#middle school me i did not finish our book

[spiribia]

i'm looking at old school documents i have saved through my email, and here was a letter i wrote to myself in middle school as part of an English class assignment. the intent was it would be redelivered to us when we were graduating high school

It is very awkward to begin a letter to yourself. You don’t know where you are in x number of years – graduation from high school is not even really something that you think about as of now. You don’t know what to say because it’s weird to think about changing, and you don’t want to say anything that will make you sound the same.

So here’s a compromise: if you respect me, then I will not embarrass you.

It is actually more of a psychological thing going on and I am just trying to sound really smart, which should be pointless enough to prove that I don’t have any ill intentions.

I honestly don’t know what could be said to you; apparently when we grow up we are suddenly wiser and therefore any piece of knowledge I can impart to you is rendered– quote unquote – useless. But remember that I am older than you think, and you are younger than you think, and we are not that far apart in terms of years, seeing as time is a concept that humans created, and without that we are just floating in the void, and then I become you.

Middle school is a deeply unhappy part of life. It is two out of five stars. Would not recommend. Seeing as you have already gone through, it I find little necessity in reiterating any points about it; you had teachers, they tried to teach you things; the American schooling system, as refined as it tries to be at times, is flawed; you learned things for the sake of doing well on tests instead of retaining information, and largely succeeded in doing so. Middle school, among other things, made you a deeply unhappy person. I don’t know how you feel, because I suffered from nostalgia and the general ache of living three years ago, and I thought it would be over with by now. But it is now quite evident that the human brain is prone to only holding onto things that the body wants to dispose of. If you are still very much a sad, lonely person that I am now (I bet that you are) and even if you are not – I hate to say this, but you are loved. And if that in itself does not suffice, some stores sell cheap candy, and there are books in the world that you have not read and movies in the world that you have not watched, and by now you may or may not have a cat or something (congratulations prematurely), and even if you do not you have managed to live through high school, and you are off to college now, and you are about to grow up and experience all the parentless freedoms of living in a dorm and having people not tell you what to do. Is that not absolutely terrifying?

But it will be fun.

So, yes – I hope that you are happy. I cannot guarantee that you will be, but maybe something changes in your life, and you are, and maybe you have a cat or a dog or a horse, but a bird or two will do. Maybe those little baby turtles that can both fit comfortably in the palm of my hand, have grown up by now. There’s a book I’m writing, and the protagonist is a girl named Valerie, and I don’t know if I ever finish the book or if I start a new one, and if it sounds terribly juvenile to you now then I apologize, but it is the best that I can do. If you’re still working on it then you are most profoundly a slowpoke. Go get something done.

And maybe you’re not a writer. Maybe you end up in engineering or marine biology or zoo keeping, of all things; maybe you find your roots in mathematics, if you want a plot twist. What I’m trying to say is that this is totally strange and I have absolutely no idea what happens in the future – it’s all up to you while you still have the choice. It’s strange that you grow up and it’s strange that one of these days I will be old, possibly older than you. And maybe this letter never gets to you; maybe something happens and it ends up lost or read by someone who never was meant to read it (if that is the case, hello) and maybe you burn it as soon as you get it because you can’t stand my little childish voice because perhaps you’ve developed so much that you are suddenly beyond these things. Bear with me for a moment.

I am fascinated with the little things that could have happened and might have changed a lot of things: if I said one sentence off in a conversation, which way it would have gone. Maybe these things are the little parts that make up life, because it’s choked with more choices than you or I even realize, and I hope you’ve chosen the right ones, or at least the ones that make you happier. Instead of sitting on the right side of the bus all of the time, try the left. Of course you don’t take the bus and have not taken it in years, but it was something that took up a massive part of your academic life, little did you know; I have not even stopped taking them by the time I am writing this, but tomorrow is Friday, and then I will never ride a school bus to school again.

People tell you to live life to its fullest. That does not mean you live it to the standards of other people. You do not have to live through action and travel to every town in the world. You can sit in your room, and eat an apple, and like its taste and really, that is all. I wrote this as a bet into the future. I feel like I am talking – it’s strange to describe – to someone that I desperately want to impress. I was so disappointed in past reincarnations of myself that I am afraid that I will disappoint a future Self, and I feel inclined to make these last ties while I still can.

That is actually partially a lie. The real reason I wrote this was because my English teacher made me. It was a homework grade and I have likely already written a letter addressed to a future self in other parts of the year, so you are most likely about to see a good bit of me around. I am not completely dead. I will be with you always, whether you like it or not, so you might as well.

But once you get these letters, I’ll establish first: I am not dead. I am gone. You have taken my place. I don’t know in which direction you’ve taken it, but you’ve taken it nevertheless. Perhaps there’s still a part of me left, but really, only time can tell; there are always haphazard, oddly collected parts of people, and who knows if I am one of them.

Personally, I’m really excited to see where this goes.

Sincerely, You / Me / Us

[magentagalaxies]

someone just followed my fanfiction.net account (which i have not used since i was thirteen) and subscribed to the one fanfic i have on there (which, again, has not been updated since i was thirteen) and i completely forgot it existed so now i'm like oh i'm so sorry fanfiction.net user in 2023 that fic is never getting an update but i appreciate that someone still enjoys this random fic i put out into the universe

[reesestshirt]

When I was in middle school, I tried to learn how to crochet. I knew how to knit already, so I figured ‘how hard could it be’ and used my Christmas money on a brand new set of aluminum hooks and a how-to book.

To say it was difficult was an understatement. I spent hours pouring over my book, begging to gain some inkling of understanding from what felt like incomprehensible runes. My reward? One lopsided trapezoid of lumpy fabric and a resolve to never pick up a crochet hook again.

And so life went on, I finished middle school and high school without giving crochet so much as a second glance. In college, I read about how crochet couldn’t be replicated by a machine, it was unique in a way that knitting and many other fiber arts weren’t.

For Christmas last year, my girlfriend gave me what I now consider to be my most prized possession: a crocheted plush of my favorite pokemon. I raved over her skills and, since she never learned how to knit, we decided to have a yarn date at some point and teach each other our respective skills.

We never did get around to that yarn date. She passed a few months after our declaration, leaving me to inherit what was left of her yarn.

Nearly a decade after my initial attempt, I got ready for the toughest battle of my life. My weapons? One skein of yarn, a YouTube video, and a crochet hook that I had somehow never gotten rid of.

I slowly made my way through the video, redoing my work a couple times until I was satisfied with my product: a small, slightly misshapen rectangle.

I looked at my pristinely-made pokemon plush with hope for the first time in months and thought to myself, ‘maybe crocheting isn’t the hardest thing in the world, maybe you were just 12.’

Maybe this isn’t the hardest thing in the world. Maybe I’m just 21.

[menagerofmischief]

shrimp cocktail, cold appetizer, lobster, coca-cola, yes dessert, served by oscar piastri

Dia's Diner Menu

shrimp cocktail rivals to lovers cold appetizer rough sex lobster "I love watching my cum leak out of your pussy" coca-cola somnophillia dessert aftercare

Oscar Piastri x Ferrari!driver!reader

TW: one bed trope, unprotected sex (wrap you willy please), sleep dry humping

WC: 2k

A/N: I enjoyed writing this one a lot. Also I wanted to say I'm so thankful to all of you that sent requests and that I can't wait to write all of them but you'll maybe have to be patient with me because I'm a student and am pretty busy with school. I hope y'all are gonna enjoy this one.

Some bigger force, God or karma or fate or whatever else there is, was definitely out to get me. Because this had to be the worst fucking night of my life. I’m not being dramatic when I say that.

Why was this the worst night of my life?

We just made it to Singapore for the upcoming Grand Prix and went straight to our hotel. The whole grid was staying at the same place since it made things more convenient. I go up to the reception to check in and get the key to my room, all but ready to collapse into the mattress and sleep the jet lag off. 

“I’m so sorry Miss,” the receptionist says, tapping her fingers against the keyboard, glancing up at me every few seconds. Finally she looks up, her expression apologetic. “It seems there was a mistake with the booking and we double booked your room.”

I fight off the urge to groan and roll my eyes, instead plastering a smile on my face. “It’s fine, it’s not that big of a deal. Just put me in whatever room is available.”

She makes a face, looking down at the computer again and then returning her gaze to mine. “I really am sorry but there are no other rooms available right now.”

Now I really did groan. “Fantastic. Can I know who the other person occupying the room will be?”

Before the receptionist had the chance to answer, my worst nightmare in human form came up to the desk, standing right next to me. “Hello. I’m here to check in - it’s under Oscar Piastri.”

The woman - I finally glanced at her name tag, seeing her name was Alice - looked between us, then down at the computer before looking at us again. “Sir, as I was just explaining to the lady here, the hotel double booked your room by accident.”

“It’s fine just put me in a -”

“There’s no available rooms.” I cut him off. “Just the one.”

Oscar looked at me, narrowing his eyes. McLaren’s golden boy, affectionately nicknamed ‘the polite cat’ by the fans was the biggest thorn in my side for a long while now. Everything started back in F2 with our on track rivalry which grew with each race. Then I signed into F1, fulfilling my childhood dreams of racing in red and thought I escaped him. I thought too soon apparently because after my announcement post, his followed soon and I was once again back on track with him.

Did I have a reason to hate him? Absolutely! Was it awfully petty and possibly over-dramatic? Very likely. It was my first race in F2, I was about to finish P2 it was amazing. Then he crashed into me and drove us both into the wall, causing us both to DNF and lose out on a podium.

We have hated each other ever since.

“It’s okay - we’ll share.” Oscar’s voice brought me out of my thoughts, quickly turning my head to look at him.

“What!?”

Oscar took the key from Alice and dangled it in front of me, a smirk on his face. “I said we’re gonna be bunking.” He pulled the handle of his suitcase, “Come on then, Y/n”

✿ ✿ ✿

“You stay on your side of the room,” I said, putting the chair in the middle of the room to make it a half marker. “And I’ll stay on mine.” The one queen size bed would definitely be a problem as well, but one I would mention later.

“And how are you gonna go the bathroom since it’s on my side?” He asked, his voice holding a teasing tone.

“Bathroom if free ground, hallway too” I stated, crossing my arms over my chest.

Oscar’s gaze dropped down, stayed for a few seconds and then his eyes met mine again. He hummed, “And if I wanna open the window then what? Since it’s on your side.”

“Don’t act smart,” I told him. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“You wound me!” He gasped, pressing a hand over his heart.

“Shame it’s not fatal.”

✿ ✿ ✿

This was definitely the weirdest night of my life.

With only one bed in the room, no couch and neither of us willing to put our body in uncomfortable positions sleeping on the chair or on the floor, night before practice - Oscar and I made an agreement to share the bed.

One of the extra blankets from the closet was bunched up and put down the middle of the bed separating the two us. Not that it served much purpose considering that it was kicked down and off the bed while we were sleeping.

I woke up, rubbing my eyes to adjust to the dark and then I felt it. The slow, yet desperately feral rolls, the pressure and the pleasure. I had to press a hand against my mouth to stop myself from moaning, taking in deep harsh breaths through my nose.

I came to a realization about three things, so goes:

Oscar had moved a bigger part of his body onto my side of the bed.

He had pulled me close and caged me in his arms sometimes during the night.

He was grinding his very much hard cock into me -  in his sleep.

My cheeks were on fire and it felt like the rest of my body was too. The pajamas, which I purposely picked out because of how light they were, felt suffocating now.

I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was done, my body moving on its own. One leg pushing slightly forward, opening just enough space for Oscar’s hips to chase mine and my ass slowly barely grinding back into him.

I was enjoying this much more than I should have and it was wrong. God, it was so wrong. But when his erection was rubbing so perfectly against me, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I was wet, I knew I was. I could feel how soaked my panties had gotten and the uncomfortable feel of my slick underwear did not escape me. As the pressure increased I couldn’t help but let out a moan.

The noise felt deafening in the silent room and my eyes widened. Oscar’s body stilled and my breath caught in my throat, the dread of having woken him with my moans taking over me.

A moment passed, two moments passed. Then Oscar’s hands tightened around my body, pulling me even closer to him, my ass pressed just against the outline of his dick. One of his hands moved down my stomach, dipping into the waistband of my sleeping shorts and going straight down into my panties.

He ran a finger through my folds, coating it in my slick and it took everything in me not to moan. “You’re fucking dripping,” his voice in my ear made me freeze. Awake afterall. “This wet from me humping you? And here I thought you hated me.”

The pad of his finger touched my clit, a gasp falling from my lips at the pleasurable feeling. “Did you enjoy me rutting into you while I was sleeping, you dirty dirty girl?” He added more pressure, rubbing circles on my clit and this time I didn’t hold my moans back. “Woke up halfway through, when you started grinding your ass on me like a bitch in heat. You seemed so into it, I thought I’d just keep going.”

“Wasn’t,” I whispered.

“What was that?” He growled into my ear.

“Wasn’t grinding on you,” I said, through gritted teeth.

His fingers pinched my clit and my whole body surged forward, mouth falling open to let out a loud moan. “Don’t lie,” he said, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh don’t worry sweetheart, you will.”

Oscar pulled his fingers out of my panties, making me whine at the loss of friction on my clit. His chuckle vibrated through the room. He got up onto his knees on the bed, arms coming forward to grab my shoulders, and pulled me roughly so I was laying on my back.

I couldn’t help but look at him above me. His eyes were full of lust, pupils blown wide and cheeks red. As much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself, he looked absolutely ethereal. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said, fingers hooking into the waistband of my sleeping shorts.

I held his gaze, a shaky breath falling from my mouth. “Don’t stop.”

In one move he pulled down both my shorts and my panties, throwing them behind him without a care. Then he took off his own shorts, followed by his boxers - that ended up being thrown somewhere too. He pulled me up enough to take my top off, and then pushed me down again, leaving me completely bare. 

Oscar leaned over me, his mouth drawn in a smirk, his breath hot on my face. “Tell me not to kiss you.”

“Kiss me,” I whispered. He didn’t waste a second, as soon as the words were out of my mouth he was surging forward, his lips pressing harshly against mine, tongue pushing into my mouth. He pulled slightly back, my lip caught before his teeth and he gently bit down, making me whine into his mouth.

“Fuck me,” I panted into his mouth. “Please just -”

I didn’t get to finish what I was saying as he pushed himself into me fully in one go, making me scream. His hand pressed against my mouth, muffling the noises I was making. “Do you want to wake the whole hotel up?” He asked as he began thrusting, pulling himself out until only the tic was still in me and then forcefully pushing back in again. “Some people came here to sleep, not to listen to you moaning like a whore on my cock.”

His other hand went between us to rub my clit. I was practically sobbing as he worked his fingers in fast circles around my clit while roughly thrusting into me. My vision was blurred with tears that were spilling from the corners on my eyes.

Oscar’s hand moved only a little, leaving room for me to speak but close enough for my lips to brush against his palm with each word. “Cum,” I babbled. “Gonna cum! Oscar, please!”

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice hoarse. “Gonna cum for me like a good little slut? Go on then - cum”

I came with a moan, wrapping my legs around his waist and caging him in. Oscar fucked me trough my orgasm, his own following. He twitched inside of me before cumming, painting my walls and making me whine at how full I felt.

He pulled out of me slowly and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. After a moment he returned with a wet, probably warm, towel in his hands. He kneeled on the bed and gently spread my legs with his hands.

“Fuck,” Oscar groaned. “I love watching my cum leak out of your pussy.” His fingers dipped to collect some of his cum which had spilled out of me and was slowly dripping towards my ass, and pushed it back into me, causing me to gasp.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead and somehow my cheeks burned ever hotter. After he gently cleaned me up and terrorized me to drink water, he laid down in bed next to me and pulled my body into his, arms wrapping around me.

“Are you finally going to let me take you out to dinner?” He asked, his voice husky and breath hot against the side of my face.

I hummed, my eyes barely open and already feeling sleepy. “Don’t crash into me while I’m winning on Sunday and we’ll see.”

“That was one time!”

I chuckled, placing my hands over his hand on my stomach. “Yeah, I’ll let you take me out to dinner.”

Believe it or not this might have actually turned out to be one of the best nights of my life.

[gghostwriter]

could you do spencer x fem!reader where he proposes in the middle of chasing an unsub?

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader Trope: Established relationship; Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k A/N: slowly finishing up on the remaining requests on my inbox. It’s taking me quite some time as I’m a mood writer so there’s days where I’m purely focused on my ideas then theres days where i’m motivated to finish the requests and theres days where i have no will to write a single word at all. Found myself rambling and immensly enjoying where the idea was going so hopefully this lives up to your expectation, no matter how late or unedited this is. Enjoy! Main masterlist

Curveball. // Spencer Reid

This wasn’t how Spencer planned it. Not at all.

By nature, he was a stickler to rules and organization. Having created a mind map on the trajectory of his life from the very first time he realized how different he was from the rest. Graduate early in high school, check. Get multiple BA and PhD degrees, multiple checks. Join the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico, big check. Everything was planned out. No matter how big or small.

Or at least it was, up until you strolled into the bullpen with your sensible heeled boots, crisp button downs, and tailor fitted slacks. A new recruit directly slotted by David Rossi, just like how Jason Gideon pulled rank to get him in the BAU. The stark difference was you weren’t as green as he was back then, fresh from the academy. With your credentials considered one of the best and with beaming approval from the BAU’s co-founder, David Rossi, and former member, Katie Cole of CACU, you were an immediate shoe in for the position—joining the team’s dynamic quite effortlessly and with ease.

Meeting you and falling helplessly in love with you by the end of your 6-month stay in the team was never written in Spencer’s books. He never thought once that he would find, as cliche as it sounded, a forever companion beyond the platonic relationships built within the team. He, in all of his intellect, also never thought you’d end up viewing him the same way but you did. He was so glad you did. Any disruption it caused to his mind map was a change he wholeheartedly welcomed as long as he got to come home with you wrapped in his arms.

But at the following moments, Spencer was re-considering his standpoint on the thrown curveballs that come his way all from being devotedly enamored with you.

“Spencer Reid!” you stomped your foot on the carpeted floor of the shared hotel room to gain his attention. “Did you suggest to Hotch that I be on geographical profile duty with you rather than being out with my usual partner Morgan?”

“What? No—no! Why would you think that, princess?”

With your arms crossed on your chest, hip cocked to one side, and analytical eyes cataloguing his every fidget, he knew his lie was done for.

You scoffed. “Oh I don’t know, besides from the fact you can’t look me in the eye, what else is there?” You took a minute to pause for dramatization. “Oh I know, is it because I bear a striking resemblance to all the victims? Or is it because of what happened during the last case?”

He scrunched his nose, giving himself away. “You got shot without me there, of course I got worried! What if—what if you weren’t wearing your kevlar vest or what if the unsub aimed higher, making sure to land a critical hit?” His form slumped down on the bed. “I can’t bear the thought of you in danger while I’m not around to protect you.”

“Spence, our job comes with a risk and I’m good at my job—”

“I know you are. I’ve seen you in target practice and tackle unsubs bigger than you but it also comes with the boyfriend territory that I worry whenever you’re away.”

You sighed, sitting beside him and taking his hand into yours. The difference in size was a sharp reminder on how petite and delicate you are in Spencer’s eyes. “And I get that too when we’re on duty and apart but you know what gets me by?” He shook his head, doe eyes peering into yours with such adoration. “Trust. I trust you to always come back to me, safe. In turn, I need you to trust me to do my job and take extra pre-caution with every decision I do in the field. Can you do that for me, sweet boy?”

He slowly nodded his head. “I—I can do that.”

“Next time, let’s also communicate any small or big concerns, okay Spence? I’d rather not feel lost and confused the next time a problem arises.”

“As long as you promise the same to me.”

You smiled before nodding your head in return. “Of course.”

He leaned in. Kissing those pouty lips that had been calling for him like a siren ever since the disagreement ensued.

———

“Alright,” Hotch’s no-nonsense voice called everyone’s attention. “The group of unsubs are currently holding two civilian hostages inside this very building. Morgan, Y/N, and Prentiss, you take the left entrance. Reid and Rossi, you’re with me at the right entrance.” Numerous affirmatives were echoed. “They’re armed and have proven themselves capable of killing. Vests tight and keep vigilant.”

Footsteps dispersed for preparation but before you could escape from Spencer’s line of sight, he pulled you close, adjusting your vest and making sure it was strapped tight around your chest.

“Be careful out there.”

A small smile graced your face before quickly disappearing from the thick tension all around the vicinity. “Always am. You too.”

“I mean it, princess. I need you back in one piece so I can marry you.”

You sucked in a breath. “W-what?”

“This wasn’t how I planned it but—” Hotch’s voice interrupted his ramblings. Reid. He turned and nodded once before returning his gaze back to your gobsmacked face. “—you did say to communicate right away so I love you and I want to marry you—” he squeezed your clammy hand into his. “—will you say yes?”

Reid. Another commanding voice coming from the unit chief.

Spencer smiled then before beginning his steps back to his position. It felt exhilarating to finally be the one throwing the curveball at you, no wonder you found joy in it—no matter how unconscious you were doing it. “I’ll hear your answer after, okay?”

“Oh, we’re so talking about this later.” you narrowed your eyes in return, taking steps to your opposite position. “Yes, Reid. See you later.”

Spencer looked down at his muddied sneakers, eyes gleaming from mirth and soul flying high unbound before taking a deep breath, schooling everything away and focusing all of him to catching these group of unsubs.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad not having everything go according to plan. After all, didn’t they usually say that the best things usually come when he’d least expect it? And you were the perfect definition of that phrase. His own beautiful disruptor and he wouldn’t have you in any other way.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[stormyrainyday]

lumping in the horny side of booktok into this too sorry you missed your wattpad phase you don't need to have it at 25

i mean this in the kindest way possible bc i too am a fanfic reader (and writer!) but some of yall need to read real books

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.6 K Warnings: None Prompt: Time to wrap it all up, and perhaps receive one or two surprises. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 42: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Wednesday, December 23rd

The art store was small, but filled with colours all around. Small little black cabinets with golden numbers on top behind the counter, and walls lined with different paint pots and colours, a wall with wooden frames and delicately separated boxes that held paint brushes of all different sizes and shapes and, by the bits you’d read, also materials. 

At the top of the cabinets there was a small display of colourful markers and pens and other things that you knew muggles used but you weren’t too familiar with. Apparently, they used stick glue instead of sticking spells to adhere stuff. You wondered how much of this stuff Sirius actually knew about and vowed to bring him to this place with you one day. 

And while you did appreciate art, thoroughly – you’d gone to multiple museums, both muggle and wizarding through your trips – you had no idea what the difference was between gouache and acrylic, or why the “Rembrandt” that claimed to be made out of oil, where much more expensive than the “Winsor & Newton” ones that claimed the same. It had to be because of the quality, right? 

“Good evening, may I help you?” a young man, probably in his late twenties asked as he approached you. He was dressed in rather formal clothes and had a pair of thin-rimmed golden glasses. You would have probably considered him attractive if you hadn’t been accustomed to Sirius’ dashing looks or Remus’ lovely smile. You really were lucky to be surrounded by handsome and pretty humans, you thought, thinking of the rest of your friends. 

You must have looked as lost as a Bowtruckle in the middle of New York since he looked like he would try to be overly polite. 

“I’m looking for a gift, my boyfriend loves to draw, but I’m… not really good with all the supplies and stuff, I was thinking perhaps a nice set of pencils and a sketchbook. I’ve been looking through the paints as well, but I don’t think he’s the kind to do the whole canvas thing, at least not while we’re in school.” 

“Well, does he colour his drawings?” 

You thought about it for a moment, what he’d shown you were mostly sketches done in pencil, though there were some with an underlayer of red and or blue. “I think he uses some for the base of the drawings.” 

“Does he overline them?” The expression you gave him when he asked made him clarify it. “After the pencil sketch is done, does he add a pen or marker to finish up the details?” 

Sirius did not do that, but you also thought how complicated it would be to do such a thing with a quill instead of the pens and trinkets the muggles had invented so you nodded in response. “Yeah… not that often but I’m sure he’d like something to be able to do it.” 

“All right, follow me,” he said as he motioned to one of the furthest walls. “This is where we keep all of our sketchbooks, the thicker the grammage the stronger pens and markers it will hold. Also, some can even hold watercolour, not sure if he’s into that too.” 

“Do you have like – a book on the basics of watercoloring? I feel like he might actually be interested in that.” 

“We do,” he said with a nod and moved to the other side of the store bringing you a few options. You picked one of them and then looked through the sketchbooks. There were different sizes and colours and the pages felt really different on most of them. Some were especially made for watercolours and some were for drawing. You took one with about 100 pages for watercolour and one with the same amount of pages but with a bit less grammage for sketches. 

They both had a black cover with golden elegant trims that you thought would definitely go with Sirius’ look, although one opened from the side, making it more of a panoramic view while the other one stayed horizontal. You handed them in to the guy and he took them to the counter as you continued looking around. You leaned into the watercolour section and started to look at all the different options available. 

“If this is the first time he’ll do watercolour, may I recommend you buy a set?” he asked politely as he showed you a small wooden case, when he opened it there were all sorts of small blocks with different colours on them. “These are my favourite brand, but really gentle with beginners, they also come with this interesting thing,” he added as he handed you a small brush with a clear section at the top. “It comes with water, you don’t have to dip your brush that often, really useful once you get the hang of it.” 

“You have more of those?” you asked and he nodded, showing you the different sizes of brush ends. After a while, and with a lot of his help, you ended up selecting about 5 different brushes and the colours that you’d fill the small wooden box with as well, which you thought was fantastic since you could fill it up with whatever colours you chose and not a set palette. 

“You’ll also take the marker set, the watercolour book and the sketchbooks, correct? Anything else?” 

“Uhh… Am I missing anything that he might need?

“Does he draw portraits or landscapes?” 

You thought back of the Remus drawing he’d shown you, and then of the one you had chosen not to see. “He draws portraits and anatomy studies. Though I’m sure I’ve seen him doodle other stuff too.” 

“He might like this book then,” he told you as he handed over another book. It was about proportions and hand drawing and a lot of very advanced-looking stuff, you smiled. 

“This one as well, please…” he was about to finish the bill when you stopped him, looking down through the glass display and pointing towards something, “Is that a penknife?” 

“Well, yes,” he replied, “Although sharpeners are used more often nowadays, some people still prefer them.” 

“I’d like one of those as well,” you added with a smile. 

“Excellent.” The man gave you your total and then handed every single thing in a thick paper bag. “You said it was for a gift, right?” 

“Yes,” you nodded and he walked to the back of the shop, pulling a very elegant and sturdy black box, he eyed the bag as if calculating if everything would fit and then handed it over to you along with a black and gold ribbon with the name of the store repeated over and over. 

As he handed it over he pulled it back for a second and gave you a smile. “That young gentleman is very lucky to have you as a girlfriend.” 

“I think I’m just as lucky as he is,” you responded with a small smirk as you took the box. 

“Would you like me to call you a cab?” 

You thought about it for a second. Your house wasn’t that far, and with a short levitating spell you wouldn’t have to carry much stuff either, but the Knight Bus did mention they’d be very busy and you had been walking all day. “Yes, thank you.”

The man called for one and you waited inside the store until the cabbie arrived. You gave him your address and he took you straight there. You took the lift of your building, using your wand to unlock the secret –magical- floor your parents had purchased in London and waited. 

When the two, golden doors of the lift opened to your drawing room, you sighed. Leaning down to take off your shoes. “Mom? Dad?” 

No answer. “What time is it?” you whispered to yourself as you looked at the clock, quarter past ten? That art store surely has late closing times, you thought as you leaned back down to pull your bags up and drag them to your room. 

There was a note on the table along with what looked like a delightfully looking salad and steak. 

We’ll be home late, serve yourself. See you tomorrow darling.

You sighed and after placing the bags on the table, and using a warming spell on the food, you ate. Once you were done, the plate disappeared from the table and instead, a chocolate cake showed up. You smiled, at least they knew you liked sweets. You took a few bites from that and took it, along with your gifts, to your room. 

That’s when you remembered you had promised to tell your friends when you arrived here so you quickly scribbled a few notes. Sending your owl –Resse– back to the Potter’s and Barnaby –the family’s owl– to Beth. Then you took some Floo powder and leaned over the fire. 

“Tom?” You asked as you peeked through his chimney. 

“Sly sprite?” He asked as he leaned over. “I was starting to worry,” he said as he left a book on the side. “You got home, all right?” 

“Yeah!” you said with a smile. “And I got a bunch of good stuff at the store too, it was worth it.” 

“It better have been! Beth is home too, we stopped by hers first.” 

You chatted with Tom for a little while more and ended the call when you started to yawn and he followed right after. With that, you went for a quick and warm shower and then back to bed. 

Thursday, December 24th

There was a soft knock on the door, you stirred on your bed but didn’t wake and then there was another one. “Sweetheart? Breakfast’s ready, come eat.” 

“On my way,” you said as you sat on your bed and rubbed your eyes a couple of times. The day was bright, you’d forgotten to shut your windows at night and now you had the perfect view of the Thames through your window. You thought back to Hogwarts and how all the splendour of it had been made by magic, while the splendour of London had mostly been made by muggles. 

The high skyscrapers, the Ferris Wheel across the river, the towers, palaces and bridges, all muggle-made, and without magic, it was fascinating. You didn’t understand why wizards had so many prejudices against them –aside from the whole burning on steak part, muggles seemed to be quite incredible and determined people.  Perhaps you should have taken that muggle studies optative. 

“Sweetheart?” you heard your father’s voice, a bit more stern than your mother’s. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you said as you shook your covers off and grabbed your wand from the nightstand. “As if they hadn’t been home hours after I got here,” you mumbled as you fished for a pair of slippers under your bed. 

By the time you got out of your room both your mom and dad were sitting on the living room table. Your mom was wearing a beautiful cocktail dress while your dad had a perfectly fitting black suit on with a small cape, draped elegantly behind his chair. You were still wearing a band shirt you had stolen from Sirius a while ago, and that you had been wearing under Remus’ jumper before the trip. “Lovely to see you,” you said with an awkward smile, “it’s been a while.” 

Your father looked up from his newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand only for a second, nodded and then went back to read. Your mom gave you a sympathetic look and nodded for you to sit down. After a couple of minutes, your dad bent the newspaper and placed it on the side of the table.  

“We’ve heard plenty of your Hogwarts Adventures,” your father said looking at you. “You’ve been doing a masterful job at maintaining our house’s name relevant.”  

You frowned at that, that had never been your intention. 

“You were incredible in the broom race though you lost,” your father said. “And you’ve won two quidditch matches–” 

“That was a team effort…” you said, your voice growing smaller as his hand dismissed you. 

“You’ve kept your grades high and you’ve even entered the duelling club…”

“Not to mention her Theoretical Magic grades,” your mom added with a smile. 

“And you’re dating one of the Black kids.” 

You swallowed. You had mentioned in your letters that you and Sirius had gotten along now that you were in the same house, but you hadn’t specifically mentioned you were dating him.

“The disowned Black kid,” your father continued. 

You straightened a little, you had discussed with your dad the things that happened back in your vacations with the Blacks. It hadn’t been particularly nice talk, but you weren’t going to back down, his political means could not be worth more than his morals. And things had been rather tense between the two since then.

When two people had such intense ideological differences and desires, they were bound to clash against each other, especially when those ideologies juxtaposed against the other often, being only furthered by the fact that you were –at least on breaks– living under the same roof. 

Your priorities had been wildly different and you weren’t shy about letting him know, which caused your relationship to deteriorate quickly. Not to say you –or him– had been particularly rude to each other, but you were much colder. It was almost Christmas, and you didn’t want to start a fight with him, let alone over something that you were most definitely not going to yield on. 

“I think it’s all right. He might have been disowned by his family but he still stays in contact with some of the other Blacks like Alphard and the other disowned child… whatever her name is…” Andromeda, you thought as you tried to process the fact that he had just said it was fine. “Just try to avoid mentioning him in tomorrow’s dinner. I’m sure Walburga wouldn’t be particularly pleased.” 

“Tomorrow’s dinn– Walburga will be coming?” 

“Of course not, they have invited us to their Christmas dinner,” he said. “It’ll be hosted in Rosier Manor, I believe.” 

“Whose manor?” You asked, your breath going short along with your question. 

“Mr. Rosier,” your mom repeated. “All important wizards will be there.” 

“I’d rather skip Christmas altogether.” 

“I’m sorry, darling. This isn’t a matter of preferences. You will go and then we’ll let you do whatever you please for the rest of the break. Visit muggle London as much as you want or dally with your friends, I really don’t care as long as you maintain your composure during tomorrow’s dinner.”

Your leg was bouncing slightly under the table. “I don’t believe I will be welcomed in that house.” 

“You will be welcomed because you are my daughter and I’m me,” he said with an air of finality. “We need to present a strong family front, play your part and you’ll be rewarded.” 

“Right, my part,” you said bitterly. You wondered if your mother was playing her part too, they were in love, that wasn’t questionable, but sometimes it felt like she became nothing more than an addition to his recollection of what a perfect life should look like. Did he marry her because of the love he felt for her or because she’d look like a delightful trophy wife by his side on political dinners? Had she not been as beautiful as she was, had she not been well educated, would he have married her either way? 

You wondered, when had Silas become the man he is now? When did his greed for power become so intense he would sacrifice his morals to achieve it? When you were smaller, you thought they loved each other, even now, you saw when they looked at each other with those adoring eyes, but… there was a tale of sacrifice weaved in between their story, and with one party constantly bending to the other’s wishes, you weren’t sure you could still call it love. 

When devotion became toxic, was it still something that came from love, or had it become something else altogether? 

“Indeed darling, we ask for nothing more than one night. Then you will not be bothered, free to go wherever you want and with whomever you please. Does that sound like a fair deal?” 

You sighed and nodded, “One dinner.”

Your mother smiled at that, letting out a nervous breath and then reached for your hand. “Your clothes for tomorrow are already in your closet, I also got you some nice potions and make-up.” 

“Thanks, Mum,” you said with a short smile and looked at your food. It looked delicious, it was French toast with berries and fruit on top –probably there to appeal to your sweet tooth and convince you to go– but you didn’t feel hungry at all. Especially not at the thought of having to go to Rosier Manor. As if you didn’t see enough of Evan at school, now you had to go see him on the break as well, bIoody brilliant. “Breakfast was great,” you said as you stood up. Both of them decided to ignore your almost intact plate, “I’ll be in my room in case you need anything else, you know like me playing the role of the perfect child of the politician if your friends come around or whatever.”

Your mom gave you a reproachful look while your dad gave you an impassive one, you raised your eyebrows at the two of them, almost tauntingly before you turned around, walking back to your room and letting the door close behind you gently –it was not the inanimate objects fault that your parents were acting like pricks. 

You sat on your bed and took a deep breath before you saw a small owl by one of your windows, you let him in and took the rolled parchment from his feet before feeding him some water. 

Dear Vix, Hope this letter finds you all right, Sirius was moaning about you going along Beth and Tom and not inviting him to buy Christmas stuff it was draining! Now I was not going to write to you about it because he said he would punch me in the face but I had to write anyway since mum and dad wanted you to have our address so you could come here through floo anytime.  Hope you’re having a great time, Sirius and I went flying with Pete today (he lives a few houses from us, did we tell you?), and while it was nice not having to worry about Sirius distracting himself from snogging you, we missed you still.  Mum and Dad send greetings to your parents, hope you’re also having a blast.  Your bestest friend, James P.  PS. Mum sent this tea for you, she said she thinks you’d like it with how much sweet stuff you eat and stuff.  PS 2. Love you, but I bet you’re missing me more <– That was Sirius. 

James’ stupid letter made you chuckle, especially the last bit, as if it had been necessary to point out that Sirius had been the one to write it. You placed the letter into a small box in your bag and smiled as you walked to pick up some of the stuff you’d be giving your friends as their gifts.  

You picked up some wrapping paper and started wrapping all of their gifts, the owls would have to do a couple of trips to take them all to their place, but you’d make sure to leave them plenty of food throughout the night, so they could continue their trips and the presents would be at your friend’s beds in the morning. 

You had gone through most of the smaller gifts first, writing small, and neatly written Christmas cards on them. Then you went for the bigger ones, the books you’d gotten for Lily, some of the stuff for Mary and Marlene, James’ pack, and of course, Remus and Sirius’. 

It wasn’t until then, that you realised how overboard you had gone with your gifts. You’d gotten Remus so many books, both magical and muggle, that you almost felt guilty you hadn’t gotten Lily and James more stuff. And then you tried telling yourself it was because Remus would spend Christmas alone and he deserved at least a bit of happiness, you weren’t deliberately playing favourites. 

And then Sirius’ pile was clearly a mess, you had all the music you’d gotten, the shirts, the penknife that you wanted to engrave with his name (you were researching for the right spell to do it) and a bunch of other stuff for him. Besides, you still wanted to make the playlists, so before you finished packing the bigger boxes, you started testing the recorder. Now there wasn’t exactly a step by step guide on how to record music, but there was a small booklet that showed you how the thing worked and you spend the rest of the day figuring it out, listening to music and making a playlist for each of your friends. Using all the songs you thought they might like.

When you were done with that, you continued packing all the stuff. Deciding to send all the music back to the boys’ room at Hogwarts so they could leave it on Sirius’ stash. Well, all of them except for the David Bowie tape you had specifically gotten for Sirius and that would look great with his shirt and the rest of the gifts you’d gotten him. 

You went out to get some food at some point during the day, and there was another note from your parents telling you they were off at an event. Well, good riddance, you thought as you went back to your room with a sandwich in your hands. You picked one of the books you’d gotten for yourself and you spent almost the rest of the day reading it while jamming to one of the playlists you’d made. A copy of the one you’d made for Remus since you thought it went well with the book you’d chosen to read. 

You fell asleep before your parents got home, with the book still in your hands and the music playing softly in the background until the cassette ran out of tape and was softly ejected by the machine. The sound it made had been so soft it didn’t wake you at all. 

Thankfully, you had remembered to leave enough water and food for the owls, since they had spent all night doing trips back and forth to your house and your friends’. 

Friday, December 25th

You woke up by being pecked in the face by a very big and very angry owl. 

“Oi!” you complained. “What’s wrong with you?” The owl chirped and picked you again, this time on the ear. “Bitch,” you mumbled as you pushed him back lightly, only for him to pick you in the finger again. 

You gave him an upset look and he pulled back just a little, tilting his head towards the window, and the lack of food and refreshments. 

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been attacking me non-stop?” you asked as you stood up from the bed, failing to see the pile of wrapped gifts at the end of it. The owl chirped in response, a scowl that you weren’t sure was his natural face shape or an actual scowl directed towards you. “I’m sorry,” you added, “Barnaby and Reese must have eaten them all. They did many trips last night, you know?” 

The owl chirped again, a little angry as he flew towards the window, as if saying «I too flew many trips last night» looking as indignant as a Towny Owl could. You added a few of the special snacks you kept for Reese just to keep him from biting you again. You looked at the name tag and realised who the owner of the owl had been. 

Eun-ji, Minho had told you about her, she was his family’s owl and apparently, the name meant something like “kind”. So much for a kind owl, you thought as you looked at her, gobbling up Reese’s treats. You leaned over when you noticed there was a small letter attached to his feet and took it in your hands before the owl flapped his wings and left. 

Merry Christmas Star Seeker,  Hope you’re having a great time. Thought of giving you a special thanks for that one time you –quite literally– pushed me towards my crush and got us to start a conversation, that, well, you know how great it ended!  Even for a Gryffindor, you’re really nice, so I thought of getting you something for you to get some more hate from your fellow Gryffindor, Eun-ji must have left the gift near your bed.

You turned to the side in the middle of reading and stood agape, there was not only a green and silver wrapped gift in what looked suspiciously like the shape of a snake, but there were also a bunch of other gifts wrapped in all sorts of colours. 

Anyway thanks for everything, hope you have fun and all. I’m looking forward to beating you all next time we play,   Love,  The one and only, and your favourite Slytherin, Minho Cha. 

You rolled your eyes at the last bit, it had been very Slytherin of him, but since you knew Minho, you also knew he was playing it off as a joke on his own house, which made a joke inside a joke and you thought it was actually kind of funny. 

You took a deep breath and walked over to your bed. There were all sorts of gifts prompted there and you decided to unwrap Minho’s first. There was a small, green snake plushie with a bow on it that had a small pendant with something written on it:  “From the snakes that love you dearly,” and then it had the names of all of your Slytherin friends: Minho, Comet, Nox, Reggie, and even some you weren’t expecting like Dorcas and Solacis. You thought it was an adorable little thing, even if –and you were certain of this– your friends would absolutely hate it. Well, not Lily, she’d also think it was adorable. 

And thinking of her, was that you picked the next gift, wrapped in pink and yellow paper, and with her a small dedicatory on the corner, you instantly knew it was from her, her neat and perfect handwriting being the dеad giveaway. You smile as you read her small dedication. She wished you a very, merry Christmas and promised to tell you everything about the train with James as soon as you saw each other in person. She wrote something along the lines of not being able to put it on paper, which made you laugh. 

When you opened the present you were thrilled, it was a small leather notebook, dark red with golden trims and your name on the cover. Not Vixen, not Starshine, or any of the other nicknames that you had come to own and love since you arrived at Hogwarts, but your name. You smiled as you traced your fingers over the letters. There was a pen on the side, golden and apparently of some interesting muggle technology that wasn’t that popular in the wizarding world. You thought it was fascinating. When you opened the notebook you realised there was something written, again in her handwriting. 

You’ve had more adventures this year than I’ve had in my lifetime. I think it’s time for you to start writing down some of them, in case you ever want to revisit them. If journaling is not your thing (which I feel like it would be because I know you), you can just use this notebook however you want. You know grocery lists, songs for mixtapes, your favourite lyrics, poems, quotes, Sirius’ doodles, your doodles,  dried flowers, stickers, whatever you want, it’s your space, and you may use it as you wish! Love, Lily

You thought the idea of having your own journal was brilliant, you always admired her for keeping hers so incredibly neat looking, and perhaps being able to let some of your feelings go on a blank page would be better than keeping them bottled up. You doubted you would be nearly as consistent as her, but you decided to add your first couple of words in there, detailing the gifts you’d gotten and the few you still had yet to open. 

You’d gotten a box of your favourite candies from Mary and some incredible quidditch trading cards from Marlene, but she had also added some makeup to her gift because if not you and James would have gotten the exact same thing and you were her favourite between the two. You got a spellbook and a muggle prank book from Tom “to further your career” according to him. There was a large, embossed book from Nina, which you discovered was an annotated version of one of your favourite books and a small set of runes from Sybil. You had gotten her a deck of cards and a book about premonitions. 

There were candies from Nox and a muggle book lantern from Neil Perry, you had both complained at some point about reading with your wand and you thought the solution he’d found was adorable. Peter had gotten you a book about canines, packed along with a small fox-themed bookmarker and a note that said “Thank you for not busting my make-out session and Merry Christmas.” He also added, “PS. maybe with this one you’ll be able to tame Pads.” Which had you wheezing with laughter for a while. 

It took at least a minute to go for the next gift, it was a small box that said to be handled carefully. You opened it according to the instructions. “Shut the fuck up!” you said the moment you realized what was inside. A small Felix Felicis vial. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you repeated over and over again. “How did he even get his hands on it?” 

You picked up the paper from behind it, there was a small note. 

Okay say it: aside from Sirius, I AM your favourite Marauder.  You might be wondering, “How the hell did James get his hands on this?”. Well dear, I must say, I have contacts.  AKA my parents are expert potioneers and I somehow convinced Mum to brew one and that’s how I got my hands on it.  Now, I could have given it to any of my friends but I get the feeling you might be needing some of this soon enough. You know, from things I’ve seen and such (please don’t waste it on a quidditch match, though). Anyway, I know you’ll use it well, hope you have a very Merry Christmas!  Your favourite marauder AND bestest friend,  Prongs. 

You chuckled when you finished reading and went back to look at the vial with incredulity. Brewing one of these potions was arduous work, and it took weeks, which meant James must have had convinced Effie to do it even before she’d met you. Never underestimate James Potter, you thought as you grabbed onto the vial and placed it around your neck with a chain, casting a disillusionment charm on it so it wouldn’t be so obvious you had it with you. You thought the gift was brilliant. 

After that, there were only 2 gifts left. You picked the one with a silver bow first. It was a square box, about 12” wide, and had been wrapped in the same paper as James’, which made you guess who it might be from. There were chocolates and a small letter on top, neatly closed and with your name written on the back with Sirius’ almost perfect calligraphy. There was also a paper covering something, but you picked the letter up first. 

You know, I tried writing a love letter, but James wouldn’t stop making ridiculous comments about it not being profound enough and I feared I’d end up writing something close to the painfully ridiculous letters he used to write to Lily so I had to stop myself.  Who would have thought it would be that hard to put thoughts into words? I suppose if I were like Remus it would come out much easier but, unfortunately, you’re stuck with me. Actually no, fortunately you’re stuck with me, I’m delightful.

You laughed, he’s not wrong. 

Anyway, I suppose what I wanted to express in those dreadful attempts of being a poet was that I’m incredibly thankful that you came to Hogwarts and that you came back to me. I’m grateful that you tolerate me and my moods and that you love me for who I am, flaws and all. I wasn’t sure I’d ever found that kind of love, one that I even doubted it existed, and yet you’re always there to tease and make me laugh and– I already sound like James, but you know what I mean. You always know what I mean.  As you see, I am far from a poet, but there is something I like to do and I thought that perhaps, you’d enjoy it more than this terrible love letter.  You know, you and Remus were the first to ever see a sketch from my book, and I was feeling all sorts of things after I offered, and yet, you were there, reassuring me and telling me I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to. You know Walburga, it wasn’t much of a choice for me, so it truly meant the world, and fed me the courage I needed to let you see that part of me. And when you two finally saw it and praised me for my skills, for what I did with my own hands… You make me so incredibly gleeful, it’s almost scary how much power you could hold over me. But frankly, I’ll let you hold it all you want.  All right, enough of the sappy stuff, Merry Christmas Starshine, you know you shine brighter than my own star. Hope you like your gift.  Love,  Sirius 

See the letter here

You read the letter a few more times, smiling at the little details and jokes Sirius had sprinkled all over. And then you pulled on the bit of tissue paper covering the very last thing in the box and when you finally saw its content you couldn’t help but swear again, “Son of a bitch!” you whispered. 

There were still some small pieces of paper over the small portrait, and you carefully brushed them out to be able to lift it from the box. The image was a hand-drawn portrait of you. You had a big smile and were looking at what would be the camera if it were an image. It looked like it might have been from one of the pictures from Marlene’s party although Sirius had changed the outfit, you were wearing an oversized sweater and his leather jacket. You could tell it was his because it had one of the enamel pins you had gotten him as a gift on the lapel. 

There were touches of colours in the strokes, not quite painting the drawing but rather giving it relatively bright edges that made it look special, unlike any other doodle. And of course, he had framed it, it was a simple yet elegant frame, dark oak and with small carved details on the sides. On the left bottom corner of the drawing, there was something written in French: 

À l'étoile la plus brillante.  Amour, 

And then, instead of his name, he signed with a small and elegant star doodle. You smiled again, it was one of the loveliest things you’d ever gotten, even if it was a portrait of yourself, the fact that Sirius had been the one to draw it, made it the most special of things. There were portraits upon portraits of you in your house, with magic that allowed you to move and smile, and even talk sometimes, but none of them held as much value as the frozen drawing Sirius had given you. 

Eventually, you placed it on your night table and picked up the last gift still sitting in your bed. His box was smaller than Sirius’, about the size of a book, which had you assumed he had gotten you something along the lines of that. 

You opened the book and found a small, pocket-sized book. It was a Sreath Bàrdachd, according to the golden script at the top. You hadn’t quite realised as you pulled it from the box, but it was handmade. You looked at it in shock as you flipped to the 50+ pages, all in carefully and methodically written cursive, his handwriting. 

Later you realised it was something between a book of poems and a compilation of quotes from different books. You admired the booklet for a few more minutes when you spotted that there was a small letter, still waiting for you inside the box. You pulled it off and broke the seal with a small sword letter opener Nox had given you as a gift. 

As you did, a small chain fell from the letter and you picked it up. It was small and dainty, just long enough to wrap around your wrist, which made you wonder how he’d guessed the size. The chain was simple, and it broke off into two different sections, one with a small crescent moon and then another one with a small star. It also had one small gemstone in between the bigger charms. You looked at it with a smile and held it in your hand as you read the letter. 

Hey there, Little Witch,  Hope you’re having an incredible Christmas. By the time you read this, you’ve probably seen the Sreath Bàrdachd, and knowing how clever you are, you probably already know what that could mean. Yes, It’s a book of poems, but also a bit more than that.  I knew Sirius was making you that incredible gift of his, and I didn’t want to fall behind. Prongs didn’t tell us what he got you but he seemed pretty confident he’d have the best gift of all. Did he?  Never mind, don’t tell me, it’s a silly competition. Either way, I thought you might like having one of these. Mum used to have one, which is why I know they exist. She told me a good friend gave it to her and she has kept it ever since then. I remembered borrowing it from her once when I was little, and she taught me how to carefully flip through the pages as she read to me. She also mentioned it was a silly girl’s thing but I thought it was amazing, and went on to make my own.  Although wonky and, with quotes from children’s books, she thought I was quite a mastermind for making it by myself. Of course, I put a lot more effort into the one you have with you now. Or perhaps the same effort but with better skills. If you’ve flipped through the pages, which I assume you have, since you’re incredibly curious, you’ve probably seen some familiar quotes.  There’s stuff from books we’ve both read and stuff that only I have read but that I thought you might like. Some of my favourite poems too, and some quotes from movies that only you’d be able to get. There are even lyrics from songs, some that we really like, some that Sirius has heard so many times that I already knew them by memory, and since the two of you like similar music, I assumed you’d know them too.  Also, there’s a small bracelet in the letter. I’ve cross-charmed it, in case you ever lose the Sreath Bàrdachd (I truly hope you never do), the gemstone will shine as you approach it. I’ve also added a few luck charms that, while they won’t keep you away from trouble –I don’t think anything could– they may give you some luck while navigating it.  Don’t hit me for saying that, you know it’s true.  Love,  Moony.  PS. Prongs told me about your little quarrel with Sirius on the platform, Sirius definitely misses you more.

See the letter here

By the time you finished Remus’ letter, you were smiling as brightly as you had when you read Sirius’. You were so lucky you had found such incredible people in Hogwarts. Your bedsheets filled with torn wrapping paper were a testament to that. You spend the rest of the afternoon listening to some more music and reading through the book Remus had made. 

He had been especially careful with his handwriting which you thought was adorable, and there were a lot of quotes from Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Grey. He had written in pencil –so you could erase it if you wanted, not that you would– that it was your fault he was obsessed with his writing now. Taking poems and quotations from both, the book aforementioned and The Ghost of Canterville. You hadn’t read the latter yet, but you were almost counting the days to go back to school and ask him to lend you his copy. 

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and you had to leave the warm comfort of reading and listening to music in favour of changing into the clothes your mom had chosen for you. You sighed as the alarm clock you’d set earlier went off, and then went straight towards your closet. The dress she had picked was simple, yet elegant. It wasn’t a long dress like the one she’d probably wear, but a more youthful one with clever intricate details on the sleeves and a midi skirt.  

“Thank god it has sleeves,” you whispered to yourself as you pulled the edge of the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt up. While your skin looked almost smooth, the lighter (almost silvery) shapes where the new skin was growing over the gush Moony had made were pretty evident. You supposed makeup and a spell could make them less visible, at least for a while, but that would have probably taken you a lot more time to achieve. 

You plopped the black dress on, smoothing the sides as walking towards your vanity where your mum had left all the potions and make-up. You sighed, remembering how much more fun it had been to dress for the Gryffindor parties than it was to dress for this one. With the black dress and the pearls on your neck, you felt a lot more like you were about to walk into a funeral rather than a party. My own funeral, you thought with a laugh when you remembered whose house you’d actually be going to. 

You grabbed a pair of red, not-too-high heels, put them on, and took another look in the large mirror by the window. You looked lovely, at least there would be no complaints from your parents on that aspect. What they might complain about was the fact that you took a bag with an undetectable extension charm and filled it with a few of the books you’d gotten as a Christmas gift. You also took the journal Lily had given you and Remus’ Sreath Bàrdachd. And you weren’t sure who’d be attending that party but you sure hoped you’d be able to sneak into a corner and read a book rather than having to interact with some of the most disagreeable friends of your parents. 

“Sweetheart, are you ready?” your mom asked from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, coming,” you said as you grabbed a few more trinkets and dumped them in your bag, just in case. 

You were about to leave the room when you saw a small glistening thing in your bed and you went straight to grab it. It was the bracelet Remus had given you, and even if it took you a while to put it on, and you continued looking between your wrist and the door as you tried to get the clasp to do its job, you thought it was worth it. I could really use that extra luck. You thought. You accommodated the necklace Sirius had given you and that you never took off and then took off James’ potion and placed it on your bag since it might be safer there than around your neck. 

One last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order and you walked out towards the living room. 

“You look delightful, darling,” your father said as he spotted you walking out of the room. 

You gave him a half shrug in response and then managed to mutter a “thanks” that you hoped didn’t sound as bitter as it felt. After another moment of silence, your mom grabbed her bag and finished clipping on one of her earrings. 

“We’ll take the floo?” you asked. 

Your father shook his head, “They’ve sent over a Portkey,” your mom explained and motioned to the table, there was a small, fancy-looking invitation right in the middle. 

“Nice,” you said as you used your wand to levitate the object and move it right in between your parents. Perhaps if it had been floo, you could have sneakily said James’ address instead of Evan’s and escaped the party altogether. Once there, your parents wouldn’t make a fuss about it in order to not make your insubordination evident. But of course, you weren’t that lucky, and you’d have to take the portkey and you’d have to go to the party. 

“In three,” your father said as he moved his hand towards the invitation, “two… one… go.” 

The three of you placed your hands on the invitation at the same time and you felt the very familiar pull on your lower back, in less than a second, the entire world distorted around you, and then, you weren’t in your house anymore.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Aww that was so cute wasn't it? Now it's time to strap on, we're about to dive head-first into the darkest side of the story, and it's going to be fun and sad and just a rollercoaster of emotions in general. Love, Lils xx

Read more Marauders Fiction

[dangerkittenclaws]

Are your requests still open? I’d love a fic where the (AFAB) reader is in a situation where she’s forced to share a bed with Vessel (maybe she’s a musician who’s touring with ST and the hotel is short on rooms? lol I know it’s super cliche) and in the middle of the night he wakes her up by initiating sex? 🥰

This was so fun to write, thank you!! And thank you for being my first request/ask, I'll never forget it! Sorry it took me a hot second to finish. To be honest, I feel I got a tad carried away but I hope I did our lean bean of a man justice! <3

vessel x f!band!reader

warnings: smut MDNI +18

You were waiting in the lobby of the hotel your tour agent had booked, spinning your luggage case lazily by its extended handle. The staff had been frantic as your large group entered the building.

 IV was at the counter talking to the man who was clicking desperately at his computer. Something clearly was wrong with the reservation, but you were so tired that you really didn't care, you just wanted to slide into a cozy bed and sleep like the dead. It had been a long day, not including the show tonight and piling into a van afterwards. 

Two of your best friends and bandmates, Alexis and Maggie were sitting on one of the lobby couches quietly showing memes to II. Vessel, III, and Liv, your bassist, were sitting on the bench right next to them. You all had gotten to know each other fairly well considering you inhabited a bus for numerous hours, watched each other practice, and went out to eat together. 

You had noticed Vessel staring at times the past few weeks. You didn’t particularly mind the man was checking you out, it felt good to be wanted in a genuine way. You were not opposed to something new. You had become aware of him giving you glances that were a few seconds too long, a hand grazing just a little slower, him waiting for you so he could walk with you to wherever you were going. 

And the teasing and bickering, god, it never ended. You didn't expect any different, being in close quarters with four boys and your three raunchy best friends, it was a constant war. You didn't quite know how to navigate these waters with Vessel though, it had been quite a while since your last boyfriend.

Your attention was brought back by IV walking back over to where you stood, a grimace on his face.

“Something happened to their booking system, they’re overbooked and we're going to have to share rooms until tomorrow.” 

Some sort of seniority took over his voice, “Maggie, Alexis, Liv you can share the two-queen room, II, III, and I will share the other. That leaves you and Ves with the last king room”, he said pointing between you and Vessel. 

Your eyes could’ve popped out of your head at that moment, but you schooled your expression hopefully before anyone noticed. You looked over to your bandmates and saw how Liv wanted to protest, but closed her mouth before she could say anything, knowing it was futile and everyone was too exhausted to care. It was nearing 3am and you were only spending two nights here before traveling again. 

Vessel's eyes instantly shot towards yours, a small smirk forming on his lips, his arms crossed over his chest. Those lips. 

“I guess it's you and me, then, love.” He gets up, standing to his full height before grabbing his duffel bag from beside him. The rest of the group rises and gathers their things, IV giving out key cards in silence. 

You look at your girls, bidding them goodnight with a small wave and suddenly your hands are empty. Vessel had taken it upon himself to steal your suitcase and start walking towards the elevators. 

Startled, Maggie giggles behind you at your expression. Breath leaves your mouth in a sort of sigh and laugh, and your tired legs begin to move in his direction. He is already in the elevator, keeping the door open for you. 

“Damn your long legs.” 

He turns to you once the doors shut, “I hope you have a little bit of energy left in you,” 

You look at him confused, “What do you mean?” You know what kind of tone he has, a playful, flirtatious one that makes you blush. 

“I guess you'll just have to find out, won't you?” the doors open to the new floor and he darts out, immediately walking in long strides and searching for the correct door. You try to keep up, watching him try the key card on the fifth door down the hall and entering. You walk into the blackness of the room knowing he's just in front of you. He nearly giggles as he turns on the bedside lamp and watches your face scrunch up at the sudden light. 

“You could at least warn a girl,” you yawn. Just as described, there is one large plushy looking king bed in the center of the room, a tv mounted to the wall, a little breakfast counter, and a door ajar on the other side, the bathroom. 

Vessel drops both of your bags at the end of the bed, “Okay, me first, I need a shower.” he announces. You scoff and nod anyway, both of you taking out your pajamas and toiletries you'll need to set them aside. 

Vessel puts his hand on your hip from behind you, the boldest move he’s made yet, “I’ll be quick” is all he whispers near your ear. The warmth of his hand lingers on you even though you hear the door shut. You finally breathe again, you had stood frozen for too long. Is this really happening? 

You finally search out the TV remote, finding some mind-numbing home renovation show. You watch a few minutes, zoning out entirely, before the knob of the door twists and you turn your head. Your eyebrows raise at the sight before you. 

He is a little damp, clothes in hand, the last few water droplets running down his lean torso, hair scruffy from the towel dry he did before wrapping it lowly around his waist. You almost drool before looking back up to his eyes. 

“My eyes are up here, darlin,” he smirks. You feel your entire being light up red hot before you want to implode for getting caught staring at the very… enticing area that he is putting on display. It's not like he wears those pants for no reason at shows, it leaves little to your imagination and he knows it. 

You jump up with your head down, grabbing your things and dipping into the bathroom without another word. You shower hot, needing an excuse to be as pink as you were with that fine man that you had been roomed with. Your pajamas were just an oversized Sleep Token shirt and a short pair of plaid shorts. 

After scrubbing the day off of you, you change into your pajamas before your hand hesitates at the knob. You breathe out. We are just sleeping. We aren’t even anything yet. Why am I being so dramatic about this? 

You summon all of your courage to open the door and look out to see Vessel in bed, scrolling his phone, the room only illuminated by the TV. You put your leftover toiletries and laundry on top of your bag before plugging in your phone and pulling back the covers on the other side.

Vessel looks over to you, “Come here, love”, opening his arms to you. You snuggle into his side and onto his chest, as his hand rubs up and down your back. You involuntarily let out a little sigh of relief, finally you can rest. You fall asleep like that, him holding you close and warm. 

You wake up a few hours later, having turned to your side in your sleep, one of his still around your middle and the other under your neck. 

You move slightly and become aware of something pressed against your ass. You immediately hold your breath.

You slowly breathe out, and try to inch yourself away. His arm tightens around you. Oh shit, he’s awake. 

Like he reads your nervousness, he starts to kiss along the back of your neck to the side, underneath your ear. You shiver at his warm breath. 

“Hmm, I'm sorry, I just couldn't help it with your ass backed up to me darling.” You smile and blush at his words, knowing the effect you have on him. He grinds a bit into you as his hand slowly moves towards the waistband of your shorts. 

You realize your shirt had bunched up just below your tits just as his other hand reaches up and runs through your hair, long fingers pulling just enough for your head to move back. You turn to your back when he easily grazes over your clit and you clench your thighs together. Vessel gives you a little growl in your ear and your thighs cave open as quick as your resolve. 

“I've wanted you for so long, sweet thing, and I've got you all to myself now.” His fingers move in slow, small circles over your clit and your hands go to his bicep, grabbing at him for more. You let out a small moan as you lose yourself in the feeling of warmth of both of his hands touching your body and the building starry sensation in your belly. 

You reach down towards his stomach, caressing down, trying to burn the feeling of his skin into your mind before coming into contact with the curls of his hair. You hesitate slightly and he quickly attacks your lips, like he's reading your mind again. 

You continue on to wrap your hands around his long, hard dick and begin tugging on it. He smiles against your neck and brings his other hand up under your shirt to massage your tit before pulling your nipple taut and thumbing over the hard bud forming. He does the same with the other while his fingers work their way into your wet cunt, one slender finger at a time. 

You are getting impatient now, kissing his lips and neck, sucking his soft skin into your mouth to leave your mark. He lets out a whimper before seemingly regaining control of himself. Noted for future reference. 

He slides down your body in a quick moment before licking up your slick cunt, making you nearly cry out. He tongues your entrance before making his way up to your clit and practically latches on. You claw at the bed sheets beneath you eventually finding his grown out hair to pull. You don't know if you want him to stop or if you want more, this is so much better than your own fingers. You buck up into his mouth and he locks his arm around your thighs to keep you from squirming away. That feeling in your stomach is burning. 

He makes a few deliberate swipes of his tongue in succession over your clit and he watches that you come undone beneath him. Your eyes roll back, your hips tighten, and you gasp out his name. He keeps his tongue flat against you, tasting your cum before coming up to kiss you. 

The moment you taste yourself on him is the moment you feel him press against your swollen pussy. You moan into the kiss, wanting more of him. He grabs himself to properly press his dick into you. He does it slowly, making sure you savor every inch. 

“Please, please, Vessel, please”, you beg him. 

“Please what, kitten?”, that slow devilish smirk comes back with a vengeance on his wet lips. 

“Please fuck me, I need you to fuck me.” You mumble out, embarrassed but full of anticipation. 

He thrusts into you fully, making both of you moan out curses. Ves sets a pretty quick pace but makes sure to hit the one spot inside you that makes your pussy tighten around him on every pass. He bottoms out, touching the beginning of your cervix and you see his eyes roll back. 

“God, you are better than I ever imagined.'' He reaches his hand down between the both of you to play with your clit again. This time though, your orgasm is quick to approach with him inside of you. His fingers move swiftly as you grind yourself down onto his cock to meet his every thrust. 

You are scratching down his back trying to find purchase with how full he makes you feel. Soon enough, the pool of white hot in your belly is overflowing again and he changes the angle just slightly, fucking you through your orgasm. You moan out knowing your pussy is clenching around his dick in a vice grip. Just as you cum around him, he settles deep within you and his fingers dig into your hips. His thick ropes of cum spill into you and he pulls out to leave your cunt messy. 

You open your eyes half-lidded after a moment, trying to catch your breath, “Jesus, did you… did you plan that all along?!” 

He smiles wide at you, “Which part, the room sharing or the me-getting-you-to-myself?” 

“Either?” 

“The rooms being short just happened to play into my favor, but I was plotting to get you alone this weekend, my sweet kitten.” He pecks your lips before moving to the bathroom to get a warm towel for you both. 

You sigh out as you watch him, “I didn’t know what I was missing out on, really.” 

You hear his sweet laugh as he comes back in, gently running the towel over your pussy, cleaning you up. You squirm a bit but are easily distracted by the kisses he leaves on your inner thigh. You let out a small yelp when you feel teeth graze and a quick nip before he pulls away. 

He slides in next to you again, pulling you close, “If I have it my way, you’ll be mine forever.” 

“I’d really like that,” you murmured against his chest. You feel him press his lips to the top of your head before you fall back into a satisfied dreamless sleep.

[wol-fica]

-𝕌𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕-

pairings - wednesday x gn!reader

summary - Wednesday comes to you for advice and guidance with her stalker problem, and finally confesses

warnings - kissing, slight make out, fluff, kinda investigation, wednesday is so hot omg

————

It was a peaceful night at Nevermore Academy, not a sound could be heard, except for up in Apollo Hall. The soft ‘swoosh’ of a broom across wooden floors filled the large space as I did the weekly clean of my dorm. 

I lived alone, well technically not, as I did have a roommate, but they never stayed here or even bothered to show up at the beginning of the semester, so I assumed that the dorm was mine for the taking. Maximus, my dorm parent, had said that he didn’t mind me having it to myself, but I needed to uphold the promise of keeping it in order just in case a new student comes along. 

So here I was, ridding the space of all dust and grime. The faint sound of laughter flowed through my open window, probably coming from down in the quad. There was a late night party for the students who participated in the repair of the school, which was basically everyone. I was invited, but I’d rather be alone with my books than get drunk with the crowd. Everyone was down to do drugs and chug alcohol, which is why I was incredibly surprised to hear a swift knock at my door.

“Coming!” I called, placing the broom back into my supply closet before heading to the door. I opened it, only to be met with someone I would never expect to be at my doorstep. 

Wednesday Addams, gloomy and attractive as always. 

See, Wednesday and I have only interacted twice, so I was confused why she would be here at my door. The first time we met was at Eugene’s shed; I had gone there to get a jar of honey for my baking escapades, and Wednesday was there looming over a book of some sort. I had said hello, but all I received was a look and a nod. 

The second time was with Enid; I was in their dorm helping her decorate a large poster board for her project on giant hawks when Wednesday arrived back from Hummers club. We made eye contact for a solid two-and-a-half seconds before she greeted Enid and went straight to her typewriter. 

So for her to be standing in my doorway, arms full of papers and a black display board while her face looked bland as ever, was quite a shock to me.

“Wednesday, Hi.” I said, probably looking like an idiot.

Her eyes scanned my face before trailing down to the black apron I wore for cleaning. Instantly, my skin went red from embarrassment, and I scrambled to take it off.

“Sorry, I was in the middle of sweeping when you knocked.” 

“That is fine, having a neat room shows me that you are at least cleaner than most.” Wednesday said, her voice a bit less monotonous than usual. “Can I enter?”

“I…of course!” I stammered, stepping aside so she could walk in.

I shut the door behind her, locked it, and turned to see her inspecting my walls. She moved around the room quite fast, her hand tracing along the ancient wood. Once she seemed satisfied, she placed her things on my bed and got to work setting up her display board. 

“Uh, can I help with anything…?” I asked, sliding closer to see what she had.

She shook her head no and grabbed her papers to pin them up on the black panel, which is where I realized they were in fact photos of her. All of them were inconsistent, some with her by herself, others while she was with Enid or Xavier. 

“Wednesday what-” 

She slapped her hand to my mouth, glaring her dark eyes at me. “Be patient, you will see what I'm getting at.”

I obliged, keeping my eyes on Wednesday as she finished pinning the last of her photos. Once she was satisfied, she clasped my hand and pulled me back to see the full product. Red string trailed from each photo to a paper, which led to the center, a dark blurry figure. 

We stared at it for a moment, basking in the silence. In our pause, I registered her hand in mine. Her skin was cold, but not in a repulsive way, it was more refreshing than uncomfortable. I was surprised, especially when her thumb gently traced the back of my hand. 

“So, what am I looking at?” I asked, breaking the silence. 

She went forward to inspect her work more closely, her hand sliding out of mine in the process. An empty feeling filled the air but I ignored it out of respect.

“Wednesday?” I asked again, coming up next to her.

“It seems that I have acquired a stalker.” She murmured, scratching her chin.

“I see that, but why did you come here?” 

“Because I needed a consult.”

“What’s wrong with Enid? Xavier?” 

Wednesday’s dark eyes snapped to mine, a glare clouding her face. She stared at me for a good few seconds before looking back at her board.

“Because of that picture.” She stated, pointing at one of her laying on her colorless bed, “I care for Enid and Xavier greatly, but this makes me paranoid.”

I nod, understanding her view, “How would they get a picture of you in your room?” 

“A good question, but I'm not sure about the answer.”

“I see.”

Silence, again; Wednesday really likes to analyze, so I used this time to admire her. 

One thing about her that I always found interesting about her was her face. While most people would say she is bland and psychotic, I fully disagree. She has always had this effect on me that I couldn’t quite pinpoint until now.  

When we would pass in the hallway, I would get giddy and nervous, but as soon as she was gone those feelings diminished. We sit with each other in Creepy Creatures class, and I always get so scared to mess up on a test or choose dumb answers for homework in fear of repulsing her.

“Y/N.” 

Wednesday’s voice snapped me out of my daydreaming, causing me to look down to her. Her dark, well-trained eyes searched my Y/E/C ones with curiosity.

“What were you doing?” She asked, peering up at me.

“Nothing! Just thinking about stuff.”

She hummed slowly, still staring at me. “Stuff.”

I nodded sheepishly and smiled, giving a tense shrug. 

“Anyways, I had asked if you had any theories on who my despicable stalker could be.”

I thought for a moment, multiple possibilities filling my brain.

“Old family member?” I suggested.

Wednesday studied my face as she seemed to ponder about what I said. “Elaborate.”

I cleared my throat. “Distant relative. Has an issue with your family or you yourself. They want to scare you by taking stalkerish photos of you?”

“No, too easy.”

“How about a current student? Someone who is jealous of you and is trying to distract you from things about to happen?”

She pursed her lip at that one. “Maybe”

“Ooh! Or an old foe!” I said, now being very interested in the issue. “Someone you crossed and maybe have beaten in the past, they are back to scare you!”

I turned to see her slightly grinning at me, her eyes watching my every move. My face heated up and I giggled, scratching the back of my neck.

“Sorry, I love mysteries.”

Wednesday shook her head slightly, giving me an ever so small smirk. “That’s okay, investigating is cute on you.”

“Really?” I said, a blush covering my cheeks.

“Yes, it's terribly annoying.”

“Sorry.”

She scoffed, shaking her head; her eyes met mine with a fiery glaze. She was studying me again, taking in my features so they would have an imprint in her brain. I learned that Wednesday would do that so she could remember who she saw in a day in case of an unfortunate event happening. 

“You are incredibly naive.” Wednesday said, tracing her fingers across a photo of her and I in botany class.

I cocked my head to the side in confusion. What did that mean? Was I supposed to pick up on something? Did she ask me another question? 

“What do you mean?” I asked with caution.

Her shoulders dropped as her head drooped sadly. Cringing a slight bit, I backed away in fear that I said something wrong. 

“I keep throwing signals in your direction but you are to blind to see my attempts; unless I’m just bad at flirting.”

I looked stupid, very stupid. My mouth was hanging open while my eyes squinted in thought. 

“You…have a thing for me? Like a crush?” 

“Yes, I have gained an attraction to you.” She said, watching for my reaction.

“Oh.” 

“Are you disappointed?”

“What? No.”

“Then angry.”

“Wednesday, wait.” I said, shushing her before she started assuming the worst.

She stared, her eyes never leaving mine. Our gaze seemed to create a thin spark between us as we had a silent conversation through facial expressions. My thoughts took a pause when I saw her dark orbs flicker down to my lips, her own parting slightly.

“Can…can I kiss you Y/N?” Wednesday asked tentatively whilst rocking on her feet.

I smiled, reaching out to grab her hands.

“Call me Y/N/N.” 

And with that, our lips met in a fiery blaze. Her’s were soft and delicate, yet surprisingly delicious. She tasted sweet like lemonade but with a hint of mint. My hands traveled down to her waist, pulling her closer to me so I could kiss her more properly. 

We broke for air, but she dove right back in with a ferocious demeanor. I felt the prodding of her tongue begging for access into my mouth, which I happily accepted. As soon as she got clearance, she set to work exploring every crevice with curiosity. The way her tongue would slide against mine created a bubbly feeling in my stomach, which only grew when she decided to cup my face.

I pulled back, a string of spit dangled between us. Giggling, I wiped it away and planted a soft peck to her cheek.

“Now I can brag that I made out with Wednesday Addams.” I snickered, burying my nose into her neck.

Suddenly, a sharp jab of a fist collided with my stomach, causing me to clutch it in discomfort.

“Tell anyone and I will rip you off at your mid-section.” She stated before pulling me into her for a tight hug.

——————

i do not give permission for anyone to repost on any platform

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

⋆ ₊☽˚𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼˚☾₊ ⋆ 

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : you and coryo had gone through hell and back, you've been together and far apart yet you could never find the courage to say how you truly feel for him. so, you wrote them into letter form, but you never sent them. and so what happens when one mr. snow finds each and every letter only to realize that it's too late?

𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 : written in letter form from the readers perspective, talks of jealousy and sad feelings, r is definitely from the capitol

𝓪/𝓷 : tbh, i have SO many other things i should be writing but this idea popped into my head and so i've been writing it when i have time in between classes and other stuff so here ya go, hope you enjoy!

𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽

⋆ ₊ ☽ ·˚𓍲⋆ 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮: 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓸𝓻 ⋆𓍲˚· ☾ ₊ ⋆ 

Dearest Coryo,

Congratulations on making the top twenty! I am so proud of you darling! 

After everything that we’ve been through, you deserve it. I am sure that the Plinth Prize will find its way home into your hands so you can pay off your family's debts and so you can finally take me out on a proper date.

I know that I will be there in person to congratulate you at the reaping ceremony but I just wanted you to know that no matter what, I will be cheering you on from the side lines. 

You know, the first letter I ever wrote for you was way back when we were kids during the war, right? 

Me and my family had just fled to our safe house in the mountains and I was wondering how you and your family were doing. Then of course, news of your fathers murder spread even into our small cabin in the middle of nowhere. Of course, my first instinct was to pull out parchment and a pen and just write, write, write. 

And write, write, write I did. I somehow ended up writing 30 pages of parchment front and back recounting every single moment we had until that exact moment. From the first time we met at the tender age of three at a family dinner, to the first moment we played at the park together. Even now, I still remember the ache of my wrist after writing for nearly the entire afternoon. My mother even helped me bind the collection of letters into a book for you, do you remember that?

Or well, I suppose you don't see as I never sent the letters. Something in my chest just never let my hands grab the letters where they lay hidden in my room, underneath my bed. My heart never left those pages though, and as I write this letter I feel my heart once again pouring into every dotted i and crossed t. 

I have no doubt that this letter too will never see the light of day just as many other letters I have written over the years have. It is quite the affair after I finish a letter. I feel as though I have accomplished something by immortalizing my feelings and memories into these written pages of paper.

Anyways, I love you and I am just so proud of you my dearest Coryo.

Love, 

Your Biggest Admirer

Dearest Coryo,

I am so terribly sorry for you. My heart aches just knowing that you got so close to the Plinth prize only for Dean Highbottom to rip it out of your grasp and shred it into a million pieces right in front of your eyes.

And not to mention, the new mentorship you are expected to undertake, I mean do they not know who you are. 

Coriolanus Snow, the brightest, most intelligent, most caring, and most loving student at the Academy, a school known for the rich snobby kids who pay their way up to the top.

You’ve worked so hard to get to where you are today, even your cousin worked so hard just to help propel you to where you are now darling.

I believe that it is an utter disgrace to the Academy name to have students such as ourselves, though one could argue you are from another world entirely compared to us plebeians, to mentor district scum. Not to mention, they think it will be a challenge for you to tame that wild Lucy Gray Baird. 

Sure, you may get nervous but I know you will pull through. After all, Snow lands on top right?

Although, sometimes I wish that Snow would land on top of me. Oh to feel you hovering over me as you kiss me tenderly or passionately. To be honest I would take either of the two. 

It is quite ridiculous, and embarrassing really, how gorgeous you are. I often find myself staring at you from across the room. Your deep blue eyes focused on the assignment or task at hand, sometimes your eyebrows would pull together when you are concentrating on calculations or deep in thought. Your nose would scrunch, adorably, and your lips would forma tight line when you stumble across a particularly hard problem. 

But you never stop trying, it's why I love you. You’ve worked hard to reach where you are today, never bribing people with long winded promises or money. You always worked for what you got, even if you didn’t have to put in all your effort. 

The fact of the matter is that you’re brilliant Coryo. Even when we were young, I remember there was a time when we were playing hide-and-seek and you just knew me too well and found me within five seconds. 

And see that’s the thing, you remember. You always knew exactly what to say to make me laugh when I was crying, what to do when I was furious, and especially when I was sick, you’d bring me flowers and snacks while I lay too nauseous to even ask anyone for food. You truly know me too well.

Just like I know you. Or atleast, I like to think I know you better than say Clemensia. I know that you prefer tea over coffee in the mornings no matter how many espressos you drink with Felix. I know that you dislike strawberry shortcake no matter how many people rave about because you dislike cake. And I know that no matter how hard to try it, those bright blue eyes of yours can’t hide the hunger you have. 

Most importantly though, I know you hunger. Money, power, glory. You thirst for it and I just know that through this mentorship you will be satiated and heavy with happiness after. 

I will cheer you on, no matter what Coryo. 

Love,

Your Biggest Admirer

Dearest Coryo,

It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?

You’ve been quite busy though so I understand. You’ve really taken into this mentorship, haven’t you?

Not that I blame you, everything you’ve ever wanted is right within your grasp as long as you prove to Dr.Gaul and co. that you are deserving of the Plinth prize. But, that also means that you have to do everything you can to also prove Dean Highbottom wrong. 

Of course, that also means that we haven’t really been together in quite a while. 

Not that I mean it in that way it’s just, I miss my best friend sometimes you know. 

It’s been a blessing to have grown up with you. And to have found you after the war. You are after all, still my Coryo. 

But of course, because I know why you’ve been busy so I guess I’ll let it slide as long as you let me treat you, and Tigris and your Grandma’am, out to dinner when you win that prize. Once you solidify your future with me. 

Of course, not in that sense, but as in we can attend the University together and take this country by storm together. 

I’ve noticed that you and Lucy Gray have been quite close. It was sweet of her to not leave you for dead after that awful rebel bombing. 

Did you know I visited you in the hospital as soon as I heard? 

You were laying there, skin all sickly and sticky. There were tubes and stuff hooked up into you. The doctors said that they would help you heal quicker so of course I thought nothing of it. And now you are better. 

Me and Tigris never left your side in that hospital bed. Sometimes I wonder if you had heard all of my ramblings as I say there beside you in that dingy hospital. 

I wonder if you felt my hand as I stoked it back and forth waiting, pleading really, for you to wake up. 

I wonder if you felt my hands as I wiped the sweat off of your forehead and handsome face as I cried for you. 

I wonder how it felt for you when you woke up and I wasn’t there. You see, Gaul and Highbottom had asked me to step in your place to soothe wild Lucy Gray before she performed on stage. I’d like to think it was because they both knew how close we are. Or perhaps they thought it proper torture to remind me just how much you needed this win and how willing they were to keep you from it. 

Regardless, I still begged Lucy Gray to perform with a guitar from my family’s collection that had been requested by you. 

And I’m glad that we had a common shared interest, you. 

It may have been too much of a shared interest between you and her because I saw you two at the zoo tonight. I left before you two could notice me but the burning ache in my chest left a scar that wouldn’t heal. The way that you cradled her fear ridden face. The way that she tenderly took your hand as you wiped her tears away with your mother handkerchief.

Do you like her!??

But regardless you are my best friend and I just want you to be happy so I’ll pretend I never saw anything, promise. 

Anything for you, right?

Anyways, the Games are tomorrow and I hope the odds are ever in your favor Coryo.

Love, 

Your Biggest Admirer

Dearest Coryo,

You did it! That Plinth prize is as good as your darling. I'm so proud of you, I mean this is huge, it's your ticket into the presidency. Now, not even Dean Highbottom can catch you now. I hope you unleash your bitter fury onto all of those who doubted you and show them truly how Snow lands on top. Some people just seem to gossip as they please, talking about your too tight shoes and your tile buttons but none of them can take this win away from you Coryo.

Goodness, the way you lit up as you won. It kind of hurt though when you didn;t even spare me a second glance after you won. You and Tigris just looked so relieved and happy which made me happy for you. That all that mattered to me at that moment, you happiness. You smile that nearly lit up the entire Capitol. Of course, when you turned to look at me with those warm arms of yours open for me to jump into you, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.

And the feeling of you lifting me up, thanking me for supporting you through everything, kissing my cheek, I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with you Coryo. 

The feel of your lips against my cheek lit up a light in my chest that I thought I lost when I saw you and Lucy Gray in the zoo that night. 

I’m just glad that now that the games are over, we can forget this Lucy Gray and cleanse ourselves of the Games. She can go back home to 12 a hero and a leader and we can continue our lives as they were. 

Maybe we could even go out for a celebratory round of drinks, if you want.

Love,

Your Biggest Admirer

Dearest Coryo,

Where are you? 

After your win it’s like you’ve just up and disappeared. Tigris has been talking about an eviction and losing the penthouse. I thought that the Plinth prize was yours?

Even Highbottom hasn’t said anything about your whereabouts, or well not to me anyway. But even Sejanus said he knows. 

Coriolanus, I’m worried about you.

There have been rumors that you cheated in the Games and got exiled. I hope they aren’t true. I know you, you’d never cheat and destroy your chances at getting the money. Highbottom, no matter how much we hate him, had a point with making the punishment for cheating in the Games severe. There’s no way you would stake your entire family and your home for some District girl, right?

You hate cheaters yourself, remember that one time that we were playing a card game and I had hid some of the cards in my sleeve to ensure I won? You didn’t talk to me for three months. You hate how Clemensia always takes all the credit for your partner assignments when you know damn well that her wrist has never known ache like yours. You hate how Felix has never even had a meaningful conversation with any of the people at political dinners yet he had more support than you did amongst the rich and powerful. You even hate that Sejanus’ family had so much money from a war that we suffered from only to be inducted into the very society their people had been at odds with.

Sejanus told me that you had given Lucy Gray rat poison to kill the other tributes with. He even told me that you retrieved him from the arena, killing one of the tributes. And he said that you had been exiled to 8 to serve as a peacekeeper.

That can’t be true, it just can't, right? 

I mean, even if you had been sent to 8, you would’ve at least told me right? And Tigris would’ve told me and your Grandma’am would’ve surely written to my father with the news. 

Highbottom and Gaul must be mistaken right? There's just no way in my mind that a boy as smart and sweet as yourself would throw away everything for some District clown in a frilly dress. There is just no way that you would’ve manipulated Gaul into letting her into her lab just so you could sneak in and make sure Gaul’s hellish snakes wouldn’t sic Lucy Gray. There is just no way that you snuck her your mothers compact full of poison to use in the Games. And there is just no way that you killed a boy in the Arena saving Sejanus, there's just no way?

Right?

There is no way that you would leave me here to rot all by myself in the capitol without the one person who has ever mattered to me. 

Regardless, whenever you come out of whichever hole you are hiding in, I’ll be here, waiting for you to come home.

Love,

Your Biggest Admirer

this one was admittedly not as sad and its not too long but i hope you enjoyed! stay tuned for pt 2!

[xetlynn]

Imagines- Jasper Hale

Spoiled

Requested

I was walking in between Angela and Bella, my eyebrows furrowed as I think about my homework for Chem class that I still haven’t finished. Along with how Jessica asked to hang out later, completely forgetting that I was mid conversation with the two beside me.

“[Name], what do you think?” Angela taps my arm to which I slightly flinch at but then I look at her with a smile.

“What?” I tilt my head, confused by what she meant. I heard Bella snort a small laugh as Angela sighs, still with a smile on her face. “You weren’t paying attention again?” She questions, I glance around. My face becoming warm from the embarrassment.

“I was then I remembered I forgot to do my homework.” I sheepishly admit, holding my hands together in front of me. “It’s okay, [Name]. I was just asking what you thought about helping me take pictures for my project.” She repeats herself causing me to feel more guilty than before.

“Oh! Of course!” I nod my head, then the one minute bell goes off warning us to speed it up to our next class.

“Shoot, I passed my classroom.” I mentally curse after noticing the numbers on the doors were wrong from where I needed to be.

“I should’ve warned you.” Bella speaks up, I stop myself from continuing to walk, turning to her. “It’s okay! It’s my fault.” I grin, patting her shoulder.

“Okay, I gotta go!” I laugh, hurrying down the hall, the opposite of my friends. I heard Angela chuckle as well. I get into my classroom almost a second too late but fortunately I made it in time. I sit down beside my boyfriend, Jasper, kissing him on the lips quickly catching him off guard.

“Hi, my love.” I sing, getting my books out for not just this class but my Chem class as well since I gotta finish the homework before next period.

“Hey, darlin’.” He goes to smile at me but I see his face falter a bit at the site of my books. There’s loose papers in them, making it look messy and unorganized.

“You forgot your homework again?” He calls me out, my eyes widen and I shush him.

“Maybe, but it’s because last night I had so much to do. And I also kind of I guess… in your words forgot about it.” I sadly say, opening the book up, grabbing the loose leaf paper that only had one question answered.

“You were with me, darlin’. You barely did anything.” He reminds me to which I try to cover up my smile. “Right,” I laugh, kissing his cheek.

“You’re lucky the teacher said today is a free day so let’s focus on your homework now.” He cuts off my kisses, pulling my chair closer to him while also placing the paper in the middle of us so he can look at it.

As he reads over the paper I begin to admire his features. Notice his dimple becoming more and more prominent when he moves his mouth even a little bit.

“Sweetheart, you’re not focusing on your homework.” He tells me, not even looking me in the eyes.

“Right, sorry, love.” I turn my focus back to the paper.

Jasper explains everything to me in detail, sometimes repeated since I have a hard time understanding and well focusing.

“Sorry, Jas. I think I’m really starting to get it now!” I try to have a positive attitude, writing my second to last answer down. “You’re fine, darlin’. I know you have a hard time with this.” He assures me, rubbing my back. I smile to myself but then my hand stops moving and I stare at the page again.

My eyebrows furrow at the last question. “I feel like I’ve never seen this before.” I pout, wanting to rip the stupid paper up for making me look dumb in front of my boyfriend.

“It’s in your pretty little mind, [Name]. You just have too many things to remember.” He taps my head jokingly. I give an estranged smile in response that probably makes me look constipated. “Can you explain it once more?”

And he does… three more times. His patience is thicker than most that’s for sure but I eventually got it and got an A when I turned it in. All my work didn’t even matter!

And after school, Jasper and I decided to walk to his house since it was a nicer cloudy day than usual.

“And then I turned it in… and he gave me an automatic A for just turning it in!” I exasperate loudly, explaining with my hands. “And that’s a bad thing?” He quizzes. I gasp, turning to look at him.

“Of course it is! All our hard work! For nothing!” I shake his shoulder dramatically. He smirks at me, obviously trying not to laugh.

“It’s okay, laugh at your girlfriend for caring so…” As I was walking I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking and my foot went right onto a bigger rock that causing my ankle to twist.

I let out an almost inhuman sounding noise as I fell to the ground. Jasper was quick to react, I mean he’s a vampire I’m surprised he didn’t catch me before I actually hit the ground.

I hissed as I held my now painful ankle. “Are you alright?!” He asks, I shrug it off.

“It definitely hurts, but I’m okay.” I tell him, lifting myself up, being careful with my ankle but when I went to take my first step a pang shot through my leg and I leaned on my boyfriend so I wouldn’t fall.

“Definitely hurts.” I giggle to myself, silently grimacing from the pain. All of a sudden Jasper stands me up and then puts one of his arms behind my knees and then one on my mid-back.

“Jasper what- Oh!” He then picks me up. “Jasper what are you doing!” I laugh out. He’s already beginning to walk again.

“You can’t walk on it, it will get worse.” He tells me and I burst into a laughing fit.

“Love, I’m okay. It’s just a twisted ankle!” I grin at him as he continues to carry me. “You could barely stand up.” He disagrees with me.

“I just got to toughen it out, hun.” I lift my left arm that was smushed between our body’s and wrap it around his shoulders. “Not while I’m around.” He shakes his head.

“It makes me feel so spoiled.” I frown, dramatically throwing my head back.

“You are spoiled.” He mutters and I gasp. “Am not!” I slap his chest, he chuckles at my response, “are too, darlin’.” He kisses the temple of my head.

“What ever.” I roll my eyes, now just watching him as he walks us to his house.

He even got Carlisle to check on my ankle which wasn’t necessary because all it was, is a sprained ankle.

I’ve had plenty of them! But Jasper thinks I’m some fragile doll and decided to carry me the whole day or whenever he could. Even the others were telling him he was too worried about something so small. He ignored them though so it didn’t even matter.

I went to get up from the couch, it being the next day after I sprained my ankle. Not even seconds later is he trying to pick me up.

“Jasper,” I place a hand on his chest. “I have to use the bathroom.” I get up on my own.

“So?” He still picks me up and I squeal not expecting how fast he was going to do it.

“Babe!” I laugh. “I can go to the bathroom on my own!” I tell him but he insists on carrying me the whole way.

“I’ll be here for when you get out, m’lady.” He kisses my hand and I shake my head.

“I might hide in here for the rest of the night, sir.” I pull him in for a kiss before pushing him away and shutting the door.

Twilight Imagine M.L.

Master list

Requested by: @northerngalxy

[jimblejamblewritings]

starlight moonlight sunlight — blurb one

Series Summary: Remus has a choice to make: his new boyfriend Sirius or his recently no longer ex girlfriend, Y/N. But when Y/N's world begins crumbling, Remus wants to be there for her. So he makes a decision... Continue dating his boyfriend behind his girlfriend's back.

Blurb Title: Reconnecting on the Train

Pairing: ex!Remus x reader, Remus x Sirius, eventual poly!Wolfstar x reader

Warnings: none

blurb series navigation here

1. Reconnecting on the Train

You sat up as the train pulled into King’s Cross Station. This school year was going to be good, hopefully. You had already taken your NEWTs last year because what else did you have to do in a safehouse but study? So all you had to do was relax this year. You looked out the window, coming face to face with a very tall, plus size redhead and next to her, an equally tall blonde with a bob. They did charades to try and ask if anyone else was in your compartment or the one right next to yours. You weren’t even finished shaking your head before they booked it.

They breathed out sighs of relief as they plopped down on the seats before disappearing the wall between the two compartments so you were one big room. The train benches were arranged to be in a square formation with an opening for the door. 

The blonde with the spiky bob stuck out a hand. “Marlene McKinnon. 7th year.” 

“Y/N L/N. 7th year also.” 

A gasp echoed out. On the other side of James, Sirius froze up. His hand held on tighter to the taller boy next to him. He brought Remus’ hand to his lips, kissing it gently. How dare you show up here of all places? He was the main one to spend countless nights comforting the man when you left him. He had been the one to help put everything back together again and you were coming back to ruin it. 

You felt the train bench shake a little bit as one of the boys on the bench with golden brown hai— “Remus?” 

“Y/N?” 

James went wide-eyed. “Wait, that Y/N…” 

You both dug through your bags, pulling out polaroids sent years ago. Remus had to be sure. You held them up to each other’s faces for comparison. He looked different in only a year. The two of you were definitely the same people in your photos though. You were confused when his expression hardened at confirming it was you. 

“What are you doing here? You stopped writing. For months.” 

“I’m so sorry, babe.” 

Sirius laughed from behind Remus. “That’s it. I’m sorry?”  

You blinked twice, a bit taken aback by the hostility from his friends. “I’ve been a bit busy.” 

“Busy? So the rest of us just don’t have jack shit in our lives?” 

Fiddling with your hands a bit, you sighed. “Remus, can I talk to you alone?” 

“I’m sorry but until I get answers, you have to understand that it’s a little hard for me to just go anywhere with you.” 

“I’m a refugee. The MACUSA sent every new-maj into hiding because of Voldemort. Our schools grabbed us and our families in the middle of the night. We weren’t allowed to contact anyone outside. My family was rushed here because they got attacked. I’ve been separated from everyone else for their safety.” 

“Y/N, are you okay? Are they okay?” Remus’ face softened. 

His chest tightened as you shook your head. Honestly, you’d been putting on a brave face, telling him as much. You wanted to be a rock and a calming presence for your family during this time. And over the months, you’ve made peace with everything that’s happened. You understand it but you don’t feel like you’ve had a chance to be emotional about it. Remus jumped to his feet and pulled you into a hug when the tears started to fall. He rested his head against yours and rocked you back and forth. 

“I wanted to write to you. I’m sorry.”

“Shhh, it’s alright.” 

“I only found out two weeks ago that the UK was taking us in so I just decided to surprise you.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it was that bad. Your letters before never…” 

“I know. I tried to keep everything positive for you. I’m sorry if I made you worried.” 

“Stop apologizing. It’s alright. You’re here now. Safe… Y/N, do you want to go to the observation car, calm down a little? No one’s really in there, I promise. I’ll come get you in a moment, okay?” 

You smiled. That’s what you loved about your boyfriend. He was understanding and patient about the lack of letters. You nodded and handed him your stuff. He pointed out the observation car and waited for you to leave his sight before closing the carriage door. 

Remus groaned. “I’m such a shit boyfriend.” 

Sirius adamantly shook his head, offended that he would dare suggest that. “You didn’t know. I can’t believe she still thinks you’d be together after she left without a word.” 

“Sirius.” 

“He’s kind of right,” Regulus spoke up. “If I had disappeared for months, how could I possibly expect my partner to not move on?” 

“She’s just not like that. We’ve talked about her friends’ relationships before.” 

“That seems selfish.” 

A lot of the train agreed.

Peter opened up his can of Fizzing Whizbee. “Just break up with her… again.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Why? Do you still love her?” 

“No,” Remus answered without hesitation. “Feelings are long gone.” 

“Then why not?” 

“Y/N is fragile right now. Our relationship is her only stability. I feel like if I break up with her right now, it’ll shatter her.” 

“I’m not leaving you,” Sirius said. “I know we haven’t announced ourselves to the school yet but this relationship means something to me. This might sound awful but I don’t care. I don’t care what she’s been through enough to leave you. I had to pick up your heart when she wasn’t there. She can’t just take you from me.” 

“I don’t want to leave you either… Just let me make sure she’s on her feet then we’ll be over. Okay, love?” 

“How long?” 

“When we start the second semester? Is that okay with you?” 

Sirius thought about it for a considerable time. “Fine. Nothing can stop me from kissing you in broom closets, though.” 

Mary put away her crossword puzzles to grab a book instead. “You do know that she’ll want to be our friend, right?” 

Remus nodded. “I’m not saying to not be friends with her. She’ll fit right in here, I know it. I’d like to be friends with her if we can split amicably. Just don’t tell her about Sirius and I, let us break up naturally.” 

“Can do.” 

“Thank you… Love, do you have any rules for me?” 

Sirius thought for a moment. “Can you try not to be intimate with her? Just never initiate it. Kisses are fine, I expect that. You can even flirt. I won’t think anything of it. It’ll be like you and Lily or Mary. But no large gestures. And no calling her love or starshine or sweetheart. Those are my pet names, she’ll have to find her own.”  

The rest of the train ride wasn’t sat in uncomfortable silence but social conversation. You put your headphones back in and pulled out the crochet project you were working on. Your boyfriend looked over at you, tapping your ankle incessantly until you finally looked up and took out your earbuds. 

“Yeah, babe?” 

“Do you want anything from the trolley?” 

“Um, no, I’m good. I’m on a tight budget for now. I’ll just get another water.” You looked down in betrayal when your stomach grumbled.

“Here.” Sirius handed you a to-go bowl filled to the brim with salad. He gave Remus a sandwich filled with basically just meat. A favorite near the full moon. 

“Thank you,” you said with such kindness that he wanted to roll his eyes. You leaned into your boyfriend to exaggerate a whisper. “Your friends are really nice.” 

The train finally stopped at the Hogsmeade Station. You were beginning to buzz with excitement as you sat under the Sorting Hat. Your uniform changed from gray and white to splashes of red and gold as you made your way to a clapping table. A note plopped into your lap halfway through late lunch/early dinner. 

Back to School Party: 1st-4th year in Gryffindor Common Room. 5th-7th in Slytherin. 

When dinner ended, you didn’t want to follow the first years so you went with your train buddies that were in Gryffindor, trusting that you’d eventually find your room.  

“Oh.” 

Marlene and Mary turned to you. “What is it?” 

“My key has the number eleven on it too.” 

The girls ushered you into their, now your, dorm room. The other girls looked at each other as you unpacked in less than fifteen minutes. It was kind of sad and brought them to the reality that while they were worried about Voldemort and war, some people were already living it. 

You sat down on your bed. “So, what do you normally wear for parties?” 

“I don’t know about Ilvermorny but it’s about dressing hot.” 

You looked at your wardrobe. “How long do I have?”

| next blurb here |

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[pompadourpink]

It's a new beginning!

Hello children,

September is coming, school too for some of you - often a great moment for a bit of decluttering and a few new good resolutions. Here am I, offering myself as one of them!

As you hopefully know, I started this blog in 2016 and have been a private tutor since the beginning of the pandemic. I have room at the moment for several new students, so here is what I offer:

Classes, obviously - the typical schedule is one hour a week, sometimes one and a half, or one every two weeks, or two every two weeks; typically same day same time (I'm always happy to make adjustments if you work shifts)

Homework, if you can make the time for it. I typically prefer it to be finished by the middle of the week so that I have time to take a look and correct it, giving you the opportunity to give it a second try before class!

Depending on your preferences, either just a few activities so we can take our time, especially if you are a beginner, or something a bit more dynamic consisting in five to ten minute long activities to keep you motivated and alert (which seems to be a crowd's favourite as most of my students are neurodivergent).

Talking activities are typically answering series of questions I share from my Notion, talking about your week, summarising a book or a movie, making me guess a word or a person, or a concept I call "alien talk" where you explain something (like a vaccine or insurance) from scratch to a little red man.

Writing activities are often fictional (I have students create a little character on a website and we write an update about their life regularly), they can also be an overview of your month, a letter to quit your horrible job or convince Snoop Dog to marry you because you are a gold digger.

Transcribing activities, especially at the beginning, are either me reading very easy sentences so you can write them down and memorise the way things sound, then it's episodes from young children's shows, extracts from very famous movies, then we hit harder and turn to gameshows or podcasts.

Translating activities, from one language to another, are a written translation of the first page of a novel (I did the Secret History recently), or a newspapers article (we are working on this one at the moment); or an oral translation of songs lyrics, fairytales, children's books, muted captioned playthroughs of your favourite games on Youtube, etc.

Finally, a few games: silly quizzes, crosswords, Wordle and even Quordle, hangman, and sometimes we even sing if you're comfortable with that.

Here is the link of my website where you will find reviews and a list of what to send me to get the process started. A few things to know:

I try to make the activities fit your preferences: get me a list of what you like and that is what we will work on. If your first language is not English, I am happy to include it, I'm always eager to learn (I've been reviewing my Spanish this way!)

I work without cameras. I don't need to see your face, I just need a voice and a good Internet connection. All students are welcome, no matter if you have an accent, a stutter, or disabilities. Do not be afraid of being judged, there is none of that here.

I ask for your contact information to be able to do my billing, no one else sees it and no one will know if you give me the address of a building in your area if you feel more comfortable this way. If you prefer to have a lesson first and decide that you want to continue before sending me your info, that's also an option.

I have a student and a regular rate, depending on what you can afford, and we can make different arrangements if your country's rate makes it too difficult, I've done it before.

Please comment if you have a question!

Much love,

Rose

[windsweptinred]

@mashumaru I hope you don't mind me answering your question here? There was no way this was fitting in the comments section. 😅 So these are what I'd call more Sunday afternoon murder mysteries then gritty crime dramas, as that's what I'm mainly watching at the mo. But if you'd like some darker recs, just let me know.

Anywho...

Midsomer Murders

The ultimate Sunday afternoon watch. Murder most foul, represented artistically in the form of a cream tea. Starring Inspector Barnaby(s), the most teddy bear men ever to exist. Every episode will include chocolate box village eye porn. Murder weapons have included but are not limited to: a cheese wheel, drowned in chocolate, a headless horseman and a steampunk werewolf. It sounds ridiculous but once you start, you won't be able to stop. I promsie you. The horrors: 0/10, though may leave you with a life long phobia of morris dancers and village fetes.

The Morseverse (Endeavour/Inspector Morse and Lewis)

Ah Morseverse, my beloved. The English academic elite does crime. Oxford is it's own splendorous character, with every episode crammed full of towering libraries, awe inspiring architecture and fanatically manicured, college quads. A must watch for those whose hearts belong to dark academia. Endeavour and Morse are set in the 60s/70s and 80s/90s respectively. And follow the same character, Endeavour Morse, from brilliant, blue eyed, troubled twink to brilliant, blue eyed, grumpy old man with a definite alcohol problem. (Never play drink along with Morse, it's a surefire way to get alcohol poisoning.) The baton is then passed to his sergeant, Robert Lewis in Lewis, set in the relative present (as of this post). The relationship between Inspector and Sergeant is what ultimately makes these series, be it Fred Thursday and Morse, Morse and Lewis and Lewis and James Hathaway. And you'll come to treasure them. Be prepared to leave these series with a well earned fictional degree in classical music. Murders CAN and WILL be based on obscure, literary references. The horrors: Well it depends.... I'd say Endeavour is the darkest, Lewis is the lightest with Morse settled nicely in between. If you finish this series not wanting a Jaguar Mark II, you did it wrong.

Vera

Vera Stanhope, my northumbrian queen, my geordie goddess. A middle aged plus woman, with no makeup (or two f*cks to rubs together) decked in a brown hat and mac and driving the world most beaten up land rover.... Owns everyone. And it is sooo satisfying to watch. The scenic southern eye candy of the two previous recs is replaced with the wild, isolated landscapes of the North, very much reflecting our DI. She's joined by sergeant dark and dishy and the ever more put up Kenny Lockhart, as well as host of others. But what really makes this series is Vera herself. As equally formidable as she is kind hearted, with no hint of glamour. She's the kind of female representation we both need and deserve. The horrors: Vera passive aggressively calling vicious murderers 'pet' fixes all world problems. It's scientifically proven.

Things you may have heard of:

Sherlock Holmes, the Granada edition starring Jeremy Brett. No finer Sherlock has ever graced our screens to this day (And yes, I will stand and fight for that statement.) One of the most loyal adaptations of the books ever made.

Poirot, staring David Suchet. No offence to Kenneth Branagh (Your Henry V got me through high-school English lit sir). But David Suchet is THE Prirot for me. Another loyal book adaptation. Over a 25 year period Suchet lived and breathed Poirot and it shows.

If anyone's got any other recommendations please feel free to add them on. I know I've missed a ton! Anywho, I hope that helps me dear. 😁

[curtis-corner]

Stand By Me : A Darry Curtis Fic

Set during/after the events of The Outsiders, the story of how Darry Curtis falls in love and realizes he deserves it <3 Some angst, but always a happy ending. Not sure how many parts this will be, I've got a lot of ideas so it could go a while!

No use of y/n, told in second person POV. Comment to be added to the tag list!

TW (will update as story goes on): parent with gambling and drinking issues, mild violence (less than the book), swearing from our greasers

Part One

The radio plays The Four Tops and you turn it up a little louder.

You finish stuffing another roll of quarters and bend the edges so they stay shut. Mr. Murphy, the owner of the general store you work at, doesn’t let just anyone roll up the change – you’ve earned it, like you earned his trust.

You started working at Murphy’s General Store on weekends at fourteen when your mom ran off and your dad was spending his paycheck at the pool hall instead of filling the refrigerator. Once you finished high school, it turned to six days a week – every day except Sunday. Nobody really worked on Sunday. It was supposed to be a day of rest, but it was usually the day you could clean the house.

Today was Tuesday, and it felt far from Sunday, but you didn’t mind. The windows were open and a cool autumn breeze was coming through. Summers could be brutal in Tulsa, you weren’t sad to see it end.

The bells hanging over the front door give a jingle and you glance up to see Darrel Curtis walk through. He looks for you, gives you a small smile and then heads back towards the medical supplies. Darrel was always buying bandages or aspirin or ointment; you knew of his brothers and his friends and imagined someone always needed a bit of patching up in the Curtis house.

You subtly tried to check your reflection in the front windows, smoothing down your hair and adjusting the nametag on your dress. It was silly: Darrel had been coming in the store for years, more so now since his parents passed and besides being polite, he had never used a pickup line or any sort of flirting with you.

He used to smile more when he would come in with his football friends from the West Side of town, or with his parents or brothers. But not in the last eight months – every time you see him, he looks a little more tired, a little more worried. You wish you could talk to him; tell him you understand somewhat what it’s like to grow up too fast and wish so hard life had been different. But Darrel never seemed in the mood for small talk, let alone deep conversations, so you didn’t push.

He brings an assortment of medical supplies, packs of cigarettes, a six pack of beer and some lined paper and pencils to the check-out counter and you enter most of the prices into the register by memory. You take out a brown paper bag to put everything in and his hand reaches out.

“I can do it.” His voice, on the rare times you get to hear it, always made you feel a little warm.

“It’s alright, it’s my job.” You put the beer in the bag first since it was the heaviest, and you weren’t surprised when he started helping with the other items. You tell him his total and when you give him his change your soft hand brushes his rough one. You look up into his eyes and give a small smile.

“Thanks,” he says and for the first time in a few months, he holds your gaze.

“You’re welcome.” He gives you a nod and heads out and you don’t realize you are staring until the bell over the door jingles again with a group of teenagers.

The general store was in the middle of town, you saw everyone from Greasers to Socs and you tried to keep your head down and stay out of it all. You grew up on the East Side, poor like everyone else in your neighborhood, but you did alright in school and was in advanced classes that had you right next to the rich kids of Tulsa. You weren’t popular, but you weren’t an outcast; you had a few friends but working and taking care of your father always got in the way of really being a teenager.

Sometimes, late at night when the scary thoughts seemed to settle in, you wonder if this was going be the rest of your life: work at the store, take care of daddy, pay the bills, cook, clean and repeat. You were a few months away from turning twenty and you had never been in love, never done anything beyond a few innocent kisses.

You would remind yourself it wasn’t any use getting worked up about, plenty of people had it far worse. But sometimes you would wonder, what if…

---

A few days later, Darrel’s youngest brother’s face is all over the papers next to Johnny Cade’s, labelling them as dangerous criminals on the run for killing a Soc kid. They used Ponyboy’s school picture- he was barely 14, how could he be mixed up in all of this? The paper told a story of two hot head and dangerous Greasers murdering a nice boy from the West Side in cold blood.

But it didn’t sit right with you. You just knew it couldn’t be true, it had to be an accident, or something more had happened. You thought about it all through your shift, and then again when you were home picking empty beer bottles off the floor and cooking hamburgers for your father.

“Dad,” you try to shake him from where he was passed out on the couch. “Dad, there’s dinner on the table.”

“Breakfast?” He groaned, rolling over. He was still in the clothes he went out in from the previous night. You had taken his shoes off in the morning before you left for work so they wouldn’t dirty the couch.

“No Dad, it’s dinnertime. I got off work an hour ago. Here,” you hand him water and two aspirin. He downs both with practiced ease.

The night goes on as usual, you clean up dinner and tidy the house, while your dad takes a shower then heads out to the pool hall. Your company is the radio, softly playing in the living room while you patch a small hole in your favorite skirt. The Supremes sing about not hurrying love and your mind wonders to Darrel Curtis and how he’s handling everything.

--

Three days later Darrel comes into the general store, looking worse than when you saw him after his parents passed. It’s just the two of you, nearly closing time, and everyone else has done their shopping for the day.

He doesn’t make eye contact with you as he puts the beer and cigarettes on the counter and digs in his pocket for his wallet. You know you shouldn’t bring it up, it’s really none of your business even if the paper is trying to make it the whole town’s business. But you can’t stop yourself from asking:

“How are you doing Darrel?”

His head snaps up, eyes wary. You realize he’s read the same papers you have, he’s well aware of what they are saying about his brother and you rush to explain why you’re asking.

“I know Ponyboy and Johnny, not well, but they come in the store sometimes and they are sweet boys. Even when they are with Dallas Winston, who is always a little mouthy, or Two-bit who is always trying to swipe something, they stay sweet and out of too much trouble. I don’t think they did this at all.” It all comes rushing out of you and you know you’re starting to turn a faint shade of pink, but Darrel’s expression softens.

“They still haven’t found ‘em. Part of me doesn’t want them to, if what they are saying is true. But thinking of them out there…” he trails off and rubs the back of his neck, looking up, then back at you. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about it.”

“I was the one who asked.” You say with a shrug. “And you still didn’t answer on how you were.” He doesn’t quite smile, but it’s almost close.

“Not so good.”

And maybe it was the honesty you weren’t expecting, or maybe it’s how his voice breaks a little on the word ‘good’, but you reach out and take his hand. That feeling from the other day is back, warmer this time and after a second, he holds your hand a little tighter.

“He’ll be okay,” you say, holding Darrel’s gaze. “I’ve said about a hundred prayers for him and Johnny already.” At this, he does start to smile, and you notice a deep dimple in his right cheek.

“You mind throwing in one for me too?”

“Sure,” You squeeze his hand again before having to let go to get his change. He glances at the clock hanging over the register.

“Y’all close soon, right?”

“In a few minutes. I did most of my chores already so I just have to lock everything up since the stock boy called out tonight.”

“You walk here?” You nod. “Let me give you a ride home. It’s getting rougher out there.” You open your mouth to protest, but he gives a pleading look. “Please.”

“Alright. I’ll only be a few minutes if you want to wait outside.” He nods and takes his bag out to the car while you try to take a few breaths as a you turn off the lights and get the keys for the front doors.

You go out the back door and when you walk around the building you see him leaning against the passenger side of his old truck. As you get closer he opens the door for you and you slide in.

He gets in, turns the ignition and you start driving towards the East Side. It’s quiet without the radio on and at first you can’t think of what to say, but he speaks first.

“Thank you, for what you said. About Pony and Johnny. They are good boys, they’re just…” he trails off.

“Mixed up in something awful. I’m sorry y’all have to go through it, I don’t have any siblings but I can’t even imagine.” You look out the side window to see a stray cat wandering down the road. You quietly tell him where to turn and he nods, pulling in front of the old, run down house.

“Do you work every day?” Darrel asks. You nod.

“Every day except Sunday. Mostly the morning and afternoon shifts, but twice a week I close up too.”

“That’s a lot of shifts,” he says and you glance up at the house where a dim light shines from the front room. If you don’t bring home the money, those lights would be dark. You learned that at fourteen years old.

“It’s not that bad. Mr. Murphy is about the best boss you can ask for. And it’s a job, and better than the ones some people have to do.”

“You see the good in everything?” he asks skeptically and you let out a small laugh.

“Not always. But I try to.” He’s looking into your eyes now, really looking. “It makes living a bit easier when you do.”

“Maybe I’ll try it sometime.” His voice is a little deeper, and it makes your head feel lighter. You know you need to leave the truck before you say something even crazier than you already have, even though leaving the truck is about the last thing you want to do.

“Thanks for the ride Darrel.”

“Darry.” He corrects and you raise your eyebrows. “You can call me Darry.”

“Alright. Darry.”

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴘɪᴘᴇᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ (J.M)

*vision bored doesn't describe readers' looks it describes the vibes of the story*

Pairing: football-player!Joel Miller x golden-girl!Fem!Reader

POV: This story is told through the POV of high school senior Joel Miller

Summary: Joel's girl lives in his dreams and in the house next door. He's always known her, and he's always wanted her, but in ApplePine, whose dream does she not haunt? Now He has a chance that He's been looking forward to all his life. This can't fail. He won't let someone like her slip away.

Warnings/tags: Kind of toxic undertones, mentions of a bad home life (reader), church, idolization, nerves, kissing and making out, small Texas town with very traditional values, climbing and watching people through windows, Joel is a Lil bit of a stalker, BAD American football talk. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

WC: 4.5k

On most Saturdays and after church on Sundays, she could be found working at the local ice cream shop. Occasionally, if there wasn't a football game, she would also work on Fridays. She was a well-known figure in our small town - being the girl next door, head cheerleader, and leading member of the student council. Her many accomplishments included winning the title of Little Miss Apple Pine, which only added to her popularity. Many of us admired her from afar, watching her ride her bike with friends, interact with the little kids in the neighborhood, or simply be in her element with a book in hand and a Walkman playing some music.

It was difficult to tell what music she listened to, but I'd like to think it was hard rock, maybe Guns N' Roses. However, her sweet nature suggested it was more likely to be Bon Jovi or AC/DC. Despite her bright persona, we all knew that she had a tough time at home, our houses were right next to each other too It was sad but there's only so much a loud TV can cover.

We attend the same school and ride the same bus together. We have chemistry class as well as lunch B together. Additionally, we share gym and math classes. I have noticed that she is quieter in math class and doesn't answer questions as quickly. In math class, she sits three seats ahead of me, and during lunch, she sits six seats away from me. Her round lunch table is located ten tables away from mine, and it's always occupied by a few cheerleaders and jocks who are considered acceptable, unlike me who often gets thrown off the field for hitting refs because of not knowing if  I'm coming or going. Compared to them, she seems to be in another world, like a cool autumn day in the middle of a hot Texas summer.

As the chemistry class began, Mr. McMory walked into the classroom with his glasses resting on the tip of his nose. He had only undone the top button of his shirt, showing some long curly grey chest hairs — utterly gross if you ask me. We all watched as he walked to the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. He clasped his hands together behind his back and stopped before turning to face the class.

"Now, as most of you probably know, we will need to form a new set of lab partners for this semester. However, to keep things fair so everyone gets a chance of getting matched with whom You would prefer, I've decided to have you all write your names on a small piece of paper and put them in this box. Once I've finished passing them out, I will draw two student names from the box at random, and those two will be your partners for this semester."

Without having to pause, Mr. McMory spoke clearly. This routine was something he did every marking period, four times a year, for 30 years. The memories of the previous marking period memories flooded my mind, where Jason Duly and Billy Holiday tried to bribe Gaby Michelle to give up her seat so that they could sit next to our classmate, the charming "I trust that you all understand the process now?" Mr. McMory continued. Once no one raised their hands to question what he said, he walked back to the front and handed out the small pieces of paper to everyone. "Now you have two minutes to write your names on the paper, then place it into the box. Once you are all finished, I will begin the randomized selection."

Chaos began to take place across the room with various bets being placed and trades being arranged like a market in the middle of a jungle, I wrote my name on the slip of paper without a thought. It was a meaningless task to me, as I would have been fine with getting anyone as my lab partner. In the middle sat our Pipe Dream, seemingly clueless to it all, while these students scrambled like mad to gain the favor of their desired partners, and the professor seemed unaware of all the action taking place in the classroom.

The chaos of the class was suddenly drowned out by Mr. McMory yelling out to have students start putting their slips into the box. As the box was quickly getting more and more full, the class started to become more and more silent and calm as no one wanted to be one of the ones not getting the partner they wanted even if they all wanted the same one our darling Miss pipedream isn't only perfect in every way but she's also incredibly smart.

Mr. McMory walked to the front of the classroom and stood in front of the whiteboard. He held the box and a red whiteboard marker. "No changing partners unless both parties are in agreement," he said as he paused and placed the box on a stool in front of him. He then pulled out the first two names. "Gaby and Hannah," he announced, causing a small gasp from some students. Mr. McMory placed the paper down and wrote the names on the board. There was a moment of silence before a low murmur began to spread throughout the classroom Mr. McMory then pulled out another two slips from the box and announced the next pairs of names: "Billy and Jillian, Jason and Cory." As each pair was announced, the two people were immediately surrounded by cheers of excitement or groans of disappointment. Some students could be overheard saying things like "no way!" and "I can't believe this!" and "Are we sure it's fair?" There were a few complaints here and there that their partner was not who they wanted, but Mr. McMory quickly cut them off, saying, "No changing partners unless both parties are in agreement, understood?"

As I stood watching the chaos break loose behind me, I couldn't help but chuckle at how quickly everything was unfolding. However, my laughter came to a sudden halt when Mr. McMory announced me and a stranger as partners.No, not a stranger, It was the girl who seemed to have it all, the girl who had effortlessly made her way through every aspect of the school and had become something of a legend. She was the girl next door, the one every boy wanted, and the only one I was enamored with at the slightest glance in her direction. My heart skipped a beat as I looked over the crowd and saw her smiling brightly at me. Time seemed to slow down as the rest of the world faded away. It was as if the universe was just waiting for us to get to know each other. My nervousness quickly turned into an adrenaline rush as I became more and more excited. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up, a chance to turn my dreams into reality and finally figure her out.

On the bus, I noticed her again. We made eye contact but didn't speak. She sat with her friend Sally Handson until she got off at her stop. However, I didn't expect her to move over and sit in the same seat as me.

"You're Joel, right?" she asked me before kindly offering her hand to shake.

"That's me," I smiled as I gently took her hand in mine and shook it. Our skin connected, and I felt a slight tremor in my hand before letting go, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward. I looked back up to see her, and she seemed to be just as nervous as I felt. The silence seemed to linger on for a moment before she spoke again.

"I just wanted to ask if you've had a chance to look at the assignment yet?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before speaking. "No, actually, I'm not very good at chemistry. I was probably going to copy off of you, to tell you the truth," I said, trying to make a joke, but struggling to hide the fact that it was true.

She smiled brightly, showing off her pearly white teeth. "Like all football players. It's okay though, I can help you study sometime if you'd like?"

As she spoke, my heart skipped a beat and my cheeks flushed. The offer of her help flooded my mind with different scenarios, from spending time with her after school to studying together at the library or even hosting study groups at our houses. I chuckled nervously and nodded my head.

The sudden stop of the bus snapped me back to reality, and a thought raced through my mind. Should I ask to walk her home? The offer seemed so appealing, and I was filled with possibilities of getting to know her even better. It was time to take the chance, but I had to fight the nervousness building inside me.

"Hey, are you walking to your house? Because I was just going to ask if...if I could walk you home?" I spoke the words carefully, fearing that I might mess up and ruin the moment. I fiddled with the straps of my backpack, feeling my heart pound in my chest as I waited for her response.

She smiled kindly at me. "Yes, and I would love that. Do you know which house?"

"I do," I said with a slightly more confident tone than before. I felt myself calming down as the idea of walking home together became more real. She began to take in the neighborhood around us, and I thought it was a perfect time to start a conversation.

"So, this is where you live?"

She giggled, and her laughter was infectious. I couldn't help but smile. "Joel, you and I have lived in the same neighborhood since we were newborns. We're neighbors for goodness sake, no need to be so formal with me."

She was right; I was overthinking our interactions. We had been neighbors for as long as I could remember. "Oh yeah...I suppose you have a point. I guess my nervousness made me go blank like that. I'm just not used to seeing you when you're not out on the field with your cheer squad." I chuckled, feeling my nerves die down even more as I looked over at her and relaxed a bit more.

"I understand it's hard not to picture me like that, and you as well, Joel. You're violent on the field. I'm pretty sure that referee from Tentown had a broken nose," she tries to make conversation. 

The mention of the game in Tentown makes me chuckle a bit. That was the first game in the league where I was allowed to play, and I suppose my desire to prove myself ended with me getting a bit carried away. The thought of the ref's nose makes me chuckle a bit more as I couldn't help but feel bad for the ref. 

"Yeah, I think you're right about that. But that's just how it is, right? The game is pretty brutal. I can't play without getting a little carried away." 

She thinks for a second and then says, "Maybe that's why you're always benched, along with Tommy? Speaking of your brother, where is he? Oh, and how are poor freshmen? I heard the older football players are being a little mean."

The question about my benching for games suddenly brings back my nervous energy, and I immediately feel uncomfortable talking about it. "That's probably one of the reasons for it, yeah..." I sigh as the mention of my brother and some of the team's hazing of the freshman brings a frown to my face.

"It pisses me off how they treat some of the freshmen like that. I don't see why they can't just treat them like the rest of the team..." I pause mid-sentence as the thought comes to my mind.

"I feel so bad for the poor freshman. They do the same thing on the cheer team," she said. We stopped at the crossing signal, and I was surprised by how well she could relate to what I was describing. It dawned on me that she may have experienced it more than I had considering how involved she is in cheer. We waited for the light to turn green, and I smiled at her.

"We should set up a study date sometime soon. After all, you said you're not that good at chemistry?" she said as we got closer to her house. I was thrilled at the possibility of spending more time with her.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. I'll certainly need the help," I chuckled. She walked ahead of me with a sweet little glide in her step, making me have to catch up to her as we continued walking.

"Which days work for you?" she asked, opening her backpack and taking out a pen and paper. "Oh, and write down your landline number." I replied, "I'm pretty much free all week, so just let me know what works for you." Her request for my landline number made my heart skip a beat as it reminded me of when she offered to help me at her place.

"How about Friday after school since there's no game? We can meet at my place," she suggested as we stood outside her front gate. "That works great for me! We can discuss our study plans and maybe even study together if you're up for it," I replied excitedly. "Your place sounds perfect, and I just want to say thank you," I added, feeling grateful for her help. She smiled and said, "Of course, Joel." Then she walked into her yard and house, waving goodbye.

Friday couldn't come any quicker in my mind. I couldn't get Miss Applepine, Cheery Pie, Pipe Dream out of my head at all. The more we talked in class, the more I fell under her spell and the more I wanted to know... She was a mystery, and I wanted to be the first to hear everything she was willing to tell.

now stand at her front door. I rang the doorbell eagerly waiting for her to answer. She opened the door; she looked so pretty. "Come on in, Joel," she opened the door to let me in. In all my years of being neighbors, I always wondered what her house looked like, and to be honest, her house is less organized than I thought.

"Sorry about the mess. You know, it's just me and my dad, and I'm a little behind on chores... um... studying," she began to ramble but stopped herself. It was rather cute; it made me smile even more.

"Come on upstairs to my room. I have all my books and everything up there," she led me up to her bedroom. It was so normal - band posters, photos of her family, school items, her numerous awards, and her window looked directly into my room.

As we entered her room, I couldn't resist glancing over to her window again. It felt like this was the closest I could get to seeing inside her home for A Long time and now I'm inside the looking glass. I took a seat right next to her bed as she went to her bookshelf to collect her textbooks. As we started reviewing the material, a wave of butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I occasionally stole a glance at her while she flipped through different articles, but I couldn't hold my stare for long.

"Are these all the books we're going to be using?" I asked as she placed her biology and chemistry books on her desk. I watched her lean over, her eyes almost glued to the books as she read through them. "Yeah, these are the ones. I just want to make sure that we're both prepared for this project. It's about how we think the universe began, so lots to cover" she replied with a soft smile that brought me back to reality for a moment as I gazed into her eyes.

"I'm ready to start studying. So, what do you want to start with?" she asked as I sat down. She looked at me with a sweet smile and thought for a moment before responding, "Do you think we should start with chemistry? I know it's the one you struggle with the most."

"Sure, that works," I replied excitedly she remembered that from the walk my cheeks got a little pink as I opened the book and looked over her shoulder to find the section she had mentioned. I was determined to pay close attention this time, feeling more relaxed thanks to her calm and collected presence.

Every little gesture or movement she made caught my full attention like a spark in my head. Her adorable smile and the way she played with her hair made it difficult to resist complimenting her. When she asked if she could ask me something, it snapped me out of my trance for a moment. I replied with a simple "Yeah, sure."

As she playfully hit my shoulder, her touch felt light as a feather. I couldn't help but smile, sitting up and crossing my legs like she was doing. Moving my book from my lap, I placed it on the end of her bed. "Why can't you focus?" she asked, and my heart started racing. I didn't want to tell her the truth, so I lied, "No reason..." Trying to act casual, I could feel myself blushing as she hit my shoulder and called me out. It was because of her - her sweet smile, small gestures, and the way she sat cross-legged on her bed - that I couldn't focus. But I couldn't just outright admit that I had a massive crush on her.

"We can take a break?" she offered, and I felt even more nervous. The idea of taking a break meant a chance to talk about things other than studying and a chance to just hang out with her. I was hoping that she felt the same way and that she also couldn't help but notice the tension that was building between us. I sat back up and joked, "You're saying that as if I would deny the offer." My heart was racing, and I couldn't help but wonder if she could feel the same tension I did.

As we continued to talk, I made sure to continue moving closer to her every chance that I could get. The heat coming from her body filled me with a new sense of boldness as I tried to make my actions more noticeable. "I mean who can blame me, when I'm sitting across from someone so charming..." I said as I leaned forward a little, making the distance between us almost nonexistent.

"Have you been studying for long?" she asked me as she laid back on her bed, making it clear that she had no plans to get up anytime soon. As the conversation shifted towards more flirtatious topics, I started to blush slightly. "Do you mean studying?..." I replied to her, but even I could hear that my voice had taken on a flirty tone.

"Yes, studying, or are you just as brain-dead as the other football players?" she joked. "Hey now, what are you implying?" I responded teasingly as I moved closer to her. As we talked more, the tone of the conversation became increasingly flirtatious, and I struggled to hold back my blush. "You're the one who keeps saying we should take a break. Sounds like you don't want to study..." I said, trying to pretend to focus on a book.

But even as we continued discussing the material or pretending to, I noticed her eyes drifting toward me as she glanced up and down my body. It made me feel a little uneasy, but also excited as I wondered what she was thinking. Could she feel the same tension between us that I felt?

"Hmmm, maybe I don't. But you're the one who said yes to the break." she grinned mischievously as I scooted slightly closer to her, looking up and staring into her eyes. "You make it kind of hard to pay attention..."

As we continued to talk The heat coming from her body filled me with a sense of boldness as I attempted to make my actions more noticeable. "I mean, who can blame me when I'm sitting across from someone so charming?" I said as I leaned forward a little, making the distance between us almost nonexistent.

"I'm flattered. I'll take that as a compliment since you're also very kind with your words," she said as I moved even closer to her. We were almost too close for comfort, but I couldn't resist getting even closer. "I thought I was charming, but you are even more charming than I imagined," I told her, leaning in even closer until I was practically touching her. I felt like I was crossing a line, but I couldn't help myself. Her eyes seemed to be blushing, and I felt a sudden burst of confidence. I brought my hand up to her side, almost touching her waist. "You are an interesting girl," I whispered.

"You find me interesting?" she asked, smiling shyly and looking down. I could tell she was blushing and feeling a little embarrassed, but I decided to take a risk and leaned in even closer. Our faces were almost touching, and I could feel her breath on my face. I looked up at her and felt a rush of emotions.

"I didn't know you were so easy to read," I said as I leaned even closer to her, this time the tiny distance between us was nothing but air. I couldn't help but feel that feeling building inside me again as I watched her face grow redder and redder as it appeared to be a little closer every time. "I'm sure most guys would be more than happy to take advantage of a beautiful girl like you.”

“Are you most guys? Should I be worried? I'm not a one-and-done girl, Joel…” she said, showing insecurity for what seems to be the first time. As she asked me if I was 'most guys', I couldn't help but feel my heart sink for a brief second as I heard her insecurity, but I quickly recovered and smiled as I looked down at her. My hands slowly wrapped around her waist as I leaned even closer. "Oh please, you think I'm going to leave someone as beautiful and kind as you just like that. You aren't a one-and-done girl, you're... you're an angel." I slowly leaned forward so our faces were just a hair's width apart. I gazed into her eyes, lost in the moment, when she suddenly exclaimed, "An Angel?" Her voice was soft, yet full of wonder, as if she had just seen something magical. She was so close to me that I could feel her breath on my face, and I couldn't help but notice the way her face immediately flushed up with red. Her eyes quickly looked down, as if to distract herself from her sudden burst of emotion.

I kept looking at her, waiting for her to look back up at me. I leaned down just a bit more, my heart racing with anticipation, as my lips were barely an inch from hers when she finally decided to look back up. I couldn't help but feel the surge of joy rushing through my body as I saw the way her eyes slowly opened and she looked back up to face me.

The way her cheeks were still flushed and the shy, but happy look on her face was exactly what I needed. It was the perfect moment as I leaned in for the kiss. Our lips met in a sweet and simple embrace, and I felt a warmth spread through my body. It was like time had stopped, and nothing else mattered in the world except for that moment. I held her close as we kissed, and I knew deep down inside that this was the start of something special.

The kiss started gentle but with each second that passed it started to become more intense. The heat of her body and the way her hands ran through my hair was making my heart skip a few beats as I started to wish I could pull her into an even deeper kiss. I didn't want to overwhelm her though so I tried to keep it simple, although it was hard to keep my hands from finding every part of her body that I could. She's not someone who wants a one-time thing and I'll do everything I can to make sure she doesn't think all I want is sex.

We disengaged when we heard her front door slam shut. "That's my dad!" she exclaimed, her urgency evident. "He can't know you're here." She swiftly rose, pulling me up with her, both of us breaking away from the kiss as she hurried us along. Her pace was so brisk that it took a moment for me to catch on before I scrambled up. "Why can't he know I'm here?" I whispered, trying to avoid any noise as her dad ascended the stairs.

"Because he'll flip if he finds a guy in my room. Though, it's not like it's the first time I've had a guy over," she rushed, steering us towards her bedroom window. "Seriously? You've done this before?" I questioned? but that conversation could wait as we reached her bedroom window, which she promptly opened, urging me outside.

"Well, there was this one time Dad caught me, and he nearly lost it. I promised I wouldn't do it again, and he dropped it," she explained hurriedly, her insistence on getting me out the window starting to concern me. I trusted she knew what she was doing, but I wasn't quite prepared for what came next.

"Are you seriously making me climb out your window?" I protested.

"Don't be a wimp. You'll be fine. You're not the first guy I've had over," she reassured, though her words didn't ease my nerves. The distance from her window to the ground seemed to grow as she tugged me closer to the edge.

As I began to climb out, my foot slipped, and I fell with a hard thud and a loud squeak.

Despite the throbbing pain in my ankle, the walk home afforded me ample time to ponder, and my thoughts continuously circled back to her. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, as if she was keeping something from me. If she's had numerous guys over before, why the sudden worry about her dad catching her? Was I just another casual fling to her? My mind brimmed with inquiries for my elusive "little miss pipedream."