#shout if you're keen and I may post more

[cyanocoraxx]

Hello! You have cool snakes and know a lot about them too, could I have some of your advice? I've recently been really into snakes, and seen tiktoks of how happy their owners are with them, it makes me really jealous and wishful for a snake companion of my own.

Except I know NOTHING about them, their care, needs or expenses. My experience with pets is a typical low to average maintenance dog, that's it. Never handled reptiles in my life. BUT SNAKES ARE SO ENTICING, and supremely cute too

I was wondering if you have any advice for a complete beginner on what kind of snake to get that's easy and as I said, for beginners (if it even works that way, I don't know a lot about snakes). If you have any resources and such.

Or even like, a checklist to see if I'm even eligible to own a snake (it could be hard idk). Want to know if it is even within my capabilities, the lifestyle needed and stuff like that.

Could you also give tips on their body language? I remember you mentioning in one of your posts that body language is important, and I wouldn't want to mess up. I want the potential cutie to like me after all.

Thank you anyway for your time! Appreciate it <3

so sorry for the late response i wanted to sit down and give a proper thought out guide and just haven't had time <3

checklist for eligibility:

you will need: a terrarium/vivarium, a heating device (heat mat, ceramic emitter or heat bulb), a thermostat (to control the heating device), a water bowl, a hide, substrate, and enrichment (sticks, leaves, decoration etc). make sure you have all of this on hand before you bring your pet home

you'll need to be comfortable or at least willing to feed your snake frozen prey, which means being able to consistently provide mice or rats (most common). most reptile stores will stock frozen!

depending on the species you want you'll need space for a vivarium. if you want a snake that can grow to be 4ft for example you'll need a space to put a 4ft viv.

you'll need to have time to regularly spot-clean their enclosure, which means binning their waste and removing shed skin. a full clean out once a month if not bioactive.

best "starter" snakes (imo):

rosy boa (2-3ft long, 25 years+)

royal python (3-6ft long, 20-30 years+)

corn snake (4-6ft long, 15-20 years+)

rosy boa - these little noodles don't get enough credit! they stay very small, they're very docile, and easy to care for. due to them being so small they only need small prey items which won't take up a lot of space in your freezer. they're very good eaters. downside is they're less common than royals and corns so depending on where you are you may struggle to find one near you. they can also be more food-motivated than royals and when they have food on their mind they can be a little more bitey - but with their tiny size, i promise you can't even feel it (from experience)

royal/ball python - a very common snake that can be found in most reptile shops. they're well known for being extremely docile and easy to handle as well as being super duper cute. they live longer than corns and rosys. downside to royals is they can be "fussy eaters" which can make new owners nervous - they're known for going off their food for months. they will also need larger prey items as they grow, so if you're not keen on keeping larger mice/rats in your freezer this is a downside. they're also more sensitive to improper temperature and humidity than corns.

corn snake - very common so can be bought easily! they also tend to be some of the cheapest snakes, especially if you want to get a "normal/wild type" morph. due to them having a large range in the wild they can tolerate a wider range of temperatures and humidity levels. corns are much more active than royals and rosys, so if you want a snake you can watch do its thing then a corn is a good shout. with this being said, they can be more "squirmy" when being handled compared to royals and rosys as they kind of struggle to stay still.

however, you're not limited to a choice of just three species. as long as you research your snake thoroughly and make sure you have everything you need, you can keep whichever you prefer. my first snake was a brazilian rainbow boa which is a more "intermediate" species and "not suitable for beginners" but he's been great. with their more extreme humidity requirements, i just made sure to keep a hygrometer on hand (to measure humidity) and provided plenty of moss, a large water bowl, and regular mist spraying. never had an issue <3

basic body language:

it's important to note that when a snake is preparing to shed its skin it will be vulnerable. its eyes will cloud over and its skin will feel irritated. we call this being "in blue" because the snake takes on a milky blue colour. during this time your snake might become defensive and this is normal. you should leave a snake in blue alone.

signs of a calm snake: short tongue flicks, loose and relaxed body, moving slowly, fluidly moving towards stimuli, curiosity, regular breathing. a calm snake may sit in an "S" position but it will not be coiling up or fixating on you.

signs of stress in snakes include: long and slow tongue flicks, tail rattling, tail wagging, hissing, striking, open mouth breathing, regurgitation, body flattening, gliding (moving very quickly away), coiling with the head raised (preparing to strike)

this is a very obvious example of a defensive corn snake: their body is coiled into an "S" shape, the head is raised. it takes this position so that it can 1. have a clear view of you 2. to strike upwards/forwards at you if it feels threatened 3. to look bigger to frighten you off. this is a snake who doesn't want to be touched at ALL

let me know if you need anything else <3

[wolves-in-the-world]

[spoilers aplenty. brushing briefly on ptsd, abuse, suicidal ideation, drug misuse; the ep itself gets into things way more.]

— the first glimpse of cc is incredible. dude really committed to the long-haired trash gremlin look (@darkfinch's words) and I have only fondness in my heart.

— TWO MINUTES IN and I want to offer him a hug and respect his personal space

— his therapist just cracked a joke at his expense after offering no help

— (paused three minutes in to write up angry thoughts about talking therapy that I will not be sharing, it's going well, folks)

— just got the first jarring scene change to the gentle suburbia soap opera genre yes this would be very cute by itself

— cc has a Thing about ravens. I'm not sure what it is but he asked his therapist if it's legal to shoot them and now he's staring at one at the crime scene like it means something. I think (tongue in cheek) this is a nod to cc being in a wildly different genre of his own where being haunted by both one's own figurative demons and literal corvids is a thing that can actually happen.

— (finch tells me the ravens are sleep-deprivation-episode specific but I'm amused by my theory so it's staying.)

— suburbia soap opera dad is now asking the boss? friend? of his open and communicative wife, who was openly giggling over text messages that morning, whether she's cheating on him. (no-one is that bad at it, in a story at least, c'mon)

— CC enters the coffee scene yawn-first, as is right and proper

— he's still being stalked by ravens

— "hey uh, do you mind if I uh use your fancy little sophisticated, uh, thingim- uh, coffee?"

— I think he just electrocuted himself turning the coffee machine off. who let him out

— he's either testing whether he's having a stroke or he's not sure his hands are real, they're still questioning the rich dude about the death, and yes, his partner slapped his hands and hissed at him to stop it

— one of the side characters is apparently famous at a surfer bar for having punched a shark and saved several swimmers

— chasing-a-suspect time and cc is running alongside the police car because, and I quote, "it's more fun"

— cc launches himself at the suspect, yelling wordlessly, and topples a stand of fake flowers. folks I think he's feeling the effects of the caffeine.

— he then POINTS A GUN at a raven and his partner's like "hey are you okay" and not, for instance, "holy shit you should not be carrying a gun right now"

— cc is interrogating the suspect while cc's head is on his arms on the table

— suburban dad is crashing a fancy event and using his badge to get in so he can spy on his wife and catch her in the act??

— spoiler he does not catch her in the act and she and the dude are far more gracious than he deserves (I haven't even seen how they react yet I'm just safely assuming)

— correct

— cc is… going swimming, alone, at night, in search of boat wreckage that may have killed an unwary swimmer. oh buddy.

— at some point in replies somewhere finch said cc's hair is its own character in this and holy shit yeah. yeah I'm watching him with rapt attention. give that man an oscar.

— the LEAST homoerotic threateningly-getting-close-to-another-dude's-face I've ever seen, nice job

— suburban dad faux-apologises to his wife, immediately sneaks a look at her phone and questions her about it, then faux-apologises again

— rapid scene change to cc 'waking up' in a flashbacky nightmare looking exactly like a scared and confused kid, I swear

— I have like ten screenshots of him looking scared and bewildered and I'm not sorry. how does he DO this.

— there's this mounting fear and tension in this scene centred around his dad (with a gory hole in his face, possibly cc's work, probably self-defence after a lot of abuse) cooking him a meal and expecting him to eat it and I don't know how to convey just how much I DON'T want him to eat that meal

— cc, now awake, just apologised to his partner for ruining suburban mum's fancy event (by saying "hey, arrest a dude there, we have [shaky] evidence against him") and like. he clearly is not aware how much suburban dad had managed to ruin it by himself already. also suburban dad's response to this genuine apology is a slightly sarcastic "an apology?" before quizzing him about the "is my wife cheating" situation. (at this point, I kind of hope she is.)

— "I guess not everybody had a nightmare for a father" says cc's partner after witnessing him waking from a nightmare about his father. hey. hey. suburban dad, I want a word.

— "you broke into my office because you're looking for drugs." "well you're late for work, which is very unprofessional."

— cc has graduated from asking this therapist for sleeping pills to asking her for amphetamines so he can stay awake. buddy. how are you not falling over dizzy by now.

— he steals his therapist's mug to take a swig, ejects it slowly back into the mug while maintaining eye contact, then says "tea? this early in the morning?" and leaves

— side character now admits to having punched a dolphin, not a shark. "bailey, I could've taken out its eye. what does a dolphin do without peripheral vision, huh??"

— we have (unexpectedly) reached the white supremacists portion of the episode

— of course the white supremacists are a gang, criminal-coded criminals, gosh, is there even another kind of white supremacist that popular media can portray? (heavy sarcasm)

— the owner of the coffee maker is telling them how his son was doing great up until his mother died, and cc's face goes from disapproving and interrogative to this subtle awful introspection and hey. hey. stop it.

— "well, we have a few choices. bird, plants, pizza delivery." "tweet tweet." "tweet tweet." congrats on the buddy cop lingo boys but hey what

— there is a raven circling overhead, spooky

— ohhhh birdwatching as a cover, nice

— credit to the character but even wildly sleep-deprived, he gets attentive and careful when the stakes are high (I'm betting it's somehow adrenaline-related. no way someone that messed up handles messed-up situations well.)

— this is a nice action sequence, actually. I might be tempted to watch more just to see more like this.

— ha ha great time to start freaking out and hearing his dad's voice (if he's actually scared of the dark and that's not just his dad taunting him, then oh man, I feel for him. that's a thing it feels weird to never grow out of.)

— okay suburban mum and dad ARE cute. this is true of them. he's also an idiot. this is also true.

— uh oh it's the blue lighting of flashbacky nightmares again. also this dude lives in a trailer, which, no judgement, but feels a lot like "I lived in a house before my wife and child died and now I can't face that anymore"

— it is indeed a flashbacky nightmare and it is in fact worse than before. I shan't go into details here.

— the episode does end with cc Deciding To Talk To His Therapist which, good for him, this is possibly a good place to end my Lethal Weapon Experience since we have it on good authority it doesn't exactly get any better.

— standard reminder (because I often forget this) that cop shows like to do this thing where good-hearted cops need people's co-operation and honest, lawyerless answers purely so they can solve Big Bad Crimes and keep people safe, and that that is a nice fantasy that works in these stories, but a dangerous thing to believe.

general conclusions: his hair is an art form, it is nice to see him doing more fighty stuff (didn't realise I missed that with kittyfangs), and I once again wish to offer him a hug and respect his personal space. how does he do that.

not-quite-liveblogging of Lethal Weapon episode 2.7 "birdwatching", the sleep deprivation episode, having only gotten a vague idea of the show from finch's posts and googled to make sure of the names

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

I wish my brain would stop taking requests as suggestions. With that said, asks are open for suggestions!! Please I can't keep writing two versions of each post please-

Oh, And I'm definitely making more sub Poseidon after this

Pairings/Warnings: AFAB!Reader x Poseidon || Fucking with mic on (exhibitionism or voyeurism, can't remember), grinding, top Poseidon

Creeping into the room, your face glows with joy at seeing your lover on his game, completely unaware of what you're 'bout to do.

You take a single deep breath- in through your nose, and out through your mouth went the nervousness. Before you could chicken out, deft feet were slipping through the crack as trembling hands closed the door behind you.

It was cold in the room, freezing even, and you shivered as the air met your bare legs, partially hidden under a stolen shirt. The only light came from the wall length aquarium at the back and the TV at the front. Shouting and sounds of gunfire poured from the speakers. If you listened carefully, you could hear the clicking of buttons on your beloved's controller as he made his way through the battle.

You started for him, slowly creeping up and resting your hands on his shoulders. He grunted in acknowledgement. His lack of surprise told of his keen awareness of his surroundings, even when focusing on a different task.

Nerves made you swear even as you traced the muscles of his exposed arms. Despite your shyness, feeling him like this reminded you of more heated times, when you'd grasp onto those strong biceps for support as your legs gave out.

Just touching him drives you crazy. Your mouth waters a little, thinking of how it'd feel to really touch him.

Your hands trail further down, reaching his forearms before coming back up to glide over his clothed chest. You want to rip his shirt off and expose the body befitting his status that hid underneath. The only thing stopping you- other than Poseidon himself, of course -is the faith that he'd strip willingly soon.

After some indecision, your light touches gain some weight to them. You finally grasped his chest. He grunts low into the mic, though no one seems to take notice.

His gaze is on you now, heavy and demanding a reason. But you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, focusing instead on toying with the hardening nipples in your hands.

"I'm going off mic."

Not a second later, he's got a hard grip on your face, pulling you closer, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Up, up, and away went whatever confidence you may have gained. Even if you wanted to speak, the grip on your jaw prevented much more than useless babble from escaping. He took note of this, easing up enough actual words could be formed.

"I'm..." You gasp, "...Asking for it." He knows what you mean. It's a conversation you have all the time: if you want something, ask for it. Specifically, if you want sex, ask for it.

Aquamarine eyes pin you where you stand, tracing over your facial features with a care reserved for you. He releases your jaw, nodding at his lap and refocusing on the game.

You sit down slowly, facing him. Nerves made your movements stiff and awkward, and he glared as you jostled the controller and fucked up a combo.

You wonder if the shade of red coloring your face had been discovered yet.

Silence wraps around the two of you, broken only by your synchronized breaths.

You shift some, and feel it twitch beneath you.

A quiet exhale. You made it to this point without combusting; there was no going back now.

You lean into him, feeling embarrassed as you lift yourself to pull his pants down. Thankfully, he took the hint and cooperated, and soon both his pants and boxers had fallen to the floor.

No words on Poseidon's part, but you sensed they were soon to come.

That's not the only thing soon to "cum." You joked. Lame as it is, it made the moment less serious, allowing you a certain amount of comfortability.

Your mounting excitement is visible in your movements, eagerness and impatience taking over. Almost there, he's almost yours!

You reach behind you, letting out a small moan as your fingers wrap around him. A few leisurely strokes, and you have to suppress a much louder moan as you feel him hardening in your hand. Sending a silent prayer that he's too horny to care about the success of his next combo, you do quite a bit more jostling to get his dick in front of you.

He glares, but that's nothing new.

You chuckle quietly, fading off as your lust takes back over. You loved it, really, seeing how his size would fit in you. Pressing 'him' against your stomach and watching how he lined up; you don't need memories to know it would wind up deep in your gut, driving all thoughts from your head and air from your lungs.

You palm him slowly this time; with purpose, one might say. You pull your shirt up, desperate for friction, and angle yourself as you build a steady grind against him. You throw your head back, closing your eyes and just feeling while you tune out all but Poseidon's breath in your ears.

You heard the click of him shutting off his mic again.

"Is that the best you can do?" He chastised. "Not even taking your underwear off. Are you so desperate you can't even finish undressing?"

Thick fingers slid under your panty line, though rather than sliding them down, his hand arched up, tearing the fabric effortlessly. He spoke over your sounds of surprise, sounding bored and mildly irritated.

"Hurry and get what you came here for."

Though it shames you some to admit it, the show of strength sent a gush of arousal from your hole. It began to overflow, dripping down and pooling in his lap in a wonderful display of lewdness.

For fucks sake, why wasn't he in you yet?!

Wasting no more time, you lift your hips and sink down on his dick. A drawn out moan fills your mouth as the stretch hits. He's so thick at the base, you have to catch your breath and start over again, unable to slide the rest in in one go.

Spotting your struggle, he takes control, holding your waist with one hand as he slammed into you.

His other hand held the controller- he was still playing his game.

It's hot, so hot. You're on fire from the inside out, and burning has never felt so good. Switching angles, his cock drives straight into your sweet spot, and you see stars. Your breathe comes in short bursts, each as much a moan as they were desperate attempts to breath.

Eyes rolling back, legs trembling, the tight feeling at your core- so close. You were so close-

You bite your lip and stumble in your movements as you hear the tell-tale click of his mic coming on.

He says nothing as he meets the confused, panicked look in your eye. He put a finger to his lips- the universal sign for shush -and thrust upwards.

What is he thinking?! You can't- they'll hear you- know what you're doing-

His cock drags against your sweet spot in the most delicious way, the fingers on his free hand finding their way to your clit. The feeling is your drug. Who cares if they hear you? They'll know how good Poseidon can make you feel, does make you feel. They'll know he can touch all the right places in all the right ways, and that he's at his best when he's making you cum.

Deep inside, you're thinking "I shouldn't want this." You're saying it's wrong, it's embarrassing, something someone like you would never even dream of doing.

But then again, how could something you'd thought so wrong feel so damn right?

A quiet breathe in and out, and you're meeting his movements with increasing speed, losing your mind as you slammed down on him, lost in pleasure as you were. For sure now, the people on the other end of the mic could hear you. They'd hear the slapping of skin, the macaroni sounds your pussy makes as his dick stirs your insides.

Hell, you want them to hear it. The moans start up again, louder than before, more desperate, chasing after your orgasm full force. You could feel him throbbing, twitching inside you, hear the grunts when you clenched down hard. It brought you pride, knowing you were the one making it all happen. Knowing you would be the one to send him over the edge.

It was hard to continue bouncing when you'd gotten so sensitive. But here he is, ever attuned to your needs, finishing the job for you.

The two of you came at the same time, crashing into orgasmic bliss together, the evidence in your moans. You collapse against him, trembling, gasping.....smiling, as you realized your breaths had already fallen back in sync.

A wave of exhaustion crashed over you. Defenseless as you were in the afterglow of your orgasm, it took seconds for it to lure your eyelids close. Your mind, going dark as unconsciousness came....

A question from the speakers you didn't quite catch. Poseidon answering it brusquely. You floating. No, not floating. You were being picked up, and rested on...a bed?

"....Poseidon." His name came out like a dreamy sigh. "[Name]." Your's came out like a confession.

"Where..."

"My bed. Your noise made us lose the game- I refuse to listen to a bunch of lowlifes whine about their own failure in my ear for another hour."

You blushed hard, suddenly far more awake and aware than you'd prefer to be. You could practically feel the smugness radiating off him, making you squirm.

"So, they really...." He settled in next to you, pulling you against him. "Yes. They heard every sultry moan you made. You practically had my mic on your mouth, after all."

How the hell could he say that with a straight face?!

"By the gods..." Embarrassment isn't a strong enough word. You are absolutely mortified. But at the same time, you find it kind of....

Nope. That's something you can address another day. For now, you turn over and tuck yourself into his neck, intending to hide there until "another day" comes. You can hear him chuckle quietly, a rare, gorgeous sound. Tangling yourselves in each other's arms, his scent feels your nose. The ocean during a storm, as you describe it.

Surrounded by his warmth, you feel your drowsiness return. A smile is on your face; if anything felt better than the orgasms he gave you, it was falling asleep in his arms after.

The quiet snores from him convinced you he agreed.

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

A/N: Never thought I'd write out macaroni sounds but here I am ig. Anon, FORGIVE ME. This wasn't supposed to take as long as it did so hopefully it's worth it😭😭😭

As usual, comments are appreciated and encouraged! And if you find a spelling error, do let me know. I rewrote this as I checked errors, so there could be more. And stream Sweetest Pie by Dua Lipa and Meg. 💞

[thatsassyhufflepuff]

Hey! Hope you're doing good. May I request a draco X fem!ravenclaw!reader where Draco asks her to be his girlfriend but she refuses because her parents wouldn't allow her to date anyone. But they sneak around and do it anyway. And when her parents find out, they are furious and start scolding her brutally, but Draco comes in and argues about how it's not that wrong to date anyone. And then he comforts her because she was crying, and it's full of fluff. Oh and no voldy AU please. Thanks💕

The Serpent & The Eagle

A/N: Hello there! Thank you so much for this request; I'm doing just fine, thank you! I hope you like this! <3 I have one more request to write and then I'll open my inbox back up, so stay tuned and have your requests ready! :) Sorry this took me so long, I’ve been working a ton! Once this is up I’ll probably post ch. 31 of Stronger Than Blood (You can start that here!) & write my final request in my inbox after that!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female reader

House: Ravenclaw

Year: 5th

Warnings: angst and lots of fluff! <3

Though she knew Draco mostly had good intentions, Y/N Y/L/N, a Ravenclaw in her 5th year, was a bit nervous when he asked her to meet him at the Astronomy Tower that night.

"Sure," she answered slowly. "But what's the occasion?"

Draco smirked. "Who says there needs to be an occasion? Don't overwork that big brain of yours, Y/N. Just be there."

That was all he said before he winked at her and strode away confidently. Y/N barely refrained from banging her head against the nearest wall. Telling a Ravenclaw not to overwork their brain was like telling the bloody Pope not to be Catholic!

"Stupid, sneaky Slytherin," Y/N mumbled to herself, which earned her a few odd glances from students who passed her in the corridor, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Just what was Draco Malfoy up to?

***

"Ready or not, here I come!" Y/N shouted as she ascended the winding staircase that led to the Astronomy Tower. When she reached the top, Draco was, as usual, smirking at her.

"No need to announce your presence, Y/N. You sounded like a pack of wild Hippogriffs stomping up the stairs."

"I was not stomping!" The Ravenclaw pouted, tossing her Y/H/C hair over her shoulder, raising her chin defiantly.

"Sure you weren't," the blonde drawled with a snicker. "You also weren't muttering something about a sneaky, slimy, irritating git on your way up." He winked. "Surely you weren't speaking of me, though."

Y/N blushed deeply, not bothering to deny it.

"Relax, would you?" he murmured into her ear as he slung an arm around her shoulders, guiding her forward.

"Relax, he says," she grumbled. "You know how much I hate surprises, Draco!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm fairly certain you'll like this one, Y/N."

She arched an eyebrow at that but kept silent as the Slytherin propelled her forward further into the Tower. Y/N let out a little gasp when she saw what was before her.

He'd set up an entire bloody candlelight dinner for them.

"Draco..." Y/N breathed. "When on Earth did you have the time to set this up?"

He smirked. "I bribed the house elves."

"Of course you did." She snorted, smiling her thanks as Draco pulled out her seat for her and pushed it in before taking a seat himself.

The two enjoyed dinner in a comfortable silence. The Ravenclaw could tell Draco was nervous about something, but she knew better than to pressure him. He'd talk eventually. And, of course, she was right.

"Y/N..." His gray eyes danced in the candlelight as he reached across the table, taking her hand between both of his. "You were right."

"I usually am," she said cheekily. "But what about this time?"

Draco was so nervous that he didn't even roll his eyes at her snark. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard, running a thumb across her knuckles tenderly.

"I'm absolutely mad about you, Y/N," he admitted. "I'm sure you can tell. You're bloody brilliant. But I was wondering if...if you'd be my girlfriend?"

Much to Draco's surprise, the Ravenclaw witch's eyes filled with tears.

"I can't," she whispered, pulling her hand away. Draco's eyebrows lowered.

"Why not? Do you..." he gulped. "Do you not feel the same way? I thought--"

"Oh, Draco, no!" she cried, grabbing his hand again to give it a reassuring squeeze. "I feel the exact same way. It's only..." Y/N sighed. "My parents are rather strict, and they've forbidden me to date while I attend Hogwarts. I'm to focus on my studies."

"That's bollocks," Draco scoffed, squeezing her hand back. At her glare, he sighed, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair. "Sorry. But who says they need to find out?"

Y/N frowned. "I don't like lying to them."

"It's not lying." Draco assured her, wiggling his eyebrows. "Besides, your parents aren't here, and summer holiday is months away. We'll be careful." His eyes pleaded with her. "Please, Y/N?"

She scowled at him, her cheeks flushing pink. "Ugh, fine. I can't say no to that face." With an impish grin, Y/N leaned over the table, minding the flame of the candle and kissing Draco softly.

This is absolutely insane. She thought, but soon all she could focus on was the feeling of his lips on hers.

***

In all honesty, Y/N was surprised it took her parents as long as it did to find out about her relationship with Draco. That knowledge didn't stop her heart from sinking as an owl dropped a letter into her lap one morning at breakfast about three months later.

"Who's that from?" A familiar voice asked. Y/N looked up and smiled tightly as her boyfriend plopped into a seat next to her, heedless of the stares he got as a Slytherin sitting down at the Ravenclaw table. By then, most of Hogwarts was used to their relationship, but the stares never quite ceased.

"My parents," She replied with a grimace as she tore open the letter, reading aloud:

Y/N,

We need to have a chat. After you receive this owl, you’re to report to Dumbledore’s office to access his fireplace to Floo home.

“They didn’t even sign their names?” Draco asked, reading over her shoulder. Y/N scowled, tossing aside the piece of parchment.

“They’ve never been the touchy-feely type of parents, Dray.” She said, getting to her feet. Draco placed a hand on her arm.

“You’re going now?”

She nodded. “Best just to get it over with.”

Her boyfriend stood. “I’ll go with you.”

The Ravenclaw knew that there was no talking him out of it, so she nodded but gave him a stern look. “Fine, but stay out of the room. I can handle this.”

***

Y/N wasn’t sure that she could handle this at all, but there was no way she was telling Draco that. His protectiveness would only make things worse.

He squeezed her hand as they emerged into the Y/L/N home sometime later, stepping out of the fireplace. Y/N exhaled with relief when they weren’t greeted by her parents, turning to look up at Draco.

“The library is right next to the drawing room. Please stay there until I come back for you."

The Slytherin responded by leaning down to give her a quick peck on the lips before walking towards the library. Y/N squared her shoulders before making her way into the drawing room where, as expected, her parents were there waiting for her, facing away from her, whispering to each other.

"You wanted to have a chat, so here I am." Y/N said by way of greeting. If she hadn't been so nervous, the way her parents turned around in sync would've made her laugh.

"Y/N." Her mother greeted her with a stiff nod. Her father's gaze swept her features, the disapproval coming off of him in waves.

"Lip gloss?" he snorted.

"Freshly smudged," her mother added, curling her lip. "Y/N, how many times do we have to tell you that-"

"My education comes first, I know," The Ravenclaw sighed. "But Mum, Dad, if you just met him, I think you'd really like him."

Both of her parents scoffed at that. "Y/N," her father pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've always been such a bright girl. Why are you letting the first young wizard to ever give you attention to ruin that?"

"I beg your pardon?" Angry tears stung Y/N's eyes.

"You heard your father!" Her mother cried. "Your first boyfriend and our little girl is completely unrecognizable. The smudged lip gloss, the way your robes are askew. Honestly, Y/N, are you so keen on making our family the laughingstock of the wizarding world?"

Nausea swept through Y/N at what her own mother was implying, that she was some sort of whore with loose morals! A few tears slipped down her cheeks, but before she could bring herself to speak, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Y/N tensed.

"Draco," she hissed, looking up at him. "What did I tell you?"

"All right in here?" He asked instead of answering her, looking first at the Ravenclaw witch then at her parents.

"And who might you be?" her father narrowed his eyes at Draco, taking in the hand the Slytherin had on his daughter's shoulder.

"Draco Malfoy, sir. Y/N's boyfriend." Y/N was frozen in shock as Draco slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side, gently thumbing away her tears. "And you're wrong. Both of you are."

"Excuse me?" Her mother gasped, outraged.

"You heard me," Draco drawled. "Y/N is one of the brightest, sweetest, most hard-working witches I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. You lot should be ashamed of yourselves. She didn't agree to date me at first, do you know why?" He glared at her parents. "Because despite the way you treat her, she didn't want to keep this from you. She knew you'd act like this. But no matter. As her boyfriend, I will in no way allow her to fall behind in her studies. In fact," He squeezed Y/N's shoulders. "We often help each other with our assignments. If you're done insulting my girlfriend, we'll be going now."

"Now see here-" Her father spluttered, but Draco cut him off.

"No, I don't think I will. Let's go, darling."

With that, he steered his shell-shocked girlfriend out of the drawing room and into the library, where she immediately bursted into tears. Draco drew her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her frame and rubbing her back gently.

"You're okay, my love." he whispered into her hair. "I've got you. You're okay."

"Did you hear what my mum said?" Y/N choked out. Draco kissed her temple and nodded.

"It's not true, you know." He held his girlfriend away from him in a loose embrace. "You've got one of the strongest moral compasses of anyone I've ever met, love. Though I have to admit," he gave her a teasing grin, ducking his head to rest his forehead against hers. "Dating a prick like me makes me wonder sometimes."

Y/N choked out a laugh, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Draco cupped her face in his hands, thumbs tracing her tears away. Her eyes fluttered shut as her hands came up to wrap around his wrists, keeping his hands on her face.

"I love you," she said in a wobbly voice, but her smile was radiant, and Draco's heart soared.

"And I you, my brilliant, gorgeous girlfriend." He kissed her nose, then all over her face until she was laughing. "Now let's go home, hmm?"

And so they did. Not only was their home at Hogwarts, their home was in each other. An Eagle and a Serpent who lived in harmony sounded like a myth, but it was their beautiful reality. One they intended to cherish for as long as the fates would allow.

~~~

End notes: I hope this is good, I’m not a Ravenclaw so I hope I got it right! 🙉

taglist: @rosiehufflepuff @riddleswh0r3crux @desiredmalfoy @typewriting101 @is-it-really-a-secret

(If you'd like to be added to my Draco taglist PM me! <3)

[yandere-wishes]

🖤💔Yandere!Demon Slayers As Demons💔🖤

Dear readers for the first time in two weeks I offer you something that isn't a random post or a rant. This is an AU that I’ve been working on for a while, and seeing how this turns out I might continue it in terms of one shots and a mini series. Please enjoy!!

👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺👺

Demon Tanjiro is much more complex than his human counterpart. His mood fluctuates too much, alternating between a loving docile young demon desperate for his lover's warm embrace, to a rabid beast who's willing to tear your stomach open with his claws and feast on your entrails while you're still breathing. He's just too unpredictable, what makes him praise you and litter your body with toothy kisses, might just get your arm dislocated the next day. There's just no telling, he just isn't Tanjiro anymore, he's some wild, savage, murderous monster wearing Tanjiro's face.

He's always watching...

His mere gaze isn't enough to turn you into a motionless rag doll. Slumped in the corner like a forgotten toy. No, but his silence is. The way his eyes are locked on you as if your some sort of little bunny that waltzed into his territory, the way his mouth is sewn shut by some invisible thread, the way his head is tilted to the side like he was trying to calculate your next move...it's all too tranquil, too clam, just like the eye of a hurricane. 

Languidly Tanjiro begins to crouch down, his moves are rapid and glitchy as if he isn't in control of his own body. Somewhere you hear something cracking, it's a dreadful noise like hammers pounding at your skull. It's only when you lift your eyes to the Oni in front of you, do you realize the noise is coming from him. It's like he's deforming in some way, dying and regenerating all in a single breath...and yet he still looks so...so beautiful. 

Even while he's stalking towards you on hands and knees, you can't deny how stunning he looks. Mouth molded into a small smile, long rust-colored locks pooling on the ground around him and his eyes... they're red one second and brown the next, changing ever so quickly just like his moods. 

He's much more passive like this, you note as if you've made some sort of groundbreaking discovery. So docile and calm...almost like a storm before it strikes. No, Tanjiro is not a storm you remind your self. He's a lion stalking its prey, relishing in the taunting silence it radiates by its mere presence.

Tanjiro's eyes have lost all hope, all passion. They're nothing more than empty spheres resting in his sockets.

You vaguely remember -or at least you think you do- a time when every action coming from the rust haired boy was entangled in a blanket of passion, every move had a clear purpose, every word was laced with an unyielding fire that had been beaten into his spirit. But now....well you didn't know what he was now, what Mozen and his sadistic "creations" had turned him into. What had they stolen from him? Was it his soul, his hope, or maybe something far worst.

Your amazement only shatters when you notice just how close he's gotten. His icy cold breath tickling the side of your neck. You squirm, pressing your palms flat against his chest. Tangiro doesn't flinch, his head cocks back to the side, his broken stare, vaguely reminds you of a discarded doll. Maybe that's what he is, not a slayer or a demon, just some broken doll that keeps you locked up in his room so that he can get a sense of being needed.

A wave of empathy crashed over you. Wearily you dropped your arms to your side, in a flash Tangiro wraps his long gauntly arms around you, squashing your bones as he pulled you ever so closer to him, nuzzling his visage in the crock of your neck.

Tanjiro Kamado may have once been a remarkable demon slayer on his way to becoming the next water piller of the demon slayer corps...but now he was nothing more than a pitiful broken demon, seeking the feeling of humanity inside a breaking, mortified girl. 

👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹

Zenitsu is a lot bolder, a lot pushier with his affection now that he's been turned into a demon. He wants you to love him the way he loves you, only this time he isn't afraid to break a leg or two, so you'll have no choice but to stay with him. 

His child-like tendencies are still there, albeit demented, yet ever-present. The tantrums and endless crying are as frequent as ever...except now, well now he breaks a bone for every tear YOU make him spill and leaves a scar for every time YOU couldn't satisfy him. Just remember that none of this is poor Zenitsu's fault, oh no, how could it be his fault? He's given you everything you could ever dream of! Even though you're nothing more than a pathetic useless human, Zenitsu still took you as his beloved wife! You should be grateful to him, dedicate your every living second to him, play the role of the loving, caring wife! Not some ungrateful brat, who is always trying to run away!

And yet, you've become oddly accustomed to it. No longer do you mind the screams and beatings. They've grown to be a part of you, a sick and twisted thing that resides within you, infecting your every thought. Much like how Zenitsu's become a heartsick, defective shell of his former self.  

"STOP IT"

something shattered against the wall, breaking into a million flying shards.  The noise echoed through the light less room. Weary, your eyes flashed from the broken remains of what may have been an antique vase, to the crying monster in front of you. The tips of his long curved horns were turning a stark blood red, an indication that his blood was starting to boil. Although you didn't need the mood indicating head tusks to know just how upset the blond crybaby had gotten, they were still a nice little warning to remind you of just how far you could push him. 

"Stop trying to escape!"

Had his voice amplified since your last "screaming contest"?

Did Muzen really think that Zenitsu's voice needed to get any louder, anymore irritating? 

"I wasn't" you deadpanned, your arms crossed in front of your chest. "How can I, did you forget what you did to my leg this morning?" the bones inside your left leg had been deformed, causing your entire leg to point sideways. It was a detestable sight, yet it seemed to fill your rotting heart with a sense akin to a school girl's crush. 

'Zenitsu-chan still loves me! See, see, he went out of his way to touch me!'

'No you idiot, he went out of his way to hurt you.'

Your mind had seemingly been slashed in half since your arrival at the former demon slayer's hideout. One tiny voice acted like a deranged lovesick little girl. Whist the other pertained some form of logic and common sense. This typically led to many interior arguments, all bordering on the exact same premise.

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

HE LOVES ME

HE'S HURTING ME

"Quit your whining!" the voice that escaped your lips, was flat and commanding, for a second it vaguely reminded you of Giyu Tomioka before the memory of your former lover shattered. Zenitsu's crying continued but his angry shouts slowly died down, his golden eyes shifted to stare directly at you. wearily you lifted your hands towards him, like an infant begging to be picked up. 

"I'm hungry Zenitsu! Take me into the kitchen, after all, it's your fault I'm like this!" 

Sure Zenitsu was much more powerful than you, sure he could snap your neck, ending your pitiful life at any moment. But his desperate need for approval -something else that had transcended from his human life to his current one- gave you the upper hand in this muddle of a relationship. 

As a demon Inosuke is more...feral, for lack of a better word. He is all so keen on seeing just how far he can push his darlings limits, both mentally or physically. 

He's always hovering around you, trailing his clawed fingers over patches of exposed skin. Smirking all so curly as you shiver and shrink back. His knife-like fangs seen to be permanently impaling your neck. Draining you of your life force. He's just so damn heartless!

 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️ 🗡️

Although he may be a ruthless monster, a creature of the night that fed on the innocent, there was no denying that Inosuke was resourceful, resourceful, and strong. He knew just where to hide you, so you would neither be found nor have a chance to escape. There was also the way he routinely cracked your fibula and tibia as a “preprecaution”. 

Your arm wasn't meant to bend that way, neither was your leg when you thought about it. Yet despite the odd angle there had yet to be any cracking or popping to indicate the limp had been, once again, broken. The only real evidence to suggest that the limps were in fact being abused was the white scorching pain coursing through them. A feeling that you had almost grown entirely familiar with.

Inosuke's green eyes shifted lazily between your scrunched up face and the twisting limps. One of his "normal" arms was occupied mangling your left arm, the other two appendages that sprouted from his back were pulling your leg upwards at the knee joint.  Inosuke's head leaned over his remaining arm, he looked bored, like your pain was so mundane that it couldn't even grant him a mere chuckle. 

"I like it better when you scream" his voice was laced with a demanding malice, something bitter and rotting. "It's boring when you try to act all strong and mighty". 

You weren't acting, acting required skills, and an audience who wanted to believe in the performer. No, your lack of response wasn't a show of strength or iron will, it was merely because your vocal cords had been shrieked raw, preventing them from making a single peep. 

Your tear-filled eyes shot up to stare into his depraved orbs. Had there ever been a time when his eyes didn't strike fear into those who peered into them? You highly doubted it, heck the idea of Inosuke ever being anything less than terrifying was a laughable thought. 

An eerie familiar noise filled the room, the cracking noise happened in three instances, like three swipes of a blade. First, it was your talus followed by your patella, and then to finish the spin chilling symphony was the crescendo of your breaking humerus for the hundredth time. 

Tears began to flow rapidly from your eyes, staining your thin layer of clothes. You could feel Inosuke's presence shifting about, leaning ever so closer to nuzzle into the side of your neck. His teeth grazing the already punctured skin. 

Inosuke use to be a demon slayer right? A passionate young man who wanted nothing more than to destroy the very same monsters that he himself became? What a laughable story, a fictional tale if ever you'd heard one!

This man was and would always be nothing more than a cruel demon!

[harringtonsbae]

Cleaning Spells and Garrett-Chapter 2

"Reckon I'll see you around, George," Lune got up and put her hand on George's shoulder before bidding Fred and Brielle goodbye. George handed Lune her bag of food and she left out the door of the restaurant.

"Georgie, bloody hell, man. You're absolutely smitten with Lune!" Fred whispered shouted at his twin.

"Fred's right, it's pathetic. Someone will come and pick her up before you even get the chance to," Brielle stated, as she played around with the ice in her drink using her plastic black straw.

"I can't help it! She's just so headstrong and independent. Every time I want to talk to her she asks me to leave!" George held up his hands in defence.

"Merlin, George, I know you're not that daft. She's going through a lot still. I mean she just learned to walk again, and not to mention her flashbacks. Just give her time, but make known you're interested in her," Brielle explained.

"Be the soft George, not the tough exterior George, okay?" She added.

"M'kay, I s'pose I could do that," George replied, thinking about ways he could talk to her.

The next few days Lune was busy with the café, planning the party, and moving into a nice, cosy cottage in the country, where nobody else is. She loves her alone time, but sometimes it was too lonely for her. Now yes, she likes being single, but secretly deep down she wants a slow and sweet relationship with someone nice and caring, but also funny.

So what did Lune do? She posted an ad in the Daily Prophet looking for a roommate. What she didn't expect was someone she had, past tense, fancied apply to be her roommate. None other than Mr George Weasley showed up at the front door of the cottage with boxes of his belongings. Lune was surprised, to say the least by his application, but he was the only one who had wanted to be her roommate.

Lune wondered why he would move out here when he shared a perfectly fine flat with his brother above their joke shop. Fred didn't seem too keen on George being Lune's roommate, being the fact that his twin was his best friend.

Lune was currently in her office typing something on her laptop. She was listening to Bruno Mars' Just the Way You Are and mouthing the words to the song.

Meanwhile, George was down in the kitchen trying to make some biscuits but ended up making a huge mess of the dough and flour. He slowly walked up to Lune's 'office', more like a room with neon signs from pubs on the wall and two desks. One had a gaming set up and the other had papers and her laptop on it.

George stood in front of the door before knocking shyly. There was no response. He opened the door to find Lune typing on her laptop and listening to something in her earbuds. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms over her shoulders. Lune jumped and quickly turned to face him, her hand making contact with his cheek. By the time she realized it was George, he had already been slapped.

Lune jumped up and took out her earbuds.

"Merlin, George! Are you okay? I'm so sorry, you scared me," she softly cupped the cheek her hand had hit. He was rather shocked. She looked at him with deep concern, she didn't mean to hurt him, really. George couldn't help but look into her beautiful sea-green eyes. Fred was right, she had him wrapped around her finger.

"George?" Lune asked, "Why is there biscuit dough and flour on you?" She brought her hand away from his face.

"That's what I came to talk to you about. I may or may not have made a mess and I don't remember any cleaning spells," he lied, trying to sound shy. Really he just wanted an excuse to talk to her. Lune chuckled and went downstairs to cast a cleaning spell.

A few days went by and George hasn't made another mess, yet. Noah's and Neville's party was soon and Lune still didn't have a date for the party. The good news was that her friend, Garrett, was coming all the way from America to stay with her for a few days for a video they were going to film. They had met through VR and then they started to film skits together for fun.

Lune was chilling in her comfy bed watching The Umbrella Academy on Netflix when she heard George calling for her from downstairs. She paused the episode and went downstairs.

"Hey, I think someone is here for you, Lune," George said calmly and led her to the living room where Garrett was sitting on the couch. He got up and the two quickly hugged each other.

"You said you would tell me when you made it to Kings Cross!" She playfully slapped his arm.

"Sorry, I wanted to surprise you," he chuckled.

"It's fine, Garrett. I'm just glad you're here," she smiled warmly. George cleared his throat loudly to get the attention of the two friends.

"This is George," Lune gestured her hand towards the tall ginger. He gave a cold glare to Garrett.

"So this is George, I've heard a lot about you. Honestly, Lune never shuts up about you. Me and my girlfriend, Roisin, are always teasing her about it," Garrett said politely. George's mood seemed to have changed quickly, as they shook hands. George's face was slightly pink.

"Garrett, you can shut up now," Lune mumbled, making Garrett laugh slightly.

"Okay," he shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't do anything wrong.

When Monday came, Garrett and Lune left the cottage to pick up Roisin so they could go and hang out somewhere in London. Noah closed the shop for the week so he and Neville could have their party and plan their wedding.

[eirianerisdar]

Hey, I recently discovered your blog and I just wanted to say that love your fanfics! Your writing is beautiful. If you're taking requests, would you mind writing something to show the bond between Anakin and Obi-Wan, you know, the famous Kenobi and Skywalker duo and your take on how the Galaxy viewed them?

Sorry this is so late, anon! This fits into @finish-the-clone-wars’s 25/7 Writing Wednesday prompt let me convince you. I wanted some good third-person perspective so this is a companion fic to A Face in the Crowd.

This fic is also cross-posted to FFN.

For the Brother I Did Not Deserve

Generals.

Jedi.

Heroes.

At the height of the Clone Wars, Skywalkerand Kenobi were household names across the galaxy.

Adults spoke of them in cafés and bars as Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, trackingthe progress of the Open-Circle Fleet across the Outer Rim sieges by war-reelsand holonet news. Senators and aides alike called them Masters, as politicians have called the Jedi for ten thousand yearsand more, since the Jedi Order first swore their service to the Republic.

But the young knew them as heroes. 

Siblings squabbled over which would win ina full-out duel, Obi-Wan’s devastating calm against Anakin’s fiery resolve;friendships were formed and broken over the keenness of Anakin’s sword-hand andthe steadiness of Obi-Wan’s voice. And yet these petty arguments bonded all theyounglings the galaxy over; there was no skirmish, battle, or campaign thatcould not be won if Obi-Wan and Anakin were there. The fact that they were twomen in an army of millions did not matter. As far as any youngling whoseparents supported the Republic was concerned, the war was already good as won.Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker would see to it.

It was in such a spirit that Yorrick gavehis all in a terrific (and oft-repeated) argument with his best friend, Meron.

 “General Skywalker leveled an entirebattalion’s worth of super battle droids last week on Malastare!” Meron yelledas he flailed around Yorrick’s room, nearly knocking over Yorrick’sneatly-stacked collection of Kenobi collectible info-cards as he did so.

“So?” Yorrick interjected from where he satprimly on the edge of his bed, crossing his arms as Meron turned to glare athim. “General Kenobi would have talked his way out of needing to fight them atall. He did as much before.”

“An entire. Battalion,” Meronhalf-shrieked, eyes aglow and looking every inch of his current eight years.

Yorrick rolled his eyes. They might be thesame age, but there were times where Meron’s excitement over GeneralSkywalker’s latest exploits only manifested itself in long, ramblingconversations where Meron’s utter hero-worship surged like the waves ofCoruscant’s Western Sea, beside which Yorrick’s family had a summer home,courtesy of his father’s position in Galactic government.

It wasn’t as though Yorrick didn’t admireGeneral Kenobi as much as his best friend did Skywalker – it was just thatYorrick thought it best to express said admiration in quietly collecting Kenobimemorabilia and keeping up with the holonet news on the Open Circle fleet,instead. He may have sent a fewletters here and there, but he had never received a reply, nor had he expectedone. General Kenobi had a war to fight.

Meron, on the other hand, loved nothingmore than to recount for the billionth time the moment where his heroacknowledged him.

“–I didn’t think he’d actually salute back, you know, since my father and I were so farback from the parade line and there was so much noise going on–”

“I know, Meron,” Yorrick said, a faintsmile curving his lips despite himself as he watched his friend’s face light upat the memory. “He saw you, and he returned your salute. Congratulations. I alsoseem to recall you telling me that you forgot to lower your hand until basicallyall of the 501st had passed by.”

Face flaming red, Meron punched himgood-naturedly on the shoulder. “I’ll convince you Anakin’s better even if it’sthe last thing I do,” he mumbled.

“That’ll take some convincing, “ Yorrickgrinned. “But go on. I dare you.”

“I’m going home in a week. I’ll have youconvinced before then.”

“I’m sure the Alderaani Royal Academy willbe very happy to take you off ourhands,” Yorrick said, dryly.

That earned him another punch.

But Meron’s next words wereuncharacteristically quiet. “My father said you could visit in the winter. Youwill, won’t you?”

A pause.

“That’ll depend on my father,” Yorrick said, earnestly, “but I’ll fight both him and the RCA for it.”

Meron scoffed. “The Republic CoruscantiAcademy’s filled with spoilt brats with their noses in the air.”

“And what does that make us?” Yorrickpointed out. “Alderaani Royal isn’t that much better.”

“Spoilt brats with our noses completelylevel.”

“Oh, shut up,” Yorrick said, smiling.

Meron waved goodbye a week later, nothaving convinced Yorrick in the slightest but glad to call it a ceasefire. “Maythe Force be with you!” they yelled at each other, as was their custom. It madethem sound cool, like the Jedi Generals they loved so much. Meron as Anakin,and Yorrick as Obi-Wan – brothers in all but blood.

The Siege of Coruscant began a monthafterwards.

And another week after that, Yorrick’sworld fell apart with a single announcement from the newly instated Emperor.

Red-eyed and sleep-deprived, Yorrick wentto school two days later to find that it had been renamed the Royal ImperialAcademy overnight, and that there was a new uniform waiting for him, grey andhigh-collared and stamped with the Imperial crest over the left breast,claiming his heart.

He came home in his new uniform, enduredhis parents’ proud fawning over how dashing it made him look, and stood in hisroom alone staring at the Open Circle posters still plastered over the walls,the imitation lightsaber in its brackets reverently hung over his desk, therows of real flimsi books on Jedi and Republic history, and the packet ofStewjon tea he had begged his father to order for him just last month sittingbefore them, still unopened.

He’d been taught how to hold a blaster forthe first time that day; the first lesson in a new mandatory courseacademy-wide.

The Emperor had said General Kenobi was atraitor, as was the rest of the Jedi. An Order now eliminated utterly andcompletely, in a heroic effort by the GAR that once served them.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead.

Yorrick crossed to the comm at his desk. Ithad been there, undisturbed, for two days now; the light blinking at its edgeshowed that there was at least one missed message there waiting for hisresponse, but only now did he sit at his desk and flick it open. 

>

Yorrick buried his face in his elbow for amoment, and sighed.

Then he keyed in his friend’s comm code.

The comm channel fizzed to life, andMeron’s voice issued from it, warped with static and yet clear as the day heleft over a month ago. 

“Blastit, Yorrick! It’s been two whole days–”

“I know,” Yorrick said, quietly. “Ijust…haven’t been feeling that good.”

A pause. 

“Iknow,” – and there was a telltale tremor in Meron’svoice not caused by static or interference – “I can’t believe it, either.”

Yorrick’s eyes prickled with tears – thefirst since he heard the news. “How…how could they betray us like this?”

“Right?I don’t know how Chancellor Palpatine could have done this!”

Now that caused Yorrick to sit up, and to stare at the comm in his hand.

“What…what are you talking about?” hewhispered.

“TheChancellor,” Meron said, with a note of confusionin his voice. “You don’t believethat…that drivel he said about the Jedi, do you?”

“Drivel?” Yorrick said, slowly. “That’s nota word you would use. I would, butnot you. Who’s been talking to you?” A feeling was building in his chest. A scream.

“That’snot the point,” Meron retorted, after a tellingpause. “You don’t seriously believe theJedi betrayed the Republic?”

“I…” Yorrick began, and faltered. “I don’tknow what to believe.”

“Yorrick,this is Anakin Skywalker,” – Meron’s voicequavered, and then steadied with determination – “and Obi-Wan Kenobi we’re talking about.”

Hearing the name set something off withinYorrick’s chest. Perhaps it had been there since two days ago, or longer, but he had read about the five stages of grief before, but for the moment, he waswell past denial and fully into anger.

“I know!” he yelled, and cared not that hisvoice cracked dangerously on the word. “What do you think I’ve been doing these two days? I’ve been thinking. That’sall I’ve been doing. I haven’t slept. I haven’t eaten. I went to school todayand everything’s the same but also different and we’re not allowed to talkabout the Jedi any more, and the teacher played this audio recording from theEmperor’s office that showed the Jedi trying to assassinate him,” – Meronyelped at this but Yorrick plowed on, relentless – “and then,” he shouted, asthe tears spilled over his cheeks and scalded invisible scars down to his chin,“I come back home, and I look at my walls, and I realise that I’ve got enoughillegal posters and things here to warrant my arrest. Do you understand me, Meron?!”

A long, long silence.

“I do,” Meron said, quietly. “But audiofiles can be edited, you know that. And you knew Obi-Wan Kenobi as well as Iknew Anakin Skywalker.”

Yorrick barked a bitter laugh through histears.

“Did I, really?” he murmured. “And didyou?”

“Yorrick–”

“The Chancellor was crying for help,”Yorrick was sobbing, now. “And General Windu just told him not to resist hisown murder. Treason. What am Isupposed to say to that?”

“TheJedi didn’t do this,” Meron said, helplessly. “I can’t tell you how I know. But I do.”

That did it. “You don’t know that because you’re not a blasted Jedi, Meron!”Yorrick shouted. “And neither am I! We never were, Meron, and be glad weweren’t, or we’d have betrayed the Republic and been executed like all thosetraitors deserved.”

Meron was silent for a long, ugly moment.

And then: “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Yorrick said, wiping his nose onthe pristine sleeve of his new uniform.

“Yorrick,I don’t want this.” Meron sounded far, far olderthan his years. “But I see I can’t convince you.”

“I don’t, either,” Yorrick said,straightening although he knew the other boy could not see it – reaching forhis uniform cap as though it would lend him strength. He placed it on his head,and felt steadier than he did a moment before. “But this is how it is.”

Meron’s breath was loud through the channelstatic. “Fine,” he said, and therewas such a wealth of control in that word that Yorrick felt for a moment ashamed.“We’ll talk later. May the F–”

Meron cut himself off with a sharp inhale.

Yorrick stared at the comm. The words oftheir familiar greeting and farewell echoed through him. He let them go.

“Goodbye, Meron,” he said instead.

“Goodbye,” Meron said, and as the comm channel collapsed, it caught thebeginnings of a sob.

Yorrick stood, and placed the comm back onhis desk.

And then he crossed to the nearest posteron the wall, grasped its edge with the sleek leather of his new uniform gloves,and tore it down, uncaring of how it split neatly in the middle, dividing theopen circle insignia upon it exactly in two – a rending that left a chasmbetween them.

Yorrick repeated the motion again andagain, broke the lightsaber on the wall over his knee, hurled the bag of teainto the growing pile of discarded objects and stared, narrow-eyed when itsplit open on the broken wing of a shattered Jedi Starbird.

His father, when he found out, praised himfor his initiative and helped him carry it all out to the trash compactor, asteady hand on his shoulder as they watched each box go in.

Time passed.

Meron’s comm number faded in his memories.

Yorrick redecorated his room in pale greyand black, opting for the bare minimum of decoration except the six-spoked-wheelof the Imperial Crest painted on one wall.

And then he focused on his studies to theexclusion of all else.

Utter conviction.

At fifteen, he was an Imperial Cadet. 

At eighteen, he accepted a commission fromthe Imperial Navy as an Ensign.

And at twenty-eight, he was a Commander. Ayoung one, at that, and his meteoric rise to that rank did not go unnoticed.

Being on the same ship as Darth Vader wasas terrifying as scuttlebutt told, but Yorrick employed good sense and stayedsilent unless he was called upon, whereupon he did every task assigned to himin as quiet and efficient a manner as possible.

He got quite good at ignoring the twist ofguilt in his gut.

And then, of course, came the Death Star.

Something stirred in the depths ofYorrick’s memory when he heard of the superweapon, of course. Somethingconnected to the mind of an eight-year-old child, who loved a hero for hisability to talk his way out of a conflict without a single drop of blood spilt;but by that point in time he had learnt to treat his Orders as though he were adroid and nothing else. It protected his neck, and by extension, his parents.

And so Yorrick was on the Death Star whenthe Princess Leia was brought in, and he was a shadow at the rear of the bridgewhen Tarkin gave the order to fire on Alderaan. 

Millions of voices, silenced in a matter ofmoments.

Meron’s family home, where he and Yorrickused to play hide-and-seek amongst the gardens.

Meron. 

The name chipped at the walls around hisheart, and threatened to unbalance him. 

Yorrick returned to his cabin and threw up.

And then he stood up, and carried on.

And then the call came in that there wereintruders on the station, and he ran to his post, well-heeled Imperial Navyboots clacking on the durasteel floors, and as he ran, a sound drifted towardshim; a familiar noise of plasma meeting plasma, the scream of kyber crystalsand Force-borne blades.

That sound used to signify hope – hope thatObi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker had won yet another campaign, the sound oftheir lightsabers a victory cry in war reel after war reel.

Yorrick rounded the corner to the hangar,and gaped as Vader’s lightsaber locked with that of the old man in anunmistakably Jedi cloak. 

“Kenobi!” Vader roared.

And with that single word, Yorrick’s world collapsedagain.

This Obi-Wan Kenobi was not theblade-dancing hero of his childhood memories; this man’s arms shook with theeffort of deflecting Vader’s powerful strikes, and his beard and hair werewhite where they once had been russet.

And yet- 

He was still every inch the Master;commander of a situation where there should have been no hope. Not for him.

A young, golden-haired boy darted into thehangar, closely followed by the princess, a man who had the look of ascoundrel, and a Wookiee.

Obi-Wan glanced at them, then back atVader, and his lips curved in the sly smile Yorrick remembered so well – thesmile that said you’re beaten, evenif nothing seemed to be working in his favour.

The smile of calm in the face of whatshould be an inescapable storm.

Yorrick had always understood it. Now itfelt utterly wrong that he should be on the other side of it; part of thatstorm, about to be destroyed by something he did not understand.

It felt horribly like guilt, and the denialof a truth that he had suppressed for too long.

Obi-Wan withdrew his lightsaber and raisedit in a salute, still smiling–

–Yorrick threw out a hand before he knew whathe was doing, mouth open in denial–

–andVader cut down Obi-Wan Kenobi.

But in the ringing emptiness of the momentsafter it happened, Yorrick’s shout lodged in his throat as he realised thatthere was no body.

Only a cloak. 

“No!” The boy with the golden hairscreamed. He drew his blaster and fired uselessly at Vader, even as hiscompanions yelled at him to join them on the ramp of battered transport.

They were only metres away.

Yorrick should probably have drawn hisweapon to stop them. He didn’t.

He turned, instead, as what seemed to be anentire battalion of stormtroopers raced past him; as he heard the firing of thetransport’s repulsors, over the lash of blaster-fire.

Yorrick found his way to the nearestseparate hangar, climbed into a shuttle with nothing on his person but hisuniform and his regulation blaster, and set off. It helped that in the chaos,he managed to get to hyperspace with only a few scanting brushes with the DeathStar’s turbolasers.

And then – when the star-studded expanse ofspace beyond the viewport morphed into the blue-white streaks of hyperspace –only then, did Yorrick allow himself to weep.

Months later – after a long circle of theOuter Rim and a delicate situation involving many repeated yellings of “Don’t shoot! I’m a defector! A defector!”Yorrick found himself, at last, on a Rebel base, having gone through a verygrueling interrogation courtesy of Crix Madine.

At least he’d proven his loyalty wasgenuine.

He asked around if anyone had heard of aMeron Junshi. It was the barest sliver of hope, but the last time they spokewhen they were both children Meron had seemed on a one-track road to theRebellion even if Yorrick had not known enough to suspect then.

“Junshi? That’s an Alderaani name,” onepilot said. “I think you’d be better off finding–”

“Junshi. Meron Junshi,” a clear, soft voicesaid behind him.

Yorrick turned, and his eyes widened.

Princess Leia smiled at him. “And as I keeptelling every new recruit, I don’t bite.” She led him to a quieter corner, andher face grew gently serious. “How did you know Meron?”

Did.

Past tense. 

He watched her watch him take the news. 

“He was by best friend,” he eventuallysaid, although it felt like a lie, now, after twenty years of silence. “He was a brother to me, and I–”

Her brown eyes softened further. “You’reYorrick. He spoke of you often.”

All the breath left Yorrick at once. Tearsstarted at the corners of his eyes. “I owed him an apology. Now I won’t have achance to say it.”

“I’m sorry,” Leia murmured. “He died on theTantive IV – my ship. He died protecting me and the plans I held for the DeathStar.”

In a way it made sense. Meron had spent somuch of his childhood in hero-worship of Anakin Skywalker that it was fittingthat he should die as a hero. Yorrick had loved him so much as a brother, likeObi-Wan did Anakin – but Obi-Wan had never spoken it out loud, either. Yorrickknew it with utter certainty.

How deluded Yorrick had been, to throw itall away on a lie.

Yorrick dashed away the tears. “We wereclosest during the Clone Wars. His role model was Anakin Skywalker. Mine wasObi-Wan Kenobi.”

Leia smiled at that. “As half theyounglings in the galaxy did, it would seem.”

Yorrick laughed. It was a weak, feeblething from too many years of disuse, but it would do.

Leia took his elbow in a soft grasp. “Ithink you should meet someone.”

Yorrick allowed her to lead him intoanother room, where the blond-haired young man whom Yorrick had also seen onthe Death Star was sat, tinkering with a pile of mechanical scraps.

“Yorrick Calder,” Leia said, “allow me tointroduce Luke Skywalker.”

Skywalker.

Luke extended a hand with a blinding smile– the same smile Yorrick recalled from the war-reels, two decades before. 

Yorrick shook Luke Skywalker’s hand, andfelt a weight lift off his chest as he did so.

And for the first time in twenty years, he was convinced that there was something to hope for.

END

This is a companion fic to A Face in the Crowd; read that if you want to hear Meron’s perspective.

This is also cross-posted to FFN.

My fanfic masterlist

FFN profile and stories

[theartofbeinganerd]

I am so pumped that you said you're writing a bunch this summer!! could you write fs slowly falling for each other, in whatever universe you like? thanks so much!!

Awww yay! I’m really excited about it too!! Thanks for the prompt! :D

Okay, I’m super late posting tonight because apparently, the words ‘slowly falling in love’ were a signal to my brain to write 5k words of Academy AU so um...oops??

(Ao3)

-

“Was there a particular station you wanted, or…?” Fitztrailed off, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably as he gestured towardthe pair of desks in the lab Agent Weaver had given them permission to use.

“Oh, um…” Jemma glanced at the two desks, but found nothingparticularly special about either of them. “No, you choose first.”

Fitz hesitated, then asked once more, “Are you sure? Becauseif you wanted a certain one –”

“It’s a desk,Fitz,” Jemma reminded him, a touch of fond exasperation in her tone, but shetried to tone down on the frustration she’d normally be feeling in thissituation – after all, it was only a week ago that Fitz had decided to stopcompeting with her and instead work withher. She still worried sometimes that if she said the wrong thing, it wouldcause his dislike of her to return with a vengeance, and Jemma wasn’t sure shecould handle that; Fitz was the only other student at SHIELD Academy that washer age, not to mention on her intellectual level, and none of the otherstudents had seemed too keen on befriending the seventeen-year-old prodigies.“Just go ahead and sit down at one, and I promise you that I won’t care whichit is.”

He studied her a moment longer, clearly gauging the honestyof her statement, then he nodded and plopped his backpack and stack of booksdown at the nearest desk, allowing Jemma to set her things down on the one oppositehis. They spent a few minutes getting things settled, but then as she wasshrugging into her lab coat, she turned to face Fitz.

“What do you want to do first?” she asked curiously,absently tying her hair up in a ponytail and tugging her safety goggles down ontoher face.

Fitz paused in the process of pulling on his own lab coat,then smiled a bit shyly and admitted, “Well, I’ve actually jotted down a coupleof ideas for projects.”

Jemma’s eyebrows rose in interest, and she walked around theside of their desks to stand beside Fitz at his. As he slowly pushed an opennotebook toward her, she noticed his cheeks turning a bit pink, and it had herlips quirking up at the corners. When he began to turn to her, however, shehastily dropped her eyes, scanning the list in his cramped, messy handwriting.

“Fitz,” shegasped, glancing up at him with wide eyes that were surely shining withdelight. “These are brilliant!”

“They are?” Fitz asked in pleasant surprise.

Jemma nodded, tapping the first item on the list. “Especiallythese drones – calibrated specially for forensics; it’s genius, really! I can’twait to get started.”

A grin spread across Fitz’s face, making his eyes light upin a way that Jemma hadn’t yet been witness to. He had a very nice smile, she decided; she was goingto do whatever she could to see it as often as possible. “Yeah, me too,” heagreed quickly, hurriedly pulling his safety goggles down over his eyes.

Over the next few hours, they worked tirelessly on figuringout a starting point and mapping out their plans for the drones, of which therewould be seven, and by the time they left the lab that night, Jemma wasabsolutely stunned. She’d known, ofcourse, that they’d get on if they’d just stop competing with one another, andthat he was likely the only one on the entire campus that would be able to keepup with her.

However, she hadn’t had a clue that they’d work so well together. In fact, the way theyautomatically seemed to be having the same thoughts in the same exact moments,allowing them to finish each other’s sentences, the harmonious way that theyworked together and around each other was something she’d never experiencedbefore.

It was then that Jemma knew, whatever it was she and Fitzhad, it was special.

-

“Alright, we’ve got blankets, popcorn, and plenty of othersnacks to tide you over; I think we’re all set,” Jemma listed as she set thebag she was carrying down. Darting a quick glance at her watch to check thetime, she began to spread the blankets out across the little section of theroof of her dorm they’d chosen as Fitz knelt down and began digging through herbag for said snacks.

“What did you bring?” he asked curiously, but Jemma slappedhis hand away, throwing him a reprimanding look as she sat down beside him.

“They’ve got to last you all night, and we just had dinner!You can have a snack in a little bit, alright?” Fitz frowned petulantly, butwordlessly complied (though not without a little huff as he crossed his armsover his chest). After the past month and a half of their friendship, she’dcome to realize rather quickly that, if allowed, Fitz would spend an entire dayjust absently snacking on whatever was available if left unchecked.

Fortunately, Jemma was alwayschecking.

“D’you think it’llstart soon?” Fitz asked, tilting his head back to squint up at the sky, wherethere would soon be meteors streaking past the stars.

Jemma checked the time again, then admitted, “Not foranother hour or so.”

He turned to her, gaping in disbelief. “Well then why did you insist on rushing up hereright after dinner? You barely allowed me the time to grab an extra jumper!”

“I wanted to make sure we were ready on time!” she defendedherself. “You can never be too early, only too late.”

Fitz grumbled under his breath, hunching in on himself a bitas he rolled his eyes. “Okay, so we’ve got an hour to the meteor shower, youwon’t let me have a snack; what are we supposed to do to pass the time?”

Jemma mulled over his admittedly very good question, butafter a moment she let out an excited gasp. “Oh! Do you see that there?” sheasked, pointing up above them.

He tilted his head back once more, peering up at the sky inconcentration. “What? You mean the Big Dipper?”

“Or Ursa Major, yes.” She folded her legs up against herbody, wrapping her arms around them. “Do you know the story of Ursa Major?”

Fitz thought a moment, pursing his lips, but then he shookhis head and admitted, “No, actually, I don’t think I do.”

A slow smile curved Jemma’s lips as she began reciting thestory her father had told her many years ago to Fitz, followed by the storiesof Perseus and Andromeda, Cassiopeia, and Orion. After awhile though, sheabruptly cut herself off, feeling her cool cheeks sting a bit as heat filledthem. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Wincing as she uncomfortably hooked her handsaround her neck, she told him, “You could’ve told me to stop at any time, Ididn’t mean to ramble on…”

“No!” Startled by Fitz’s sudden shout, Jemma whirled aroundto look at him, and found him staring at her with wide, worried eyes. “I’mlistening. I want to hear more, please?”

Somehow, Jemma’s blush only grew in intensity at his words,and she could feel the warmth spreading all the way down to her toes, even inthe chilly autumn night air. “Okay,” she said slowly, hesitating another momentbefore she went on, pointing out constellations to him and reciting theirstories.

It continued on long into the night, even as meteors burnedtrails across the sky above them, and Jemma had never felt more overwhelminglyas though she was safe being truly herself around another person before – itwas like she could be completely open and honest, and connect with Fitz in away she couldn’t even with her parents, no matter how much they’d always tried.

She didn’t quite know what it was about Fitz, but somehow,she was beginning to find that she couldn’t remember what her life had beenlike before he was it in, nor did she really want to remember.

-

“Oh quit beingsuch a child about this, Fitz!” Jemma groaned in exasperation, dropping herhead back against the headboard of his bed, where she sat beside him with herbiology text in her lap.

“I’m not being childish;I just don’t see why it’s necessary to take a class about something as gross asbiology when I’m engineering major!”Fitz cried defensively, making a face and pointedly looking away from thefull-color, detailed illustrations on the pages of the text.

“Look, I don’t make the rules, Fitz! All I’m trying to do ishelp you to pass the class, squeamishness or no.” Jemma heaved a tired sigh,tilting the book back to face Fitz. “Just…suck it up for a few hours every now andthen, take the tests, and then you’ll never have to deal with ‘gross biology’again.”

Fitz heaved a put-upon sigh, taking the book back from her,though his disgusted expression only grew in intensity as he laid eyes on thepictures once more. “Alright, fine, but I betternot have to, or I’m holding you personally responsible, Simmons.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Rolling her eyes, she beganattempting to break down the chapters they were being tested on the followingday to him once more, hopefully without interruption this time.

They spent the next couple of hours going back overeverything, and Jemma even went as far as to make flash cards, quizzing him onevery possible bit of information that may show up on the exam. By the time thesun was dipping low in the sky, causing shadows to creep along the floor of hisdorm room, they’d ended up stretched out side-by-side on his bed.

“Alright, what’s…” Jemma lifted her gaze as she raised thenext flashcard between them, but the remaining sunlight was hitting him justright and she couldn’t remember if he’d been that close this whole time and wow how had she never noticed how bluehis eyes were?

All of a sudden, the room felt at least ten degrees warmer,and Jemma’s stomach gave an odd little roll, making her feel as though she wasabout to throw up. Strange, shethought to herself, quickly dropping her gaze once more and taking deep, evenbreaths to try and calm her tumultuous stomach. Was she sick? Had she caught abug somewhere?

“Jemma?” Fitz prompted worriedly. “Are you alright?”

Her palms were clammy and her heart was racing and Jemma really didn’t want to vomit on her onlyfriend, so without meeting his searching gaze, she scrambled up from the bedand hastily collected her things. “I’m sorry Fitz, I have to go now. Lots ofum…things to do, and…all that, so…” With an awkward little wave, she left poor,confused Fitz alone in his room and rushed down the hall to the nearestbathroom.

However, almost as soon as she was alone, Jemma’s symptomsdisappeared almost as quickly as she had from Fitz’s room, as though they’dnever been there in the first place.

What was going onwith her?

-

“I’m not so sure about this, Simmons,” Fitz admitted,grimacing down at his feet, looking quite concerned.

“Nonsense, it’ll be fun once you get the hang of it,” Jemmapromised as she finished securing the rollerblades she’d rented from theskating rink not far from the Academy campus. She’d been meaning to take Fitzall year, but now that it was the final day before they both returned home forthe summer, she’d insisted on spending it teaching Fitz how to rollerblade.

Fitz inhaled, then released a deep breath before he noddedonce firmly. “Alright, I’m trusting you, then.” Using the table they weresitting at for help, he shakily got to his feet. Almost immediately, however,he began slipping on the wheels of his skates, and Jemma hurried to lend himsome support.

Together, they managed to get him actually out onto the floor, but for the firsthalf-hour he would only cling desperately to the bar along the wall. “See?You’re doing great,” Jemma encouraged as he made another pass around the rink.“Now, why don’t you try to next step and come away from the wall?”

Fitz shot a glance out at the others skating past them, theflashing lights and the pounding music, and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Jemma released a frustrated groan, gesturing widely to thegroup of elementary school children currently breezing past them. “Fitz! There are children who are bigger risk-takers than you! In order to develop askill, you actually have to put in some effort.”

“I am putting ineffort; it’s the effort not to fall flat on my ass like an idiot,” he repliedtightly, focusing on slowly inching his way forward with the help of the bar.

“C’mon Fitz, please?I promise you it’ll be fun, even if you’re falling flat on your ass – that’sjust something that comes hand-in-hand with learning to rollerblade.” When Fitzglanced up, she put on her best pout, clasping her hands together beneath herchin.

It was another moment before his expression collapsed and helet out a low groan. “Oh fine, youget your way, as always. But, if atany point I fall, you’re buying dinner.”

“Deal!” With that, Jemma grasped Fitz’s hand, helping him toslowly come away from the wall so that she could take his other as well,skating slowly backwards as she helped him forward. They only made it a shortdistance away before his feet began to stumble beneath him and he couldn’tregain his balance – and when he went down, he took Jemma with him.

For a beat, neither of them moved or said a word, simplylaid there in a tangle of aching limbs. Then, suddenly, Jemma couldn’t help thegiggles building up in her chest and tickling at her throat. It wasn’t longbefore Fitz had joined in, and it took a bit of time before they could gettheir laughter under control enough to struggle back to their feet.

The rest of the day ended up going much the same, with Fitzconsistently tripping and falling, almost always managing to take Jemmastraight down with him. She still held up her end of the bargain, though, andbought their dinner before they headed back to the campus.

Even though they were both sore beyond belief and werelikely to be absolutely covered in bruises within the next few days, Jemmacouldn’t remember a day where she’d laughed more since she was very young. And,as they were parting ways to return to their dorms for one more night, and Fitzwas playfully griping about his aching muscles, an overpowering warmth washedover Jemma, making her feel almost lightheaded. All of a sudden, she didn’t want to say goodbye to him; she wantedto stay with him and spend more time just laughing and having fun and being theteenager she’d never had the chance to be.

But, with a bit of effort, she managed to shake off thestrange feeling, said her goodnights to him, and returned to her dorm.

Unfortunately, saying goodbye to Fitz the next day for a wholesummer was, in fact, much harder than saying goodnight after the lovely daythey’d had together. As she got settled on her plane back home, Jemma had theoddest feeling that she’d forgotten something at the Academy, something important, like a limb or one of herorgans – but that couldn’t possibly be right.

The feeling only seemed to stronger the more the summermonths dragged on, until Jemma could barely concentrate on anything, and shecould see the worried looks herparents were constantly exchanging, but she had no idea what was wrong with her.

It was only once she’d returned to the Academy in the fall,and laid eyes on Fitz for the first time in months, all curly hair and pastyskin and blue eyes, that she felt she was complete again, that she couldfinally breathe without difficulty once more.

Jemma simply chalked it up to being back at the Academy, thefirst place she’d ever felt she truly belonged.

-

“Can you believe it? Perfect scores! Well, I mean, as ifthere was any doubt in my mind,” Jemma added, turning to throw a brilliant grinover her shoulder at Fitz. “And they say mid-terms are supposed to be challenging.”

“Well Simmons, they are for the normal folk, remember. Don’twanna get too high and mighty,” Fitz reminded her teasingly, and she pointedlyrolled her eyes at him.

“Oh hush, Fitz; as if the gathering of the most brilliantminds could possibly be called ‘normal folk’.” As she pushed open the door ofthe building and stepped out into the daylight, Jemma let out a surprised gasp.“Oh Fitz! It must’ve snowed while we were taking our exams!”

The whole campus was covered in a layer of fluffy whitesnow, sparkling in the mid-day sun. It was so fresh, it was even still clingingto the bare trees, painting a rather beautiful picture. “Oh, would you look atthat,” Fitz commented a bit disinterestedly. “Hey, you wanna go get lunch?”

“In a minute; first, I want to make snow angels,” Jemma saidabruptly, eyeing a patch of undisturbed snow not far away. When Fitz made adisbelieving noise, she turned to him and insisted, “It hasn’t snowed at allyet this year and we’ve had such goodday; please Fitz?”

He stayed firm for only another moment, then he heaved asigh of surrender, allowing Jemma to tug him down beside her into the freezingcold snow. It wasn’t long before they’d finished their respective snow angels,and as her limbs slowed to a stop, she turned her head to face him and teasedthrough her grin, “See Fitz, wasn’t that fun?”

Fitz didn’t respond at first, simply staring at her withwide eyes, blinking owlishly as though he was taken aback by something, thoughshe hadn’t the faintest clue what that could be. When she opened her mouth toprompt him once more, he cleared his throat and said simply, “Uh, yeah.”

Frowning, Jemma sat up and cautiously stood up and away fromher snow angel, holding out her hands to help a shivering Fitz up as well. Shesqueezed his hands with her own numb fingers, and concerned that he was actingstrange because she’d made him do something he hadn’t wanted to do, sheoffered, “For being such a good sport, I’ll buy you a hot chocolate.”

“You better,” he replied, but his voice sounded slightly offto her, and she frowned, glancing worriedly at him. But, then he gave her asmall smile and added, “And there had better be extra marshmellows,” and Jemmaquickly forgot about it completely.

-

“Fitz?”

Jemma waited a moment, but there was no response to herprompt.

“Fitz?” she triedagain, but once more, there was no response.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Jemma craned her head to glance atwhere Fitz’s weight was resting heavily against her side. Sure enough, he wasfast asleep, his head lolled to the side and lying right on her shoulder.

Of course.

Before they’d started their customary Friday night DoctorWho marathon, she’d made him promisethat he wasn’t going to fall asleep this time. She believed, actually, that hisexact words had been ‘I won’t fall asleep on you Simmons, I swear!’.

Unable to help herself, Jemma had to let out a soft snort atthe irony. Of course, she couldn’t really be too upset with him this time; he’dbeen keeping odd hours lately, up late into the night trying to complete hisfinal project for his engineering course, which was due in just a few weeks.

Jemma figured that she’d let it pass just this once, sincehe undoubtedly needed the sleep.

However, that didn’t solve the problem of how exactly shewas going to free herself without waking him up, so that she could return toher own room to get some much-needed sleep as well.

Carefully, she shifted until she could glance down at him,sleeping so soundly against her shoulder, even though it no doubt wasuncomfortable – he made it lookpretty darn comfortable, though.

Well, Jemma supposed, she could wait a little while longerand watch a couple more episodes, see if he ended up shifting away to find anew position on his own.

But, even though she was trying her level best to payattention to what was happening on the screen in front of her, Jemma keptfinding herself glancing down at Fitz (who hadn’t moved an inch, of course). Hejust looked so peaceful and innocent, and his adorable little snores keptbringing fond smiles to her lips. As she dropped her gaze once more, studyingthe way his eyelashes fanned out beneath his closed eyelids and the slight partof his lips as he released a quiet breath, Jemma felt her fingers shift againsther leg.

They twitched closer and closer to Fitz, and she had tofight the sudden, desperate urge to stroke them over his cheek and brush themthrough his hair. It was then, with a sudden burst of clarity, that Jemma knew that whatever it was she felt forFitz, it was far more than friendship.

-

The weeks following Jemma’s late night revelation weresimultaneously the best and worst of her life. It was absolutely freeing toknow, quite abruptly, that she had feelings for her best friend, to haveeverything that had never made much sense suddenly crystal clear to her. Sheunderstood now the strange, warm, almost tingly feeling that washed over herwhenever Fitz smiled at her, or she found herself getting lost in his beautifulblue eyes or he said something so utterly thoughtful and Fitz that she was caught off-guard by it.

But, it was also tortuousto be able to put a name to the depth of pure, unadulterated feeling inside ofher, to have it begin to grow and grow once she’d acknowledged its existence.Each day, she only seemed to fall deeper and deeper for Fitz, and she knew itwas nothing but trouble for her; after all, there was only one of two ways lifewould go after they graduated.

Either they would continue on as partners, as Agent Weaverhad told them was highly likely, due to their effortless ability to worktogether and create revolutionary projects, and she’d have to struggle with herfeelings in silence for many years to come; or, they’d be separated and sent todifferent SHIELD locations, and she’d never see Fitz again.

But, of course, no matter how much it hurt, Jemma wouldspend every single day for the rest of her life struggling to keep her feelingshidden and under control – as long as she had Fitz in her life. Even if itwasn’t exactly ideal for her, sheknew that any situation that kept them together was one she wanted to be in.

It wasn’t until the day of graduation, actually, that AgentWeaver pulled them aside, and finally informed them that they were beingassigned to a Sci-Ops facility – together,as partners.

Consumed by relief as she was, Jemma barely noticed as AgentWeaver left them to prepare for the ceremony. She turned to Fitz, giving him awide, breathless smile. “Oh Fitz, this is wonderful.I was so worried!” She wasn’t going to have to live without Fitz, and dealing withhiding her feelings for him truly was a small price to pay for such a gift.

“Yeah, me too,” Fitz admitted, giving her a smile in return,though it was rather dim in comparison to hers. “Look, Jemma, I…I told myselfthat I’d be honest with you if we ended up being assigned together.”

Jemma frowned at the rare use of her first name; somethingwas very wrong with Fitz. “What isit?” she asked in concern, reaching out to place a comforting hand on hisshoulder. “Fitz, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

He released a harsh breath, nodding. “I know, I know. I’mjust…I’m scared that it’s going to ruin our friendship or change things, andyou know I don’t do well with change.”

For a brief moment, Jemma had the sudden, horrifying thoughtthat he’d somehow figured out how she felt about him, that he was about to tellher that he didn’t feel the same and he was worried that the rejection wouldruin their friendship. “Fitz, nothingyou could say would ever hurt our friendship, alright? I promise you that.”

The promise seemed to calm him just enough, and he took asteadying breath, then stumbled out the confession, “Lately I’ve been… I don’tknow where… I didn’t mean for…it’sjust that you…and I… What I mean is…” Obviously seeing Jemma’s bewilderedexpression, he rolled his eyes at himself and finally just blurted out, “I’m inlove with you, Jemma. And you don’t have to say anything, I just –”

That was as far as he got before Jemma surged forward towrap her arms around his neck, finding his lips with hers as they met in themiddle. She felt more than heard the startled noise he let out against hermouth, but within moments his fumbling hands had found her waist to pull hercloser, and she couldn’t even begin to stop the ridiculous smile currentlytugging at her lips.

Eventually, they were both smiling so much that they had topull away from the kiss, and Jemma found Fitz watching her in the same awe thatshe knew must’ve been written in her own eyes. “I had no idea you felt this waytoo,” she admitted, absently sliding her fingers through his hair and strokingthe back of his neck; now that she was allowed to touch him freely, she wasn’tsure she’d ever be able to stop. “How long have you…?”

“I’m not really sure how long,” Fitz admitted, giving alittle shrug and blushing lightly. “But I realized it the day of our mid-terms,when you made me lay down in a snow pileand make a bloody snow angel.”

“Really?” Jemmaasked in utter disbelief. Nothing about that moment stood out to her as overly romantic– though, now that she thought about it, she could remember his strangebehavior immediately following said event.

“Yeah.” He gave her a shy little smile, idly tracing theshape of her waist and the curve of her spine with his fingertips as he explained,“You had turned to smile at me, with snowflakes clinging to your hair and yourcheeks all rosy and it just took my breath away and I well…I dunno, I just knewthat I’d do anything to make you smile like that.”

Jemma bit her lip to hold back on the giddy little grin thatwas currently trying to break across her face. “Oh,” she said simply.

“And…um…what about you?” he asked, seeming a bituncomfortable as he dropped his gaze from hers. “Was it just now, or…are younot really sure…?”

“Oh no, I’m sure,” she promised, leaning in to rest herforehead against his so that she could find his gaze with hers once more; she refusedto let him think for even a moment that she didn’t truly feel the same. “It wasa couple of weeks ago, during that Doctor Who marathon; you know, when youpromised not to fall asleep.” He smiled a bit sheepishly at the reminder. “You,of course, did end up falling asleep,only it was right on my shoulder and I just…couldn’t seem to look away – youwere adorable, of course – and I wanted to sit there all night long watchingyou sleep and it just…became clear, I suppose.”

“Because I fell asleepon you?” Fitz asked incredulously. “That’s it?”

“Well you realized it because I smiled at you!” Jemma reminded him indignantly.

He made a face, then gave her waist a little squeeze. “Ohalright, I suppose they’re both rather simple. But the important thing is, theyhappened, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “and now I get to do this.” She tiltedher head, closing her eyes as her lips found his once more and her armstightened around his neck. As he gave a surprised moan, she deepened the kiss,burying her fingers in his hair to keep him right where she wanted him.

It was a long, wonderfully dizzying moment before theyparted this time, and Fitz had to blink a couple of times to focus as hemurmured, “A very important benefit, yes.”

Just then, Jemma heard a call of, “Fitzsimmons!” and sheleaned back from Fitz to find one of their classmates a ways away, waving atthem. “Ceremony’s about to start!”

“We’ll be right there!” Jemma called, but as she turned backto Fitz, something of great importance suddenly occurred to her. Urgently, shetold him, “Fitz, we have to promise that no matter what happens, we won’t letSHIELD split us up – Section Seventeen be damned.”

“Of course,” he promised immediately, his grip on her hipstightening just slightly. “We’re better together, and SHIELD knows that. Ifthey’re as smart as they claim to be, they won’t split us up over something assimple as…y’know…being in love.”

Jemma released a shaky breath, nodding in agreement.“Right.” Still, she tugged Fitz back into her embrace, burying her face in hisshoulder and soaking up his warm, breathing in his familiar scent. “Becausethat’s where we belong; together.”

“Always,” Fitz agreed softly, the words whispered againsther temple as he placed a kiss there.

Jemma knew then that, no matter where life took them fromthere, whether it was with SHIELD or otherwise, she and Fitz would be togetherthrough it all. Together truly was where they belonged –even when they hadn’tbe able to see it for what it was, together was where they’d always belonged.