarcastically but it was as if he had crept into your mind. You dreaded the idea of being on your feet trying to find another place for your game.

Your best friend rolled in between you two innocently, confused at the interaction at hand. It was like a kid walking in on their mom and dad fighting for the first time… except dad is a Tetris-hating stranger you just met 3 minutes ago.

“Sorry I’m late, Y/N.”  Taylor interjected, trying her best to mend the atmosphere with a grin.  Vernon's posture went notably straight as he exhaled, returning a sweet close-lipped smile. You couldn't help but notice the way he looked at your friend- you squinted at the shadow of the difference between this Vernon and the one that basically told you to fuck off only moments prior.

Without a doubt, you knew he was suffering from the "Taylor Effect".

Taylor was your textbook girl next door; equipped with a warm demeanour, and a confidence that was endearing rather than cocky.  You could tell that Vernon was trying his best not to stare so obviously, but he was failing miserably.

Because everyone gravitated towards her, many found it odd that she chose to keep you as company. Sometimes you thought she stuck around only because your personalities were so starkly different and would emphasize how great she was, but time and time again she proved she was notable on her own accord.

"Did I interrupt something?"

You and the man shared a look.

Vernon had a feeling that if he let you speak first, that you might ruin his chances with Taylor, and there was absolutely NO shot that he was going to tell her what had just happened. You were quick to take advantage of the situation.

“Vernon just wanted to take the tab-“

He shook his head, "No, no, no I was just leaving."

You raised your eyebrow, smugly.

“I'll see you later,” He bid.  Your eyes widened as he went closer to you, clasping his hand around yours and pulling you forwards into an almost embrace. He dapped you up. Vernon dapped you up. What? Did he think you were bros now?

Ya, right. You thought. This is my first and last time in this library. You will never see me or my Tetris again.

And with that, he swung his backpack over his shoulder  coolly and headed down the long carpeted aisle in the other direction.

Only a few moments later did he return to go through the north exit. “Wrong way.” He mumbled, charting past both of you.

—

“So you don’t know anyone in that class?” Taylor said in disbelief as you two sat at the table you had only marginally won.

“No, I missed the first two weeks so by the time I actually went to class  they already had their groups.”  you responded, blowing air out of your mouth in frustration.

School had only just begun and Taylor had swept up a bunch of friends, including you, in just this one semester.

You, on the other hand, were awkward, but not in the forgivable way. You never knew the right thing to say, and your sarcasm drew a fine line between a joke and the truth. You felt like you always had to bite your tongue to hold a decent conversation with someone. In turn, this scared a lot of people away, and resulted in a small but good group of friends that understood you.

For some reason though, you did well with confrontation. That was the only time you could force yourself to not care about what someone else thought about you. Other than that, your communication skills were almost useless.

“So go up to those kids and say hi.” Taylor responded.

You knew your best friend was being well meaning, but sometimes she felt like she oversimplified your problems because she saw it through her own lens. Of course it would be easy for Taylor to do so, but for you it would be a different story. Your stomach turned at even the mere thought of introducing yourself to the group of strangers that always sat all the way in the front of the lecture hall.

“I’ll just figure it out. I don't know how to just talk to people."

“What about that guy that I just saw you with? What was that about?”

You cleared your throat, fixing your attention to your laptop screen. Getting work done suddenly seemed more interesting.

“No, no, no look at me.” Taylor dragged your laptop away.

You begrudgingly looked at your friend. “What about him?”

“Who was that? He was kind of cute.” She cupped her cheek with her hand and sat closer, clearly interested. It was rare to see you with anyone other than your usual friend group so Taylor was invested in your endeavours outside of it.

You knew that if you told Taylor about your weird argument with a stranger, that she’d explain that you were unfriendly, that you needed to be nicer, etc. etc. You didn’t need a lecture today.

“Just some dude who finished using the table.”

Taylor chuckled, “What kind of guy says bye like that to a person he just met?”

Her guess was as good as yours.

—

ONE WEEK LATER

Determination is setting 25 morning alarms, pre-picking your clothes and opting for an on-the-go breakfast in order to just make it on time for class. You took your final strides towards the class slowly, knowing you finally had time on your side. Would it be crazy to call waking up at 6am a victory? Doesn’t matter, you were just so happy, you could answer Professor Hampton’s questions… that is, if you listened.

At the bottom of the lecture hall, sat the aforementioned groups, while the top were lonesome stragglers looking at their phones in an effort to look less lonely. You knew they were probably just reviewing their settings; turning their wifi on and off.

Professor Hampton cleared her throat into the microphone at the front of the class, prompting you to pick up the pace to your regular spot at the far left corner.

No way.

Your speed slowed down again, as you craned your head to get a better look at a brown-haired boy sitting by himself.

Despite the numerous empty seats to choose from, your caffeine rush assisted you in making the possibly dumb decision of sitting exactly right next to him. He seemed unbothered, though as he didn’t look up to question it.

Professor Hampton played her slides, while you pulled out your laptop out of your tote bag.

“Hey.” You whispered.

The man’s light brown eyes flickered towards you.

“You’re in this class?” Vernon whisper-exclaimed.

It registered in your brain that this might’ve been a mistake.

You nodded.

Vernon kept his focus on the front of the class, his pencil swivelled  away on his lined paper. You had never seen anyone actually take real-life notes before. You scanned his paper, pleasantly surprised at the organization.

“Why did you dap me up last week?”

“I honestly don’t know what I was doing.” He admitted.

Boys do dumb things around pretty girls. You'd seen it happen so many times with Taylor.

“She’s cute isn’t she?”

“Who?” Vernon was quick to play dumb, but he clearly knew. 

You were fascinated by how he was writing and listening to you at the same time.

“Taylor—my friend.”

Vernon squinted his eyes, either to think or because he couldn’t see the projection clearly. It made you wonder why he sat in the back of the class if that was the case.

“Yeah, she is.”

Bingo.

You silently relished in your impromptu decision to sit next to a stranger.

“What would you say if I got you a date with her?”

Vernon put his pencil down. “You strike me as the kind of person who wouldn’t do that out of the kindness of your heart.”

You snorted. “You’re right.”

Vernon let out a deep sigh, pushing his hoodie sleeve up his arms. He relaxed back in his seat and stared at you as he waited for your proposal.

“What is it?” His deep voice was littered with impatience but it was clear he was at least curious.

You weren’t  prepared to gain his full attention. Your mind went several ways as you collected your thoughts to be as concise as possible.

“I’m struggling in this class, okay? I can’t always make it on time, and creative writing? Not really something I’m interested in.”

“Then why’d you take the class?”

“Why does anyone do anything here? For the credit.” You responded as if the answer was obvious.

Vernon’s raised eyebrows was enough to tell you that he was actually passionate about this subject— which was perfect for you if you wanted to pass the class.

“How do I come into this, though?” His patience running thin from your incredibly interesting backstory.

“If you tutor me up until midterms and I pass, I’ll get you a date with Taylor.”

He shook his head “What if you fail?”

“Then you can take that as a reflection of your teaching skills,” Vernon rolled his eyes. Okay maybe that was a bad joke. “but on the plus side you’ve gained a new friendddddd.”

Professor Hampton gave you two a dirty look on her way back from shutting the lecture hall’s door. Vernon picked up his pencil to look busy and you tapped on your trackpad to turn the screen on.

“And what if I say no?” Vernon said between his teeth, catching the professor glare right at him with her scowl turned up to one hundred.

“Then I’ll shit talk about you to Taylor so you never have a chance.” You threatened. Your mom always urged you to use your brain, and boy, were you using it.

“You want me to teach you how to be creative?”

You shrugged. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

Vernon looked down at his notes contemplating his choices. He was silent for so long that you actually started typing notes.

“Y/N” Vernon whispered. You seemed to be fully immersed in the lesson now. Your eyes absorbing the information... Maybe writing was kind of fascinating.

“Y/N” He tried again, snapping you out of a trance.

“My bad.” you apologized. “I didn’t know the interesting part of the story was called the climax like ew—”

“I can only tutor you on Thursdays between 6 and 8 in the library. Bring your laptop and be prepared to learn.”

You knew you didn’t have class at those hours, so it should’ve been fine, but you also dreaded staying after school longer than you had to.

“What about 4-6?” You pleaded.

Vernon looked offended at your counter offer. “No. 6-8”

“4:30…?” You tried once again.

Vernon snorted at your no-quit attitude. “You wanna pass or not?”

You stuck out your hand defeatedly and Vernon shook on it before either of you could change your mind. Vernon was your new tutor.

Maybe Taylor was right. All you had to do was go up to someone and say “hi.”

And blackmail them. And use your friend as bait.

Making friends was easy.

[theweasleysredhair]

Flustered [G.W.]

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 3077

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: “You make my heart skip a beat.” In which Georgie is a chaotic, flustered mess in love with a Hufflepuff chaser.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: For the lovely Erica - I really hope you enjoy it angel! I may have been working on this all week and rewritten it like three times so I’m hoping I got George being all flustered yet cheeky right 😂

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“Wow, you really like her don’t you,” Fred commented as he watched his twin staring hopelessly at the h/c girl a few metres to his left.

“What?” George snapped out of his daydream just as he walked straight into a pillar, knocking him back on his feet and he groaned in pain as Fred and Lee laughed.

“Might wanna watch where you’re walking instead of staring at Y/n, mate,” Lee joked, watching as George rubbed gingerly at his nose. “Love really is blind, eh George?” Fred sniggered.

George groaned, half at his nose hurting and half at his friends’ teasing. It’s not his fault he was so distracted - how could he be expected to focus on where he was walking when you were a few metres away from him?

“Oh shut up, the pair of you. You’re acting like you’ve never fancied a girl before. I distinctly remember you falling on your face, Fred, when you first started liking Angelina,” George scowled, nudging his brother.

“That’s because you tripped me up!” Fred said indignantly. George feigned innocence, “I would never do such a thing.”

And then suddenly his focus had fallen back on you, his previous conversation fading into the background, barely paying attention to Lee’s laughter at his expense.

“She’s the best chaser in Hogwarts I reckon,” he said dreamily, watching as your head fell back as you laughed with your teammates.

To be fair, he wasn’t wrong. You’d made a name for yourself since you’d joined the team a couple years back, and were the best player on the Hufflepuff team. Luckily for George, he knew Harry was a better seeker than Cedric, but he knew you were a force to be reckoned with - you’d scored the most points since the year had started and by a longshot at that.

“You know, we have three perfectly good chasers on our own team you should be complimenting,” Lee pointed out as he opened the doors to exit the castle.

The sun was out, warming up what would have otherwise been a mild morning, dew still covering the grass as hoards of Hogwarts students were milling around, waiting for the match to begin.

The boys began heading towards the quidditch pitch, knowing Oliver Wood would already be there to prep the team on which strategies they’d be using today.

George sighed, “Yeah but... they don’t look like Y/n do they. Or act like her. Or sound like her.”

“I swear to Merlin, if you lose us this match because you can’t stop staring at the girl then I’ll personally kill you myself,” Lee threatened playfully.

“No worries about that, I’ve got a plan!” George announced proudly, straightening his back and pushing his chest out proudly.

“You made a plan? Without me?” Fred came to a sudden halt, making Lee bump into his back as the older twin dramatically clutched his chest as if he was heartbroken.

“Yep. Made it just this minute... I’m gonna flirt with her whilst we’re playing, to distract her,” the younger twin said determinedly.

There was a moment of silence before Fred and Lee burst out laughing laughing, continuing on their journey to the pitch. “You can’t flirt. You can barely speak to her,” Lee chortled, grabbing onto George’s shoulder for support.

“‘S not true. I had a conversation with her the other day!”

“She asked you if she could borrow a quill and you stared at her with heart eyes for a solid couple of minutes before I handed one to her instead. Wouldn’t call that a conversation, Georgie,” Fred said pointedly.

“I wasn’t referring to that - thanks for reminding me of that by the way,” George fake-glared at his twin, “I actually saw her in the library.”

“Oh yeah? What were you doing in the library?” Lee asked in disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was studying,” George said simply.

At the sight of Fred and Lee raising their eyebrows, George sighed, “Okay fine, I was hiding from Filch. And I may have seen her walk in there before me. The point is, we had an amazing conversation and she called me cute.”

“Everyone stand back, Georgie’s been called cute and had some really hot, passionate eye contact!” Fred called out sarcastically.

George looked unimpressed, “Oh ha-ha, very funny.”

As they arrived at the stands, the twins bid goodbye to Lee who headed up to commentator’s box.

Around 15 minutes later, the twins were in their quidditch uniform and had just finished with the match briefing. They walked out, laughing and joking when Fred nudged George and nodded over to where you were stood in the middle of the pitch with your team, in your own quidditch uniform, holding onto your broom.

George picked up his pace, taking his place in front of you. He smirked at you, “Heard you’ve been practicing night and day for this, shame we’re going to beat you anyway.”

You looked up and were pleasantly surprised to see the younger twin standing across from you, in his starting position for the match. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy he’d chosen to come and see you instead of speaking to his team.

You scoffed and shot him a grin, “I’m gonna fly circles around you in this match.”

“Bring it on, love! Gryffindor are the best team going,” he bragged, puffing out his chest playfully and making you laugh (something he was extremely happy to have done - he’d never get sick of hearing the melodic sound).

“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that,” you said determinedly, climbing onto your broom.

The match began and George made it his mission to compliment you every time he flew past you, to distract you from scoring. Usually, nothing could stop you from getting the quaffle into the hoops but there was something about the ginger boy that had you flustered, heart racing every time he’d throw a smirk your way.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you look right now?” He’d said to you as he flew past you, distracting you just long enough for Alicia Spinnet to score a goal and making you grit your teeth in annoyance.

When you had stolen the quaffle from Katie Bell and were just about to score, he came up beside you saying, “Always knew you were an amazing chaser, babe.” And that was enough for you to miss the hoop by barely a fraction of a centimetre.

The last straw was when you’d just managed to throw the quaffle past Oliver Wood, after having to flip over on your broom to avoid Angelina Johnson flying past you in an attempt to steal it from you, earning another 10 points for Hufflepuff when the younger twin flew past you again, “Well that was hot as hell, love.”

And suddenly you forgot where you were for a moment, staring after him as he flew off, mouth open in a slack ‘o’.

Your team captain flew past you, yelling, “Flirt in your own time, L/n!”, making you realise that you were, in fact, in the middle of a quidditch match. And with that, you decided to give George a taste of his own medicine.

“‘M really glad you keep passing us the quaffle, love, making it so much easier for us to win,” George teased you. “Anything for the most handsome beater around,” you retaliated, batting your eyelashes at him. Sure, you could’ve come up with something better but for being in the middle of a game and thinking on the spot, you didn’t think it was too bad.

You were right as well, because as soon as you said it, George stopped mid-air, frozen in place. Because... did you just call him handsome?

His heart was pounding as he stared after you, your h/c hair flowing in the wind and making his breath catch in his throat.

And then suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a bludger coming straight for you. With a glance over at Fred, who was busy trying to ensure Angelina - who had the quaffle - could score, he realised that the other bludger was heading towards Katie Bell.

George raced into action, beginning to head over to help Katie, who moved to dodge said bludger, before suddenly swerving on his broom over towards you, smacking the iron ball away from you merely seconds before it hit you.

He turned to you, all previous playfulness gone and replaced with concern, “Are you okay?”

You barely had enough time to nod, still in shock from the near-hit, before George was called off again by Fred.

“Maybe focus on your own teammates, eh Weasley?” Oliver shouted angrily at George, who looked around and realised Katie Bell had been hit with the other bludger.

“Sorry Ollie mate, had to protect what’s mine,” he called back to his captain.

“And because of that my shoulder got hit!” Katie yelled out.

“Sorry, Bell,” George shrugged, before heading off to hit a bludger away from Alicia. Of course, he did feel bad that Katie got hurt - quite guilty, in fact - but... to him, it would’ve been worse if you’d have been hit - or worse again, had fallen. He didn’t think he could handle that.

“You’re lucky we won,” Fred said to George after Harry had caught the snitch, “Otherwise I reckon Oliver would try and drown you in the showers for saving Y/n instead of Katie.”

“Y/n is my priority to be honest,” George replied as they landed their brooms on the grass, “Plus, I knew Katie saw the bludger coming and had at least a chance to swerve. Y/n had no idea. I couldn’t let her get hurt, Freddie... I couldn’t.”

“Guess we’ll have to work on distractions in the next practice,” Oliver said pointedly on the way past the twins, although the didn’t seem too upset - probably considering Gryffindor had won - followed by Katie who was holding her shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” George said sheepishly. If he was honest though, it wasn’t really a hard decision for him to choose between saving you and saving Katie.

Katie didn’t make his heart race like you did.

The rest of the team headed after the cheering crowds, whooping and hollering at Harry.

Fred followed on, screaming excitedly into the crowd. George went to join when he felt someone tap his shoulder.

He turned around and was met with the sight of your nervous smile, rocking back on your heels as you looked up at him, “Hey... I um, I just wanted to thank you. You know, for hitting that bludger away from me. You didn’t have to do that and I never got the chance to thank you in the game.”

“Don’t you worry love, it was nothing. Gotta protect your pretty face, don’t I?” He said cheekily, making a blush rise on your cheeks.

“Well, it wasn’t nothing, it saved me a great deal of pain and possibly a nasty fall so... I guess I owe you,” You grinned, before leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You thanked him again and then shyly waved him goodbye to join your teammates.

George felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, his mind racing and heart beating fast as he reached up to the place where you’d kissed him. You’d kissed him.

“You look happy with yourself,” Fred commented with a grin from a few metres away, having walked back after realising his twin wasn’t following.

“She kissed me,” George announced in amazement and pure awe. “Yeah, on the cheek,” Fred grinned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That still counts!”

“No Georgie it really doesn’t, but I’m glad you think so,” the older twin replied in an amused tone.

-

“D’ya reckon she fancies me?” George asked suddenly as the twins headed down to the Great Hall for lunch. For a moment, Fred was confused, looking around for some kind of context, but then realised his twin was talking about you.

“Well I mean you are the less attractive twin and all but you do have some good qualities I suppose,” Fred replied, looking like he was in thought.

“Oh yeah, like what?” George asked seriously, hoping for some actual advice.

“Well for starters you have an amazing twin brother.”

George stopped, staring at Fred’s grin and sighing before elbowing him - slightly harder than he intended to so Fred nearly fell into the wall.

“Now now Georgie, I’m simply trying to tell you that I am offering you my services at helping you win her over,” Fred said with a laugh, nudging his twin right back.

“At this point I’m open to anything.”

“Well, this may seem a bit out there, over the top, dramatic - but how about... you just tell her directly how you feel. You have no problem being all sappy about her to me. I’m sick of it really,” Fred sighed with a shake of his head.

“I can’t do that.”

“You’re George Weasley of course you can mate.”

“D’ya reckon?” George glanced over to the group of students heading down the same corridor, most likely to head to get some lunch too.

“Yeah I do. Or, even better, just walk over and snog her the next time you see her.”

As much as George liked that idea - and was imagining it right that moment - he decided against it.

“What if there’s someone else?” Fred decided mess with George. The younger twin’s head whipped round to look at Fred, “What do you mean?”

“Oh wow your face, you’re really gone on her... poor Y/n,” Fred laughed, clapping a hand on George’s shoulder, “All I’m saying is, my dear sweet twin, what if there’s someone else?”

George swallowed. He hadn’t thought of that. What if there was someone else? He hadn’t seen you with anyone and knew Fred was winding him up but what if?

“Then I’ll just beat away the other competition,” George said with a cheeky grin, hiding his worry but his mind was reeling at the possibility.

Fred groaned at the pun, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to reply to his twin when they heard soft laugher from behind them, “Oh don’t you worry, no one could ever beat you, George.”

The twins turned around in shock, George’s heart pounding as his eyes rested on your figure.

“Oh dear Godric, marry her,” Fred groaned as he walked away towards the Great Hall, mumbling something about bad puns.

George felt his cheeks redden, reaching up with one hand to scratch the back of his neck, “You um.. you heard that?” You bit your lip before grinning, “I did.”

“Is it too late to pretend I’m Fred?” George asked with a nervous smile. He could feel the tips of his ears burning and he had no doubt they were most likely blending in with his hair at that point.

You laughed, “Well you could but I’m quite fond of you as yourself if I’m honest.”

“You are?” George’s mind raced, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. He then mentally cursed himself for acting so stutter-y and nervous as he ran a hand through his messy hair, “I mean, that’s good because I’m quite fond of you too.”

“Of course. There’s not many guys who would go out of their way to protect me from bludgers... especially when they’re not on my team or as handsome as you are,” you said with a small shrug. You giggled a little noticing a strand of hair sticking up from George messing with it, so you reached up and flattened it out, making him swallow from how close your lips were to his.

He could easily close the couple of inches between you if he wanted. Well, he did want to - badly - but just as he built the courage, you’d stepped back a little further away.

“Some things are more important than who’s on what team... don’t you worry love, I’d protect you from bludgers all day long if you asked me to,” he replied with a cheeky smile.

“Is that an offer you make to all the girls?” You asked with a laugh. “Nah, just the ones I fancy,” George admitted.

“You’re sweet, you know that?”

“Now that you mention it...,” he pretended to think, before shooting you a grin, “Yeah I know.”

You laughed and his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again as his tongue darted out to swipe across his own bottom lip. You were still stood close, he could - what was it Fred said? He could walk over and snog you.

Your laughter had dropped to a comfortable silence before George broke it, stepping forward so the distance between you became nearly non-existent, “You know, I was thinking, maybe we can- or I could- can I-”

“Kiss me, Georgie” you interrupted his rambling.

“Oh bloody hell- yeah absolutely,” he breathed as he grabbed your hips, pulling you to him and crashing his lips to yours. Your hands made their way around his neck as he slowly turned you to press you against the nearest wall, one of his hands on your waist as the other cupped your jaw to better angle himself.

He sighed happily as you tugged at strands of his hair, the hand that was on your waist moving slightly so it gripped the back of your hip, pulling you closer to him.

You pulled away a little to take a breath and before you knew it he was kissing you again, showing you how long he’d waited for this moment.

“Hey Y/n?” He said in a low tone as you pulled away, pressing another kiss to your swollen lips before resting his forehead against yours. “Yes Georgie?”

“You make my heart skip a beat,” he said with a proud grin.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, “It took you all that time to come up with that?”

“In my defence, I had you - looking like you do - in front of me, being all distracting. And then you let me kiss you. You try coming up with something better,” George scoffed playfully, giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“Oh I could easily beat you at this game,” you replied immediately, grinning up at him. His mouth dropped open a little and his eyes lit up, staring at you as if you’d hung the moon and stars in the sky,

“Merlin, Fred was right: Marry me?”

[palbabor-writes]

So, uh, I got excited with this ask

Anonymous said:

so what if, and I’m just spitballin’ here, you wrote a little something for Tomura, a jealous!reader x Tomura, perhaps? Ik there probably wouldn’t be an actual situation where somebody would try to steal him away or anything but just a little something on the reader seeing something that wasn’t what it looked like and Shiggy kind of reassuring her in his own special way? 😌 pls &thank you sm in advance, but you of course absolutely don’t have to write it if you don’t want to (: love your work!

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Gen!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, angst, jealous feelings, mentions of past relationship and heavy petting, mm, imma say it’s rated T, for the teens and upper betweens

Word Count: 4387

Notes: Lol. I’m pretty sure this was meant to be like, a drabble or head cannon in your mind nonnie. Me, being me, I stretched it out into a freaking fic. I can’t shut uppppp sometimes. First time trying for a Gen!Reader, so hopefully it’s a thumbs up. Not beta edited, so any mistakes are mine, and mine alone.

“O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.” ― William Shakespeare, Othello

It’s been two months, two freaking months and you’ve hardly gotten two texts strung together, let alone a call, from Tomura. 

While he’s never been what anyone would call a frequent texter, your last message has sat, unread, on his phone for the last 3 days. You know he’s busy, you know he said he’s got shit to take care of, but you can’t help the angry pit of worry that simmers in your gut. He could at least tell you something. Like, hey, I’ll be out of touch for a few days, talk soon. Is that too much to ask? 

Apparently it is.

The two of you have always been a quiet item. Most of the League knows, or at least, heavily, heavily suspects. It’s not like you tried to keep it a secret, it’s just the way you both are. Besides, you usually liked how the arrangement worked.

You’d met him through your job. You worked with Giran as a courier of sorts. Sometimes you’d lug shipments back and forth, sometimes you’d make deliveries. It was one of these deliveries that introduced you to Tomura. He was quiet, sulking toward the back of the bar, but you’d managed to strike up a conversation with him as Compress double checked his requested items. 

He was waspish, sharp. At first, you worried that your questions had only managed to pissed him off. But then, just as you started to chat with another guy in the bar, a snarky fellow, who was covered in some serious, serious burns, Tomura tugs your attention back to him with a pointed question. 

“Can you tell Giran that you’re only one who’s permitted to transport the deliveries to the bar?”

That one query had started a landslide. 

You were summoned to the hideout frequently, practically on the daily after that. Giran just shook his head and asked you not to fall too deep. You didn’t know what he meant then. Two months later you understood his meaning perfectly. 

How could you not fall head over heels for this guy? Fuck, he was so desperate, so wanting, so fucking needy for you. God, you missed it now that you didn’t have it. After the Kamino incident, he’d called on you even more and you loved that you could help him. He honestly seemed, in his own, gruff way, appreciative. 

But, then he’d said he needed to leave the city. 

At first, your contact with each other had maintained some semblance of normalcy. You would text and he would reply. You could call and he would answer. Often, he sounded tired, strained, but every once in a while you could pull a laugh from him and all would feel right with the world. 

Now? 

Now nothing feels right and the only link you have to him is Dabi. He’s the only person in the League that’s responding to your emails or texts. Even Giran isn’t answering anything. That’s not normal either because Giran always, always answers. What the fuck is going on?

It’s starting to feel like you’ll never know. This is mainly due to the fact that Dabi is a shitty, shitty font of information. At first, you’d eagerly taken his calls and texts. In lieu of a tip, you asked him about this mission Tomura was on. He fed you vague, flippant, answers. 

“Tch, this again? I already told you, they’re all fighting this giant. It’s some pet of the doctors.”

“And like I said the last, oh, I don’t know, twelve times, giant makes no sense to me. Can you expand on that a little bit? Like, what the hell does that mean? They’re fighting a fucking giant. Is that supposed to be some kinda bizarro hint? Cuz’ it sounds like you’re giving me shoddy information to get me off your back,” you snap, placing your foot on his box of requested medical kit supplies. 

Dabi practically keeps you on standby now. The guy has gotten more aggressive in the last month, and the heavy price his fire quirk extorts on his body meant he needs a steady flow of burn cream, meds, stitches and pain relievers.

“Fuck, look, I don’t know how else to explain that fucker. I didn’t give a shit about boss man’s little mission to tame him, so the doctor and I worked out something else for me to do. I’m not around those guys right now, I’ve got other things I’m working on. Now give me my shit and get out of my face. Ask Toga about your little fuck buddy, I could give two shits about his well being.” 

“Why follow him if you hate him so much?” God, this asshole is such a prick.

Dabi considers you for a long moment, his vibrant blue eyes lingering on your scowling face. “He’s a means to an end. I’m just here to see this society fall to its knees. Boss wants the same thing, so, for now, this arrangement works for both of us. Now, if I have to ask you to give me my fucking shit one more time, I’m gonna’ singe you where you stand.” 

Sucking your teeth, you kick the box toward him and turn on your heel, slamming his door behind you. If he’s not going to be useful to you, why be useful to him? We’ll see how he likes it when you accidentally miss some of his shipment deadlines. 

You pace out into the night, shrugging your jacket up on your shoulders. If they’re so far out, if they’re fighting something that sounds like an impossibility, why not ask you to bring them some supplies? Why haven’t they reached out to you? 

As you wait for your train, you pull your phone from your pocket, your cold fingers resting against the glass. There’s a missed call from another contact, but no other notifications. You swipe over to your messages from Tomura. Your last text sits, still unopened, unread, uncared for, in his box. It’s not fair, you think, sliding your phone back and pressing your hands into the meager warmth of your pockets.

Tomura used to confide in you and you felt close to him. And not just in a physical sense. At first, the relationship between the two of you was just that, something that eased an itch. But you kept asking him things, liking the soft tone his voice could take on when he lost some of that anger. 

Then, he started to wordlessly ask you to stay a little longer, his arms wrapping around your bare form, holding you against his warmth. It was nice. It was so, so satisfying and now it’s gone. Is this his way of moving on from you? You would have thought that he would have said something. He’s never struck you as someone who hides from a confrontation. So why the radio silence? 

Another week passes and Dabi keeps calling. He’s practically got your entire schedule blacked out now with deliveries, upcoming shipments and transports. What. The. Fuck. It’s gotten so frustrating that you’ve started to waffle on picking up his calls, sending him straight to voicemail. 

“What kinda courier leaves their fucking name on their voicemail? Stop ignoring my calls, (Y/N).”

Yeah, he’s a real charmer. At least he answers your messages though. It’s better than nothing, you keep telling yourself, trying to ignore the gnawing, munching feeling of bitterness that keeps rising. Yeah, Dabi’s gotten to be such a constant in your life that your phone keeps recommending him as a new favorite. 

Would you like to add the contact: Dabi, to your favorites list? No, no you would not.

Then, suddenly, out of the blue, Dabi’s not answering you either. Your first, gut instinct, tells you that he’s likely annoyed with your spotty replies or he’s busy with...”Dabi things”. He’s always reminding you about the oh, so important “Dabi things”. ‘Don’t pester me with your shit, (Y/N). I’ve got something big I’m working on.’ 

But now? Fuck, now you’d kill to hear from him. 

There’s absolutely nothing. No response from Toga, Compress, Spinner, Dabi and most important of all, Tomura. 

He’d finally read your text. After two whole days had passed from the sent time stamp, he’d read it, and then opted to not respond. It stung. You can still feel that tightening emotion of dread, of abject hurt, that had radiated from your chest when you saw that he’d finally looked at your message and then just decided you weren’t worth his time. 

Yeah, after seeing that, the last few days have been nothing but a full tilt boogie of emotions for you. 

This must be a planned thing. Why else would they all coordinate their ghosting. He must have wanted to leave you behind and now, this distance has made it possible. 

He’s been changing a lot lately. 

Even before he left for this, whatever it was, he’d grown in confidence and skill. Fuck, he’d taken on a Yakuza boss and won. He’s becoming a leader, a competent force to be reckoned with. He doesn’t need you to bounce ideas off of anymore. A courier picked up at the start of his career isn’t a necessary piece to add to his collection. 

Yeah, chances are, he’s moved on. He’s out of your reach now and you can’t help the thoughts that rise in the back of your mind. What if he’s found someone else? What if he just got bored with you? Did you put too much thought into this relationship? Well, that question has kinda answered itself. You put way too much into this. You had planned for things, hoped for…

Your phone rings and the noise startles you out of your head. You fumble for your vibrating device and lift the screen up before swiping to answer the call. Oh, it’s Toga. Fingers shaking, you lift the phone to your ear and are so happy to hear her babbling voice. 

She tells you that she’s been meaning to call you, but, gosh, everything has gotten in the way. Plus, she took a bad hit in a fight. Oh, she’s ok, but it’s been a crazy week for her. 

As she chatters about some random series of events that you can’t string together, you let out a long sigh. That coiling that’s been building in your stomach loosens and you’ve never been so relieved in your life. There’s still a chance. Maybe he hasn’t decided to leave you in the dust. Maybe...whoops, Toga asked you something. 

“Deka City? No, I’ve never been there.”

“Oh good, well, I wouldn’t try and go now. Tomura sorta, mmm, crumbled it to bits.”

“What?”

“Oooh, and we’re part of a bigger group now…”

She tells you about something called Gigamantia and their new connections. Apparently, Tomura’s made another step up in the world. Now he’s leading something called Meta Liberation? What is that? It sounds kinda familiar, but where have you heard it?

Toga is winding down her conversation, her voice smoothing out. She promises she’ll answer your other texts soon and emails you a set of coordinates, saying they’ll see you there and clicks off. 

You lower your phone to your lap, biting back the grin that won’t stop spreading across your face. Ok, so, maybe you’re not as abandoned as you thought. Maybe they, no, maybe he still needs you.

******

You found the building alright. It was impossible to miss. This place is massive, fit for an army. The security is tight, so tight that you’d even been screened by a guard at the door. Once they confirm that you are who you say you are, and you know who you say you know, you’re permitted entrance.

Who are all these people?

As you enter the “meeting room,” which is really a space that looks like a concert area, complete with a well lit stage, you’re pressed into the mass of bodies. There must be hundreds of people here and there’s some hulking creature, dozing in the corner. 

Is this that giant Dabi mentioned? You totally thought he was making that shit up. And, wait, wait, is that a pro hero a few spaces away? What is this? Where is the League?

The overhead lights dim and your attention is drawn back to the sage. People are bustling around the elevated area and a plush chair is placed in the center. Looks like the show is about to start. 

A loud, booming voice announces the arrival of a man called Redestro. He must be that long faced guy in the motorized chair and, oh, there he is. 

He walks up slowly, it looks like he’s leaning on something, but you can’t see clearly. The crowd shifts around you and an inordinately tall man is blocking your view. Huffing out a sigh, you try to maneuver yourself to a better vantage place.

He’s seated now, his long legs spread out in front of him. Fuck, he looks both wonderful and terrible, at the same time. Wonderful because it’s Tomura, terrible because he’s covered in bandages and he’s got a brace on his leg. What happened to him? 

Your eyes can’t stop roving over him, trying to drink in everything. He looks like he’s on edge, his fingers clutching at a small slip of paper, as his good leg jiggles against the chair. Why...ah, he’s being introduced. Wait. He’s being introduced as the leader of the Paranormal Liberation Front? So...so all these people...this entire organization...is his to command? 

He clears his throat and you hear his voice for the first time in months. He’s halting at first, but as he continues his speech his tone deepens, strengthens, losing that early hesitation. He sounds good, powerful and confident. 

You tear your eyes away from him and give the crowd a quick glance. They’re enraptured. A few paces away you can hear people whispering to each other, their voices low, awed. 

“He took down Redestro…”

“He’s so young.”

“He’s kinda...I don’t know...handsome.”

“You’re right, he looks regal.”

That coiling, trembling feeling is making a strong comeback. It’s an ugly return and it makes your flesh prickle and cool. He’s left you in the lurch for months and now he’s become some sort of leader, of an entire, what is this...a cult? An organization? An army? How the fuck, would you know? No one, least of all Tomura, has told you anything, about any of this. 

When the address and introductions (the League had made a, uh, flashy entrance) are over, someone comes up and taps you on your shoulder. It’s another one of those security guards. She says you’ve been requested, the League wants to see you. 

She takes you past the stage and down a long hallway. It’s quiet back here and the silence doesn’t soothe your frayed nerves. You’re pointed to a large set of doors and you bite your lip before pushing them open.

Another large room greets you. This one is filled with plush couches, elegantly carved tables and multiple chairs. There’s so much to look at, you don’t even see them at first. No, you hear him before you see him. He’s talking with a tall woman, who is writing down what he dictates, her pen moving rapidly across her paper.

Fuck, you’ve missed his voice. 

It’s quiet now, a little hoarse from his speech and you want to step closer. He’s standing next to some large windows, his back turned to you. He hasn’t even noticed you. What were you thinking? He’s this...God, leader now. What are you? Just a nobody he met when he was still pounding the pavement, looking for anyone who could help their cause, their mission. There’s nothing for you here, he’s…

“(Y/N).” 

Your eyes snap up to his. Tomura has turned, one arm braced heavily on his crutch, and is looking right at you. His eyes are hooded, dark, you can’t get a read on him from here. You want to step closer, but that sickening feeling is falling, like a stone, into your gut. Despite your turbulent emotions, you can’t stop staring at him.

The thick bandages are off and his hair is longer, the white strands hang close to his collarbone now, gleaming and pearlescent. He looks, damn, he looks tired and...what’s that? There’s something dark on his hand, it’s black and it covers three of his fingers. Why is he wearing that half glove, oh, oh no. It’s not a glove you realize, horrified, it's a prosthetic. He’s lost some of his fingers. 

“It took you long enough, come here, (Y/N).” 

His voice has dropped an octave, lingering in that distant tone that he would use when he dragged his lips across your neck, rumbling and murmuring against your skin. He knew that you liked that, he knew that it would make you so desperate for him, your hands pawing at his shoulders, pulling... 

No. He’s ignored you for weeks, no, months. You’re not about to just fall to pieces at his feet, crawling and begging for him to want you. Your eyes latch onto his and you minutely shake your head at his request, fingers squeezing into your palms. 

The woman, noting the tension that’s suddenly entered the room, looks between the two of you, and abruptly makes herself scarce, her heels tapping against the floor as she walks to the door. Once you hear it close behind her you unstick your mouth, your tongue heavy against your teeth.

“Who was that?” you ask, your voice croaking, thick with disuse. You can’t help the question. It tumbles from your mouth before you can stop it. You’d meant to ask him something else, but the query just, pops out, angry and trembling. 

“I don’t know. One of Redestro’s cronies. Why-” His face scrunches abruptly and a wince of pain passes of his features. “Why does it matter?” He finishes, his hand gripping a little tighter against his cane.

“You didn’t have to send for me, you know. It looks like you’ve upgraded everything else, why not me too?”

A scowl echoes across his lips. “What-”

You won’t let him finish his question, you can’t stand it anymore. You also can’t seem to stop. All of the emotions, the anger, the betrayal, the fucking, God, jealous thoughts that you’d slip into, alone in your cold bed. No, you’re not going to back down.

“You didn’t call, you didn’t text, and when you did, finally, manage to remember that I exist, the texts were so far and few between...fuck, sending a letter would have been faster. The only link I had to you was Dabi-”

“What?” He snaps, repeating his question, his red eyes, flashing, gleaming, glaring. “What does he have to do with anything?” His face is set in a deep snarl, his scar lifting along his white teeth. His fingers coil into his crutch, one digit arched away, and he begins the long journey to where you’re stubbornly standing. 

You watch him on bated breath. The sheer excitement of his renewed presence is making you shake. The warring feelings that are rising inside you are too much. It’s too much, it’s, oh...he’s right in front of you now.

“Answer me, (Y/N). What the fuck does Dabi have to do with anything?” 

You gulp. Tomura has never, ever liked you interacting with Dabi. It was that first subtle flirtation between you and the flame user that had set Tomura off in the first place. He had barely given you a second glance that first time you met him, but once your attention wandered over to Dabi, suddenly he was all ears. That animosity grew as time wore on. 

If anything, Dabi took advantage of it. He liked to press you, corner you, it was one of the many things you disliked about him. He was a selfish ass, only manipulating things for his own, twisted amusement. 

It’s a low blow for you to land on Tomura, to play up his own jealousies, but turnabout is fair play, right? 

“He’s the only person I could reach. You want to know who my phone keeps asking me to favorite now? Fucking Dabi. I kept asking him about you, about what was going on, but he never knew.

So, then I tried reaching out to you, directly. But then you decided to conveniently lose my fucking number, or something. You didn’t answer a single thing after that last text I sent you, what, two weeks ago? You didn't call. You didn’t even act like I exist, it-”

“I told you it would be a while.”

“Yeah, a while doesn’t typically mean two months. And how do you come back to me? With a broken leg and, fuck, three missing fingers? What is going on Tomura? You’re a different person now. Do you even want me anymore? You don’t have to ghost me. You could have just told me that you were moving onto bigger and better things. 

Congratulations, by the way. You’re the leader of a cult. Now, you can cut off all those lousy loose ends, like me-”

“You’re jealous.”

His voice has dipped into that low octave again, rasping, deep, and oh, fuck. You sputter at his assessment, your hands clenching into your pants. You need something to tether you, to keep you from reaching for him. You’re angry, remember? He’s left you, all alone, so alone and... 

He’s shifted to lean into you, the warmth of him rolling over you in waves. You can hear his breathing, if you move a little bit closer you could feel it, too. He knows what he’s doing. He’s used this tactic on you before. It’s very effective. His crutch taps him nearer. He’s practically flush against your heaving chest and your eyes flick up to his. 

The red is dark, tempered, and that swirling agitation has left him. He looks…

No, no, he left you for months, he can’t look at you like that. You shake your head, your eyes wincing shut, blocking him from view.

“I’m not...I-I’m not jealous, I was just-”

“Come here, (Y/N). Don’t make me ask you again.”

His new, half prosthetic hand reaches for your neck and traces over your trembling throat, ghosting over you, forcing you to press toward him. Once he’s satisfied you’re not going to reject his touch, he lets the digits tap onto you, gently, slowly, like he’s coaxing you out of your temper. The contrast of cool metal and warm skin makes you gasp, your eyes fluttering open. 

He’s curved over your lips, his white hair drifting softly around your face. Unthinkingly, unquestioningly, you reach for him. Your fingers lace into the silken tendrils and he lets a slow exhale wash over your face. His verdant eyes are so close. They’re fixated on yours, refusing to let you slip from his gaze again. 

You can’t breathe. There’s something else you want to scold him for, but...but his lips are so close. His nose bumps against yours and you bite your lower lip. He’s so warm. He smells nice too. It’s a rich smell, earthy, thick with some enticing aroma that’s all him. It floods your senses and you’re downing, distracted and lost. 

Tomura’s won this little stand-off because you reach for him first. Your fingertips urge him to you, one thumb dragging a familiar trail across the mole on his chin. His lips are chapped, rough, but oh, oh you’ve missed this. 

He lets you lead him, your lips pressing and lifting, planting feather light caresses against him. Your tongue swipes across his lower lip and he groans. It’s a husky, broken sound and it makes you yank at his clothes. His new suit crumples under your hands. You’d almost feel bad, if he hadn’t been such a neglectful ass to you. You’re nipping at him now, your kisses losing that sweet vulnerability.

Tomura approves of this frantic pace and one arm cages against your back, lifting you closer and dragging you against his front. His crutch clatters to the floor, but neither of you have the wherewithal to care. 

Besides, you think happily, you can be his crutch now.

He’s biting and sucking, his teeth drifting from your trembling lips and pressing into your pulse. One particularly hard nip has you arching into him, a gasping whimper on your lips. His tongue laves over the hurt, lulling the nip. 

Your hips instinctually lean into the his and you moan when you feel the hardness that is waiting for you there. Tomura presses back, dipping his nose into the juncture of your shoulder, his lips distractedly kissing against your skin. Your fingers trace down his front again and one hand goes lower still, running along his pants until you find what you’re searching for. 

He growls when you apply just the right amount of pressure and he’s pulling your lips back to his, demanding more. You’re skirting your other hand to the clasp of his belt when someone barges in the door.

Gasping, you start to pull away, trying to turn, but Tomura holds you to him, lifting his chin until it’s resting against your shoulder. He’s glaring out at whomever the fuck is standing in the doorway, but his fingertips are moving against you, pressing and soothing down your fevered skin.

“Hey boss- ah…” Dabi is brought up short by the sight that greets him and you can hear the sneer that he must have thrown Tomura’s way. 

Tomura, for his part, is quiet, content to silently stare down the man who stupidly interrupted him. He turns his head a fraction of an inch, but it’s enough room for him to drag his rough lips against your neck. You quake at the stimulation and hear Dabi let out a barking laugh.

“Ew, well this is fucking disgusting. Looks like the two of you can go back to fucking normal, eh (Y/N)? You and boss man can bone and get all that pent up insecurity out of your-”

“Get the fuck out,” you and Tomura say in unison.

You hear another scoffing chuckle and then the door slams shut.

Notes: The Dabi bits miiiight be in there because I finally got my belated birthday present of his Banpresto figure in today ԅ(≖◡≖ԅ)  

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx​, @yixxes​, @ghstmthr​, @evesmores​

*I think that’s everyone for now. If you wanna be added to a list just drop me a line & I’ll get you on the Google Doc: Shigaraki works, Dabi works, Hawks works, BNHA works, All works...works, works. There’s likely more to come, but that’s what I got for now. k byeeee.

[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 3)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 2.2K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol).

Chapter Note: let me know what you think

Tag List:  lonelydance mysearchforgratification

Other Parts: See Masterlist

FIVE WEEKS LATER

With the amount of work you had had in the lab in December, five weeks passed by easily, and before you could truly process what had become of time, you had spent your first Christmas ever away from England.

Still, even though five weeks had passed by, you caught yourself thinking about this guy, this Rafa, annoyingly often. 

You couldn't believe that you had fallen for (what you assumed were) his regular normie cad tricks: He had talked you up, walked you home, made you feel special, and then he hadn't given you any sign of life since then - and now the complete lack of contact was driving you insane! You knew that he was only interested in the shag, and so were you to be honest, but it still annoyed you immensely that the mere thought of him roughing you up had taken over most of your thoughts.

As if Rafa was a professional womaniser, it had only taken him a couple of hours and an obnoxious fuck boy-attitude to etch himself into your brain. And five weeks later, he was still on your mind?! What was going on with you? If you'd only invited him inside to boff back then, he probably wouldn't even have been the least bit interesting here five weeks later.

Thus, irritated with yourself and your flair for the dramatic, you often cursed yourself for having left him on the pavement that night back in November. On the night in question, however, the need to stand up to his spoiled attitude had been stronger than the urge to let him win and shag him senseless - and as a result, you often found yourself fantasising about him when you lay in bed at night. So in a way, he had won anyway.

And you hated it. You hated that he had somehow gotten to you. The way he had acted around you had made you aware that this boy was an avid smooth talker who was probably used to get whatever and whomever he wanted by any means necessary.

And you were having none of it. Forgetting about him was definitely for the best. You needed someone to knock the naughty thoughts of him out of your mind. By any means necessary.

You had never really cared much for New Years Eve, but this year, you found yourself in the right spirit for the first time ever. You had changed into the most form-fitting, festive dress you owned in the hopes of meeting a cute guy with whom you could spend the night. A guy who could knock the last thoughts of Rafa out of your head.

In the mood for an eventful evening, you had showed up for Miranda's all-girls pre-party right on time, tagging your roommate Samantha along with you. The first part of the evening passed by quickly; you had loads of champagne and ate a fancy dinner at Miranda's place surrounded by all of her best friends and some of your colleagues from the Hospital. You had all clinked to the new year as the date shifted to January 1st and you soon found yourself in a taxi on the way to an exclusive party downtown that Miranda's friend had secured you all tickets for. Big, fancy parties like this wasn't normally your scene, but you could make an exception for tonight. It was New Years, after all.

You had arrived at the club, had had a few drinks at your private table, and had even talked to some pretty cute guys, but for some reason they all bored you. At one point you found yourself cornered by a handsome - but particularly boring - gentleman when Samatha finally saved you.

"I just flirted my way to a bottle of champagne!" she squealed as she came running towards you with a magnum flask in hand.

"You did what?" you laughed at your bubbly roomie, the bore of a man by your side already forgotten.

"I just asked a random guy at the bar if he wanted to buy a table of pretty girls a drink - and the patsy did," she laughed, "not in my wildest imagination had I ever expected him actually to do it," she squealed as she twisted off the cork with a loud pop.

"So you just let the poor guy pay for it and then you ran away?" you laughed at her while holding out your glass, waiting for her to fill it.

"I reckon he did it to make me go away - I think he may have found me annoying," Samantha laughed, "He told me to take the bottle back to my friends' table and clink his glass from a distance. Look, it's him over there," she raised her glass to a guy that you recognised immediately; you would've recognised those fluffy black curls anywhere.

Rafa's friend Diggs.

When he noticed you looking at him, he too raised his glass and sent you a warm smile, silently telling you that he definitely recognised you too.

"Hey; I know that guy," you said slowly, "I met him when I'd just moved here."

"You know him?" Samantha stared at you with a sly smile, "Probably why he was so eager for me to bring the champagne back to the table instead of drinking it at the bar with him. How well do you know him if you don't mind my asking?" Samantha wriggled her eyebrows.

"Not like that," you laughed, "I only talked to him for a couple of minutes."

Samantha nudged you with her elbow, "you should go thank him."

"Yeah," you hesitated, turning away from him, "I'm honestly surprised he even recognises me."

"Well, you must've made quite the impression," Samantha was still looking at him from over your shoulder, "Oh shit, he's coming over here right now," she squealed in a whisper.

"Be cool!" you laughed before turning around, suddenly face to face with Diggs.

"Happy new year," he smiled and squinted his eyes slightly, "I think we've met before."

You nodded, reciprocating his wide smile, "we have. You're Rafa's friend," the words escaped your mouth before you could stop them.

He nodded, "...and you're Rafa's girl."

You could feel your cheeks getting warm now, "I've had like an hour long conversation with him. I would hardly refer to myself as his girl," you squinted your eyes at the handsome man in front of you.

He shrugged and laughed, "you know what I mean."

You cleared your throat, "well thanks for the champagne. You really didn't have to."

"I wanted to," he smiled, "I was hoping to catch your attention."

"Why? We've exchanged about ten words..."

"Yeah, but I'm sure Rafa would love to see you again."

"He's here?" your eyes widened. The mere thought of meeting Rafa again tonight was making your heart beat faster. You reminded yourself that you needed to keep your cool. He may be handsome and charming but he was also loud and obnoxious and a sleaze.

"We have a table in the back," Diggs nodded and pointed to an area that was cordoned off with red rope, "you should come with me."

"I don't think so," you managed to say with as much clarity as you could muster. You needed someone to help you get rid of Rafa - not indulge further in him. He was dangerous.

"Aw, come on," Diggs smiled charmingly.

"What makes you think he even wants to see me?" You tried, "as I said; I've had an hour-long conversation with him over a month ago."

"Trust me," he smiled convincingly, "I know my best friend. Are you coming or what?"

You weren't exactly sure whether it was a good idea or not. You were quite sure that if Rafa was acting just half as charming as last time, you'd be throwing yourself at him at the first chance you got and you were scared that his bad boy demeanour might lead to you wanting more even though you were going home in a couple of weeks. ..But then again, you were on the prowl for someone who could knock Rafa out of your head. Maybe actually being with him would be enough to finally close that chapter.

"Oh, she's coming!" Samantha said loudly while giving your back a small shove.

"Great!" Diggs shot you a blinding smile and stretched out his hand for you to take.

"Uhm, okay..." you said, actually glad that Samantha had made a decision for you.

As Diggs pulled you towards him, you looked back at Samantha who was looking at you with huge eyes and moving her lips without any sound, "who's Rafa?" she mouthed.

"I'll tell you later, okay?" you whispered to your friend.

Samantha tilted her head and whispered back, "well, if all of his friends are just as handsome as that guy," she nodded towards Diggs, "you're coming back for me!"

You laughed at her, "of course. I'll see you later," you said before taking Diggs' hand, following him straight through the club's dance floor and towards the closed off area.

When he reached the bouncer, he pulled up his sleeve and showed him a stamp on his wrist. "She's with me," he nodded towards you and the bouncer stepped aside, letting both of you enter the scene behind the red rope.

"Is this some sort of VIP area?" you asked Diggs as you took in the room that had been closed off to the rest of the party. The tables back here looked far more fancy and were lined with much more expensive booze than what had been available where you had been sitting only moments before.

Diggs looked at you with a weird expression, "Uh yeah..."

"It looks very expensive."

"Yeah, well..." he looked a bit uncomfortable, "we  - uh - we have a good friend who's a bit over the top with these things, but we just roll with it."

He sounded weird. Almost as if he was lying. You quickly shrugged it off, however, telling yourself that of course he was being honest; it would've been a weird thing to lie about. "Must be a good friend for you to spend this amount of money on his comfort," you mumbled as you watched a girl open up a bottle of ridiculously expensive vodka.

"Yes, well... come on," Diggs said and urged you to follow him.

You scanned the room as you tagged along Diggs, noticing several low-key famous people that you were sure were known for something semi-popular but that you couldn't quite place your finger on. You'd never really been the type to care for fame. Still, you turned to Diggs and asked, "hold up; are you famous or something?"

Diggs sent you a shrug, "...or something," he said mysteriously and pointed to a table in the far back, "our table is over there."

Slowly, you turned your gaze away from him with a feeling that you were definitely missing out on something. You followed the direction that he was pointing in and found a table lined with people. You quickly scanned their faces, eyes landing on Rafa almost immediately.

Just as you had expected, he was laughing obnoxiously loud, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down in his throat in time with his vociforous outbursts of laughter. He was wearing a dark suit and he had his blonde hair slightly slicked back, making him look particularly dark and handsome. It was pure sex.

Okay, you definitely needed to keep your cool.

He was chatting up a very attractive girl who was twirling her black hair between her fingers and smiling suggestively at him. His signature charming smile was in place as he leaned closer to her and whispered something in her ear. Whatever he was saying was definitely working as she kept touching his arm and batting her eyelashes seductively. He seemed to enjoy the attention, scooting closer and closer to the beautiful woman with each passing sentence. The sight of it made your stomach drop slightly.

You contemplated turning around and go back to Samantha before Rafa had had the chance to see you. Clearly, he was busy. You told yourself that you didn't want to be the reason why he was striking out with this girl who he was clearly trying to charm the knickers off - when in reality, you were angry with yourself; It was stupid of you to think that he actually wanted to see you when he hadn't stopped by since that night five weeks ago.

You took a step backwards to go back to Samantha but immediately felt Diggs standing behind you like a concrete wall. His palm came into contact with your back as he gave you a light shove between your shoulder blades, pushing you towards the table. "Hey Rafa!" he called out, "look who I found!"

[spiltscribbles]

Oooh! Prompts! Remus and Sirius moving in together please! 💛

Notes: Thank you SO SO much gorgeous<3 I’m like kinda embarrassed that this is kinda shit, especially because you’re writing is so fucking gorgeous, so I’m sorry.

.-

A Reblog Is Worth A Thousand Stars  |  Send Me A Prompt 

.-

“YOU!”

With a start that almost makes him drop the vase in his hands, Sirius turns around to find his surly looking  boyfriend glaring daggers straight at him, lips pursed and nose wrinkled ever so fetchingly. “Me?”

“You!”

“ Is this a Muggle game of semantics or something Moons, because for the life of me I’m not following.”

Remus’s glower only deepens, radiating a distinct sort of disapproval that could only ever be  honed in by years of prefectness. “You thief!” He squawks, hands perched on his hips, and mouth twisted up mutinously.

“Is this the part where you say I stole your heart?” Sirius goads with a cocked brow, resuming their unpacking.  “Because love, that line gets old after the millionth recital, but I do appreciate the spirit.”

“Wha? Na—no that is not what I was going to say you egotistical prick!” Remus scoffs— just a bit flustered with a dusting of pink touching the tops of his sharp cheekbones. “You ate the last spring role!” He accuses emphatically, almost tripping over the over a dozen boxes that are strewn across their newly furnished living room. Sirius can’t help but be endeared by Remus and his everythingness. 

“Yes, yes I did Wise Guy,” He confirms distractedly. “I also dipped it into some spicy mustard and drank a bottle of water while I was at it… Your point being?”

“My point you utter berk is that it was mine! I called dibs!”

“I remember no such thing,” Sirius sniffs haughtily, moving to rearrange the photographs  on their mantel. (And yeah, it’s still fucking insane to him that he’s become so domestic that he’s got a mantel over the fireplace that the man he loves more than any other had insisted was absolutely crucial to have if they were to move in together—probably for really romantical love making sessions in front  of it’s flames with the bliss of  no worries of anyone barging in on them, or griping  if they were being to loud—Which by the way, James honestly  had no right in complaining about considering his track record with his and Lily’s on again, off again mating ritual.

“Liar!" Sirius honestly  wouldn’t be surprised if Remus started stomping his feet right about now, and pouting up a storm if the childishly  cross expression    on his pretty face is anything to go by. (And honestly how could one man be so adorable and sexy all at once.)  “You were finishing up the shrimp tempura— because you are a posh idiot without any tastebuds— , and I said that I’ll be right back to get some of the boxes in the spare room, and to save it for me! And then I come here, and I find this! This breach of all we’ve built together!”

Sirius barely conceals his snort. “Is that right? The foundations of our whole, entire bloody relationship? And right after this afternoon, when I made you—“

Two spots of color blotch high on Remus’s cheeks and he cuts him off before Sirius can completely recount the frankly remarkable romp they had just finished with before deciding they needed some nourishment before getting back to unpacking. “Don’t you try to change the subject you stealing stealer who steals!”

“That insult leaves something to be desired Moonbeam.”

“You’re a prick.”

“And you wound me!” Sirius mock sobs, slamming his fist against his chest and swinging back his arm against his forehead. “A plague on you, and your family! And another on your family’s cow.”

Remus’s face morphs into his painfully unimpressed expression, (Hint, it’s very, very flat). “I’ll take your intentional dodge as an admission,” He scoffs, arms crossed tight against his chest.

“I admit nothing!” Sirius shouts in an overdone accent that would better fit the set of Downton Abbey. “Nothing Lupin!”

Remus rolls his eyes at Sirius’s hyperbolic attitude, and okay. Yes. Perhaps Sirius remembers a similar conversation akin to what Remus had described  occurring only ten minutes prior. But to be quite honest, Sirius was hardly listening. Remus’s got on one of Sirius’s oversized t-shirts, a pair of boxer-briefs,  and nothing else. So yeah, he should definitely not be expected to be paying anything any mind while his beyond gorgeous boyfriend is sitting there, impossibly long legs put out for display, and one perfectly alabaster   shoulder bare where the shirt has slipped right off, effectively derailing  Sirius's thoughts to how he’d teasingly kissed across his collar bone just earlier that night, nibbling on the hinge of his jaw while Remus had been  writhing beneath him. so   Really and truly, he should’ve never been expected to remember anything— let alone something as trivial as dibs—  if his utterly perfect partner is right there for the taking, a determined dent between his brows, and intermittently rinsing his hand through his disheveled locks of hair like  spun gold, excited  over the prospect of fixing up this flat that is now their home.

Dear Merlin above   does Sirius love this bloke with every fiber of his being.

“Well,” he relents, swaggering up closer to Remus so that they’re standing only inches apart.  “Even if I did remember that such a discussion had taken place how you’ve described it—“

“It did, and you know it Black!” He harrumphs, using Sirius’s  surname just to get a rise out of him.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now love, is There?.”

Sirius’s sure that he’s won the argument and they could just move on, until he catches the glint in Remus’s impossibly luminous eyes—a glint that always means trouble, a glint that’s never failed to make each one of Sirius’s nerve endings go ablaze.

“Is that right?”

“I reckon it is Moonbeam,” he leers, is momentarily distracted by the downright angelic smile Remus casts his way right then, but suddenly, an onslaught of fingers are piercing into his ribs, wiggling and tickling him into submission.

“Say you’re sorry!” Remus demands, an effortless grin of his own swept across his lovely face, brighter than the morning sun. And yeah, maybe Sirius should just admit that it was his bad, apologize a thousand times over in the form of lingering kisses and caressing hands.… But the thing is, Sirius’s  stubbornness  has always been too rigid for his own good, and he’s always loved prodding at Remus till He just went off like the world’s most darling firecrackers.

“Never you absolute wanker!”

“I won’t relent till you profess an apology to my satisfaction,” Remus scoffs— a playful giggle lilting his overly formal words.

“And I won’t surrender!” He parries with a leer. Sirius tickles back  harder, and Remus  shimmies around so much that He ends up jabbing him in the eye,  ramming straight into his chest, and  effectively sprawling them—all long limbs and crooked angles—onto the wooden floorboards.

“Just say you’re sorry!” He insists, strangled laughter starting to gargle his words while Sirius just gazes down at him, mercilessly besotted.

“”S not my fault you didn’t take it with you Lupin, i’ve committed no grievance.”

“Oh come off it pretty boy.”

“Oy! I’m ruggedly handsome you arse!”

“Testy, testy.”

 “You’re the pretty one.”

“Oh suck my cock.”

“Been there done that.”

Remus seems to be fighting down another laugh before he knees him lightly in the abdomen enough that Sirius tenses, giving Remus the chance to  switch their positions once again, so that  He’s back  on top. 

“My have the tables turned,” He taunts with one of his most dazzling smiles, dimples in full effect, and crinkles around his pretty sea glass eyes.

“I like how you think I’m at all opposed to this position,” Sirius says with a pixilated gleam, arching back enough so that their cotton clad dicks buck up against each other.

“Perv!” Remus scolds, smacking his chest playfully. “Now admit that I won!”

“Never!”

 Somehow, amidst all the thrashing bodies and choked peals of laughter, Sirius flips him over— slight body beneath his own, with Remus’s wrists pinned over his head and his legs wrapped around Sirius’s waste.

“Now, now Monsieur Moony, I reckon that spring has rolled into winter for you,” Sirius most definitely does not laugh raucously    at his own pun.

“That’s not even the direction that the seasons go in,” Remus frowns, nose wrinkled indelicately, a tell Sirius’s picked up on whenever He’s mad over an outcome.

“You still lost though,” Sirius barbs with no real bite, pecking a quick kiss to his lips in solace.

“You’re awful, and I’m breaking up with you,” Remus sniffs in turn—wiggling underneath him to try and get loose.

“Oh, you love me really.” Sirius preens like the cat who’s caught the canary— the world’s most beautiful and brilliant and ruffled canary that is.

“Lies and slander!” Remus waggles his tongue between his teeth, and Sirius dips down to bite it teasingly. 

“Hmm, now isn’t this cute,” the pair scramble away from each other, utterly stunned once spotting Lily of all people, gaze twinkling and lips set into a firm smirk, eyeing them while leisurely lounging against the door frame. 

“You two really can’t keep yr sodding hands off of each other, can you?”

Remus completely reddens, totally flustered, while Sirius only follies back a smug sort of grin at the force of nature  that is Lily Evans, his practical sister-in-law, remus’s best friend, and all around genius.

“How long have you been watching Red dearest,” Sirius asks wryly, making it so now Lily’s the one who’s flushing..

“I hate you Black.” She says shortly, and Sirius’s beam doesn’t falter. “Re, as your spiritual older sister—“

“You’re barely a month older Lils,” Remus interjects, but Lily just goes on as if he hadn’t.

 “I think it’s my job to remind you that he’s not the only bloke in London with a decent shoulder to waste ratio and nice hair. We can snag you someone with a bit of brains even.”

Sirius tosses her a V shaped salute, and Lily sticks her tongue out in retaliation,  but for his part, Remus only tries to cut through the tension with one of his friendlier grins, though it just comes out as an awkward grimace. “I forgot that you’re dropping off the boxes tonight.”

“Evidently Ace,” she snorts, strutting further into the apartment and setting down the box of photos Remus had asked her to bring over from their old place. “Far too busy snogging with the boy who single handedly received the most detentions in Hogwarts history, while also, somehow— by the grace of God— threatened our stances as top of the class.”

“Oy Evans, can’t take all the credit for myself. Jem was my better half, till he moved on to the likes of you.”

Lily ignores him, save for the way her pretty face gets a bit scrunched out of irritation. “Ace, I ask you, what would McGonagall say if she saw her favorite prefect gallivanting around with such a delinquent.

Remus lets out one of his rare and beautiful laughs, something that feels buoyant and is really more breath than sound, but is still so vibrant and splendid and it never fails to thrust Sirius back to the Hogwarts Express, where he and Remus had first met as a couple of wide eyed eleven year olds, and all the contradicting emotions Remus had provoked upon first sight. Wonder, and confusion. Intrigue, and diffidence. Wanting, and fear. It’s an attribute of Remus's that Sirius will never not be amazed by.

“Ah, Minnie my love, how I do miss her so, now where were we Moonbeam?”

“I’m still standing here Black,” Lily reproves with a scoff.

“I think it was about here,” Sirius continues, dipping down to kiss at Remus’s protruding  collar bones.

“Settle down mutt,” Remus rebukes with no real heat, a gentle hand carding through Sirius’s hair.

“God, you two are already an old married couple.”

“You really do know the best moments to interrupt sweetheart.” Sirius snipes with a playful roll to his eyes, his hand discretely resting over the small of Remus’s back.

“And you have no decency, corrupting   Remus the way that you do.”

“Okay first, I take fucking offense, you know better than me that Moony here was the mastermind behind most of our delightful pranks.”

“You mean your childish inconveniences you plagued on the unsuspecting public?”

“And secondly, we didn’t even get to the fun, currupting   part because of your oh so lovely interruption.” Sirius retorts moodily, though he soon suspects the joke was a wrong play to make  when Lily’s smile suddenly goes predatory and sHe flips back a lock of her wind blown curls, ready to pounce. 

“Well perhaps I just stopped by to make sure you weren’t further defiling   my dear Remus. But I guess that giant love bite on your neck proves that I’m too late.”

Sirius can’t help the chuckle that pours out of his lips at her needled observation, smacking a hand to conceal the hickey sHe’s taunting him about, knowing exactly where it is, it’s been a topic of teasing all morning long from a smug Sirius to a properly indignant Remus.

“He-he just marks easily,” Remus pipes out, cheeks completely infused red and worrying on his bottom lip. Sirius suspects that Lily just knew that the one chink in his armor is prodding at Remus’s less than poised acts. 

Lily rolls her eyes in a way that convinces Sirius that sHe doesn’t believe it for a second. “Whatever you say oh Saint Remus,” sHe smirks with no more argument. “but pray tell, are you guys about done swapping spit around me? Or is that going to forever be a regular occurrence in the Remus and Sirius show?”

“Now I’d reckon that’ll get a sold out crowd every night, don’t you?” Sirius asks, directing his question at the pair of  of them while taking Remus’s hand, and pushing him even closer— just always preferring to have some sort of contact with him.

“Oh put a sock in it,” Remus harrumphs, finally starting to return to his normal coloring in the midst of Lily’s unrestrained cackles.

“Aw, don’t be shy love, it’s only the truth.”

Remus presses the pads of his fingers to Sirius’s lips and glares at him for good measure, “Some things are better left for private.”

“Hah,” Lily scoffs, weight slung to her left hip. “As if I don’t get a front row seat every time  you two are within even in a ten foot radius of each other—OH hey, I know that look Ace! The one eyed squint, and the teeth. Well your “I’m about to kill my gorgeous best friend,” look has no place here, i’ll see my way out now. Just promise not to christen every room in this place, kay? We’d all like to visit without the residual specs haunting us! And I know how moody you get without your daily dose of my scintillating company.”

Sirius thinks that Remus’s trying to skewer a whole in the spot where Lily was just standing, if the terribly cross look on his face says anything. It’s precious, Sirius can’t help but snicker.

“Don’t laugh at me! I’m your boyfriend for Merlin’s sake! You’re s’pose to be on my side!”

“I wasn’t laughing at you Moons,” he kisses the fingers Remus has still got on his mouth, mock consolatory.  “Just incredibly turned on.”

That dent between Remus’s brows is back again for a moment, but then his beauteous features smoothen out and He just pecks a quick kiss to Sirius’s lips before rifling through the box Lily brought over, muttering a light,”Whatever,” as He does so.

There’s a quick wrapping to the window, and Sirius glances over to find his owl— Odysseus— with a bundle of letters attached to his left leg. By rote, Sirius feeds him some of the pellets they keep  there for convenience, and unwinds the bundle of parchments, beginning to shuffle through them.

There’s a copy of the Nightly prophet with the murder of another Muggle family splattered all over the front cover in a sickeningly gauche manner, a free trial subscription to the Quibbler with a reading for Scorpios in the month of October, a letter from Peter about his mum and sisters driving him up the rails, an invitation from Marlene for he and Remus to come out to dinner with them for Dorcas’s Birthday, and a ominous letter from James of all paper that simply says a gift for Moony.

Bewildered to why he hadn’t just sent it along with Lily, Sirius tares off the attached photograph only to find something truly, horrendously vile. a photograph of himself. One that was definitely taken fifth year— Sirius’s worst year where he absolutely could not stand being around his family for a moment longer, and James was getting more settled with his studies, an Remus was dating that prefect prick from Ravenclaw and was exceedingly elusive from Marauders nights out.  This was so obviously taken on one of those aforementioned nights out that it’s comical.  Sirius’s hair is as long as it’s ever been— touching the tops of his shoulders— and he’s chugging down a fruity, pink concoction— the type  that Rosmerta was always cooking up for them— hand over fist, and he’s got on puppy ears and a fake nose. In layman’s terms he looks like a complete and total pillock. Drunk off his ass so much so that you can see the stars in his eyes even through the clunky glasses he had stolen from James— convinced that he was sporting them for purely esthetic reasons and not because the knob is actually as blind as a bloody bat— and his finger is pointed and mouth is open in the way it always is when he’s ranting about something or the other.

It’s perhaps the only photograph in history where Sirius isn’t looking his typical, jaw dropping gorgeous self.

There’s about a thousand different retorts he wants to scribble on a spare parchment and  shoot right back to James— ranging from nasty to downright despicable— but then he catches the familiar peal of laughter coming from behind him. He’s not surprised when he sees Remus—beautiful, ingenuous, perfect Remus who’s physically incapable of taking a photograph less than effortlessly lovely, even while pissed— peering over his shoulder in utter amusement.

“Oh My God I need to ask James to send me one of the hundreds of copies he surely has.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Sirius retorts darkly.

“I’ll use an enlarging charm and hang it up above the mantel, for prosperity. The one time Sirius looks the way he acts,” he moves his hand over an invisible marquee and looks so damn smug that Sirius could kiss him, and in fact, that’s exactly what he does.

“I hate him,” is all he says afterwards, once he’s pulled away.

“I can’t believe that’s you!” Remus continues with eyes full of mirth.

“I want to banish him, no. No I want to banish all of them. All of our friends, we can make knew ones Moons. I mean look at us! We’re a catch!” He tosses the letters onto the newly acquired sofa as if they have personally affronted  him and all he stands for.

“ Oh brilliant idea love.”

“That sounds like your sarcastic voice Moons.”

“No, you’ve got my full support. this’s our castle Pads, we can banish whom ever we like,” Remus balances on his tiptoes,  and smacks an exasperated kiss onto his cheek. Sirius can barely contain the glee that’s dancing in his eyes at the thought of this being their own personal castle— a fortress just for the pair of them to escape within—  causing another swell of fondness to pound in his chest.

“Well maybe we can give’m another chance,” he relents, melting into how Remus’s locked his arms around his neck, and is smiling up at him with all the love in the world shining unadulteratedly in his lovely eyes. “I mean they did help us move all those boxes and all.”

Remus hums his agreement while he presses his forehead against his own, endlessly endeared.

“What a generous king,” He goads, words hugged with fondness. 

“Ooo, I like that, call me that in bed and I might bless you with my royal sector.”

Remus thumps his nose, “Your more tolerable when you don’t speak and just stand there being pretty.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty Moonykins?”

Remus shakes his head ruefully, the smile on his face one that Sirius knows well— one that means he’s reluctantly endeared. “Dork.”

“Plonker.”

There lips meet for another kiss and it feels like all the resplendence in the galaxy being distilled between just the two of them.

[vanchlo]

Green Eyes

*Thanks so much for reading! c: There are now several parts you can read here:   2    3    4 

I’m so happy to share that I won a fiction writing award for this short story through my college’s art journal! c: 

Blurb Synopsis: You had been subbing for Mr. Styles for the last couple of months, but you’ve yet to meet him. The notes you leave for each other have sparked a friendship, leading you to want more, and you wonder if he does too.

Genre: Teacher Harry, lots of fluff, friendship, and maybe even some romance? ;) 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5.5k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Green Eyes by Coldplay (click to listen)

*

His shelves were full of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Rumi, and Charles Bukowski. His desk was covered in scribbled Post-It notes, Bit-O-Honey wrappers, and empty mugs of tea. 

This is what you noticed the first few times you subbed in his classroom. 

These were the only details you knew about the man whose face you’ve never seen. As you gradually began to substitute for his high school English classes more and more, you learned about him more. This was due to his students, and his personal belongings. 

What he didn’t and didn’t like: all the way from no fringes on a notebook paper, no red pen ever because that was his grading color, no using the word ‘can’t’ in his class, and students can eat all the snacks they want as long as the trash goes in the bin where it belongs. 

The CDs in a stack on the shelf told you which ones he actually listened to because they were the ones that were on top and without dust. 

You learned that the pristine book on his desk was never the one he was reading. No, it was the weathered and used copy beside his mug with dog-eared pages and penciled notes. 

His drawers told you another story with their contents: boxes of teas ranging from peach to vanilla macaron, journals filled to the brim with words, adult coloring books with tv show themes, and books on Van Gogh and Monet hinting at his artsy background. His students slowly warmed up to you, and through them, so did he. 

At this point, you’d only been subbing for Mr. Styles the last five months, racking up around two and a half weeks worth of subbed days. He always left precise and concise lesson plans for you. The books were where he said they’d be. The webpages he mentioned were bookmarked on his desktop. The teacher copy of the textbook and current group book were on his desk. At the beginning, his desk looked like a professional organizer had gotten their hands on it. Slowly, as you came to sub more for him, it grew messier, albeit you kept it tidy during your appearances. As the first few months passed and you became one of the few subs in his room, you started to find notes. They weren’t just any notes. They were more than the straight forward sub notes for the day’s agenda. No, they weren’t that simple. You can still remember the first one you found on a Post-It note - it went like this: 

Y/N, peanut butter on your waffles or syrup? 

It took you by surprise, but nonetheless, you answered his call. Each time, you’d find a contrasting pen color and scrawl your answer underneath his. Then leaving it somewhere he would find it the next day. They were one-liners at the beginning, and always interesting. Walking to his classroom from your car on those mornings, you’d fill with excitement at the anticipation of finding the next one. Sometimes it took you the entire day to find where he had hidden them. 

In the closet. 

In a nook in a drawer. 

Under the chair. 

On the backside of one of his books. 

Hidden in plain sight amongst his current choice of notes and lists. 

They never failed to spark a smile on your lips, whether it was quirky, confused, astounded or humored. 

Guitar or piano?

FRIENDS or The Simpsons?

Vanilla or Chocolate?

Would you rather become a superhero or a wizard?

The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?

Slowly, the questions became more personal, and more than just ‘this or that.’ His questions became longer, and so did your answers.  

What was the moment that made you decide to become a teacher?

Is Donny a good student for you, or is he lying to me about that?

What color are your eyes?

What book/film do you believe had the largest impact on you while growing up?

What is the one meal you always order at a restaurant?

Do you have a family?

Should I splurge and buy a new desk chair?

What book should I buy for my classroom you think I need to have? Why?

Why don’t you have a classroom of your own?

When is your birthday?

Star Wars or Lord of the Rings?

They were never a chore for you, or tedious. No, they were fun and you felt as if you saw a little sliver of who he really was with each note. After a while, you started to write and leave your own notes for him to answer. At first, many of them were similar to ones he had left you, because you wanted to hear his responses, too. 

*

The newest one stares back at you, his half-cursive registering in your eyes.

What’s your favorite part about subbing in my classroom? Don’t say the students, that’s what everybody says. 

Giggling to yourself, you reach over to his Pink Floyd mug to pull out a green pen. You take a moment to think of your answer. This time you found the note peeking out from behind the smart whiteboard. The sounds of the end of a school day tickle at your ears as you scribble down your answer. Pressing it to an open square of wood on his desk, you turn back to the royal blue pad of Post-Its. Peeling one off, the green pen hovers over the paper, but you can’t get yourself to write the question you’ve been wanting to know all along. 

He didn’t have a Facebook, or an Instagram. 

The high school doesn’t have a wall of staff pictures like others you’ve subbed at do. 

It’s late winter, so yearbooks are still a ways off. 

For all you know, you could have seen him here before in the halls when you subbed in another classroom. 

Exhaling, you press the pen to the paper before you can convince yourself to stop. Unlike the many times before when your fears got the best of you. 

What do you look like?

With a proud but nervous smile you stick it to the desk, layering the first note on top. It sticks to your lips as you bend down to reach your hand into your bag. The glossy bag greets your hand, and you pull it out to set down beside the note. 

A small bag of Bit-O-Honeys. 

Looking up, your eyes scan the empty classroom. Few footsteps, voices, and lockers slamming trickle in from the halls. You suddenly realize that this is the same view he sees, these are the same sounds he hears, and the same place he sits in every day. Well, when he’s not away on personal days, sick days, on holiday, and at workshops, hence your appearances. The thought knits something together inside of you, making you feel just that bit more closer to him. Something that’s been slowly happening over time since you first stepped foot in his classroom. 

One of the first things that did this was the posters scattered across his walls. A poster from the 2013 remake of The Great Gatsby, The Beatles’ Abbey Road album cover, a cartoon of William Shakespeare, a unifying print of Keith Haring’s art, and several posters of quotes from famous books - To Kill A Mockingbird, the Kite Runner, Of Mice and Men, The Life of Pi, and even The Hunger Games. It delighted you watching him add some of them to the walls since your time here, and you’ve been itching to purchase him one as a gift. You’re unsure of what he would like though, and the fear of failure has held you back from doing so. 

A bleep! catches your attention. Casting your eyes to the dormant desktop screen, you wiggle the mouse. A red circle has appeared on the title of a tab opened to your professional email. Clicking over to it from a YouTube video he had you show the class, you find you have a new message. At the sight of who sent it, your heart skips a beat: harry.styles@isd . . . . . . . 

Hi. I reckon you’re still sitting at my desk this moment, now that’s a funny thought. I wanted to ask you a question while I remembered. I have to go out of town on Friday for a funeral. Believe me, I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, but these things are a must. I apologize for it being short notice, but I thought I’d ask you if you would like to take it before I posted it to the sub database. Please let me know either way by tonight, so it has a few days to sit on the website to be claimed. Also, I wanted to say thanks for everything you do. My students really love you, and it makes me wonder what I’m missing. Enjoy your night! 

Sincerely,

Harry Styles

“Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you. - WW”

A smile warms your cheeks as you finish reading his words, and the familiar poem that ends every email of his. You quickly type up a response to him, agreeing to take the job on Friday, thanking him for thinking of you. A new email appears in your inbox shortly after from another colleague, which occupies you before you lose yourself in your thoughts again. 

Perhaps your favorite addition in his classroom is the Fender acoustic sitting on a stand in the corner. Of course, you’ve yet to see it move in the last five months. The stories his students have told you in a way have given it legs of its own in your mind. Much like the little notes you’ve been leaving for each other, something you dread ever ending. 

*

It was a Wednesday. You’re convinced that Mrs. Watson’s Pre-Calc class is surely the bane of your existence. You keep cursing yourself for taking sub assignments for math classes. Seeing that you’re terrible at the subject, you vowed you’d never take one of her assignments again, but you have to pay the bills somehow. You found your respite in the cozy staff lounge. Couches lined two of the walls, along with an arrangement of tables on the other side of the room. 

As you walk in, you see that one of the ancient history teachers has nodded off again on the plaid couch. Otherwise, the room is empty, and all to yourself. If that didn’t make you happy before, the assortment of food on the counter definitely does. 

Voices float in through the open door as the plastic lid to the cupcakes opens with a pop! 

“Ah, looks like ya got tha last chocolate one. I was savin’ that one fer me,” a voice comments from behind you. Turning, you find a tall man in his late 20’s walking towards you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you can have it,” you volunteer, holding the blue-iced cupcake out for his taking. 

His blush lips curl up with an amused smile. Dimples fall neatly into his cheeks covered with thick stubble. Its deep brown color matches that of the short quiffed curls atop his head. Misty green eyes stare back at you in the middle of his round, but sharp face. “‘m only joking. Go ahead and have it. I already had one earlier. They’re quite good actually, but I dunno ‘bout tha vanilla. Never really cared fer tha flavoir when it comes t’ cake and ice cream,” he comments, passing you to stop at the nearby sink. 

“Yeah, I like to forget vanilla exists half of the time,” you remark, peeling away the paper liner of the cupcake. 

Leaning against the counter, you watch as his ringed hand grabs a red coffee mug from the cabinet. “So do I. ‘s ratha boring, if I do say so meself.”

Nodding to yourself, a silence follows your words. The sweetness of the cupcake is shocking when you take a bite. It makes you wonder how you devoured these sugar bombs as a child. A few beeps and a hum from the microwave echo throughout the room as you check your phone. 

“Y’know, I haven’t seen ya here at tha school befo’. Are ya new dis year or a sub?” he asks, bringing your eyes back to his lean figure. He pulls a yellow square packet from his tight-fitting black slats, a blush button-down tucked into its waist. 

“I started subbing here this year,” you answer before taking another bite of the cupcake. Half of it consists of the sickeningly sweet frosting that makes your teeth ache. 

“Mmmm I see. How d’ya like it so far? Are ya a new teacher, ‘s that why yer subbin’?” 

“Yeah, I went back to school kinda late in the game after doing something else. I figure I’d sub for a little bit for some experience, because what’s another year of waiting by this time?” you comment, observing how he fiddles with his black tie while searching in the refrigerator. 

“Well, congratulations. ‘s a big step t’ go back t’ school fer sumthin’ ya love. ‘s a good profession, I reckon. I’ve been teaching fer 7 years, and here at dis school fer 5. Sumtimes schools even hire subs they’ve had when a position opens, so keep yer eyes open,” he tells you, turning to you with a smile, a yogurt in his hand. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, returning the smile. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Sure thing. I know it helped loads when I was a newbie. ‘ll see ya around, I gotta get back t’ class befo’ me students do first. Have a good one!” 

Walking towards you with the steaming cup of tea in his hands, he pats your arm with his other hand on the way out. Nodding at your ‘thank you’, a small ‘you’re welcome’ falls from his lips before the door closes behind him. Eating the last bite you can muster of the cupcake, you toss its remains in the bin. A thought worms its way into your mind as you sit down at the table. 

Wow, I wonder who that guy was? And is he married, because shit, he was handsome. 

*

The smell of orange essential oil greets you when you stepped foot into his classroom the next time. The state of his desk made you frown, and made you want to scratch the itch to clean it. You resisted it and didn’t, and that thought was taken away when his students began to find their desks. 

Another day of 7 classes came and went. 2 classes of Introduction to Creative Writing. 3 classes of American Literature. 2 classes of World Literature. Amusing YouTube videos broke up the monotony of your day, and those of his students. The lesson notes he left for you had become more concise as the months have passed, and as you learned from each other. The same couldn’t be said for the dish of Bit-O-Honeys on his desk that he’s kept stocked for your appearances. You’re just glad he’s put the bag you left for him to good use. All throughout your day you had been looking for his newest note, but this time it wasn’t in any of his usual spots. After correcting some quizzes from today, you finally found it in the bottom left-hand drawer of his mahogany desk. Stuck to a tall can of Coke, your favorite drink of choice. 

I’m sorry it’s warm, although I’m not sure how you like to drink it. I just find warm soda to be rather nasty. The answer to your question is I have green eyes, brown hair, I’m rather tall, and I like to dress up. Is that good enough for you? Now, what do you look like, love?

Your insides melt at the sight of his answer, but then you groan at the vagueness of it. Off the top of your head, you know there are at least 10 male teachers here at this school with brown hair, maybe more. Maybe even with green eyes, too, and you know that because you’ve seen them in the staff lounge or in the halls. The thought only grows worse when you lose count of  how many teachers there are here at this school. Let’s just say, there’s a lot. Yeah, that sure helps a whole lot. Annoyed, you pluck a pen from the green mug and answer his question with as little detail as possible. Two can play at this game, you think to yourself as you sigh. 

If you could have a jam session with any musician, dead or alive, who would it be?

Sticking the new note where its corner peeks out from under his tabletop calendar, your eyes return to the Coke. It’s undeniable, you feel a little less perturbed at him just at the sight of it. Only a little bit, that is. Sure, you’ve subbed for a countless number of teachers at this school, and more so in this school district. A few of them are even friends or relatives of yours, but you’d never connected with one before like you have with Harry. You just wish more than anything you could find out what he looks like and what he’s really like. Continuing to take his sub jobs doesn’t really help with that. It only drives you crazier wanting to know the other side of this fascinating human being. 

*

There he was, snoring on the couch again, tv remote in hand. The weather channel is playing, surprising you very little. Snickering, you yank open the door to the black refrigerator. After retrieving your striped black and blue lunchbox, you place the container of leftovers in the microwave. A laugh is heard over your shoulder, and when you turn, you find Green Eyes from the other day. 

Tittering as the door closes behind him, he says, “No fail, John ‘s always passed out on dat couch, I swear.”

“I know, it’s every time I’m here. Maybe he should just retire already so he can take his naps at home. Then maybe we could watch something on the tv for once,” you comment, shaking your head. Unpacking your lunch box, you take out a clementine, vanilla yogurt, and silverware. 

“Nah, he loves it too much. I don’t see him leavin’ anytime soon,” he remarks, walking past you to search the shelves of the fridge. “What’re we having’ t’day? Couldn’t find any cupcakes dis time?”

“No, those ones were too sweet anyways. They gave me a stomachache,” you complain with a grimace. The beeeeep! of the microwave interrupts your thoughts. 

“Mmmm, I dunno, I thought they were pretty good.” Rubbing his tummy, he pulls a breathy laugh from your lips. 

Your steaming container of leftovers almost burns your hands, and you dread trying to eat it within the next 10 minutes. Setting up for a lesson in Mr. Harrison’s classroom was a pain, making you wonder why you take any sub jobs besides Harry’s anymore. 

“No free food fer us t’day,” he pouts beside you, closing the fridge door before venturing to the vending machine in the corner. Your eyes drift to his outfit choice today - a white button-down topped with a buttoned vest the shade of ochre, all tucked into brown slacks.

“That’s why you pack a lunch. I thought you’d know the drill by now, since you said you’ve been teaching for a while.”

“I do, but sumtimes I forget. Yer already ahead o’ me with dat part, love,” he who doesn’t have a name answers with a short laugh. Sliding a leather wallet from his pocket, you see him type in a number before you sit down at the table. “Who are ya subbin’ fer t’day then?”

“I’m on the west side in the Science wing for Harrison. Bloody Bio.”

“Ugh, I neva cared fer science. Where were ya a few weeks ago when I last saw ya?” he questions, sliding out a chair across from you. An assortment of vending machine food hits the table with a slap - peanut M&M’s, a nutrigrain bar, and a bag of Sun Chips. 

“Upstairs in Watson’s Maths class. Remind me to never sub for her again, because I can’t understand Pre-Calc for the life of me. I never could in high school so I don’t know why I thought I could know,” you chuckle. A warmth fills your cheeks at the sight of his lips spreading into an amused smile. 

“Yeah, I neva cared fer Maths meself eitha. Numbas neva made a bit o’ sense t’ me, words were always betta,” he explains. You nod along with his words, your mouth occupied with a bite of spaghetti and meatballs. “What subject would ya like t’ teach once tha year’s ova an’ ya go searchin’ fer a job o’ yer own?”

“Um, probably something in English since that’s my focus area. Dabbling in History has been fun, though. I enjoy learning about it myself, and I always have a better time subbing in either of those classes,” you reveal. 

“I see,” he replies, his head going up and down. The crinkling of the granola bar wrapper fills the silence between you before he takes a bite. Crumbs pepper his chin, but he wipes them away from his thin beard. “How often d’ya sub here then?”

“I’d say probably 3 days a week typically, but some weeks are 4. Otherwise, I sometimes sub for a friend or somebody I know over at the middle school.”

“Ah, so yer license is sumthin’ like 8 - 12, ‘s it?” he inquires, picking up the black mug you hadn’t noticed he had. 

“Yeah, I thought that would give me a good range for those grades. With my experience now, I think I’d like to stay at the high school level though,” you continue, twirling you fork around in the noodles covered in tomato sauce. Crossing your legs, the satiny fabric of your black dress pants moves with you. 

“We could always use anotha good teacher here. Ya neva know what’ll happen,” he smiles, standing to his feet with his snacks held in his large hand. Returning his smile, he adds his mug to that hand, patting your back once on his way out. “See ya next time, love. Keep yer head up, it’ll get betta.” 

“Thanks,” you automatically respond with. When you go to say his name, you’re lost for words, because you suddenly remember you’ve never gotten it. Now, he’s already too far away to ask for it. 

Shrugging your shoulders, you stab a meatball with your fork, wondering when the next time will be that you’ll see him again. Because, he sure is nice to look at, and he’s nicer to you than anybody else here. 

*

Stevie Nicks or John Lennon, it’s a tough call. Okay, I’m doing two questions from now on, because you ask such good ones :( Who would you jam with then? Question #2: What was the last concert you went to?

This time, you found the Post-It before the school day even started. It was on the seat of his chair, making you think he wanted you to find it right away. You’re thinking maybe he remembered one of the last times you complained about how hard he had made it. Sometimes you worry about how excited you get to look for these each time you sub in his classroom, but then you remember it’s only once every few weeks. 

That can’t hurt, can it? 

That day the hallways were louder than they usually were after school. You attributed that to the boys’ semifinals basketball game set to be played tonight in the gymnasium. The school’s home team against a nearby rival school. Students couldn’t stop talking about it all day, and many of them shared they’d be sticking around after school to attend. Checking your watch, you note that you should have enough time to stop at home to eat dinner before coming back for it. Even though you hadn’t even known about it before today. 

The Sufjan Stevens song floating from his desktop fills the room as you get out books for tomorrow. Your hands are full with copies of The Kite Runner, making you feel grateful again to Harry- Mr. Styles for picking a decent classic for the class to read. Although you’d only read it a few years ago yourself, and it broke your heart, you’re excited to sub next time to help his World Lit class with it. 

“Oh hey, be careful there, yer gonna slip and fall with all o’ those,” somebody says from behind you, distracting you from your mission of bringing the pile of books from the closet to a desk. 

Don’t I know that voice? Turning your eyes to the doorway, you find Green Eyes walk in with a coat slung over his arm. Wait a second. 

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, but your actions that follow negate your words. Your eyes run over his familiar features, and slowly the puzzle pieces start to click in your head. Harry? A thought bomb explodes in your head, and the books tumble from your arms. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yer okay,” he murmurs, stopping in front of you. Kneeling down, you both begin to pick up the books, stacking them on top of each other. “Thanks for gettin’ me set up fer t’morrow though. I appreciate it.” 

“Mmmhmm,” is all you can say, because any words that want to come out can’t get past the lump in your throat. One that’s there because of the realization you just had.

Green Eyes and Harry are the same person. 

How did I not figure this out sooner? 

“So, ya must be Y/N, huh?” he giggles, his head bent down as he helps you pick up the books. 

“Y-Yeah, surprise,” you admit, and your laugh soon joins his. Before you know it, the both of you can’t stop laughing. 

“Here,” you hear him say. Looking up, you find him standing in front of you holding his hand out for you to take. A cozy looking maroon sweater covers his upper half, and blue jeans don the rest. “Fancy meetin’ you here,” he jokes in between laughs. 

“You’re right about that,” you answer, taking his hand. He helps you to your feet where you smooth down the violet skirt of your dress. “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots.”

“Yer not tha only one, love,” Harry comments, bending over to grab a stack of books. He begins to set one on each desk as he walks down the aisles of them. “But I s’pose there wasn’t any way t’ know.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find you on Facebook,” you confess, cursing yourself for the slip up a few seconds later. Lifting your head from the book you just set on a desk, you find his amused eyes on you across the room. 

“Ah, so ya were stalkin’ me, were ya?” he smirks, his delightful laugh following his words. 

“No, I wasn’t! You’re just one of the only colleagues I’ve subbed for who I’ve never met, or like don’t know what they look like.”

Your small stack soon disappears and when you return to the pile at the back of the room, he does too. 

“So, what d’ya think? Are ya disappointed then?”

“No,” you say automatically, lifting your eyes to his green ones that land on you. His cheeks lined with a thick, neat beard crease with dimples as he smiles at you. 

“Neither am I . . . .  Ms. Vance Joy fan,” he returns, holding your gaze. The sincerity in his words gets under your skin, going straight to your heart. The sarcastic joke inside of them makes you giggle. 

Clearing your throat, you look away with what you’re sure are blushing cheeks. Most likely, an entire blushing face. “What are you doing here, anyways, if you were gone for the day?”

“I can’t miss me boys’ big game, a few o’ me students are on tha team. I thought I’d catch up on sum emails and grading befo’hand, but didn’t know ya’d still be here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just leaving, anyways,” you mutter, your movements stilling. 

“I didn’t mean it dat way, love. ‘m glad we finally met, it was about time, anyways,” Harry insists, and you nod before continuing to place a book at each desk. “Hey wait, you said you were short and all plain in yer note. No, yer not, ya fibber.”

“Oh like your description was any more accurate,” you scoff lightheartedly, setting down a book before grabbing another from your dwindling stack. 

His rich laugh meets your ears, and you can’t resist looking over to him. “Ya didn’t give yerself enough credit, ya know,” he almost coos, and you swear your heart melted into a puddle right then and there. That’s if it hadn’t done so already when you realized he’s Green Eyes. Swoon. 

It’s hard to hold back the excitement curling at the edge of your lips. Soon, you run out of books again and when you take a peek at him, so has he. 

“Were ya gonna go?” he questions, and you deal him one when you look at him confused. “T’ tha game, I mean.”

Your body feels like jello, and that any move you make would be sloppy. Embarrassing. That’s the last thing you want to look like in front of him. With his dazzling smile, adorably dimpled cheeks, and the cozy vibes he’s giving off. Not to mention, the clean citrus scent wafting off of him. A smell you certainly would be okay with smelling for hours on end. If only. 

“Well bloody Rob around tha corner bailed on me, so I have an extra ticket now. Would ya like t’ join me? I was thinkin’ o’ grabbin’ a sub from ‘round tha corner befo’. Concession food ‘s always too expensive, and never worth tha lines at halftime,” Harry suggests, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. One corner of his mouth climbs up his cheek, making you feel like maybe you’re not alone in these jumbled feelings. Or in the fun you’ve had carrying on this blind relationship with him. 

“Yeah, that sounds like fun. Maybe we could get to know each other a little better than the few words Post-It notes can hold.”

Slowly, the other corner of his lips curls upwards, making the dimple fall into his cheek once again. Nodding, his lips split into a full-fledged smile, singing with a chuckle. “I’d really like that,” he reveals before venturing to the door and shutting off the light. Extending an arm, he waves a hand towards himself.

“Hold on, let me get my things.”

“No rush. ’s not like ‘ve waited seven months fer dis or anythin’,” he quips. By now, you’re certain your face resembles a tomato. You hope that in the muted light, perhaps he won’t notice. 

Hurriedly, you slip on your light coat and drape your bag over your shoulder. Your eyes catch something as you’re tucking your phone in your pocket. Grabbing one last thing, you turn to find him watching you from the lit doorway. 

“What?” he wonders aloud, still with that smile etched onto his face. One you’re fairly sure you could get used to seeing. 

“Here,” you tell him, placing the Post-It note in his palm. His fingers dotted with dark hairs brush against you, just for a second longer than need be. 

“Ah, can’t forget dis now. Important stuff here.”

“Indeed,” you note, stifling a laugh as the sarcasm floats in the air. 

You observe his eyes flit across the paper holding your cursive as your steps echo down the empty hallway. 

“Hmmm, funny. It says ‘would you like to meet up sometime’ on here,” Harry reads, casting his twinkling eyes to you. Green eyes. “I was jus’ ‘bout t’ ask ya tha same thing on me next note. But I had sumthin’ that woulda took tha cake fer sure.”

“What’s that?” you remark, wondering how that could be. Those thoughts fly out the window when you feel his arm come around your shoulder. A squeal sounds inside of your head, but hey, at least that’s far less embarrassing than doing it out loud. 

“I was gonna tell ya dat Tracy across tha hall from me ‘s leavin’ afta dis year, and I may have recommended a certain sumbody t’ tha principal t’ replace her,” Harry hums, a knowing glint dancing in his eyes as they hover over you. “What d’ya say t’ bein’ colleagues instead o’ bein’ me sub?”

“I think I could get used to that,” you answer, letting your smile take over your entire face.

“So could I, love. So could I.” 

[lilmissbeanie]

Navigation Haikyuu Masterlist

Tetsuro Kuroo x F!Reader. Fluffy Word Count ~ 4.3k Happy very late birthday to a dear friend of mine, I hope you had a great day girl! 

KozumeKenma is going live! 

The girl grinned at the notification that flashed up at the top of the screen of her phone. Her favourite streamer who she had been watching since he started streaming, she had just randomly found him playing some Minecraft years ago and decided to watch, she had been a loyal follower since that day, his streams always made her laugh and she loved how relaxed he was, she would often pop up in the chat, commenting on the game. Kenma had recognised her as one of his top fans, she had VIP status on his streams and he always said hi to her. Y/n had noticed that he was looking a little more run down recently, so she would often pop up telling him to hydrate or go get some food. She often used buying a treat for Kenma through streamer treats and he would often scold her for another pizza or ice cream Sundae, but Y/n knew he didn't mean it especially when it was her favorite pizza, she had been sending water with them too as the boy seemed to live on soft drinks. 

Opening her laptop she turned it waiting for it to load up, it usually took a little while now, she needed to get a new one, this one had to be about seven years old now so it was starting to get a little slow now but it still did the job for now anyway. While she waited, her fingers tapped against keyboard on her slightly cracked screen of her phone, 

Snowy Bluewolf: Happy wednesday! How are you?   

She heard Kenma chuckle, of course she was the first to message the chat. “Hey there, as always you are straight in the chat Wolfie.” Kenma gave a smile seeing her username, Snowy Bluewolf. “I’m good thank you, how is your lock down wednesday going?” 

Snowy Bluewolf:: Ah you know the usual, I got out of bed, moved to the couch to play on the ps4 and haven’t moved since unless to get food or another drink.   

“Ah, what have you been playing today?”   

Snowy Bluewolf: Just some bloodborne, still terrible at the game 

He chuckled, “It is a hard game wolfie, the offer still stands, anytime.”  She smiled, she had told him she had started playing bloodborne over the lockdown and that she was finding the game incredibly difficult and he had offered to help her out if need be. 

Snowy Bluewolf:: I heard orphan is a bitch to beat so I will give that one a few tries and then I may take you up on the offer! Thanks, Kenma!   

“Okay, the rest of you, stop being jealous, you all know Wolfie has been here since day one and she is super loyal follower so of course I’m going to talk to her!” Kenma rolled his eyes playfully at the jealous messages in chat, Kenma looked dead in the camera with a playful look in his golden eyes as he teased the rest of his followers “She is also one of my mods so watch it.”   

The girl laughed, she had never abused her power as a mod in his discord or in the twitch chat she only kicked those who didn’t obey the rules. She also was friends with Kenma. On discord they were quite good online friends now and they do play games together in private and they do have quite a laugh together.   

“Right let’s get on with the stream!” Kenma said getting straight into the game.   

Y/n had gotten her laptop all set up and ready now, she lounged out on the sofa, getting comfy for the Animal Crossing New Horizons stream.  She would lurk in the chat making sure that everyone was behaving, she rarely had to time out anyone, but she liked to keep an eye making sure everyone is behaving, over the eight years she has been a part of Kenma’s streams and been a mod she had only have to ban about a couple hundred people though she had timed out a lot more than that, she reckons she has hit over the thousands or more.   

She smiled as she watched Kenma update his island, trying to make it five stars, he had built his orchard, a zen garden and a flower garden, it was looking quite stunning so far. Had been streaming about an hour and half when she noticed he had yet to have a drink.   

Snowy Bluewolf: Oi, Kenma! Hydrate would you, have some H2O smh 

“Ergh, Wolfie you are starting to sound like my friend Kuroo.” He sighed, grabbing his water bottle, and having a drink. “Always telling me to drink something...” He tightens the cap on the bottle.   

Nekomasbestcaptain: I heard my name? What shit are you saying about me now? 

Y/n giggled at the fact his best friend had been lurking in Kenma’s stream this whole time, Y/n knew of Kuroo his best friend but had never spoken to him even as a mod all these years. “Nothing Kuroo, just saying Wolfie is as bad as you, reminding me to hydrate.”   

Nekomasbestcaptain: Wolfie? Oh, you mentioned her before. One of your mods, right? 

Kenma glanced at the chat quickly, before replying, “Yep.”   

Snowy Bluewolf: @Nekomasbestcaptain hi! I am the one making sure he stay’s hydrated and that he eats 

Nekomasbestcaptain: @Snowybluewolf haha thanks he does forget like all the time.   

For the rest of the stream Kuroo and Y/n chatted and flirted back and forth, Kenma rolling his eyes at his two best friends. 

To: Kenma  From: Kuroo  Sent: 04:14pm  Dude, how can I talk to wolfie other than through your streams? 

To: Kuroo  From: Kenma  Sent: 08:17pm  Discord.   

Kuroo had never downloaded an app so quick in his life, he created his account, got Kenma’s discord tag added to him then begged him to allow him to join his discord server before tracking down Y/n and private messaging her.   

The months of lockdown flew past, Y/n and Kuroo bonding over the course of three months, they had gotten to the point they would video call in bed usually with Y/n falling asleep while they chatted which he found super cute. 

Nekomasbestcaptain: Hey, Y/n seeing as lockdown is finally over, did you, maybe fancy going for dinner?   

Kuroo sat at his desk in his home office as he chewed on his lip as watched her name pop up at the bottom of the chat bar in discord, before disappearing and reappearing again.   

Snowy Bluewolf: Sure (*ﾉ▽ﾉ) I would love too. Rather than going out for now, maybe we could have a stay at home dinner, like we each cook a course and share one? 

The grin was spread across both their lips as they stared at their phones, the crushes they had developed over the past few months had come clear and they had slyly admitted it to one another and Kenma hated how they were with each other yet loved it cause they both deserved to be happy. Kuroo’s eyes sparkled as he read the message. 

Nekomasbestcaptain: Sure, who’s place shall we do it at? I don’t mind travelling to yours.   

Snowy Bluewolf: We can do it at my place and I’ll pop out and buy the food for the mains if you don’t me doing that course.   

Nekomasbestcaptain: Sounds like a plan. I'll make the starter and we could have a cheese board for dessert? 

Snowy Bluewolf: You are talking my language rooster boi! So, friday? 

Nekomasbestcaptain: Friday is perfect, 6?   

Snowybluewolf: 6 is perfect, I’ll send you my address on friday 

Y/n couldn’t help but squeal she had a date with this beautiful man, it may be a home date, but she had a date. Kuroo flopped back in his desk chair, he had done it he had finally asked her out.   

Friday rolled around in a flash both arguing over who was buying the cheese, in the end Y/n won to buy the cheese and crackers but Kuroo said he would be buying the wine. Y/n decided to make a sushi from scratch, Y/n wasn’t going to admit it, but she did want to show off a little. She had all the equipment she needs to make sushi at home she had just never used the sushi kit she had brought. 

Kuroo had spent days trying to work out what he would make for the starter, he finally decided on tempura. He wanted to make a mix of vegetables and fish. He knocked on her door, with a few bags in hand.   

The door opened shortly after, he was met by a h/c haired girl, her e/c eyes peering up at him, with a shy smile on her face, “Hey rooster boy.”   

“Hello Chibi-chan,” Since he discovered she was the same height as Kenma he had begun to call her Chibi-chan, he loved how a light blush covered her cheek bones. He smiled at her leaning down pecking her forehead, not chancing more yet seeing as this was the first date. Biting her lip, she stepped back gesturing for him enter, trying not let the blush erupt over her cheeks from the feeling of his lips against her forehead. It was a small innocent gesture that caused goosebumps erupted over her skin as she knew the small peck had a deeper meaning behind it. The pair had become comepletely and utterly smitten with one another.   

Showing him into the open plan kitchen sitting room “Can I get you anything to drink?” She asked leaning on the counter, “I brought some wine with me” Kuroo grinned pulling a bottle of wine out of one of the bags. Y/n smiled in return, opening the cupboard by the fridge pulling out to large crystal-clear wine glasses, while opened the bottle with the corkscrew. “What have you planned for starters?”   

Tetsu gray orbs met hers as he poured them a glass each, “I was thinking of making Tempura. What are you doing for mains?”   

The girl took a sip of the wine and sighed, her eyes widening at the smooth taste coating her tongue and the velvety texture running down her throat, “Well I was goinf to make sushi but I’m thinking screw the starter and mains and let’s just have a cheese and wine night, Tetsu this wine is delicious what is it?”   

“Cabinet Sauvignon by a California vineyard called dark horse,” Kuroo swirled the wine in his glass before smirking “and I won’t say no to a cheese night.”   

Y/n emptied out the carrier bags taking everything that needed to go in the fridge and placing it there, before giving him a playful look with raised eyebrows at the 3 other bottles of wine she removed from the bags. “Tetsurou are you planning to get me drunk this evening?”   

“What?” Elongating the word, “No! Whatever gave you that idea?!” He gasped, placing a hand over his chest struggling to keep the fake offended look on his face, before they both cracked up laughing, the pair relaxing in each other presence for the first time that evening. 

“So, cheese and wine night?” The nod of Kuroo’s head joined with the twinkle in his eye was all Y/n need to grab one of her wooden chopping boards, the crackers from the cupboard before she pulled the fridge door open and snatching the selection of cheese, she had brought earlier that day from the fromagerie, the strong-smelling shop contained a wide variety delicious French cheese. 

Y/n wasn’t sure what kind of cheese Kuroo would like she got some milder ones as well as some strong ones, the milder ones being those like brie, camembert and cantal, a cheddar like cheese, the stronger ones like Roquefort and stilton. She had gotten quite a mix of hard and soft cheese too. Taking all the cheese out of their respective wrappings before placing them on the wooden board.   

Kuroo watched each of her movements carefully from his seat at the breakfast bar, she did everything so gracefully and he was awestruck by how beautiful she was, he already thought she was when they video chatted but seeing her in person was a whole other ball game. He watched as she stood on her tiptoes, reaching into the cupboard to get down two small side plates, her flowing red blouse riding up slight allowing him to catch a glimpse of her smooth looking s/c skin of her waist. The way she bent over as she rummaged through the fridge looking for something, gave him perfect view of her arse in her skin-tight dark blue Levi's over the rim of his wine glass as he took another sip. He glanced away as she straightened up, turning around with some chutneys in hand, making it seem like he was admiring the apartment rather than the owner of it.

“Did up want to sit here or move to the sofa?” She asked gesturing towards the dark blue loveseat with a pair of matching armchairs that was placed opposite a flat screen TV on that was mounted to the wall with a light oak sideboard under it, he could see through the glass of the doors that it contained a PlayStation four, Nintendo switch and a range of games and DVDs, separating the two was a coffee table that matched the sideboard, light oak with a glass top. “Sure, the sofa sounds good.”   

Kuroo grabbed the two glasses wine and made his way after y/n to the sofa as she made her way over to the coffee table with the wooden board with the cheese on before they both when to grab the condiments and utensils.   

“Hey, google, shuffle wake up and smell the coffee.” Y/n called out to her google home which sat on the side board under the TV. 

“Okay, I’ll shuffle the Spotify playlist wake up and smell the coffee.”   

The gentle strumming of the guitar of Comethru by Jeremy Zucker played threw the Google home. The pair got comfy on the loveseat, letting the music flow through the apartment, they both snacked on the cheese and biscuits chatting and talking about their days at work. “It’s nice to not having to go into the office that often yet I do procrastinate while I’m at home.”   

“Oh god I am just the same and Kenma is not helping when he streams when I am trying to work.” The girl laughed as she sipped at her wine enjoying the smooth texture.

“I have Kenma’s streams playing as background noise these days myself.” Kuroo added with his own deep chuckle as he watched the girl drink her wine and the way the tip of her tongue darted out over red full lips, temptated to kiss them to discover how soft they are , “This one is nice.” Kuroo said grabbing another cracker with some brie with the fig chutney, Y/n hummed agreeingly in response as she had her own mouthful of blue cheese and cracker, taking a sip of her wine before responding, “The fig chutney does go well with brie, try the blue cheese with a sip of wine.”   

He did as she suggested and his eyes widened at the mixture of mouth-watering tastes, “damn that’s good.” He grabbed another chunk of the blue cheese, placing it on his plate and grabbed another cracker. The cheese board didn’t last long between them even with the six different cheeses they keep eating until there wasn’t even a crumb left. 

“Whoa, I’m stuffed.” Kuroo sighed as he flopped back on the cushions of the sofa, they had finished a bottle of wine and began the next. Copying his movement, Y/n made herself comfy on sofa, the music still softly playing in the background, 1994 by Alec Benjamine harmony filled the room. “God, I love cheese nights.”   

“I have decided, this,” He gestured to the empty plates, board and the bottles wine “Shall become our first tradition. We will have regular cheese nights.” Kuroo said, nodding in agreement with his own decision with a proud smile. A gentle smile crossed her rosy lips again, the look in her jewel-like eyes holding a matching look, nodding in agreement with his idea. Their first tradition, Y/n was filled with giddiness and tried not to squeal at the fact he wanted to start making traditions with her, “I’d like that.” 

His grey eyes watching as she curled her legs up under herself, her left elbow resting on the back of the couch, her chin resting on her on the palm of that hand and in her right hand held the wine glass which rested on her knee. The small ball jumping up on the sofa between them broke him out of his trance of checking her out. His eyes landed on the black kitten whose large blue eyes were briming with curiosity. “Oh, there you are Luddy.” Sitting up slightly, the h/c leaned forward enough to gently pet the kitten, the second Y/n fingers met the top of his head, Luddy began to purr, his blue eyes closing in contentment.   

“Did you have a nice sleep baby?” Y/n cooed to the bundle of fur starching behind his ear making him lean into his touch, Kuroo was in awe as he watched her coo over the small creature. “Do you want some dreamies?” The kittens eyes seem to fly open at the word dreamies as if he understood what his own had said, he looked at her and gave her a small meow. Y/n giggled placing her glass down on the coaster before standing up. 

“Okay you make friends with Tetsu while I grab the dreamies.” Starching the back of Luddy’s head, Y/n gathered up the plates and knifes an placed them on the wooden board along with the chutneys and taking them to the kitchen, leaving Kuroo and a kitten staring at one another, molten grey eyes staring into inquisitive sapphire blue ones. In the background you could hear dishwasher being loaded and the opening and closing of cupboards as Kuroo gently reached a handout allowing the small cat to sniff his calloused fingers, from all those years playing volleyball, before Luddy rubbing up against the man's large hands purring, he stood up walking over to Kuroo sitting down on his lap, allowing Kuroo to continue to pet him, purring happily at the affection. Y/n watched the interaction from the kitchen smiling, before shaking the bag of dreamies, causing Luddy’s ears to prick up and turn to look where the sound came from, he jumped over the back of the sofa trotting his way towards the sound of the treats. Kuroo watched as Y/n opened a ball with a few holes in it, pouring the treats in, shutting it and placing it on the floor for Luddy who ran up to it and batted the ball across the room causing the treats to fall out of the holes. Y/n walked back over to the sofa, grabbed her glass of wine off the table, taking a seat next to Kuroo, whose arm was resting across the back of the sofa, where she was sat it looked like it was placed around her shoulders. Trying his luck, he placed it around her shoulder and tugged her into his side, “Come ‘ere.” To which she responded to his tug by curling into his side, head resting on his chest while he drew gentle circles on her shoulder happily relaxing into the sofa with her curled up to him.   

It was peaceful as the pair led there on the sofa curled into one another, the only sound in the room was Luddy’s ball rolling around and the music still quietly playing, “This is nice Tetsu,” Humming in agreement, he kissed the top of her head allowing his lips to linger inhaling in her soft scented shampoo. He could get used to this, ruining the perfect scene was a loud ringtone going off.

"Is Kenma really streaming at this time?” The girl sighed untangling herself from Kuroo to get her phone from the kitchen counter where she had left at the start of the evening. “Ya know, he only lives around the corner,” Y/n turned to look at Kuroo confusingly as her eyes met with his that held a mischievous glint, “and I have a key.” 

Y/n confusion turned into a smirk as she caught onto what Tetsuro was planning, her eyes brighten up and nodded in excitement, this would be the first time she was meeting her favourite streamer and she would gate crashing his apartment with his best friend. “Can we stop and buy food and drinks for him? I bet he hasn’t eaten.”   

Kuroo couldn’t help but be just as enthusiastic as her, seeing her excited was contagious and made him just as excited. “Of course, we can” He smiled pulling on his shoes and jacket as Y/n did the same. “Luddy be good while we’re gone. Mummy loves you baby.” She blew a kiss towards the kitten who was sat on the sofa looking at the pair with a bored look in his eyes as they stepped out of Y/n apartment door. They made their way to local convenience store fingers entwined together as they searched for Kenma’s favourite soft drink and a few bottles of water before going to the pizza takeaway and order the largest pizza they could with Kenma’s favourite toppings. Y/n couldn’t believe how close they lived together, Kenma live barely 2 streets over, they had the same local takeaways and supermarkets she was surprised they had never bumped into one another before.   

Kuroo entered the code to Kenma’s apartment building, saying hi to the kind looking receptionist who knew him very well with how often he visits his best friend, Y/n sent a wave to the lady behind the desk who returned it with a smile. “Back to see Kenma I see Kuroo, and who is this?” 

“Hi, yep!” He popped the p “This is Y/n she is my girlfriend and actually I met her through Kenma streams she’s one of his mods and he decided to stream during out first date so we thought we would come and crash his stream” The lady giggled and nodded, noticing the blush that exploded over h/c girls cheeks as she heard Kuroo tell the receptionist that she was his girlfriend. “Pleasure to meet you Y/n have fun crashing his stream.”   

“pleasure to meet you too. And thank you we shall.” The girl replied with a smile as Kuroo tugged on their entwined hands towards the elevator, he hit the button for the eighth floor and watching the doors close as the pair made their way up to his floor, Kuroo fished his set of keys out of his pocket, “So we’re going to sneak in and sneak to his stream room and throw the door open and yell at him to hydrate right?” 

“That’s the plan.” The girl nodded bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was so excited to do this. The bell ding in the elevator signalling they had arrived at the eighth floor, stepping out the made in along to apartment 803, Y/n took the carrier bag from Kuroo’s hand as he slipped the key into the lock carefully turning it to unlock the door quietly, they slipped inside stylish modern apartment, they both took there shoes and jackets off, placing the bottles of water and one of his soft drink bottles on the counter, before sneaking there way towards Kenma’s stream room.   

Showing three fingers Y/n began the silent countdown, She knew the whole stream would see this as Kenma had recently moved his stream room around so his back was now facing the door.  

3...  

2...  

1...  

Kuroo threw the door open “YO KENMA! HYDRATE!” The pair yelled at the same time, they watched as the streamer jumped five foot in air out of fright and the stream chat was moving at a mile a second asking what was going on. Kenma pulled his cat ear headphones off his head placing them down on his desk slowly turning around in his desk chair to find Kuroo leaning against the door frame one arm around his date and in his other hand was his Kenma’s drink while Y/n was snuggled into his side with the pizza box in hand. Both of their face held large cheeky grins.

“Kuroo? Wolfie?” He questioned, Kuroo was the first to speak between the couple, “This what you get for crashing our date with your stream”   

“Oh, so now I have to plan my streams around your dates?” Kenma sassed them. The h/c cocked an eyebrow before replying, “Yep, you do.”  

Kenma laughed at her response, watching as the pair stepped into the room, Y/n thrust the pizza box into his hands “bet you haven’t eaten yet tonight so here it’s your favourite.” Before she pushed his chair with him in it out of the way and crouching down to be eye level with the webcam seeing herself in the video, of the stream managers on Kenma’s second monitor, “Hey chat! It’s me, Wolfie! You best be all behaving while I am not there to mod you” She winked into the camera, noticing Kuroo making his way over to her kneeling down behind her, he was still taller than her, he placed his chin on his head, reading what the chat was saying.   

It was exploding with laughter over how they made an entrance, to how pretty Wolfie is and how handsome Kuroo was. “He is handsome isn’t he but hands off he’s mine.” Y/n replied sticking her tongue out at the chat.  

“This gorgeous girl is mine so back off lads I can see yall eyeing her up.” Kuroo growled out playfully.

Kenma just sat in his chair chopping happily on his pizza while shaking his head at his two best friends who had just stolen all the limelight of his stream, which had gone from a Bloodborne stream to just chatting in a matter of seconds, with a gentle smile on his face glad they were happy together.

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[bush-viper-cutie]

“The Cloaked Fools” || YEAR 3 – Ch.26 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 10/9/2020

Word count: 3, 058

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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“I’ve never been happier!” Ron exclaimed as he zoomed all over the field on the firebolt.

Heather and Harry were sitting on the grass watching Ron finally smile after a week of obvious misery. Harry was still in his Quidditch uniform and smelled of practice.

“ – And apparently Cho Chang’s their seeker – a fourth year – but Wood’s worry about her vanished the second I got up off the ground. I mean, you saw how fast I caught the Snitch! Took me like ten seconds to get from the goal post to the other side of the field!”

“Woooooh!” Ron zoomed passed them overhead.

Heather nodded. She was very happy for Harry, and was glad he’d surely win his game against Ravenclaw within a few minutes… But from what she’d seen from practice, even Slytherins should be terrified of playing against Harry. Draco’s Nimbus two-thousand-and-one was a joke next to the firebolt. If Gryffindor won against Ravenclaw, they’d be second place behind Slytherin. She couldn’t imagine losing the House Cup AND the Quidditch Cup this year. Slytherin always won the Quidditch Cup… this’d be their eighth year in a row.

“That’s great, Harry,” she said, trying to sound genuinely pleased for him.

Madam Hooch stirred in her seat and woke with a start. She had fallen asleep watching Harry’s game and was coming over with hands on her hips. She told them off for not waking her up and in the darkness they walked back towards the castle. Harry let Ron hold the broom a bit longer as they went.

“Why don’t you put it in the broom shed?” Heather ducked as Ron turned towards to her with the broom on his shoulders.

“Are you mad? Everyone with a broom has access to the shed! It’d be easy sabotage!”

“Wait!” Harry lifted a hand to stop them going any further up the stairs and pointed down at a nearby tree.

Two eyes blinked up at them from the darkness. Ron took out his wand and illuminated the area. The border of light reached the tree and Crookshanks waved his tail high at them.

“Get away! Go on! Get!” Ron yelled.

Crookshanks turned swiftly and sunk back into the darkness.

“Can’t believe she’s still letting him roam around anywhere! What if he eats someone else’s pet!” Ron scoffed and turned off his wand light.

They entered the castle just as night officially set.

“I think she doesn’t even know where he is.” Heather looked at Harry and saw he was still frowning. She knew he’d probably thought those were the eyes of the grim. She wanted to roll her eyes at him… but she remembered his last match. The way the clouds had looked like a large angry black dog right before he’d fallen fifty feet from the air... Heather dropped them off at the tower, giving Harry a big hug. “Rest well, alright?”

Harry nodded. “Don’t tell the Slytherins yet that I’ve got my broom back. I want to see their faces tomorrow morning.”

Heather nodded and skipped down the stairs. When she reached the main corridor on the ground floor, for a second, she felt the need to look both ways into the creeping darkness, like she’d find the grim’s shadow waiting for her, warning her that Harry would be in danger tomorrow; but there was nothing. She skipped down the corridor and down the dungeon stairs with ease. As promised she didn’t tell Marcus or Draco anything and went straight to sleep.

The next morning, she sat at the Gryffindor table with Wood, waiting for Harry and Ron to make their big entrance. Heads turned and students gasped as Harry entered holding up the firebolt, making sure not to knock it on anything. Heather glanced over at the Slytherins and saw Marcus’ look of fury and Draco’s look of disgust. Her arms hurt instantly at the thought of Marcus doubling their practices after this.

“Look at that!” Wood helped Harry set the broom in the center of the table, pushing plates of food away and turning the handle so it showed ‘firebolt’ at the top in golden letters.

Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were coming over, gasping and aweing at it. Penelope Clearwater asked Harry if she could hold it but Wood swatted her hand away.

“No chance at sabotage, lovely.” Percy held her hand. “We have a bet going on,” he informed them.

“Though I think he knew his chances better than I did when we made it.” Penelope scowled and walked away.

Percy leaned into Harry. “I don’t have ten Galleons so… win this one, alright?” He turned and walked over to the Ravenclaw table, joining his girlfriend in some toast.

“Look at Malfoy,” Ron whispered, drawing attention to Draco’s widened eyes and pressed lips. “This is brilliant!”

“Congratulations on the broom, Harry.” Cedric Diggory smacked his shoulder. “If we’d gotten a rematch I’d be worried.”

Harry smiled and nodded as he left back to his table. “Everyone’s so impressed…”

“And scared, as they should be.” Wood didn’t take his eyes off the broom. “Harry’s you’ve got your dementor problem figured out have you?”

Fred and George laughed. “They’re not coming back onto the grounds.” Fred jabbed a thumb up at the High Table. “Dumbledore’d freak.”

Heather followed his thumb up at a merry looking Professor Dumbledore enjoying his eggs. He looked so different from when he’d gotten furious at the dark-hooded creatures that had entered and made Harry fall. He’d looked even madder than Professor Snape did now, scowling down at his food next to Professor Lupin who chattered away with Professor McGonagall.

“You sure you can handle that broom, Potter?” came Draco’s cold, sharp voice, slicing through the Gryffindor’s enjoyment.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned. “Yeah, I reckon so,” he said casually, almost smiling as Draco’s face turned back to disgust.

“Heard it’s got all sort of new features. Think catching you when you get too near a dementor’s one of them?” Draco smiled maliciously.

Crabe and Goyle snickered behind him.

Heather’s hands slowly reached her face, ready to cover her eyes at what she knew was coming.

“Shame you can’t attach an extra arm to yours. Then it could catch the Snitch for you.” Harry said, turned back to the team as they burst out laughing.

Heather watched through her fingers as Draco almost smacked him where he sat. He gritted his teeth and stalked away, Crabbe and Goyle at his heels. He sat back with the Slytherins and her team put their heads together. She’d likely get a talking to from Marcus again, as if she could do anything about Harry having the firebolt back.

The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw team set out for the locker rooms and Heather stayed behind with Ron as the chatter of the room reached peak excitement.

“Where’s Hermione?” Heather looked around.

Ron shrugged avoidantly. “Was doing homework at one of the desks when we left. Who cares if she wants to miss the greatest Quidditch match of the decade. Well – ” he looked at Heather, “second to the Gryffindor, Slytherin one after this.”

She rolled her eyes. Technically it would be Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff afterwards if Ravenclaw lost – or should she say ‘when’ they lost, but she refrained from correcting him, getting the point. After several more minutes, the whole school was getting up to make their ways to the stadium.

Ron and Heather ran to find seats, excited to see Harry in action.

“We’ll be sitting for two minutes max,” Ron said, gripping the railing in front of them. “I know it.”

Harry made his way onto the field with his team, and the Ravenclaws walking out at the same time looked unusually nervous. Heather easily spotted the Ravenclaw Seeker that Harry had talked about. She was shortest of both teams… and also the only girl on the team. Heather knew what that felt like.

“They waved at each other,” Heather told Ron.

“Who?”

He was distracted looking at the score as if it’d change in a blink in the presence of the firebolt. If Hermione was here she’d be raising her brows. Harry hadn’t yet talked of any girl to Heather, but she thought that was about to change. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Was this the moment they’d start talking to each other about crushes? If he started liking this Cho Chang, would she be doomed to crush on someone too? Would he even tell her? Were crushes something twins talked about?

At the whistle the teams kicked off and Heather’s thoughts were erased when Harry zoomed around, showing off how fast he was. The crowd lost it, cheering and screaming and whistling. Gryffindors were yelling for Ravenclaws to forfeit on the spot and Professor McGonagall had to come down from the announcer desk to tell them to calm down.

Lee Jordan wasn’t doing any better than them. “LOOK AT THAT FIREBOLT EVERYONE. RAVENCLAW MUST BE QUAKING ON THEIR BROOMS. IT’S ONLY BEEN OUT HALF A YEAR AND IT’S ALREADY THE BROOM OF CHOICE FOR THE NATIONAL TEAMS AT THIS YEAR’S WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP – ”

“ – FOCUS ON THE GAME, PLEASE, MR. JORDAN,” Professor McGonagall interrupted as she reached the announcer desk again.

“JUST ADDING SOME BACKGROUND INFORMATION FOR THE ANTICIPATION – ”

“THERE’S NO NEED FOR THAT.”

“ALRIGHT… GRYFFINDOR IN POSSESSION WITH KATIE BELL HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE GOAL…”

The Gryffindors were laughing at Lee and Professor McGonagall’s exchange. Harry was streaking around the air with Cho not far behind. She seemed to be a good flyer. She hadn’t noticed how good she was when Slytherins were playing Ravenclaw, but she must have given Draco a good scare. Harry sped up suddenly and Cho got left behind as hard as she tried to stay on his trail. Harry really was no match for any Seeker at this point.

There was a golden dot on the edge of her vision and Harry saw it too. The Snitch was near the ground, close to the stadiums, and Harry was rushing for it. The Ravenclaw Beater hit a Bludger several feet in front of Harry to make up for his speed and narrowly missed Harry’s head by an inch, making him veer off course. The Snitch was gone and Heather was horrified at the advanced thinking the Ravenclaw must have gone through to time the Bludger near perfectly.

“Boooooooh!” the Gryffindors yelled at the Ravenclaw Beater. The Ravenclaws cheered for him, however, asking him to do it again.

George hit a Bludger at him in frustration, making the Ravenclaw Beater roll in midair. Heather wished she was on her broom, playing with them. She loved doing midair rolls; they were her signature move.

“GRYFFINDOR LEADS BY EIGHTY POINTS TO NONE – AND LOOK AT THAT MAGNIFICENT FIREBOLT. CHANG’S COMMET JUST CAN’T COMPETE – LOOK AT THAT PRECISION-BALANCE DURING POTTER’S LONG – ”

“THE GAME JORDAN!”

“ – THREE GOALS FOR RAVENCLAW BRINGING GRYFFINDOR’S LEAD DOWN TO FIFTY!”

Harry was flying by towards the Gryffindor goalposts where the Snitch fluttered. Cho sprang up out of nowhere, halting Harry’s movement.

“Don’t be a gentleman! Knock her off her broom!” Wood yelled at him from the goalposts.

Harry started again and was gaining on Cho in an instant, until she exclaimed and pointed down. Heather leaned over the railing at what Cho had pointed to and saw three cloaked creatures entering the field, looking up at them as they approached.

Harry extended his arm, yelling “Expecto Patronum!” and from the tip of his wand, a silvery-white orb shot out, knocking the three dementors to the ground. Heather blinked, stunned, and the crowd was cheering.

“POTTER’S CAUGHT THE SNITCH.”

In the time it took for the dementors to hit the ground, Harry had gotten to the Snitch before Cho and was holding it up for all to see. The end-of-game whistle blew and the Gryffindor team was barreling towards Harry, hugging him on their brooms, unable to wait until they could all touch down.

“Did you see that!” Ron was pulling her down the stadium benches and down the stairs. “Did you see!”

“Of course I saw! I was right next to you.” Though Heather had to admit several of her blinks got in the way of seeing Harry’s actions.

They ran onto the field followed by a crowd of Gryffindors and joined the Gryffindor team in cheering for Harry. Fred and George were lifting him up as best they could as they jumped up and down, not being too careful about not dropping him.

“That’s ten galleons for me! Thanks Harry!” Percy yelled over the cheers. “Excuse me – excuse me – Penelope!” He pushed his way out of the crowd.

“Ruddy brilliant, Harry!” Hagrid boomed from the back, being tall enough to spot him at the center of the crowd.

Fred and George set Harry down and Professor Lupin placed his hand on his shoulder.

“That was quite the patronus.” Professor Lupin looked a bit startled.

Heather felt a pang of jealousy. If she’d continued practicing with them, would she have one like Harry? Or would she have still not been able to produce even a silver wisp of one.

“They didn’t even affect me! I felt nothing from them!” Harry finally let go of the Snitch.

“That’s – er… because they weren’t dementors.” Professor Lupin looked back in the direction of them.

The crowd started to disperse and as Heather, Ron, and Harry approached the ‘dementors’, they stood, ripping off their cloaks and revealing themselves to be Crabbe, Goyle, Draco, and Marcus. It was like an episode of one of Dudley’s favorite mystery cartoons. How hilariously embarrassing, however, Heather couldn’t partake in Harry and Ron’s laughter.

“Gave them quite a scare.” Professor Lupin was on the verge of laughing too.

Professor McGonagall was marching towards the four of them with hands on her hips and Heather imagined Marcus was about to get a nasty detention that’d take up all their practice times. It was too much for Professor Lupin and so he left them, holding a hand to his mouth to hide his smile. Ron was on his knees, pounding the ground with laughter and pointing at Draco who glared at them with as much fury as he could muster.

“Harry!” George called out. “Party in the Gryffindor common room!”

Harry looked over at Heather sheepishly and she sighed. “Oh, go. I think I have to help them out with this anyways.”

“I don’t see why.” Ron wiped a tear away. “Actually, see if they can get double detention!”

“Come on.” Harry pulled Ron away and they left together.

Heather made her way over to Marcus and Draco as Professor Dumbledore approached as well, stopping next to a still furious Professor McGonagall.

“Trying to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Fifty points from Slytherin! Unbelievable! I’ll be telling Professor Snape about this!”

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. “No need, he’s making his way down now.”

Heather looked over and saw Professor Snape walking very slowly down the stadium steps, no doubt incredibly annoyed.  She shook her head. “I can’t believe you guys thought this was a good idea.”

“You saw how fast he was going!” Draco hissed.

“But now you’ve lost us fifty points!” Heather huffed. “What if we’re tied now!”

“We’re not,” Marcus growled.

“Not yet,” Professor McGonagall said, dangerously calm.

“Well.” Professor Snape stopped at the foot of the cloaks dumped on the ground. “Shall we discuss this in my office?”

“So you can get them off with a slap on their wrist?” Professor McGonagall raised her brows.

“No,” Professor Snape spoke slowly. “But I won’t allow you to conveniently give them detentions during every last one of their scheduled practices.”

“Afraid you’ll finally lose this year?” She smiled.

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Perhaps you two should reach an agreement first. For now,” he turned to them, “You will stay in your common room until you are given your detention slips.”

Marcus, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle nodded. Heather followed them out, walking next to Draco who kicked at every rock. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape bickered behind them, though Professor Snape seemed to enjoy Professor McGonagall’s anger.

“Did you even see what Cho was doing? She was countering Harry really well.” Heather shook Draco’s arm to snap him back to reality from whatever pit he had fallen into in his mind.

“No. I know how she plays. I caught the Snitch too remember? She was easy to beat.” He kicked another rock as they reached the stairs.

“But she played differently, didn’t she? Cutting Harry off.” She was growing more and more afraid as she realized Draco hadn’t bothered to learn anything from seeing Harry fly. Maybe she’d do better as Seeker, seeing as how she was always helping him improve.

They’d reached the common room door and Professor Snape followed them in. A horrible sign.

“You four,” he looked at them each except for Heather. He stepped closer, making them shrink. “Why don’t we have a chat in Draco’s dorm. Shall we?”

They gulped and headed into the boy’s dormitory. There was a slam of a door deeper inside and the muffled yells of Professor Snape telling them off. Heather sat at a chair, chin resting on the top of the back rest, knees tucked into the cushion, and waited for the doors to open once more.

The yelling ended, the boy’s dormitory door flung open, and suddenly there was a flurry of black robes cutting through the air as Professor Snape strode across the room using the full extent of his long legs to exit as fast as possible, his hair blowing back in the wind.

The common room door closed and Draco, Marcus, Crabbe and Goyle stepped out. Draco came to stand by her.

“I hate your brother,” he said, crossing his arms. “If we get too much detention, you’ll have to go out with me to show me what you saw that Ravenclaw Seeker do.”

Heather raised her brows. “Me?”

“Well he’s your brother isn’t he? It’s a Potter’s fault, so a Potter will fix this.”

Last time she checked Draco wasn’t a Potter and it was his own fault he was in this mess. Though, the idea was ridiculous enough to have been Marcus’ to begin with. Still. Someone who follows a fool must be a fool themselves, or very nearly one.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

5th February  >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Friday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

   or

Saint Agatha, Virgin, Martyr.

Friday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

(Readings for the feria (Friday))

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Friday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Hebrews 13:1-8

Jesus Christ is the same today as he was yesterday and will be for ever

Continue to love each other like brothers, and remember always to welcome strangers, for by doing this, some people have entertained angels without knowing it. Keep in mind those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; and those who are being badly treated, since you too are in the one body. Marriage is to be honoured by all, and marriages are to be kept undefiled, because fornicators and adulterers will come under God’s judgement. Put greed out of your lives and be content with whatever you have; God himself has said: I will not fail you or desert you, and so we can say with confidence: With the Lord to help me, I fear nothing: what can man do to me?    Remember your leaders, who preached the word of God to you, and as you reflect on the outcome of their lives, imitate their faith. Jesus Christ is the same today as he was yesterday and as he will be for ever.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 26(27):1,3,5,8-9

R/ The Lord is my light and my help.

The Lord is my light and my help;    whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life;    before whom shall I shrink?

R/ The Lord is my light and my help.

Though an army encamp against me    my heart would not fear. Though war break out against me    even then would I trust.

R/ The Lord is my light and my help.

For there he keeps me safe in his tent    in the day of evil. He hides me in the shelter of his tent,    on a rock he sets me safe.

R/ The Lord is my light and my help.

It is your face, O Lord, that I seek;    hide not your face. Dismiss not your servant in anger;    you have been my help.

R/ The Lord is my light and my help.

Gospel Acclamation

cf. Luke 8:15

Alleluia, alleluia! Blessed are those who, with a noble and generous heart, take the word of God to themselves and yield a harvest through their perseverance. Alleluia!

Gospel

Mark 6:14-29

The beheading of John the Baptist

King Herod had heard about Jesus, since by now his name was well known. Some were saying, ‘John the Baptist has risen from the dead, and that is why miraculous powers are at work in him.’ Others said, ‘He is Elijah’; others again, ‘He is a prophet, like the prophets we used to have.’ But when Herod heard this he said, ‘It is John whose head I cut off; he has risen from the dead.’    Now it was this same Herod who had sent to have John arrested, and had him chained up in prison because of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife whom he had married. For John had told Herod, ‘It is against the law for you to have your brother’s wife.’ As for Herodias, she was furious with him and wanted to kill him; but she was not able to, because Herod was afraid of John, knowing him to be a good and holy man, and gave him his protection. When he had heard him speak he was greatly perplexed, and yet he liked to listen to him.    An opportunity came on Herod’s birthday when he gave a banquet for the nobles of his court, for his army officers and for the leading figures in Galilee. When the daughter of this same Herodias came in and danced, she delighted Herod and his guests; so the king said to the girl, ‘Ask me anything you like and I will give it you.’ And he swore her an oath, ‘I will give you anything you ask, even half my kingdom.’ She went out and said to her mother, ‘What shall I ask for?’ She replied, ‘The head of John the Baptist.’ The girl hurried straight back to the king and made her request, ‘I want you to give me John the Baptist’s head, here and now, on a dish.’ The king was deeply distressed but, thinking of the oaths he had sworn and of his guests, he was reluctant to break his word to her. So the king at once sent one of the bodyguard with orders to bring John’s head. The man went off and beheaded him in prison; then he brought the head on a dish and gave it to the girl, and the girl gave it to her mother. When John’s disciples heard about this, they came and took his body and laid it in a tomb.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saint Agatha, Virgin, Martyr

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Friday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

1 Corinthians 1:26-31

God chose what is foolish by human reckoning, to shame the wise

Take yourselves for instance, brothers, at the time when you were called: how many of you were wise in the ordinary sense of the word, how many were influential people, or came from noble families? No, it was to shame the wise that God chose what is foolish by human reckoning, and to shame what is strong that he chose what is weak by human reckoning; those whom the world thinks common and contemptible are the ones that God has chosen – those who are nothing at all to show up those who are everything. The human race has nothing to boast about to God, but you, God has made members of Christ Jesus and by God’s doing he has become our wisdom, and our virtue, and our holiness, and our freedom. As scripture says: if anyone wants to boast, let him boast about the Lord.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 30(31):3-6,8,16-17

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

Be a rock of refuge for me,    a mighty stronghold to save me, for you are my rock, my stronghold.    For your name’s sake, lead me and guide me.

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

Into your hands I commend my spirit.    It is you who will redeem me, Lord. As for me, I trust in the Lord:    let me be glad and rejoice in your love.

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

My life is in your hands, deliver me    from the hands of those who hate me. Let your face shine on your servant.    Save me in your love.

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

Gospel Acclamation

1 Peter 4:14

Alleluia, alleluia! It is a blessing for you when they insult you for bearing the name of Christ, for the Spirit of God rests on you. Alleluia!

Gospel

Luke 9:23-26

The Son of Man is destined to suffer grievously

Jesus said:    ‘If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross every day and follow me. For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but anyone who loses his life for my sake, that man will save it. What gain, then, is it for a man to have won the whole world and to have lost or ruined his very self? For if anyone is ashamed of me and of my words, of him the Son of Man will be ashamed when he comes in his own glory and in the glory of the Father and the holy angels.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[shadowsof-thenight]

When she least expects it - 3

Summary: When Rebecca’s relationship comes to an abrupt and painful end, she finds herself without a home. With her brother currently stationed in Iraq, she turns to the one person she knew she can always depend on—Steve Rogers.

Warnings: none for this chapter, perhaps a teensy bit of angst

Ship: Steve Rogers x OFC—Rebecca Barnes

Words: 3445

A/n: This was written for Star’s Follower Celebration. The prompt was a roommate AU. And like the previous chapters it was beta-ed by the wonderful @gnomewithalaptop​

Series Masterlist

Chapter three

Rebecca nearly jumped from the bed as the alarm started blaring; it felt like she had only just fallen asleep. She quickly reached over to silence it, though she failed in her sleepy state and ended up knocking the alarm clock from the night stand. Her groan turned into a tired yawn as she leaned over the edge of the mattress and finally found the snooze button. In the newfound blessed silence, she rolled onto her back and sighed. She wasn’t ready to get up, but she knew that a busy day was ahead, and she shouldn’t ignore the alarm. She rubbed her eyes and felt sleep pulling at her, quickly lulling her back to sleep. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice said that this was the reason she used the snooze function. Rebecca didn’t understand people that didn’t need it. In fact, she knew only one person that would get up at the first beep—Steve. She almost laughed aloud as she realised that the guy was now becoming the first person she thought of in the morning. He had also been on her mind as she went to sleep, though that was mostly because she feared a clumsy stumble in the bathroom had awoken him. It hadn’t.

It had been well past midnight when she had finally turned her computer off and made her way into the bathroom, and her eyes had been watery from staring at a screen for too long. It had caused her to trip over the overturned corner of the bath mat. She had been able to catch herself on the sink, tipping the cup with their toothbrushes over. Steve could wake up from the smallest sounds, and she had stood stock still for a few minutes to make sure his light snoring continued before she went on to brush her teeth.

She should have stopped working sooner–it wasn’t good for anyone to stare at a screen for more than 14 hours in one day. But she’d really wanted to finish the project she was working on, despite still having another week for it. She’d reckoned she could accept another project on Monday, if she finished her current one. She’d gotten a good offer for the new project a couple days ago and the money could go into her savings. She was getting close to having down payment for a new apartment. As a freelance artist, projects weren’t always lined up as they were now, and she wanted to take advantage of it. Besides, she didn’t want to go apartment hunting without a good amount of savings. She’d risk falling for a place and not being able to afford it.

It had been two months since she had shown up on Steve’s doorstep, and she could only imagine how much he must want to have this place to himself again, at least until Bucky got back. He hadn’t said anything about it, but after her behaviour last month, it would not surprise her if he was ready to be rid of her. Heck, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d want to pause their friendship for a while after this–she had imposed on him longer than she had intended.

The alarm started beeping again and Rebecca reluctantly reached to turn it off. She then stretched and stepped out of the bed. Her eyes were still thick with sleep, and she blinked profusely to fix the blurry vision, to no avail. Perhaps she should have given herself another hour of sleep. Grumbling about her own decision to cut into her sleeping hours, she made her way into the hallway and towards the bathroom–a nice long shower might wake her up.

She was oblivious to the world around her as she proceeded to walk, and she ignored all the signs that could have warned her for what was to come. She didn’t see Steve’s running vest on the coat rack or his running shoes discarded by the door. She was also too preoccupied with her thoughts to hear that the shower was already running. It wasn’t until she stepped into the steam-filled bathroom that she realised her mistake.

“Hey!” Steve called out, a little shocked as a cold gust of wind hit him.

He peeked around the shower curtain and found Rebecca standing there with her mouth open in shock. It took her a long 30 seconds to get moving again, and she turned quickly, nearly tripping over the clothes that Steve hadn’t thrown in the hamper yet. Utterly embarrassed, she quickly found her balance again, while Steve snickered behind her. She ignored it and half-shouted her apology as she closed the door behind her.

She had not expected Steve to be home. Every single day of the week their schedules worked around one another as a seamless machine—they had just never accounted for a day where they would both vary from their routine. Rebecca never got up this early on a Friday and Steve was never this late. He might have assumed that she would sleep in after her late night and given himself a little more time this morning. On a normal day this would not have been a problem, except she had given herself a pretty tight deadline. Still embarrassed and blushing, she made her way into the kitchen instead and put the kettle on. At least she was fully awake now.

When Steve joined her in the kitchen a short while later, she apologised again, earning herself another chuckle from the blond soldier—he also wondered if she hurt herself when she tripped, though there was too-big a twinkle in his eyes, and she realised he was teasing her. It fuelled a fire in her, and she wanted to turn the tables on him. So when she smiled as she watched him make his coffee, the twinkle in her own eyes grew more pronounced. Sensing the change in her mood, Steve looked back at her and raised a single eyebrow, silently questioning her.

“It’s typical though,” her words were soft, the tone nonchalant, and he did not trust it one bit. He knew her better than that, and he only had himself to blame. He knew there’d be instant retaliation for teasing her—even if it hadn’t been more than a little jab.

“What is?” Steve wondered, carefully sizing her up—the coffee forgotten on the counter.

Rebecca sipped her tea, shrugging, intent on dragging this out. She knew it would make him a little nervous to anticipate her intentions. Steve knew what she was doing and it took a lot of willpower to keep from asking again—he did not want to give her the satisfaction. He watched her take a few more sips, before she placed the now half-empty cup on the counter. Then she took a step backwards, away from him. This only raised his suspicions and he was quick to close the distance—a smile already playing on his lips.

“Well,” she said, drawing the word for dramatic effect. “The one time I walk in on someone in the bathroom, there’s a dark curtain obstructing my view.” Her words were relatively innocent and Steve still wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

He turned back to his coffee, a little confused. “Because you wanted to see that?” He wondered.

She smiled and he realised too late that he had taken the bait she had carefully laid out for him. With a serious face she then said; “I’m just curious to see if Mother Nature has corrected its mistake.”

She took a few more hurried steps back, watching his face as it dawned on him. She laughed loudly, and though Steve tried to keep a straight face, she could see the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

“I was five!” He exclaimed, laughter clear in his voice.

Her smile spread wider as she tried to create more distance between them, but Steve was already closing in. They were both taking slow, deliberate steps, with Steve carefully watching her movements. They both knew where this would end.

“Excuses, excuses—“ She wanted to say more, but he jumped, and with a scream she took off running.

Steve was close behind, his fingers grasping for her but not finding purchase. He had forgotten how fast she could move. She jumped over the couch to evade him, and he walked around it, eager to cut her off, only to find she had put the coffee table between them. He veered left, then right and she countered him–eager to stay out of his reach. Rebecca knew that if he caught her, the tickling that would ensue would not stop until she begged for mercy. He knew her weak spots, he’d used them against her in the past, but she had no intention of begging.

Finally he moved, and she dodged, evading him as he nearly tripped over the table. She moved towards the door and into the hallway. Steve was still close behind, but she was quicker, and too late, he realised that she had planned her exit strategy carefully. The bathroom door closed and he nearly ran into it as he heard the lock turn. She cackled, and he could imagine the little victory dance she’d surely be doing on the other side of that door. She had won this round, but he would get his revenge.

“Weak!” He called out and her laughter only grew louder.

“Love you!” She called back, before finally getting herself ready for a much needed shower.

By the time she walked back out of the bathroom, freshly showered, Steve had left for work and she pulled out her laptop—ready to finish her project.

***

Rebecca checked her makeup in the bathroom mirror and applied her favourite ruby red lipstick, wishing there had been a floor length mirror in the apartment. Apparently men didn’t see the need—or at least,those that lived here didn’t. She had already mentioned to Steve that this could very well be the reason that both of them were still single—he had not taken her very seriously and simply rolled his eyes before returning to his book.

“Women need a mirror to check their entire outfits, Steve.” She whined, standing on her tiptoes to see as much of her outfit as she possibly could. It wasn’t working as well as she’d hoped and there wasn’t room to step back any further.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He simply answered absentmindedly.

“Fine, but you’ll have to be the judge now,” she stated and walked out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. Steve was lying on his bed, book in hand as he waited for the bathroom to become available to him. He glanced up from the page, and she stood in silence, spreading her arms expectantly. Steve wasn’t sure what she needed him to do or say, so he too remained silent.

“Well?” She finally asked.

“What?” Steve still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do—he hadn’t really been listening to her.

“How do I look?” She twirled in place for effect, and he smiled as he took in her appearance.

She was beautiful. Of course, he always thought so. The green knee-length dress she wore hugged her waist, only to flare out over her hips, and it suited her perfectly. Her brown hair fell in loose curls on her back and the red lips certainly made a statement. What that statement was, he couldn’t be sure, but it drew the eye.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he stared at her, unable to be more casual about it.

“Yeah?” She asked, suddenly self-conscious as her hands gripped the fabric of her dress. She had picked the dress because she felt confident in it, and since this was her first night out as a single girl in years, she wanted to feel good. Still, the way Steve’s eyes lingered on her figure did far more for her confidence levels than any piece of clothing ever could.

Steve placed his books down and stood from the bed, then walked over to her and placed his hands on her upper arms, rubbing them gently. Then he bent his head and kissed her forehead. “You are gorgeous.”

Rebecca didn’t miss the way his lips lingered, nor the strain in his voice. She just wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. What she could make sense of though, was the effect it had on her. It was impossible to ignore the flutter in her stomach or to keep her cheeks from burning up. She almost threw all common sense into the wind and kissed him. No, she chastised herself in time, that couldn’t happen. He was her friend. Besides, Bucky would kill her.

Back in high school she’d had such a big crush on Steve, and Bucky had hated it. Apparently, she hadn’t been as subtle about it as she thought, though Steve had seemed oblivious at the time. Bucky had asked her to keep it to herself, and she had. Eventually, they had enlisted and she had gone to Uni in another city. There, she had met Natasha, who had made it her personal mission to help Rebecca get over the pretty boy from back home.

After finishing her education, Rebecca had remained in the city. A part of her had still worried that if she went home, she’d fall for Steve all over again. Thus, she had kept her distance. Which had worked well, until Steve got stationed nearby and Bucky followed soon after. She had already been dating Jack by then and was convinced that she was over Steve. She had been elated to have her best friends close by again.

She shook her head as Steve moved away from her and locked himself in the bathroom. She told herself that the flutter had just been a momentary relapse, brought on by his kindness. It probably meant nothing. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her purse and keys before making her way outside. And when she made it to the bar shortly thereafter, she quickly ordered a drink to quash the remaining flutters before Natasha could catch on.

***

Rebecca was on her second drink, still leaning on the bar, when she checked her watch. Any moment now, Natasha would walk in. At least, that’s what she told herself. She should have known better than to expect her friend to be on time. Nat was a lot of wonderful things, but punctual wasn’t one of them. If Rebecca had not been so hasty to leave the apartment, she would have gone to the bar later. Instead she had rushed, just so she could down a glass of wine. She was quite certain she could finish the second one before her friend would arrive as well.

In that exact moment a warm hand was placed on her lower back and she jumped from the unexpected contact. Turning to see who was behind her, she tried to shake off the dread that filled her. There was something so familiar about the feel of that hand, and it was not Natasha. The surprise quickly turned sour when she saw who the owner of the hand was. She stepped back and took a calming breath, ready to hear whatever Jack had to say to her. His smile was too sweet to be real and she was instantly on high alert. She really wasn’t looking for a fight—or a reconciliation. She would have been fine if she never saw him again. Funny how quickly she had gotten to that point. The romance of their relationship was long forgotten now. There was no flutter in her stomach, no sexual pull as she looked at him, and with glee, she suddenly realised she was well and truly over him. Rebecca schooled her expression, trying to keep it open and friendly, though a smile felt out of place.

“Hitting the bottle, I see,” his Southern accent drawled out, and she knew he was already a few drinks into the evening. She used to love his accent; now it did absolutely nothing for her. She glanced back at her glass. It was nearly empty, and she briefly wondered what he considered ‘hitting the bottle’. As it was, she didn’t feel the need to answer him.

“Hello, Jack,” she simply greeted, ready to turn away from him.

“Need company?” He asked, stepping closer and invading her space.

“Certainly not yours, Jack,” Rebecca replied, forcing a smile on her lips. A flare of anger burst inside of her; he truly thought she’d go back to him—after everything. Of course, she couldn’t really blame his arrogance. They’d broken up before, and she had gone right back the moment he mumbled sweet little nothings into her ear. But this was different; she had actually moved out, and it had been months since they had seen one another. There had been no contact at all before now.

“Don’t you miss me? He asked, leaning over, his eyelids fluttering a little too fast, and she nearly broke out in laughter when she realised that he was trying to look seductive. He must have been drinking heavily—he was usually good at charming someone.

“Nope,” Rebecca replied, and she was happy that there was no lie in her words. She really hadn’t missed him. She had been hurt by his cheating, definitely, but she realised now that she hadn’t missed him one moment. Which in itself should have been a clear sign of the depth of their love. It made her wonder once again why she’d stayed in the relationship as long as she had.

“You know I can make you feel good,” Jack persisted, his hand snaking up her leg, and she laughed as she pulled back from him.

“Jack, it’s not happening.” She was calm, his advances not doing anything for her, and it felt good.

She didn’t need to keep it together or put on a brave face in his presence. She was perfectly fine turning him down. Jack’s confusion was actually entertaining. He didn’t seem to understand that she wasn’t swooning, couldn’t believe that she had actually moved on from him.

“Are you dating someone else?” He asked suddenly, standing straight again and suddenly appearing less drunk. It dawned on her that he had not expected her to get over him.

“No, Jack, I’m just not interested in starting this whole dance again. You wanted it to end, and I agree that it was the best for both of us.” Rebecca sighed and glanced at the door and hoped Natasha was close by. Jack huffed, still not understanding her rejection, and stalked off—back to his friends on the other end of the bar. Thankfully, Natasha walked in a few minutes later.

“Sorry I’m late!” Natasha said loudly and hugged Rebecca close. She was out of breath and Rebecca realised she had been rushing to meet her.

“I know,” Rebecca laughed, then raised her glass to show the progress. “You’ll have to catch up though, this is my second.”

It took an hour for Natasha to discover Jack at the far end of the bar, and she was shocked, quickly asking if Rebecca wanted to go somewhere else. Rebecca smiled at her protective friend.

“No, we’ve already talked,” she stated simply. They had relocated from the bar to a table near a window, and Rebecca had not even been tempted to glance in Jack’s direction.

“You talked?” Natasha was clearly surprised, Rebecca just wasn’t sure what about—her calm demeanour, or the fact that she hadn’t told her.

“Yes, before you came.”

“Was that why you were two drinks in?” Natasha needed to know.

“No.” Rebecca laughed. “That had nothing to do with him.”

“Did it have anything to do with Steve?” Natasha easily picked up on Rebecca’s behaviour—and Rebecca had known that she would not be able to hide anything from her friend.

“Why would it have anything to do with Steve?” She tried to lie her way out of the conversation, but as she saw the smile on Natasha’s face she knew it would be to no avail.

“Come on! You’re living with the guy you’ve had a crush on since forever.” Natasha laughed.

“Nothing happened,” Rebecca said, a smile on her face as she remembered his lips lingering on her forehead. “But I will admit that it is nice to be around him so much.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Natasha exclaimed and quickly ordered two new drinks.

[carewyncromwell]

[Carewyn hated going to Knockturn Alley. She always felt very unsafe there, not just because of her age but because of how small she was. (All of her friends towered over her as it was.) And even if Carewyn could dress well and act confident and she felt rather assured in her capability as a duelist, that didn’t change the fact that many of the people who swept around this area were Dark wizards. Carewyn could prepare all she wanted, but she was never not going to be nervous about that. She thought it’d be stupid to be anything otherwise.

When she caught sight of Ben, though, he seemed as arrogantly nonchalant as usual. He hadn’t even gone to the trouble of dressing to fit in with the Knockturn Alley crowd like Carewyn always did -- instead he was blatantly wearing his Gryffindor robes.]

That settles it. Ben is stupid.

[Pushing this very mean thought aside, Carewyn strolled up to him, coming to a stop about four feet away.]

[Ben turned to look at Carewyn. His eyes flickered over her briefly as he took in her different hair and make-up, but otherwise he seemed unsurprised to see her.]

Ben: “No, I’m here for something much more important -- answers.”

[Carewyn raised her eyebrows.]

“What answers?”

Ben: “About what Rakepick has been up to. About the final Cursed Vault.”

[Carewyn wanted to scream.

It was true that she herself was doing just that...but the whole reason why she had not told any of her friends that she was still searching for the Vault was because R had put a target on her back and had threatened her friends’ lives. She had lied and put on the act of trusting in the teachers and the Aurors in order to prevent anyone else from getting involved -- and now, like Merula, Ben was going bloody rogue and running stupidly into danger of his own accord! Out of his own choice! When just like Merula, he knew the danger they were in!]

Ben: “Searching around the castle hasn’t turned up much, so I thought I’d start here. I reckon at least one of these dodgy witches or wizards should know something -- I’ll just interrogate them to see what they know.”

[Perhaps because of how raw her heart was from dealing with Beatrice not too long ago, Carewyn’s voice turned much harder from the off-set. She didn’t want to completely lose her head again, so she had to make sure her anger was cold and coherent, not explosive and fragile.]

“Ben...this has gone far enough. Pinching things that aren’t yours is one thing -- but are you even listening to yourself right now? Threatening random Dark wizards and acting like you’re some big hot shot is a good way to get yourself hurt, or worse. I would’ve thought after what you and I experienced in that Vault, how close we all were to dying back there, you’d realize how dangerous this situation is. Instead you’re actively seeking that danger out -- acting like it’s nothing, without any care for the consequences...and for what? To prove yourself? You’d certainly prove something very different by getting yourself killed!”

[Carewyn wanted to believe there was some sort of softer emotion in Ben’s eyes -- was it disappointment? Pity? -- but it was gone so quickly that it very well could’ve been her imagination.]

Ben: “Carewyn, these lowlifes only respond to fear and money -- so unless you happen to have won the Daily Prophet Galleon Draw recently, this is the only option.”

“(harshly) No, it’s not.”

There is always a way. You never need to hurt people.

“The Aurors are already dealing with the Vault and Rakepick. They’ve got Mad-Eye Moody in charge of the task force. I daresay he could interrogate people here a lot better than we could.”

[Ben’s eyes narrowed, looking frustrated for the first time.]

Ben: “I’m not going to just sit around and wait for the Statue Curse to spread or for Rakepick to attack us again. I’m done reacting -- I’m taking action.”

[His brown eyes rippled with frustration, deepening into something else Carewyn couldn’t identify. Almost like...

“Well, for once, you both had been right!”

The memory of Merula snapping at her back at the Training Grounds returned to her. Her old rival’s pink gaze then had reminded Carewyn of how she felt while talking to Ben -- and now here Ben himself was, with such a similar gaze...

Carewyn’s glare faltered.]

What can you not say, Ben...?

[Unlike Merula or Carewyn, Ben’s muddled emotions didn’t leave his eyes even as he turned his back on Carewyn.]

Ben: “...Don’t try to stop me.”

[Ben strode off past Borgin and Burkes. Reaching an alley, he turned his head, clearly having spotted someone.]

[He took out his wand and brandished it threateningly.]

Ben: “...or else.”

[Carewyn had whipped out her own wand, ready to stop Ben and/or protect him from a counterattack, but the voice she heard was familiar enough that her panicked run quickly slowed to a much calmer jog. She faced the wizard with a very dull look.]

“Hello, Mundungus.”

[Ben looked at her, taken aback.]

Ben: “You know this dodgy wizard, Carewyn?”

“(coolly) Unfortunately. Still running away from people you’ve pickpocketed, Mundungus? I’m surprised you don’t have some other kid ‘mediating’ your disputes for you.”

Mundungus: “(mutters sourly) I don’ pickpocket -- I collect is all. And quit sayin’ me name so loud, Cromwell! I don’t want ‘im to know I’m here...”

[Despite how offended Mundugus was by Carewyn’s words, though, his body language was tense and hunched, like he was trying to hide.]

“Who?”

[For once, Mundungus appeared sincerely reluctant.]

Mundungus: “Trust me, missie, you don’ want to know. This one’s dangerous -- even compared to the lot ‘round these parts.”

[He then put on something of a tiny, seedy smile.]

Mundungus: “...O’ course if you’ve got some...financial incentive, I might be willing to -- “

Ben: “Bombarda!”

[Before Carewyn could do anything, Ben had blasted Mundungus backward, slamming him up into the opposite wall.]

“Ben!”

[Carewyn shot Ben a horrified, angry look over her shoulder, before dashing over to Mundungus.

Upon seeing that he was, in fact, not badly injured, Carewyn spoke to the shady wizard very coldly under her breath.]

“I’d recommend talking now, Fletcher. I’ve been studying Legilimency for over a year now -- I can always take the information I want, should you choose not to share it.”

[Carewyn would be hard-pressed to actually do it, but she knew it was a bluff she could back up if she really had to. She didn’t think it was likely Mundungus had studied Occlumency.

Mundungus could tell she wasn’t kidding. Clearly intimidated both by her threat and the aggressiveness of Ben’s assault, he replied in an over-the-top attempt at charm that badly masked his utter cowardice.]

Mundungus: “On second thought...I’m feeling generous. I’ll tell you everythin’ I know, free o’ charge!”

[He glanced around furtively.]

Mundungus: “It’s...this wizard. A wizard in white robes.”

[A ping of deja vu poked at the back of Carewyn’s mind.]

“She said that he’d used incantations you’ve never heard before.”

Mundungus: “Anyway, he’s come back to Knockturn Alley, prowling around all brazen-like. Some folks think maybe he’s looking for something -- others say it’s someone -- but everyone’s kind of given him some distance. He’s not someone you want to mess with.”

“(surmises) So you’re hiding out until he leaves.”

Mundungus: “‘Idin’ out? Nah, I’m...I’m just layin’ low, for me own self-preservation. I’d rather not remind ‘im that I ‘ave some of his valuables...”

Ben: “You stole from him?”

Mundungus: “I wouldn’t call it stealin’, it’s more...relievin’ ‘im o’ the burden o’ -- “

“(very dully) Yes, he stole from him.”

Mundungus: “(with a scowl) Harsh, Cromwell. Now if you don’ mind, I have to get back to ‘idi -- I mean, layin’ low.”

[As Mundungus retreated, Carewyn turned on Ben, her eyes both worried and very reproachful behind her sunglasses.]

[But Ben once again seemed unfazed.]

Ben: “I wouldn’t call that ‘lucky.’ Codger knew nothing about Rakepick or the Cursed Vault.”

[Carewyn felt her temper rising. She wanted to yell at Ben -- say she absolutely forbid him from getting involved, that she was not going to watch him throw himself into danger when R had no reason to go after him -- that she couldn’t protect him from R, if he acted like this -- that she didn’t want him to end up like Duncan --

Knowing that she’d open herself up too much and expose too many of the fears and insecurities she so fiercely guarded if she said any of this, however...Carewyn merely pursed her lips and glared reproachfully at Ben.]

“...We will discuss this later. In the meantime, I do not want to hear about you having threatened or picking fights with anyone else -- have I made myself clear?”

[Ben glanced away irritably.]

[The response should’ve been a gibe, but Carewyn didn’t rise to it. She instead slid off her sunglasses and looked Ben straight on in the eye, almost seeming as undaunted as he’d been.]

“That’s my boy.”

[Her voice could’ve been taunting, but despite its coolness, there was still a very serious, cutting edge to it.]

‘Mum’ is not an insult to me. Someone needs to look after you...

[With that, she brushed past Ben and left Knockturn Alley.]

((OOC: *giggles* Mama-Bear!Carewyn strikes again!

Height-wise Carewyn is 5′3″. The only person in her year I headcanon as shorter than her is Merula (5′2″) -- the people closest to her height-wise are Chiara and Penny (5′4″) and Charlie (5′5″). I like imagining Ben having grown quite a bit, starting off exactly Carewyn’s height as a first year, growing a bit more every year, and then shooting up like a bean pole in the summer before  sixth year. XD))

[foreverreadingbeautifulbooks]

Jonsa Fic Recs: Season 7 and 8 Fix-It Fics

So I started to make a rec post per a lovely anon request and honestly I couldn’t stop once I got started (my love for these fics knows no bounds and I ranted about each of them in italics below). There are so many talented writers in this fandom and tons of them have poured so much time and energy into writing such amazing fics that I wish they’d been given the reins to write the ending of the show. I tried to arrange all my recs below the cut in order of when they diverge from canon. Enjoy these fics and be sure to give these authors all some love cause they deserve so much of it! <3 

wolf, circle north by MissFaber

   Rating: Explicit      Word Count: 130,532

    Canon Compliant through: 6x10

Summary: Sansa and Jon fought to take Winterfell, now they will fight to keep it— against a dead army and their king, a dragon queen, a lioness, and a schemer with a poison tongue.  + an alternate season 7 & season 8

I just found this fic a few days ago and even though I’m not entirely caught up yet, I had to add it to the list because I am already in love! Every interaction between Jon and Sansa is so in character and so well-written. The slow burn is already killing me and I need more of it immediately. 

and no net ensnares me by @athimbleful

    Rating: Explicit      Word Count: 130,532

    Canon Compliant through: 7x07

Summary: Since Jon left, Sansa has struggled to keep things together and she longs for his return. However, when he does return things only become worse. Jon learns about his parentage and doesn't know how to make sense of anything, how to fix the inevitable mess the reveal will create, or how to protect the people he loves. But at least, after all these years, the pack is finally back together. Then, one day, Sansa disappears. Post season 7 fic.

I adore this fic so much!  Seriously, I pulled an all-nighter when I found this fic because as soon as I started reading it I couldn’t put it down! It’s that good! The plot is incredible  the characterizations are great, the endings of the villains work perfectly in the story, all the Starks are so smart and actually use the abilities they’ve spent seasons gaining, and the ending is perfect! (I mean every fic by @athimbleful is amazing, but this one in particular is probably my favorite because I found it right when I was feeling down about the S8 finale and it helped remind me why I love Game of Thrones and Jonsa so incredibly much!) 

they tumble down by @athimbleful

    Rating: Explicit     Word Count: 165,196     

    Canon Compliant through: 7x07

Summary: He meets her gaze for the shortest moment before turning to look out over the woods, gesturing at it with a gloved hand. “Is this why you brought me here? To talk about memories?” 

“No. I wanted to talk about marriage.”

When Sansa suggests it's time for her and Jon to marry, she means they should make marriage alliances with the other Northern houses. Jon, though, assumes she means they should marry each other.

A post s7 story where Jon and Sansa struggle to navigate their new political landscape while suppressing their feelings for one another, Arya does everything in her power to protect her pack, and Bran and Sam try to figure out how to kill the Night King.

This fic is amazing. I adore the plot of the fic and I always love a good Arranged Marriage AU. But I love this one in particular because Jon and Sansa are so soft with each other and it just melts me every time!  <3

what do you want (that you do not have) by @athimbleful

   Rating: Teen     Current Word Count: 80,865

    Canon Compliant through: 7x07

Summary: When the Winterfellians learn that Cersei has hired men to kidnap Sansa, they decide that Sansa needs to run away and Jon volunteers to protect her. During their travels the tension builds between them--especially after Jon suffers an injury and they're taken in by an older couple. Because, in hopes of protecting their identities, Jon and Sansa have to pretend to be happily married and in love. Every day. In close quarters. For quite some time.

Takes place after the war against the NK is won. Not a kidnapping fic.

I love every second of this incredible fic, even when it hurts how in love both Jon and Sansa are with each other when neither believes the other could love them back. Fair warning that the slow burn is ssslllooowww (thimbleful is literally the queen of the slow burn) and every painful second of it is amazing! The result of this author’s fics are always so satisfying and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

A Heart That Offends by @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

    Rating: Mature     Word Count: 44,583       Canon Compliant through: 7x07

Summary: Jon comes home. Unfortunately, he brings Daenerys with him. The Northerners are furious, Arya can hardly look at him, Bran needs to tell him something important, and Sansa -- well, Sansa is haunting Jon's every thought. Just another post-S7 fic.

As with everything this author writes, this fic is so satisfying in the best possible way! All the characters are so beautifully written and the conversations and fights between Jon and Sansa are absolute perfection! Lyanna Mormont and Arya are both incredibly badass and the politics are amazing! I loved every second of reading it!

we are buried in broken dreams by annabeth_writes

    Rating: Explicit   Current Word Count: 49,373     Canon Compliant (mostly) through: 7x07

Summary: Sansa and Jon sleeping together before he goes to Dragonstone and when he comes back he finds out she is pregnant.

A full on s8 fix-it fic at this point.

This fic is so full of Jonsa feels that it makes you want to burst. Pregnant Sansa is so brave and amazing. I adored watching her find out everything she could about Daenerys and then use that information to her advantage. The fic is very well-written so enjoy if you check this one out! 

victory is in my veins (oh ye of so little faith) by LadyAlice101

    Rating: Explicit   Current Word Count: 131,955     Canon Compliant (mostly) through: 7x07

Summary: “Jon,” Sansa says quietly, her hands twisting together in front of her. “Tell me the truth. Do you love her?”

He starts, eyes widening. “Love her?”

That’s all the confirmation she needs, but Jon rushes onward, stepping closer to her, hands outstretched and voice nervous, reassuring, as if he were a husband swearing to his wife that he loves only her. 

“Sansa, no, no, gods, after this, I hope I never have to see her again.”

// 

The Season 8 we deserved. (and that the characters deserved) (yeah i'll die mad about s8, sue me)

This fic was fabulous. It was genuinely so satisfying to read something with a better plot for the Starks (who actually talk to each other, what a concept?!) for every single episode of Season 8. (Seriously, any good therapist will recommend this as a cleanse for your soul! lol) 

At Dawn We Break, At Dusk We Stand by misspensandscribbles

    Rating: Mature    Word Count: 55,758      Canon Compliant through: 7x07

Summary: "Forgive me," he tells her, his voice is almost inaudible but there is no mistaking the pleading in his tone. He must only fall to his knees before her, and then he'll be no different from the slaves and beggars she had seen in King's Landing.

"For what, your Grace?" she asks, her voice cold and detached. She sees him wince as though her words have cut through his skin, yet she remains unmoved. She cannot afford to let herself feel now.

He doesn't answer her question. Instead, he offers an explanation. "I couldn't allow the North to go through yet another war, Sansa, especially not one against dragons."

Oh my gosh, this fic! I’m in love with the plot and Sansa is so brilliant and badass throughout every second. The politics are to die for and the tension between Jon and Sansa is sssoooo intense. Also, I am also always a fan of Jaime Lannister as the sworn sword to Sansa and I adore their relationship in this fic!

oh you fool, there are rules (the reckoning begins) by by @cat-stark​

    Rating: Mature    Current Word Count: 39,051     Canon Compliant through: 6x08 

Summary:For some reason, it’s Theon Greyjoy’s voice in Rickon's head as he begins to run. “If you ever find yourself on the wrong end of a bow, don’t run straight.”

- or - 

Baelish bastard. Lady Lannister. Lady Bolton. All names for one woman, the caged wolf who had learned how to play the game better than anyone. She would win the game for her family. She would do her duty to her king and country. 

Never let it be said the daughter of Eddard Stark was without honor.

I adore literally everything about this fic. The plot is amazing and the characters have been written so beautifully. The author has managed to perfectly capture Sansa’s headspace, which is incredible to read. It’s been absolutely heartbreaking to watch her deal with some of the situations handed to her, but she does it with such love, grace, and political acumen that I can’t get enough of it.  Please note that this is a complete Season 8 rewrite that has major departures from Season 7 and a few from Season 6. 

To Be In Your Arms Again by ScullyLikesScience

   Rating: Mature    Current Word Count: 43,500    Canon Compliant through: 8x03

Summary: Jon goes south to help Daenerys win the Iron Throne. Sansa goes south to save him.

"In winter, I plot and plan. In spring, I move." ~ Henry Rollins

It’s amazing just how much the Starks communicating with each other makes me happy in fics now, but this fic has them working together very well and I loved it! I also truly enjoyed the political conclusion of this fic. 

The Triumph of Winter by @foreverreadingbeautifulbooks

    Rating: Mature    Current Word Count: 28,754     Canon Compliant through: 8x05

Summary: Jon's heart constricted at the thought of his Sansa standing proud and defiant as dragonflames consumed her. “How could you do that?” he yelled. “How could you think that your death was an acceptable outcome?” 

“You hypocrite!” she responded, throwing the accusation in his face as she stepped in closer, chest heaving in time with his own. “As if you hadn’t used your own life as a bargaining chip to save the North - to save our family. I can play the same game, Jon. I’ve watched too many members of my family die for me to surrender you to the flames, not when I might be able to save your life with mine! Not- ”

“Sansa!” Jon cut her off, aghast at her words as he stepped in and gripped her arms. “Your life is far more important than mine could ever be.”

She met his eyes defiantly, a fury contained in them that ignited his bones. “Not to me.”

- or -

The political landscape has changed in the aftermath of Daenerys Targaryen's decimation of King's Landing. As the wolves and the dragons prepare for another battle, the realm can only hold its breath and wonder who will win the Game of Thrones after this.

I hope it’s not too presumptuous to add my own fic to this list as I’m having so much fun writing my own Season 8 fix-it fic. This is my attempt to answer all the questions I was left with at the end of the season as most were never addressed. It’s filled to the brim with Stark sibling moments, Pol!Jon, friendships, political intrigue, magic, and, of course, Jonsa.  

Brave, Gentle, and Strong by @the-last-of-the-starks

    Rating: Not Rated    Current Word Count: 12,991       Canon Compliant (mostly) through: 8x05

Summary: Jon and Arya return to Winterfell proceeding the sack of King's Landing to help rebuild their childhood home and a fallen Westeros. But will Jon and Sansa be able to rebuild their trust in one another and finally reveal their deepest, darkest secrets, or will those secrets tear them apart forever?

This fic is lovely and so far it’s been really interesting to get inside Jon and Sansa’s heads as they contemplate their relationship and everything that’s happened to them since they were first separated when Jon left for Dragonstone. As with many fics, I want to lock the two of them in a closet and not let them out till they talk to each other! I’m looking forward to more updates for this fic whenever they’re posted. 

there is a crack, a crack in everything (that’s how the light gets in) by sansaswildlinglover

    Rating: Not Rated    Current Word Count: 12,991       Canon Compliant (mostly) through: 8x05

Summary: When King's Landing falls, Sansa marches south, still unaware that the future of the Seven Kingdoms lies in her hands, and that the peace she will broker comes with a price...

Sansa finds herself back in Winterfell, separated from her family by distance, duty and yet another secret, raising another bastard child as she rebuilds herself, the castle and the North.

Jon heals in the True North, finding his own worth again, and discovering that even after being lost, he can find purpose in his own heart and mind again, even burdened by the crippling guilt and resentment which will take him many years to learn how to carry and let go.

Ten years is a long time, but they say time heals all wounds. But what if time only adds more complications? Winter is always coming, and even family, duty and honour are at odds sometimes.

This one is currently on hiatus, but I am looking forward to when it comes back because so far the characterizations are really good and I absolutely adore the premise of Sansa raising a Lannister bastard in Winterfell! 

Dear Jon by @sansa-in-the-north

    Rating: Not Rated    Current Word Count: 12,053         Canon Compliant through: 8x06

Summary: Sansa drops the quill onto the wooden table carved with the leaves of the heart-tree and leans back in her chair, letting out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Why do I struggle to find the words?”

Her sister’s grey eyes study her face attentively for a heartbeat. “Perhaps you don’t know what to say.”

“I do,” Sansa states without hesitation. “I know what to say.”

“But?”

Sansa shrugs, the thick grey furs draped over her shoulders rising and falling. “I don’t know if he’d like to hear from me.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

[…]

Jon rises from his seat and folds the letter, holding it tight in his hand, and strides towards the exit doors of the common hall. He looks for some parchment and a quill, and when he finds everything he needs, he takes a deep sigh and prays that his words do not fail him. She apologised, but I’m the one who should ask for forgiveness.

***

Post s8 (partially) epistolary fic in which Sansa and Jon begin exchanging letters to find comfort, solace and, eventually, forgiveness.

This fic is exactly what I hoped it would be when I found a link to it. The letters are sweet and sad and it’s good to see my darling Starks reaching out to each other after everything they’ve been through. 

all that's left are your bones by @cat-stark

    Rating: Not Rated    Current Word Count: 26,214          Canon Compliant through: 8x05 and part of 8x06

Summary: A raven flies North.The King of Westeros has need of a Stark once more.

- or - 

A reluctant king must learn to rule.

Jon is such an angry version of himself, but it works so well in this fic where he has been forced to rule a country he never even wanted to reside in. The position and his own resentments have slowly been eating away at his soul and I’m so excited to see where the fic goes next with his character. Sansa is such an amazing queen and it is lovely to see her conducting herself with such grace and dignity no matter what is thrown at her. 

wolves without teeth by @cat-stark​

   Rating: Not Rated    Current Word Count: 55,329        Canon Compliant through: 8x06

Summary: It was a common saying in the North, in the endless stretch of years following the Long Night, and the after. The pack survives, whispered the North. A time for wolves will come again. Not like this, Sansa thought desperately.

- or -

Five years after the destruction of King's Landing, Starks emerge from the godswood of Winterfell. Starks who should be dead.

This genuinely might be my favorite Jonsa fic ever. I adore the way my favorite characters get a chance to confront their family members on the ways that they’ve been hurt by them. It features all of the Starks that have been lost throughout the show and it’s lovely to see them again even as they struggle to make sense of the situation that they’ve found themselves in. The characters are all perfectly written and I’ve adored every interaction that each of them has had.

Check out more of my Jonsa fic rec lists here!

[ilovejevsjeans]

RICCIARDO IS FERRARI’S CHANCE TO MOVE WITH THE TIMES

(THIS IS FROM LAST WEEK- SO WE KNOW ITS NOT GONNA HAPPEN NOW BUT A LITTLE TEA WAS SPILLED.)

Thirteen years. Yes, it’s 13 years since Ferrari last won a world drivers’ championship with Kimi Raikkonen which, let’s be honest, it backed into to some degree thanks to the internecine insanity of Fernando Alonso vs Lewis Hamilton, Spygate and McLaren in 2007 (as well as Kimi actually trying, which he’s only done intermittently since). Since then, the sport’s most famous team has been a major but ultimately unsuccessful player as McLaren, Brawn, Red Bull and Mercedes have swept up every title on offer. Drivers have come and gone (and sometimes come back again), team principals have been switched in and out (we see you, Marco Mattiacci). And still Ferrari hasn’t been able to parlay its historical, financial and (ahem) regulatory advantages into anything other than regular race wins and consistent underachievement. Which means it’s time to change an approach that served it so well for so long, but has run its race.

In the early 2000s, when testing was unlimited, tyres were being made specifically for its car by Bridgestone and cigarette cash flowed like chianti at lunchtime, putting every egg in the Michael Schumacher basket was absolutely the right way to go about dominating the sport, and dominate Ferrari did. Give Schumacher the sharpest tool in the box, and he metronomically sliced the opposition to ribbons for five straight years with Rubens Barrichello riding shotgun. Since then, Ferrari has thrown its weight behind Raikkonen (save for that weird 2008 season when Felipe Massa became its best option to beat Hamilton and McLaren for the title), Alonso and Sebastian Vettel, the latter two of which could never repeat in red what they’d managed to achieve elsewhere.

Which brings me to Vettel, and the fact he’s out of contract at the end of this season (should it ever start). If he stays at Ferrari beyond 2020, emphasis on ‘if’, it seems he’ll need to accept a smaller pay packet and a reduction of status given Ferrari has hitched its wagon to Charles Leclerc, 10 years younger and with a contract in his pocket for four more years after this one. What if Seb decides that, with four world championships, 53 wins and a stack of money in his keeping, that enough is enough with Ferrari, or F1 in general?

Before we get into that, an interlude on Vettel [1]. It feels as though there’s been a massive swing in how he’s perceived in the past year or two; for a while, he was seen by many as being overrated [2] because of his relentless Schumacher-style winning from the front of the field when he had the best car in the business (2010-13), and that perception wasn’t helped by what happened when he didn’t (2014 and the first year of the new regulations at the time sealed that view in the minds of many). But to be dismissed so quickly as a Barrichello/Raikkonen/Massa (dare I say Mark Webber?) number two in favour of a driver who has won two Grands Prix and has precisely 21 Grands Prix of experience in a top-line car seems a little disrespectful and short-sighted. Yes, Vettel has his foibles (overdrives when emotional or when he feels slighted, gets the wobbles under pressure), but he’s still very capable of winning races and is a proper professional who puts in the work, two things Raikkonen has rarely been accused of doing since 2007.

Back to the topic du jour. If Ferrari have decided that Vettel isn’t a number one anymore, or at least isn’t worthy of number one money or opportunity to genuinely challenge for the title, then why not make a seismic shift to the intra-team dynamic while you’re at it? The Ferrari “way” didn’t work for Alonso, nor Vettel. Why would it then work for Leclerc, promising as he undoubtedly is, given his pedigree relative to two of the most successful drivers in F1 history? Is doing the same thing over and over, rinse and repeat the idea that all eggs in one basket is the way to go, really going to topple the winning machine that is Toto Wolff, Hamilton and Mercedes? It’s time to be bold.

If Ferrari in 2021 isn’t going to feature an underpaid, muted and surely demotivated Vettel, then Daniel Ricciardo is the ideal replacement. Why? Glad you asked.

One, he’s available, with his Renault contract coming to an end at the end of 2020. Two, he’s a race-winning driver who isn’t in a race-winning car [3], and isn’t likely to be for a while if he stays where he is despite Renault’s intentions and ambitions, and because of the gap between F1’s top three teams in Mercedes, Ferrari and Red Bull to the rest. Three, sections of Ferrari management who didn’t feel Ricciardo was an ideal fit in 2018 because, in part, of a perceived lack of seriousness for the task are no longer a factor. And lastly, Ricciardo will lick his lips at the chance to bet on himself, even if he’s signed, unofficially, as Leclerc’s wingman (sorry, Valtteri Bottas).

Financial pressures for Ricciardo aren’t a factor. The fire to ignite a world championship charge still burns. He’d be apolitical, respectfully competitive with Leclerc, perhaps pushing the Monegasque to a new level that Vettel never could, and Ferrari/Italy would love him and his approach (can you imagine the cries of ‘Reee-chee-ardo!’ at Monza?) He’s scared of nobody and has the results to prove it. And it would turn up the heat on Mercedes, while making his former employers at Red Bull entertainingly uncomfortable [4].- If I could frame that part I would.

Faced with a choice between driving down a no-through road that is the very definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result, the coronavirus-sparked chaos of 2020 gives Ferrari a chance to reset, rethink, and be bold. Ferrari’s ballsy move to fast-track Leclerc into a top seat paid dividends handsomely last year; let’s see if fortune can favour a brave call again by putting Ricciardo in red, a switch of approach that could help achieve a goal that has eluded it for more than a decade.

[1] Another Vettel thought. To this observer, he has always been someone who has had almost an endearing child-like love for racing, F1 and its traditions, and little time for any other peripheral distractions. Some drivers say they’ll never watch a race or be seen trackside again once they’re done, but they come back for the free money (“yeah, I reckon I could do some TV commentary …”) and/or because they miss having people blow smoke up their backsides every fortnight. You get the sense that Vettel would retreat into the Swiss countryside and never be seen again once he hangs up his helmet, but I’ve been wrong on that front before …

[2] In this part of the world, a lot of the Vettel/overrated commentary came out of him being teammates to Webber for as long as they were and the feeling among Australian fans that Webber wasn’t bad or a number two driver, to twist a little comment we heard along the way. Turkey 2010, Malaysia 2013 … people saw what happened and how management “handled” it, and it left a bad taste. Related: Azerbaijan 2018, and what will eventually be a must-read chapter in Ricciardo’s autobiography.

[3] Of the other contenders on the grid, Carlos Sainz is clearly good and hasn’t yet – emphasis on yet – had his chance in a race-winning car (he’d have been handy for Red Bull … never mind). Sergio Perez has had his chance in a top team and blew it, has been around as long as Ricciardo and has precisely seven fewer wins than the Australian’s seven. Esteban Ocon will surely get his shot in silver at some stage.

[4] Christian Horner’s face wouldn’t be as sour as it was in series one of ‘Drive to Survive’ with Cyril Abiteboul after Renault had signed Ricciardo, but it wouldn’t be far off. It’d be a bit like the ‘joy’ in certain sections of the Red Bull garage after Ricciardo nicked pole off Max Verstappen in Mexico 2018.

This was written by Matt Clayton, an Aussie media guy who used to write a lot if not all the content on Red Bulls site. He was a pretty good relationship with Dan. (X)