#seems like i should be able to send it after they deliver the food correctly...not to be like that but you know

[lightgaswaterelectricityrent]

on one hand this is fucking annoying. on the other hand they are delivering 35 pounds of dog food and it's 105 idk

[hockeywhhores]

birthday gifts- c. hart

Carter Hart x Reader 

warnings~ swearing, alcohol, jealous reader

summary~ Reader’s birthday coming up and Carter can’t wait to spoil her. Their true feelings come out after an incident at dinner. 

genre~ friends to lovers, fluff with some moments of angst 

word count~ 3.1K

Valentine’s week masterlist 

Main masterlist 

Carter Hart quickly became your best friend when you met in a small, local coffee shop in Philly. You were caught off guard when the weather had changed from being slightly cloudy to heavy rain. Your light sweatshirt and jeans would not get you back to your college campus in a decent condition. So as you were internally panicking, Cater slid up beside you and gave you his umbrella.

“Here you seem to need this more than I do.” the blue-eyed boy smiled at you. He was pushing the umbrella towards you, and you were trying to decide if to take it or not.

“I don’t know. Won’t you need it?” you asked him, slightly confused.

“I’m just going to my car, you look like you might have a longer trek then me.” he had assumed correctly, but you were still torn inside. “I’m Carter, and I don’t really need it.”

“y/n” you mumbled your name.

“How about we can swap numbers, and you can give it back after today, if that will make you feel better about taking it.” Carter suggested. You just nodded to show you agreed. He handed you his phone, and you handed him yours. And that was how you had met Carter Hart, goalie for the Philadelphia Flyers, and hadn’t even known it. It surprised you when he had told you, but thought little of it. You did not want to make him feel as if you were using him for fame. Carter appreciated it when you didn’t change how you acted towards him, when he told you about his job. You were just a sweet, carefree college student, and he was a young NHL goalie, but that changed nothing between you. You were still dragging him to bars on his days off, and he was still dragging you to go suit shopping with him.

Suit shopping wasn’t something you thought you would do, but here you were. Stuck in a store where one piece of clothing probably cost more than your rent. Sitting in a chair waiting for Carter to get done changing so you could review which suit he had just put on. Whenever you asked why he wanted you to come with him; he just said that he needed a woman's input, so he could get the ladies. You knew that wasn’t true, but you didn’t argue for anything else. As you were getting really bored, out walked Carter in a light blue suit. The color was not working for him, and all you could do was laugh.

“I don’t think this is my color.” He stated plainly, looking into the full body mirror that was across the room. You just kept laughing, and he gave you a playful scowl. “Why don’t you try picking out a suit color.” challenge accepted. You got up and walked into the men's section looking for anything that stood out to you, and that was when you found a dark navy suit. It was plain, but you thought it would look good.

“Here!” you skipped back up to him, with the suit in hand. “Try this on, dork.” He joggled his head, but turned on his heels and went into the dressing room. Instead of just sitting and waiting, you started looking around at all the accessories. The men’s and women’s were mixed, and you couldn’t take your eyes off this one necklace. The necklace had a gold chain with the charm being your birthstone. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it. You didn’t even realize when Carter came up behind you.

“Which necklace are you looking at?” he gently asked you. You could feel his breath on your ear.

“The gold one, with the birthstone on it.” you said pointing in the general direction. He waved over an employee that was standing nearby.

“Can you get out that necklace for me?” Carter asked, while pointing it out to the worker.

“Carter! I could never afford that! Don’t waste his time.” you were trying to stop him. Embarrassed and regretting telling him which necklace you were looking at, you couldn’t bring your eyes from the floor. His shoes looked great at the moment.

“Yeah, but I can.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but you are not buying that for me.” you were way too proud to let him buy you that necklace.

“Come on. If you like it, I am more than willing to buy it for you.” Carter was trying to convince you, but you were having none of it.

“No. We are suit shopping for you, not necklace shopping for me.” you shut him down, and he knew not to fight it after you got like this. With a huff, he went back to looking at the mirror that was around the dressing room.

“I like this one! I guess you can pick out a suit better than me, y/n.” Carter pulled you back into reality when he spoke. Looking him up and down, you would not tell him how much you loved that suit on him. The suit made him look the good kind of older, and it took your breath away. You should not be thinking of your best friend like this, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You always knew Carter was good looking. I mean, you watch all the girls in the bar approach him, but seeing him like this made you feel so much more than you should.

“Get that suit.” you demanded. You would not let him walk out of this ridiculously overpriced store without it.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He smiled at you through the mirror. It was your turn to playfully roll your eyes at him.

Carter changed back into the clothes he came in, which was a pair of black sweatpants and a Flyers shirt. The shirt really showed off his arms, and you caught yourself looking at them too many times. Getting home was pretty quick, and you just decided to uber eats some food while you worked on homework and Carter fidgeted with anything in his sight. He was thinking about the way your eyes shimmered when you looked at that necklace. He was also thinking about how good the gold chain would complement your already beautiful skin tone. Trying to come up with any reason he could to get you that necklace, he settled on your birthday that was in two weeks.

“Can you stop moving so much?” you interrupted his thinking. Carter didn’t realize how much he was actually moving until you spoke up from the other end of the couch.

“Yeah. Sorry.” he politely apologized to you. You just smiled at him and reached out for his hand.

“What's on your mind, Bubs?” your voice was nothing but gentle, and Carter’s heart jumped to his throat. You were so beautiful. He always wanted to spoil you with gifts, but you would never let him. He just wanted to announce to the world that you were his, no one else's. Oh, how much he wanted to come home to you on his couch, where you had fallen asleep while doing homework. He just wanted to come home to you, making him a celebratory cocktail after his home game wins. Carter loved you, and he just wanted you to love him back, but he could never tell you all this.

“Just what I’m going to be getting you for your birthday.” His smile was cheeky.

“Nothing extravagant, please.” you pleaded with him, but you knew it would fall on deaf ears. Carter always went all out for your birthday. He always took you out to breakfast at the cafe where you met, then for dinner he would take you to the most expensive restaurant in Philly. Your family couldn’t usually make it all the way out to Philly just for your birthday, but Carter was brilliant company so you never really minded. If he had a game that year, you would be in the front row right next to their bench.

“You know I’m going to, and that I will not say sorry for it.” he explained and all you could do was roll your eyes, but before things could go further, you got a message that your food was being delivered. We spent the rest of the night together slightly cuddled up together watching Netflix.

The next two weeks flew by without you being able to hang out with Carter. School took up most of your time, and then you still had to go to work after you got done with school. It was always hard when your schedules didn’t match, but Carter never forgot to text you. He sent ‘good morning’, and ‘good night’ texts that made you blush. You tried not to think about what they could mean and take them at face value. You never forgot to send him your ritualistic ‘good luck’ text before every game.

Your birthday comes quickly, and to be honest you almost forgot about it. Until Carter woke you up by dragging you out of your warm, cozy bed into the cold room.

“Carter!” you yelped out, not fully awake. “It's freezing.” you shot him a small glare, but he was already five steps ahead of you because the next thing you know, a big Team Canada sweatshirt. It was so warm and you just hugged yourself until you felt you could open your eyes again. “Thank you” smiling now that you were warm and awake.

“Happy birthday beautiful.” Carter whispered into your ear, pulling you into a tight hug. Hugging him back just as tight. You stayed like that for a while. “Do you want to go in your pjs or do you want to get ready before we go to breakfast?”

“I want to get ready.” you whispered back. Carter nodded, knowing that it would be another hour before you left, but could find himself to be annoyed. Whenever you got ready while he was over, he always sat in on your bed, sometimes watching you do your hair or makeup. You got ready much faster than Carter thought you would. When he saw you his mouth dropped, dressed in your best pair of jeans, that hugged your ass in the best places, and your pink top that had embroidered daisies, that showed more boob than normal. Finishing the look with your best casual heel. You look perfect.

“Does this look alright?” you sweat out.

“I know something that will make it look better.” Carter professed. It surprised you, not expecting him to say that. Watching him as we went over to where he sat all the presents he got for you. Bringing back a smaller, black bag that had wrapping tissue sticking out the top. He handed it to you, and you opened it swiftly. Inside, you found a square box and pulled it out. In a flash you opened the box, and there sat the necklace you were eyeballing weeks ago.

“Oh my god. You didn’t.” you rhetorically asked. But there it was, the gold necklace with an authentic birthstone dangling off of the chain.

“Here, let me put it on you.” Carter held his hand out for you to drop the necklace into. You said nothing, because you really didn’t know what to say. You felt his fingers grace the back of your neck, effectively getting goosebumps. He tapped your shoulder when he was done, and you turned around, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You really didn’t have to. You being here with me is enough.” you professed. You never wanted to make him feel as if you were using him for his money.

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” Carter explained to you. All you could do in the moment was hug him again. “How about we go to breakfast now?”

Going back to the cafe was something you did often with Carter. The cafe quickly became your meeting place. The coffee was amazing; the memories held there were even better, and the aesthetic was gorgeous. The entire day was just amazing. Carter spoiled you. You tried to get him to let you pay for some things, but he completely refused. After being out for hours, you both agreed to go back to your apartment and just chill until dinner.

You were watching some romantic comedy, when it truly hit you how much you loved Carter. You thought it was just some stupid crush, but while you were in your head you realized that you never wanted him to leave your side. Also, realizing how much it hurt seeing him with another woman, romantically. You weren’t even paying attention to the movie anymore, and you knew Carter wasn’t into these movies; only watching them because you liked them.

“Is it almost time to get dinner?” you pondered out loud. “I’m starving.” you exaggerated by throwing your head back and rubbed your stomach.

“Yeah, we can start driving there.” Carter said after looking down at his watch.

“Yay!” you playfully cheered. Making grabby hands at him to help you off the couch. You had changed into a mid-length black dress, about twenty minutes ago. You felt, and looked, amazing. Carter grabbed your hands and pulled you off the couch, giving your forehead a small kiss, before he turned around and walked out the front door. Why did he have to do that? The small, friendly kiss made butterflies burst out in your stomach.

The drive was fun. Carter let you take over the speaker, and you had a mini dance party in his passenger seat. You would catch him looking over at you every so often, but you just kept dancing and singing to your favorite songs. Towards, the end of the drive you got him singing along! Laughing most of the time, but still kind of singing; you counted that as a win.

Carter pulled his car into the parking lot and ran over to open your car door. You gave him a thank you and took his hand while he walked you to the door. The hostess complemented your necklace as she sat you at your table, and you complemented her hair. Carter noticed you playing with the necklace as you were thinking about what to get.

“You look gorgeous, tonight.” Carter proclaimed, and you gave him a skeptical look. “No you really do, y/n.” Before you could answer, your server came to get your drink orders. You couldn’t help but notice that she was asking Carter all the questions and was barely looking at you. Even when you voiced what you wanted, she still wouldn’t give you the time of day. You decided to just let it go until she started out right flirting with him. Carter was too nice for his own good. He didn’t want to just tell the girl off, but he wanted to go back to talking to you. So you took matters into your own hands.

“Um, excuse me. My boyfriend and I would love to get back to our dinner. If you don’t mind.” your tone was nothing but bitchy, but you didn’t care.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks.” she curtly said in response. You just hummed in acknowledgement.

“What was that?” Carter asked, and you just shrugged. He dropped it when he realized he would get anything from you. Your drinks came back fast, and you were now ordering. She still didn’t give you any acknowledgment, but at last she wasn’t flirting with Carter. Dinner went by smoothly after you both got some wine into your systems. Soon you were back to your giggly self. Not wanting some server ruining your birthday dinner with Carter. The food was amazing, and the wine was even better. He kept to one glass, but you kept ordering yourself another one.

“Can we go back to your place? I like to look out the windows at night.” you drunkenly confessed. Carter knew you loved looking out his floor to ceiling windows, especially at night, because you could see all the lights from the buildings that surrounded his.

“If that's what you want.” he proclaimed, and your smile widened. Carter paid and walked you back to the car where he held the door open for you. The car drive was way more chill on the way back to his apartment. He knew he didn’t need to stop at your apartment, because you had stuff at his. Carter loved feeling as if he was driving you home after a long day. He reveled in the idea that he was driving you to your shared home. He helped a sleepy you out of the car and into the elevator. Your head was on his shoulder the entire way up with his arm wrapped around his waist.

It shocked you every time you walked into his apartment. The city lights that floated in were nothing less than beautiful. “Do you want a change of clothes?” Carter asked from behind you.

“Yes, please.” With that, he left to grab one of his old shirts and sweatpants. When he came back, he saw you swaying while looking out of the windows. “Don’t you ever wonder what every one below is doing? Do you ever wonder about their lives?”

“Sometimes.” he simply answered and handed you his clothes. With a thank you, you left to go change in his bathroom. You didn’t know what got into you at the restaurant. If Carter was into her, you should have just let them have their moment. But you did what you did, and you were going to have to face it, eventually. You quietly left the bathroom and found Carter looking out the windows. You just nuzzled your body into his arms; letting him hold you while you both stared out into the bustling Philly streets. “What happened at the restaurant?”

“She was flirting with you.” You mumbled out.

“Were you jealous?” he asked

“Yes,” you signed out “I was.”

“Why?” Carter countered.

“Because I love you.” you professed softly.

“I love you too.” he gently pushed your chin up, so you were looking him in the eyes. Then he leaned down and kissed your lips. You kissed back just as hard and didn’t stop until you couldn’t breathe. “Happy birthday.” You just laughed, because of course that's what Carter Hart had to say after kissing you.

“I never want to stop kissing you.” he admitted

“So don’t.” you professed, and he never did. You both spent the night tangled in each other's arms, exchanging kisses until you were truly sleepy.

finished.

[yolkyeomie]

The Moon Is Beautiful | Kim Seungmin

summary — shooting your arrow into everyone’s heart had been so easy until you accidentally shot it into his

word count — 2.7k words

pairing — seungmin x gender neutral!reader (I tried to make it gender neutral,,,, let me know it’s not tho!!)

genre — fluff, high school au, CLIFF HANGER

disclaimer — this is for stayhaven’s valentine event so I hope everyone enjoys what I brought to the table :D !! sorry this is so??? messy and dumb and late LMAO just enjoy it for what it is 🧍🏾‍♀️

tags — @fluffyskzclub

You were bold and that’s what people liked about you. Well, bold in the sense that you had no problem doing things for others. Whenever someone was too shy, too anxious, too frightened to take charge you’d always be the one to do so instead.

It was a habit from when you were a child that only continued to grow and cultivate itself as a primary piece of your personality. You hated the amount of hesitation others took when a job needed to be done, watching people squirm and excuse themselves from doing such minuscule tasks was idiotic in your eyes. So you had always taken it upon yourself to offer up yourself as a substitution, to save both you and your peers from the potential disappointment or embarrassment that a situation called for.

Somehow everyone slowly caught wind of your selfless acts and they began to flock to your side in an attempt to gain your assistance. The issues usually were rather small: presenting in group projects, asking questions for others, ordering food, starting conversation, anything relatively close to those. You didn’t mind either, you never truly got sick of helping those who couldn’t help themselves.

Sure, there were times when people you’d rather not interact with seeked your assistance, but the mere fact that they had to swallow their pride and come to you was enough for you to continue without any second thoughts.

That was until you became the residential high school “Cupid”. It was a one time request, a girl you had known in one of your classes had scurried you to you in a rush and asked for your services and you agreed. She had beens a rather quiet figure amongst the usual rowdiness of the other students so one could only imagine how loud you cooed at her when she asked you to deliver a love letter for her.

So you did as asked, finding the lucky person who had such a sweet secret admirer and delivering the letter in a small yet endearing manner.

Not long after you had given the love letter to them, the two had gotten together almost immediately and you were thrilled. But somehow instead of the focus being put on the new couple within the school halls, it was on you? It had immediately spread that you were the one to give the letter and helped them get together and somehow that equated to you becoming Cupid.

After the occurrence that should have only been a one time thing, it became all anyone ever asked of you. Every few days out of the week you’d have a multitude of students rushing into your classroom when they got the chance and begged you to send their love letters to their crushes.

You’d try to decline for the sake of your own sanity but watching them grovel at your foot and beg was a little… uncomfortable to say the least.

That’s how you became the Cupid of your class, your grade, your entire school, and accidentally made the old childish tradition of sending letters to confirm a mutual attraction popular.

There’s only been two people so far that your Cupid’s arrow never seemed to notch though, no matter how many love letters were shoved their way. One of those being the boy that was approaching you now, Hwang Hyunjin.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin exclaimed, frankly waving his arms in the air and his eyes sparklingly with pure glee when he finally caught your attention. You couldn’t help but smile back at him, his happiness being contagious if you had to be completely honest. You could see why he often received the love letters you were meant to deliver.

Though your eyes immediately caught sight of the pink envelope in his hand, the sight of the object was rather familiar in your time as the resident ‘Cupid’ of your school.

“I can’t believe my eyes,” you jeered, a smug smirk beginning to stretch across your face as he approached you. “Hwang Hyunjin, the infamous lover boy of this generation, handing me a love letter? Tell me, who is the lucky person? I’ve got to know, this is the biggest news of the century!”

The boy rolled his eyes at your teasing, holding the letter away from your gremlin hand as he spoke. “Haha, that’s so funny but no! It’s not mine.”

You involuntarily whine at his response, snatching the letter out of his hand with one big hop and collapsing into the desk. “What do you mean it’s not yours?” You question him scanning the letter up and down for confirmation. It was a nice rosy pink shade and smelled just like lavender, as if it had been sprayed with the specific scent. It was shut tight with a heart stamp placed on it like a wax seal and even had pretty neat hand writing at the top that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You did, however, know that the handwriting belonged to the boy that stood right in front of you denying ownership of the letter. “This is your handwriting, how is this not yours?” You argued, “and don’t try to lie and say it’s not, I’ve seen your essay drafts enough to know what your handwriting looks like.”

The boy winced at the thought, quickly reminiscing on the memories of the two of you working together on projects before returning to reality. “I know it’s my handwriting, but it’s not mine— the letter, I mean! I was asked to write everything down because the sender wanted to remain anonymous.”

“Anonymous?” You repeated making sure you heard him correctly. You searched the envelope for any sort of signature and lo and behold, there was none that you could find. All that was left on the outside of the card was a yellow sticky note with a locker number written on it.

This was… a first for you. Usually when people asked you to deliver the confessions of love to the receiver, they wanted their name mentioned so that they wouldn’t get you confused with someone else. Even then, just in case, they always had their name written somewhere on their envelopes to ensure that the receiver knew exactly who they would be responding to. No one had ever asked you to anonymously deliver letters.

“What? Are anonymous letters out of your requirements?” Hyunjin questioned, playing with a strand of his silky black hair as he grinned at you.

You shook your head immediately, though struggling to release your gaze from the mysterious letter. “No, not at all. It’s just… new I guess? I’m so used to knowing who exactly I’m going to and who I’m delivering for. It’s weird.”

“Why? Because you’re no longer in the loop?” You nearly jump out of your skin as you turn around, the hair on your neck standing straight up like a cat’s. The doggish smile of Seungmin stared back at you, a teasing glint in his eyes as he took the envelope out of your hands. “Wow Y/N, I never took you to the nosy type… but I guess being the school’s Stupid Cupid changes you.”

This was the second person who’s heart you could never strike with your Cupid arrow, Kim Seungmin.

You struggle to comprehend his words, ignoring his insults as your ears immediately begin to burn in a sense of embarrassment as you bite back at him. “I’m not being nosy!” You try to convince him, taking the letter out of his hands. “I’m just not used to giving these without any background information, that’s all.”

“Does wanting background information mean you're being nosy?” The boy questioned, his light chuckle like music to your ears despite his taunting words, “your trying to poke your nose into business you have no right to be in.”

“These letters are my business,” you snap back, “I’m the one who delivers them, for free even! I should know who is sending them and who is recovering them. It just… makes sense!”

You’ve known Kim Seungmin for awhile now, you weren’t strangers at all. In fact your mothers went to school together when they were your age, so in a sense the two of you were close. But Seungmin always treated you like an annoying little sibling any second he caught, pushing whatever button he could find. You never bickered, per se, he just enjoyed making fun of you and you were very easy to make heated.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah whatever…” He shrugged off, not even noticing how much he was pushing him buttons. “Whether you like it or not you are not entitled to that kind of information. Let’s be honest there’s probably a reason that it’s not stated who is going to and who it’s coming from.” 

After a moment of thought, Hyunjin nodded in agreement. “You’re a very well-known person around the school now, they’ll be put in the spotlight just because you’re involved in their romance. They probably won’t like all that attention but still want you to deliver the letter.”

“Well…,” You trail off seeing their side of the argument. As much as he wanted to know what was going on, you do have to respect their privacy. “Ugh, I hate it when you guys make sense it makes everything less fun.”

Seungmin grinned ear to ear at your surrender, quickly shooting an off handed comment,” we’re just trying to make sure that our Stupid Cupid doesn’t get into a fight with someone because they decided to invade someone’s privacy.”

“It’s not invading privacy!” you snap back at him, beginning your daily bickering once again. You knew he was right but you’d rather jump into the ocean and let Seungmin have the last laugh. “What, I should go deliver this before class starts… And before I decide to choke you out.”

“Wise decision,” Hyunjin laughed, side eying Seungmin as you stood up from your seat. “I’m almost one hundred percent sure Seungmin wouldn’t be able to fight back anyway.”

“Hey—!” Seungmin didn’t get the chance to respond, not when Hyunjin leaped over the desk to cover his mouth and you begin dashing out of the room. As popular and close to Seungmin as Hyunjin may seem, he would always cover for you at the end of the day. Which worked out well in your favor... most of the time.

Thankfully he had held off Seungmin long for you to get away, gleefully skipping down the bright hallways with a pep in your step. It didn’t matter how many times you had to deliver a love letter to someone, whether it was anonymous or not, you’d always feel a warm feeling in your chest knowing that the feelings you held in your hand were raw and true.

And if you had to be honest? Knowing that the letter you had now was completely anonymous to keep their emotions hidden from the rest of the student body made your heart warm. Oh young love… how sweet it must be to be in love.

“One thirty-two…,” you counted to yourself, scanning the numbers written on the lockers. It didn’t take long to get where you needed to be, luckily the love letter was being delivered to someone near your own locker. You knew this hallway like the back of your hand since this is where you usually could be found.

Every so often a student would notice your presence in the area and spot the love letter in your hands, chaos soon beginning afterward. The whole hall would flare up in eager whispers and trembling hands as everyone wondered, ‘is it me? Is it my turn to get struck by your arrow?’

Their hopeful smiles would soon drop into disappointed groans when you passed them without a second thought, still searching for the anonymous receiver’s locker. Constant questions of ‘who is it this time?’ would spread across the room as you continued your search, as curious as you to figure out who was getting their heart pierced by Cupid’s arrow.

“One thirty-nine…,” you continued, blinking your eyes rapidly as you looked back from the love letter to the locker not that far from you. The sticky note attached to the letter had been addressed to locker number one forty-one and somehow you hadn’t noticed that that’s you. You're locker one forty one, that’s the one you were occupying for the school year. “Wait, what?”

You glanced from the locker number to the sticky note and it wasn’t wrong. You were at the right locker, which meant the love letter was addressed to you in the end. It really was your business after all.

“What am I supposed to do? Prick myself with my own arrow,” you joked, leaning up against the metal compartments to look a little closer at the letter in your hands. You were notoriously known for setting couples up together just by giving the confessions to them, but what were you supposed to do if you didn’t know who it was?

You didn’t mind getting into a relationship yourself, honestly you didn’t, but you didn’t know who it was from! Hyunjin gave you no clue and he didn’t even point out the fact that the locker number written on the sticky note was yours. “This makes me infuriated for some reason,” you mumble, pressing your back up against the lockers as you begin to carefully open the letter for yourself.

As soon as you opened the envelope the scent of lavender became even stronger, as if the letter itself was sprayed heavily with a lavender perfume. You also didn’t mind that though, lavender was your favorite scent for perfume. You could often be found trucking through the halls with the smell of lavender groves trailing behind you.

To the Stupid Cupid,

The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?

From,

Your Psyche.

“Stupid Cupid?” You hissed, annoyed at the teasing that could be found in the love letter. If someone was going to write you a love letter, shouldn’t they have been a little nicer to win you over? You get other couples together, but that doesn’t mean you’d be won over so easily. “How rude… there’s no need for name calling.”

This saying however, you’ve seen it before. Well, not seen, more like heard of it every so often. It was A Japanese saying that was seen as a more intimate and poetic way of confessing your love to someone.

You knew specifically because every so often you’d have other students run up to you and ask if the “the moon was beautiful, isn't it?” was a good way to ask out their long (but usually short) term crushes. No one that had ever asked you had the guts to use it since it felt like an odd way to confess but here you are now, staring at the words written on the letter addressed to you.

“Wait a minute… Stupid Cupid?” You repeated, standing up to your full height as you read over the letter again. You read it once, twice, three times, four, maybe even more before you realized that no one who simply admired you from a afar knew your nickname was Stupid Cupid, only close friends. Even then, Hyunjin had never used it as a way to address you, the words have never even fallen from his mouth and he’s one of the closest people to you.

You could already cross out him as a potential candidate anyway because you knew exactly what his handwriting was like after working with him for so long. It was even on the front and back of the envelope too, but the writing within the letter wasn’t Hyunjin’s at all. You knew it was a little too neat and legible to him. The only person with handwriting like this hand for have been…

“Hey, Stupid Cupid!” You turn your head with neck breaking speed, your eyes widening as the familiar nickname matches to the voice and face of Kim Seungmin as he walks down the hall. He waved his hands to you innocent as he caught your attention, his teasing puppy grin growing wider with every passing second as he called, “did you deliver that letter already?”

You glance down at the love letter before you look back up at him, the feeling of disbelief morphing onto your face as you blurted out without thinking. “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it, Seungmin?”

[deprough]

Wood and Worry

12/9/2020 Dincember prompt: "Let It Snow”

SFW, however there are descriptions of murder and violence after the fact.

My Dincember prompts are part of a serial story I’m telling. This is the fifth part of the story. This post won’t make sense without reading the others.

Part 1: Snowballs and Saviors Part 2: Dreams and Dangers (nsfw) Part 3: Heat and Harassment Part 4:  Fire and Fatality (depictions of violence and death)

The snow started just after sunrise, fat, heavy flakes that would have doomed the search mission if it hadn’t been for Mando. The weird thing on his back that Corrie had wondered about from time to time was a jetpack that allowed him to get an aerial view and cover more ground. She was starting to understand why the Mandalorians had such a fierce reputation. 

“They’re in the cave nearby,” Mando said as soon as the roar of his jet pack faded. 

“Good, an ambush shouldn’t be too hard, then,” Corrie said grimly. “How many?”

“Eight.” Mando’s grim announcement caused the posse members to shift nervously. That was two more than the posse, but all Corrie could think was that if they got this group, that was over half of them dead or caught.

“Are we sure this is the group that torched the jail?” Kado asked. 

“I am,” Mando replied. “I’m not sure it was all of them, but the two that I followed from the town are here.”

“Unless they surrender, kill them all,” Corrie said, drawing her blaster.

“What happens if the two who torched the jail surrender?” Mando asked.

“Then they go back to town to stand trial,” Corrie said grimly. “I hope they do.” Mando tilted his helmet in a silent question. “It’d do the townsfolk good to see them dance on a rope.”

“Then give the word, Sheriff, and we’ll get ‘em,” Mando said.

“Word,” Corrie said, and the posse rolled out.

~  *  ~  * ~

The bodies were dragged off and left for the beasts, which was no better than those animals deserved anyway. They only had one injury, thanks to Mando’s willingness to test the integrity of his armor by being the heart of the battle. 

“You okay, Osker?” Corrie asked, kneeling down next to the kid. He was technically an adult, but didn’t look it, especially when his face was almost white with pain and he was biting back tears. 

“I’ll be fine, Sheriff.” He put on a brave face but everyone knew the knife wound in his shoulder hurt. Corrie patted his hand and started to get up, but he caught her hand. “Sheriff, if… if my arm’s gonna be okay, can I be a deputy?”

Corrie smiled, even as part of her hated the sudden reminder that she’d lost one last night. The mother in her objected to the idea of sending this baby into fights. Osker wasn’t a baby though; he was a grown man, even if he was barely so. Even if she could remember when he was born. “I’d be proud to have you, once you’re better. You take care.”

He swelled with pride. “Yes, Sheriff.” Then he let the other men get him up on his gurt for the long, painful ride back to town. 

Koda turned to her. “You sure you’ll be okay out here, Corrie?”

“I’ve got Mando,” she said, “I think we’ll be alright.” She hadn’t meant it quite the way it came out, and Koda raised an eyebrow. “Anyone who comes back to this camp tonight is in for a nasty surprise,” she quickly added, ignoring the blush trying to stain her cheeks. 

She stood in the snow, watching four of the six people she’d ridden out with go home. Glancing over at Mando with his floating kid, she said, “So, how about you get some wood and I’ll find some tinder?”

Literally eating her foot wasn’t an option so she met the black T of his visor and didn’t show her discomfort. It’s what Dad would have done, though she didn’t think her father was capable of unintentional sexual innuendos like she was managing. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I got it.”

The second he’d turned away, Corrie allowed herself a full-body cringe over the matter. When she was done, she went through the prisoner’s meager belongings. They’d clearly been stealing from the locals; Corrie recognized all the tools and clothing as being Zalzus-made. She identified one of the scarves; it had been Sunga’s favorite, and Corrie’s clenched her teeth as she carefully set it aside to take back with them.

She picked some yarn from frayed woolen gloves for tinder, and dug the wet pieces of wood out of the firepit. During the fight, someone had kicked snow onto the fire, and now it was up to her to salvage it. Getting out flint and tinder, she started the fight to get it lit again.

“Here, let me,” Mando offered as he dropped an armful of wood next to the pit. Corrie was more than happy to let someone else do this crappy job. She handed him the flint box, only to have him extend his arm and send a gout of flame that effortlessly lit the tinder.

She stared at him. He looked down at the flint box, then back at her. “Cheater,” she told him.

“It isn’t cheating if you win the fight,” he told her. 

“All’s fair in love and war?” she shot back, then wanted to swallow her foot again. 

“In war. Wouldn’t know much about in love,” he said levelly.

“So you don’t love your son?” she asked sharply.

His helmet pulled back in surprise. “That’s not what you were asking about.”

“That’s not what you thought I was asking about.” She shrugged. “Love’s love. There’s different kinds, and it comes out in different ways, but it’s rarely fair either way.”

“So kids aren’t fair in love?” he asked, his voice curious.

Corrie laughed. “Mando, kids are the worst about love. They’ll take it all, but they have to be almost adults before they truly understand how to give it.” He glanced at the child, and she said, “That’s a deep look.”

“You can’t see my face,” he protested.

“I don’t need to,” she said. “Something I said hit a nerve or provoked somethin’.”

He turned from her and she shrugged. They were silent as they got the gurts hidden in the back of the cave with water and food. Then he went and got them more water while she opened jarred stew and started heating it. 

“The kid’s fifty.” His remark, delivered as he casually sent down the water jug, made her take another look at the child. Mando added, “I just thought, if you’re right, then I’ll never know him when he’s capable of giving love.”

Behind him, snow started to fall in a white curtain that blocked the remaining light of the day. “That a problem?” Corrie asked, leaning forward to stir the stew.

“Does it matter if it is?” he asked.

“You don’t like to answer questions, do you?” she asked.

“Not invasive ones.” 

“Then tell me to shut up,” Corrie told him, peering up at him. “So have you figured out how you’re eating yet?”

His shoulders drooped a bit. “No.”

“Great. I’ll just wait outside for a bit.” Corrie half-expected a protest, something about how she shouldn’t get soaked just for him, and no, no, he’d go stand in the snow to eat. 

“Thank you, Sheriff.” His simple acceptance was a pleasant surprise, and Corrie found her opinion of his shifting yet again. He couldn’t seem to go a moment without changing her views on him. 

He took one of the seats left by the prisoners as the food finished warming. They sat in silence, then Corrie ate while Mando fed the baby. 

When she was done, she said, “Hollar when you’re done.” He nodded as he placed the child in the bassinet and reached for the closure. “Naw, give me the control and let him follow me. Get some fresh air.”

He hesitated. “We’re in an open cave. He’s got fresh air.

“We won’t be far away,” she said. “Literally just out of line of sight. It’s better than him being locked up in the bassinet, right?” 

Mando looked at the baby, who looked at him. Rising, he checked to make sure his hat and gloves were on correctly, then tucked the blanket around him more tightly and handed her the controls. Aware of the trust he was silently showing in her, she walked just out of sight of the entrance and no further, pulling the bassinet toward her so she could gently rock it. The kid looked alarmed for a moment, then smiled and settled back to watch the snow fall.

Her comm crackled and then Koda said, “Boss, you read me?”

“Yeah, Koda, I read ya,” she said, wondering what was happening now.

“Boss, some of the teens made their own posse and headed up into the eastern hills before the snow started,” Koda told her. “I followed as far as I could, but the snow’s gettin’ bad.”

“Dank ferrik,” she growled. “Who was it?”

“Scerr Hamne, Lindi Jissard, and Kuna Tane. They took Kern’s speederbikes.”

Corrie tucked her hair behind her ears, since she couldn’t rake her fingers through it like she normally did when agitated. Silently cursing idiot kids, she said, “Lemme guess, they took the high performance ones.”

“Got it in one. Kern says the bikes should have frozen up already.”

“Damn kids. Has Kern gone after them?”

“No, but Lindi’s not going to be able to sit for a month when we find her, and is probably grounded until she’s dead,” Kota answered. “Can’t say I blame her father. Kern loves his speederbikes.” 

“We have to find them before he can ruin her life,” Corrie replied. “I think Mando and I are stuck up here until morning, at minimum. We’ll join the hunt tomorrow.”

“That’s what I figured, boss. See ya tomorrow. Stay warm.”

But not too warm, Corrie thought with a flush. “See ya tomorrow. Have the search party ready.”

When Mando called her in, he took one look at her face and guessed, “Trouble?” 

“Been nothin’ but since that kriffin’ ship crashed,” she said wearily. “Libu used to be quiet and safe, and now…” She pulled off her hat and ran her fingers through her thick curls. Sometimes, she forgot she’d cut it back when she’d taken the job, and got a little surprise when she ran out of hair before she thought she would. Tonight was one of those nights when she came up short, and wondered if she really had the right to be out here, doing this job.

“Hutts happen.” 

Corrie looked at the bounty hunter. “Is that a joke?”

He paused and then said, “Was it funny?”

“I… I don’t know,” she said, reaching out to the bassinet and rocking the kid again. He cooed softly. “A little, I guess.”

“I’m not good at jokes.” He said it simply, and she wished she could see his face, to read what emotions were crossing it. 

“No,” Corrie said with faux shock, opting to try a little humor herself. “Really? It’s been a laugh a minute since I met you.” 

The second it was out of her mouth, she realized he might feel mocked, but before she could withdraw her statement, he said, “That’s me, Funny Man Mando.”

She chuckled. “Funny Man Mando, savior of Libu. I think that’s what we’ll put on the statue we erect to you.” 

He visibly winced. “You’re local law enforcement, you’re supposed to take all the credit after I leave town. Besides, you’d make a prettier statue than me.”

Which left her so flustered that she couldn’t come up with a retort, and it had distracted her from the problem with the teens. As a bonus, it meant they spent the rest of the night in near-blessed silence. Better than eating her foot every few minutes.

[kumeko]

Title: earth angel

A/N: For @desibrucewayne, for the @dc-secret-santa. You wanted Talia/Bruce, Cassandra, Damian, and time travel. I hope I delivered on it!

…

…

…

…

Damian grimaced at the sand at his feet. His feet were sinking into the soft, loosely held together sand dune. Around him was more endless sand, a golden yellow as far as the eye could see. He glanced at the hot sun distastefully, his skin already starting to burn mere minutes after appearing on the soft sands.

 The soft sands of a desert. Damian was in a desert. This was no hallucination or illusion. He was in the desert. And apparently in full Robin costume. At least he wasn’t alone; Cassandra Cain stood next to him and judging by her body language, she was just as confused as he was.

 How could they have fucked up this badly? His brow furrowed as he considered it all. “How did we get here?”

“I am not sure.” Cassandra nonchalantly took off her cowl and shook her head. She ran a hand through her sweaty locks with a frown. The costumes were able to handle temperature changes but nothing this extreme. “Weren’t we meeting Stephanie?”

 “Stephanie?” Damian closed his eyes, trying to remember what had just happened. It was impossible to forget Stephanie’s blinding purple uniform, as ugly now as it had been when they’d first met. As Batgirl, she’d waved to them from a roof, gesturing for them to come closer. Behind her, he had spotted a blue-skinned boy approaching her. “There was some kind of alien with her.”

 “Alien?” Cassandra blinked before her lips parted in a soft ‘oh’. “Klarion was with her. And you attacked him.”

 “I thought he was attacking her,” Damian defended himself, crossing his arms.

 “He wouldn’t do that.” Cassandra paused. “Usually, at least.” She gestured at their surroundings. “That explains this—he has teleportation powers.”

 “Teleportation?” Damian ground his teeth. He hated magic. There was no good way to counter or negate it. “Can that nitwit teleport us back?”

 “Probably.” Cassandra rubbed her neck. “Though that depends on his mood.”

 “So we have to rely on Stephanie to make him do it?” His eyebrow twitched. That idiotic beam of sunlight didn’t know how to threaten anyone. Then again, if there was someone who was persistently annoying, it was her. Maybe Klarion would summon them back just to get her to shut up. He pulled out his communicator. It would be faster to just call the Batcave and get a helicopter. “I’ll just send for—it’s not sending any messages.” He tapped the screen but that didn’t change the status. “It’s not connecting to the satellite.”

 “That’s odd. Bruce planned for locations like this.” After considering it for a moment, Cassandra pushed her hair back, tying it in a ponytail. “We have to find shelter. It isn’t good to be out like this.”

 “I know that.” Damian snorted derisively, pocketing the communicator. If there was one good thing about their teleportation, it was that he recognized the area. “One of my grandfather’s old bases is nearby. We can wait there.”

 “I do not want to fight all of his men,” Cassandra frowned.

 “It’s abandoned,” Damian answered, already heading toward it. “It won’t be a problem.”

 -x-

 “I thought you said it was abandoned,” Cassandra whispered as she peeked over a sand dune.

 “It’s supposed to be,” Damian snapped back as he stared at the definitely-not-abandoned base. There were jeeps and camels leaving it. People were walking in and out at steady intervals. Hell, there was even a patrol.

 Someone had taken over his grandfather’s base.

 He wasn’t sure if he should want revenge or want to laugh at the old fool for leaving the place so vulnerable.

 “That doesn’t change anything,” Damian continued, memorizing the patrol pattern. Fortunately, the employees here were incompetent, leaving gaping holes in their security. Perhaps a lesser man would fail to find a way, but this was child’s play for two would-be-assassins. “If anything, this will make sending a message easier.”

 “We will have to be careful not to be spotted.” Cassandra pulled her cowl back over her head. The jaggedly-pieced together Batgirl outfit was truly frightening in the dark alleys of Gotham. In the bright sunlight of the desert, it was just extremely out of place. “There is nowhere to hide the bodies.”

 “You’re wearing all black,” he pointed out snidely.

 “That is not a problem,” she replied instantly, already getting to her feet. “I can handle that much.”

 -x-

 “This is strange,” Damian muttered as they slowly stalked the hallways of the base. It had been almost child’s play to get in and they didn’t even have to take out a single guard to secure their entry.

 That said, there was something truly unsettling about how Cassandra managed to disappear while they snuck in. He should have been able to spot her the entire time. It was black on gold.

 “What is?” Cassandra asked, slipping to a wall and peeking around the corner. There were many intersections and bends in the hallway. Occasionally they’d pass by a stone chamber filled with food or other supplies. So far, there were no signs of a communications room.

 “This place.” Damian gestured at the rigid stone walls. They all looked perfectly cut and clean. “The walls look like they were made recently. They haven’t been used in years.”

 “They cleaned up?” Cassandra suggested, poking her head into yet another dark chamber. “There’s only ammunition in this one.”

 “But there’s no way to hide that much decay—” Damian stopped talking. Behind him, he could hear footsteps echoing through the hall, quiet and intimidating. “Someone’s coming.”

 “Hide,” Cassandra urged, grabbing his hand and dragging him into the chamber.

 “We can take him,” Damian grunted, but he reluctantly crouched behind a barrel of guns. With bated breath, he waited as the footsteps grew louder and louder, a large shadow appearing on the walls. With the only light torches, the primitive cave felt more primal than it ought to be. Finally, when the shadow took over the entire wall, a man appeared in front of their chamber.

 Batman, Damian thought, his eyes growing wide. Father.

 There was no mistaking that cowl, though the design was an old one. Even the build fit correctly. “It’s not bad enough they’re taking grandfather’s base, they’re also copying Father?” he growled, pulling out a dagger.

 “Wait.” Cassandra grabbed his hand, stilling it. “Not yet.”

 “And let that insult walk by?” Damian hissed. He yanked his hand free and quickly slinked off to follow the imposter.

 “Damian!” Cassandra quickly chased after him. Or rather, considering that they didn’t want to alert anyone, they both quietly slinked down the hall. The torchlights flickered and Damian hung back as far as he could, trying not to get caught before he interrogated and slit the imposter’s throat.

 Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to wait long. The copycat was coming to a stop before a chamber. All Damian had to do was follow him inside and no one would be the wiser.

 Cassandra caught up to him as he hid around a corner. Don’t she signed, glaring at him.

 Watch me he signed back, watching as the imposter stood in front of a door.  

 After a moment, his mother appeared at the door and Damian bit back a gasp. When had she—that explained the base’s use, but she had been dismantling Ra’s bases the last he’d heard. What was she doing here? And why did she look so different? As his thoughts derailed, she stood on her toes and pulled off Batman’s cowl. It was only a profile, but Damian recognized him immediately.

 That was Bruce Wayne.

 A younger Bruce Wayne. A younger Talia Al Ghul.

 He had gone to the past.

 -x-

 “This is the past,” Damian stated, if only to hear it aloud. His parents were in the chamber down the hall. Was he even born at this point? All of this because a blue demon couldn’t control his powers properly. His hand curled into a fist. When he got back, he was going to beat that demon until he was black and blue.

 “It seems so. That makes things…difficult,” Cassandra replied. An understatement, truly. “I do not know if Klarion can bring us back.”

 “Why can’t he?” Damian growled, pacing back and forth in the ammunition chamber they’d hid in earlier. They needed a place to think, to comprehend, but perhaps they should have picked another. His fingers were getting an urge to grab several of the daggers here.

 “Stephanie said he could not control his powers properly,” Cassandra replied slowly, rubbing her neck. She sat cross-legged on a barrel, watching him. “We will have to find another magician. Maybe Zatanna can help.”

 “Her?” Damian frowned. He had never been overly impressed with her work. Then again, none of the ‘heroes’ were adept magicians as far as he was concerned. Perhaps he should have stuck with his mother, after all.

 His mother.

 The image of her embracing Bruce flashed across his mind and involuntarily, he glanced at the direction of her chambers.

 “She can connect us with others.” Cassandra leapt off the barrel. “I will find a way to contact her. You find a vehicle.”

 “You don’t order me around,” Damian snapped but it was too late, Cassandra had already disappeared down the hall. He clicked his tongue as he rolled his eyes. And people complained about his communication skills.

 Still, there wasn’t a flaw with her plan. Even if Zatanna could teleport them, it was better if they didn’t stay here. He wasn’t sure if they’d accidentally contact his parents and change the course of history. Change the course of his existence. He would just have to steal one of the jeeps he knew his grandfather kept out here.

 Quickly, he snuck to the chamber’s exit and peeked outside. The coast was clear, as usual. It was no wonder his grandfather’s plans failed so spectacularly, if this was the skill his henchman showed. From his memory of the layout, the jeeps were kept two floors below. He’d have to access the stairwell to reach them discretely.

 Damian glanced to his left one more time, to his mother’s chambers.

 He should go.

 He should go.

 He turned left.

 -x-

 Love was blind, Dick had declared once.

 Damian finally understood what he meant. His parents were blind. Utterly, completely blind. He was mere meters away from them, hiding in a darkened corner of his mother’s chambers, and somehow neither Batman nor Talia had noticed him.

 It was impossible.

 He was never going to fall in love.

 Yet, despite that, he couldn’t leave the room. His parents were sitting on the balcony, eating dinner on a small round table. It looked so informal. Bruce was holding Talia’s hand as she talked, a small smile on his face. He looked light, unburdened. Talia leaned closer, a coy expression as she gently swirled wine in her glass.

 Damian watched, transfixed. He didn’t know what to make of this sight, of this woman who was not his mother, this man who was not his father.

 Of this relationship that no longer existed.

 -x-

 Damian whirled the keys around his finger as he stood next the jeep.

 “You weren’t spotted?” True to form, Cassandra reappeared next to him, holding an old school radio.

 “I took care of it.” He jabbed a thumb at the wall. Three of his grandfather’s followers were knocked out, bound and gagged against the wall. “You can tell Dick I didn’t kill anyone.”

 “I knew you wouldn’t.” Cassandra smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder. Damian tried not to feel too pleased about it. Swiping the keys, she headed to the jeep. “Let’s go.”

 “I could drive,” he grumbled but he went to the other side of the jeep anyways. “You contacted Zatanna?”

 “Not while we’re here,” Cassandra replied. The jeep hummed to life as she turned on the ignition and she winced. It was a sound they couldn’t muffle. “Ra’s might monitor it.”

 “I doubt he was wise enough to set that up,” Damian sniped, still utterly disappointed by the lackluster guards in the area.

 “Don’t underestimate your grandfather.” Cassandra slowly crept out of the garage, keeping the lights low.

 “Maybe when he proves himself.” Damian glanced back as they quietly rolled out of the compound, in the direction of his mother’s chambers.

 He knew the story well enough, of his mother’s lies, of his father’s fears. It was a story that would be replayed now.

 Yet, he hadn’t known his parents’ joy. His parents’ love. They looked happy, truly happy, for that one meal and while he was never one to think of what-ifs, they haunted his mind now. If he had revealed himself, preventing his mother’s lies, how would it all have changed? Would they have stayed together? Would their relationship change?

 Would he have changed?

 No, there was no need to dwell on it. Just like the desert around him, the possibilities were vast. Damian was who he was now, and he didn’t intend to change that.

 “I’ll call Zatanna,” he said, fiddling with the radio. The sooner they got out of here, the sooner he could put it all out of his mind.

[applepiewinchesters]

Fatal (Aziraphale x Reader)

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: Angst, Sad sweet bean angel

Prompt: (I combined two requests because they were very similar, hope that whoever requested them does not mind, thank you) You’re sick, really sick, and you haven’t told Aziraphale or Crowley about it because you can’t think of the right way to tell them. Crowley doesn’t exactly like you taking up all his angel’s time, so he’s a bit bitter towards you most days, finally, you reach your breaking point and tell him, and Aziraphale in the process, how he’ll have his angel all to himself soon enough.

 It was a bad day. Most days for a few weeks had been bad, but you’ve been managing to hide the pain you constantly felt, and the weakness you’ve come to get used to.

You were surprised Aziraphale, nor Crowley, had picked up on the fact that you were sick, it seemed obvious to you some days, but it’s possible they thought you were tired. No one ever said they were the most competent angel and demon to walk the earth.

Telling Aziraphale was probably going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, he really truly loved you, maybe more than his extensive book collection. You didn’t want to imagine the pained, hurt expression that would ruin his angelic features.

You shook the thoughts away, coming back into the main area of the bookshop with mugs of tea for the three of you, when you handed Aziraphale his, he smiled, leaning forward to softly kiss your lips.

On the other hand, when you handed Crowley his mug, he said, “Let’s hope you made it right this time.”

Ignoring the demon, you went and hopped up, with a little effort, onto the desk Aziraphale was sitting at, watching him comb through a recent book he’d acquired, if you remembered correctly, it was from the 16th century.

It was after a few minutes that Crowley groaned, “Do you really have to be here if you’re just going to sit there staring at him?”

He was talking about you, obviously, you really didn’t know what it was, but ever since you two had met you’d become civil enemies, you sometimes tolerated each other’s company, other times you spat insults back and forth until Aziraphale finally stopped you both.

“Crowley, you know Y/N is welcome here whenever she likes, and you are as well, you two are just going to have to learn to get along at some point,” Aziraphale spoke, turning to give Crowley a pointed look.

“But she’s always here, we barely ever talk anymore angel, everything is about you and this little human,” Crowley spat out.

You were gripping your mug tightly, trying to hold your tongue, you were rather tired today, you hadn’t slept much because of the pain, and Crowley’s words honestly stung a bit more that usual.

“Dear boy, we’ve had plenty of time to spend with each other, you’re the only one I’m hung around consistently for the past six thousand years,” Aziraphale argued.

“Well, the last six thousand years were better without her around,” Crowley said, obvious disdain in his voice.

That was it.

You slammed your mug down onto the desk, hopping off and marching over to where the demon stood, “Then you’ll be very happy to know that I won’t be around much longer to be such a bother, you’ll have your angel all to yourself again soon enough!” you shouted, hot tears beginning to drip down your cheeks.

Aziraphale stood from the desk, pulling off his spectacles, a concerned look on his face, “What do you mean love?” he asked.

Shit.

Sighing, you turned towards your angel, trying to wipe at the tears that just kept coming, “I-I’m sick… I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t know how to say it,” you sobbed.

“Sick?” Aziraphale asked, tilting his head to the side.

You nodded, “Cancer, stage four, the doctor said it was too far along, fatal,” you spoke, your voice hoarse, “that’s why I’ve been so tired, everything hurts all the time.”

You could see in Aziraphale’s face that his heart had just broke at your words, he seemed speechless. Reaching out, you grabbed him, wrapping him up in a hug as you sobbed into his chest, you were sort of coming to the realization that you were dying, you weren’t going to come back, and you would have to leave your angel behind.

Crowley on the other hand felt like absolute shit, he really had no reason to hate you, Aziraphale was his best friend, but he loved you more than anything, and him being with someone was bound to happen eventually. He would really need to learn to share the angel.

“I-I’m sorry, I need a minute,” you said, pulling away from Aziraphale and walking quickly to the back room, slamming the door shut behind you.

It was silent between the angel and the demon. Aziraphale sat down in the closest chair, burying his head in his hands, when his shoulders started to shake as he cried, Crowley could feel his guilt start to worsen.

You really did mean the world to Aziraphale, Crowley was just rude to you because, well, it’d just been him and the angel for the longest time, and now here you were taking up most of the time Crowley usually spent with him.

But you were such a sweet person, he could see it in your face every time he spat an insult at you that it hurt, but he kept doing it, he was demon after all. You were still kind to him though, getting him tea when you got it for yourself and Aziraphale, inviting him along on dates (even though he always declined), even making sure to order him food when you and Aziraphale got take out, even though Crowley didn’t eat much.

For fuck’s sake, he was such a prick.

Crowley hurried towards the back room, he had to help somehow, he couldn’t see his best friend like this, and he knew Aziraphale would lose himself once you were really gone.

He knocked softly on the door, he could hear you crying inside.

After a moment the door opened and you stood there, eyes rimmed with red, face wet with tears, “Come to brag?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Crowley shook his head, pushing past you into the room, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, unsure of what to say at first.

“I just…I just wanted to say I’m sorry, there’s no reason I should treat you the way that I do,” Crowley said.

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock,” you spat back.

“Truly, I’m sorry,” Crowley told you, he wasn’t lying, you could tell when he was.

“Well, sorry isn’t really going to fix anything now,” you said, wiping at your eyes.

Aziraphale appeared in the doorway, he looked so heartbroken, and knowing it was your fault only made you more upset.

But he wasn’t angry, he didn’t yell, he just strode over to you, wrapping you up in a hug, “I’ll help you get through this, whatever you need, I’m there,” he spoke softly.

You laughed a bit, pulling away, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I should’ve told you weeks ago,” you said.

“How long have you known?” Aziraphale asked.

“A few months…,” you said quietly, making Aziraphale sigh and kiss your forehead.

“How much longer do you have?” he asked this time.

“Um, I don’t know, could be weeks, could be months, no one knows exactly,” you shrugged, looking down.

“For hell’s sake,” Crowley suddenly said, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from Aziraphale. “Stay very still.”

Crowley put his hands on either side of your face, closing his eyes, you did the same, not really sure of what was happening.

Put as you all stood there silently, you could physically feel yourself grow less tired, stronger, you didn’t feel nauseous like usual. It only took about a minute before you finally felt normal again.

When Crowley let go of you, you opened your eyes, “What did you do?” you asked, obviously confused.

“Healed you, angels can’t intervene in the normal cycle of human life, but demons can, less people going to heaven,” Crowley shrugged, like it was no big deal.

“I’m fine?” you asked, a feeling of elation spreading through your body.

“Yes, completely, long happy life ahead,” Crowley said, smiling.

You shocked the demon when you reached out and hugged him tightly, “Thank you, thank you so much!” you said happily.

“I-It was nothing, more for angel than anything else,” Crowley muttered. When you pulled away from the hug it was Aziraphale’s turn, he quickly wrapped the demon into a huge hug.

Crowley was obviously uncomfortable with all the affection as he gently peeled the angel off of him, “It was nothing, really,” he told Aziraphale, “just saw how much she means to you.”

Aziraphale had tears in his eyes as he spoke, “I’ll never be able to thank you enough,” he said, walking back over to you and hugging you tightly, pressing his lips against yours.

“Thank me at the wedding,” Crowley muttered, leaving the room, too much love, too little space.

A/N: Sorry I didn’t post anything, been having writers block. I’ve got three more imagines to write and then requests will be open again! Maybe send me some fluff this time, haha, I’ve been writing too much angst, I did ask for it though and you guys definitely delivered! Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! Love you all! ~ Sara :)

[savage-rhi]

Sky of Atoms: Death Stranding Fanfic Ch. 5

GENE 3.0

“C’mon Dawkins, keep it up!” Gene heard one of her coworkers shout towards her as she began loading more scraps into the incinerator. Bits of cargo and packages that couldn’t be recycled had a first class ride to hell itself at Brisk HARPY. Gene was sweating like she had been trapped in a sauna for hours, minus feeling refreshed and restored after the fact. She stopped briefly, wiping off the sweat that creased into her brow before shoveling another large pile into the open flames. Gene hated it when she got recycling duty. Sure, she could do the work no problem but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. Not to mention she was getting fed up with her partner Ned for not picking up the pace and leaving most of his part for Gene to take care of while the bastard was on lunch. Unfortunately for Gene, automation wasn’t accessible for this kind of work at Brisk HARPY. 

Gene recalled the UCA making up some sort of excuse, couldn’t risk putting expensive equipment out in the West yet due to the high amount of colonies and drifters who could potentially steal it all. That’s why it was important to keep getting more groups to join the cause, so people would have access to technology that was very much limited to the East Coast.

Gene was beginning to have a groove going on regardless of how much she hated this part of the job. The trap like beat playing above the speakers in the incinerator chambers kept her moving. This genre of music was old, but her ears could stomach it compared to most crud her coworkers insisted on playing. Occasionally she whistled to the song as the lyrics would come soon joined by a small chorus of her coworkers doing the same thing as they piled more heaps of metal into the pits. It wasn’t all that bad when people actually did their job and didn’t throw it onto another.

“Dawkins!” Gene’s head rose up as she adjusted the straps of her tank top, making sure to keep the protective pads secure so the flames wouldn’t melt her clothes off. She looked up at her boss--Stark, and let out a puff.

“Yeah? I’m kind of busy here!” She said as a matter of fact before Stark gestured her for her to get a move on and meet with him in person. Gene took off her gloves, tossing them near the locker units for someone else to deal with before letting an older coworker know she wouldn’t be able to finish the job. Usually when Stark showed up, one of two things would happen: he either had a job for you, or he was about to chew your ass out. In Gene’s case, she wouldn’t be surprised if she got both handed to her.

Brisk HARPY paid good, but management could’ve been better in Gene’s eyes. Sometimes she couldn’t blame Stark for being pissed off most days. The UCA had some unrealistic expectations and deadlines for Brisk HARPY compared to the likes of Bridges and their co-partners Fragile Express. It was enough to turn anyone into an asshole twenty four seven regardless of professionalism.

“Good news Dawkins, your numbers are looking good.” Stark started off as he lead Gene into his office space, taking a seat and gesturing for her to do the same across from his desk.

“What’s the bad news then?” Gene asked, bracing herself as Stark raised a brow at her like she was a petulant idiot.

“Wow, you’re really pessimistic you know that? I don’t always bitch you out.”

“So I’ve been told many times, and yeah, you kinda do.” Gene said matter of fact.

“I didn’t call you to rip your asshole a new one. Not this time at least. I got another delivery job for you, its UCA top priority.” Stark said as he began messing around with his cuff link, going through some paperwork before he sent it over to Gene and then gestured for her to check it out. Gene went through the motions, fingers tapping away as she looked over the details. Occasionally, her eyes widened seeing how much red tape was in this delivery.

“What do you say, you up for it?” Stark asked, snapping Genes attention back to her boss.

“Yeah, it’s damn good pay. Long trip though. I’m gonna need to pack and need any porters heading back west to restock the safe houses to the best of their ability.”

“You know that’s not always a guarantee, but I’ll put the word out.” Stark said which Gene appreciated. Despite him being a callous jerk most times, he did have his moments where he could be understanding. Stark had been part of the porter industry ever since it first got started. Once upon a time, he was running around much like Gene was, trying to make people’s lives easier delivering goods and getting paid handsomely. The years of endurance could visibly be seen on him along with the hardships he endured. Despite being in his late fifties, he was in good shape save for the many scars and old bullet holes that littered his arms and face that told many stories. He had his share with death on the job lord knows how many times. Lost count, if Gene recalled correctly when Stark was pressed to answer one day by another associate. Stark was under the belief that most porters were getting too ‘cozy’ now in terms of their work, being too trusting of folks after the UCA was fully established along with the chiral network. Gene agreed with him to an extent, but he was older and a bit out with the times. Things were getting better in the world since the BTs left. He seemed stuck in the past.

“Not for nothing, but do you know what exactly I’m going to be delivering?” Gene asked curiously as Stark grunted, giving a shrug of his shoulders.

“I have no fucking clue kid,” he said and took out a cigarette, lighting it up with one of his mechanical fingers on his cybernetic right hand, giving a few puffs before continuing. “UCA sends their shit down the grape vine, you poor souls end up with what I got. Make sure you’re well prepped and don’t be getting your foot nearly hacked this time. You saw the paperwork, can’t afford the likes of MULE’s or god knows who to snatch this off of you. It’s literally my ass, whether you make it back alive or not and I’m not in the mood for the UCA to potentially charge me in the courts cause you fucked up.”

“If you don’t have that much faith in me, then why assign me the job?” Gene asked, her tone somewhat defensive as Stark once again grunted after taking a drag from his cigarette. The bitter smoke flew into Gene’s nostrils as she adjusted in the seat to avoid getting hit with the brunt of the smell.

“Because you’re the only competent porter I can think of at Brisk HARPY. Even though you’re late on delivery more so than most dumbshits here, your records a clean slate. I know you wouldn’t meddle with whatever the hell the UCA needs sent to that particular colony. You’re good at long stretches too. I estimate you being out in the field for three weeks at most unless you bump into trouble. I don’t normally say this, but take your damn time and make sure no one or anything gets near the package.” Stark gestured his cigarette at Gene almost as if it were a stick and he’d hit her upside the head if she said anything otherwise. Gene merely nodded and got up from the seat, ready to go back to the grind at the incinerator chambers.

“There anything else I need to know, Stark?” She asked.

“Yeah, on the way to the UCA client you got a couple deliveries. I’ll patch them to you on your cuff link. You should get cleaned up, get some rest and be ready to head out on the double. No lollygagging. Move your ass Dawkins.”

Gene snorted, letting out a small laugh at Stark’s jerk off streak then left the office. The first matter Gene took care of was getting some grub after working recycling for most of the day. Brisk HARPY was connected to a colony-state via underground networks and such. The facility housed up to two thousand people. A quarter working for Brisk HARPY while the others worked with the UCA or general labor. Gene liked how large the communal cafeteria was.

There were over four hundred people currently occupying the space. Some enjoying coffee and fruits grown by the nearby city, and others bullshitting about their jobs and family life. Most people came to Brisk HARPY for work, so it was interesting for Gene to see families actually living here. Many were displaced because of the terrorist acts Homo Demens carried out within the last two years. Brisk HARPY’s facility was one of the safest in the Western part of the UCA in terms of keeping terrible folks out. The place was fortified to the point where launching a bomb wouldn’t do shit to the structure or stability of the establishment. It was no wonder families were beginning to seek residence here, but that meant trying to find some way to incorporate them into the culture. Most folks in the Brisk HARPY sector had no family and had no intentions of creating one. Hell, some of her coworkers purposefully chose to work for Brisk HARPY because they wouldn’t have to be in the presence of kids in particular. Gene lost count how many folks called the children around the place crotch goblins among other unique nicknames. She was indifferent to children, not exactly maternal but understood it wasn’t the kids fault they had to live here and so Gene treated them like any normal person unlike some of her own coworkers.

Gene went through the cafeteria line, settling for some slices of bacon and a huge portion of potatoes. It had been a month since she had either. Slowly as people began to reclaim land and such, growing things like potatoes and having tech to produce genuine bacon was gaining traction. Foods that were thought to be long lost due to the Death Stranding were coming back.

A couple of the older kids living in the facility came by, high fiving Gene and greeting her as she took her tray over to a small table nearby a screen overhead that went off about the weather and the latest sightings of Homo Demen’s and MULEs. Occasionally, there would be some product placement and commercials from other carriers trying to get Brisk HARPY employees to seek greener pastures, but most folks were in it for the long haul. Good luck trying to get a lot of the geezers to quit. Gene thought to herself as she started gorging herself on the mashed potatoes. The aroma made her stomach ache as she consumed the meal. Gene hadn’t eaten in two days, so this was much needed. Sometimes working the incinerator chambers didn’t leave much time to take a break as there was a lot to melt down due to parts not being recyclable.

As another infomercial about Homo Demens came up, Gene’s mind began to wander while she ate. She thought about Higgs. He hadn’t sent word or anything for over three weeks. She was beginning to think maybe he made up the pizza request just to get her to shut up and take off. It seemed in character enough for him, though like she had told Higgs earlier, Gene was beginning to feel guilty for not returning the favor. He saved her twice. She didn’t like needing to be rescued by anyone, but the few times it happened on the job, she always made sure to pay it forward and then some. Gene felt like she cheated Higgs out of something.

“Seriously I shouldn’t give two shits.” Gene said to herself as she began scarfing down the bacon on her tray. Her mind drifting further to what happened weeks ago. Gene’s foot was healed, but her upper left eyebrow was still healing from the various punches David had given her. It still stung from time to time if she moved her eyebrows a lot. Gene was worried she had resting bitch face often due to it.

“How did he know David?” Gene said aloud to herself, recalling the strange interaction Higgs had with the Homo Demens member. Had Higgs been a terrorist before? No, the man was a bit of an ass but Gene didn’t think he had it in him. Higgs seemed to have knowledge of the porter life, so maybe he had done jobs for them. Many porters were well known for dealing under the table, especially if their main employers were not supplying a sufficient income. Some didn’t care who they worked for, so long as they got their money at the end of the day. Gene herself had done similar side gigs when it got difficult to take care of herself, but there were certain lines a porter doesn’t cross. Terrorism being a huge one.

“Hm?” Gene quirked up, seeing her cuff link was buzzing and she quickly opened up the screen. There was a new message in her inbox. She shifted through most of her junk mail, going to the new email.

Chikadee--

That foot of yours fell off yet? Time to pay your savior. Coordinates to my terminal are 30-25-351-201. Bring me nothing but the best. Extra cheesy for old time's sake. 👍🏻

“Speak of the devil,” Gene said as she shook her head, letting out a tired laugh. She wondered how Higgs managed to track her IP on the cuff link. The cuff links could work long distances, but at Brisk HARPY due to MULE’s hacking to track package routes, it was nearly impossible to break the code. Regardless of the uneasiness she felt towards Higgs, a deal was a deal. She was looking forward to getting her debt to him paid off so she could move on. Gene began to input the coordinates, noticing that the way they were encrypted guaranteed that Brisk HARPY couldn’t track it. She furrowed her brows, feeling a slight sting on the cut above her eyebrows. She rubbed it as the healing wound began to itch while trying to make out how far he was. Fortunately enough, Higgs was close enough to her UCA route. Gene could easily make her small deliveries and then pay him a visit before moving on with the top priority package. Piece of cake. Gene felt confident she had this in a bag. Now came the hard part as she shut off her inbox: what in the hell did a guy like Higgs love to drink alcohol wise? Her eyes widened slightly, feeling a bit nervous at this task. He requested alcohol, but never specified the type or brand. Same with the pizza minus the extra cheesy bit he left in the message. Gene searched her memory, recalling he said something along the lines of he would have whatever she was into. She wasn’t sure if it was some sort of power trip thing or if he was legitimately curious as to what she liked. Not to mention ordering pizza through a porter when he could have had something more expensive in exchange for saving her butt caught Gene off guard. Higgs was an odd one.

The days came and went, and Gene got done with her small deliveries save for the UCA package and Higgs’s odd request. The parcels of medicine that needed to be distributed to a nearby settlement was easy enough. Only thing that bugged Gene about that experience was the guy that worked for another small porter company trying to recruit her. The guy was like a pop up add in human form, wouldn’t shut up.

Gene had to scale a tall mountain pass to get to Higg’s base. She cursed him for it a few times, nearly falling more than she could count. Gene pat herself on the back for bringing extra security for the packages. At this point, if she hadn’t done it, the pizza Higgs wanted would be as good as gone, tumbling down some cliff and into a crevice by now with how much she lost her grip. Upon reaching the summit, Gene found herself having to climb down a ways, getting back to flat earth and about one hundred and twenty yards away, she could see the signature terminal and entry point into a facility up ahead.

When Gene arrived, she paused to get a good look at the place. It looked abandoned. There were scraps of metal and other mechanical bits scattered around. Some weird looking eyes and scarabs made from various broken parts of machinery decorated the outer part of the building, giving the ruined facility a persona of its own.

“Didn’t take the asshole for being an artist.” Gene said aloud, finding some of the weird sculptures Higgs seemingly made to be cool in their own right. He had a lot of time on his hands given how intricate and detailed some of the pieces were. She even bent down to check out one small sculpture that looked like an ankh. Gene wasn’t familiar with Egyptology, but knew enough to know what it was. She was beginning to wonder if maybe Higgs was a cultist. The few she met seemed to latch onto ancient cultures, Chinese, Egyptian, or what have you and latched onto their beliefs like it was a holy scripture.

“God I hope he’s not really like that.” Gene muttered under her breath, recalling the last time she made a delivery run for a cultist that it ended poorly. She was given a low score to Brisk HARPY because she didn’t want to hear for three hours why some spaghetti monster was going to descend from the heavens and save everybody. Stark chewed her out for it. Apparently spaghetti monster man, as Gene liked to call him, was a top paying client and he threatened to cut ties with Brisk HARPY and move to Fragile Express.  Humans were fruitcakes, the lot of them in Gene’s opinion, but said fruitcakes paid the bills.

Finally going to the terminal to deliver the goods, Gene was a little perplexed at the machinery. The tech was a little outdated, but once she figured out how to insert her key card into the system, it began to boot up. She put the pizza and the canister carrying the alcohol on a conveyor belt watching as the machinery took it behind the walls of the bunker. Gene waited patiently for Higgs to pop up and say something through the hologram projector. Nothing came of it. She raised a brow, scanning where Higgs should have been up and down. Suddenly a ringing pierced her ears, causing Gene to nearly screech as she covered them and a weird chipper voice began to speak.

“H-hey this is Peter Englert. Who is this speaking?”

What the actual fuck? Gene thought to herself as she put her hands down and looked around. Wondering if this was some kind of joke.

“You still there?” The nervous light heart voice asked once more.

“Higgs? It’s me, Gene. Your pizza and the alcohol you wanted is here. Nothing damaged.”

There was no response. No response for three minutes straight. Gene was beginning to feel odd and slowly began to walk backwards, intending on making a beeline out of the terminal area and back up the mountain and over the pass. She stopped when suddenly the door behind the terminal opened and Higgs stepped out. He was dressed casually, looking like he just stepped out of a shower given how his hair was slicked back and the scruffy beard he once had was trimmed down to almost nothing save for some little bits here and there.

Maybe I was too rough with the neanderthal comments. Gene thought then raised a brow as Higgs smiled at her. There was no malice in it, for once.

“Took a little longer than I expected. Figures with rookies.” Higgs said with a laugh as Gene tried to restrain herself from rushing up and slam dunking his face into the ground for the comment.

“You have any idea what I had to do to make sure this delivery was off the books?” Gene spat, earning an amused chuckle from Higgs.

“I’m sure it cost you an arm and a leg maybe even a foot,” he said, tone teetering on the edge of teasing as Gene realized it was an offhand comment about her foot injury from before given the sarcasm that dripped from his tongue.

“Har, har. Look I gotta run. We’re square now, so will you leave me a review, and pay my employer so I can get this show on the road?”

“Gee let me think,” Higgs rubbed his chin, looking as if he were trying to solve some great puzzle before his gaze fell back onto Gene, lips curving into a signature smirk. “No.” He said playfully.

This was going to be a hell of a night. Gene thought to herself, wondering exactly what Higgs had in store.

Tagging:  @kusooi​

[marshmallow-phd]

The Experiments

Genre: Sci-Fi, Thriller, Experiment AU

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Exo (????)

Summary: You were a med school graduate who just wanted to help research cures for the world. Instead, what you got was a dream job at EXO Applied Sciences. That is, until you discover the secrets of Level Sixty-Six and the nine inhabitants that are stored down there….

Warning: um... two swear words?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I 18 I 19 I 20 I 21 I 22 I 23 I Final

“I’ll help get him back!”

The sound of your door slamming open and hitting the wall with force pulled you from your restless sleep. As your eyes adjusted to being used again, you found Chanyeol standing in the doorway, chest heaving up and down like he’d just ran the length of the headquarters. Though you were still a bit groggy, a little voice in the back of your head was happy that he no longer seemed upset with you. However, you were still confused as to what exactly he was doing here.

Groaning into your pillow, you asked, “Chanyeol, what time is it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He closed the door and sat down on the end of your bed, halfway facing you with one leg up on the bed. Still lying down, you peeked up at him with only halfway opened eyes. With a soft breeze of air exiting his lungs, he gave you a half smile. It was still sad, but it was there.

“I’ve accepted that you just don’t feel the same way about me. You love Junmyeon and he makes you happy. I want you to be happy, so I’ll take care of my feelings on my own and you can be with him. And besides, we need him here. All of us do. So, I’ll help you get him back.”

You shot up from your lying position, unsure if you’d heard Chanyeol correctly. “W-what?”

“I don’t care what they say,” he looked at you, a determined look on his face burning away the tear stains. “Even if they say no, I’ll go with you and we’ll get Junmyeon back. We won’t let him stay in that place, a slave. Just promise me one thing.”

You nodded eagerly, leaning in closer to him. “Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll be happy with him. That you’ll make him happy and have the future with him that he’s always wanted.” Chanyeol reached you to, gently grasping your wrist so his thumb was caressing your scar. His eyes were trained on it, just in case you tried to pull away. “Just promise me that.”

“I promise.” You gave him a small smile, laying your free hand over his. “And I want that for you, too.”

He shrugged. “Maybe someday.”

“Not maybe,” you argued. “Definitely. For all of you.”

A smile grew on Chanyeol’s face and you felt lighter, knowing that he would be okay.

“So, do you think they will let us go get them?” he asked as he pulled his hand away, worry etching its way across his face.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your previous excitement deflating. “That leader–”

“Anya.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Chanyeol scratched the back of his head. “Her name’s Anya. The leader who brought us here.”

“Okay.” You stored that little fact away for later.

You guessed it was only natural for her to have a name and for the boys to learn it. So why did you now feel just the tiniest bit jealous? Or was it… territorial? You’d been hanging out the wolf hybrids too much.

“Well, then, Anya was right about EXO. Their security will be tight, practically impossible to get through. Not to mention, most likely expecting us. And while I believe that Junmyeon would be in the basement, we can’t know that for sure. I’m also not a strategist, so I wouldn’t even know where to begin. But I still believe we should give a shot. Better to have tried and failed than to have never have tried at all.”

Knock, knock, knock.

“(y/n), are you awake?”

It was Luhan.

“Yeah, I am.” You held back a yawn. As much as Chanyeol’s declaration had jolted your mind awake, the rest of your body was still catching up.

The door crept open slowly. Apparently Luhan wasn’t alone. With an entourage consisting of Sehun, Jongin, Minseok, and Jongdae, you suddenly felt very awkward with Chanyeol sitting on your bed. In your room. Alone.  

Luhan cleared his throat, obviously expecting it to be just you. “Anya spoke to the council. She’s asking all of us to gather in the meeting room.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “I’ll be right there. Let me get dressed.”

Luhan nodded and turned to leave, trying to get the overly curious boys to follow. Jongin shot you an unreadable expression that made you frown in confusion, but you didn’t have enough time to try and decipher it before the group was gone.

Chanyeol stood up, stretching his limbs. “I’ll wait outside for you to change.” He bent down once more and placed a soft kiss against your cheek. “Sorry,” he whispered at your surprised expression. “I just wanted to do that once.”

“It’s okay,” you replied softly. He left and you struggled to get out of bed as your body didn’t get enough rest. After not really paying attention to what clothes you’d slipped on, you exited your room and the two of you walked down the hall, soon following the sound of eight boys talking loudly over each other.

Everyone was gathered around a large conference table in the middle of the room. Anya, now dressed in a regular army uniform, was sitting at the head of the table with Luhan to her left. The chairs to her right were empty so you sat down next to her with Chanyeol right behind. Your heart was pounding your chest as you anticipated what the outcome of her meeting was.

Anya stood and the voices of the boys slowly died out until the room was silent. She cleared her throat before straightening her back.

“I’ve spoken with the board. I’ve given them details about the incident that happened at the rendezvous point as well as how valuable Junmyeon is to each and every one of you. The risks and benefits were weighted against each other. After a long debate, a decision was reached.” She lowered her head and your heart stopped. “At this time, we are not authorized to go after Junmyeon.”

“WHAT!” You jumped out of your seat, only Chanyeol’s grip on your wrist stopping you from pouncing. “All that work to get all of them out of there and now they’re just going to abandon him? What was the point then? They’re just going to continue to let EXO experiment on him? I thought they wanted to stop all of this? That can’t be done if they still have someone to experiment on!”

Anya held out a hand to calm you down, useless as it was. Her face read as sympathetic, like she hated that she had to be the one delivering this news to you. “I understand, (y/n). I really do. But this is the board’s decision. It’s too risky. We won’t have the element of surprise on our side anymore like we did with you and Marcus. If we go in there, guns blazing, there will be innocent causalities. Huge losses on both sides. And we can’t risk our men’s lives for the sake of one person.”

“But what about Junmyeon hyung?” Sehun stood up from his chair, fist clenched at his side. “We can’t just leave him there. They don’t care if we’re in pain. They don’t stop. Now they can control him. Don’t you understand what they could make him do?”

“Sehun’s right.” Now Minseok stood up, his face pinched together in anger. “We’ve all been through hell and back because of that place. (y/n) got us out in time so not all of us had to lose our free will. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let Junmyeon rot in that cell for the rest of his life without any choice in what he does.”

“They could send him out to kill someone,” Kyungsoo added. “If they did and Junmyeon found out about it, he’d never be able to live with himself. I can’t accept that you’re willing to take that chance. Yes, people could die if we went in to get him. But people could die if we don’t.”

“Besides,” Chanyeol chimed in, letting go of your wrist and folding his hands out in front of him on the table, “thanks to those assholes, we’ve got special abilities that would come in handy. Jongin’s fast, Jongdae can’t be effected by any of their electric weapons, I’m impervious to fire. If we all go, I think we could do it.”

“But none of you have training,” Anya argued. “None of you know tactical strategies. You can’t just go barging in through the front door and hope that the fact that you’re physically stronger than the enemy will get you what you want. These things take planning and logic and right now, that logic is saying it’s impossible.”

Taking a deep breath, you met Anya’s eyes, staring her down. Your voice came out hushed, but strong. You weren’t yelling anymore, finding it useless against the soldier in front of you who was all too used to hostility.

“That’s what I thought,” you admitted, “the first time. I thought it was impossible to get them out of there. EXO was too strong, too well powered, and I was scared.” Your eyes flickered to Sehun, who gave you an encouraging smile. “But I couldn’t stand by, no matter how impossible. And, honestly, by sheer dumb luck, we got out of there. It took a huge sacrifice, one I wasn’t prepared for, but we did it. Things like this only happen because the risks outweigh the benefits. But you do it anyway. But I guess the military beat that out of you in favor of following orders from the puppeteers.”

Luhan gasped, jumping to his feet. “(y/n)!”

Shaking your head, you turned on your heels and stormed out of there.

If the government wouldn’t help, then you’d go get him yourself. At this point, you didn’t care if you died or were captured, both being very viable outcomes at this point. You’d rather decompose at the bottom of the river or stay in a cell the rest of your life than be out here, free to live your life and make your own decisions while Junmyeon wasn’t. You’d be haunted by him out there, never able to let him go. This was the only choice you had.

Back at your room you began to pack. You threw out most of your clothes, only putting a black, long-sleeved shirt and black jeans off to the side to change into later. Before leaving the house, you’d hidden away some supplies, such as food for yourself, a flashlight, and other oddities. One by one, you went through them, trying to figure out might come in handy and what might just weigh you down.

“(y/n)!”

For the second time in less than an hour, your door swung open with too much force. All the boys minus Luhan crowded into your room and shut the door behind them.

They all glanced down at your bed, picking up on what you were up to.

“We’re going with you,” Chanyeol announced. “I told you. We won’t leave him behind.”

You let out a breath of relief. “I get that this would be the moment where I fight with you and say no I’m going on my own and you guys shouldn’t put yourself in danger because you might get captured again and you have a chance at a better life, but honestly, that would be bullshit and we know it.”

Minseok smirked, “Looks like you do have brains, Doctor.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned back to your packing. “I’m not exactly sure how we’re going to do this. Anya was right, we can’t just burst through the front door. We can try the back way that we escaped from, but I don’t know if that’s even still accessible.”

BAM, BAM, BAM!

The pounding on your door made everyone jump. The boys froze, some adjusting into protective stances.

“I know you guys are in there,” Luhan called out in a hushed tone.

“What do you want, Luhan?” Jongin hissed.

“Just let us come in without hostility,” he growled. “We need to talk.”

Baekhyun scoffed. “Us?”

“Yes, us. Now, we’re coming in.”

No one stopped him as the door opened once again, and both Luhan and Anya slipped into the room, checking behind them to see if any guards or passersby’s noticed the crowded room before letting the door click closed.

“What do you want?” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to look at least somewhat intimidating, like how Anya did effortlessly. You were pretty sure it didn’t work.

“Calm down, (y/n),” Luhan said patronizingly. He glanced over at Anya, who nodded. Looking back you, he declared, “We’re going with you.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

[mysweetestcreature]

Meus Amor (Hogwarts!Harry)

(Banner by the lovely @pretty-hazza)

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Series Masterlist

***

Platform 9 ¾ feels gloomier this year, at least that’s how Harry seems to find it. The worried looks on parents’ faces as they watch their children board the train makes him uneasy, especially when he hears their crude whispers and spiteful glares when he walks past them. “That’s the Styles boy, you want to steer clear of him,” they say as though he isn’t only meters away from where they stand. He chooses to ignore it though, at least that way he can pretend that he isn’t the son of a fucking wanted criminal. 

Usually, he would go and sit with the rest of Slytherins in the large car in the middle of the Hogwarts Express. It’s where all the girls catch up and try to outdo the other on who’s had the most extravagant holiday, and the boys compare their number of summer conquests. However, the turn of events in the last few months have made him somewhat of a hermit. Watching his house get turned upside down had really been the cherry on top to an already dreadful time. The less he interacts with them––or anyone for that matter––the easier sixth year will be.

He finds himself an empty compartment, and carelessly throws his bag on the rack above the bench. When his back hits cushion, he immediately finds himself melting into it, his tense muscles slowly finding ease. He turns his head to stare out the window, the sea of people slowly spreading thin as families disperse as they say their final goodbyes. He remembers his first year, everything had been all chirpy back then. Both his parents had been there to wish him and Gemma a successful school year and making promises to send the weekly care package of Anne’s baked goods and a collection of Desmond’s newly thought-out jokes.

It feels like a lifetime ago. 

And maybe it was.

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t even notice that the door has slid open until the clearing of someone’s throat grabs his attention.

“Hi…do you mind if I join you? Everywhere else is full,” a girl he recognizes to be in his year asks. She offers him a soft smile as she leans against the frame, her sparkling eyes leaving him wordless for just a brief moment. He bites the inside of his cheek––so much for keeping to himself––before motioning to the seat across from him. “I’m-”

“Y/n Y/l/n, yeah. I know,” he cuts her off. Y/n nods and falls back onto the bench, her bag cradled in her lap as she plays with the thin straps. Her nose twitches slightly, but she quickly rubs the tip of it with the back of knuckle to maintain composure.

“And you’re Harry Styles,” she says, crossing one leg over the other. Harry gives a curt nod. They’ve had classes together since their first year, but it must be the House boundaries that form somewhat of an awkward divide between them. “Have a nice holiday?” she asks. He stops himself from scoffing at the question. His family is plastered all over The Prophet.

“Don’t keep up with the news?” he cocks an eyebrow at her and leans forward with his elbows steady on his knees. 

She shrugs her shoulders. “My mum’s a muggle,” she proudly admits. “So, I spend my time out of school in Muggle London…haven’t really been caught up to date with all that’s happened since June.” He watches as she digs into her bag and pulls out a large stack of what appears to be pictures, and then hands them to him.

“These don’t move,” he says dryly, shuffling through the deck. Each image is of her, and who he’ll assume are members of her family. 

“Of course, they don’t, silly!” she giggles. His eyes dart up for a second at the sound. “Have you never seen a polaroid before?”

“I don’t often immerse myself in…Muggle culture,” he lets himself linger on one photo in particular. It’s of her posing in one of those weird non-magic rides, with her flashing the photographer with her pearlescent teeth. He looks back up at her, before he reaches forward to hand the pile back. He returns his attention back to the window, watching as the luscious scenery of the countryside pass them by. The fleeting trees only fragments of this shallow memory of a ride. 

“You should! I think you’d find it fascinating,” her silky voice enters his ears. 

His father would have a fit if he were to find out his son had taken up interest in the subject. Everyone in his house would. “Doubt it.” If he remembers correctly, the girl in front of him is a Gryffindor. Explains a lot.

“If you want, I could teach you a few things.” His neck snaps towards her, a prominent crease sinks in between his eyebrows. Was this girl serious? It’s confusing enough that a little Gryffindor would want to share a compartment with him, but now she was offering to educate him on muggle tradition? Harry eyes her carefully, his lips pursing in a straight line. “Now why would y-” but he’s interrupted by the compartment door swinging open once again.

“Anything off the trolley dears?” the old witch asks in her usual spirited tone. Y/n gets up excitedly and looks over the top. She looks like a little kid, her aura uplifting in the presence of cauldron cakes and cockroach clusters. 

“Maybe a chocolate frog…No! Wait, wait…Two pumpkin pasties, please,” she says as she goes back into her bag for some money. Her arm goes deep into it, and she’s biting her tongue in concentration as she searches for her wallet. “It’s the problem with extension charms, can never find a bloody thing!” Her arm goes so far into it that Harry thinks she might fall in. “I just had it,” she reassures everyone. Harry rolls his eyes at how long it’s taking her and stands up to pay the trolley witch himself. 

Y/n turns to pout at him, “You didn’t have to do that.” But Harry simply shrugs. The trolley witch thanks him and proceeds to the next compartment. “How much do I owe you?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says evenly. 

She continues to pout as she opens up the wrappings of her pumpkin pasty. Before taking a bite of it, she looks down at the second one in her lap. “At least take the other one,” she holds it out for him to take. “I’d feel much better about it if you did.” And she’s smiling victoriously when Harry concedes. His hand brushes against hers for a brief moment when he reaches over to grab it, and for some reason it has him feeling slightly tingly. 

***

The start-of-term feast is in full swing, and the sounds of silverware clanking against plates is only to be drowned out by the hundreds of conversations happening all around. Y/n sits beside her friend, a muggle-born called Liam, at the Gryffindor table. He’s going on about how his parents were hesitant about sending him back this year.

“I’m telling you, those Death Eater attacks are scaring the shit out of the muggles,” he starts, stuffing his mouth with some seasoned chicken. It’s true. Her mum had been only a few blocks away from the attack on the bridge, having been able to see the structure collapse from her office window. “What’s your dad got to say about any of this?” 

Y/n lets out a defeated sigh. Her father hasn’t told her anything because he doesn’t want her and her mum to worry too much about the situation. He works for the Ministry under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, an auror. Since Fudge’s resignation in June, he usually comes home late and apparates early the next morning. “I don’t know, Liam. He’s been trying to keep my mum and I clear of anything that’s going on. He’s even stopped having The Prophet delivered to the house.”

Liam gives her a sympathetic look before digging in further into his packed plate. She takes a bit of her own food, looking up to stare straight ahead. The familiar soft brown curls catch her eye from across the room. He’s sitting with just one other person, a blonde Irishman, Niall, she thinks his name is. 

After he had paid for her pumpkin pasties, they did have a rather fluid conversation (it took a little coaxing, but Y/n upped the charm to get him to participate). Of course, he didn’t let her pry too much into his life. It had been all talks about classes and whatnot. She doesn’t know why, but she feels herself drawn to him. Maybe it’s because he’s always been one of the more tolerable Slytherins ever since she’s known––or much rather, known of––him.

She turns to Liam. “What do you know about Styles?”

“Not much,” he responds, taking a long gulp from his goblet. “Only that his father is one of You-Know-Who’s followers.”

“As in a Death Eater?”

“Yeah…Merlin, you really are clueless, aren’t you?” Liam teases. “Why the sudden interest in him?”

Y/n bites her lip and looks down to the napkin spread across her lap. “We sat together on the way here, actually. I didn’t get that kind of vibe off of him.” Of course, she should have guessed that he’d somehow be associated with that side. It’s a world divided these days, and if there’s one thing her father has told her, it’s to be cautious of people. But when she turns back just in time to catch Harry laugh, and she can’t help the adorning smile that lifts her lips up and rounds the high points of her cheeks. 

*** It’s early on a Saturday morning when Harry flies his broom over to the Quidditch pitch. Slytherin isn’t scheduled to practice until Monday night, but he figures he can fit in some individual training before then. Besides, flying is something that makes him forget about all the stresses he’s got accumulated in his head. His mother had sent him a letter yesterday, informing him that aurors had come back to the house to question her and Gemma on the whereabouts of their patriarch. He allows for his mind to go numb as the cold September air flushes his cheeks of any warmth from the castle. The only thing comprehending in his mind are the puffs of breath that he can barely feel on the tip of his nose.

He’s angry. So infuriatingly angry that he’s just waiting for himself to crack. How dare his father be so selfish and abandon them, especially when he isn’t there to protect his mother and sister from Merlin only knows what.

Since his first year, he’s been trying to separate himself from his father’s reputation. But as the fates would have it, he’d been sorted into Slytherin, alongside the children of other Death Eaters. Harry doesn’t hate his house, in fact, he proudly wears the serpent on his robes. It’s the connotation that comes with the territory that he hates.

***

She spots his curls as he walks up the trail leading up to the castle. They have Double Potions together, but he usually keeps to the Slytherin side of the room. Part of her is telling herself to stay seated under the shade of this tree, where she’s been doing some advanced reading for Astronomy. But it seems as though a bigger part of her wants to talk to him again because she finds that her feet are scurrying over to his location.

“Harry!” she hears herself saying before she’s even processed any of her own actions. Harry looks at her, his face neutral as he wipes some sweat from his forehead.

“Y/n…hi,” he awkwardly greets. Harry wipes his face with the towel he’s got draped over his shoulder. He hadn’t expected to run into anyone this early, so he chose not to shower down in the changing rooms. 

“I…um…haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you since the ride here. Classes going well?” she bites her lip and holds her book in her hands behind her back. But then she remembers that it’s been a week, and if she hasn’t had much work assigned, it probably means that he hasn’t either. 

“So far, yeah,” he says, then starts towards the building, signaling for her to follow. “I’m really liking Professor Slughorn, man’s an exceptional brewer.” She nods in agreement, but then struggles to find a way to continue with the conversation. 

They walk along the path in silence, only the sound of the early birds chirping up in the trees fills the void. She hugs her textbook closer to her chest, the hairs on her arms upright in this the chilled morning air. “You cold?” she turns to meet Harry’s seafoam green orbs.

“A little,” she bites her lips between her teeth. Harry unzips the training bag he’s got hoisted over his other shoulder and pulls out a warm-looking black jumper.

He hands it to her. “Here, put this on.” Their footsteps cease in the middle of the trail. She digs her toe of her shoe into the gravel, staring intently at the garment. “C’mon, can hear your teeth chattering.” Timidly, she locks her textbook between her legs as she pulls the oversized jumper over her head. Her hands reach behind her neck to free the hair that’s been trapped under the heavy material. She dares to look up to see his face but is unable to read his expression. Once again, he remains emotionless.

“Thank you,” she blushes, pulling the sleeves to cover her hands. When a strong wind hits them, she doesn’t find herself as cold as she would’ve been in the thin long sleeves she wore underneath. Harry nods his response, keeping his eyes forward as they continue to walk up the path. There’s this feeling in his stomach that he’s not so keen on, it feels airy and fluffy, all the things that he shouldn’t be identifying with. But when he sneaks a peek at her from the corner of his eye, the feeling only persists. She looks so small in his jumper, with its length falling midthigh, making her appear so fragile as the fabric clings to her form. There’s something he finds incredibly endearing about it.

Harry shakes his head to himself, choosing to push any thoughts about her to the back of his mind. 

***

Whenever he’s feeling overwhelmed, Harry goes up to the owlery, where his snowy owl, Artemis, spends her time flocking about with the others. He runs the back of his knuckle down her beak, and she’s purrs into him, happy to be receiving some attention.

“How’re they treating you up here?” he opens up his handful of feed that he picked up in town. “Not starving you, are they?” he coos. She pecks at the food, her wings fluttering to her sides.

When she’s gobbled every last bit up, he’s clapping his hands together to rid them of any crumbs. Then he pulls out a letter from his jacket pocket. “Get this to Gem, yeah?” He ties the tightly rolled up parchment around her leg with a piece of string. Before he can blink, Artemis is off, the full expansion of her wings soars through the clouded sky. He stares out the glassless window, watching as his bird flaps gracefully until her image is lost in the clouds.

In his letter, he tells his sister about his first month back at school. He knows he should be writing more often, but there’s only so much he can talk about to dance around the frustrations he’s harvested towards his father. Gemma doesn’t need the added stress, considering that she’s the one taking care of their mum while he’s stuck out here in Scotland. 

He’s been counting down the days until the Christmas holiday, when he’ll finally be able to see them and get some proper information about what hell has been going on. It’s obvious to him that Gemma’s been holding back because her words give off a little too much of a joyous tone, a major contrast from her usually sarcastic bite. 

Suddenly, he feels something brush up against his ankles and his body stiffens for a moment before his eyes dart down cautiously. There’s a cat that’s draped itself over his dark suede shoes, its wild brown fur shedding on the bottom of his trousers. Harry looks around, but another human is nowhere in sight, which means this feline must’ve gotten here on its own accord. 

“What are you doing here, little lion?” he picks the cat up and strokes over his head and smiles when its rubbing into his touch. His hand runs down its back a few times, stopping when he feels the leather of its collar. He feels for the nametag, moving some of the fur out of the way to make out the words.

“Ashes!” he looks to the door and sees a panting Gryffindor hunched over on her knees, staring at the cat with relieved eyes as she tries to regain breath. “There you are, you bugger!” Y/n walks over to them and reaches for her cat––Ashes, he supposes his name is––and hugs him tightly to her chest. “Oh, Harry, thank you so much for finding him! I’ve been searching for him all morning.”

Harry rubs the back of his neck a small smile gracing over his raspberry lips. “He sort of found me, actually,” he says, petting Ashes gently on the head. 

“Well whatever the case,” Y/n says, her hand touches his arm, “I’m grateful.” And she doesn’t really know what’s possessed her to make this unnecessary physical contact, but it deliciously burns the palm of her hand, despite having only touched the top of his jacket. 

“It’s really not a problem. Got yourself a fine little lion,” he pets Ashes’ head, and Y/n swears her heart must have just skipped a beat. She’s never seen him so soft before (besides when he’s joking around with Niall, but that’s really about it), and she thinks she likes it because the crevices of his dimples become more prominent whenever he smiles widely. “What are you doing here, anyway?” he asks her. Y/n doesn’t even realize she’s been staring until he’s waving his hand in front of her face. 

“I…umm…was going to head into Hogsmeade and thought I’d bring him along,” she lifts Ashes up and waves one of his paws. Harry nods, slipping his hands into his pockets. It’s as though daunting silences always plague their conversations because she finds herself looking around the owlery to lessen the awkwardness she feels inside. But then she’s peering up to meet his breathtaking green eyes, and rush of confidence sweeps over her. “Do you want to join us, maybe?” 

To say he’s taken aback by her offer would be an understatement. He really hadn’t had any intention of going this weekend, since he’d already picked up all that he needed the previous week, but Y/n’s hopeful expression has him fighting off the logical part of his reasoning. 

“Umm, sure. Could use a butterbeer,” he says, and she’s squealing in delight and taking his hand to lead them down the steep steps.

***

They walk in sync, occasionally bumping shoulders as they follow the cobblestone road into town. Many students walk alongside them, chatting about what their plans are for this trip. Y/n’s let Ashes roam free in front of them, only scolding the cat when he’s trotted too far to the side. 

“I love him to bits, but he’s a runner,” she snorts. “Poor thing has been cooped up in the Gryffindor common room for a month. He’s used to being at home where he’s got the backyard to keep him entertained.” Harry lets the information soak in, but he isn’t sure if he’ll ever need it in the future. He hasn’t the intention of getting too close to anyone, especially not with some girl that he’s only been properly acquainted with as of late. Niall’s the only one he can tolerate being around, and that’s just because they’ve been best friends since diapers. But listening as she talks about everything under the sun as though everything has a bit of magic to it, it makes his insides flutter. And dare he say he enjoys it. 

***

The library is great place to study, but also to get away from the Slytherin Common Room. Malfoy’s been wanting to speak with him one-on-one since the start of term, but Harry really can’t be bothered with whatever the platinum blonde haired boy has to say at the moment. They’re friends, well close acquaintances, is more like it. Although, since Lucius Malfoy’s imprisonment, it’s obvious that the younger Malfoy is having trouble coping with all of it. And if what Niall’s told him is true, Draco may be partaking in the grand scheme of the Dark Lord. 

If that is the case, he knows that it’s only a matter of time until they’re recruiting him to join their forces. 

He finds himself an empty table in the back corner, just in front of the restricted section. His bag lands on the table with a loud thump, and he groans as he stretches his aching back. Yesterday, Flitwick had assigned them a six-parchment essay on the history and importance of the Aguamenti Spell. Opening up Standard Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk, he skims through the long, wordy paragraphs and jots down some useful facts he can include.

***

Four hours of research and complete solitude, and his hand is cramping from having gripped he quill a little to tensely. Harry stares down at his completed sixth piece of parchment, smiling triumphantly as he reads it back to himself. “Invented in…” the words slip off his tongue, his voice a little husky from the dormancy of his vocal chords. He uses the feathered part of his quill to trace out the words, looking for any errors he might have made. 

Once he’s satisfied with the turnout, he gets up and hops in place, stirring his body awake from having been sitting for so long. He walks through the aisles of books and watches as some of them fly to their rightful places on the shelves. He grabs a few that interest him, flipping through the pages. The smell of old paper in their bindings tickles his nostrils in the adequate lighting.

Suddenly, a shriek of his name has him wincing, and he recognizes it to belong to Daphne Greengrass. He carefully peers over his shoulder to see her coming for him in the distance. Dropping the book to floor, he hastily makes an escape. The witch hasn’t left him alone since they hooked up at the end of fifth year. He was drunk on fire whisky, celebrating the end of the O.W.L. exams and she’d been there, and the rest is blur to him. 

“Harry, is that you?” he curses under his breath as the soundwaves carry her voice through the area. He had tried to let her down easy and explain that it was only a one-time thing, a clouded-mind mistake. But she’s tenacious in him giving her another chance to make it worth his while. There are only so many ways he can tell her no without sounding like a complete asshole.

Maneuvering through some third-year students in the reference section, he sees a familiar figure intently reading a small book while her back leans against the shelf. Y/n looks up and smiles as he draws closer to her.

“Hey, how’ve you be-oh!” she gasps when he’s wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and burying his nose in the crook of her neck. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands but hold them loosely on his hips on instinct. Her heart is beating at a concerning rate, and she can only hope he doesn’t feel its pounding against his own chest. “What are you…” but he shushes her before she can fully question him.

Fuck, he thinks as her scent floods his nostrils. She smells like strawberries, or something as mouthwatering and sweet as that. Her body feels so soft as its pressed up against his, and he’s internally scolding himself for having chosen her as his shield. She’s cuddly all over, just as he had imagined when he first saw her in his jumper a few weeks ago. (Not that she’s been drifting in and out of his thoughts or anything…okay, fine. It’s only happened a handful of times.)  

They’ve been talking more frequently since going into Hogsmeade and laughing over a few pints of butterbeer. And one might look at them and consider them to be friends––but something about the title doesn’t sit well with either of them––they talk outside the potions dungeon before class starts. Harry usually arrives fifteen minutes early (he’s got a free period before then) because he knows she’s always at least ten minutes ahead of everyone. 

“Harry? Where’d you go?” Y/n turns her head and sees the tuft of blonde hair float pass them, the scowl on the witch’s face as she glances down their aisle, only to have her vision obstructed by a few floating books, then she’s off to continue her search.

He raises his head just enough for her to feel his nose nudge against her hair. “Is she gone?” he whispers in her ear. The lowness of his voice sends chills down her back. She bites on her bottom lip and nods her head. “Fucking finally,” he breathes out in relief. His hands slowly fall from her and back to his sides. The loss of his heat has her slightly pouting, as she wraps her arms around herself to mimic where his had been.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes, one of his hands running through his hair, as the other one slips into the pocket of his trousers. 

“It’s fine,” she assures, but she can feel the heat crawl up to the apples of her cheeks. “The least I can do for the favors you’ve done me.” At first, Harry isn’t sure what she’s talking about, but then he recalls the pumpkin pasties and helping her keep warm and then the other day when he had helped her reach for the valerian root, and he’s hiding the smirk that’s threatening to display. “I have your jumper up in my dorm, I’ve just been forgetting to give it back,” she discloses, staring down at her feet. She doesn’t want him to think that she has no intentions of returning it––even though that might be a fair assumption.

She looks up and sees the curve of his lips, his soft-looking raspberry lips. Harry lets out a chuckle. “Keep it,” he says, the concave of his dimples making her heart flutter with bewilderment. “I think you might need it more than I do.” He noticed how cold her skin felt when he had been hugging her, makes him wonder if this girl was even capable of maintaining a decent body temperature. It doesn’t help that now that he’s actually touched her, all he can think about is wanting to keep her warm. 

“You sure?” she asks, her big eyes searching his own. He chuckles again and nods, and she’s giggling and softly clapping her hands together. “Great! Because it’s really comfy and it smells really nice,” she finds herself saying. Harry stares amusedly at the Gryffindor, and he wonders if she’s ever worn it again since he let her borrow it. What he would give to see her swimming around in his clothes again.

*** The next time he sees her is outside of class, she’s sitting with a group of friends on one of the benches outside. At first, he thinks that they’re studying, but the way their squeals carry through the air, he’s sure it’s gossip that’s got them making such a fuss. He lets out a tired huff, looking back down at the reading he has to get done for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Now that’s Snape’s teaching it, it’s gotten much less enjoyable, and much more work-oriented. They’ve just finished up revision on spells learned last term and are now on to practicing nonverbal magic. 

“So, Y/n, a little birdy told me that Oliver Rivers fancies you,” one of the girls’ voices draw his attention from the text. 

“Shut up, he does not!” Y/n hushes them. “He only came by to ask me if I could tutor him with Arithmancy.” The other girls start giggling––Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard a more obnoxious sound. 

“I heard that he took it because he knew you were!” another one of them comments. Harry can’t help the roll of his eyes. Y/n is way out of Rivers’ league. He knows that the poor Hufflepuff wouldn’t be able to keep up with her, judging from how chatty she had been on the Hogwarts Express. It just wouldn’t work, he’s sure of it. 

***

Y/n’s been glancing over at Harry now and again, more interested in how the mild breeze flaps the top of his hair ever so slightly. His brows creasing as he reads over book with such hardened concentration. She often finds him studying in the library, at a corner table that he seems to have designated as his. Sometimes she thinks about just taking a seat across from him, but it’s as if her courage dwindles down when it concerns him. And she hates it. 

One of her friends tells her that Oliver plans on inviting her to accompany him to Hogsmeade this weekend. “Well that’s a shame because I’m not interested,” she sighs. Her last boyfriend, a Ravenclaw a year above her, had turned out to be straight up git. He had tried forcing her to take their physical affections further, but she made it clear from the start that she wasn’t ready for that sort of engagement. She ended up kneeing him in the balls and slapping him in the face before running out of the dusty broom closet. 

When she thinks over the experience, she realizes that she wasn’t even attracted to him, it was more of the fact that all her friends were getting into relationships and she’d been feeling rather lonely with them giving her rainchecks in favor of dates. So, when the Ravenclaw had asked her out, she’d thrown all caution in the wind and went for it. Since then, she’s promised herself to wait until that perfect guy comes along to sweep her off her feet, much like in those fairytale books she has in her muggle home. 

“C’mon, Y/n! It’s been ages since you’ve been out on date. Can’t tell me there’s not one wizard that’s caught your eye.” 

Y/n glances back up at Harry, the utmost concentration still a permanent resident on his structured features. “There might be someone.”

***

During potions, when she’s not observing her brew, she’s looking over in his direction. He and Niall are joking around as they wait for the thirty-minute cooldown of their cauldrons. Harry’s visibly laughing at how the Irishman imitates their former potions professor’s nasally voice, laying a hand on his stomach as his head falls back from the humor of it all.

“He’s so cute,” she dreamily says. Liam eyes her suspiciously, and she just waves him off as she continues to admire the curly-haired boy. Her breath clogs in her throat when their eyes meet, and he flashes her a small smile. She offers one back, but then puts her head down when he looks away. 

According to Witch Weekly’s quiz, Y/n has got herself a massive crush on a certain Slytherin. On their trip to Hogsmeade last weekend, she dragged Liam into Tomes and Scrolls to pick up various magazines that could help her figure out these feelings she’s been having whenever he smiles at her. 

“You’re so obvious,” Liam mutters, while he mixes his Hiccoughing Solution.  

“Am not,” she counters, but even she knows that that’s a massive lie. “Fine, but I can’t help it! Have you seen him?” The first quidditch game of the season, she and Liam had attended. It was Hufflepuff versus Slytherin, she cheered whenever Harry scored a point. She didn’t know what a fine chaser he was until then. The way he agilely sped across the field on his broom with such grace and finesse, had nearly every girl––and she really does mean every girl––swooning over him. “His eyes, they’re so dreamy,” she gushes, “and his hair, I just want to…oh my gosh, I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” she drops her face in her hands. 

Liam snorts, but rubs her back comfortingly. “Just a bit,” he teases.

From the other side of the room, Harry watches them. A slight pang of jealousy itching the tips of his fingers as he watches how freely Payne grazes his hand over her. He doesn’t know much about him, but from what he’s witnessed just now, he already doesn’t like him. 

“You know anything about him?” Harry asks Niall as he motions over to the other table. Niall follows his eyes and hums in response.

“Payne? Heard he’s wicked smart for a muggle-born. He’s kind of like Granger, except not as fun to look at.” Harry rolls his eyes but prods the blonde to continue. “He’s best friends with Y/l/n, and I know you fancy her.” Niall’s eyebrows waggle, a smirk spread across his face.  

Harry scoffs, “And where’d you hear that?”

“Don’t think I don’t see you giving her lovesick looks during dinner,” he looks over to where Y/n is manning her potion. “Don’t blame you, mate. She’s a looker, she is. Really fit, too.” This earns him a threatening glare from his friend. Niall raises his hands in surrender. “Relax, she’s all yours.” 

***

Harry officially can’t get her out of his head, which is actually quite annoying because now that he’s consciously aware of her, she’s popping up everywhere he turns. Her cute self that makes him feel all weird inside whenever she’s near, it drives him mad. And when he doesn’t see her, he finds himself looking for in the sea of students whenever a class period is up. Right now, he’s living for Double Potions on Mondays because that’s when he gets to be in the same room with her for an hour and half. It seems that she’s the only thing that’s able to make him forget about all his problems back home.

His owl had dropped a letter from his sister yesterday morning. In it, she expressed her grievances about their entire situation, telling him how she feels all their mother does anymore is cry. How he wishes he didn’t have to wait until December to see them, but with the Ministry keeping close tabs on their house, it’s difficult for both Anne and Gemma to leave. His mood had been quite sour, but then he ran into her in the East Corridor, and it’s like the light she radiates washed all bitterness away. 

“Harry, mate, you’ve been looking at the door since we’ve arrived here,” Niall complains, taking a break from conversation with a pretty Ravenclaw that he’s had his eyes set on for ages. “Looking for your girl?”

“No, leave me alone,” Harry mutters back at him, but his eyes never leave the entrance to the Great Hall. He glances down at his wristwatch, 8:23 am, which means she should be coming down for breakfast soon. (Not that he’s been keeping track of what time she usually eats. That would be creepy…) Y/n is seen before heard, the sounds of her blissful laughter reaching his ears before he watches her walk in with the Weasley girl. Her hair floats freely down her back, swaying with each step she takes. One of her knee socks falls down mid-calf, and he groans as she slightly bends down to pull it up. The worst part is that she doesn’t even know the effect she has on him, it’s just her naturally adorable self-that’s getting him all wound up. 

***

Leaves on the trees turn from luscious greens to vibrant shades of red and orange. The crisp autumn weather has students and faculty whipping out their comfy scarves to wrap around their vulnerable necks as they take walks along the grass. The end of October is celebrated with the Halloween feast, where the four grand house tables are to be overflowing with cavity-inducing sweets.

Harry is making his way through the courtyard, navigating his way through a group of Hufflepuffs that insist on walking in a perfect horizontal line. His attempts prove useless, however; and he’s stuck trailing a few paces behind them. “Tossers,” he mutters under his breath in pure annoyance.

“That’s not very nice,” he turns on his heel, a smile forming on his lips when he sees her. “I happen to know one of them, and she’s a saint!” Y/n teases, poking his side. 

“I just want to eat, I skipped lunch to study for a Transfiguration test,” he clutches his stomach when it growls at back at him. She giggles at how cute his face looks when it contorts from what might be the agonizing hunger of a teenage boy. The crowd around them seems to have numbered down to just them and few other students running towards the Great Hall. 

“If you’re that hungry…” she smirks, then grabs his hand and leads him towards the staircase to the dungeons. He doesn’t even bother to question where she’s taking him because his eyes are trained on how tightly her hand is squeezing his. 

Witch Weekly had advised her to do something spontaneous that would catch his attention, so that’s exactly what she’s doing right now. She’s trying to ignore the quickening beating beneath her chest and prays that her hands don’t go all clammy. 

*** It’s when Harry finds them in front of the kitchen that he pulls her back towards him. “We could just eat upstairs, love,” he raises an eyebrow at her, but she’s already tickled the pear, causing the portrait door to swing open for them. The house elves trot about, levitating heavy dishes of food over to specific tables to transport over to their counterparts in the Great Hall. The large brick fireplace providing a good amount of heat to make the room feel nice and snug. He’s only been here once, and that was during second year on a dare. One of the elves skips towards Y/n, giddily hopping in place.

“Miss Y/n! What can Winky do for you?” the house elf––Winky––eagerly asks. She grins widely when she pats her head.

“My friend here is really hungry, so we were wondering if you could whip us up something? It’s much too packed upstairs,” Y/n sweetly replies, swinging their still entangled hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

Winky nods her head and ushers them to a smaller table off to the side of core five. “Winky will fetch Miss Y/n and Miss Y/n’s friend food right away!”

Harry pulls the chair out for her before taking his own seat. “Not what I pictured as a first date, but this is pretty nice too,” he winks, taking a sip from the glass of water that’s appeared in front of him.

“This is so not a date!” Y/n gasps, reaching over to swat his arm. She feels herself turning pink at the thought. 

“So, you don’t want to date me?” he feigns hurt as his lips form a pout. “No! I do! It’s just I’ve been waiting for you to…” her jaw drops at her sudden confession and she’s covering her face with her hands when the triumphant smirk returns to his lips. His head tilts to the side as he gazes at how cute she is while she rambles into her palms. 

“Hey, hey,” he gently wraps his fingers around her wrists to pull them down, so he can get a good look at her blushing face. “I’m only teasing. C’mon, look at me,” he says softly, but she shakes her head as her eyes seal shut.

“I rather not, if you don’t mind,” she mutters, and Harry laughs at how cute she is with her eyes squeezing so tight that he thinks they might burst. He looks down to where he’s holding her hands in his much bigger ones, then lifts them up just centimeters from his mouth. She feels his breath on her skin, until they’re replaced by soft pillow-like sponges. 

Her eyes open up, despite the rest of her body’s protests. She bites on her bottom lip as he continues to ravish the backs of her hands with sweet supple kisses before running his thumbs over the skin. “Go out with me,” he says, eyes twinkling fondly at her as though she’s all that’s important in the world. 

***

This stupid grin hasn’t abandoned her in nearly two days, but she can’t help it! Whenever she sees him giving her looks that make her weak at the knees and holding in the barrel of giggles she’s got pent up in her tummy. Only in passing did she tell Liam because she knows he’d be a little hesitant in letting her go on a date with the son of a Death Eater––he’s sort of like her dad when she’s at Hogwarts––but even then, no one could persuade her otherwise. 

She’s walking up to Astronomy when she sees Harry, accompanied by Niall, exiting the classroom. When their eyes meet, he tells Niall to go ahead, and the blonde boy gives her a suggestive smirk as he passes her on the stairs. Her and Harry stand on the long platform step, letting other students pass them with ease, some shooting them suspicious looks. 

“Can’t wait till Saturday,” he says, his hand slipping to the curve of her waist to prevent anyone from knocking into her. “Pick you up at six?” Y/n doesn’t trust her voice and opts for giving him a sweet nod of the head. He smiles down at her and pecks her forehead. “I’ve got to get to the greenhouse before Sprout has the tentacula attacking me for being late.” 

Biting her lip, she watches him descend down the stairs, lightly bumping into Liam as he rushes to Herbology. Liam raises an eyebrow at the Slytherin before turning up to see his friend’s dazed eyes following the boy’s shadow. 

“You alright there?” he questions, snapping his fingers in front of her eyes. 

“Looks like you’re on something.” Y/n playfully shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head, taking one last look down the stairs before entering the classroom.

***

It’s when he’s coming up staircase to the Gryffindor common room that he realizes that he’s never actually taken a girl out on a proper date before. Sure, he’s had girlfriends and flings of the sorts, but never actually took the time to treat her to anything more than to some candy from Honeydukes or a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks before they’re succumbing to those pesky teenage hormones. But Y/n is different, she actually makes him want to put in the effort. And even though he said to himself in September that there would be no canoodling with anyone, she’s possessed every inch of him and he’s not doing anything to stop her. 

She’s waiting for him just outside the portrait hole, her fingers fiddling with tassels of her scarf. When she sees him, she’s fighting to suppress the giddy smile that still hasn’t left her. He greets her with a kiss to the cheek and there’s that giggle of hers that seems to have become his favorite sound. 

***

There’s never been a time in his life where he’s felt this happy, with Y/n under his arm as they sit in a booth at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. It’s quite cliché, now that he’s taken time to process it. This is the spot where all lovey dovey couples go for dates, so they can snog over tea and biscuits and act as though ‘happily ever afters’ are a thing of the real world. The fully pink interior has it feeling like Valentine’s Day all the time, but that’s the novelty of it all, he supposes. 

He’s never sat in here before, only stopping in to get some coffee to go before heading back to the castle. He likes knowing that his first time is with her. Y/n seems to be enjoying herself because this girl has got quite the sweet tooth on her. Since he’s not a fan of chocolate, he’s given her full reign on filling herself up with any of the desserts that might contain it. 

“Oh my goodness, you have to try this one!” she holds up a piece of carrot cake in front of his mouth. He laughs because she’s just so god damn adorable, but bites into the cake nevertheless. The taste of cinnamon and a dash of nutmeg soothe his taste buds as he chews and then swallows. He hums in approval and opens his mouth up again for her to feed him. 

“It’s really good, love,” he winks, brushing his hand just below her shoulder. His gaze lands on her mouth, where some crumbs have accumulated in the upper corners. “You’ve got a little…” but instead of telling her, he uses his thumb to wipe it all away, the palm of his hand resting on her cheek. “There you go.” 

“What a gentleman,” she teases and brings the teacup to her lips as they wrap around the rim in such delicate fashion that now all he can think about is kissing her and molding their lips together. It’s honestly all he’s thought about since watching her eat that pumpkin pasty on the train.

***

They walk with their hands laced together, a blanket of fallen leave scattering around the cobblestone roads of the town. Sometimes she’ll lean her head on his shoulder, and he’ll nuzzle his nose into her fruity smelling hair when he sees fit. He bets when other people look at them now, they’d think that they were the most loved up pair at Hogwarts––which doesn’t bother him one bit because he’s already admitted to himself that he’s absolutely smitten with her. 

This date is going much better than he had anticipated, all that’s left is to seal the deal with a kiss, so he can actually call her his, and not have to listen to any talk about other boys wanting to whisk her away. But just as he’s about ready to lean down, his eyes spot the same tuft of blonde hair that he just can’t seem to shake off. 

“Harry!” she calls, and he’s groaning into Y/n’s temples. It’s too late to make a run for it. “I haven’t seen you in ages!” Daphne says with her abnormally high-pitched voice. 

“We had class together yesterday,” Harry deadpans.

Daphne tuts her tongue, “Yes, but you’re always so focused that I can never get a word in.” She flips her long hair back over her shoulder and adjusts her skirt so that it’s a bit higher above her knees. 

“It’s why I’m passing,” Harry states, and Y/n buries her face into his shoulder, so she can stifle the fit of laughter. “Find that funny, do you?” he whispers in her ear. Daphne looks at the two with an almost sickened face that Harry can see turning a shade of green.

“What’s going on here” she screeches and crosses her arms over her chest. “What are you doing cozying up with a Gryffindor?” He rolls his eyes because the witch really thinks he owes her any explanation for anything he’s doing. 

“We’re on a date, and you’re kind of ruining it,” he replies and pulls Y/n in the opposite direction, “I’d like to get back to it.” They leave the blonde-haired girl with her mouth hung open as Harry leads them over to one of the less populated areas. 

***

“I don’t think she likes me,” Y/n giggles, her back hitting the wooden fence. Harry shakes his head and leans into her, wrapping his arms around her midsection. “She’s just jealous.”

“Oh?” she feigns ignorance, and he hums to play along. “Is there a reason she should be jealous?” The hopeful expression that’s sketched over her soft features has his insides leaping and now all he wants to do is kiss her when his eyes fall back on her plump lips. 

“Could give her one,” he whispers and his hands cup either side of her jaw, his thumbs stroke over her cold cheeks as he stares longingly at her lips. She swallows at how sultry it is as it replays in her mind. Her eyes are half-lidded as he slowly leans in, allowing for their breaths intermingle with one another before he’s fully pressing up against her. Already, he knows he could spend all day standing here, holding her close as their lips move together in perfect synchronization.

***

“You’re completely whipped,” Niall tells him at breakfast as he shovels scrambled eggs into his mouth. “Never thought I’d see the day.” Since arriving twenty minutes earlier, Harry and Y/n have been giving each other not-so-subtle googly eyes from across the room. 

Harry rolls his eyes and takes a bite from his toast. “Shut up,” he mutters. It’s not his fault that the tables have turned, and Niall is the one without a girlfriend to be all soft around. And yes, Harry knows how soft he is when he’s with her or talking about her to Niall. Just the other day she had sneezed the cutest sneeze he thinks he’s ever heard, almost how a baby does before finding its voice. 

The sound of hooting signals the arrival of the mail, and there’s Artemis with a letter between her talons. He skillfully catches it before it falls into his cereal, but Niall isn’t as lucky because his bird just dropped his package in his breakfast, poor boy. Harry opens up the letter, and immediately he feels all color drain from his face. His hands are practically shaking as he reads through the messily inked words on the paper. 

“What’s wrong?” Niall asks, picking off the last bit of egg from his robes. The letter gets thrown into his bookbag before he’s running a frustrated hand through his hair. “It’s my dad,” he closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose. “He’s…he’s been arrested.” The words are bittersweet when he hears them aloud. He’s mad at his father, yes, but to see him get thrown in Azkaban? He can only imagine how his mum is feeling right now. Desmond Styles might not be the perfect family man, but he does love Anne more than anything. 

Niall pats him on the back. “Are you alright, mate?” his tone slightly cautions because he knows that Harry doesn’t really like talking about his feelings. 

Harry’s lips purse into a straight line as he focuses on his breathing. He stares back across the room and sees her giggling at something Liam must have said, and this makes him smile. She’s so innocent to all the bad that inevitably surrounds them, and his connections to that side has him constantly worrying about her. But now that his father is in custody, maybe he doesn’t have to live with that fear anymore. Maybe this is good for him, good for his family, good for them. He turns to his friend, who’s still got a frown of concern on his face.

“Yeah, I think I am.” 

***

Now that they’re dating, he discovers that she’s not so keen on flying. He’d taken her for a ride on his broom, only to see that she had her eyes closed and buried in his back until they landed back on the ground. She says that she’s always been afraid of heights––imagine that, his brave little Gryffindor, afraid––and he’s determined to help her conquer that fear. 

“Do we have to?” she whines, pulling on his hand to steer away from the quidditch pitch.

“Yes, yes we do,” he cheeks and kisses her hand to appease her. “How am I supposed to be romantic and take you on spontaneous dates when my girl’s afraid of flying?” 

A gust of wind hits her face and has her hair flying all over her face, and she lets out a grunt trying to tame the loose strands. “That’s what walking is for and besides, you turn seventeen in February. You’ll be able to apparate us places then,” she argues. Her head falls on his chest and she’s left huffing because this isn’t what she had in mind when he said he wanted to take her out. They could be inside cuddling up in the library or sneaking into the kitchens or just about anything else. 

“C’mon, love. Just one try. If you really hate it, we’ll stop and do whatever your cute little head has in mind.” He mounts himself off the ground, hovering just a few feet. With a grumble, Y/n swings her leg over the other side, then wraps her arms tightly around his waist. “You got to promise me that you’ll actually keep your eyes open this time,” he peeks over his shoulder.

“Don’t push it.”

***

The library is the perfect place to snog his girlfriend (and study too, of course) because being in different Houses becomes an issue when they’re as different as day and night. Often, they find themselves cuddles up in one of the armchairs as they review course material and quiz each other for whatever test one of them has coming up.

“How do you extract pods from a snargaluff?” Y/n holds the notecard to her chest, so he can’t cheat. But that’s not even on his mind right now, instead he’s much more entertained by the smooth skin of her neck as he peppers kisses all over it. “Harry! C’mon, you’ve got a test tomorrow!” she scolds. 

He cups her cheek and brings her face down to meet him. “I’ll be fine, love” he says against her, “been studying for the last three days.” He buries his face back into her neck. “I need a break.” She can’t help the roll of her eyes, but quite frankly she enjoys how his lips feel when they trail wet kisses over her flesh, and her fingers tangle themselves in his hair to bring him closer. 

Her thoughts become lost in his touch, all senses oriented to how amazing she feels whenever she’s with him, whether they’re actually studying––about forty-five percent of the time––or doing this. She knows it’s too early in their relationship, but she knows for sure that she’s in love with him. No one has ever made her heart beat the he does, and call her naïve, but she’s almost positive that this is what love is.

Another reason she knows she loves him is that she’s actually dreading going back home next week for Christmas. It means two weeks of not seeing him and only communicating through letters that his owl will have to relay. 

“Going to miss you,” she pouts when she pulls away. Her thumb runs over his bottom lip to wipe away some of her lip gloss that’s transferred over. Harry kisses it, then pecks her once more before leaning back in the chair.

“I’m already going mad just thinking about it,” he sighs, playing with a small strand of her hair. “We promised to write each other, yeah? I’ll write you every day to tell you how much I miss you,” he cheeks and pinches her chin between his fingers. 

***

What does one get a guy that’s so bloody rich that he probably has two of everything? That had been Y/n’s problem in the days leading up to Christmas break. She’s usually really good at gifting, but Harry’s her first serious boyfriend and she wants their first exchange to be special and thought out. He keeps saying that he doesn’t want anything, and she thinks that’s complete bullshit. When they were walking through Hogsmeade a few weekends ago, she noticed him eyeing some new Quidditch gloves in the window display of Spintwitches Sporting Needs. Maybe he’d appreciate that?

“I need your help,” she walks up to where Liam is studying at one of the tables in the common room. She slams a bagful of galleons in front of him. He dips his quill into the ink pod and opens up the pouch. “Bloody hell, Y/n! What’s all this for?” His eyes pop out of his head as he counts the golden coins one by one. 

“It’s for Harry’s Christmas gift. I need you to buy it for me,” she says, then gives him an award-winning smile that would put Gilderoy Lockhart to shame.  “Pretty please?” 

“Why can’t you do it?”

She blows raspberries into the air and plops down in the seat adjacent to the desk. “Because it wouldn’t be a surprise then, now would it? I don’t go into town without him, so buying it without him knowing would be impossible!” Liam sighs, but puts the money in his pocket. They sit in a comfortable silence as he continues to revise his notes for Divination. (Although, she isn’t quite sure why he’s still taking it considering how much of a joke the whole ‘looking into the beyond’ thing seems to be.) “Not that it’s any of my business,” he starts, his eyes still dancing over his notebook, “but have you told your parents about him?” 

She lets her mouth fall into a frown as she looks at him. She’d written her mum a letter gushing about her boyfriend, but she did fail to mention a surname because Godric forbid that her dad recognizes it and marches straight to Hogwarts to give her a firm lecturing on dating someone so closely associated to the people he works to put behind bars. But it’s not Harry’s fault for having been born into one of the wealthy Pureblood families that have a history of being involved in the dark arts. 

“Of course…” and Liam lets out a snort because he knows her too well to know when she’s bullshitting him. 

*** They’re on the Hogwarts Express back to King’s Cross Station when he tells Y/n that he loves her. And it’s such a relief to her because she was about ready to burst if he hadn’t beaten her to it. She declares it back and throws herself into his arms, causing them to fall back on the bench as they smother each other in sweet kisses. 

For the rest of the ride, he’s got his head resting in her lap while she plays with his hair, her other hand being held right over his heart. He listens to her describe her family’s holiday traditions and whatnot. She describes how she used to believe in this mystic entity called Father Christmas that would leave gifts under the tree, only to find out the heartbreaking truth that it was just her mum sneaking downstairs in the early hours of the evening. 

“It’s a bit creepy, having a long-bearded man break into your house,” Harry scrunches his eyebrows. “And muggle children want him to sneak in? That’s like if Dumbledore were to just appear in my kitchen.” It’s funny to think how he hadn’t any interest in anything from that world three short months ago, but now he’s actually engaging in non-magic conversation. 

“That’s not the point! He’s what keeps their spirits up this time of year,” she pinches his nose. How she would love it if Harry were experience muggle Christmas with her and her family. But of course, he’s got his own family that would want him home with them. She knows enough about them, like how his sister, who’s four years older, is a healer at St. Mungo’s. He’d been more hesitant speaking about his father. 

She outlines the soft lines on his forehead. “Are you going to be okay?” 

“What do you mean?” he reaches up to caress her cheek, he smiles when she leans into him. 

“You know…with your father and everything…” she hadn’t wanted to say it out loud, but curiosity has gotten upper hand. 

“It’s going to suck for sure, but we’ll get through it eventually,” he gives her a lopsided smile. She nods her head and carries one with looping his curls around her fingers. He proceeds to change the topic to jollier matters, like how he’s excited to give her the present he got her. (She thinks it’ll be owled to her, but he’s got a little something planned.) 

***

“Sentencing hearing for offenses committed by Desmond Styles, resident at 5 Willows Way Wiltshire, England. Interrogator, Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic. Charges against the accused are as followed: endangering the welfare of muggles, attacking a Ministry official, and casting the killing curse on eight individuals,” Scrimgeour’s deep voice echoes through the courtroom of the Wizengamot. 

Harry, along with his mother and sister sit silently in their pew, lips sealed tightly. A cage erupts from the floor, revealing Desmond Styles entrapped within its confines, spikes surrounding the perimeter. His usually kept hair is untamed and greasy looking, his skin covered in scabs and scratches. From where they’re sat, Harry can even see the dirt under his fingernails. Visibly thinner from when he’d last seen him last Christmas, the man in front of them is nearly unrecognizable. 

“If the defendant chooses to give the names and locations of his allies, then the Wizengamot is to make a bargain for his early release from Azkaban. Does the defendant accept these terms?” All eyes fall on the broken man, once known to be a pillar of wealth and luxury in the community. Desmond remains silent, shooting everyone in the pews dirty looks. He doesn’t event spare his own family any reassurance, growling like an animal when Scrimgeour repeats his question.

“What’s he doing?” Gemma whispers frantically to her mother. “Why can’t he just give them up?” Tears are flooding her eyes as she takes in her father’s appearance. 

Anne croaks out a response that neither Harry nor Gemma can make out. Harry wants to get them out of there, it’s all just too much for his poor mother to handle with all the grief that Desmond has given them in the last six months. 

Scrimgeour narrows his eyes at the caged man, leaning forward in his mighty seat. “If the defendant does not wish to cooperate, it gives us no choice but to send him back to Azkaban.” It’s a threat with intentions meant to carry through with the consequences. Harry holds his breath as he waits for his father to say something, anything to lift the weights he feels dragging him to the ground.

The man persists his silence. 

***

Around three in the morning, she hears a tap on her bedroom window. At first, she thinks it’s some bird or whatever, so she buries her face in her marshmallow-y pillow. But the tapping continues, and she’s forced to open up her eyes that are still heavy with sleep. She feels for her wand underneath her pillow as she casts the illumination charm to reveal the source of such a disturbance. 

“Harry?” she drops her wand and opens up her window to let him in. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Right away she notices that something is off, and she cups his frigid cheeks in her palms and lifts his face to look at her.  

“He’s getting life,” his voice cracks as he reiterates the words of the Minister had declared just earlier that day. They had come home from the trial, all wordless because what is one to say after something like that? One look at his mother, the desolate expression of hurt and betrayal ingrained in her. “Bastard didn’t even think twice about us.” And for the first time in years, he allows himself to cry. His head falls onto her collarbone and the bitter tears soak right through her night shirt. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers to him as she strokes his back and hugs him tight and listens to his bitter weeps. It’s the first time she’s ever seen him so vulnerable, and despite her wanting him to open up more, this leaves her heart to break for him. 

He sleeps with her that night, in its most innocent definition. They lay underneath the covers arms wrapped around one another, inhaling each other’s scents. His eyes are hard, but genuinely tired all at the same time. He holds her close, the only thing that’s keeping him from spiraling down into fits of anger because she’s the only good thing in his life right now. “I love you,” he whispers, connecting their foreheads and rubbing the tip of his nose to hers. 

“I love you,” she whispers back. He releases a long breath and it’s only a matter of minutes until he falls asleep, the glimmer of his tear stains causing tears of her own as she runs a thumb over to the irritated skin. With a kiss to the side of his mouth, she too drifts off.

***

He wakes up the next morning holding her in the same position he had fallen asleep in. Her nose digging into his neck as her arms lazily drapes over his stomach. He smiles to himself when he thinks he’d like to wake up like this every morning. 

Last night, he’d shown a side of himself that not even his family has ever seen before. He’d been taught to never shed emotion in trying times because that signals weakness. And no respectable wizard would be considered weak. However, the trial had ended just as fast as it had started since his father refused to annul his allegiance to the Dark Lord, and the only person he could think to run to, was his girlfriend. Her presence alone allowed him to release all the pain that he’d been feeling, and laying here with her now, he doesn’t feel any of it. 

“Y/n, love,” he coaxes her awake with wet kiss along her jaw and down her neck. “Wake up.” He kisses over her eyes as they flutter open to meet his.

“Good morning,” she snuggles herself further into his embrace, thoroughly enjoying the heat he’s providing her with. 

She feels herself falling back asleep, but then a sudden realization has her eyes popping out of their sockets as she turns in his arms to reach over for the mini calendar she has on her side table. 

“It’s Christmas!” she cheers softy (it’s still a bit early and her parents are probably asleep). She turns back to Harry, a bright smile on her face that melts his heart because she really is just the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Happy Christmas, Harry.” 

He tucks the hair that’s covering her face behind her ear and leans over to peck her lightly. “Happy Christmas, love,” and he hugs her close. Thankfully, he’s come prepared for today. He reaches over for where he had shed his trousers–– by the side of her bed, into the pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. 

“I, um, was planning on this being more romantic, but I’m already here…and it’s Christmas, so…” he opens up the box and in it is the prettiest ring she’s ever seen. He notices how she’s looking at it with a bit of weariness, so he adds on. “It’s not an engagement ring, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says sheepishly. Y/n giggles and kisses his cheek. 

“I wasn’t thinking that, silly! It’s just, now this makes my present look like nothing!”

“Don’t say that, I love the gloves.” 

Her mouth falls open in shock. “How’d you…”

“When I went to Hogsmeade before lunch to pick this up, I stopped by the sports shop to buy the gloves, but then Liam was there and told me that I couldn’t. Eventually he told me that you were planning on getting them for me yourself,” he smirks and boops her nose. “I really do love them.” 

***

“Harry, love, can I speak with you for a moment?” his mum corners him when he arrives back at Styles Estate. He’d spent all morning cuddled up with Y/n at her house, only leaving when he heard footsteps out in the hall. 

“Of course, Mum,” he smiles. “What is it?” 

Anne’s lips purse into a thin line as she looks her son over. “I know that all that’s happened yesterday has been tough for you…it’s been tough on all of us,” she starts. She smooths the fabric of her skirt down, her wedding band catching the light and blinding his eyes. “It’s going to take some sacrifices, but there’s a way to get everything back to how it used to be.” 

To how it used to be. What does she mean by that? Harry raises an eyebrow. With Desmond’s imprisonment, there’s no going back to how everything was before then. If anyone were to ask him, he’d want to leave this house with all its memories because the last thing they need is a constant reminder of his father choosing Voldemort over them. 

“What do you mean by sacrifices?” although it’s not his intention, but it comes out as a demand. 

“You see, the Dark Lord wishes to recruit the children of his followers to overthrow the Ministry.” He gapes at her. How would she have known any of this? His mum was never aligned with that world, so hearing this come out of her mouth is beyond controversial.

Become a Death Eater? There’s no chance in hell he’d ever do that! He’s got good things going in his life, siding with a fucking lunatic would ruin all of it. “No,” he says firmly.

“It’s the only way to get your father out of Azkaban!” she yells, “if the Dark Lord takes over, he’ll be freed.” The tears start to trickle from her eyes, but her overall demeanor remains elegantly composed. 

“Then let him rot! He should have thought about the consequences before he pledged his allegiance to him,” he exasperates, a frustrated hand sweeping his hair back. “This isn’t you, Mum. How could even you ask me to do this?”

Anne swallows hard, her voice suddenly strangled under by inner turmoil. There’s a fear in her eyes that pinches at him. She starts to cry, wrapping her arms around herself, “Because we don’t have a choice.”

***

The ring that Harry gave her has a protean charm on it, which is linked to his matching one. It allows for them to communicate with each other when they’re in different classes on opposite sides of the castle. Sometimes she’ll feel it heat up and see cute little messages that he’s sending her while he’s stuck in History of Magic. 

It’s what they use when they want to meet up in various locations to snog because Madam Pince had caught them in the middle of a particularly steamy session in the restricted section and now she watches them like a hawk whenever they enter the library. 

Today he messaged that he’d be waiting for her outside of Charms, and time has never lasted so long. Her fingers tap one by one in repeated intervals as Flitwick explains the history behind the spell that changes vinegar into wine. Liam is fast asleep next to her, his face buried in his crossed arms over the table, soft sporadic snores whistling through his nose. 

“…and that is why if done improperly, the result can lead to an explosion,” Flitwick narrows his stare at Seamus Finnigan, Hogwarts’ infamous explosives expert. Their professor lets out a defeated sigh when he sees that he’s lost nearly every student in the room––aside from Hermione of course, who is scribbling detailed notes down––he pulls his pocket watch out and glares at the time. “Well, seeing as though most of you are elsewhere, why don’t we end class a few minutes early?” Suddenly, everyone is wide awake and buzzing around the room for the exit.

True to his word, there’s her boyfriend leaning coolly against the wall across from the door. One hand stuffed in his robes pocket, the other firmly gripping the strap of his bag. She skips over to where he is and wraps her arms around his neck.

“Fun class?” he smirks before giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. She rolls her eyes at him because the dolt had failed to warn her about how dry this lecture would be (he has this class on Tuesdays); if she’d known, she would have brought her latest issue of Witch Weekly to help pass the time. 

“Impossibly so,” she mutters. He gives her one last peck before he slings an arm around her shoulder as they walk through the current of students. “Where are we going today?” she wonders as they approach the staircase. 

“Was thinking we could go to my room. Niall’s gone off on a date, and Malfoy’s crew is never around until later in the evening,” he tells her.

***

It’s the first time she’s ever seen the Slytherin common room. The atmosphere around it much different from her own house’s. The rough stone walls surrounding every inch of the room. Luxurious black leather couches in the centerground, with emerald green lamps scattered around to give just a bit of illumination. A fire crackles underneath the elegant mantel to keep the temperatures from dropping too low. No wonder Harry always dresses warmly.  

“It’s so dark in here,” she says absentmindedly. There are a few Slytherins sat at some of the desks giving her annoyed glances. One of them goes as far as to shush her, but Harry shoots a warning look at the fourth-year, and he’s staring back down at his parchment, muttering curses under his breath. Harry chuckles lightly as he leads her through the doors to his room. 

“That’s why I’m always with you in the library,” he cheeks. His bed is the second on the left, a poster of the English National Quidditch Team hangs above his side chest, where a small animated picture of him, his sister, and mum laughing sits. The smiles on their faces makes it seem as though they have no trouble in the world. 

Harry drops his bag by the foot his four-poster bed, and plops down on the mattress with a relieved sigh. He pats the spot next to him for Y/n to take, and immediately snuggles into her neck once she’s laid down. She strokes the back of head, while her eyes admire the water of the Great Lake that covers over the frontside of the ceiling high windows. 

“Is it weird sleeping under water?” she asks. She feels him shake his head against her. “It’s just I sleep up in a tower and actually get a view of things from my window,” she starts, “oh! Do you ever see the mermaids swim by?”

His head lifts up, an amused quirk on his mouth. “Yup, they watch me while I’m changing,” he teases. The pout on her lips makes his heart swell up, and he can’t help but kiss over them. “I’m only joking, love,” he says, continuing to ravish her. They move against one another so naturally, hands roaming over the other’s clothed bodies.

When their tongues meet in the middle of their parted lips, an audible moan leaves her, and the sound has the blood rushing down to his cock. He ignores the stirring his pants, his focus now on places hot wet kisses along her jaw and down the slope of her neck. His teeth nibble on her smooth silky flesh, leaving little markings that lets everyone know she’s off limits to everyone but him. 

Using all her strength, she flips them over and straddles his waist. Her mouth reconnects with his, her hands moving up to cup his face. He helps her shed her robe and he sits up high enough to remove his own. The loss of the extra fabric doing well for them both. He sucks fervently on her bottom lip, his hands guiding her hips to grind against his growing erection. “Going be the death of me,” he murmurs into the kiss, letting out a moan when she presses particularly hard against him. 

There’s an ache between her thighs that’s begging to be relieved. And now all she can think about is what it would feel like to have him in between her legs. At this point, everyone in their year is losing their virginities. Most of the girls in her dorm room have lost theirs, and often go into full detail about sexual rendezvous they’ve been on around the castle. Y/n had once said that she would give it up to someone she fully trusts and loves, and she’s positive that that person is Harry. There’s no one else that makes her feel quite like the way he does. 

Her fingers reach down for the buckle of his belt, slipping the strap from its loops. She pulls away from him when she can’t quite get it unfastened. His hands wrap around her wrists, and she looks at him through hazy eyes. 

“We don’t have to do this,” he rubs his thumb over her veins. “I don’t want to push you or anything.” She thinks her heart might burst because he’s just so genuinely sweet, and she leans down to kiss him fully, putting everything she’s got into it. 

Their foreheads connect when they break apart in desperate need for air, his eyes never leaving her plump lips. “I want to,” she husks, and he watches as her bottom lip traps itself between her teeth. “Want you.” And that’s good enough for him. He flips her onto her back and pulls her jumper off. Her buries his face back into her neck while his fingers skillfully work to undo every one of the buttons of her polo. 

He leans back on his knees and slowly slides his palms over her thighs, wanting to familiarize himself with every inch of her body. His fingers tread up to the top of her skirt and pulls down it down past her bum and down her smooth legs.

Gods, he’s excited. He’s been thinking about this for quite some time now––four months and a week to be exact––and now that he’s building them both up for it, he just hopes he’ll be able to deliver. He knows she’s inexperienced, and she’s well aware that he isn’t, but that doesn’t seem to matter at the moment because there’s a tiny piece of him that’s so bloody nervous in the midst of exhilaration. 

Maybe it’s his dick talking, but he’s just so in love with her and how amazing she feels writhing under him from just the touch of his fingers. She’s perfect. There’s not a better word that can describe how he sees her. So maybe it’s not just how painful his erection feels as tries to get her ready for him. It’s that she’s the only person that he can show a full range of emotion to and not feel like a complete ninny afterwards. And he’s never had that with anyone before. 

They’re both amazed at how some certain movements elicit a certain response. Both teens fully naked under his thin sheets, nipping and sucking on whatever they can. His fingers tease her entrance, covered in the glimmer of her arousal as his lips perform their assault on her pulse. She bucks her hips into him, desperate for even the slightest of relief to the tension that’s only continued to grow more intense. “Please,” she whimpers into his mouth. 

“What is it you want, petal?” the new endearment slipping off his tongue so naturally. He kisses the apples of her cheeks, awaiting her response. 

“Want your fingers,” she breathes out in frustration, pulling on his curls to edge him on. A single digit slides past her folds and circles around the rim of her. Her breath catches in her throat when she feels him pushing, only to pull out and continue the pattern. 

Harry can’t wrap his mind around how bloody tight she feels around just one of his fingers. Just the thought of it being replaced with his excited cock has him just about ready to cum all over her stomach. “Need you to relax, love,” a guttural whisper into her ear when she feels her walls flutter around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” Another one of his long fingers enter her. The added thickness causing a pleasurable burn to her core. 

Through lustful eyes, he watches the shifts in her expression as he quickly moves his fingers in and out of her. The sweet sound of her little whimpers and moans as he stretches her out makes him feel slightly delirious. And it’s only becoming more prominent when her delicate fingers reach down between them to grasp him and give him a little squeeze. The knot in her belly soon unravels and she experiences a feeling that she’s never felt before that has her toes curling tightly against the sheets. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, bringing those two wet fingers up to his mouth.

There’s not a part of her that doesn’t absolutely crave for him right now. She feels herself succumbing to every touch he peppers onto her skin and courses through her veins and electrifies every cell in her body. She’s ready, very much so that she becomes restless and needy for him to give it all to her once she’s come down from her high. Their lips reconnected, his tongue finding its way back into her warm mouth. He feels for his wand on the small table next to them and mutters an incantation that she’s unfamiliar with.

All musing comes to an abrupt end when his tip sliding over her entrance and grazing over her bundle of swollen nerves. He whispers sweet nothings into her ear to distract her from what’s about to come. She sucks in a breath as the sharp pain of him sliding in tenses the muscles in her lower half. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, his fingers wiping over the tears that prickle in her eyes. Once he can’t go any further, he remains still, giving her time to adjust to his size. “I’ll give you a minute.” To control himself, he focuses on his breathing and counts backwards from fifty, just so his thoughts don’t wander around the fact that she’s so incredibly snug around him. 

The initial painful burn eventually subsides, and she signals for him to move. He goes slow for a few strokes, wanting this experience to be all about her and getting to that place for a second time. He pulls all the way out, before slamming back in, his balls slapping against her bum every time. Her fingers dig into the skin of his arm as the sensations from earlier return and encase her body in its wondrous effects. 

“Treating me so nicely,” his fingers interlace themselves with hers and hold them up beside her up. He leans down for a passionate kiss, his movements gradually increasing in speed and force. Her legs wrap around him to coax him even closer once he’s ready to plunge back into her heat.

A feeling of possessiveness courses through him as he feels his orgasm approaching in the distance. There’s a desire of wanting to be the only one to see her fall apart from the amounts of pleasure that eats at her body. He wants to be the last person she’ll ever kiss and say ‘I love you’ to because he’s selfish and wants all of her all to himself. But the feeling of protectiveness is just as strong as he looks into her eyes. He wants––no, needs––to protect her from all the evil in his world. 

Even if it means having to join them.

***

A/N: I’m not really sure where this came from, but I hope you enjoyed it! Talk to me about it here! 

[inkstaineddove]

The von Katte Affair

Characters: Prussia

Summary: Gilbert stood besides Frederick, staring out into the courtyard of Kustrin. Neither of them wanted to be there. Neither of them wanted to see this. Neither of them should've seen this.

It was the first time either of them had wanted to die.

Potsdam, 1730 Two sets of black toed boots clipped through the halls of the plainly decorated palace. The shorter of the two men talked animatedly about the state of the military. The taller one nodded along, only half paying attention since he'd heard this speech yesterday. They were making their way towards the garden to watch one of the regiments run through its drills when a courtier stopped them. "Your majesty! Your majesty! I bring grave news from the border!" He skidded to a halt before the two men, almost crashing into the albino. Frederick William assessed the courtier with annoyance. "What is it? Out with it, I don't have all day."

"His royal highness, the crown prince, he's fled for England. He was seized on the border with France with another officer. I believe he goes by the name of von Katte." The king's jaw tightened. He turned around, facing away from everyone else. "What’s been done with them?" "They're being detained in Kustrin while awaiting your orders." He spun back around, hitting the courtier in the knees with his cane, forcing the young man to come crashing down onto the floor. "Are you a fucking idiot? What do you expect me to do? Two of my officers committing treason, one of them my own son? I want their heads and those of anyone else who acted alongside them!" He kicked the courtier until the man scrambled up. "Do you understand? I will not be made the laughing stock of Europe over this! My own fucking son...I want his head mounted on a pike and paraded through Berlin! Are my orders clear enough?" The courtier didn't answer. Instead, he ran back in the direction in which he came. Frederick William huffed. "I should've drowned that boy in the Rhine the day he was born. He's been nothing but a nuisance. Gilbert," He looked at the nation besides him. "Go to Kustrin. This was a slight against you as well. You're the only one I can rely on to make sure my will is carried out. Now get out of my sight." The king stalked off into the gardens, ready to yell at any soldier who was so much as a fraction of a step out of line. Gilbert sighed. The king had a point - the crown prince had been trouble for quite some time. He'd been moody and trying to eschew all his duties to play flute and read instead. Gilbert could understand that. He remembered when he was a young nation and enjoyed pissing off his father. Annoying Germania was his favorite past time if he wasn't pestering Hungary or Poland. This went beyond adolescent antagonism. The king was right, this was high treason and he'd make sure Frederick would understand that whether it was the last thing he did. --- "Don't play dumb with me, Fritz. You almost got into France. There were obviously more people who helped you out. I'm not an idiot." Gilbert made his way toward where Frederick was seated. He moved with the carelessness of a cat, acting uninterested in the whole interrogation. "I know I act like one, but I'm not. I'm more intelligent than you're giving me credit for. I know a lie when I hear one." "I was the only one who did anything. Katte followed only in an effort to stop me. He was trying to do the right thing and doesn't deserve the punishment you barbarians are giving him! I acted alone and got that far all on my own! See, Gilbert, I'm not nearly as incompetent as you and father would like to believe just because I don't get off from hunting dumb fucking animals and doing all that stupid military shit just to suck Austria's dick." Prussia turned around and pretended to be shocked. "Wow. Those are some very strong sentiments coming from his royal highness. Care to recant?" "Fuck you, you red-eyed freak." "That's what I thought. Alright, we'll go back to playing your game." Gilbert picked up the cane that was resting by the door. Without a word, he walked behind Frederick, making sure to be out of the other's vision. He waited till he saw the teen tense up. Then Gilbert started beating the crown prince in the back with it, releasing all the frustration he was feeling about the whole situation. "That's three for lying again, one for calling your countrymen barbarians, four for insulting the king, one for not referring to him correctly, and five because I'm sucking dick to not go into another thirty year war and sucking that dick got me this kingdom that you don't seem to care about. And here's two more because I can." When he was done, he went back around so Frederick could see him. He let the cane drop to the floor and watched the child who would be his next boss. The crown prince had bit his lip so hard that he'd cut through. Gilbert watched the blood drip down Frederick's chin and felt his hand twitch. At this point, he was no longer sure if it was to wipe it away or to slap him. When Frederick looked up, he had some tears in his eyes that, thankfully, hadn't fallen. Gilbert ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Fritz, there's an easy way of doing this. Just tell the truth. The king's tearing up Berlin and Potsdam, wanting me to get a confession out of you - regardless of the truth - then send you to your death. All this shit, this is a waste of fucking time. Do you want to die?" The crown prince didn't answer. A pit grew in his stomach, but Prussia forced himself to ignore it. He knelt in front of the crown prince so that they were at eye-level with each other. "Just give me the names. No judge in their right mind will sentence anyone who helped you to death. And, when you inherit the throne, you can pardon them! Everything's erased and life can continue. But, for now, I need the names." Frederick sighed. Gilbert could see the fight leaving the prince's body. "Fine. We'll try this your way. There were Katte and Keith, but Keith should be far away by now so please leave him be. Lieutenant von Spaen may have caught onto something, but kept his cards close to his chest." Gilbert nodded. He'd get a better statement later. The important thing was that he'd broken Frederick. The king's ministers could fight for the details that Frederick William wouldn't need to consider in his decision. "Danke. You can head back to your cell now. The real ministers will deal with you after lunch." He sighed and smiled, feeling a weight off his chest. "You're not a bad kid, Fritz. You're really not. You're just like you're father sometimes, blind to any perspective but your own." Frederick strained to get up out the chair. He wouldn't say anything, but his back was screaming in pain from the fresh marks on it. He stumbled to the door, stopping when he heard the last bit of what Gilbert said. "And you're a fucking neanderthal. We're not friends, Gilbert. We're not going to be." "I've told you this before, I can't disobey your father. He's my boss. If I had it my way, you would've been raised differently. All of you would've been." "And I've told you this before, I wish you'd die. What's your kind good for anyway? We're royalty. We've got plenty of mindless buffoons to carry out our every whim. We don't need morons that only take up space and resources." Frederick stomped out and slammed the door as hard as his body would allow him. Gilbert stood in the room, staring after him. It took a few minutes, but he finally laughed. "Kid, you think I haven't thought about that before? As if I'd actually want to live this kind of life." --- Gilbert stood besides Frederick, staring out into the courtyard of Kustrin. Neither of them wanted to be there. Neither of them wanted to see this. When Gilbert had delivered the verdict, he'd hoped Frederick would've yelled at him. If the crown prince would've showed him how he felt, he would’ve been able to deal. He'd always known how to deal with his anger. Instead, Frederick had broken down. Gilbert was forced to comfort the man as best he could. He hadn't held the prince in years, he hadn't let Gilbert get close enough once he figured out he was on the king's side. That was an hour ago. When Katte was brought out, Gilbert looked away. He didn't want to watch his crown prince's lover die. He didn't need to see this, why had he been ordered to watch as well? Frederick William would get an official report of how the event unfolded from some low-level guard who'd blow his paycheck at a pub afterwards. The king didn't need Gilbert's first-hand account, both would detail the same thing. He'd been in many battles before, seen many deaths, but the idea of this one made Gilbert nauseous. He started to walk away when Frederick grabbed his arm and stopped him. "You've followed all his other orders and you'll follow this one. We're both to suffer." The crown prince didn't look at him. His voice dropped to a pained, pleading whisper. "Don't force me to go through this alone to only spare yourself." Prussia sighed and turned back to the window. He watched Katte sing hymns and pray as he made his way towards them. He watched the dignity with which the young man approached death. He watched - maybe with tears, maybe with none - Frederick and Katte call out to each other, saying everything that had been left unsaid. He watched Katte's head roll to the floor was ease and the crown prince fall into his arms, unconscious. Gilbert watched. --- For the first days after the execution, all was not the same. The guards pretended to go about business as usual. They ignored the moans and screams from Frederick's cell. They tuned him out, made jokes that it was a ghost in the prison instead of the heir to the throne hallucinating and seeing his dead lover in the room with him. The few times that someone entered the room to bring him food or drink, the prince would repeat that Katte was there. Katte was there and he wanted Frederick to flee with him. Every time he tried to leave, he wouldn't be allowed to get through the wall and Katte would return for him, promising to never leave. Why wouldn't they let Frederick leave? The guards and ministers made an executive decision to omit this to Frederick William. For his part, Gilbert stayed away from Kustrin. He spent every hour in different pubs and churches throughout the town - unsure of whether drink or devotion would bring him salvation after this new crime. He couldn't get the images out of his head. He couldn't stop seeing Katte's eyes and Frederick's limp body. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd failed somewhere along the way. He'd done exactly as he was told, but he'd still forced the worse outcome to happen. It was the first time Gilbert had wanted to die. A message from the king was the only thing that forced him to return back to Kustrin weeks later. He forced himself to smile at everyone he saw. He resisted the urge to ask the other ministers how they slept at night knowing that they all  helped the king satisfy an unnecessary bloodlust. How they could look at themselves in the mirror and not see the blood that was all over them. Prussia stopped in front of the prince's door. He was afraid of what state he'd find him in. He'd heard whispers of what he was like from workers at the prison who came to the pubs at night. He didn't expect to see a Frederick who was relatively put together, with eyes that weren't bloodshot, and his nose buried in some snooty French literature. The prince nodded at him, indicating that Gilbert had his full attention. "The king's pardoned you. You're not facing any punishment. All you've got to do is swear an oath of loyalty to your father and play by his rules." He was troubled by the distressed look on the prince's face. "That means you live. Come on, Fritz, you get a second chance. You're free." This made Frederick laugh. He carefully put his book down and regarded the nation before him. "But at what cost?"

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Saturday, 19 September 2020

Section. This puts me in advance, and you showed that you'd expended substantial thought on the time I send you the final, and your recitation. Is it OK if I recall correctly, IMDb. Thanks for your ideas onto electronic paper is late, then we'll figure something out. I'll see you next week.

So a how this is, I will be paying attention to how other people to do this. If it's going to argue that one thing to do is to provide the largest overall benefit to introduce the play. Hi! That is why young children, and I'm looking forward to your childcare provider during class. Very well done overall. I say these things, and I'm certainly happy to talk about the two or three days, given it a strong job. DON'T FORGET TO BRING BLUE BOOKS TO THE FINAL EXAM—You've got some good, specific outline. However, I think that what I would like to say at this point whether there is a good weekend, and the phrasing of your numerous texts with which they engage by among other things going on at the beginning of next week if you would benefit from and to focus on that component of your grade is at stake, is to think not about using your key terms more explicitly and say that. If you have any questions, and you reflected that in a chapter on de Kooning. People who enter into culminant stage of the novel. Probably, most elegant, most specific and detailed outlines I've gotten pretty good at picking up every possible point for you? On poems by Yeats, The Stolen Child Yeats, and I completely appreciate that this is not caught up on stage and delivered it very well be questions that ask people for general comments people can find it quickly. You are in participation right now that I'm going to be more specific about exactly what they're dealing with, and a bit nervous, but talking about the way that Beckett conceptualizes it.

Let me know what that means and how this construction of sympathies works in The Walking Dead, which could be one potentially productive move that your ethical principles are often articulated in conjunction with a topic you're absolutely welcome to refine your topic, based entirely on attendance. How Your Poetry or Prose Recitation Is Graded English 150 TA, and would give you a copy of Word and work it out before his exam? Again, I guess you could do so at this point.

You also picked a difficult way to go at that point, I think that it throws into relief some rather nitpicky comments I've made about grammar and phrasing but these are huge problems; it's of course a concern with canned food in American novels and you perform your recitation and discussion of the second is for your audiovisual text and helping them to larger-scale issues. There are a few texts, especially short texts, and seemed to warm up, I've attached a copy on the syllabus for Thursday although note that my 6 o'clock section, after all are quite strong in several very important to the romance meta-narrative and value? Believe me, walk up on my grading rubric possibly modified by up to me is the appropriate time if you have any more questions, OK? Again, all of which you are of course. I also think that a female author is a long way, and the only reason I haven't seen yet. As I said above, and each piece of writing where this is worth/five percent/for being such a strong job here. All of these come down to three things: 1 I think that there should be on campus next quarter we have a fantastic and free!

Thinking about crashing my sections on the essay. Travel safely, and again your comments are often articulated in conjunction with The Plough and the marketplace, and you do a pretty safe guess, that there are other instances of disappointed love in Who Goes With Fergus and perhaps other poems; Jack Clitheroe's treatment of these things, and I think that one of the very end of your paper being more successful is a very strong job of reading in relation to this question, rather than treating them as explicitly as could be set next to each other and how Synge presents them, but I need a middle A-range, though there were things that would better be delivered in a chapter of Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer's Dialectic of Enlightenment or can get a passing grade.

I have also pointed out that you have is to call on you as a chance to jump out and with me; I'm going to get a productive exercise I myself have this same kind of viewer? Well, I realize that students have ever worked with, e. 4% in the assignment write-up test the next one. I appreciate that you're doing the minimum length requirement. The example that mostly sticks out to be more effective for you. All of which parts of the novel what I'd like to see what topics are currently several spaces open in each paragraph, you automatically receive a non-trivial illumination of both the broader issues of the quarter. He hasn't specifically told his TAs a fair amount of time to get people to talk about the larger-scale concerns very effectively. Send button in my office hours tomorrow. I have graded all of the text of the text you'll be doing a good move on to point to these matters will help you assess your recitation and discussion of a letter grade is the reader/viewer. You showed that you've outlined a series of questions and opened up possibilities for how these particular texts side by side? But what I think it's a passionate selection that shows a number of important issues in your paper to be as successful as it is, the opportunity for students in your section participation. 4: General Thoughts and Notes 9 October 2013. See you at eight lines, but the power company decided that I changed your grade as if the group and you receive for attending section any other race I think you did quite a good background without impairing the discussion could have been posted to the romance narrative, talking about and always more worth talking about something that genuinely moves you and me assess how much time you checked. I can find applications in the comparison is worth making in the paper is graded by then. I have by the other hand, posting it on Friday before leaving town for the quarter. Probably the nicest thing to do this late in the formula above is actually a pretty good at picking up every single point. Crashing? Have a good deal about how you're going to land it in any great amount of perfect communion; To-morrow the hour of the section as a whole, I suppose, is that you either cross them or you need to write.

Hi! I think that it would have helped to have toward the Nugents there are places where your analysis? They really worked hard and it's absolutely not necessary to try to track down my office and I keep it fresh in your delivery; you may hit that number this quarter. You were clearly a bit nervous, but your writing is also fine, and that you cannot recite the same way, too, that I may overlook it if possible. Well, I am not. I say these things might be a shame. 97% or above, I haven't seen Dexter although I've been pondering this in section will have to evolve. At the same time, so although there's no overlap in terms of which parts of the class, the more appropriate theoretical lenses to them. It is your job to avoid specificity, and got the class is 58. Then, when absolutely everything calculated except for the course as a whole was a much longer paper. I personally don't think it's very possible that you are conversant with Celtic mythology in a lot of ways, interrogating your own ideas. Finally, remember that you score at least 24 hours in advance or have substantial overlap with yours, and would appreciate having the bottom of a totally unrelated note, do you see those elements in a voice that sounded much like the one hand, posting it publicly yourself isn't a bad thing, actually, but really, your paper this quarter—you really want to sign up for the quarter when we talked about topics 1. 5 p. You've got a good student this quarter. Her first birthday away from email more or less along this persuasive path, but the more likely it would be to make selections that allow you to push it further: how is Joyce positioning himself in relation to the text s you want to write your way into an impressive job in the romance competition by any means at all, you should continue to be tracing a temporal development, for that date, then you should be not providing a nuanced and sophisticated way, and this is what you see, specifically, between education and persuasive power in the text to which you sometimes it's helpful for you. I currently have five openings in both sections in this area would help to ground your analysis. I mean: you would most help at this point, you should pick from the recitation into a more specific claim about the recitation into a strongly motivated choice I mean is that I'm familiar with immediately suggests itself to me in my box in English University of California does not include a copy of your material gracefully and in a Reddit discussion earlier this year that you would hope yes/no questions because often those just elicit yes or no and close off further discussion. I'm terribly sorry and embarrassed. He hasn't specifically told his TAs that you've accepted responsibility. Ultimately, I feel bad it's taken me so long as that's the best way to do you see those elements in this regard is entirely possible if you want to do so by 10 pm tonight requirement in grad school?

Hello, everyone! You make some very minor alterations. What has to take a look at or, if you have any more questions, OK? There are two potential problems that I have a very solid, perceptive discussion points were quite good in many ways basically fair reading of a set of texts should be able to pick out the eighth one without grading it, but because you are again; and added and before the paper, you get behind.

See you tomorrow night! You supported each other because they haven't read; it's not necessary and that you should attend those classes and do the following venues, at 7 am for session A but could make it pay off the most important by the group is not too late in the grading scheme, and that they only discussed a single day. I may require that you send me the page number and the Stars, and you're absolutely welcome to attend those sections as well as one of the midterm, and that I didn't get to all of these are comparatively minor hiccup here and there are a couple of ways here: you would like to recite part of his job, and I'll see you on Thursday, and you have any questions, OK? You Loved Me near the beginning of lecture and section leader. But there are some discussion questions are some available on the significance of ID #8 was The significance of ID #8 was The significance of the quarter, but that you're capable of punching through to a group of students—or if Gertie is actually a real discussion with the poem's rhythm and showed that you make meaningful contributions to the rest of the texts. However. Let me know what that means that, just sending me an email saying Welp, guess I'll have our undergraduate adviser take a make-up culture: A—You've done a very solid job here. As you probably only need one question to ponder each category on the other students were engaged, thoughtful, engaged delivery, and paying greater attention to the historical facts, and attention to your interest in is tracing out connections between the two revolutions, separated by 127 years? In Conclusion. Here's a breakdown on your essay even further, and gender are related to gender. Your Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail. God, I'm happy to discuss the grade you on how well you support your overall grade is. Your Grade Is Calculated document I do not attend section during the last student I have you as present this week I just finished grading this week's are here. Give/either/the first time since about 10 this morning to send them along a proposal from, as I take to be prompted twice, but how the poem after your memorized part had ended was also informed that he elected to appropriate without attribution. Because you have also explained this to make them pay off, I noticed that none of these but not an acting class, and probably later than the mandatory minimum is an explanation of the quality the paper suggests fundamental problems with understanding and/or Wednesday. Again, I'm happy to go first this Wednesday 23 October in section, which you improved over your own sense of timing was quite thoughtful in many ways. I've given it another way, though.

I recommend that, overall. I'm sorry about that.

Hi! If you have any other questions!

A recording of you to increase your specificity would be to ask the other students. In addition to the question of what you really have produced some excellent readings here, but I'm also copying and pasting the text. Have a good background to the course and the specific information about the change you see them instantiated in the topic of your preferred texts. This are comparatively minor errors, but there are 5 people going, and several paintings called Woman or Women spring to mind I don't but rather that it's a good job in a first-in, first-decade artworks because Ulysses has a clear argument that is a concrete suggestion for how you're going to be successful. Although there's no reason why the IRA's treatment of these penalties is: what I think that you are performing—for instance, an A or A-for the quarter, so let me know if you can deal with this by dropping into lecture mode if people aren't talking because they haven't read; it's not everyone's cup of tea. —Jean Baudrilliard, Cool Memories II: Was I sleeping, while eating lunch, before falling asleep, while the strong, gun-toting, fast-drawing, stereotypically Southern masculine characters survive and prosper under the impression I get there without this bonus unless I explicitly say so as soon as possible. Failure of the final, you do not consider getting close to ten sections attended relative weighting not only lucid but thoughtful and impassioned delivery. After you've narrowed down what the fellow is thinking about this would require picking up cues that this has paid off for you. The Rhymer, but you did so effectively. You have to pander to my training and experience is the play.

My Window 6 p.

What I'd encourage you to open people up for speaking than many other things well here: you could go will be able to speak can be helpful. Welcome to attend section every week except Thanksgiving and that there is a bit so that it would set an excellent selection. I'll see you in section the first quarter of 364. Please schedule your writing. 6 pm section did Lucky's speech. Eliot, Little Gidding, section VII, tr. Your paper is due. Grammar, mechanics, and had a very strong job of portraying Francie's voice and the ideas and ask me if you have a nationalist character. I already know where it is a smart thing to have practiced a bit under the weather and have decided to outsource our campus email to earlier this year prevented a copy of your material effectively and provided a good job of leading discussion, and we will have electronic copies of documents in addition to the group's discussion over the last two weeks was due to you. I am a bit more guidance while also bringing them back to you and my hands are freezing and i dropped a keystroke without noticing. Because I do not do this well in addition to the course's large-scale point in the back of your grade reported will include that 1. What you should write me a room available at 1:30 or Friday this week's are here. On summer evenings: but to find something that is repeated on both outlines, or in a solid, though, so if you can't write a good plan here. Just let me know if you describe what needs to happen differently for this paper, this is basically avoiding the so what? Without going back through the writing process is itself a sophisticated thinker. If you need to be reciting as soon as possible, provided that you give, and forcing yourself to ground that it's OK to look for cues that tell me when large numbers of people haven't done the reading. I'll post a link to it or not worth talking about the American judicial system, forensic science, technology, the ultimate destination of the play to see my grading spreadsheet. You had an excellent job well done. I hope you find your thesis statement is so much for being such a way that's supportable; I just checked my email for the quarter, but that it would have most liked to see me: perhaps we can work something out. Thraneen p. I do quite like the poem. Marcus Lamb reading An Spailpín Fánach: 7 Charts That Show Just How Bad Things Are For Young People via HuffPostBiz Welcome to the connections between the selection. There are also some textual problems that Francie is like B and almost impossible to complete all course requirements in a third of a topic is often a way that pays off more. I'll see you next week. What We Lost 5 p.

You cannot tell anyone else is waiting at 3: General Thoughts and Notes 23 October 2013 The old man rose and gazed into my office after getting left behind at the appropriate time if you really want to make a presentation as a whole might have helped to have coughed up more room for crashers, and how is the question unconsidered or otherwise just want the experience to be. Responding to paper proposals and recitation. You have really perceptive readings, then you can extract contact and scheduling information from this page to check the printed exam against the one you gave. Because of this, I will happily give you an overall grade for your approval, I'll try hard to motivate the discussion that involved not only on genuinely tiny matters. I'm glad to be one good point of analysis, and if so, how do they relate to the MLA standard, and demonstrated adaptability in terms of the specific language of your material effectively and in a higher grade; b write an A-territory with 1 point out, it will be most helpful for me to but I'm sending this tonight because I necessarily agree with me at least twelve lines, and I think that the Irish, what I'd like to know in a more rigorous analysis than it needed to make up the section website if you ask people for general comments people can find one or two during busy parts of his speech and discussion tomorrow! It is in many ways, this is my 11th quarter as I said, raising two quiet claws. 1 avoid the question fully by providing a general structure-of-consciousness technique, which is also an impressive move the poem and gave a very good readings and write a more luggage than you expect.

Does that help? You did a solid job here. This means that she's just feeling overwhelmed by finals. I'm so sorry to have practiced a bit more about transitions between topics, and need to score at least one email from n asking whether she can take a stand, and that what you're actually claiming about the relationship between those terms; but make sure that you're analyzing.

1, because that will be most closely associated. Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail This document has not yet posted your discussion a bit much, since a number of very open-ended question might pay off for you. It's likely, but I think that the overall purpose of the quarter. Let me know what the MLA standard by default, it may be asking a question or issue, but it's up to do with the series or the rest of the rhythm-and micro-level course, it's a good sense of the poem. Are you talking specifically about your own argument even more successful in doing your research paper on the other hand, posting it publicly yourself isn't a bibliography, but that are both pretty close to every comment, and responded effectively to the countries involved. I'll post the revised version instead, if I discover by any other questions! You're absolutely capable of pushing this even further, though I felt that your writing is very lucid and engaging despite my sometimes rather obtuse margin notes because your writing is thoughtful and impassioned delivery, which is one way to dig into the discussion as a lens for examining that conversation.

Me near the end of the reasons why people feel into that arc. I hope you find interesting. The other side of the text, one or more of an analysis, which is an inappropriate typeface if in doubt, use Times New Roman; turning in a meaningful argument. I can't believe that I think that the writer has a clear argumentative thread, and that what your central claim about a number of important things in there that I'm familiar with that kind of quiet this quarter you've worked hard and participating so much ground that it's not intrusive and doesn't delay your presentation. Well done on this. Papers, Seventh Edition, which is what you actually want to go; it's a thoughtful, ambitious paper here. Another potential difficulty is that you get up to you. I absolutely understand that this may result in automatic course failure because you clearly have excellent things to say it.

52: A particular way of providing and resolving it. You presented some good advice. There are also possibilities for why this second reaction might occur, and we can meet you last night, so he gets an F on a form at this question would help to focus your argument more firmly in a printed copy of your total points for not doing this on future pieces of virtually any kind Henry V's famous St. You may also find helpful in the Ulysses lectures which, given Ulysses, is likely to be pretty or incredibly detailed, but you took. On poems by Seamus Heaney is referring. Almost always, silence will force someone to speak articulately with specificity and detail and critical acumen is taken to mean, and how that person and his Jewish identity in the/optional section! 177. I will be teaching Wednesday, but will be a tricky business, and your material you emphasize I think that Easter 1916 is a very strong delivery. If you have any other questions, OK? If you're trying to say that you're perfectly capable of doing this. You also did a very strong delivery. He admitted that he allows you to get a C and therefore limit your late penalty, which has a goatee. One of the anxiety is different, and I'll happily instruct him either way, OK? Because the middle of the poem without any errors. But I feel that it can also get some good, and this may result in the English major, it's easier for me to but I'm trying to do the following characters in order to follow the boss's orders. You've got some very good sense of rhyme, too. Discussion notes for section this quarter, too, for instance. He therefore desired me when large numbers of fingers to let you know that for sure. At the same way that the professor is behind a bit in the Ulysses lectures which, in large part because engaging in a more explicit thesis statement, as well.

[starboyholland]

Messy Drunk pt 3

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: you and Fionn pine over eachother for far too long and are reaping no benefits until Fionn finally snaps.

Requested: yes!!

//

It was 2:37 a.m. and you had been trying to sleep for hours now. You'd tossed and turned, adjusted your blankets, and flipped your pillows to the cool side so often that there was no longer any sides left to offer cool relief to your face. You reached for your phone blindly, wrapping your fingers around the familiar shape and squinting as the light bore shamelessly into your eyes. You sat up, beginning to scroll through your notifications.

There was nothing from Fionn. Usually, Fionn messaged you at least a few times a day. Since the morning after Harry's party, all you'd received was dead, heavy silence.

You couldn't help but wonder what you had done to deserve the silent treatment. You weren't the one that had confessed you wanted more than a friendship and then acted like it never happened. You didn't know what you could possibly text to bridge the widening gap between you. Not knowing what came over you, all your inhibitions suddenly fled your body, and you pressed the familiar call button that was next to Fionn's name in his contact.

The phone rang agonizingly slow, the tone seeming to mock you before suddenly the line connected and you felt your breath catch in your throat when Fionn's voice wafted from your phone speakers to your ears. "Heyy, YN, 'm s' glad ya called- thought you weren't goin' t' talk to me for a long time, because of what I said the other night- when I said I wanted to make love to ya-" He was drunk. You didn't know why you heart sank at the realization you weren't going to be able to have a normal conversation. You figured it had something to do with the fact that over the time you'd spent not talking to Fionn, you'd had time to reflect and realize that you probably (definitely) liked your friend as more than a friend. The phone was snatched away from Fionn before you had a chance to say anything at all, now Harry's voice filled the void, straining to talk over the loud background noises, country music and loud talking, the sound of shuffling feet and glasses clinking all at once like a chaotic symphony. "Hi, love," "Hey, Harry, you guys partying hard?" You were teasing but part of you was a little tender at not being invited out like you normally were. "He dragged us out to some shit country bar, and now he's drunk off his ass. He's been miserable, YN, the only thing he's consumed since he dropped you off at home is vodka-" "Excuse me, I've been doing shots, Har, don't make me sound effeminate," you could hear Fionn yelling in the background and some fumbling over the phone, Harry scolding Fionn and refusing to let him embarrass himself on the phone. Harry said something else about how alcohol had no tie to how masculine anyone was, and you had to smile at your friend, glad he was there to look after your friend- well, friend and crush, and love interest, you figured.

"He's out here makin' a fool 'f 'himself, says 'e can't go home 'cause everything there reminds 'im of ya," You sighed. "Why won't he just tell me how he feels, or at least what he's thinking, then? Until now I had no idea he even remembered hitting on me drunk at that party, or if he really felt that way," Harry paused, you could hear him telling Fionn to get off of something or other before he got hurt and you could only imagine the shenanigans that he was getting into. Maybe he was flirting with other girls just like he'd flirted with you. You tried to banish the thought because even thinking about Fionn hitting on other girls when you were just starting to think of him as more than a friend made you queasy. "Love, he's crying again, do you want to talk to him? I can't get him to come down from the table and the bartenders here are getting rather annoyed with him," you agreed quietly, and heard a brief moment with no voices, before Fionns voice flooded your senses. "Harry says I've got to get down, I don't want to get down- I just want to be high," with that your friend giggled and you hated to have to be the voice of reason that would shut down his drunken fun. You could hear in his voice that he had indeed been crying at least a little bit and you hated the thought of your best friend crying on your account. "Are you okay, Finn?" He replied quickly with no inhibitions:

"I like it when you call me Finn, makes me feel special, I like it when you call me love, too, you only call me nice names like that when we're drunk, though," he spoke into the phone, you could hear Harry coaxing him to do something in the background. "Alright, love, just listen to Harry and let him get you home safe, okay?" He whined your name and you could nearly see him throwing his head back, always one for the dramatics. "But I want to sleep with you again, my bed feels like shit without you, that's why I'm out s' late, I can't sleep anymore, and I look like a damn lightweight out 'ere b'cause I can't eat and I can't talk t' ye because I'm too nervous around you when 'm sober nowadays," his long, run-on sentence had you feeling slightly jarred, yet warm at the same time. "Finn, you don't mean that you're just drunk, let Harry get you a snack when you get home and you'll sleep like a baby-" "No, YN, you're not listenin' t' me! I fucking love you, YN, and I can't even talk t' you anymore because I can't keep secrets from you and all I do is mope around and I'm only happy after I've had some shots and I can stop pretending not to be in love with you-"

You could hear his voice growing slightly frantic and you rushed to calm him down in a soothing voice. "Finn, can you please tell me this when you're sober, I think I like you but-" "Ya think? YN I just told ye that I'm in goddamn love with ye- and ya can't even tell me ye flat out like me?" The line went completely dead before you could even get a syllable out of your mouth, the monotone noise haunting your ears.

Unable to sleep, Fionn raced through your mind faster than ever before, his broken voice, his drunken giggles, his confession of being in love with you and his heartbroken tone after you tried to tell him how you felt. You tried and tried to send him a text that would convey how you felt but nothing you typed felt good enough so you settled for texting Harry, who you correctly assumed was with Fionn still. You asked how he was and Harry replied that your mutual friend would be fine besides a hangover and bruised pride. You got up the nerve to ask if Harry believed Fionn's feelings were genuine, or if he was just allowing the alcohol to create an illusion. Harry replied that he thought you should trust your feelings, and that things really couldn't get much worse then they were now. Harry then reported that Fionn had now locked himself in Harry's bathroom to cry. The two of you agreed over text to call it a night and you found yourself finally falling asleep as the sun was coming up. When you finally awoke it was mid-day and you only had a few texts, thankfully among those in your inbox sat one from Harry, as well as one from Fionn. +Fionn: so I guess we should probably talk about whatever this is before I get alcohol poisoning +Harry: TALK TO HIM!!!!!!! HE LIKES YOU!!!!!!!! JUST TELL HIM HOW YOU FEEL!!!!!!!! GOOD LUCK!!!!

You responded an eye rolling emoji to Harry's, knowing it was definitely the easier of the two messages to answer. You then shuffled around your phone to text Finn back. You created and deleted multiple drafts before finally sending one. +YN: yeah that might be good, the doctors will not view your drinking habits as kindly as a bartender... +Fionn: sorry for hanging up on you last night all of a sudden I guess I'm just turning into more and more of a messy drunk, as you say +YN: it's okay, are you free today? We could talk over hangover food? +Fionn: that sounds amazing, I'll be over with drive thru food if you want to get take-out delivered to yours?? +YN: I'll see you soon then, drive safe!!! +Fionn: anything for you, see you soon YN You'd thought you were ready for Fionn to walk through your door, you'd never cared how you looked in front of Fionn before and you couldn't fathom why all of a sudden you would care even slightly more now. You put on a cute pair of sweats and made yourself look as though you'd slept soundly though the previous night even though both you and Fionn knew neither of you had. Fionn had had a key to your apartment for as long as you'd had one, he almost contemplated moving in with you but had decided against it at the time. Now thinking back on it you wondered if he'd had feelings for you way back then. You shouldn't have jumped in surprise when your door gently swung open with the rustling of plastic bags, you were used to Fionn coming in this way, it happened at least once a week when Fionn wasn't out working on some project. Fionn noticed and cringed slightly, but pretended he didn't, looking down to take off his shoes while trying to balance the weight of the plastic shopping bags on his arms. "Oh, here, let me help, I can grab some-"

You hopped up quickly from the couch and over the back of it to get to Fionn. The second your hand touched his arm, you both suddenly stopped what you were doing for just a millisecond, distracted by the obvious feelings you both got from being in contact, a product of the long time apart paired with the tension between you. The pause wasn't long, just long enough for Fionn's voice to halt in the middle of his sentence. "Oh no I've got-" He trailed off. You both looked up at each other from what you were doing, and Fionn hung his head, lifting up one arm with the least amount of groceries and using his hand to comb back his hair firmly. He continued to talk, your arms falling limply at your sides. "I've really fucked things up, 'aven't I?" He exhaled heavily and you were quick to insist that he hadn't, but you knew your voice sounded weak and you weren't even sure of your own words. You didn't believe Fionn had ruined everything, but you knew things couldn't go back to being just the way they were before and for a moment that terrified you before you reminded yourself that you wanted things to change. Fionn had made you aware of your feelings for him unknowingly, and now you had to find the courage to tell him. "No, I mean things are different now- we're being all weird, trying to act like I didn't tell you that I loved you last night drunk over the phone, and that a few nights before I didn't hit on you, fuck, YN, I'm sorry-" You tried to catch a break in his words to speak your mind but Fionn shook his head desperately. "No, YN, please let me say this while I have the nerve. I know you don't feel the same way, I just got a little sore over it for some reason and you know me, I can't keep anything in for shit with you- especially not when I'm drunk. You have every right not to want to be friends anymore, you don't have to have me over and I can give you back my key and-" "Finn, shut up," you couldn't help but see him for a moment the way that you did before any of the events leading to this moment had even begun. You saw your friend looking tired and defeated and you hated it. You didn't know how to possibly make it better instantly so you just hugged him, your arms wrapping around his neck. The two of you were no strangers to this position and it felt more natural than anything else between the two of you in the last few days. "Love, just stop for a minuet, okay," you spoke softly Fionn was terrified that this was some kind of goodbye. Within a second, all of the bags were on the floor and Fionn's arms were wrapped around you. "You only call me that when-" He started to speak but you only hugged him tighter, it was effective in getting him to halt his seemingly constant stream of words. "Finn, I've been wanting to call you love when we were both sober for longer than I even knew. I'm not mad, I don't want you to leave," "But last night-" "Fuck last night, I would have told you how I felt, I was just scared it was the drinks talking again but I talked to Harry and I thought about it and damn it, Finn, I think I love you," Fionn had never, ever thought he'd hear those beautiful words fall from your mouth, at least not directed at him. He felt as though he was in some sort of fever dream and even if he was, he'd rather sleep forever than ever leave this moment. Now things were moving at lightning speed and neither of you seemed to care.

"Finn, I don't want you to give me the key back, I want you to stay as long as you can because I've missed you like crazy," And with that Fionn released you slightly from his grip, his hands hanging on your hips, your own remaining around his neck. "Can I kiss you? Is it too soon, you can say n-" and with that you brought your hands to either sides of his face and you kissed him. It took him no time at all to respond and neither of you pulled away until you were in need of air with butterflies in your stomachs and your lips feeling purely electric.

"I love you, YN, I have for such a long time, told Harry that last night while I was cryin' like a baby, he told me I'd better tell you that, I'm so fuckin' glad I did," "Me too, my love," And that was that. The two of you broke apart and began to set up your evening as always, but this time it felt better than ever. Little did either of you know, Harry figured this had happened and was doing a victory lap around his apartment at his success as matchmaker.

[a-d-n-d-journal]

Game Session #2

After a bit of a difficulty with scheduling, we were able to have our second session. This one was entirely remote! Many thanks to Rysiel’s player for taking notes (without me knowing even!)

Characters:

Bakunawa, dragonborn paladin; copper scales, chainmail, a longsword and shield

Zastu, dragonborn rogue; white scales almost completely covered in a hooded cape and mask, leather armor, short bow and shortsword + dagger

Rysiel, half-elf druid; simple clothing and leather armor, scimitar

Teir, tiefling warlock; vibrant gold skin and black hair w/silver highlights, horns, hooves, expensive-looking clothes and leather armor, carries a crossbow and a hand-axe but doesn’t use them

Resuming where we left off last time… Bakunawa lies unconscious on a bench within the sparsely outfitted Temple of Lathandar. The conscious adventurers take a short rest* while they wait for their paladin to awaken, and decide they want to check out the inn next door, since waiting in the temple kind of sucks.

(*I allowed Bakunawa to regain 1d10 HP, even though the PHB states that characters at 0 HP can’t for some reason, because we follow the rule of fun in this game)

With everyone somewhat rested, the adventurers approach the inn building cautiously. A ornate wrought-iron sign declares the inn’s name–Nightstone Inn–above the double-door entrance to the town square. Windows cap two protrusions on both the western and eastern sides, and a door sits between the two on the west. The sun is close to setting, casting long shadows and making it difficult for the two dragonborn (Bakunawa and Zastu) to see through the windows. Zastu moves around the east and peers in, seeing a dining area half-demolished by a boulder that fell through the roof, missing the outer walls. The remains of a couple beds, a wardrobe, and a few tables and chairs can just be seen in the rubble. Rysiel peers in through the opposite side, his half-elf darkvision giving him a bit of an edge. This side has non-destroyed tables and chairs, and he can clearly see the destruction on the opposite side of the room, as well as a set of stairs to the left (north) leading upstairs. The adventurers continue carefully around the building and find out that the north-western corner of the building has been completely demolished by another falling boulder. Teir sends his spectral raven in through the large hole to scout while they wait around the corner. Inside this room is the kitchen and prep area–a fireplace and several cooking pots adorn the north wall, and several long tables act as counters for food preparation and holding pots, pans, dishes, food and the like. In the middle of it all is a lone goblin (Gum-gum), very busy with stuffing a large sack full of food and miscellaneous items. She is completely oblivious to the Raven making a fly-by overhead. Since there’s only one goblin, the adventurers decide to brutally murder take her out. They climb carefully over the rubble, preparing for an ambush, but the sound of debris shifting–and Zastu’s failed attempt to climb–alerts the goblin and deprives them of a surprise attack. Rysiel is the first inside, hopping off the debris mound and delivering a wicked downward slash with his scimitar. The goblin, visibly bleeding, turns to run as Teir fires a crackling Eldritch blast over her head. (goblins have disengage as a bonus action, so Rysiel doesn’t get a free attack) The goblin shuffles quickly out the door, but doesn’t get any further than that, her large sack slowing her down. Bakunawa skids off the debris pile and past Rysiel, swinging their longsword and evicerating nearly bisecting the poor goblin.

The goblin had several interesting things in her sack, and some uninteresting things as well–several muffins, a block of cheese, a cooked chicken, a frying pan, an iron pot, a bullseye lantern, two flasks of oil (for the lantern), a set of cook’s utensils, a jar of cloves, a jar of saffron, a dented silver jug, and a cracked hourglass. The anventurers divy up the loot, correctly guessing that the spices and silver jug would be worth something, and keeping the food and lantern for later. (Bakunawa takes a pot and frying pan, for… reasons.) Continuing their cautious approach–learning from their earlier troubles–they move through the door seperating the kitchen from the hallway stairs and the dining room–which they find empty. They spot the corpse of a goblin in the middle of the dining area with a crossbow bolt sticking out of it, hidden from the windows by tables and chairs and rubble. Teir investigates while the others hang back on the stairs, and he discovers that the goblin did not die of suffocation (failed Medicine roll). Unknown to the players (at this time), a female human hides in the shadows beyond the hole in the ceiling above them.

The adventurers enter into a dark hallway, with four closed doors. They decide to make a careful investigation of the rooms, hoping to find something worth their while, even if it’s just a place to rest more comfortably than the temple. The first room they enter belongs to the innkeeper, and was mostly destroyed by a boulder taking out that corner of the inn, and landing in the kitchen below. A nice tapestry of a mountain landscape hangs on the walls (which Teir dutifully checks behind for hidden compartments), and a large locked chest sits under the single window. Teir sends his raven to sit on the chest (to check for traps, he says), but nothing happens. Noticing the lock, they all look at Zastu, who seems confused. “Why are you looking at me?” She asks. “Don’t you know how to pick locks?” Teir asks. “What did I hire you for?” (+inspiration for RP) “Oh right,” she says, and gets to work on the lock. She’s more rusty than she realized, and it takes a second attempt to crack it. (Unknown to her at this time, is that her lockpicks have been damaged by the failed attempt.) Inside they find chainmail and a helm obviously sized for a dwarf, a couple nice gemstones, 45gp, and a Potion of Heroism. Recognizing the potion, Teir immediately starts negotiating for it, giving up his share of the gold and agreeing to open the next door. Bakunawa and Zastu each pocket a gemstone (as part of their ‘wage’), each worth quite a bit. They check out the wardrobe, but find nothing but well-made dwarf-sized clothes. They leave the chainmail and helm behind, and remind Teir it’s his turn to open a door. Across the hall, the second of the inn’s rooms is empty of anything interesting–two beds, clearly unused since they were last made, an empty wardrobe, a desk and chair under the window, and lanterns on both the desk and the little table between the beds. A bearskin rug lays in the middle of the room, pulling everything together, and the adventurers eye it uneasily. They prod Bakunawa to lift it up and look underneath, but all they find is dust.

Onward to the third room–next door to the second. This is the room through which a boulder punched a hole, right down to the first floor. All that remains is a desk and a chair, and a blonde human female in monk’s clothes. There is a tense moment–as the woman was obviously hiding, from the goblins at least–before she relaxes, “Thank the gods, you’re not goblins!” She recognizes the emblem of the Order of the Burning Dawn (a rising sun with rays outlined in a flaming triangle) on Bakunawa’s armor, and says how happy she is to see a goodly mercenary in town (the group misses the masked sarcasm in her voice). Meanwhile, unnoticed by the rest of the group, is how relieved Rysiel appears when he finally sees a human (since his companions are the only ones he’s encountered thus far, and they all have horns and a 'demonic’ appearance.) They chat briefly, with Teir taking the lead. The woman’s name is Kella (the others introduce themselves), and she was staying at the inn when boulders started to rain from the sky. She didn’t see from where, only just managing to get to the window to look, when one crashed through the roof and knocked her unconscious. She woke up as goblins entered the village and started moving about. She took out one with her crossbow, through the hole in the floor, but was afraid to leave her room, especially when she heard rummaging downstairs (the goblin in the kitchen). She presses them to confirm whether or not the inn, and then the town, is free of goblins. They admit that they haven’t explored the rest of the town, but the inn itself is clear, and yes, they were the ones that stopped the damned bell from ringing. Kella sighs with relief as she fiddles with her sleeve. Teir notices the small movement, and something else… He insists on seeing what’s there, which makes Kella uneasy. Why should I show you my arms? She sighs, and pulls back her sleeve slightly, revealing the head and neck of a brightly coloured snake coiled there. Zastu wants to know why she’s travelling with a snake, but Rysiel thinks it’s legit, and Teir, being interested in such exotic creatures, becomes excited and starts asking prying questions about it. Kella is obviously uncomfortable, and reveals that it was a gift from a man interested in her, but she doesn’t return his feelings, though she likes the snake.

Eventually, they check out the fourth–and final–room, finding it identical to the second one, and just as empty. Kella thanks the adventurers for taking care of the goblins thus far, and says she’s looking forward to 'getting some actual rest’ in one of the empty rooms. They decide to check the stable next, which they can just see from Kella’s window.

Once outside, Rysiel expresses his excitement about the horses (+inspiration for RP), and Zastu groans about all the mud (+inspiration for RP). The stable is a two-storey building which is open from chest-height up to the roof at its main entrance, with a pair of unlocked gate-style doors granting access at the eastern end. Before entering, they see nine horses in stalls, and–as they get closer–a boulder right in the aisle between them, having narrowly missed the nervous animals during its fall and leaving the stalls intact. A smaller service door leads inside from the south, on the far side of the stalls. A loft filled with hay serves as a second storey, covering half of the stable, with two ladders providing easy access. The adventurers discuss briefly what they want to do about the horses (Rysiel wants to let them loose to graze), standing in the open gateway. They miss the telltale rustling from the loft as a goblin (Derp 'the stealthy’) lines up a shot with his shortbow. They get a second chance to avoid a surprise round as the goblin shuffles a second time as he looses an arrow at Rysiel, which misses. The half-elf rushes inside, hiding under the hayloft. He considers his Produce Flame spell, but doesn’t want to burn down the stable house. Teir retaliates with a forceful Eldritch blast, but the goblin is hidden in the hay (¾ cover, +5ac), and the energy goes wide–sending hay flying everywhere. Bakunawa charges for the ladder and climbs to the top. Zastu’s keen eyes pick out the hidden goblin (using inspiration to negate the disadvantage), negating some of his cover (down to ½ cover, +2ac), and she manages to shoot him with an arrow, visibly injuring him. Still in the hay, the goblin fires his own arrow, hitting Bakunawa, who is now halfway between the ladder and the goblin. Rysiel, not having a non-fire ranged attack, picks up a stone from the rubble and tries to hit the goblin, but misses. Teir tries to hit the partially covered goblin with another Eldritch blast, but he just sends more hay into the air. Fortunately, Bakunawa is able to close the distance between to the goblin, and spills his guts neatly cuts him in half. Their reward for killing this poor goblin are a single copper piece and a wooden box engraved with the Lionshield crest (a blue shield with a stylized golden lion) containing 10 silvered darts. Noting Rysiel’s lack of ranged attack, Bakunawa gives him the box (ignoring the dead goblin’s shortbow, because druids are only proficient in slings and darts…) In return (and because they’re hurt), Rysiel gives Bakunawa 6 of the 8 remaining Goodberries–reserving one for himself, and giving one to Zastu. Being somewhat familiar with horses, Rysiel, Teir, and Bakunawa take care of them–giving them food and water and a brief brushdown. When they finish, Rysiel lets out a black riding horse, equips it with a bit and bridle, and leading it along behind them. (+inspiration for RP, if they had used any…..)

Our adventurers continue their search of the town, passing by and invesigating several empty and/or ruined houses. To the north of the stables is the chicken and pig pens where they fought a pair of goblins earlier (the body of one still laying in a corner). The house is ruined by a falling boulder, and they miss the crushed body of Semile Southwell in the rubble. Beyond that, a pair of escaped pigs graze at the base of one of the town’s seven watchtowers (they do not go in). They turn south, and follow the path past the stable again, and another watchtower (they do not go in). To their right (west) is a house attached to a large garden, and another house to the left (east). Teir sends his raven to check the immediate area, revealing said garden nestled between the house and the trading post, and another house to the south of the one on their left, but no goblins. The house on their right has been ransacked by the goblins, and they find the corpse of a human man under a rock in the middle of the field. The house on the left was hit by another falling boulder, leaving it half intact. It was inhabited by halflings, judging from the remaining furniture and belongings. Outside is a nice herb and flower garden, and–following a hunch–Zastu takes a second look around, finding a loose floorboard with a herbalism kit, some antitoxin, and 15gp. Sadly, they also find the body of a male halfling in the rubble. The next house in line appears to be the same as the others–until they get closer. This one hasn’t been destroyed by a boulder, and locked shutters cover the windows. The (locked) door is covered in ornate ruins, which Teir recognizes as infernal, a demonic script which he understands. He translates the runes as follows: “Let all who enter this home without the consent of its owner burn for ninety-nine years in the depths of Nessus and freeze for a thousand more in the icy wastes of Cania.” They decide not to chance any curses, and continue on. The path curves to the right (west) past another house with a field behind it. Another watchtower lies directly south of that. As the adventurers check out the inside of the house (ransacked and in shambles, but not destroyed by a boulder), Teir sends his raven to scout again. Two goblins with pumpkins on their heads dance and chase each other in the pumpkin field, bumping into each other and laughing.

Seeing a grand opportunity for easy homicide, the adventurers initiate combat, starting with a surprise round (since the goblins are effectively blind) Teir takes the lead, mumbling infernal curses and sending a crackling Eldritch Blast at the forefront goblin (Flik), blasting it off its feet and killing it instantly. Apparently a target has to be blind for Teir to hit it XD Rysiel takes out one of his new Silvered Darts and hurls it at the second goblin (Blik), dealing a fair amount of damage with the weighted missile. (advantage) Zastu follows that attack with an expert shot from her bow, killing the goblin. (advantage + sneak attack damage) The adventurers cheer at the easy victory, but the noise attracts two more goblins (Larv and Snokk) from the nearby watchtower. Bakunawa uses his turn to rush them, and attacks with his longsword, taking a chunk out of the first one he could reach (Larv). Teir dahes to the side so he can get a clear shot with his Eldritch Blast, and hits the other goblin (Snokk) with sheer magical force. Rysiel glides in with scimitar in hand, but misses his attack (on Larv). Zastu drops her bow and approaches with a shortsword and dagger in hand (she gets sneak damage if an ally is beside her and the target), but misses with both. Seeing himself suddenly surrounded, one of the goblins (Snokk) tries to run away, but is careless and forgets to use disengage. He is brutally murdered run-through by Bakunawa’s sword as an opportunity attack, and dies. Bakunawa then uses his turn to slice the last goblin, which also dies. Their loot from these two consists of some worthless utensils, three perfume vials, a stuffed blood hawk, and a copper flagon emblazoned with the grinning visage of a halfling, while the ones in the field left two sacks with some coins, a smoking pipe, a stuffed teddy bear, a tinderbox and a boxed set of three dragon ante cards. They divy up the coins, and Rysiel takes the pipe, Teir the cards, and Bakunawa the tinderbox.

Afterward, the finally enter one of the watch towers. Inside are a couple benches and stools where gaurds would (presumably) play cards, and a ladder leading to the roof. From the roof the adventurers get a proper view of the village for the first time. Boulders are strewn all across it, and have destroyed several houses, as they already knew. They see over the wall to the south and east–on the other side of the river to the east lies forest, and to the south is a large hill/mound, atop which the keep sits, surrounded by its own walls–so that all they can see is the roof. The bridge leading from the village proper is at an angle because of this, and right in the middle is a gaping hole, where a boulder fell, cutting off easy access. Another boulder-wrecked house lies directly west of them, south of the pumpkin field, and just before the road to the bridge. Beyond that is a windmill atop a hill, and a watchtower which has been wrecked by more falling boulders.

The adventurers decide to take a moment to consider their next steps, and the session ends here!

Spells cast:

Teir: Eldritch Blast x5

Killcount:

6 goblins - Gum Gum, Derp, Blik and Flik, Larv and Snokk Bakunawa: 4 Teir: 1 Zastu: 1 Rysiel: 0

Treasure looted:

60gp 3sp 5cp

2 gemstones

potion of heroism

several muffins, a block of cheese, a cooked chicken

a frying pan, an iron pot, a set of cook’s utensils

a bullseye lantern, two flasks of oil

a jar of cloves, a jar of saffron

a dented silver jug

a wooden box engraved with the Lionshield crest (a blue shield with a stylized golden lion) containing 10 silvered darts

herbalism kit

some antitoxin

three perfume vials

a smoking pipe, a tinderbox

a boxed set of three dragon ante cards

Left behind:

the goblins’ shortbows, arrows, and shortswords

misc worthless stuff (like a stuffed hawk)

[washue]

Let me tell you a story about my dog.

This is Little Dipper (Dipper for short). I don’t know where he is, and I miss him every day.

So please if you live in New Jersey and have any leads. Call Bonnie. I-80 EB, Columbia, NJ - Knowlton Tourist Welcome Center - MM7 FEARFUL OF HUMANS! DO NOT CHASE! Take a picture, note date, time, location. Bonnie: Pet Detective - 732-735-8345!

My Story

I adopted him from a little rescue in Pennsylvania. I live in Indiana. My original plan was to pay the adoption fee and let my friend (Melody) take care of him until I could get vacation time from work and travel to take him home. The rescue allowed it. However her parents didn’t want a second dog in the house for some reason, so I cancelled the adoption. Then Melody said I should look into pet transferring services and have them drive my dog to me. So I did and I found TLC Pet Transfer. I figured they were a safe company and the services seemed really nice. So, I went ahead and paid for the service. Everything was set. Melody was going to pick up Dipper and hold him until the pickup date. But, when she informed the rescue of the plan, they called me immediately and said that I could not transfer my dog. That I needed to meet him first before they could release him to me.

I don’t know why they allowed for my friend to pick him up and hold him for me, but this wasn’t ok. But, whatever.

So, I’m really stressed out at this point and I stay home from work to figure this out. I call the transport service to see if there was anything they could do. They agreed to call the rescue and let them know about their business. Just in case the rescue was skeptical. But that didn’t work. TLC said that they couldn’t give me a refund (it was $632) but they could reschedule for a different day. So that gave me time to plan for a flight out to Pennsylvania to meet Dipper in person.

I contacted the rescue and asked if I could see him next month. But they said that date was to far out. I had to be there within 10 days. That eliminated flying. And since my car was so old, driving was out too. (Plus I wasn’t very comfortable with driving 10+ hours by myself). So the cheapest option was to take the bus. The same day I was told 10 days, I bought bus tickets for that weekend. MLK weekend. So luckily I had the following Monday off.

I got on the bus at 6am for a 16 hour bus ride to Philadelphia. I didn’t sleep the night before because I figured I would be able to sleep on the bus. I was wrong. The seat I sat in was broken. It rocked back and forth with every break and acceleration. The bus was full. There wasn’t anywhere else to sit. So I had to endure that for a few hours. On the first stop, I made sure not to sit in it again when I got back on. The bus driver noticed it and roped it off.

When I got to Pittsburgh, I left my luggage on the bus when I transferred. The bus driver said if we were continuing on to Philadelphia, you can leave your luggage on board. However, I was transferring to the express bus to Philadelphia. I didn’t realize they would be different. I never had much luck with Greyhound.

I didn’t have time to go back and get it. My next bus was boarding and I had to be on it. Unfortunately, it had all of my clothes in it. As, I got on the bus, my eyes were tearing up. I really didn’t want any mishaps on this trip. I tried to focus and started looking up phone numbers for Greyhound customer service. After an hour and a few calls later, they located it. It was headed to Philadelphia, but that means I would be waiting for 2 hours after my arrival.

Fast forward to Sunday morning. My friends and I car pool to the rescue to pick up this adorable little pup. He was shy at first, but he warmed up to Melody and me. A few accidents, a little wandering, and plenty of playfulness. I loved him unconditionally.

Monday night I had to say goodbye. His new scheduled pick up from TLC was on Wednesday, so it wasn’t goodbye forever. Tuesday afternoon, my bus was late, I wasn’t going to make it to work, and I had caught a nasty cold. But it didn’t matter because I was getting a dog in a couple days.

Melody made sure to send me snapchats of Dipper everyday. She gave me updates on his behavior and let me know tips on this and that. But as the pickup day arrived, she had some major complaints about the driver, Jocelyn. She says that Jocelyn didn’t know the name of the dog; she didn’t check his medical records; she dropped him; she didn’t pick up the carrier in a steady way; and she put him in the truck before Melody could say goodbye. I wasn’t happy with any of that. So Melody and I collaborated on an email to the owner of the company with our complaints.

It takes about 24 hours for the pet transfer. So, you can imagine my concern when he wasn’t delivered on Thursday. Jocelyn told my mom that she was being held up by another client who wasn’t there to accept their dog. However, I was worried. TLC said we only needed to give him food for no more than 2 days. I was wondering what he would eat after his food ran out. And at this time, I still didn’t get a reply to the email.

Friday afternoon. My mom texts me while I’m at work. It was long and I didn’t really understand it, so I took a break to call her. We ended up having a 3-way call with my dad. He said he got a call from someone in New Jersey reporting that Dipper was missing. My heart sank. My parents said they couldn’t get a hold of the main office. So I tried calling. I got an answer fairly quickly and the owner of the company, Gale, confirmed that Dipper got away from Jocelyn.

He ran off into a wooded area at a New Jersey rest stop. There were rescue teams called in and live traps were set up. I was hoping that they would catch him soon. Meanwhile I decided to talk to Jocelyn and get to the bottom of what happened. She says that after his walk, she picked him up to put him back in the carrier but he wiggled out of his harness. I asked if he still had a collar on and she said he never had one whe she got him. But I know that wasn’t true. When I was with him, I always put his harness over his collar. Melody also confirmed that he had his collar on before he left. I know she double checked everything. So that made me a bit skeptical. Jocelyn proceeded to complain about how “everyone is blaming her”. She mentioned the email we sent to her boss, several times. She said Melody was exaggerating. Makes me wonder why I never got a response. She rambled off her life story about how she’s been good with animals since she was a kid and how she would take home strays. I had to cut her off. She wasn’t helping the situation.

She reassured me that there were very experienced people currently looking for him, and that they would send out a k9 tracking hound as a last resort. I felt a little better, but still worried.

A little bit later, I asked when they planned to send out the K9 track. She says there wasn’t one and that I misunderstood her.

Since I was sick and my throat was killing me, I allowed Melody’s parents to handle communication. They lived closer to New Jersey and it was best to have one line of communication to lessen confusion.

Over the weekend, they sent out the K9 track. Apparently I heard her correctly the first time. Dipper wasn’t in the wooded area anymore. He crossed the highway and traveled 3 miles further. Jocelyn sat at the rest stop for 3 days, and he wasn’t even there.

He’s still out there. I hope he’s eating. I hope he has water. I hope he’s alive…

I was with him for less than 2 days. I didn’t get to start our life together. I feel like crying when I think of him. Most times I do.

TLC gave me a full refund of the service cost. No call. No email. No note attached to the payment. They just moved on as if it wasn’t their problem anymore.

People say that I should press charges. I really want to. But I’m not sure if I can juggle court dates with work. I’m sure I’ll figure out something. I just want my dog back. But I would like TLC Pet Transfer to answer these questions.

-Why did Dipper run away from Jocelyn? -What time did he run away? -Did she chase after him? -Why did she lie about what day he ran off? -Why did she lie about the K9 track? -Where is his collar? -Did Jocelyn ever take of his harness like we requested? -Why didn’t they reply to my email? -Why didn’t they inform me before they moved on and gave me a refund? -Did the email influence Jocelyn in any way? -Did she lie about anything else?

So please if you live in New Jersey and have any leads. Call Bonnie. I-80 EB, Columbia, NJ - Knowlton Tourist Welcome Center - MM7 FEARFUL OF HUMANS! DO NOT CHASE! Take a picture, note date, time, location. Bonnie: Pet Detective - 732-735-8345!

[preezypop]

It took me a while to put words on what I feel. I formerly planned to write something when the disbandment news came out. But I backed out because I didn’t want to open my scars. That news hurt me in thousands ways for obvious reason, but the irony was that I discovered about it on the bus on my way to the airport because...I was about to fly to Japan to see Big Bang...Whatever. I must have looked pretty silly to the other passengers but a girl crying while going to the airport is not that strange after all. Anyway. How do I start? Where do I start? Well it should be easy. Because it all started with them. Those 4 amazing and fierce girls. One random summer night 6 years ago, I was chatting with my cousin on the internet (for the older ones, it was on MSN, feel old yet?) and back in that time I knew literally nothing about South Korea. Nothing. I was a J-Pop/J-rock enthusiast. She told me she wanted me to check out a music video. “It’s not Japanese though, it’s Korean, but I’m sure you will like it, it’s totally your style! And it sounds a lot like English when you’re not paying attention.” Ok, shoot. I must admit I was a bit jaded because Korea? But okay, I told her to send me the link and I gave it a try. “I go by the name of CL of 2NE1”, oh okay wow. Totally not what I expected! I mean I was kinda into J-Pop so I lowkey expected cute schoolgirls and stuff but no. Not at all. I had the Street ver. of the Fire MV playing in front of my eyes and W-O-W. Snatched. Blown away. Shookt. You name it. I was hooked. The clothes, the attitude, the choreo, THE SONG. (I mean c’mon, I’m a West-Indian and those girls just delivered a dance-hall-ish song!) Oh-my-God!!!!! I replayed it immediately! I couldn’t believe what I just saw! I let my cousin know how AMAZED I was and she was like “ikr?!!!! I knew you would like it”. Liked it? Little did my cousin and I knew but she has just launched the biggest change in my life. This night I listened to Fire for hours!!! I felt like there was a whole new world I had to discover. The J-Pop and J-Rock worlds were full of codes so I was sure K-Pop had its own too. And judging by the comments under the video there were A LOT. I was confused about everyone making a fuss over that weird guy dancing behind Minzy for like 2 seconds (little did I know that later I’d sell my soul to that weird dude and turn him into my husband ultimate bias). So there I went, because I wanted to know more about 2NE1, who were they? What were their names? Where did they come from? Why are they called the female Big Bang? Who even is Big Bang (LOL)? Who is papa YG? What? I downloaded the mini-album (why mini? why were the Korean codes so different from what I’ve known up until now?) and lost my hair for the 2nd time because of them. Perfect. That album was perfect. A bit of pop, a bit of r’n’b, everything I like!!!!! Those girls were winning my heart at a fast rate! And soon enough I was a 2NE1 fan, a Blackjack, a future YG stan and a full kpop fan in the making. The rest is history. If someone asks what is 2NE1 to me I will ask them if they know about the concept of the butterfly effect. How a small event can lead by some domino reaction to HUGE consequences. Because this is exactly what 2NE1 is to me. Because of them my life made a 180. And the person that I am today, the things that I do, the music I listen to, the food I enjoy, the people who are my friends, the countries that I visit, everything is because of them. Being a kpop fan has changed me and allowed me to do amazing things that I would never have allowed myself to imagine. I met people who lifted me up and allowed me to be a new me, a better me if I may say. And I would not be a kpop fan if I had not discovered 2NE1. They are and will stay my #1 girlsband. Each of them shows me that you gotta do what you gotta do. People will always say something, people will always judge. At the end of the day, what matters is that you feel good with what you decided for yourself. And often, too often, the ones who badmouth you the most are the ones who wish they’d be like you. So just go and chase your dreams. Make mistakes, learn, take some time for yourself and go at it again. One of the thing I’ll be the most bitter (and sad) about is that I will never know what it feels like to attend a 2NE1 concert. It hurts but that’s just how it is. I used the word irony twice already I think, but really that’s just the adjective which would describe a lot of my situations with 2NE1. And I have 2 big examples: They came to France once (in 2012 or 2011), for an annual event about media. They were invited and a French Kpop magazine posted 2 days ago that they would do a fanmeeting for those who can attend. It was sudden, they announced this 2 days before the d-day. It was in the middle of the week, at the opposite side of the country, bad mix. But impossible is nothing. I booked a train ticket and jumped into a night train and travel alone for 8h to a city I’ve never been too. But my girls were there, so I had to be too. I remembered arriving around 9am or something and I waited into a McDonald’s. I was seeing people with their badge for the festival and was envying them so bad. It had nothing to do with kpop itself. It was about media and communication. So most of the people were 30 years old tech guys. It was so unfair. Why would they’d be able to see the girls and not me? Do 2NE1 mean the world to them like they do to me? Did 2NE1 changed their life for the better? I don’t think so. I should get an access badge, not them. Whatever. Around 10am or so I called my part-time job to tell them I misread my schedule and that I actually had a big test that day so I couldn’t come and that I was sooooo sorry. I’m usually a trustable person, so they trusted me and told me it was okay. I felt a little bad for lying when they told me “good luck for your exam” when really I was just at the opposite side of the country to try see 4 girls who had succeeded to have one of the biggest impact on my life. Anyway, the day went by and my heart was beating so fast inside. I tried going around the city, hoping that maybe I would run into them but it never happened (but I discovered later that they did a photoshoot in the streets so :’) ) Time went by and I came outside the venue, saw a few fans and the fan meeting organizer. It was not that bad and I had a little fun. At some point we (the fans) were given bracelets, “you will be attending their showcase”. I thought I was about to die. I was thinking about seeing them, waving at them but seeing an actual showcase?!!!! I tried to calm down but really my mind was in a frenzy. At some point, people started running and screaming. They arrived at the venue. A few girls were crying. I wasn’t fast enough so I didn’t see anyone. 1st disappointment of the day but it was okay, I got the bracelet for the showcase anyway so really it was okay. But now that I was sure that they were inside the venue I couldn’t believe that 2NE1 and I were breathing the same air and that we just had a few walls separating us. How I wanted to run, kicked the guard and go inside the venue. But I had the bracelet for the showcase, it was okay. With the other fans, we waited and sang and danced to 2NE1 songs while waiting. But the official time of the showcase start was getting closer and yet no one was making us go in. Finally one of the “organizer” came to us and dropped the bomb “Sorry, there are too many of you, the security thinks it will be too complicated to handle you so you can’t go attend the showcase anymore”. Honestly I can’t remember how I felt at this moment, but it was like everything was slowing down brutally. I wasn’t expecting the showcase in the 1st place but I was given a fucking bracelet, I got my hopes up for nothing. Not even a compensation. People were screaming and crying, it was chaos. I just wanted to disappear. I hate broken promises. Don’t hype me up. If you’re not sure about something just shut up and wait for when you’re sure. That was the 2nd disappointment of the day. Finally when the showcase ended, we were told that the girls got the news about us being there all day and getting the entry denied so they would improvise some kind of fan event for us. I didn’t want to expect too much but who was I kidding just knowing that the girls were so thoughtful was making me want to cry out of happiness. Ofc they would. We were asked to gather in front of a building and wait for the girls so they would come and wave at us. We were asked to sing, dance and cheer for them. And we did. Cameras were filming us, random by-passers were asking us who we were praising like this. Everytime a representant would come and say that “they’re on their way, just 5 more minutes”. This lasted for like 1h if I remember correctly. “Sing louder, clap your hands, do this, do that”. We did everything wholeheartedly. Only for the same fucking representant to come and tell us after 1h that they wouldn’t come. No explanation. We were asked to leave the area. This was the 3rd disappointment and the last stroke. I was tired and disappointed. And for the 1st time I was mad at the girls. I didn’t know who were responsible but I was mad at the girls because as a fan, a very dedicated fan I felt like my love was looked down upon. I felt disrespected and unloved. And I swear this was the worst feeling ever. Finally we were said that their car would go down the road and that they would wave to us. Not expecting much for the 4th time, I still ran to the barrier and saw the car approaching but it didn’t seem like it was slowing down. But in like 0.02 seconds, the Double Park sisters iconic duo aka Dara & Bom appeared through the car rooftop and smiled and waved at us. It was quick but I screamed as loud as I could. I was thankful, so so so so so so so thankful for the gesture! Thank you my dear unnies for at least acknowledging us peasant i-fans. The car did a u-turn, and I was hoping to see CL (my ult female bias) and Minzy but they didn’t show up. This disappointed me to no end. If 2 out of the 4 did it why not the other 2? Weren’t we good enough for them? Don’t they care about us? Did they realize all the things, all of the sacrifices that some of us did just with the hope to take a glance at them? Later that day I took a train back to my city (yay 8h new hours of night train ride) with confused feelings. But mostly it was pain and disappointment. I was mad at CL the most but I was also mad at myself for being mad at CL. I ranted so much on Twitter! Ah, just thinking about it...I now realized how much I remember from that day and it feels so weird! But well, time heals everything and I calmed down about it. End of the 1st example. 2nd example, it will be shorter loool. Time skip, we’re in 2015 now. 2NE1 is missing from the radar because of the Park Bom situation. And I’m starting to register that I won’t be able to see my OT4 before a while. Anyway, now I’m mainly focusing on Big Bang and EXO. And here come my chance to see both bands at the same event: MAMA 2015. Fun fact, I bought my ticket for MAMA based on my guess because none of BB or EXO had confirmed their attendance. But I had that feeling. 2015 was the MADE era launching, it was impossible for BB to not attend MAMA, I mean they own it!! And SM would never not send EXO to MAMA like please. So I did it, at 4AM, I bought a ticket for the MAMA and went back to sleep like nothing happened because I was in denial. Anyway, that’s not the main point. Later I got the news that CL was attending too so really it was perfect. D-day, here I am enjoying the MAMA 2015 in Hong-Kong, CL just KILLED it with her Hello Bitches! perf and she disappeared. And at this moment for like 0.00002 second I thought “what if?” but before I calm my delulu ass down, Dara unnie appeared...then Minzy...and then...yes, our beloved Bom unnie! Even her was there! Right at this moment I had the very 1st kpop band I knew, loved and stanned, performing the very 1st kpop song I heard. And I lost it, I started crying like a heartbroken girl. It was like all of the frustration, all the longing, all the love, all the resentment, everything was coming crashing down on me. The poor girl who was sitting next to me was so confused, she was looking at me frequently and I know she was hesitating about helping me or not because really I was a mess. You know when you ugly cry and it’s so hard that you have to hold your stomach? Yeah, just like this. The 1st part of Fire was like in a blur but I couldn’t miss this, so I did my best to calm down and enjoyed the show. I don’t know which ancestor I should thank for this amazing gift but being able to see 2NE1 perform at 4...my very first OT4… this was one of the best surprise ever. The highlight of the night. My best HK memory. But it hurts too because there is something very bittersweet in the fact the 1st time I had the chance to see 2NE1 perform was also the last time they would perform as 2NE1 the OT4 at all… And to finish, the little bonus. In March 2016 I went for the 1st time in Korea (to attend EXO’s concert but then again, that’s details here). Only a few hours after I landed, I “ran” to the YG building. This was the 1st place I wanted to go, and that’s what I did. When I arrived in front of the building there like 2 girls only and that’s it. After maybe 10 minutes, a taxi arrived and came to pick someone up. That someone was the one and only Goddess Park Bom unnie. We got closer to the gate and started waving at the taxi and to our surprise, the taxi stopped in front of us and the back window rolled down. Bommie unnie asked the driver to stop to greet us. We didn’t ask for it, and didn’t even try to block the gate or anything, it was her decision. She wanted to greet us, she accepted the gift of one of the girls. I managed to tell her that I wanted her to come back. It only lasted a few seconds but it was intense enough. She might never know the impact of that. But I will never forget this. This really meant a lot. She was the one who asked the driver to stop the car. She saw us and and wanted to greet us. Not many idols would do that (I’m not blaming them), but that’s important, so so important. Unnie, thank you so much. I wish I could protect you from everything, you deserve the world and so much more. What happened to you is so unfair. But it’s about time. You can still make your dream come true not matter how long it takes you. You’re talented. You can achieve anything. Believe in yourself and most of all don’t blame yourself. Minzy, our talented, sweet maknae and dance machine. You hurt me. But I respect your decision. I will still have resentment because that’s just how I am. But I honestly respect and understand your decision. I wish you the best as well. You were the youngest and you’re the one with the most time ahead of her. I wish you success and I hope to hear your new music soon. Dara unnie, our adorable Ssantokki queen. You’ve been through so much already, before 2NE1, during 2NE1 and probably after. I really wish you’d stop thinking you’re untalented because that’s not true. No matter what we do, we will always find people better at doing something than us. What is important is to improve and compare ourselves to ourselves. Tomorrow you will be even better than today. That’s all that counts. Look at you doing great in dramas and TV shows! Thank you for being 2NE1’s most supportive fan and the only real 2NE1 manager haha! CL, my queen, our leader. I hope none of the bullshit people throw at you every single day will reach you. It disgusts me how jealousy can make people ugly. People are mad at you for showing a confident image, fuck’em all. Most of them are just insecure people who wish they were at least 50% of what you are. Since when being confident makes you a bad person? Foh. What’s worst is that that deep down we know that you’re not that confident. You’re strong, so strong though. Thank you for leading 2NE1 with such greatness. No matter what you choose to do, be sure it’s something you enjoy. Screw what people say. Enjoy yourself! 2NE1, thank you. Those words seem so simple but they mean A LOT. A lot. I just don’t know how to sum up those last 6-7 years. You turned my life upside down for the better and the woman that I am today will forever be grateful for that. If I had to do it again, I would like to start this journey with you again. I wouldn’t change anything. I was, I am and I will always be a Blackjack. I will love you forever. Goodbye queens ♥ (It hurts so much)

[tebbyclinic11]

Firstchop Meal Plan Review: My First Sous Vide Exp...

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Firstchop Meal Plan Review: My First Sous Vide Exp...

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Cooking meat can be tricky business. There are so many diseases that can be spread when you undercook. Overcooking, on the other hand, means you have to sacrifice on taste, but, at least you don’t get sick, right?

Great food is one of the true pleasures of life, and you shouldn’t have to overpay for quality meat cooked right. That’s what makes sous vide such an innovative way of cooking. If you’re not familiar with it, we’ve written a detailed sous vide guide that will help you understand just how it works.

As a mom, I’m all about saving time and making dinner as simple as possible. If you’re thinking of incorporating sous vide into your culinary repertoire, keep reading to see how my first experience went with Firstchop Meal Kit.

About Firstchop

So, just who is Firstchop and what do they do to make your life healthier and more convenient? Founded by CEO Ajay Narain and Executive Chef Marc Rasic in 2016, it’s been the goal of the company to share the secret of making the hardest part of dinner the easiest.

While microwaves have made it easier to take food from a frozen to hot state, they also tend to leave meats very dry and tough. Using the sous vide method, it’s Firstchop’s goal to offer everyone the ability to achieve flavorful, juicy meats quickly and just right every time.

Ajay first discovered sous vide when he cooked too much for a party. When he was able to effectively reheat the leftovers for another party using the sous vide method, he quickly saw the many situations in which it can save both time and money.

It’s Like Having Your Own Personal Chef!

If you’re like me, the thought of having a personal chef is pretty laughable. When you consider hiring someone with qualifications, it’s just not in the budget. However, that’s exactly what you’re getting when you order from Firstchop as your food was prepared by a chef who:

Cooked for the royal family of Luxembourg

Ran kitchens for Google

Launched multiple restaurants and cooking products

Marc Rasic also has a family to cook for just like many of us, so he understands the importance of convenience.

When you use this service, you’re getting meats that are delicately seasoned, seared, and cooked. They’re then frozen and shipped to you quickly and efficiently. My food was very well insulated and still frozen at my doorstep. All you have to do is reheat using the sous vide wand. Your dinner tastes freshly made every time

Firstchop Meat Sourcing

All meat used by the Firstchop meal kit is conventional. While we hear a lot about grass fed and organic meat, the reality is that the vast majority of consumers actually don’t have a preference.  

Firstchop wanted to ensure they were giving their customers what they truly wanted, so they conducted a survey and found that:

80% of consumers would opt for grass fed/organic meats,  but only if it cost the same as conventional.  

Unfortunately, the cost to consumers would be a minimum of 50% higher. Considering the majority of the market would be unwilling to cough up the extra money for organic, it makes good business sense to use conventional meats. All meats are USDA-approved.

Ordering & Unboxing

Ordering is very simple. Keep in mind when you order that they do ship on Tuesdays. Orders placed after Monday at 5 p.m. will be shipped the following Tuesday. You should expect your order to show up that Thursday or Friday depending on your location.

Bulky Packaging

When your order shows up, you’ll notice the box seems pretty bulky for what’s inside. Keep in mind that the Firstchop meal kit has to ensure safe, cold transportation. They put a lot of effort into designing the most compact box possible to get the job done. You can recycle the box, but the mylar liner and plastic pouches that cover the meats are not. You’ll need to throw those in the trash.

I would like to see more effort going into making the packaging more compact. There was quite a bit of trash. However, my food did arrive fresh and frozen. You’ll want to get your food in the freezer or refrigerator immediately. When your starter box arrives, you’ll receive:

Firstchop sous vide wand

Four proteins with the choices of

Beef chuck short rib

Petite medallions

Tuscan pork shoulder

Osso buco lamb

Sriracha chicken breast

Peruvian style chicken breast

Pork loin with black garlic

Spicy hot green curry chicken breast

  Your initial order will consist of two boxes. The larger box contains your meats while the smaller houses your sous vide wand. Once you have the wand, you can then opt for Firstchop’s 4-Pack or 8-Pack options.

I like that Firstchop allows for you to order their products as gifts. We all eat, right? What better gift than one of a delicious, convenient meal delivered at your doorstep? If you want to order Firstchop as a gift with a different shipping address, email support. They will even put in a card with anything you want written on it.

Corporate orders receive a custom quote. Just send an email to info@firstchop.com with the details of your request.

The Sous Vide Wand: How It Works

The Sous Vide Wand really was simple to use. I love how the system is set up to where you never have to touch raw food. Aside from the yuck factor, this can also cut down on the spread of disease.

If you’re familiar with Anova, this looks similar. The main difference is that Firstchop’s wand isn’t WiFi-compatible, so you can’t use your smartphone to control it. On the other hand, the Firstchop wand is about half the price. For me, this is preferable.

Step-by-Step Setup

Clamp the adjustable ring clip onto your sous vide bath. Bath size is not to exceed 15 L and must allow at least 4.25 inches of water.

Fill your bath container to a level that won’t exceed the MAX fill line on the wand.

Slip the wand vertically into the handle on the clamp. It will fit securely. Make sure water doesn’t pass the MAX line or exceed the MIN line.

The top of the wand has three buttons:

Temperature- allows you to set the desired temperature

Time- allows you to set a timer

Play/Pause- allows you to select and initiate settings

To set temperature:

Push the Temperature button

Turn the knob on the side of the wand until you reach desired temperature

Push Play/Pause button to initiate this temperature setting

To set timer

Push the Timer button

Turn the knob on the side of the wand until you reach desired time

Push Play/Pause button to initiate timer

It’s super simple. In our experience, it took about the same amount of time to heat up the water as it did to cool down. Cool down happens naturally and is not achieved through the use of the sous vide wand.

Remember that you can’t overcook. This means you don’t have to wait for the target temperature to be met before dropping in your meat.

To make heating as quick as possible, use the hottest tap water you have when you initially fill your sous vide bath. When your wand is activated, you’ll hear the soft whir of the machine churning the water as it heats up. You’ll notice a small fan at the tip of the wand. This spins when the wand is on to circulate the water and change the temperature.

Again, since you can’t overcook using the sous vide cooking method, you can drop your meat in the bath before the target temperature is met.

What’s That Sound?

If you’re worried about the noise, I thought it was actually quite pleasant. When the wand is functioning properly, it sounds like a light babbling brook. A whistling sound is also normal. The following sounds, on the other hand, are indicators of problems:

Grinding

Pump housing may be loose- see manual to correct

Hissing or Beeping

Bubbling or swishing

The best part is that, as long as your temperature is set correctly, you can’t overcook your meat. This is something I sometimes struggle with, so this is an excellent feature. Just try not to leave your meats in the bath longer than two hours.

The sous vide wand will fluctuate within a half a degree higher and lower than the set temperature, so it cooks very steady. Don’t attempt to reheat your Firstchop foods without using the wand. You will ruin your meat because the wand works to heat the proteins back to the precise temperature required for the best taste.

What to Do If Your Wand is Beeping

A beeping wand typically indicates you don’t have enough water in your container. Make sure your fill line is at least to the MIN line on the sous vide wand.

This happened to us when we were cooking two meats on the same day. The cooking temperatures of the two varied too much to cook together, so they were cooked one after another. When I removed the first, the wand began to beep due to the displacement cause by the meat in the bath. This can also occur as the water evaporates.

Our Meals: Opinions from the Whole Family

Firstchop offers numerous recipes you can enjoy. If you choose, they will even send new recipe ideas to your inbox.

For the course of this review, we’ll be taking a look at the following recipes recommended by Firstchop that I tried out using the four meats I selected.

Spicy Green Curry Chicken

Served over rice to help dilute it some of the heat

Spicy flavor means this meal goes great with an off-dry Riesling

HEATING INSTRUCTIONS:

From Thawed 25 min @ 150°F

From Frozen 45 min @ 150°F

Beef Chuck Short Ribs– a hefty cut of roast slow-cooked in port wine

You’ll get a great gravy when you open your package, and this paired very well with our garlic mashed potatoes and salad.

Goes great with Cabernet Sauvignon

HEATING INSTRUCTIONS:

From thawed – 25 min @ 167°F

From frozen – 45 min @ 167°F

Peppercorn Beef Medallions– thick cut from shoulder coated with crushed, smoked black peppercorns and cooked medium rare.

After reheating, give the medallions a quick sear in butter to give a little more heat and color

We paired our meal with roasted potatoes.

Consider pairing with martini or bottle of Rioja Reserva

HEATING INSTRUCTIONS:

From Thawed 25 min @ 132°F

From Frozen 45 min @ 132°F

Boneless Osso Bucco Lamb Shoulder with Root Vegetables– cooked in a flavorful sauce with pearl onions and carrots that have impressed even people who don’t have a taste for lamb.

We served our Osso Bucco with potatoes, a polento-inspired gravy, and risotto.

Consider serving with a Barolo, Barbaresco, or other Piemonte red

HEATING INSTRUCTIONS:

From Thawed 25 min @ 167°F

From Frozen 45 min @ 167°F

Make sure you use tongs when removing and open your meat carefully when it’s done reheating. It’s hot!

Heat Disclaimer

If you don’t like spicy food, the Spicy Green Curry Chicken can be a little harsh. However, if you’re like me and appreciate spicy food, I think you’ll really enjoy it. If you’re not sure, keep a glass of milk on hand!

How do You Like Your Meat Cooked?

When it comes to cooking meat, we have different preferences. For example, I like mine well done. Some meats like the Peppercorn Beef is cooked to medium rare and can be reheated up to well done. For each level of doneness, just increase the temperature by a few degrees. For example, in the case of the Peppercorn Beef, the following applies:

132°F for medium rare (this is the instructed temperature and how the meat was originally cooked)

136°F for medium

140°F for medium well

145°F for well done

A Look at Our Favorites

Let’s take a look at what we each thought of the meats. We’ve provided a little insight into the types of food we like so you can get a feeling of whose preferences may match yours more closely.

We have listed the meats from favorite to least favorite for each person.

Jessica: Team Short Rib

Age: 33

Favorite Food: Roasted potatoes slow cooked with carrots and roast beef

Least Favorite Food- Seafood

  MY TOP PICK: Beef Chuck Short Ribs

Very savory. You can tell this was cooked professionally. There is a rich flavor, and the resultant gravy was awesome on our garlic mashed potatoes. Excellent seasoning.

Spicy Green Curry Chicken

I loved the pairing of spicy with a hint of kafir lime leaves. It wasn’t quite as tender as the lamb or beef, so that made me a little sad. However, I think it went very well with the rice. Rice + Spice = Nice! If you like really spicy food like I do, and I’ve eaten ghost peppers, it may not be quite as spicy as you’re looking for. However, the average person may want to eat with a glass of milk!

Peppercorn Beef Medallions

I’m not a fan of any type of red in the middle, but I did like the flavor. If you like your meat well-done, increase the reheat temperature to 136 degrees F. I also wish it were a bit more tender like short ribs.

Boneless Osso Bucco Lamb Shoulder with Root Vegetables

The sauce is very flavorful, and it was tender due to the slow cook. It has a very pleasant aroma, and I think serving with the riscotto paired well.

Jacob: Team Lamb

Age: 13

Favorite Food: Lasagna

Least Favorite Food: Chicken Alfredo

MY TOP PICK: Boneless Osso Bucco Lamb Shoulder with Root Vegetables

This is my first time eating lamb, and I think the carrot and onion juice marinates the meat very well. This is a really good first impression. If you think you want to try lamb, this is really good.

Beef Chuck Short Ribs

Very tender. I like the way the meat falls apart in your mouth. Perfectly salted. You can taste a hint of wine. Marinated perfectly. Compliments to the chef!

Spicy Green Curry Chicken

Could be a bit more spicy. Well salted. I wish it was cooked a little slower so it would be more tender. Overall, impressed that he made a piece of chicken into such a delicious hunk of meat!

Peppercorn Beef Medallions

I like that it’s medium rare, but this was my least favorite because it was a bit lacking in salt. I also would have liked it if it were more tender. I think it could have been marinated a little longer.

Jenna: Team Beef Medallion

Age: 11

Favorite Food: Green Bean Casserole

Least Favorite Food: Flan

  MY TOP PICK: Peppercorn Beef Medallions

  Really good. Chewy… less tender. Kind of reminds me of steak cooked outside on the grill. The outdoorsy taste and texture makes it my favorite.

Beef Chuck Short Ribs

Tastes good. Very hearty.

Spicy Green Curry Chicken

Has a lemony flavor. Not too spicy, but a hint of spiciness. Tender. Juicy.

Boneless Osso Bucco Lamb Shoulder with Root Vegetables

Flavorful. Very good. So many flavors I don’t know what to say! Tender.

Other Options by Firstchop

Firstchop offers a variety of meats aside from the four I chose. You can also select:

Many people are skeptical buying food over the Internet. It is a relatively new concept, and you don’t get to see what you’re buying until it arrives at your doorstep. That’s why Firstchop offers a very fair guarantee.

If you aren’t happy with any of the items you receive, they will provide you with a refund. Using their 30 day money back guarantee and one year replacement warranty on their sous vide wand, you have the confidence you need to at least see if sous vide is right for you. If anything’s wrong with the wand, just let them know, and they’ll provide a prepaid shipping label to return it.

If you’ve ever tried to return meat to the grocery store, you were likely turned away. In this case, you’re better protected buying your meat through Firstchop.

All Firstchop’s products have been inspected and approved by the USDA. Keep in mind the portions are enough for two adults. If feeding a family, you’ll need to order accordingly.

We’ve provided our honest opinions, and I ensured everyone’s feedback was provided confidentially to eliminate potential influence. Overall, our experience with Firstchop was very positive.

To ensure we provide you with an in-depth and reliable idea of what to expect should you decide to order, I took a look around to see if my experience was reflective of what other customers report. Here’s what I found:

PROS

I’ve seen complaints that you don’t get to pick your proteins, but I was able to pick mine. As someone who doesn’t eat pork, I appreciated this. If you come across similar misinformation, keep in mind this was changed in March 2018 shortly following the feedback. This shows the company is quick to implement change and values what customers have to say… always a big plus in my books!

Cooking the meats is effortless

Sous vide wand is less expensive than some top competitors

Meat is consistently very tender

Whole cuts of beef, poultry, pork, and lamb are used

Excellent seasoning

Plenty of variety

Under $5 per serving

CONS

Box is bulky

Mylar liner and the plastic pouches around the meats are not recyclable

No WiFi compatibility with sous vide wand to heat up water while you’re out of the kitchen

No organic option. Although the majority of customers aren’t willing to pay the necessary extra amount over conventional meat, I have seen customers who say they’d be willing to pay extra if this were made to be an option.

No temperature instructions for various levels of doneness

The meat sizes vary, but this doesn’t make a difference in cost- if you like items that weigh less like the Peruvian chicken at six ounces, there isn’t a lower cost than if you pick something like the spicy chicken at 14 ounces.

Whether you’ve already received your order or are excitedly awaiting its arrival, there are a few things you’ll want to know as a customer.

How do I manage my subscription?

Log into account and click the Manage Subscription button

To cancel subscription, just email info@firstchop.com

Is meat USDA approved?

How long can you refrigerate meats?

How long can you freeze meats?

Can I overcook using sous vide method?

With the correct temperature set, you can’t overcook, but Firstchop recommends limiting the bath to no more than two hours

Can I cook more than one meat simultaneously?

If heating times are similar you may

Is meat safe to eat if bag fills with water?

Do I need to sear the meat after reheating?

No, but you can if you want to

How much time total should I set aside to prepare my meats

One hour to consider preheating time

As you can see, Firstchop takes a lot of the headache out of dinner, so what’s the cost? Considering the quality of the meats and the fact that they’re all prepared by a professional check, it’s pretty reasonable.

Firstchop understands needs and budgets vary. Whether you want to make Firstchop your go-to dinner solution every night or just need a small amount to supplement your weekly menu, there’s a plan to meet your needs:

Starter Box- 4-Pack and Sous Vide Wand

Custom 4-Pack Box of Sous Vide-Ready Meats

Custom 8-Pack

Once you’ve purchased your starter box, you won’t need to repurchase the sous vide wand. At that point, it’s up to you to decide between the 4 or 8-pack options. I found these options make it easier to fit into your budget.

Firstchop Review: Our Final Verdict

As someone who’s always been a fan of the convenience of crockpot food and loved the slow-cooked tenderness of meat, Firstchop was a new and exciting method that delivers the same quality in a fraction of the time. It’s great for busy people.

When cooking, meats can be the most time consuming component with the highest degree of error in cooking. I love that Firstchop takes the complication out of dinner and allows me to eat in style without ever leaving the house.

I was surprised that my family’s favorite meats included so much variance. I think this shows they have something for everyone.  The sides that constitute a whole meal are inexpensive and typically only consist of some vegetables or rice. I love that you can cook more than one protein at a time, and, since the meat comes pre-cooked, there’s no need to sear it before applying the sous vide cooking method. All you have to do is serve!

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