The Warrior of Light on her way to pick up babes

Creatures of Gallinia — Part One

This post will be a semi-complete list of the various creatures you can meet within the world of Gallinia. From the enchanting Rasoer that fly within the North-Eastern Gallinia sky to the darkly territorial Fire Wyrms of the South Western Volcanic fields.

Aeyragon

The Aeyragon are a small dragon species that can be found in a variety of places within Gallinia. They namely travel in herds— usually referred to as thunders— for the sake of safety. They’re inquisitive beasts that will approach a humanoid species if they feel like said person isn’t a threat. This allowed for an old fable that the ones chosen to see the aeyragon were pure of heart.

Their diet mainly consists of berries, insects, and small amphibians.

Fire Wyrms

The sole reason that traveling the region around Mount Torpar is so dangerous. Fire Wyrms are a species of drake that have skin as molten as the lava that they live within. A single touch to their blistering scales could sear the skin right off of someone’s hand. Added to the fact that Fire Wyrms are horrendously territorial and aggressive, it’s best to avoid them at all costs.

If one were to be brave— or stupid— enough to venture into the caverns within Mount Torpar, you’ll be met with the sight of hundreds of tunnels cutting through miles of solid stone. For the Fire Wyrms bite can tear through rock and stone like it was simply paper. All must beware when trespassing on their territory…

Their diet consists of mainly meat, but they have been known to consume lava rocks if nothing is readily available to them.

Ice Wyrms

Like their distant cousins, Ice Wyrms are extremely territorial and aggressive. Unlike their fiery relatives, however, Ice Wyrms have a scaly hide that’s freezing to the touch. As if winter itself had been encapsulated within their bodies.

Their bite is even more powerful than the Fire Wyrms; simply because of their razor sharp teeth. Teeth that have been likened to diamonds for their unwillingness to break.

Fortunately, Ice Wyrms try to avoid most creatures if they can help it. As long as you stay away from their territory then you should be fine traversing the wintery wastes that they inhabit. Just make sure you’re aware of the signs of their presence, because they’ll definitely be aware of yours.

Their diet mainly consists of fish and various cervine species that inhabit the North.

Rasoer

The Rasoer are a large avian species that inhabits the north east portion of Gallinia. They’re usually around the size of a standard harpy eagle, but they can get much bigger.

Rasoer are commonly set a part from their avian brethren because of their sharp, intelligent eyes. They’re the overseers of the avian world and that’s how they’ll like to stay; their sharp claws and beak help them achieve such a feat. Despite their size, the Rasoer move gracefully within the air; almost as silent as an owl and as fast as a falcon.

Their diet mainly consists of rodents, small game, and fish.

Vaursela

The Vaursela— also known as griffins— have a wide range within Gallinia and the bordering countries. They’re mainly solitary creatures— rarely leaving their domains— but every year, at the peak of the winter solstice, vast waves of Vaursela plague the Gallinian Sky in order to reach the Floating Isles of the Avariel; the birthplace of their species.

Specifics morphs within the Vaursela range from tigers to snow leopards. Not much is known about the Vaursela, but they’ll mainly leave you alone if you leave them alone. Just don’t encroach on their hatching grounds.

Their diet mainly consists of various meats that inhabit their specific domains.

Leviathans

Colossal aquatic life within the Hasmere Sea.

Peirra, Tarsines, Ynerra, Lurrenth, and Sialrion are the Great Leviathans within the Hasmere Sea; with Lesser Leviathans falling within their domain. They’re not known to attack humans, or the aquatic Kriarcean, but they have been known to cause tsunamis when threatened and/or they’re in a bad mood. The Great Leviathans are seen as Gods within the aquatic world; namely to the Kriarcean.

They’re to be revered and respected. To not do so would be the greatest offense.

Their diet mainly consists of Lesser Leviathans, various aquatic marine and plant life.

hc’s about falling in love with your childhood best friend.

masterlist.

warnings: swearing ig?? it’s fluffy, mainly. i tried to make it fairly gender neutral in terms of the reader. 

notes: hi uh these were supposed to be for the dekusquad but they ended up being SO much longer than i originally intended so i cut down on the characters ;-; i struggled with bakugou’s but his ended up being the longest??? idk man, hope you guys like it <3 these are seriously just drabbles in disguise

izuku midoriya

you met at an author meetup at the local bookstore. the book was a biography about all might, ofc you were bound to meet

you were in front of him in line and he shyly complimented you on the all might t-shirt you had worn

you two basically spent the entire time talking to each other about your favourite pro heroes as you waited in line

by the time you got to the front, you were so engrossed in your own conversations that both inko and your mom figured it would just be better to take you two home for a playdate instead 

since you were friends with midoriya, that meant bakugou was also in your little circle 

you stood up to him a couple times and always checked up on midoriya after kacchan’s tiny tantrums 

midoriya appreciated that, and you two were practically inseparable 

bakugou always accused you two of teaming up against him 

you would simply link arms with midoriya, tilt your chin up high and say that you were a full package deal. two peas in a pod. two halves of a whole, always 

midoriya’s face seemed to be permanently red that entire day 

you two were pretty dedicated in school, with you wanting to persue your top picks for high school. that meant that there were lots of study dates between you two 

during those study dates, midoriya couldn’t help if his gaze lingered on you just a bit more than his notes about quirk laws 

he realized he was in love with you when you had stayed after school to look for the notebook kacchan had burnt 

“you don’t have to do this, y/n. i can find it on my own… i don’t want to make to make you stay any longer.” 

“don’t say that, izuku. i don’t mind. besides, we always stick together and we will even after you get into ua!” 

“a- after i get in?” he spoke in a disbelief. everyone had doubted him, everyone had told him that he needed a quirk in order to get in but not you

you stayed. you supported him. you believed in him. 

he grabbed your hand on instinct, startling you. “i- i-” he began stuttering, eyes darting about as the feelings he hadn’t realized resurfaced

“thank you.” 

you gave him a gentle smile, chest feeling light as your hand encased in midoriya’s squeezed his own comfortingly 

“full package deal, remember?” 

he nodded, his smile jittery and shy. you giggled, blush dancing on your cheeks as you went on your next rant about how kamui woods could totally beat mount lady in a fight 

midoriya gripped the straps of his backpack, chest feeling light and his head feeling dizzy with all the new thoughts of you flooding his mind

oh yeah, he was definitely in love with you

shouto todoroki

you were his neighbour 

well, more accurately, your grandparents were his neighbours and you visited often 

your grandparents made you get the mail in the mornings and sometimes you would see him outside in the front yard with his mother. you would wave to him, and he would give a timid wave back after some encouragement from his mother 

you would play outside with your grandfather, flying your tiny kite and playing catch with him 

until you noticed there was a boy lingering near the fence separating the both of your houses 

he was watching the relationship you had with your grandfather curiously, almost as if there were a bit of envy in his eyes 

being the kind child that you were, you went over to him and passed the small ball between the rungs of the fence to him 

shouto was hesitant, but eventually took the ball from your inviting grip and tossed it back and forth between his hands testingly

this began a little game between you two 

he would toss the ball over the fence, and you would throw it back over to him

you didn’t quite understand why he couldn’t come on the other side of the fence to visit properly, but that was okay

you two would spend hours by the fence, sitting and talking you would give him tiny daisy chains made from the flowers in your grandma’s garden 

he wouldn’t tell you, but he kept each one you gave him on his windowsill 

he would compliment you a lot, too

not that he knew what that meant, he was simply stating facts to you 

“i like your hair. it’s very pretty.” 

“you’re very strong. you throw over the ball like it’s nothing.” 

“you want to become a hero? i think you would be the best one.” 

“your smile makes me want to smile, too.”

all of his words make your heart do somersaults

sometimes when you’re sitting with your backs to the fence, leaning up against each other, you feel the heat of his left hand ghosting your fingers. you don’t know why that made you feel shy, but it did

one day before you were supposed to go back home to your parents’ house, you went to go say goodbye to shouto 

he was sitting there normally, but his head was hung low so you couldn’t quite see his face 

as you approached him, you noticed that there was a bandage covering his left eye 

“sho?” 

he said nothing as you sat down 

“mom says i have to go now,” you tell him. he says nothing, again 

“um… are you okay?” 

an indiscernible noise comes from the small boy. you press your face right up against the one barrier separating you two. he looks up to see you worried. you didn’t like seeing him so upset

then an idea came to you

“before i go.. let me kiss it better.” 

shouto looked at you in bewilderment

“you’re not… afraid?” 

“no, why?” you asked in a confused manner, yet shouto remained hesitant 

“come here, please,” you asked of him, “before mom catches me kissing a boy.” 

pink dusting over his cheeks, he slowly crawled his way over to where you still kept your face against the fence. your gentle lips met the fabric of his bandage. the scent of something burnt catching in your nose as you did 

“you’ll come back?” shouto asked quietly. you nodded, promising him 

he nodded back in understanding, the tiniest of smiles appearing across his features 

“i’ll be waiting.”

katsuki bakugou

you had been in the same class since kindergarten, meaning that you knew him before he had his quirk 

even so, you thought he was pretty cool 

the reason for that? well, you weren’t exactly the most well liked kid in school. children were ruthless, and there was always a bottom of every social ladder between preschoolers

you got teased a lot. they pulled your hair, made fun of the way you cried, poked fun at the shoes and shirts you wore despite them being your favourite ones 

you were different. they didn’t like that 

the world seemed completely against you

during a colouring activity, the box of crayons you were holding was smacked out of your hands. your bottom lip quivered as the same boy taunted you to no end about how clumsy you were 

you simply bent over to pick them up before hearing another voice call out 

“oi, picking on small fries like that is lame.” 

looking to your left stood katsuki bakugou, looking bored and disinterested in helping you out. but your bully stopped in his tracks. being called lame?? by the great tiny katsuki bakugou?? 

no one had ever stood up for you like that 

even though he didn’t help you pick up your crayons, it felt like you had some type of ally in this class

slowly, you connected two and two together 

if you stayed around bakugou, no one could pick on you anymore! so you glued yourself to him practically every day 

at first, he found it annoying, but after seeing that you admired him up close, he liked the attention that feuled his ego, so he kept you around 

because you followed him around so much, you picked up a lot of things from him. he taught you how to defend yourself, and you taught him that some extras didn’t deserve as much attention as he was giving him. it was better to walk away sometimes

you ate lunch together, he came over to your house to play heroes and villains, he even showed you his secret all might poster collection. you were his person to talk to

he even had a katsuki bakugou™ nickname for you: small fry 

you two were quite the duo. bakugou went from simply tolerating you, to gradually beginning to care for you being around

and as you grew up with him, he caught himself beginning to admire the strong, gorgeous person you had become all on your own. it seemed he had developed a bit more than just a simple friendship bond with you

did he ever tell you that? fuck no 

you knew bakugou had always been rather… brash 

but you absolutely drew the line in the sand when he wouldn’t stop picking on midoriya for being quirkless. that one day where you walked into that classroom to meet bakugou and his group of friends only to see bakugou telling some green haired kid to jump off the building because he would never make it into ua without a quirk. he was different

bakugou turned to leave and he saw you standing in the doorway with a bit of an angry, hurt expression on his face

“small fry, thought you were never gonna show up.” 

“... lame.”

“hah? what did you say?” 

“i said it’s lame picking on small fries like that just because they’re different,” you spat at him. his eyes stayed fixated on you as you walked past him, helping the smaller boy off the floor and asking if he was okay 

normally, if it were anyone else, bakugou wouldn’t care. at all

but it was you

 you were different 

and all he did was act like he didn’t care. why? he didn’t know. but what he said to you that day came out rash and hurtful. you two had your fights before, but this had struck a chord with you. no one deserved to be treated like how you were back in preschool. that hurt

he didn’t realize how much you meant to him until you stopped inviting him over, you stopped eating lunch with him, you stopped texting and that bothered him 

the one person who he wanted to admire him didn’t anymore 

so it was a surprise to you that he waited for you to be finished your club after school to talk 

“small fry, listen. oi! i said listen up!” you kept walking, but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist 

“what? what is it? what can you possibly say to make things better? how could you treat people like that?” 

“come back.” 

“what?” 

“i said, fuck- come back, y’know, eat lunch with all the extras again.” 

“no.” 

the frustration showed true on bakugou’s features. his cheeks were turning red, you figured from the anger he was feeling towards you yet his voice dropped 

“i didn’t mean that shit back there. i was angry. fuck, i.. you want me to apologize or some shit, right. heard you small fries like that.” he shifted uncomfortably, his clammy hand still holding your wrist in a firm grip, as if you would walk away from him any moment now 

“sorry, or whatever.” he mumbled out in the smallest voice you had ever heard bakugou speak in 

your heart stopped as he looked at you with such sincerity. you held his gaze, eyes locked on his before you shook your head

“i don’t forgive you for saying what you said and doing what you did, but i do trust you. and i know that you’re better than that. you’re not lame. but if you seriously do that again, i’m not giving you any more chances.” 

relief came flooding back to bakugou at your words, but his face fired up almost instantly as you moved your hand so that your fingers intertwined with his 

“now c’mon, the new all might special is airing tonight, if we hurry we can still make it to my house.” 

“don’t speak so fucking loud! ... damn small fry.”

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox

want to be on the taglist? see this post!

Blow Your Mind - Fred Weasley

Hello and welcome to another Fred Weasley fic!  This is inspired by Blow Your Mind by Dua Lipa.  Hope you enjoy!

Plot:  “enemies” to lovers trope (enemies in quotes because its more of a rivalry to lovers trope)

Word count: 2,208

In all honesty, you thought Fred Weasley was the most stubborn, annoying, and insufferable person you had ever met.  His cockiness, his blatant disrespect and disregard for rules, and his superior attitude drove you absolutely mad.  Ever since first year, when the two of you started fresh at Hogwarts, you couldn’t stand him.  From his initial prank on you, which was only a dung bomb released in the dormitory you shared with Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, his close friends, you could barely stand the mentioning of his name at times.  

Unfortunately, he was very much in your life.  Angelina and Alicia were your closest friends, and also good friend with him.  George Weasley was kind to you, typically only being an accomplice to Fred’s pranks on you, not the mastermind behind it all.  The relationship you had with Fred was rather complicated, as neither of you truly hated each other.  You weren’t exactly friends, either.  Rivals, at best.

You had thrown such a fit after his first prank that you soon became the target of his tricks then, as he found it so amusing when you were worked up. Over time, you began getting back at him.  It was rather elementary tricks you’d pull, like putting a bucket of creature droppings above his door, nabbing all his clothes from his dormitory, spare a too small sweater, and hanging them in the courtyards, or even sabotaging his pranks on others.  All through the years, you kept your revenge to yourself for the most part, and Fred was clueless as to who constantly tricked him in return, and typically pinned it on Lee or George, never suspecting you, as far as you were aware. 

During your fourth year, Fred began to prank you more than ever.  In fact, his pranks were getting more and more complex, earning the least bit of respect from you. One prank you’ll remember for the rest of your life was right after the Halloween feast.  You had stopped in the library for a moment, finishing up a final essay for the night.  Fred must have been following you, as when you finally left the library and headed towards the Gryffindor common room, you stepped on a tripwire, immediately making your blood run cold.  

Blue dye rained down from above you, coating your uniform, white shirt and all. You could hear Fred cackling from up the hall, but you were too busy wiping the dye from your face.  “Fred Weasley, I am going to end you!”  You took off down the hall after him, leaving a trail of dye down the corridor. 

For weeks after that, your hair remained a brilliant shade of blue, not fading until almost Christmastime.

Just a week or so later, Fred found his bed sheets, pillows, and blankets all strung up in the Astronomy Tower, flying in the wind like a flag for all of the students to see.  You could recall his fury as he blamed Peeves for this prank.

During your fifth year, you decided to step it up a notch after Fred’s constant pranks.  He had began creating his own prank devices, so his work was rather sporadic and creative than years prior.   

One morning, as you sat with Angelina and Alicia in the Great Hall, your fingers drummed against the table as you were lost in your thoughts.  There were thousands of possibilities flying around your mind as to what you could do to embarrass Fred in front of the entire school, but one particular idea stood out to you.  A small smirk formed on your lips as you settled on your plot.  

After a few moments, there was a small jab in your side, bringing you back to your friends.  “What’s that look for?”  Angelina asked hesitantly as she looked at you skeptically. 

You looked up, fighting the smirk that was forming on your lips.  “Oh, nothing.  Just thinking about the upcoming match,” you mumbled in response as you reached forward for a muffin from the large plate.  “Can’t wait to see what’s in store.”  Just as your hand reached the muffins, the entire plate jumped and the muffins exploded, sending bits of muffin all over your robes, your face, and in your hair.   A gasp left your lips as you flinched back.  Immediately, your voice roared through the Great Hall as the other students began to laugh.  “FRED!” 

Angelina and Alicia had bits of muffin on them, but nothing like the crust that covered you in your entirety.  A groan came from you as you wiped at your face.  “About time she quieted down.  I don’t know how the two of you can listen to (Y/N)’s mouth all of the time,” a smug voice spoke from in front of you.  Your eyes wandered up, spotting the red headed devil standing in front of you, across the table, with his arms crossed over his chest.  He was lucky he was out of your reach, or else you might of strangled him at that moment.  

The laughing in the Great Hall wouldn’t subside.  You, however, fought back the tears forming in your eyes.  “If you don’t like the way I talk, why am I on your mind then, Fred?  You’re always playing tricks on me, so you must like the way I say your name,” you replied cooly as you stood and brushed off your robes, but it was no use.  “Just wait until you see what’s coming.” 

“I’m so scared,” Fred taunted you as you stormed away from the table.  “Pathetic she won’t even fight back.”  His voice loomed in your ears as you shoved through the hall with your head held high, ignoring the other laughing students.

 ~.~

“I know that look,” Hermione said to you as you stood in the stands, your arms over your chest and a smirk remaining on your lips.  There was an unsure look on her face that only made you all the more proud of your work that was soon going to be shown.  “Harry said you borrowed his cloak last night.” 

You laughed gently, pushing your Gryffindor scarf over your shoulder.  “I did.  Was up half the night, actually,” you confirmed to her as Madam Hooch stepped out on the field, the wind about blowing her broom from her hand. The crowd cheered at the sight of her.  “Rather windy today, isn’t it?”  Your voice was smug as you smiled into the wind.

Hermione let out a soft breath and held a nervous look on her face.  The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teams stepped out on the field, forming a circle before mounting their brooms.  The students roared at the teams, but you remained silent, your eyes on a single player.  “Watch Fred,” you instructed Hermione as you leaned your hands on the railing in front of you, a haughty look on your face. 

Hermione did as she was told, as did Ron, who listened in on the conversation. “Since when do you pull pranks?”  Ron asked aloud, but your eyes watched Fred as he ascended from the ground.  

“Always,” you answered shortly as the wind whipped at his cloak.  Just before Madam Hooch started the game, you watched your hard work shine. 

The faux layer of Fred’s cloak broke loose, as you had only tacked it in place with three stitches, revealing large pink letters across the real crimson red material, spelling out “(Y/N) IS THE PRANK QUEEN” on the entirety of his cloak.  Each letter was hand stitched in place, accounting for your lack of sleep, and making it nearly impossible for the lettering to come off in the wind.  The crowd erupted in laughter, the Gryffindor team joining in, at least those who could spot the words across the ginger’s back.

Madam Hooch started the game regardless of the distraction, and Fred realized the crowd was howling at him.  A confused look formed on his face as he glanced around, trying to figure out why, and after a quick visit from his twin brother on his broom, Fred twisted to spot the bit of pink writing he could see on his own back.  His eyes shot the crowd, spotting you in just a moment.  You had expected him to be furious, but there was an amused and incredibly happy look on his face.  You gave Fred a contentious wave and wink, earning a quick head shake from him before he took off, joining in the game.

Despite the distraction of Fred’s mainly pink cloak, Gryffindor won the match and a party ensued in the common room.  With a drink in your hand, you leaned against one of the desks and chatted quietly with a fourth year, who was praising you for your prank.  As the team entered the room, your smile turned to a smirk as the fourth year ran off to greet them all.

You remained back, allowing all the other students to greet the players, and waited for Fred to find you, because you were sure you were going to get an ear full. 

After about twenty minutes, the team dispersed into the crowd, finally able to break free from the congratulating.  You watched as Fred spotted you, a smirk coming onto his face.  You moved to sit on the desk, your feet swinging above the ground with a prideful smile on your lips.  “Well, do a spin for me!  Let me see my work,” you instructed him once he was close enough to hear you.  With your finger, you did a spinning motion, only making his smirk grow.  

Regardless of the hard feelings you shared in the past, Fred turned, allowing you to see your work on him.  “Prank Queen?” he asked incredulously as you giggled, covering your mouth and he turned to face you.  “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do before you earn that title, you know.”

You mocked being offended.  “What?  My years of pranking you means nothing?” 

Fred looked confused at your words.  His smirk faded as he came to terms with what you meant.  “You mean to tell me it was you?  The buckets, the bedding, the clothes, all of it?” 

Proudly, you nodded.  “Those and every unsolved prank in between,” you confirmed as you crossed your arms over your chest.  “I suppose I’m not so pathetic after all, am I?” 

For a moment, Fred was at a loss for words.  It wasn’t often that he got like this, but for this moment, looking at the person he hurt and tormented for the last four years, he couldn’t find the words to properly express how he was feeling.  “You’re bloody brilliant,” he finally stammered out, his face red at his own words. “I knew it!” 

A gentle blush formed on your face.  “Well, the games have only begun, Weasley,” you teased him as you reached forward, taking the edge of his cloak. “Listen, if you leave me with this for the night, I’ll remove the stitches and get the lettering off,” you told him and ran your finger along the Q in ‘QUEEN’.  

You released his cloak, looking up at Fred.  “I think I’ll keep it on, actually.  I’ve got a spare one I can wear for games,” he explained with a crooked smile.  

You laughed, shaking your head at him and swinging your legs once more.  “Whatever you say, Fred.”  You rolled your eyes and sipped your drink as he leaned against the desk next to you.  

“You were right, you know.”  Fred’s words lingered in the air, making you tilt your head to the side in confusion.  “I could listen to you say my name all day,” he murmured low enough for you to be the only to hear his words. 

His voice rumbled in your head as your face grew warm.  You held the cup to your lips to hide the smug smile on your lips.  “Are you coming on to me, Fred?”  Your own voice was low and sultry, and you waited his eyebrows raise. 

“Is it working?” 

For a split second, you weighed your options in your head.  Before you could process much of your own thought process, your words fell from your lips, “Rather well, actually.” 

Fred smiled, taking your chin in his hand and turning your face so that you had to look at him.  His large, calloused hand caressed your cheek as he caught your lips in a kiss.

From across the room, George leaned against the wall with his arm around Angelina, watching his twin kiss her dorm mate.  “Do you think she finally told him that it was her pranking him all these years?” 

George chuckled, pressing his lips to the side of Angelina’s head.  “He was starting to catch on, anyways,” George admitted with a faint smile.  “The last one, where she took all his cloaks and hung them on the suits of armor, they came back spelling of her perfume.”

Angelina snickered quietly.  “I’ve got to admit, that was my doing.  While (Y/N) had all his cloaks in our dorm, I sprayed a few of them in hopes that he would catch on.”

George raised his eyebrows, impressed with his girlfriend.  “Well, it was only a matter of time before they got together.”

-

durmstrange’s Taglist:  @starlightweasley​ @theweasleysredhair​ @whiz-bangs78​ @hufflepuffgirly​ @tonksichu​ @toomanybandstocare​​ @mentally-in-northern-italy​​ @alwaysasadaesthetic​​ @through-the-little-door​ @clandestinecherry​

Weasley Twins Taglist: @wand3ringr0s3​ @kpopgirlbtssvt​

quidditch mishap - draco malfoy

Request: I saw your request were open so if I could can I please request a Draco x reader where he teaches her how to play quidditch? The reader gets the hang of it and when they are flying on their brooms she falls off. And Draco takes care of her.

Pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

Summary: When Draco teaches Y/N how to play quidditch, conflict ensues.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: none

A/N: ty for requesting, hope you like it! and THANK YOU FOR 300 FOLLOWERS GUYS ILYSM

(not my gif)

“Draco, this is a bad idea,” you laughed as you walked side-by-side with your boyfriend to the quidditch pitch.

Draco rolled his eyes at your apprehensiveness. “And how exactly is this a bad idea?”

“I don’t know, I just—I have a feeling,” you shrugged.

“Darling, stop being such a pessimist,” he said as he subconsciously placed a hand on your back. “I’m a great teacher, by the way. What have you got to worry about?”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, electing to ignore snapping back with a retort that was at the tip of your tongue.

Draco slung an arm around your shoulder and kissed your cheek as you finally made it to the pitch. “Loosen up, love. It’ll be fun.”

“Whatever.”

“You know, you’re cute when you’re stubborn,” Draco said with a smile as you both mounted your brooms.

You felt your cheeks heat up a bit and you couldn’t hold back the smile that crept onto your lips. Draco’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. He had always loved your smile and whenever he got the chance to see it, he relished in every second of it. He loved seeing the crinkle of your eyes paired with the smile lines on the sides of your lips.

He’d truly never seen anyone as beautiful as you.

“What’re you starting at?” You teased with a smirk as you flew above him in the air. “C’mon, you slug!”

Draco laughed and shook his head before flying up into the air next to you. He tried to show off by flying in a loop, before briefly flying back over to you with a smug, arrogant smile draped across his pretty face.

“Impressive,” you said sarcastically between laughs.

“It was wasn’t it?” He joked before bringing his lips to yours, the both of you giggling into the kiss.

You furrowed your brows as he suddenly pulled away. He flew a few feet away from you, smiling with his eyebrows raised in a teasing manner as he shrugged, “Game rules, love. No kissing on the field.”

You narrowed your eyes, juxtaposing the light-hearted laughs that escaped your lips. “You’re really an arse, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Now, come on. I’m gonna teach you the basics first.”

After about half an hour of practicing—which had been interrupted numerous times whenever Draco felt the need to randomly kiss you on the cheek—you had finally started to understand quidditch. He taught you the rules and told you about each position; chaser, seeker, beater, and keeper. He had also taught you some broom tricks that you had rather easily gotten the hang of. Of course, they weren’t exactly advanced tricks, but they were still pretty cool. At least, to you, they were.

But you were ambitious and a little overconfident, so you wanted to learn more impressive tricks.

“I want to try something,” you said as you flew a few feet higher.

Draco subtly grimaced with worry. “Oh, boy.”

Before Draco could stop you, you attempted to do the loop trick that he showed you earlier. But as you started to go upside down, your hands slipped from your broom and before you knew it, you were falling from over fifty feet in the air.

Draco immediately panicked, and—as fast as he could—he started flying to you so he could catch you before you hit the ground. Thankfully, he did. But as you fell into his arms, you were unconscious. Draco assumed you had passed out in mid-air.

He was eternally grateful that he had just managed to break the fall. He didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened to you if he didn’t.

Slightly hyperventilating from fear of whether or not you were alright, Draco carried you bridal style and rushed to the hospital wing.

“It’s alright, darling,” he whispered, despite the fact that you were unconscious. “You’re going to be just fine.”

He had eventually made it to the hospital wing. He barged through the doors, alarming Madam Pomfrey.

“Help,” Draco said, his voice slightly trembling. “Please.”

“Bring her over here,” said Pomfrey, watching as Draco carefully laid you down on the bed. “What happened?”

Draco ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Uh—um, s-she fell off her broom. I-I managed to catch her before she hit the ground.”

After Madam Pomfrey examined you for a few minutes, she turned to look at Draco, “Not to worry, dear. She’ll be alright. The fall knocked her out, but she’s got no other injuries. She’ll be back up and walking in a few hours, at most.”

Draco let out a deep breath of relief and sent a grateful nod to Madam Pomfrey, too shaken up to speak. He heard her walk away as he took the seat by the side of your bed. He grabbed your hand, and all of his initial distress fled his body as he admired your relaxed facial features.

Nearly three hours had passed before you finally woke up. The last thing you remembered was Draco’s panicked eyes as your hands slipped off of your broom, and you cringed, feeling a rush of embarrassment at the thought of falling off your broom.

But you suddenly grew confused as you felt a weight on your right hand, and you looked to see Draco’s head resting on your connected hands. His head was turned away from you, and you smiled lightly as you assumed he was sleeping.

“Draco,” you whispered, jumping slightly as he jolted awake at the sound of your voice. He rubbed his eyes tiredly before smiling big as he saw you were awake.

“Hi,” he said in a slightly raspy voice, his face brimful of happiness and relief. “How are you feeling?”

“Just a bit tired,” you replied. “You?”

“Don’t worry about me, darling,” he chuckled, his thumb rubbing your hand. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

You hummed quietly and smiled when an idea suddenly popped into your head. You made grabby hands at Draco and he grinned, immediately knowing what you wanted.

He climbed into the small bed with you. You adjusted your body so your head was laying on his chest, his arms wrapping around your torso. You smiled in gratification as his fingers caressed up and down your arm. You buried your face in his neck and placed butterfly kisses to the sensitive skin, listening intently to the sound of his contented sighs.

“You’re an idiot, you know,” Draco muttered, eyes fluttering as you kissed his jawline.

You smiled into his neck. “I know.”

sore loser ~pt. 1~ (george weasley x narrator)

Description: Enemies to lovers (kinda). A Slytherin seeker has a minor bragging problem and manages to just get under every single cell of skin George has. After the biggest game of the year George decides he’s had enough. 

Note: I am aware Umbridge banned Harry and the twins from quidditch and Draco is typically the seeker but we are going to ignore her and injure him for the sake of fiction.

Also, I am sure the narrator will piss a lot of people off, however I like her attitude a lot. She definitely receives the back lash for being a Slytherin, but is never the instigator. She just knows how to end any confrontation. I gave the boys a bit of a temper. Since the narrator is a Slytherin, I though I could use some of that prejudice to fuel some of the “hatred” between characters.

Disclaimer: Cursing, gambling, and a lot of words. She’s a long one.

I am sat in the Great Hall with the rest of the Slytherin table listening to them go on and on about other students and how much of a “spoiled prick” Harry is. That of course is according to the one and only “my father will hear about this” Draco Malfoy. I can’t help but find myself staring at the Gryffindor table. Fred and George are enchanting pieces of napkins to throw themselves at Hermione’s head, while Harry and Ron try to hide their chuckles. Even Neville is whispering about it to Seamus and giggling. 

“Are you ready for the match tomorrow?” I can feel Draco’s eyes on me along with everyone at the table.

“I’m ready to see those Gryffindor’s cry if that is what you are implying, Malfoy!” I know he is trying to make me feel less for not actually playing, but I am much better at the whole trash talking and intimidation to care about his remarks. “I don’t mind watching if it means my father doesn’t have to force the school to let me play,” I send him an unnerving smirk, which was not in my benefit.

“Even if you could afford it, you still wouldn’t even qualify,”

“Perhaps we will never know, since your father already paid for your position and I don’t see myself winning a large sum any time soon,” I begin to pack my stuff up for the end of breakfast and pull out one of Draco’s hairs on the way out. It always makes me laugh when he yelps and jumps like this is not an established routine. 

As I walk to my first class I feel a push from the back and I manage to catch my books before they sail across the corridor. I can hear Fred’s laugh followed by a sarcastic “oops” from George. Both of them stand likely about fifteen centimetres taller than me, but that has never stopped our aggressive encounters. 

“Even with two of you, half a reasonable thought still cannot be managed!” They boys just laugh at my outburst. Pricks.

“Princess still has that stick up her arse, huh Fred?” George’s back hand taps on his brother’s forearm. 

“I can’t wait to shove a stick up yours tomorrow at the match!” I snap back at them.

“Or maybe we can do you a favor and shove one of ours up yours,” Fred’s laughter fills the corridor at George’s comment as they both turn and walk past me. After a few metres George’s head looks over his shoulder and leaves me with a long stare followed by a smirk. I can’t explain why the subtle action sends chills through my spine and heat to my cheeks. 

When George turns back to his brother I can hear their faint whispering about placing bets on the match. Gambling in favor of themselves, I’m sure. I continue my way to class, at least DADA with the Gryffindors will actually be an interesting aspect of my day. 

Throughout class I manage to keep my head down to avoid any attention from Umbridge. Harry can be the victim of her chaos as long as it avoids my direction. On my way out of class a younger redhead jumps in front of me with a smug look.

“You know George made a bet saying that you won’t ever get to use your broom in a game and Fred countered it with if you do, he gives you twenty minutes top before you lose it for Slytherin.”

“Merlin, Ron. You sure know how to open your mouth despite the fact everyone wishes it would just stay shut.” I brush past him making sure that the contact was hard enough to ensure he stumbles. If I knew why everyone seems to hate me, I am sure I could piss them off even more. After treading to the sixth floor for Study of Ancient Ruins, I witness two tall statures pushing each other around in what seems to be a minor argument. 

“Tweedledee and Tweedledum, I heard you have wagers against me,” the two Weasleys stop their interactions and turn to face me. “I am flattered the two of you spend your free time thinking about me. However, I much rather be included the next time there is value on my name.”

“Princess, you would not want to be present every time we mention your name." Fred is the first to respond.

“Your tiara would fall with your ego,” George follows as if rehearsed. He holds my eye contact while Fred lets out a laugh. There is an intimidating fire in George’s eyes.

“It’d be worth any diadem to see your empty pockets every time you bet against me.” I turn on my heels and make my way into the classroom. 

Ancient Ruins is not exactly an exhilarating class, but it tends to be much less problematic compared to any course with Malfoy and Potter in it. Studying can be quite peaceful when those around you are not waiting to watch the other boil.

I was able to spend the rest of my day avoiding any other confrontations besides witnessing any comments made in passing by a Weasley or any of Malfoy’s followers. At dinner I sit in my usual spot between the fifth years, like myself, and the fourth years. As long as I stay at the end, I don’t have to worry about remarks made my way. The fifth years are talking about the upcoming match which I enjoy listening to. I can hear Malfoy talking about how Gryffindor’s team is full of lazy bastards who just work impulsively out of their “bravery” and how we will win easily. 

His comments do make me laugh a bit, but I attempt not to show it. Draco is right though, we are much more systematic and can win. Even if certain players on our team choose not to cheat.

“I can’t wait to get Potter to fly straight into the grass and pull worms out of his nose. It’ll be a nice reminder of where he came from, dirt.” Malfoy is still in the midst of his Potter tangent when I can sense a heavy stare on me. As I look up I can see the Gryffindor table full of chatter, I assume it is much like ours, but only one student is staring right at me. 

George’s eyes connect with mine, and I can feel a huge force on my body. Usually, I am one to just hold the stare back, but there is something about this moment that makes me switch my focus towards my dinner plate. Another odd moment with George today, brilliant. 

The rest of the meal I manage small talk with Daphne Greengrass. She is much more bearable compared to the other Slytherins in our year. Not once has she made a comment about me being a half-blood or even being the second string seeker. 

Instead of following most of the Slytherin house back to the common room I make my way to the library to complete some work before the match. I manage to locate a quiet corner in the back to complete my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. As soon as I open my book I hear footsteps walk by and stop right at the aisle I am working at. 

“If I were to guess, your boggart is probably actually having to mount a broom for a match,” the voice belongs to my favorite redheaded twin. His comment only results in an eye roll from me.

“And if I were to guess, your boggart is having to come up with your own thought for once in your life. ‘Is quite a shame to see you can only be a replica of your brother, and not just physically.” Clearly, I strike a nerve because George takes two long strides and slams my book shut and bends down so our faces were only centimetres apart. The loud thud from the books startles my breathing. 

“I. Am. My. Own. Person.” The fire in his eyes is back once again.

“You’re right. However, for some reason when it comes to me you’re the instigator. You become the one with the jokes and the loose temper when I’m around. Funny seeing how you’re suppose to be the good one.” I hold myself as still as I can despite wanting to push him away and retreat to a quiet aisle. 

“You pretend to be one of them despite having impure blood. Your existence in that house is the purest form of irony.” A cackle leaves me after that.

“Oh my Merlin, you think I’m a purist. You probably think I have the dark mark too!” I cannot control my laughter at this point. George takes a step back a bit shocked, clearly not expecting me to talk so lightly of the mark. “Keep to what you’re good at, gambling.”

A small smile appears on George as I continue to erupt in laughter. What an idiot. Me, a purist.  What a leap to assume. “Fine, princess, let’s gamble,” his smile quickly turns into a devious smirk, resulting in my laughs sobering up.

“Fine. Five galleons, that if I play tomorrow you will lose.” A confused look appears on his face, knowing that the odds of me playing are very low. “I don’t cheat either. If someone cannot play, I am next in. So I will take my chances.”

“If you lose or do not even play, I win.” George’s notorious smirk emerges onto his face. I only nod my head. The odds are not in my favor, but at least I have the chance to earn some respect. 

“When I win, I will be looking for you and my money.” I stand up from my seat to gain some leverage over him, only for him to stand up straight and return to his naturally towering height. 

“Oh, I look forward to seeing you after the match. With my money.” 

Outlast: Revisited [Chapter Four: Waylon]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game; eye gore

Waylon hopped out of the vent into a tiny, mostly bare room. A Variant sat in the corner, hugging his legs with his face buried in his knees. A metal storage crate barricaded the door. 

“You mind if I move this?” Waylon asked quietly. 

The man shook his head. 

Waylon swallowed and braced himself against the crate. His weak muscles trembled and strained as he pushed. Holding back a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut. When it was finally out of the way he shook his hands out and sighed. 

Poking his head into the hall, he bit his lip. It was empty, the walls covered in plastic, emergency lights still blasting. The rest of the lights had gone out. There were several dead bodies littering the hall, blood smeared on the plastic. One body was completely ripped in half, torso from legs, guts spilling into the floor. 

He snuck into a security room and shut the door behind him. Through the window to a decontamination chamber, a man in scrubs pressed his hands to the glass. 

“Help me, please!” He cried. “I’m a doctor! I need to get home to my…” His eyes widened. He spluttered for a second, then said, “You’re not security. I was… I’m a patient,” he said carefully. 

Waylon stepped closer, brows furrowed. 

“I stole these clothes from a… dead body I found. You gotta let me out of here. Please. Just push the button, open the door. We can get out of here together!” 

Waylon hesitated. He wished he’d recognized the man—if it were really a doctor, he’d leave him to rot, but he couldn’t risk hurting a patient, could he? Fuck. He slammed his hand on the button. 

The doors slid open, and a Variant with a grimace and a red face stepped inside. The doctor/patient gasped and stepped back. 

“No, no!” 

“All of you,” the Variant snarled, grabbing the back of the doctor/patient’s head and slamming it into the glass. Waylon stepped backwards with wide eyes, “doctors and liars.” 

He slammed the man’s head into the glass, over and over and over and over again, thunk, thunk, crack, thunk, blood spurted everywhere. Slipping out of its socket, the eye was crushed against the glass. Blood dripped from his mouth and nose and eyes. Crack! Thin lines stained the glass like a halo. 

Waylon felt sick. Gagging, he backed up until he was pressed against the door. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

The Variant thanked him, then left. 

He’d never seen a man die before today. Never seen a dead body outside of a coffin. Dozens in the last few hours, murdered and worse. The look in the Variant’s eyes, the raw anger, as he crushed the man’s skull… There was no real difference between the doctors and patients now. They were all crazy, all sick. 

And what was Waylon? He watched a man die and only thought, it’s not me, thank God. 

He knew he’d die someday. He didn’t want to be murdered. 

Waylon stumbled out of the room and made his way to the airlock. It sprayed him with that awful-smelling green gas, then let him through. The corpse watched him as he left. He crept through to the closest exit he knew of, but it was jammed and blocked. Dead Variants littered the ground. 

A file caught his eye. He picked it up with shaking hands. 

 From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Resignation for Mental Health, CC 8208 

Ms. Grant, 

 You may receive requests for information from a Mrs. Lisa Park, of Leadville, CO, in the coming weeks concerning the resignation and hospitalization of her husband, Waylon. If so, please forward them to my personal attention. 

 Waylon’s stomach lurched. Lisa? Oh, God… 

 Waylon Park (former consulting contract 8208) resigned due to previously undiagnosed mental illness. I personally visited Mrs. Lisa Park and her sons and broke the news to them, with the “silver lining” that Murkoff Psychiatric would be graciously providing treatment. 

 Mrs. Park had some less than charitable things to say about myself and the Murkoff corporation. I assured her that with her power of attorney she could try to fight the doctors’ diagnoses of her husband’s illness. 

 However, if it were discovered that he resigned under false pretenses, his insurance would be cancelled and the family would be saddled with not insignificant healthcare debts. 

 The paper crunched in Waylon’s fist. 

 Hopefully she understood. 

But if she insists on making a nuisance of herself, or tries to get around me, please let me know. This is one I want to take care of personally. 

 Yours, 

Jeremy Blaire

 Waylon shoved the paper in his pocket. Please say she let it go. Please let her be okay. 

 Blaire’s voice echoed in his head. 

“Somehow not smart enough to realize that the last thing a fly ought to do in a spider’s web is wiggle.” The laptop cracked on the ground as Blaire dropped it. “Somehow dumb enough to think that a borrowed laptop, onion router, and firewall patch would be enough to fool the world’s leading supplier of biometric security.” He tapped his forehead. “Stupid, Mr. Park. More than stupid. In fact, that was crazy!” A sick grin spread across his face. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to have you committed. Mr. Park, will you willfully submit to forced confinement?” He glanced over his shoulder at the three armed security guards that followed him. “Did you hear that, agent?” 

Waylon’s heart slammed against his chest, his fingertips. The fear burned hot in his abdomen, sweat gathering on his brow. 

“He said ‘yes,’ Mr. Blaire.” 

“Great!” Blaire waved his finger. “Oh, and… did I just hear Mr. Waylon Park volunteer for the Morphogenic Engine program?” 

“That’s what I heard, Mr. Blaire.” 

“That was brave, indeed, Waylon. The Murkoff Corporation and the onward march of science both appreciate your bravery… and sacrifice. Maybe you should administer Mr. Park here a light anesthetic?” 

“Gladly.” The front guard stepped forward and wound his arm back. 

Waylon raised his hands. Blinding pain rippled across his face, and his eyes rolled back into his head. 

Waylon ground his teeth together so hard something cracked. He would get back to Lisa and the boys if he had to tear through the entire asylum. 

The next airlock was broken, so he climbed atop a stack of crates covered in a blue tarp and dragged himself on top. Army crawling across, he jumped to the ground. It was pitch black in the hall. He raised his camcorder and flicked on the nightvision. 

He found himself in the cafeteria. Body parts were strewn across like decorations. Someone hummed and mumbled nearby. Bodies hung from the freezer’s ceiling like cured pigs. Flesh teared in the cafeteria, munching. Hands shaking, he crept into the kitchen. 

Waylon gagged. Blood boiled on the stove like someone was making fucking spaghetti, an arm and a hand poking out of the bubbling warmth. He entered the dining area, and behind the glass of the bar, blood splattered across the copious amount already caked on. Around the corner, then he zoomed in to look through the glass at the naked, bearded man sawing into a corpse. 

Keeping his camera up, Waylon’s eyes watered. He stepped forward. 

POP!

The microwave beeped and the head inside exploded. 

“Oh, God,” Waylon choked out. 

“Don’t you look at us,” the man snapped. “I love him.” He pulled out an organ and dropped it into his mouth. 

He chewed with his lips open, blood spurting, tissue tearing. Waylon stumbled back and hurried out of the room. He doubled over and gagged, choked, trying to vomit but nothing coming up. 

Sitting on the ground, he set the camera down facing him. “Don’t ask to see my body, Lisa,” he choked out. “When I die, when you finish the lawsuits that let you pry this footage from Murkoff’s army of lawyers and corporate hitmen, don’t make them show you my body. Just bury it. Or burn it. Let my sons remember me whole.” He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut. “That man is eating human flesh,” he whispered. “He looks at me and I see anger. A little desire. But more than anything, hunger. Please don’t make them show you my body.” 

He grabbed the camera. He didn’t plan on dying, but he would not risk not warning Lisa. 

He passed through a locker room and into a hallway, towards a grated door. A corpse hung by the wrist to set of handcuffs, looped through the grate, holding it closed. He had to get through there to get to the prison, get to the radio. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, yanking at the handcuffs. He’d have to find the key. There had to be a security guard around here somewhere. 

Across from the grate was a boarded up door. The glass above it was broken. He climbed atop the desk resting there and pulled himself through the broken window, hissing as glass cut across his thighs. 

Keeping an eye out for the key, he crept down the hall. Bzzzz! 

Waylon dropped to the floor as the cook came into the hall. His eyes glowed in the infrared, slowly surveying every inch of the blackness. There was that desire in his eyes, that hunger. Waylon kept the camcorder up and swallowed, his skin crawling. Out of all the people in Mount Massive, he did not want to be in the hands of the cook. 

He thought about turning around and finding an alternate way to the prison, but it would take too much time. He’d just have to be careful, quiet. He crept forward. The hall went forward and then to the left, with a room to the right. As the cook disappeared into the room to the right, Waylon hurried forward, still low to the ground. His eyes were on the corner. If he could just get around the corner, maybe he wouldn’t be seen. 

His foot crinkled on a sheet of plastic hanging off the wall. He froze. 

“I can smell you!” 

Shuddering, Waylon crept further into the darkness. 

“Feed me! Feed me! FEED ME!” 

The saw buzzed, bzzz! 

Just keep moving, Waylon. 

He crawled forward in the hall and turned the corner. The man was still busy in the room to the right. In the turn of the hall, the walls were lined with wooden doors. He crept into the first one just long enough to catch his breath. It was bare with just a stack of mattresses on a metal bedframe, no key in sight. He stood up halfway and peeked open the door. 

The hall was empty. He swung the door open and snuck out. 

“MINE! You are mine!” 

The voice was right behind him. He broke into a sprint, just in time for the buzzsaw to catch the hairs on the back of his neck. 

“Fuck!” He gasped, skidding to a stop at the blocked end of the hall and slamming his fist into the door as he barged inside. 

He ran straight across the hall to the next door, barging through that one as well, leading him into a room full of storage shelves and crosses on the wall. A dead end. He looked around wildly, a place to hide, a place to escape. 

“Feed me! Feed me! FEED ME!” 

Waylon whipped around. The cook grinned, blood glinting on his teeth, white in the night vision. He swung the buzzsaw and Waylon leapt backwards. Tripping over his own feet, his back smacked against the ground. The saw came over the cook’s head, and Waylon rolled out of the way, only for burning pain to rip through his leg. 

“FUCK!” He staggered to his feet and felt frantically at the blood dripping down his calf. 

Another swing, Waylon brought his hand up, a slash down his palm. He whimpered and stumbled backwards. 

Then he saw it—an open vent sat above a desk. He ducked another blow and dashed for the vent. His collar caught and he choked, his eyes watering. The cook dragged him backwards and threw him into a shelf. His chest and knee and elbow slammed into the corners. Wheezing, he made another break for the vent. He shoved past the cook and leapt onto the desk as all the lights flicked on. 

The buzzsaw caught the bottom of his foot as he dragged himself into the vent. He curled into a ball and hissed through his teeth. His blood smelled of iron, it was all he could smell, all he could think. He sat up as best as he could, cramped in the little square space, and looked for a seam to rip with his teeth. The cook grunted and cursed as he tried to get into the vent, only to turn and leave the room. 

“I’ll find another way…”

Waylon found a seam in his pants and ripped off what fabric he could. It wasn’t even or clean, but it was long enough for him to wrap around his calf and tie tight enough to hurt. He ripped off another piece for his foot, and another for his hand. 

He was shaking when he dropped to the ground. His foot burning, he bit back a whimper. 

A Variant stood in the corner. He was dressed, thank God, but bandages wrapped around his eyes. 

Waylon held his hands up as the Variant stalked towards him. “Hey, hey… What’s going on, man?” 

“I have an itch.” 

He cringed. “I can’t help with that. Want me to get those bandages off?” 

The Variant shook his head. What could be behind the fabric? 

Waylon swallowed. “Your clothes… you come from upstairs?” He wasn’t wearing the standard jumpsuit the Morphogenic volunteers wore. His clothes came from the Male Ward. 

“Yes.” 

“So you can get around safely, you know how to not get caught?” 

The Variant hesitated, then continued forward. Waylon stepped back. “I can move around.” 

“I need you to find someone for me. Can you do that? I can switch out your bandage for something cleaner.” 

“...okay.”

“There should be an investigative journalist running around here somewhere—”

“Miles Upshur.” 

Waylon blinked. “Y… yeah. How’d you- how’d you know?” 

“He’s been… talking to everyone. Trying to. In the abandoned sections. Headed to the basement, last I saw. Why do you need him?” 

“Find him,” Waylon begged, “tell him Waylon Park, the whistleblower, is headed to the prison. I’m going to get help.”

He stopped walking. “You’re the whistleblower?” 

“Yes,” Waylon said uncertainly. 

“I’ll find him for you.” 

Waylon found a seam in his shirt sleeve and ripped it free. He carefully pulled the bandages away from the Variant’s face. In the sockets, the eyes were completely eviscerated, nothing but bloody pulp. Waylon felt like gouging his own eyes out with a spoon. He bit back a gag and pulled the new bandage around his eyes. 

“Get those clean,” he mumbled, then patted his shoulder. “I need to go.” 

Waylon was back towards the labs, plastic lining the glass walls and laptop carts clogging up the halls. He wasn’t sure if the handcuff key would be around here, but he was just grateful to be away from the cook. 

He looked around for a tense couple of minutes, stepping quietly and keeping an ear out for any buzzing, before he finally found a bathroom with a dead security guard. He snatched the key from the man’s belt and sighed in relief. 

All he had to do now was get back. 

He found his way back to the main hall and stuck his head out the door. The cook grumbled to himself, peeking inside a room, saw buzzing beside him. Waylon swallowed and crouched. He crept into the hall and around the corner. 

If he comes this way, I’m fucked. But the barred door he originally jumped over was in sight. The cook was not agile, couldn’t follow him. It was Waylon’s only strength here. 

He cursed himself, then broke into a sprint. 

“MINE!” 

His feet slapped the floor as the cook raced behind him. Vaulting over a turned over bed and leaping onto a desk, he scrambled up through the window again, the broken glass making more cuts across his thighs. 

Waylon stumbled to the ground. His vision blurred, his head hot. Panic? Blood loss? Both? Whatever. He got the key. 

Unlocking the handcuffs, the corpse’s arm slipped out and thunked to the ground. With shaking hands, Waylon pulled the handcuffs out of the lock and swung the grate open. 

It led into the crematorium. He headed down a short staircase and crept into the room. His heart was still racing, his legs still equipped to run. Something banged on the nearby door as he passed the ovens. He nearly jumped out of his skin. 

Backing up, he watched the door shake again, then stop. He hesitated. 

I have to go this way. 

He watched his steps, stepping over broken glass and litter. The second he passed the door slammed open. The cook grabbed him by the neck and threw him onto his back. Waylon wheezed and kicked, the wind knocked out of him. The cook hauled him onto a wooden slab and raised the buzzsaw. 

“This meat is mine,” he cackled. 

He brought the buzzsaw to his chest, slowly inching forward until red splattered. Waylon threw his head back and screamed. Then the cook pulled the saw away. 

Grabbing Waylon by the legs, he shoved him backwards. The heat of the oven burned the back of Waylon’s head. 

“You stay there,” he grinned, “and cook!” 

Then he threw Waylon into the oven, and slammed the door. 

@wasnt-hiding-in-cuba-for-7-years asked for waylon torture porn so here’s me delivering the best i can this early in the story. more whump later, hope you enjoyed lol 

So Helluva Boss Episode five dropped and I decided to write. May continue this, who knows. Enjoy!(Reblog if ya enjoyed reading this! :D)

“The Harvest Moon Festival,” Skip read from his phone. “Is a festival that takes place in the circle of Wrath every year to celebrate the harvest with Prince Stolas cursing the locals with the glow of the true Harvest Moon.” Skip hummed.

“It’s a lot more than that, hon!” Millie grinned. “I can’t wait to introduce ya to my folks! They’re gonna love ya!....Maybe!...We’ll see!” Millie smiled.

Skip grimaced, pulling his legs to his chest, tail thumping against his seat anxiously. “Dad, do I have to go…?” Skip asked Blitzø anxiously.

“Now, Skip, this’ll be a fun experience for ya! You need to get out more anyway! Maybe you’ll make some new friends here!” Blitzø smiled.

Skip sighed. “Maybe even someone more than a friend~!” Blitzø winked.

“DAD!!!” Skip squeaked, discomfort evident.

“Kidding, kidding!” He chuckled.

Millie grinned excitedly as a sign came into view. “Rough and tumbleweed ranch.”. Skip chuckled to himself at the pun.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, if they made a pun like that, maybe he’d get along well with them.

...It took him all of five minutes to not feel comfortable around them. He didn’t voice this fact, that would be rude, but the mention of “An Imp is only worth a dime if he can tear the head off a beast” made him feel uncomfortable.

“Guys, come on, lighten up!” Millie smiled shakily.

“I-I can go…” Skip said shakily.

“Wait!” Millie called, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Ma, pa, meet Skip! He’s Blitzø’s adopted son!” Millie introduced.

“H-How d’ya do…?” Skip asked shakily.

“Hm. Doesn’t carry himself well.” Joe shrugged.

Skip internally cringed and curled into himself, internally screaming at himself to just run off, run away and never come back.

“I suppose y’all should meet our newest help.” Joe said. Skip tilted his head in confusion. “STRIKER!” He called, Skip jumping at the sudden volume increase.

Skip heard the sound of thundering hooves and...flames…? He immediately perked up, knowing what it was right off the bat. What he DIDN’T know, however, was the absolute SIZE of the beast.

He could only see up to around his belly without looking up. Then came a voice, Silky as high quality curtains and smooth as freshly melted butter.

“Howdy~!” He greeted.

Skip’s jaw hung loose as he took everything in.

“Is your, uh, friend okay?” Lyn asked.

“Hold on, I can check.” Millie said. “Skip? You alright, hon?” Millie asked.

The rider’s gaze drifted down to Skip. Skip now wished he could spin off into space, never to be seen again. He began nervously messing with his tail.

“Skip, huh? Nice name.” Striker smiled.

Skip processed everything for a moment, eventually snapping out of it. Oh Lucifer be merciful, he started accidentally infodumping about Hell Horses that he learned around when he was six-ish, since he took to teaching himself.

It took him about thirty minutes before he realized he was infodumping and he stopped, face heating up in embarrassment.

“Sorry, that was weird.” Skip coughed.

“Huh, never knew someone liked Hell Horses that much.” Striker chuckled.

Skip wringed his tail nervously. He internally screamed at himself. He’d embarrassed himself again, in front of everyone.

“I-I’ll go, uh...do...something away from here…” Skip trailed off, turning around.

“Shame, I was gonna see if ya wanted to pet him maybe.” Striker shrugged.

Skip’s heart skipped a beat. He’d embarrassed himself in front of everyone else, and yet he was being offered pets for a Hell Horse? “I-If you’re okay with it, s-sure!” Skip squeaked. Striker chuckled, gesturing for Skip to come closer.

Skip slowly walked over, freezing when he looked at him. “I...don’t think he likes me.” Skip gulped nervously.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Striker smiled.

“He looks like he wants to kill me.” Skip added.

“That means he likes ya!” Striker beamed. “He thinks you’re worth killing and hiding!” Striker joked.

Skip’s heart stopped. “Um...Good Horsey…?” Skip said, gently patting the tall animal.

Striker laughed. “That he is, Tiny!”

Skip slowly smiled. “He’s really soft…”

Skip’s tail slowly started swishing back and forth in happiness. “How did ya know all that about Hell Horses, Tiny?” Striker asked.

Skip froze, collecting himself quickly. “I had a, uh, Hell Horse G-I had a Hell Horse phase.” Skip corrected swiftly, smiling and hoping that Striker didn’t notice the slip-up.

Either he didn’t notice, or he did but just didn’t care. “Ah.” He nodded.

“Y’all should consider entering the pain games! It could be fun!” Lyn suggested. Skip perked up at the mention of games.

As they began to describe them, Skip lost interest and wandered off elsewhere.

(With Skip)

Skip wandered through the open fields, drifting off and spacing out and getting lost in his thoughts.

He thought over the events that had happened so far. He’d asked his dad if he could stay behind, but he ultimately got forced to go.

He embarrassed himself in front of everyone on multiple occasions.

But he met a Hell Horse, so that was good. He also met Striker. That was also good.

When Skip thought of Striker, he felt...Happy. He felt warm, fuzzy, happy, at peace, calm, almost in-he stopped himself. No. He wouldn’t let his dad be right. He refused. Even if Skip wanted to know what hugs from him felt like-no. Skip threw the thought away.

He wouldn’t.

He COULDN’T.

Love had hurt him so many times in the past, why would now be any different?

He eventually found a clearing and sat down, letting his thoughts settle.

He couldn’t let his dad be right...But why? Why was this such a bad thing?

Why did he let one bad experience dictate his view of such a widely celebrated thing?

Why did he find himself hating himself for allowing such good feelings into his heart?

Why did he not want this to be true? Why did he renounce such feelings? Why did he never want to be in a relationship ever again?

Why did he find himself so in lo-Why did he find himself so attached to Striker?

Why did he want to spend more time with Striker? Why did he want to know more about him?

Was it the Hell Horse? The thrill of finding someone else with his same interests? The potential for a new start?

The chance to find a Millie to his Moxxie? The chance to, Lucifer forbid, finally fall for someone in such a way that he would bare his soul to another party?

The fact that, despite having just met him, Skip would enjoy spending more time with Striker?

He had been so spaced out that he didn’t hear hoofsteps coming his way. “Got ‘nough room for one more?” Striker asked.

Skip nodded, still slightly spaced out.

Striker climbed down from his mount, sitting next to Skip. “Ya know, I didn’t find ya weird back there.” He sighed.

Skip snapped out of it as he realized who had sat next to him and his face heated up.

“Y’alright, Tiny?” Striker asked, half smiling at the smaller imp.

“Fi-ye-yeah, fine!” Skip chuckled shyly, wringing his tail again. “Um, uh….sorry for, uh, running away back there…” Skip apologized.

Striker scoffed, shrugging it off. “Your dad said ya have anxiety, so I don’t hold it against ya.” Striker shrugged.

Skip shuffled his feet nervously. “Still sorry, I, uh, unloaded a lot…” Skip stammered. As Skip spiralled, Striker rolled his eyes, giving the smaller imp a quick peck on the cheek, shutting him up immediately.

“Stop apologizing so dang much.” Striker smirked.

Skip’s face was now a bright crimson red and his brain was now basically tv static. Was this...what it was supposed to feel like?

Striker chuckled, leaning back. “You’re a great guy to be around, ya know?” He complimented.

Skip was now pure crimson and trying to hide in his hoodie. Lucifer, please come riding in a flying chariot pulled by flying pigs wearing togas made from clouds and take him away from this night-no, he couldn’t call it a nightmare. He...Enjoyed it.

“Thank you…~” Skip mumbled.

Striker put an arm across Skip’s shoulders. “Ain’t nothing, Tiny.” He smirked.

Skip stumbled for words, still caught off guard by the sign of affection from the farmhand. It was too good to be true. It HAD TO BE TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE.

His dad COULDN’T be right.

“Got anything ya wanna tell me, Tiny?” Striker asked, almost as if he could read Skip’s mind.

Skip stammered, struggling to find words to say. Skip’s heart froze as he was pulled closer to Striker. “I’m all ears, Pumpkin~” He hummed softly.

Skip struggled to find words, but was shut up as he was given another quick peck on the cheek. “You’re so easy to read, Tiny~!” Striker hummed.

“I...You...Uh….” Skip stammered.

“Sure ya don’t have anything to tell me, Tiny~?” Striker repeated.

“I….I just don’t wanna get hurt again.” Skip said nervously, breaking eye contact.

Striker hummed, tilting Skip’s chin up and making eye contact. “Come now, Tiny~! Would I ever hurtcha~?” Striker asked innocently.

Skip’s mouth flapped open and shut multiple times. He couldn’t think of any words. “I…” Skip trailed off.

Striker pulled the tiny imp into his lap, putting his head on top of Skip’s. Skip’s tail swished happily. “Called it.” Striker smiled.

“Huh?” Skip asked.

Striker smirked, rubbing Skip’s horns, earning a contented sigh from the smaller Imp. “You’re in love, huh?” Striker hummed.

“N-No!” Skip protested.

“Then why’s your face so red, Tiny~?” He hummed, sending chills down Skip’s spine.

“I...Um…” Skip stuttered.

Striker rubbed Skip on the back. “It’s okay to love people after a bad experience, ya know.”

Skip shook his head. “No. That’d mean Dad was right.” Skip objected.

Striker chuckled, Skip internally swooning at the sweet-as-honey sound. “Is that all that’s holdin’ ya back, Tiny~?”

Skip struggled to find words to say. He didn’t have to. Skip was stunned into silence as he was pulled into a kiss.

He was shocked at first, but relaxed after a few seconds.

Eventually, the two separated. “Like I said; easy~” Striker hummed. He eventually stood up, Skip following suit. “Come on, your dad’s probably worried sick.” Striker said.

Skip gulped nervously. “I-I….Don’t know how to get back...I kinda spaced out…” Skip winced.

Striker quirked an eyebrow, grabbing Skip by the sides and lifting him up.

“Huh?!” Skip squeaked in confusion.

“I’m takin’ ya with me.” Striker said, hopping on Bombproof with Skip.

“Just stay calm and you’ll be fine.” Striker instructed. Skip nodded. “Also, hold on.” Striker said.

“Wait, what-” Skip started, getting interrupted as Bombproof burst into a run, Skip barely holding on.

(With Blitzø and the others.)

“Has anyone seen Skip come back yet? I’m kinda worried about him.” Blitzø paced nervously.

“Don’t worry about it, Boss, I’m sure Skip is fine!” Millie assured.

The group’s attention was grabbed by thundering hoofsteps approaching them.

Striker came thundering into view riding Bombproof, Skip holding on tightly.

“Ya know how to halt a Hell Horse, Tiny?” Striker asked.

“Y-Yeah, kinda, but-” Skip started.

“Great! Time to test that knowledge!” Striker said, hopping off, leaving Skip in control.

Skip shrieked, quickly taking the reigns, struggling to stay on the Hell Horse, bouncing up and down at the speed he was going at.

“S-Slow down! Please!” Skip stammered.

“YOU’VE GOT THIS HONEY, JUST LIKE YOUR DADDY TAUGHT YA!!” Blitzø called happily.

“DAD!” Skip called, face heating up in embarrassment.

Skip eventually stopped Bombproof, falling off and landing on the ground. “I’ve never seen someone stop him like that. Nice job.” Striker winked.

Skip smiled shakily. Blitzø rushed over, picking up Skip in a hug and spinning around happily. “Ya did it! I’m so proud of you!” Blitzø grinned widely.

“Dad…?” Skip asked.

“Yeah?” Blitzø asked, smiling widely.

“How do you feel about me having a small crush on someone?”

“I’m sorry.” Blitzø started.

“WHAT?!?”

Looking back: Part 1 - Primaris Space Marines - Infantry

The excitement for 9th edition has been growing and growing. People are happy with the upcoming units for Space marines, and Xenos fans are rejoicing at the return of the Silent King and the introduction of new Necron units. 

What I want to do is take a long and hard look at what 8th edition gave us in terms of miniatures. 

To start of this series, we have to begin with Games Workshop’s favorite poster-boys; The Primaris Space Marines

The Primaris debacle:

If you didn’t already know, Games Workshop is somewhat obsessed with Space Marines. This hasn’t changed at all in 8th edition. In fact, it kind of got worse.

8th edition introduced us to the new and improved Primaris Space Marines - Extra cool Space Marines. 

For a lot of people, these were just a lame excuse to resell you an army that most of their costumers had already bought. Lore-wise, they came out of nowhere, and for some they were an affront to what the Imperium stood for: an autocratic, dogmatic and fascist regime that saw innovation and progress as something evil and dangerous. 

Fortunately, the Primaris have begun to become a little more fleshed out, and hopefully, this will continue for the better in 9th edition.

Before I start my overview, I have to explain my main gripe that I have with the ENTIRE range.

The Helmets:

With their redesign, the Space Marines gained a new pattern of Power Armour. This included a new design for their helmets, and I absolutely hate it. Gone is the iconic respirator, and instead we get a return of the Mark IV helmet, A.K.A. my least favorite pattern of the range. 

Kitbashers prove my point. The Mark VII is so much better looking on the new range. They look proper evil and merciless.

So always keep in mind that with every model in this range, I will have the same complaint; I don’t like the design of their helmet.

Intercessors:

The Primaris line was a way for the design team to re-imagine the space marines in a new way. Their size got updated to what might be considered “Tru-scale” and lore-wise, they gained a better crafted kit than their predecessors. Though what they gained in upgrades, they lost in group flexibility. 

Intercessors are equipped with Bolt rifles, which are basically slightly upgraded Boltguns. These can be retrofitted in the usual way with scopes or under-slung grenade launchers. 

Lore-wise, Intercessors take a surprisingly defensive role, mostly described as using suppressive fire to slowly advance to a position or hold the line.  

Their design, specifically their proportions, is what many expected the actual proportions of a space marine to be. They are hulking masses of power armour that should dwarf humans easily. The original Space Marines were a little “ill-proportioned” and the new Primaris have fixed that issue very well. 

One complaint I’ve seen appear is the fact that Intercessors lack the ornateness and religious aspects that the old marines had. If you’d actually compare them with Tactical Marines, it kind of shows that this isn’t the case. 

In fact, it just shows that normal Space Marines aren’t that ornate to begin with. 

Intercessors are a good re-imagining of the Tactical Marines and share the same feel that their predecessors have. What the Intercessors lack is just their weapon options.

7/10

Hellblasters:

The Primaris doctrine seems to hark back to the olden days before the Horus Heresy. Instead of the highly adaptable formations that we see in the Tactical Squads or the Devastator Squads, the Primaris decide instead to have specialized squads.

So while the Intercessors favor trusty bolt weapons, the Hellblasters make use of the the Plasma Incinerator: an improved version of the Plasma Gun that doesn’t overheat unless its fired in its overcharged setting. Hellblasters have the role of providing covering fire, similar to Devastators.  

The Plasma Incinerator is what makes this my favorite unit from the mainline army. It is such an improvement in design over that of the Plasma Gun. It makes for a great silhouette and the miniature looks more powerful because of it.

9/10

Reivers:

Reivers are part of the Vanguard line of Primaris troops; units specifically designed for long covert and stealth operations. 

(The rest of the Vanguard will be looked at in a future post.) 

Reivers themselves act like terror troops; sneaking into combat before yelling “OOGA BOOGA” and murdering everyone in the room like an Eversor Assassin. 

Primaris power armour has a very interesting quirk. It comes in different variants that can be mixed and matched to serve a certain role. Reivers and most of the vanguard line use Phobos Armour; a pattern that is lighter, more lightly armoured and features servos that allow it to be almost silent in combat. It features Grav-Chutes, which allows Reivers to safely descend from heights, similar as to what Elysian Drop-Troopers utilize.

They go into battle with Bolters and over-sized knives. They can also take a Grapling Hook, so they can cosplay as their favourite DC hero. The skull helmet they wear has an in built voice amplifier, allowing their battle chants to turn into a police sound cannon. They basically stole the idea from Eldar Howling Banshees. 

The poses from the “Easy-to-build” kit are just ugly, but their other kit fixes that issue. I still am not sure about the skull helmet, and would’ve preferred a better way to visualize their voice-amplifiers. I kind of like the Phobos pattern, but I do have some gripes with it, such as the exposed metal abs(?) they have. 

6/10

Aggressors:

I really don’t hope this is what will replace Terminators.

Aggressors are a fire support unit that slowly advances while providing covering fire from mid to close range. They wear Gravis Armour, which is the more heavily reinforced variant of the Mark X. They have Power Fists that have either Flamers or Bolters attached to them, and some are equipped with shoulder mounted grenade launchers.

Gravis Armour is my least favourite of the three patterns and Aggressors are my main reason for it. They look very clunky and are way too cluttered with weapons. I don’t like the rounded design as well. It looks like they would take one step and then fall face first into the dirt. Even the artwork doesn’t do them justice and makes their over-sized armaments even more over-sized. A wider belly and smaller gauntlets would’ve fixed this unit’s design.

4/10

Inceptors:

Remember the intro of the Space Marine video game? Captain Titus leaping off a Thunderhawk and flying through an air battle to land on an Ork ship? Inceptors do just that, landing in the thick of the battle, with guns in both hands like B.J. Blazkowicz.

They are equipped with either Plasma Guns or Assault Bolters, and fly through the air with an over-sized jump-pack. To soften their landing, they have these funny looking boot plates, so that they don’t die during the impact.

If the boot plates weren’t a thing, I would have no qualms with this unit. Their version of the Gravis Armour is what I would’ve preferred the Aggressors to have. They also look like they would actually do well in low gravity environments, such as space battles. What I like most about them is the fact that they seemingly resemble Assault Marines from the artwork of Rogue Trader.

Games Workshop has kind of gone back to looking at Rogue Trader, and figuring out how certain aspects of it could fit back into 40k. I’m 100% behind that trend and want more of it.

7/10

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

The Primaris range is already massive and I’m separating the range into different parts. So far though, it has been a varied bag of good and meh. I do want to keep these varied, so next up, I’m going to tackle a different army; the Death Guard...

The wrong kiss

A/N and NOW it’s actually day 11 ! What a party today has been folks, I feel like I’ve been in this world for so long i’ve forgotten how to function as a human being. 

ANYWAY this is Sirius x reader, some best friend goodness, and a quidditch final, cause i love it. Enjoy xx

Y/N woke up suddenly, rubbing her eyes whilst sitting up. The rest of the dorm room was still asleep and there was frost settling on the windowsill. Y/N pulled herself out of bed, stretching out her back and moving towards her chair where she had laid out her uniform the night before. Today was the day.

She gulped, staring at the uniform for a moment before putting it on quickly and slipping out of the dorm room before anyone could get up. Y/N had a routine the morning before a game, and the fact that it was a final didn’t mean that would change. She made her way down the stairs, lingering in the light of the sun streaming through each window along the way towards the Great Hall. She took a breath in every four steps and a breath out every four steps.

Y/N arrived at the Great Hall feeling a little calmer and ignored the stares she was receiving when she walked down the Gryffindor table and to where there was a large portion of bacon.

“Early as always,” A loud voice broke her concentration and she rolled her eyes as a tall boy with messy black hair sat beside her and stole her piece of bacon.

“Can you not steal my food,” Y/N elbowed him over and took back her piece, pairing it with some scrambled eggs and toast, making a sandwich.

“It’s my pregame tradition!” James pouted, getting some more and chowing down.

“Gryffindor’s mighty leader, and best chaser, sitting together, getting ready for the match of the century!” Y/N smiled as she heard the voice of her best friend, Sirius Black whispering cheers as he ran down the Gryffindor table to meet them.

“Good morning to you too,” He leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head, another of their pre-game traditions. Y/N sort of wished it had never become one, since she seemed to get a tingle that moved from her head the whole way down her body every time he did it. But it was fine, that’s just best friendship.

“Are you ready?” Sirius sat opposite them, clapping his hands together.

“Better be,” James mock-glared at Y/N who snorted.

“He pretends, but he’s very serious.”

“Yeah, it’s the same look he gives me when he’s ‘ok with me stealing his clothes’”

“I regret every introducing you two,” He scowled, biting down on some toast aggressively.

Slowly students had begun to trickle into the Great Hall, many wearing either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw colours, the Hall getting louder and louder as people began cheering at each time as they passed their seats. Y/N had been sinking deeper and deeper into her seat as it got busier and James was watching her carefully.

“Alright, changerooms, now.” He was in captain mode now, his voice almost getting deeper, commanding. Y/N followed him out of the Great Hall, nodding to Sirius who wished them good luck, James picking up the rest of the team as they went down the table, leading them towards the pitch.

“Weather is great, light wind but nothing that’s gonna whip us in the face.” James turned to grin at his team. “Are you ready?”

“Damn right we are!” Rigel, the house beater cried, raising his bat in the air. The rest of the team rallied with him, yelling loudly.

“So let’s get out there and destroy Ravenclaw!” He put his hand in, the rest of the team joined him. “3,2,1, GRYFFINDOR!”

The team joined in, yelling as hard as they could muster.

“Alright, get your arses back in the changerooms and let’s go over some final strategy.”

Y/N begun pacing the changerooms as James went over the strategies they had been practicing all year. She had them in her head, she’d run over them for the past few weeks with James, by herself, if anything it was just making her more nervous.

“Are you ok?” Vega leaned in, tugging Y/N’s sleeve and getting her to stop moving.

“Yeah, sorry, just… you know.”

Vega smiled at her. She was another chaser, they had been on the team together for the past 3 years and were just about as in sync as it gets.

“We’re in this together.” She bumped Y/N’s shoulder playfully, grinning at her. Y/N smiled back squeezing her hand tightly.

“It’s time to go,” James squeezed his hands together, taking a deep breath, “Let’s do this.”

They heard Madam Hooch call out Gryffindor and they mounted their brooms, flying into the pitch to a tumultuous applause, the Gryffindors screaming as loud as they could as they landed in the middle of the pitch, meeting the Ravenclaw team.

“Captains shake hands!” Hooch called out, her voice magnified 10x its normal volume.

James and Charlie, the Ravenclaw Captain, stepped forwards the shook hands, both of them clearly trying to squeeze the others hard enough to leave a bit of a bruise. They stepped back, returning to their respective teams.

“OK, on my whistle! 3,2,1 – “ the whistle blew and the teams flew up into the air. Y/N felt the pleasant sensation of soaring through the air, the wind whipping through her tight plait.

The crowd’s cheers were drowned out as she focused in on where the quaffle was, zooming towards Vega who had stolen it from one of the Ravenclaw chasers. There was a whipping noise beside her and she ducked, avoiding a bludger as she reached Vega’s other side, there to support for the two very large Ravenclaw boys zooming towards her from the Ravenclaw side.

Y/N dropped underneath Vega, holding back momentarily as Vega continued to move forwards and towards the two boys who were about to circle her. At the last second, Y/N zoomed forwards, catching the quaffle that Vega ‘dropped’ as the boys swarmed. She dove upwards and shot towards goal, making the shot.

“Yes, Y/N!” She could hear James scream from across the pitch, his arms in the air as he circled at the top, keeping his eye out for the snitch. The Gryffindor side screamed along side him as the score went up, 5-nil.

Ravenclaw scored two more next, countered by three more goals by Vega.

Madame Hooch called half-time and the teams landed quickly, both keen to use as much time as possible to their advantage. It was tense, as expected, with both teams having been matched in scores across the season, and being evenly matched in just about every player. James had gone for the snitch twice but been cut off by the other seeker, choosing to tail him instead of go after the snitch herself.

“Look we are playing well, but not well enough.” James waited until they were all seated before talking, his voice harder than normal. Y/N knew how much the final meant to him, his last final. Problem was, it was also Charlie’s last game, and Y/N was sure he would do everything he could to take down James Potter in his last year.

“We need to be pulling out all the stops ok, last game means all your energy, all your resources. I don’t care if you have a date tomorrow, or seven exams next week. This is all you need to focus on. So, get out there, bludger heading towards your head or not, and win!”

“I don’t think I’m prepared to die, captain,” Muller grinned, the second beater, winking at James who looked like he was making a war chant.

“You know what I bloody well mean, get out there!”

“Yes, captain, sir!” Muller and Rigel saluted to James who scowled at them. They trooped back onto the pitch, mounding their brooms and meeting the Ravenclaw team. Madame Hooch whistled and the teams were off again.

Before long, Ravenclaw was on 150 points and Gryffindor was just behind on 140. Another bludger got hit directly where James was flying, but he dodged it neatly, making it slam into Y/N’s back who was flying over the top of the Ravenclaw chasers, hoping to dive on top of them.

Y/N felt the pain shoot through her, barely hearing Madame Hooch’s whistle as the game paused momentarily to ensure she was ok. Vega and Rigel came over to her, Vega holding her up as she bent over in pain, groaning loudly.

“Are you ok?” Veja yelled over the boos the Gryffindor crowd was screaming.

“Yeah just give me a second,” Y/N groaned louder, but motioned to Madame Hooch that she was ok. She raised an eyebrow but blew her whistle when Y/N straightened out her back. Y/N kept an eye on James from the corner of her eye, sending him a nod, flying slowly upwards and towards the Gryffindor goal posts.

James zoomed off, but everyone in the crowd and most of the game still had their eyes on Y/N as she waved off her teammates and the quaffle returned to play. But then they saw it. A yell went up from the pitch, Charlie screaming out to their seeker as they saw James diving lower and lower, a golden glint in the corner of the pitch.  

Other players had finally seen him and chased him down the field, but they were too late. James brought his broom upwards and held his hand up in the air, holding a fluttering golden ball. A huge cheer went up across the pitch, the crowd and team in sync as they flew towards him and crashed directly into him as they all hit the ground, screaming victory.

Suddenly Sirius was beside her, lifting her up in a hug that swung her legs of the floor and had his head buried into her shoulder.

“Are you ok!” He looked slightly concerned, but his mouth was still curved in a smile that he seemed to be trying to play down.

“Give me a butterbeer and save me a dance, and then I will be,” Y/N winked and he barked out a laugh, squeezing her tighter.

"Party in the common room!" James shouted at the swarming crowd that had hoisted most of the team up upon their backs. The crowd lowered the team so they could make their way to the front of the pitch where Dumbledore was standing with Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall, ready to present them with the house cup.

McGonagall looked like she might cry, and James jumped up onto the podium and kissed her on the cheek, holding the cup into the air for the crowd to see, grinning stupidly down at them all.

“We did it!” He yelled, jumping up and down next to Dumbledore and Hooch, who were smiling and shaking their heads at him. Finally, he jumped into the crowd, letting them swarm him once more, leading them slowly up towards the Gryffindor Common Rooms.

The music began blaring almost immediately, the common room covered in scarves and streamers, obviously very hastily strewn across the fireplace and windows.

Even Remus had joined in, forgetting most of his prefect duties, and digging into the piles upon piles of food, that James and Sirius had 'miraculously' appeared with at the portrait hole. Y/N went over to the drink table and was just about to grab one when someone whispered in her ear. 

"I think they've been spiked," the voice said, and she turned to see the grinning face of Lily, who was nodding in the direction of James dancing like a lunatic and Sirius laughing beside him. Y/n rolled her eyes and let Lily lead her over to some armchairs, a bit away from all of the action. 

"So, tell me about the match" Lily grinned at her, "Are you ok?"

She stayed with her for a bit before going to join James, giving him a kiss on the cheek and attempting to calm him down as he was now threatening to transfigure Peter into a rat. Y/N was left sitting in her armchair, happily watching James and Sirius make fools of themselves. 

Sirius fell over almost immediately, attempting to sit back down on the seats in front of him. 

"The chairs keep moving out of my way!" He yelled angrily, stumbling into some of the team who were huddled together and rehashing the best parts of the game. 

"Try not moving yourself, idiot" Vega pushed him sideways and into the chair next to Y/N’s.

"Conspiracy" He muttered under his breath, sinking deeper into the chair, his head lolling slightly to the side. Rigel followed him, dancing a little excitedly through the crowd and stumbling over towards her, arms outstretched. Y/N couldn't help but laugh at his extremely happy expression.

"I can't believe we won!" he slurred slightly, picking Y/N up in a huge bear hug, spinning her around him. Y/N grinned as he lowered her back down again, before he leant in and kissed her passionately on the lips.

Y/N kissed him back momentarily, pulling back and laughing loudly at him. They’d made out before, for fun, though she knew he was desperately in love with the Ravenclaw seeker and also drunk out of his mind. He stumbled backwards, still grinning and moving off and back to their teammates.

Y/N shook her head and turned to face Sirius who had seemingly sobered up suddenly, now giving her an odd expression.

“What?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing,” He mumbled, still a little slurred, lowering his gaze.

“What’s the matter!” She said a little louder, over the music that had been slowly increasing in volume over the past few hours. Y/N leaned forward in her chair and kicked him lightly in his shin when he didn’t reply.

“It’s nothing!” He raised his arms in defeat, standing up, “I just need some air.”

“Ok, I’ll come with-“

“No,” He spun around on his heel, stumbling slightly back into the chair but steadying himself quickly. “I just mean, I just want to be by myself for a minute.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, watching him leave the common room, pushing the door to the fat lady open and disappearing into the night. After a moment of consideration, Y/N grimaced and followed him, ignoring the Fat Lady’s drunken cheers for the Gryffindor team and running down the hallway in the direction where she could still hear his footsteps.

“Sirius!” She called out when she saw him, speeding up to catch him before he saw who it was. He was standing beside the large window that overlooked the owlery and far side of the grounds and jumped when he heard his name.

“What- oh, Y/N, I told you – “

“I bloody know what you told me,” Y/N huffed, cutting him off, “but I want to know why you got all sour puss, you love parties.”

“I don’t love parties,” He muttered, leaning against the window and crossing his arms. Y/N rolled her eyes and stepped forwards.

“Oh come off it, I’ve never seen you leave one before at least 4 am, and that’s if you and James haven’t continued it in your dorm in secret.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Y/N can you just leave me alone for one minute!”

“I will not if you’re in a shit mood and ruining your own favourite thing for yourself! You looked fine until.” Y/N stopped herself, suddenly making the connection. But, no. He couldn’t be mad because of that.

Sirius seemed to squirm in his spot, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“Are you mad… because Rigel kissed me?” Y/N stared a little incredulously at him, eyes bulging as she heard the words out loud. “Are you jealous?”

Sirius huffed, leaning onto his other foot, opening and closing his mouth momentarily before actually replying.

“I’m not,” He started, his face beginning to flush, “I’m not jealous. You’re free to kiss whoever you –”

Y/N cut him off again, but this time by leaning in quickly and kissing him. He seemed to stand in shock for a second, and Y/N went to pull away, feeling complete and utter embarrassment start to overtake her but then, as if a switch flipped inside his brain, he wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her back.

Y/N’s heart gave a little stutter as he parted his lips and Y/N felt the wet of his mouth on hers, his arms around her waist, her back and then reaching up to feel the edge of her hair, pulling it out of the plait that was still sitting along her back. Y/N shook it out, letting him pull a hand through it, grabbing strands as they continued to kiss, pushed up against the windowsill.

Sirius pulled away first, his face still flushed, though Y/N was starting to think it was likely the firewhiskey they had spiked the punch with, his face alive and surprised.

“I… I didn’t see that coming,” He said finally, Y/N laughing a little nervously in response.

“I honestly didn’t plan it.”

“You should not plan things more often.”

“Noted.”

The stood in silence for a moment, wrapped up in each other. Y/N could feel Sirius’ heart beating loud and strong in his chest and she felt the sudden urge to lean against it, feel the beat against her.

“So how long…” Sirius asked, trailing off with a knowing expression.

“A long time,” Y/N laughed again, nodding, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“And you never said anything!”

“You never said anything!” Y/N pushed him lightly, smiling giddily up at him. He was smiling too, running a hand through his curly dark hair.

“So uh, am I meant to like ask you out, or?” Sirius feigned confusion and Y/N shoved him again laughing louder.

“I hate you.”

“I have definitive proof against that actually,” Sirius winked at her, pulling her closer to him again.

“Prove it.”

He kissed her again, softer this time, lingering on her lips for a moment before pulling away.

“Yeah, shit, you’re right,” Y/N looked up at him again, heart fluttering, whole body tingling. Happy.

 Taglist:  @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana​ @avengersassemblee​ @maraudersandco​ @sly-vixen-up2nogood​ @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad​ @evyiione​ @minerva26love​ @aikeia​ @gollyderek​ @greatwombatblaze​  @songforhema​  @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom

Running Mate - Part 9

Hello, hello, hello! After a good while, part 9 of the running mate series is here! I hope you all like it! I have been taking requests and loving it, so if you have any Henry fix requests, I’d be more than happy to hear them! 

Story idea: While running in the English countryside, Henry meets a fun documentarian and sparks fly. 

Word Count: 4,032

Adult, 18+, NSFW

CW: sexual intercourse, penetration

@maeleeme @andyrazzledazzle @fanfictionaddiction99 @henrycavillluv32 @jhenno2002 @blossom-a @xceafh @oddsnendsfanfics @severuined

The rest of your time spent on the island was at the mercy of Henry’s schedule and Henry planned a lot for you. His version of relaxing was either playing video games, beating his brothers at board games, and/or walking everywhere. It’s not that you minded walking, but cars were invented for a reason! Regardless, you followed Henry anywhere he took you and he took you to several places. He took you to the north coast cliff paths where you walked with Kal for several hours one day. Henry told you all kinds of stories about growing up with his older brothers here. In return, you shared stories about life on the farm with your family.

Of all the places you explored, your favorite though, was a tie between the Mount Orgueil Castle and La Hougue Bie. They were two historical sites on the island, the latter being one of the oldest buildings in all of mankind. Henry played right into your love of history and schedule private tours of both locations. You hounded the tour guide for more and more information, ignoring the smiles and smirks from Henry.

You were also actively avoiding newspapers and social media. Paparazzi photos of the two of you on the beach the other night were circulating and causing a ruckus. While it didn’t bother you one way or the other, you knew it was bothering Henry. Especially because they were starting to say particularly nasty things about the both of you. There was much speculation behind the secrecy of your relationship, as if you owed anyone an explanation. Henry took it all in stride, but you could see what it was doing to him.

After La Hougue Bie, Henry took you to a little pub that was part of another historic site. The owner of the pub came out to speak with the two of you and you were able to grill him as well. Henry smiled the whole time, enjoying how focused you could be on something. When y’all had finished eating, it was late in the day. There was still time to do more, so Henry took you around Plemont Bay. The tide was coming in, unfortunately, so you weren’t able to explore the caves under the cliffs, but that was okay. The views from the cliffs themselves were stunning. You stopped occasionally to just take in the beauty. Jersey really was unlike any place you had ever been. Somewhere along the coastline, Henry stopped you.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing for you. You step lightly over to him and accept his open arms for an embrace. You loved the way his arms wrapped around you and the way you fit against him. You never missed an opportunity to be embraced by those trunk-like arms. For a moment, Henry let go of you and you turn around so your back is pressed against his abdomen.

“It’s beautiful here,” you say mostly to Henry, but also to no one in particular. Henry chuckles and leans down to kiss the top of your head.

“I’m glad you like it here,” he murmurs to you and you smile. Then you pull your phone out of your bag and open the camera to take a picture of the scene in front of you.

“It won’t do this view justice,” you say. “But I want evidence that I was here,” you glance up at Henry who is smiling at you. Then he pulls out his own phone and holds it up in front of you. “Your camera is facing the wrong way,” you say, pointing out the fact that it’s facing you and not the water.

“Nope,” Henry says, bending down to fit himself in frame with you. He situates his phone so he can snap a picture. Right as he’s about to you make a ridiculous face. The final product is Henry smiling sweetly while you are making a stupid face. Henry checks out the photo and laughs. He kisses you on the temple before standing back up. He looks down at his phone then shows you.

“That’s one heck of a face,” you say and Henry snorts, nudging you.

“Be nice,” he murmurs. “I don’t think you’ve ever looked better,” he adds in a sugary-sweet tone. You smirk up at him.

“I was talking about you,” you reply and Henry snorts again.

“Shut up,” he mutters as you bellow with laughter. He smiles wide at you, watching as you radiate with joy. Then he pulls you in and kisses you deeply, passionately. You accept his kiss and his embrace with equaled passion.

“Whoa nelly,” you say a little breathlessly, coming up for air. Henry smiles and chuckles a little.

“I’m sorry, I’m just,” he says pausing. “I am in love with you, y/n,” Henry murmurs, one hand gently caressing the side of your face. You smile at him.

“You told me this already,” you tell him, looking up with raised eyebrows.

“I know,” he smiles. “Here’s something I haven’t told you,” he looks down at you, smiling gently. “I am heels over head in love with you. I think you are the most incredible woman I’ve been with,” you can’t contain a snort at that declaration. Henry looks at your confused as your ears begin to burn red with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“What?” Henry asks. You look up into his blue eyes and sigh.

“It’s just, well, Henry, I’ve seen the other women you’ve been with,” you begin. “I know that I’m not the prettiest or the smartest or the most accomplished,” you say, not noticing Henry increasingly furrowed brow. “I know that I’m not ‘the most incredible woman’; not by a long shot,” you explain, finally looking up at him. The expression he’s giving you makes you feel like apologizing for existing.

“Why would you think that?” Henry asks and you can hear every ounce of pain in his voice. You suck in a breath.

“Because,” you pause, unsure of how you want to proceed. “Because I’m not blind, Henry. I’m not ignorant,” you sniffle a little, holding back tears. “Like I said, I’ve seen who you’ve been with. I have seen the posts about Lucy and how you still talk about her in interviews,” you explain and watch Henry’s expression change from concern to something resembling guilt. “I’m not an idiot,” you start to say but Henry cuts you off.

“I never said you were,” he says and you shake your head.

“I know, I know you didn’t,” you reply. “What I’m trying to say is I’m not stupid. I know that I’m not an impressive woman on my own, that’s why I mask everything with sarcastic comments and humor,” you explain. “If I can keep them laughing, they won’t notice that I’m actually not that great,” you add, ashamed of yourself for even thinking it. You dare a glance up at Henry’s eyes and see they are storming. His jaw his rolling as he processes what you have just said.

“You are a successful filmmaker; you are a college graduate; you are an award-winning documentarian with a potential Oscar nomination for your first film; you have another major project in the works with a major production company,” he says not looking at you. Then his eyes dart to yours. “You are not any of the women I’ve been with before because you are,” he pauses. “You are y/n. The woman that makes me laugh constantly. The woman that has never once made me feel like a celebrity that owes her something,” he takes a breath and looks at you intently. “You got everything you have because you’ve worked, hard, for it. You are the most incredible woman I’ve been with because you are nothing like the women I’ve previously dated,” he says and you can’t stop the sob that escapes you. Immediately, Henry wraps you up in a bear hug. He strokes your hair and shushes you in his calming way. After a moment of overwhelming emotions, you pull back from and chuckle.

“Surprise,” you say sardonically. “My confidence is completely false and made up,” you attempt to laugh through your tears and sniffles. Henry doesn’t laugh, he just uses his hand to gently push your chin up so you are looking him in the eyes. “I told you. Because of you I have all these feelings and they confuse me,” you say, laughing a little. Henry smiles ever so softly.

“There is nothing confusing about the way I feel about you,” he says quietly. “I am in love with you - completely, undoubtedly, and irrevocably,” he looks at you with those blue eyes that could rival the water behind you. “And besides, I’m not the most confident bloke either,” he adds, smiling at you gently. You chuckle a little.

“That’s exactly something that someone who is Superman personified would say,” you mutter and Henry laughs. “I know you’re not perfect, but you’re damn near close,” you say looking into his eyes. He smiles at you, scoffing just a little.

“You’re pretty close to perfect as well,” He says to you quietly and you snort.

“Not even,” you reply and Henry shakes his head.

“You’re perfect for me,” he adds and you pause, looking up at him. A breeze brushed against your skin and you shivered slightly.

“If we’re not careful, there will be even more photos of us together in the rags,” you say to him, but he just shakes his head.

“I don’t care,” he replies. “Let them see us together. I’m yours, completely, and the world can just figure out how to deal with that,” he explains and you break out a beaming grin. “Come on,” he adds, reaching for your hand. The two of you begin walking again along the side of the cliffs and you feel something close to contentment radiate throughout your body.

Later that night, Henry invited Charlie and his wife out to dinner with the two of you. The four of you went to a local restaurant where everyone spent the night eating, drinking, and laughing. Henry took your sarcastic comments and snarky teasing in stride, often teasing you right back. When everyone was done, you all walked around the area. Henry and Charlie share story after story about growing up together, pointing out different areas that are the same and different from their youth. You loved seeing how happy Henry was with brother. He was almost a different person around his family and it was incredible to witness. The night ends back at the Cavill residence with you falling asleep in Henry’s arms. Your head rests on his shoulder while his arms wrap around your body loving. He holds you close, finding complete enjoyment with the fact that your small frame is pressed tightly against his. Gently, he strokes your hair, feeling as your whole body relaxes into his. He lets his hand softly caress your shoulder and down your back. Your body instinctively shivers at his touch. Henry can’t help but smile.

He knew how scared you were to admit your feelings. It wasn’t something that bothered him because he understood well what you were going through. He knew he was guilty of confusing lust with love and vice versa in past relationships. He’d made assumptions, had poor judgment and flat out been wrong. But he knew what he felt for you wasn’t misunderstood or mistaken. He was in love with you and it had nothing to do with your physical attributes. Yes, you were a naturally beautiful woman with external features that turned heads. But it wasn’t what made him fall in love with you. It was your sense of humor and the way you viewed the world. It was because of how much you loved history, family, and learning. Even the way you drank your coffee, holding the mug with two hands as if you needed to grasp the mug for dear life. Kal snored loudly and shifted in his sleep, breaking Henry from his trance. He sighed and shifted, pressing your body further into his. He fell asleep thinking of different ways he could make you feel as special as you made him feel.

—

When it was time to get back to England, it was done so with a heavy heart by everyone. Henry’s parents were sad to see you leave. Marianne told you repeatedly that you were welcome back at any time. Colin shook your hand and hugged you tightly, a move that seemed to surprise Marianne, Henry, Charlie, and Simon.

“What happened between you and my dad?” Henry asked when the two of you were on the plane headed back to England. You looked at him confused.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“My dad doesn’t hug just anyone,” Henry states. “He’s normally very reserved, but you,” he trails off unsure of what he wants to say. You chuckle.

“What can I say, I guess he just likes me more,” you reply, smirking at him. He smirks back, scoffing. The rest of the flight proceeds mostly in silence. Henry is reading through a possible role to accept while you read through a book about ancient Peru. Back in England, Henry helps collect your research from his house then drives you back to your flat. The door barely has time to close before Henry is on you. His mouth immediately finds yours, his hands running up your back to your breasts. With his tongue, he parts your lips while your hands snake around his broad shoulders so you can lean deeper into his embrace.

“How long have you been waiting to do that?” you ask when he finally pulls away from your lips.

“A while,” he smirks and you laugh before pulling him back for another kiss. Without any effort, you tug on Henry’s hand and pull him toward your bedroom. In moments, you are both stripped of your clothes and you have pulled Henry down onto the bed. Your back arches and your toes curl into the mattress when Henry pushes himself into you. He lets out a sigh of relief as he feels your walls wrap around his length. “God, I missed you,” he breathes, rocking his hips into yours.

“You got your rocks off almost every night,” you say gasping a little as Henry goes deeper into you. “How on earth could you have missed me?” you ask before groaning a little. Henry smirks.

“The feeling of being inside you,” he begins, grunting as he thrusts. “And seeing what it does to you. That’s what I missed,” he says before pulling out and flipping you over. You are now on all fours with your ass in the air pointed straight up at Henry. He grabs a hold of your hips and pushes in past your folds.

“Fuck,” You groan loudly as you feel every inch deep inside you. Henry grunts as he pumps his hips rhythmically. Desperately, you clutch the sheets as Henry pushes deeper and deeper into you. “Henry,” you gasp. “Henry,” you repeat, feeling yourself climaxing quickly. Henry’s hands grip tighter on your hips as he continues with fast, repeating thrusts. You can feel yourself clenching around him. He feels it too and he moans with pleasure. With a final grunt and thrust, Henry finishes. He hangs on to you for a moment before getting up, not without a pop to your butt cheek. You yelp in surprise as you collapse on the bed, huffing and breathing heavily. Henry hands you a towel so you can quickly clean up, then lays down next to you, softly running his fingers up and down your back. You prop yourself up on your elbows and look over at the hunk of man that is laying in your bed, completely naked and exposed.

“So tell me, Ms. Award-Winning-Documentarian,” Henry begins, smiling at you. “What do you want to do for your birthday?” he asks. You squint at him.

“My birthday is still weeks away,” you reply and Henry bobs his head in agreement.

“Yes,” he agrees. “But I want to know what you want to do so I can plan for the exact opposite,” he says and you laugh.

“Honestly, do you want to know where I’ve wanted to go ever since I was a little girl?” you ask.

“More than anything,” Henry replies genuinely and you smile.

“Dollywood,” you say, sighing. Henry looks at you intrigued.

“Right. What on earth is Dollywood?” Henry asks and you giggle.

“I’m so glad you asked. It’s the hillbilly Disney World!” you exclaim. Henry’s reaction is a snort with some head shaking. “Dollywood is a theme park and resort created by Dolly Parton herself,” you explain. Henry nods is head though he clearly doesn’t understand.

“Why do you want to go there?” he asks. You glance at him and smile.

“Why does anyone want to go anywhere?” you toss back at him. “Dollywood just sounds like a magical place and it would be a dream come true to see Dolly’s real, humble beginnings in the middle of an empire that she built herself,” you say. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a warm smile spread across Henry’s face. He leaned down to plant a soft kiss on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“My underdog loves an underdog,” he murmurs, leaving a trail of kisses along your shoulder.

“Mhmm,” you reply, giggling. Henry wraps his trunk-like arms around you and you rotate your breasts are pressed against his chest. You rain down a flurry of kisses across collar bone, feeling every breath and giggle that escapes him. Once you’re done, you look up at him and into his beautiful blue eyes when you suddenly realize you don’t want him to leave.

“What?” he asks, noticing the expression on your face.

“I just thinking about my birthday,” you say. “You’re going to take me somewhere like, Disney World instead, aren’t you?” you ask disdainfully and Henry bellows.

“Rats, you foiled my plan,” he replies, then he gently strokes the side of your face with one hand. “What’s really going on?” he asks and you sigh deeply.

“You’re going to take this the wrong way, but,” you start. “I kind of enjoyed waking up next to you,” you say as nonchalantly as you possibly can. Henry smiles.

“That’s it? That’s the only thing you like?” he asks teasingly.

“Yep, that’s it. Nothing else. Definitely not the way you touch me,” you say as Henry’s hand trails down past your jaw, across your collar bone and along your breast. “For sure not the way you kiss me or make me feel,” you add while Henry proceeds to lean down and kiss your jaw and then your neck. You smile at the sensation. Henry leans back up and looks you in the eye.

“You know you could move in with me,” Henry says to you quietly.

“Yeah, but that would require you having to clear out the closet with all your ex-girlfriends' things and I’d have to toss that unmarked box in the Thames,” you say and Henry scoffs. “Then I’d probably have to kill you because I just told you about that box,” you add. Henry bellows and you smirk up at him.

Reluctantly, the two of you finally get up out of bed. Henry puts his clothes back on and you get dressed in an old sweatshirt and shorts. Henry looks you up and down before pulling you close to him. He kisses you softly at first, but that kiss quickly turns passionate.

“For the record,” Henry states. “I’ve only ever lived with one other girlfriend and that was back in LA. So I’ve got nothing to hide or toss out,” he says.

“Oh, well, in that case. I was totally making it up about the unmarked box and the Thames,” you say quickly. Henry chuckles then gives you another sweet and passionate kiss.  

When he’s finally gone, you stand in the living room and look around. Something is making you feel uncomfortable until you realize it’s the silence. Your place is too silent. Henry isn’t humming to himself. Kal isn’t getting into things and making a ruckus. Sighing, you collapse onto the couch.

Randomly, you pull out your phone and begin scrolling through apps. You check the email folder to see no new notifications. You check Facebook and find your sister in law, Rebecca, has posted several photos of your niece and nephews. Finally, you scroll through Instagram. On a whim, you open Henry’s account and see multiple reposts from your documentary account, promoting your film. Every post has an encouraging comment from Henry about how great the film is or how well it was produced. You smile at his obvious show of support and then you see it when you scroll back to the top. Somehow you missed it at first, but now you can’t unsee it. There is a selfie of Henry, standing with his back to a field of lavender. One of the touristy places Henry took you in Jersey was the lavender fields. It was one of the most beautiful places you had ever seen. Apparently, Henry had snapped a selfie of himself with his back to the field. And behind him, there you stood. You were facing the other way, so all that was seen was the back of your head, but there was no mistaking your form. He added only one hashtag to the image - #touristythings. You chuckle and double-tap the screen to like it.

While staring at the image, an idea occurs to you. Neither you nor Henry had made an announcement about your relationship and frankly, neither of you had any intention of doing so. However, clearly, Henry was comfortable sharing suggestive images of you so you decided to follow suit. Plus, it would be fun to see just how many people freaked out. Scrolling through your images, you found one that Henry’s assistant had taken of the two of you at Cannes. She’d sent you the image afterward and it made you actually laugh out loud. Henry was looking handsome as ever, but you were just a blur. Something had caught your attention at the last second and you turned, resulting in your face being obscured. You laugh to yourself as you type out the caption for the image.

“There’s a reason I stay behind the camera #picturesarehard”

You chose not to tag Henry because there was no mistaking him. For a second, you hesitate to upload the image. You saved the image as a draft and texted Henry.

Would you mind if I uploaded this image? You send the image along with the text and wait. Moments later, he responds.

I think that would no longer make you an ‘unidentified woman’ ;) he says and you snort.

A hit to my image that I’m willing to take ;P you hit send and chuckle at your own ridiculousness.

Oh yeah? Well, that’s a hit I’m willing to take as well he replies. You scoff at the message.

A hit you’re willing to take? you toss back.

Yeah. Being seeing with a soon to be identified woman who can’t even take a decent picture looks pretty bad for me

You read the message through two times before busting out with laughter. Shaking your head, you bite your bottom lip and type out a response.

Guess you’re going to have quite a bit of damage control to do on your image then you say, hitting send and chuckling. Navigating back to the app, you find the saved draft and click post. You know what’s at stake and the longer you think about it, the more you begin to realize you don’t care. Henry is the man you love and you were beginning to realize that significant parts of your relationship were being tested. You go back to your messages with him.

Ask me about moving in with you on our 1 year anniversary, you hit send and take a deep breath in. Your phone chimes.

Deal, Henry replies and you smile.

A Frozen modern AU oneshot

Oneshot collection can be read on: FFN | AO3

[Backstory chapter, direct continuation of oneshot #3, Searching] In which Anna officially moves in with Elsa.

-----

Anna sifts through the stranger and collects details like flecks of gold buried in the sands of time.

When she follows her sister through the airport and realises she still has to look up even though Elsa is only wearing flats: Wow, she's taller than me.

When Elsa tries to help her with the luggage and nearly drops it on her own foot: … But not exactly stronger. Got it.

When they get into a small white car: Oh, she does drive.

When Elsa struggles so badly to merge lanes she misses their exit on the freeway: Oh my God. She can't drive.

Anna tries so hard not to grip the door handle for security that she can't remember what she spends the ride rambling about. Her sister is mostly silent, all hums, terse nods and white-knuckled hands on the steering wheel. Anna tells herself it's because all of Elsa's focus is going into keeping them on the road, and not because Elsa, like, hates her or anything. That's absurd.

Right?

When they reach the city, Elsa's driving suddenly improves; Anna suspects it's because there's so much traffic they're barely moving. Sitting at a red light (Elsa slammed on the brakes when it turned yellow), Anna is so captivated by the bustle beyond her window that she nearly misses her sister tentatively asking, "Do you have your license yet?"

Anna snaps her head around too keenly, and winces when she sees Elsa flinch. Is she scared of me? "Sorry? Oh—my license? Ah, no, I kinda, um, failed the test. Twice. But I know how to drive!"

Elsa blinks, and Anna panics—crap, she thinks I'm a total dunce for failing twice—but then the lights go green. Almost immediately, the car behind them honks impatiently and startles them both.

Seeing her sister's shoulders tense up again ignites something inside Anna. She twists in her seat, stares straight through the rear window, and glares at the other driver. She can't tell if they can see her, but she likes to think it was the heat of her wrath that sent them scurrying into the nearest side street.

"What a stinker," Anna huffs as she turns back around. Then she remembers that it's not Kai in the seat beside her, and flushes as she glances towards Elsa. "Am I embarrassing? I'm embarrassing, aren't I? Hans always says so—i-in a nice way, of course. Like, you know, 'you adorable dork' or—"

"You're not embarrassing," Elsa says quietly. There's a pause as she carefully navigates an intersection. Then, "Hans is a friend?"

Oh, Anna realises. I'm not the only one playing detective.

"He's, um, a little more than that."

Elsa's surprise manifests as an especially jerky stop at a pedestrian crossing. "You're dating someone?"

The urge to defend him rises from nowhere. "You'll like Hans! He's a perfect gentleman with the sweetest sense of justice. He just graduated from law school. And he likes chocolate and sandwiches, just like me."

He didn't like you moving across the country, a niggling voice reminds her. Anna purses her lips and pushes the thought to the back of her mind.

"I'm sorry. That question came out strange." Elsa glances at Anna, adding softly, "Sometimes I forget that you're not five years old anymore."

"Well, we're lucky you remembered today, or you never would have found me in the airport. Waaait a minute… why didn't we just go to the information desk and tell them to make an announcement?"

To her surprise, Elsa laughs. "Haven't you had enough of that for a lifetime? You used to get lost every time we went shopping with Mom and Dad."

The memories come flooding in like a storm carving up a forgotten river. "Hey, you got lost all the time, too!"

"You got us both lost all the time."

The warm glow fills Anna's chest and remains there as Elsa turns into a long driveway leading down into the basement of one of the tallest apartments. Elsa takes a full five minutes to park, and then they're zipping up in the elevator.

Following Elsa down the plushly carpeted hallway, Anna discreetly pinches herself. Ow. It's actually happening. It doesn't matter that Hans planted that horrible question in her head ("You haven't lived with your sister in over thirteen years, Anna. How do you know she even loves you anymore?")—she's here. Elsa's here. They'll be coming home together from now on.

Then they reach the door at the very end of the hallway, fitted with one of those fancy keyless locks, and as Elsa reaches for it, she seems to remember something and says rather awkwardly, "It's your birthday."

She forgot.

It shouldn't be so surprising—Elsa hasn't been there for thirteen years of birthdays. Their parents would always give Anna 'a present from Elsa', but Anna knows how hard it is to pick out something for a sister she sees once a year at Christmas ("She likes books," Grandpa replied every time Anna called for research). And Elsa's presents are always a little too perfect, as if she still sleeps on the top bunk and can't escape twelve-year-old Anna gushing about skateboards. And after Anna noticed that, it became harder to ignore the voice that kept wondering if those presents were really from Elsa—a voice that is now smugly saying: I told you so.

"Y-Yeah! It was actually two months ago but time sure does fly. It was a super fun day—Hans and I went to an amusement park. I spent, like, two hours at the bottle toss trying to win this cute Baymax plushie. I've got it in my suitcase; I'll show you later. It's the best cuddle buddy ever."

This gets her an odd look from Elsa, but a beep from the lock distracts them both. Elsa opens the door. She steps back, gesturing shyly for Anna to enter first.

"There had better not be a trapdoor in there," Anna jokes. She doesn't know why she's nervous about this moment. It's a door. It's open.

She steps through.

Her first thought is that everything is minimalistic and very white. An open kitchen with an oak splashback against pale tiles. Cream carpet visible through a glass coffee table sitting in front of a light grey leather couch that looks more like a recliner for one than a place to watch Netflix with friends or sisters.

Even the bookshelves standing sentry on either side of the wall-mounted television contain neat rows of books with the stark pages facing outward. Anna opens her mouth to make a quip about finding any books—but then her curious gaze falls on the small dining table with its single placemat and chair.

Why does this detail hurt so much?

"This place is amazing! I bet myself ten bucks that you had great taste." Even Anna can tell she sounds too loud, too bright. "Remind me to treat myself. I'm craving chocolate fondue right now. Actually, scratch that. I'm always craving chocolate fondue. Any good places around here? Please say yes."

She hopes Elsa still likes chocolate and building snowmen.

Elsa hovers by the shoe cabinet, her left hand loosely gripping her right elbow. "Yes. I'll take you someday. Would you like to see your room?"

Anna catches herself on the verge of saying something stupid like 'Of course! It's the whole reason I'm here.'

"That's the bathroom." Elsa points to a door at the end of a short corridor, then gestures to two other doors on either side. "My room. Your room. I was only using it as a study, so it's very empty after I moved the desk to my room. We can—"

"Relax, sis! I'm so easy. All I need is a—" Anna throws open the door. "—bed."

It's literally the only piece of furniture in the room.

"Woooow. You really weren't kidding about empty, huh?"

Behind her, Elsa sounds apologetic. "I wasn't sure how you wanted to set it up, so I only got a bed. If the mattress is too hard or too soft for you, we can exchange it tomorrow. Or if you don't like the view, you can take my room instead. It really doesn't—"

"I love it." Anna spins around with a grin. "This means we get to go shopping together! But let's get IKEA to deliver to us, yeah? Your Mini Cooper can only fit, like, two-thirds of a flatpack. Ooh, I've seen apps that let you drag furniture onto photos to see how the room looks with—" She's interrupted by a shockingly huge yawn. "Goodness, 'scuse me. Where was I? Right—apps… Elsa? Where are you going?"

Her sister returns with the suitcase. "You just got off a plane; change into something comfortable and get some rest. Dessert and furniture can wait until tomorrow."

"But I'm not—" Another yawn swallows up the rest of Anna's sentence. "—sleepy… Okay, fine. But promise you'll wake me up for dinner, or my rumbling tummy will wake you in the middle of the night."

Elsa promises, and then the door closes with the softest of clicks.

Anna listens, but there's carpet and her sister moves so quietly that it feels like she's back in the big house. Alone. Except she's not.

She checks her phone. Nothing from Hans. She sends him a quick message to say she's arrived at Elsa's place, then looks around at her new room, and decides not to add a photo.

Her suitcase springs open as soon as she unlocks it, spilling her life across the floor. Gerda helped her pack, but none of her neat folding survives the trial of Anna digging for something to sleep in. Anna changes into pyjama bottoms and one of Hans' shirts.

Then her gaze catches on a grey, threadbare sweater.

There's a cartoon graphic of a single slice of pizza. The rest of the pizza is on her father's sweater; a matching Father's Day gift that immediately became a game of chicken. If one of them wore their sweater in the house, the other had to wear theirs, no matter how sweltering the day. It drove her mother crazy. "Can you two please stop wearing those long enough for me to wash them?" she used to sigh.

Now, pulling the sweater over her head, Anna realises in the darkness that it's the little details. It's the fact that their sweater streak was still unbroken when she answered the door to find two police officers solemnly waiting. It's electricity and phone bills that continue to pay themselves, because direct debits don't care that Anna's parents are gone. It's not being able to send videos of Elsa's horrible driving to the group chat because no one else will see them.

A knock on the door startles her. She whirls around with her head still stuck in the sweater and—oh no, bad idea.

"Anna? I forgot to give you… are you okay? I heard a loud noise."

Lying winded on her back, Anna wheezes, "Nothing! My shirt just fell."

"That was very loud for a shirt."

"Yeah, um, that's because I was kind of in it."

The door opens as she sits up. "Did you break anything?" Elsa asks as she helps Anna get her head through the sweater.

"God, I hope not. Keep all your favourite mugs away from me. Actually, keep all your expensive stuff away because I'm ridiculously uncoordinated. As you can see."

"I meant bones, Anna. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Oh." Anna lets out a laugh, rubbing an elbow. "Totally fine. Super thick skull. What did you forget?"

Elsa gestures towards the bed, where she's placed a stack of bath towels. "To give you towels in case you want to take a shower first."

"Thanks. Wow. That's… a lot of colours."

"I wasn't sure which ones you liked."

Anna blinks at her sister. Who might have given her a spare room with nothing but a bed, yet bought towels in literally every colour of the rainbow, just for Anna.

"Oh, and this." Elsa holds out a silver key. "In case the keyless lock fails for any reason. There's a panel you can slide down to open the door normally with this key."

The key feels both light and heavy in Anna's hands. She flashes Elsa a grateful grin. "I'm going to use this every day because that pin code looked so long, I'd forget it every day."

"I don't think you will."

"Hah. You don't know how bad my memory is." And Elsa really doesn't know, does she? There are so many things they don't know about each other.

But then Elsa cocks her head to one side and says, "You can't forget it. I told you: it's your birthday. Month, date, year."

When Anna stares speechlessly for too long, Elsa hurriedly adds, "When I moved in, I was told not to use my own birthday because it's too obvious, so the first thing I thought of was yours—b-but we can change it to your phone number if that's easier for you. Or maybe… Anna? Are you okay?"

The details Anna has collected scatter as she throws her arms around Elsa for the second time that day. Except this time, it doesn't feel like she's hugging a stranger.

When Elsa awkwardly rubs her back, Anna wipes her eyes on her favourite sweater and thinks: That's my sister.

“The Mysterious Broom” || YEAR 3 – Ch.22 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 9/22/2020

Word count: 3,395

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

-----

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

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

-----

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Heather skipped through the corridor, smiling at the mysterious lights shining from inside every suit of armor, her heavy bag bumping against her thigh with every leap. The air smelled of toasted pumpkin pies and syrupy-thick sugary drinks with nutmeg, the halls sparkled brightly from the outside light reflecting off the streamers hung from ceiling corner to ceiling corner.

The halls echoed her shoes and the thumping of presents as she made her way to Gryffindor tower, presenting herself to the portrait of Sir Cadogan.

“Here to duel me, are you? Well head my warning! I never lose!” He raised his sword up and jumped into fighting stance, his horse yawned in the background.

Heather rolled her eyes and knocked on the portrait.

“Fight me!”

The portrait opened and Hermione jumped and hugged her close. “Merry Christmas!”

Heather groaned under her tightening hug. “Hermione! Too tight!”

Hermione pulled away and stepped aside to let her in. Heather took a seat by the fire and ate some toasted round nuts from a bronze saucer while Hermione got her presents down from her room. They snacked and talked about how nice it was to have windows and be so high up and be able to look down at the white castle grounds in the winter.

As much as Heather loved how green and dark and mysterious the lake looked through the Slytherin common room’s massive window, she did wish she could look out onto the grounds during autumn and winter sometimes. The lake always looked the same no matter the season.

The clock over the mantel had struck ten and Hermione decided to go wake Ron and Harry. Within minutes the three of them were running down the stairs and diving into seats next to Heather, ready to exchange and open presents.

Harry fixed his crooked glasses. “Alright. Weasley presents first.”

They took the lumpiest parcels and shredded it open. They had each gotten brand new knitted sweaters in their respective house colors along with knitted socks, a dozen mince pies – home-baked of course – with a box of nut brittle to top everything off.

“I love her sweaters!” Heather looked at her brand new green sweater with a silver snake knitted at the front instead of a giant letter ‘H’. She looked at Harry’s sweater and smiled. “Your old sweater is getting a little short on you right?”

Harry nodded and crunched on some nut brittle. When Harry had gotten an emerald green sweater with the letter ‘H’ stitched inside she had been more excited that eventually she’d get that one too than the fact they were twins and could finally match like twins always did.

They opened cards next, not signed but it did mention studying hard and they figured it was one of the ‘lame’ teachers – as Ron put it – wishing them a Merry Christmas.

“Hagrid’s next?” Ron picked up a parcel that behaved a little too much like a giant rock wrapped in brown paper.

They agreed and together heaved their rock-like packages forward and began opening it. They stared at the contents for a while.

Ron blinked several times. “A rock? It’s a rock.”

They had each received a large jagged lump of muted brown with specks of black and swirls of dark grey. Heather tipped her rock over and saw a carved wooden grater. She picked it up and scraped it down the side, watching as little brown shaving came off the rock with ease.

“Ohh!” Hermione waved the little card around that had come stuck to the brown paper. “They’re ‘Brazilian Cocoa Danburites from Erosional Caverns’ according to Hagrid.”

Heather stuck her finger in the shavings and sucked them off her thumb. “Mmm!” Her heart soared with delight at the thought of being able to scrape cocoa into warm butterbeer all year long. Sometimes Hagrid really knew the perfect gifts to give. She wrapped it back up and put it aside. “Next?”

“Mine,” Hermione pushed several presents out from behind her and handed them out.

Heather opened hers quickly, excited to see what Hermione had found after she had told her she wanted a nice pot. She rolled out the object and gasped at the beautifully painted silver pot. It was small enough to hold in one hand but large enough to grow a good sized large-leafed plant. “It’s amazing!”

“Thanks,” Hermione smiled. “I painted it myself – but don’t worry. I made sure the paint wouldn’t mess with the charms.”

She looked at the pot again with new eyes. “Charms?” She hadn’t even considered that wizard pots would have charms and spells put on them.

“Yeah. The witch said this one is good for beginners because it creates the perfect environment for the plant so it’s harder to kill it.”

Heather raised a brow. “Thanks for your confidence in my herbology abilities. You know I got a better score than you on my giant hogweed plant last week.”

“What are you trying to say with this, Hermione?” Harry lifted a long orange comb. He pressed a button and the teeth started moving like on a chainsaw.

Ron laughed. “Alright, I agree with her on that gift for you.”

Heather laughed and poked a very unamused Harry with currently long and untidy, shaggy hair. Ron had received a bag of candy and a bottle of grammar ink and it was now his turn to give them each a can of butterbeer. They opened them up and drank while they unwrapped Heather’s presents that were actually rocks but painted to look like their faces. They laughed at that and opened Harry’s next, which were some left over vanilla cakes from Honeydukes.

Ron who was already stuffing his face with a vanilla cake pointed at a long thin package forgotten under the coffee table. “Harry, you forgot that one.”

“Oh.” Harry bent down and placed it on the table, moving all his presents aside. “It doesn’t have a note.”

“Who’d send just you a present?” Heather crossed her arms, feeling a ‘famous Harry Potter’ moment coming on.

Harry smiled and wriggled his eyebrows. “Jealous?”

“Maybe if you’d open it,” Ron handed him one end of the twine holding the brown paper together.

Harry pulled the twine free and slid out the present, gasping as a brand new slim and shiny broomstick hit the table. “I don’t… I can’t believe…”

Heather’s jaw dropped and Ron almost jumped out of his seat. Hermione took the paper and immediately started looking for a note.

“A new broom? Why? How? Who – ?” Heather ran her finger down the handle and gasped, feeling electricity run through her body, immediately reminding her of the feeling of wind through her long tangle-y hair.

Harry only shrugged and picked it up, the handle glittered as it moved, perfectly polished. The firebolt was identical to the one Harry had been looking at during their stay at Diagon Alley. He stood up and Heather with him, followed by Ron, all eager to see it in action. Harry let go suddenly and the broom stayed hovering in the air, ready to be mounted and used to surely win any Quidditch game against anyone.

“It’s amazing,” said Harry hoarsely.

“But, but who sent it?” Hermione was now retracing Harry’s steps, yelling from the bottom steps a few feet away. She ran upstairs looking all over the ground. “It’s not your aunt and uncle, right?”

“No way,” Heather and Harry unisoned.

Ron took a step closer and started walking around it, taking in every detail. “Must have been Dumbledore then! Like with your invisibility cloak!”

Heather shook her head, getting pushed by Harry. The three of them were now walking around the broom. “No, he only did that because it was our father’s.”

“Or,” Ron continued, “It is from him, but he can’t say it’s from him because then gits like Malfoy would say it’s favoritism!”

Heather stopped and Harry and Ron bumped into one another. “That WOULD be favoritism.”

Ron wasn’t listening. He pulled Harry’s sweater sleeve, “Wait ‘till Malfoy sees this! He’ll get as red as a tomato seeing you fly on this thing! It cost more than all the Slytherin brooms combined! And FASTER.”

“If it’s even allowed,” Heather was starting to panic now. This broom was the fastest out there. Any team who played against Harry would surely lose in under a minute. “This broom might not – ”

Ron crossed his arms and faced her, “It’s an internationally standard broom, this is. Malfoy. Will. FREAK.”

Harry’s smile widened, lighting up his eyes. “This… This is great!”

Ron started jumping up and down and hooting with glee. Heather crossed her arms and sank into one of the chairs, throwing a pillow down angrily. She’d never hear the end of this now. What little popularity she’d started to cultivate in her house would surely all whisk away the moment any of them saw Harry’s new broom. They’d all look at her like it was her own fault he got the better broom. And she could hear it now from Pansy and Draco, ‘Why’d we get the worse twin in our house,’ and ‘Can’t you try not to be a failure for once, Heather?”

How was she supposed to compete when every wizard, baby and old, knew and loved Harry Potter, the boy who lived, defeater of You-Know-Who. For all they knew it could have been a random fan who heard Harry broke his broom from a dementor attack. She sighed and crossed her arms, kicking at the pillow she’d thrown down.

Ron was still laughing when an even worse thought popped into her head. She was the one who convinced her team not to play last match! With Harry’s new broom, everyone will be wishing they’d played him before he broke it! Now that really was her fault. She squeezed her cheeks, zoning out on the broom, and pulled them down in agony. She was doomed.

“What,” Ron tried ceasing his laughing fit. “What about Lupin!”

Harry pulled his arm back from the broom and laughed. “Lupin? If he had this much gold, he’d buy himself new robes.”

Ron shook his head. “But he likes you! Besides he went somewhere, so he could have gone to Diagon Alley. Maybe he heard what happened and decided to buy it for you while he was out.”

Heather tuned back in. “Went somewhere? Went where? He was sick the whole time.”

Ron shrugged. “Well he wasn’t in the hospital wing. I had to clean the bedpans for Snape’s detention before I could go to the match. And after your match, he still wasn’t there.”

“He must have been sick in bed.” Heather rolled her eyes. It was so easy for Ron and Harry to jump to conclusions. It certainly wasn’t Lupin who sent the broom.

Hermione came back down with a look of worry. “I searched under your beds and the note didn’t fall in there.” She’d been searching for a dropped card the whole time they were examining the broom.

“Alright.” Ron narrowed his eyes at her.

She bit her lip. “Not alright… I mean… It’s weird. Like you’ve been saying, it’s an expensive broom… It’s odd that Harry would just receive one.”

Ron stepped forward. “Loads of people love Harry! Any one of them could’ve gifted the broom.”

“But who would want to keep it anonymous that they sent it?”

Ron must have guessed where she was going because he quickly turned to Harry. “Can I ride it? Let’s go test it out outside! Play with Fang again.”

“No!” Hermione put her hands up. “N-not yet! None of us should ride it yet.”

“Well what else should we do with it, Hermione? Sweep the floors?” Ron scoffed.

Before Hermione could get mad at Ron, they heard banging and tumbling coming from the boy’s dormitories. They all turned towards the sound.

“You didn’t leave the door open, did you!” Ron ran for the stairs. “Scabbers!”

Hermione looked apologetic and ran after Ron. “Crookshanks is just playing!”

Heather remained seated, looking at the broom. Harry went back to inspecting the golden engraving.

From upstairs they could hear Ron yelling. “GET. THAT. MONSTER. OUT. OF. HERE!”

“NO CROOKSHANKS, DON’T GET IN THERE!”

There was a high pitched warbling noise suddenly. Heather and Harry ran up to see what had happened. Heather clapped her hands to her ears and stared inside Harry’s trunk. Crookshanks was hiding and Scabbers was trying to dig further into Ron’s pocket, trying to get away from the noise.

“Ah,” Harry picked up a round object – the pocket sneakoscope – and stuffed it into a sock. It was still going so he shoved it under as many clothes as possible until it was barely audible.

Hermione took the chance to pick Crookshanks up as he recovered from hissing at the noise. “There, I’ve got him.”

Ron pointed at the door. “Great. Then get him out!”

“You don’t have to yell!”

“Just keep that bloody vicious monster away from my rat! He’s trying to eat him, Hermione! Not play! They aren’t pals!”

Hermione huffed and ran out of the room.

Ron slammed the door shut and took Scabbers out, putting him on his bed. “It’s alright, that evil creature’s out now.”

Heather eyed Scabbers and shared a look with Harry. As much as Ron was trying to keep him alive, it looked like Scabbers would soon pass naturally anyways. Once so round, he was now thin as toothpicks. His hair was in patches and his ears drooped. He normally would have scampered away and now lay on the bed, unable to gather the energy to bolt – although that may have been because minutes ago he was running for his life. But still. He didn’t look good.

“Have you been giving him that rat tonic?” She didn’t think it’d help much if he was. She doubted the tonic could put off death.

“Yeah, but it’s not helping.”

Harry sat down on the bed next to him. “Maybe it’s just stress,” he put a hand on Ron’s shoulder.

Ron nodded and tucked Scabbers into bed. “You rest. That stupid furball with teeth is gone.”

They left the boy’s dormitiories and Ron shut the door tight. They walked downstairs to Hermione, who was sitting with her arms crossed.

“Crookshanks is in my room. I’ve closed the door.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

Ron was being unnecessarily harsh but no one said anything. Hermione really should be more careful with that cat. Heather sat down on the couch and looked at the fire, staring at Harry’s broom as darkly as Hermione was.

She was trying to come up with plans to get him to not use it. But none seemed fair or plausible. His Head of House would obviously be more than happy to let him use it… and Professor McGonagall would surely fight anyone who suggested it was unfair. Not like Professor Snape would help her with the problem, even if it did concern his own team. He’d probably help Harry just to spite her…

She shook her head. No, he hated Harry more, he’d choose her over him any day. And Lupin wouldn’t do anything, he liked them both equally. She couldn’t owl Draco either, since he wasn’t supposed to know. She creased her eyebrows, getting really worried now. What if she got kicked off the team for ruining their chances?

For the second year in a row they’d lose the House Cup because of her. Well, she sunk deeper in her brooding state, last year wasn’t her fault either. She didn’t know she was picking the wrong tunnel, just like she didn’t know he’d receive a brand new broom – best in the world broom. Marcus would understand… wouldn’t he?

No. She could see it now. Cassius standing up on the crystal coffee table, right before the team left for practice. ‘Are you sure you want a traitor like Potter on your team Flint? She planned this. She KNEW Harry Potter would get a better broom. She’s one of them! She wishes she was a Gryffindor. She’s betrayed us.’ Marcus would turn to her and only shake his head, indicating her permanent termination from the team.

All the small friendships she had started to grow would be put out in an instant, too. No one would want to be friends with the Slytherin House’s personal enemy. Even the girl who sleeps next to her, the nice one she’d found out, whose name is Cindy and let her borrow a few berries to give to her toad, would ignore her. If even Cindy would ignore her, she could only imagine how bad Pansy would get.

Pansy would start bullying her again, but worse. Before she’d just be annoying and no one would care. Now her mean spirited jokes would make her more popular. Heather shuddered to think.

Harry wiped a soft cloth over the broom’s handle where Ron touched it. Heather frowned at them. But she wasn’t going to sabotage Harry’s chance at playing on a broom. She couldn’t. Could she? Maybe she could just tell him how bad this would be for her. Have him use her broom and hide that one away until next year or something. She closed her eyes in frustration, realizing why it wouldn’t work. But they had to play each other eventually! Thanks to her stupid dumb plan from earlier!

She should have kept her mouth shut. Then Marcus would have a losing team and Heather would not be associated with it at all. Next year he would’ve stayed clear of Cassius for sure, thinking he was some sort of bad luck.

She had a sudden realization. She wondered… could she hint at Draco to get a broom like that before he came back to Hogwarts? Harry and Ron were still wordlessly drooling and Hermione was still brooding in her corner, glaring at the poor broom.

Heather got up. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to put my things away before lunch.” No one said anything as she picked up her bag full of presents and left the room. She closed the portrait and ran down the steps.

She bolted down the main floor corridor and took the dungeon steps two at a time, knocking into something so hard they both fell down.

“Potter!”

She stood up quickly and jumped back against the wall, quivering at the familiar deep voice that had just yelled.

Professor Snape shook his long hair slightly and dusted off angrily. He stood towering like he normally did when a student mouthed off to him. “Next time I hear or see you running down those stairs you will receive a day’s detention for every step.”

Her brain was numb with adrenaline and for some reason the only thing she could think to say was, “There’re thirty-six steps.”

He frowned and looked at the stairs. “Then that’s thirty-six days of detention you’ll be facing… So don’t do it again. You’re lucky I wasn’t carrying any potions or I’d have you clean the whole dungeon floor before dinner.”

Heather nodded and fixed her stance. She realized her arms were spread on the wall like she was being cornered by a ferocious wild cat of the mountains. She pulled her bag closer. “Sorry, Sir.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why all the rush, Potter.”

“Just… need to send Draco a letter. As soon as possible.”

He arched his brow but said nothing. He turned, apparently deciding the interrogation was over, and swept up the stairs.

Heather breathed out, amazed she hadn’t gotten expelled right then. Maybe it was a sign things couldn’t possibly get any worse. She smiled and ran to the common room door. She wrote a quick letter, trying to stealthily hint at Draco to buy the newest broom and ran back out – walked up the steps – and ran all the way to the owlery to pick the perfect owl to send.

She made it back just in time to climb a few stairs and bump into Harry, Ron, and Hermione on their way to lunch.

“Why’re you sweating?” Harry stopped and stared.

She shrugged, “I bumped into Professor Snape… I thought he’d expel me for it. He didn’t.”

That was enough for them so they headed down to lunch together in the same quiet silence as the morning had ended up being.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

                          Chapter List

<-- Last chapter                       Next chapter -->

-----

@lokilover-39

@halcyonrogers

@krazykatkay456

@lady-of-black-roses

@writingmi

-----

rating wow expansions

7. warlords of draenor (unironically). honestly, i enjoyed the tanaan jungle introductory quests, but after i went through the wod introduction, it just kinda,, flopped? i just chilled in my garrison for most of the time and since it was such a bother to traverse through draenor, especially when i didn’t have a pathfinder, i literally just did dungeons in order to finally get to legion. i admit that it was a beautiful world, but that was all ruined by the fact that there were stupid orcs attacking every time i stepped out of my garrison. the dungeons were depressing and i didn’t enjoy them.  6. burning crusade. this was a cool world, i guess? my main problem with outland was that it was dismal. every time i stepped into shattrath i wanted to burst into tears. even nagrand was depressing! nagrand! yeah, the nice happy place with a blue sky and floating islands with the greenest grass you’ve ever seen? yeah, that was ruined by a bunch of freaking death and fear camps. even with flying, it was still a pain to traverse - it took me ten minutes just to get across zangarmarsh. the quests in hellfire penninsula were a bunch of forage and kill quests that made me hearth back to stormwind after two minutes. also, i don’t get the stupid thing with the draenei and blood elves in shattrath. can they just chill for a sec? gosh. 5. cataclysm. i actually liked this, i think? mount hyjal was a great zone and fun to quest through. deepholm and vashj’ir were cool too, but a menace to quest through. i much prefer nazjatar to vashj’ir, especially because swimming made it so annoying. i liked the dungeons and the firelands raid is one of my favorites. i think it kind of messed up in-gameplay lore - even today i’ll be questing and hear about a village that is “still being rebuilt after deathwing” with no evidence of being rebuilt. i don’t think this was a horrible expansion, and i enjoyed the caverns of time and dragon stuff. chromie is a cinnamon roll <3 4. battle for azeroth. i really liked the zones like nazjatar, zandalar, and stormsong valley. in game, i think this whole “fAcTiOn wAr” thing was unnecessary and the alliance and horde should just put on their big boi pants and do something about azeroth. the two sides fighting over azerite were reminiscent of two toddlers fighting over candy. i think the lore and art was good, though, and dungeons were awesome! except tol dagor. tol dagor can go die in a pit or something. 3. mists of pandaria. an april fool’s joke turned real, this is like my dream as a kid. who doesn’t want to go sit on a giant turtle and hug a bunch of fluffy pandas? the zones were beautiful and so were the raids, and the mounts and professions were awesome! i think that some stuff got a little repetitive and grindy, and daily quests got tiring fast, but otherwise it’s a top tier expanison. 2. wrath of the lich king. i was originally going to put this first, but i had to choose one for second place. wrath of the lich king was awesome. it was mostly consistent with lore, it had a pretty cohesive storyline, and the ambience was awesome. questing was fun and quests also had their own storyline - they also took you all over northrend, which may have been a bother sometimes, but if you knew the routes, it was great! also wotlk dungeons and raids were awesome, and if you didn’t cry during the cinematic after ice cream citadel then you’re probably a bot. 1. and finally we get to legion. legion was the bounce-back after WoD. the opening quests were fire (though i am a little mad they killed off my boi tirion). i loved the artifact quests, and if you don’t have respect for resto druids already, you will after having to complete the g’hanir artifact quest. the broken isles were beautiful and the quests were fun and easy, and the dungeons and raids were so fun! legion really makes you feel like a hero, and that’s great.

n e ways if you need to reach me i’ll be in my room sobbing because shadowlands isn’t here yet

German in English wie as ich I seine his dass that er he war was für for auf on sind are mit with sie they sein be bei at ein one haben have dies this aus from durch by heiß hot Wort word aber but was what einige some ist is es it Sie you oder or hatte had die the von of zu to und and ein a bei in wir we können can aus out andere other waren were die which tun do ihre their Zeit time wenn if werden will wie how sagte said ein an jeder each sagen tell tut does Satz set drei three wollen want Luft air gut well auch also spielen play klein small Ende end setzen put Zuhause home lesen read seits hand Hafen port groß large buchstabieren spell hinzufügen add auch even Lande land hier here muss must groß big hoch high so such folgen follow Akt act warum why fragen ask Männer men Veränderung change ging went Licht light Art kind aus off müssen need Haus house Bild picture versuchen try uns us wieder again Tier animal Punkt point Mutter mother Welt world in der Nähe von near bauen build selbst self Erde earth Vater father jeder any neu new Arbeit work Teil part nehmen take erhalten get Ort place gemacht made leben live wo where nach after zurück back wenig little nur only Runde round Mann man Jahr year kam came zeigen show jeder every gut good mir me geben give unsere our unter under Name name sehr very durch through nur just Formular form Satz sentence groß great denken think sagen say Hilfe help niedrig low Linie line abweichen differ wiederum turn Ursache cause viel much bedeuten mean vor before Umzug move Recht right Junge boy alt old zu too gleich same sie she alle all da there wenn when nach oben up Verwendung use Ihre your Weg way über about viele many dann then sie them schreiben write würde would wie like so so diese these sie her lange long machen make Sache thing sehen see ihm him zwei two hat has suchen look mehr more Tag day könnte could gehen go kommen come tat did Anzahl number klingen sound nicht no am meisten most Menschen people meine my über over wissen know Wasser water als than Anruf call erste first die who können may nach unten down Seite side gewesen been jetzt now finden find Kopf head stehen stand besitzen own Seite page sollte should Land country gefunden found Antwort answer Schule school wachsen grow Studie study noch still lernen learn Anlage plant Abdeckung cover Lebensmittel food Sonne sun vier four zwischen between Zustand state halten keep Auge eye nie never letzte last lassen let Gedanken thought Stadt city Baum tree überqueren cross Bauernhof farm schwer hard Beginn start Macht might Geschichte story Säge saw weit far Meer sea ziehen draw links left spät late laufen run unterlassen Sie don’t während while Presse press Schließen close Nacht night realen real Leben life wenige few Norden north Buch book tragen carry nahm took Wissenschaft science essen eat Zimmer room Freund friend begann began Idee idea Fisch fish berg mountain Stopp stop einmal once Basis base hören hear Pferd horse Schnitt cut sicher sure beobachten watch Farbe color Gesicht face Holz wood Haupt- main geöffnet open scheinen seem zusammen together nächste next weiß white Kinder children Start begin bekam got gehen walk Beispiel example erleichtern ease Papier paper Gruppe group immer always Musik music diejenigen those beide both Marke mark oft often Schreiben letter bis until Meile mile Fluss river Auto car Füße feet Pflege care zweite second genug enough Ebene plain Mädchen girl üblich usual jung young bereit ready oben above je ever rot red Liste list obwohl though fühlen feel Vortrag talk Vogel bird bald soon Körper body Hund dog Familie family direkt direct Pose pose verlassen leave Lied song messen measure Tür door Produkt product schwarz black kurz short Zahl numeral Klasse class Wind wind Frage question passieren happen vollständig complete Schiff ship Bereich area Hälfte half Stein rock bestellen order Feuer fire Süden south Problem problem Stück piece sagte told wusste knew passieren pass seit since obere top ganze whole König king Straße street Zoll inch multiplizieren multiply nichts nothing Kurs course bleiben stay Rad wheel voll full Kraft force blau blue Objekt object entscheiden decide Oberfläche surface tief deep Mond moon Insel island Fuß foot System system beschäftigt busy Prüfung test Rekord record Boot boat gemeinsam common goldenen gold möglich possible Flugzeug plane statt stead trocken dry Wunder wonder Lachen laugh tausend thousand vor ago lief ran überprüfen check Spiel game Form shape gleichsetzen equate heiß hot Fehl miss gebracht brought Wärme heat Schnee snow Reifen tire bringen bring ja yes entfernt distant füllen fill Osten east malen paint Sprache language unter among Einheit unit Macht power Stadt town fein fine sicher certain fliegen fly fallen fall führen lead Schrei cry dunkel dark Maschine machine note note warten wait Plan plan Abbildung figure Stern star Kasten box Nomen noun Feld field Rest rest richtig correct fähig able Pfund pound getan done Schönheit beauty Antriebs drive stand stood enthalten contain Front front lehren teach Woche week Finale final gab gave grün green oh oh schnell quick entwickeln develop Ozean ocean warme warm kostenlos free Minute minute stark strong besondere special Geist mind hinter behind klar clear Schwanz tail produzieren produce Tatsache fact Raum space gehört heard beste best Stunde hour besser better wahr true während during hundert hundred fünf five merken remember Schritt step früh early halten hold Westen west Boden ground Interesse interest erreichen reach schnell fast Verbum verb singen sing hören listen sechs six Tabelle table Reise travel weniger less Morgen morning zehn ten einfach simple mehrere several Vokal vowel auf toward Krieg war legen lay gegen against Muster pattern schleppend slow Zentrum center Liebe love Person person Geld money dienen serve erscheinen appear Straße road Karte map regen rain Regel rule regieren govern ziehen pull Kälte cold Hinweis notice Stimme voice Energie energy Jagd hunt wahrscheinlich probable Bett bed Bruder brother Ei egg Fahrt ride Zelle cell glauben believe vielleicht perhaps pflücken pick plötzlich sudden zählen count Platz square Grund reason Dauer length vertreten represent Kunst art Thema subject Region region Größe size variieren vary regeln settle sprechen speak Gewicht weight allgemein general Eis ice Materie matter Kreis circle Paar pair umfassen include Kluft divide Silbe syllable Filz felt groß grand Kugel ball noch yet Welle wave fallen drop Herz heart Uhr am vorhanden present schwer heavy Tanz dance Motor engine Position position Arm arm breit wide Segel sail Material material Fraktion fraction Wald forest sitzen sit Rennen race Fenster window Speicher store Sommer summer Zug train Schlaf sleep beweisen prove einsam lone Bein leg Übung exercise Wand wall Fang catch Berg mount wünschen wish Himmel sky Board board Freude joy Winter winter sa sat geschrieben written wilden wild Instrument instrument gehalten kept Glas glass Gras grass Kuh cow Arbeit job Rand edge Zeichen sign Besuch visit Vergangenheit past weich soft Spaß fun hell bright Gases gas Wetter weather Monat month Million million tragen bear Finish finish glücklich happy hoffen hope blume flower kleiden clothe seltsam strange Vorbei gone Handel trade Melodie melody Reise trip Büro office empfangen receive Reihe row Mund mouth genau exact Zeichen symbol sterben die am wenigsten least Ärger trouble Schrei shout außer except schrieb wrote Samen seed Ton tone beitreten join vorschlagen suggest sauber clean Pause break Dame lady Hof yard steigen rise schlecht bad Schlag blow Öl oil Blut blood berühren touch wuchs grew Cent cent mischen mix Mannschaft team Draht wire Kosten cost verloren lost braun brown tragen wear Garten garden gleich equal gesendet sent wählen choose fiel fell passen fit fließen flow Messe fair Bank bank sammeln collect sparen save Kontrolle control dezimal decimal Ohr ear sonst else ganz quite pleite broke Fall case Mitte middle töten kill Sohn son See lake Moment moment Maßstab scale laut loud Frühling spring beobachten observe Kind child gerade straight Konsonant consonant Nation nation Wörterbuch dictionary milch milk Geschwindigkeit speed Verfahren method Orgel organ zahlen pay Alter age Abschnitt section Kleid dress Wolke cloud Überraschung surprise ruhig quiet Stein stone winzig tiny Aufstieg climb kühlen cool Entwurf design arm poor Menge lot Versuch experiment Boden bottom Schlüssel key Eisen iron Einzel single Stick stick Wohnung flat zwanzig twenty Haut skin Lächeln smile Falte crease Loch hole springen jump Kind baby acht eight Dorf village treffen meet Wurzel root kaufen buy erhöhen raise lösen solve Metall metal ob whether drücken push sieben seven Absatz paragraph dritte third wird shall Hand held Haar hair beschreiben describe Koch cook Boden floor entweder either Ergebnis result brennen burn Hügel hill sicher safe Katze cat Jahrhundert century betrachten consider Typ type Gesetz law Bit bit Küste coast Kopie copy Ausdruck phrase still silent hoch tall Sand sand Boden soil Rolle roll Temperatur temperature Finger finger Industrie industry Wert value Kampf fight Lüge lie schlagen beat begeistern excite natürlich natural Blick view Sinn sense Hauptstadt capital wird nicht won’t Stuhl chair Achtung danger Obst fruit reich rich dick thick Soldat soldier Prozess process betreiben operate Praxis practice trennen separate schwierig difficult Arzt doctor Bitte please schützen protect Mittag noon Ernte crop modernen modern Elementes element treffen hit Schüler student Ecke corner Partei party Versorgung supply deren whose lokalisieren locate Rings ring Charakter character insekt insect gefangen caught Zeit period zeigen indicate Funk radio Speiche spoke Atom atom Mensch human Geschichte history Wirkung effect elektrisch electric erwarten expect Knochen bone Schiene rail vorstellen imagine bieten provide zustimmen agree so thus sanft gentle Frau woman Kapitän captain erraten guess erforderlich necessary scharf sharp Flügel wing schaffen create Nachbar neighbor Wasch wash Fledermaus bat eher rather Menge crowd mais corn vergleichen compare Gedicht poem Schnur string Glocke bell abhängen depend Fleisch meat einreiben rub Rohr tube berühmt famous Dollar dollar Strom stream Angst fear Blick sight dünn thin Dreieck triangle Erde planet Eile hurry Chef chief Kolonie colony Uhr clock Mine mine Krawatte tie eingeben enter Dur major frisch fresh Suche search senden send gelb yellow Pistole gun erlauben allow Druck print tot dead Stelle spot Wüste desert Anzug suit Strom current Aufzug lift stiegen rose ankommen arrive Stamm master Spur track Elternteil parent Ufer shore Teilung division Blatt sheet Substanz substance begünstigen favor verbinden connect nach post verbringen spend Akkord chord Fett fat froh glad Original original Aktie share Station station Papa dad Brot bread aufladen charge richtig proper Leiste bar Angebot offer Segment segment Sklave slave ente duck Augenblick instant Markt market Grad degree besiedeln populate küken chick liebe dear Feind enemy antworten reply Getränk drink auftreten occur Unterstützung support Rede speech Natur nature Angebot range Dampf steam Bewegung motion Weg path Flüssigkeit liquid protokollieren log gemeint meant Quotient quotient Gebiss teeth Schale shell Hals neck Sauerstoff oxygen Zucker sugar Tod death ziemlich pretty Geschicklichkeit skill Frauen women Saison season Lösung solution Magnet magnet Silber silver danken thank Zweig branch Spiel match Suffix suffix insbesondere especially Feige fig ängstlich afraid riesig huge Schwester sister Stahl steel diskutieren discuss vorwärts forward ähnlich similar führen guide Erfahrung experience Partitur score apfel apple gekauft bought geführt led Tonhöhe pitch Mantel coat Masse mass Karte card Band band Seil rope Rutsch slip gewinnen win träumen dream Abend evening Zustand condition Futtermittel feed Werkzeug tool gesamt total Basis basic Geruch smell Tal valley noch nor doppelt double Sitz seat fortsetzen continue Block block Tabelle chart Hut hat verkaufen sell Erfolg success Firma company subtrahieren subtract Veranstaltung event besondere particular viel deal schwimmen swim Begriff term Gegenteil opposite Frau wife Schuh shoe Schulter shoulder Verbreitung spread arrangieren arrange Lager camp erfinden invent Baumwolle cotton geboren born bestimmen determine Quart quart neun nine Lastwagen truck Lärm noise Ebene level Chance chance sammeln gather Geschäft shop Stretch stretch werfen throw Glanz shine Immobilien property Spalte column Molekül molecule wählen select falsch wrong grau gray Wiederholung repeat erfordern require breit broad vorbereiten prepare Salz salt Nase nose mehreren plural Zorn anger Anspruch claim Kontinent continent