#''if i don't flip the card i can pretend it's not another red one''

[theflyingfeeling]

that moment Olli had finally lost all sense of security in this game

[cuppakasha]

I wrote a collaborative short story with my friend about a homesteading half-dragon cowboy. It was pretty much paragraph-by-paragraph, so I'm pretty happy with the overall consistency!

--- The Korv's Gulch Incident

A black knife collected dark soot from under my cracked fingernail. Smoke hazed the warm-tinted lantern overheard.

"I ain't got nothing," Rho-Odi said, tossing his hand to the table.

"I'll check," said Eriat.

I glanced at my cards. A wyern triple and a couple of drakes.

"Raise ya ten," I said, and tossed my chips to the middle.

Eriat snorted, tapping his back hoof against some of the mess kit near their applebox table. The dingy copper pans rang out hollowly—they didn't have any advice to give the old mare on this game of blackbrand. He eyed the line of face up cards on the table, then back to his hand, then up to my face to meet my gaze.

"Get on, now. Ya gonna check again or drop?" I winked. Eriat was good, but could be easily riled.

"Check, ya liar. And damn yer mom too." He tossed in the ten coins.

Maurice flipped two and laid them faceup on the table. A kingfisher came first... another wyvern next. I glanced at my hand to confirm what I was seeing.

"Raise ya," I said. "Twenty."

It was a still a big bluff, but Eriat didn't know that. From the other side of the table Rho-Odi snorted and shook his head.

Eriat grumbled, increasingly agitated, and swished his tail back and forth. "Damn fool. You ain't got nothing," he said. But he hesitated, staring at his hand, readable as a book in my hand.

"Fine, I'll raise ya," he said finally. "But you know I ain't betting no twenty coppers."

"What else you got that's worth that much?" I asked.

"Oh, don't pretend like you don't know."

“Lighten up, you old ass, it’s just one shot of moonshine. You said it yourself, worth about twenty coppers. And that's if someone’s feelin’ generous.”

“Ride me, Ruvik. You know how damn well how much it’s worth,” Eriat glowered, then turned to fish something out of one of the woven satchels on his back. He started muttering again, as he usually did on the touchy subject of his magic-infused moonshine: about bad deals and bad blood, the streets of Ironrunnel lined with wolves and racist slickbacks, the accursed Sir Jack Nackard (“damn whoreson, maggots take that swindler!”), how his liquor should be worth at least three times as much…

“…everyone was fine with magic when they thought it was from humans,” he grumbled. “Now I’m haulin’ a wagon with a jackass,” he punctuated by slamming a shot glass onto the table, rattling the chips. “Maurice, deal the damn river already."

“Yessir, comin’ up,” he smirked, barely containing a toothy smile on his scruffy face. With a flick, he revealed the final card: seven thunderbirds, glowing red under the hazy lamplight. I hummed and crossed my foot— yes, I did have a good play and not an absolutely mediocre hand.

“Check,” I said calmly, throwing in another twenty coppers. I look across to Eriat, strongly resisting the urge to grin. He’s absolutely crestfallen, clearly having banked on that river after getting reckless. His eyes dart to me and back to his cards, again and again. I can see the calculations running through his head: Does he have a straight run? Two pair duchy? Badlands flush? No, he's a fool. But is this worth a second shot of shine just in case he's got that magic hand…

Maurice reached an avocado colored hand under the table and stoically pulled out a black crystal.

"The eye of onyx," he said.

"Aw, hell yes! Don't even matter if you were lying, Ruvik, you scaly bitch! Whoo!"

"No way," Rho-Odi said. "Lemme see."

Eriat flashed Rho-Odi a glance at his hand and they shared a laugh.

"A wrym of stix," said Maurice. I cursed quietly and took back out my knife to scrape dirt from a new fingernail.

But Maurice reached for something under the table again. "The talon of sapphire."

I shot a look at the cards, and then a look at Eriat who had lost some of his enthusiasm. I grinned and flipped my cards upright.

Rho-Odi lost himself to a fit of cackles, his grey beard shaking as he slapped the table.

I reached over the table and shoveled the pile toward me.

Eriat, dumbstruck, threw his hand on the table. Three wyrms and the onyx.

"Liar...damn liar! I knew it! I'm gonna hang and skin you by your draconkind taint!"

Eriat slammed his hands onto the table. I reeled and fell backwards, coins sliding off onto my prone body. The three of us erupted into laughter, guffawing as Eriat trotted away past the lamplight and into the darkness behind the wagon.

"I suppose we're calling it," Rho-Odi said, offering me his clawed hand. I take it, coppers clattering from my chest onto the dirt.

"I suppose we are, but the centaur still owes me a drink."

"You already robbed the old man, Ruvik," Maurice said. He started to gather his cards on the table. "Y'know, there's this scripture from the monastery that comes to mind. 'Leaveth boiled water to cool lest you get burned, and do not be-ith a cunt.'"

"Wise words," I chuckled, sorting out the cards left on the table into their suits before stacking them the way Maurice likes them: black wyrms, red thunderbirds, yellow kingfishers, blue wyverns, green drakes..."I'll help clean up the mess from supper, that ought to get me on Eriat's good side."

"Hope so," Rho-Odi said, untangling some of his beard from his chipped jaw scales. "We got a job to finish tomorrow, and still a fair amount of walking between here and Vorkstead. I'd prefer it be without added grumbling and curses."

----

I stuffed away the last of the cookware into its respective satchel when Eriat beckoned me from the corner of my eye towards the back of the wagon. He was still scowling when he lifted up a loose board in the bed, revealing several glowing glass bottles neatly tucked away and sealed with waxes and corks. "Now you get to choose one, and I mean one shot of liquor. Otherwise it could mix down your gullet all wrong and we get an accident like last time."

"You had to bring up Lubbarillo."

Eriat flicked his flaxen tail and looked away, pretending to be disinterested. "Just don't mix the H'siri cream with the salted crumberbean this time."

I tipped a couple bottles to read the labels. A bottles or two of fuegoshine, one with gold flecks, one without, and a bottle of Songs of Sirenity. The sunwash spilled golden light over four bottles of sludgy irredescent cream... probably distilled polar camels milk.

A sour taste in my mouth, I moved on to sifting through the 1oz bottles set aside in a crate.

"Gently, gently," Eriat said. "Those are in alphabetical order and if Diamanda sees one out of place she'll turn my feet cloven."

I spotted a bottle toward the back corner while he complained and reached for it, the 1 oz bottles forgotten. Unlike many of the shines in the collection, this one didn't glow, but it was reflective, catching the spill of warmth from the fuego and sunwash.

It was metallic blue and pink, like tempered steel turned liquid.

"Ah, I knew it," Eriat said. "I knew you were gonna go picking that up."

"Is this blood blend?" I asked.

"Yeah, it is. And you wanna know how much that goes for? Fifteen gold. Fifteen a shot."

"Done," I said.

"No, not done. I can't give that too you."

"We agreed to a shot."

"We agreed to a shot worth twenty coppers."

"Not specified."

Eriat stamped a hoof, and the nearby crickets silenced suddenly.

"I knew it. I knew you were gonna do this," he said, and he whipped a shot glass from a stack of clean ones.

"I want it to go, if'n ya don't mind."

Eriat nearly knocked off his hat when he slammed the shot glass back in it's place. "Oh, to go now. He wants it to go....gotta get a fuckin' bottle... not specified...."

With annoyance, but without a drop spilled, Eriat filled a 1 oz bottle with blood blend, stoppering it with a cork, and then dunked it in wax.

"'Preciate it," I said.

Eriat couldn't even bring himself to reply and he stomped off toward his tent.

I pulled out a rag from one of my belt pockets, wrapped it around the vial and stowed it away carefully. I returned to find Rho-Odi tending to the fire and Maurice retiring to his own tent.

"You still good for first watch?" Rho-Odi asked.

"'Course."

"Don't drink during your turn."

"No promises."

The older draconkind shook his head, throwing a branch onto the fire. "Just be sober until Maurice takes over. We're close to town but still in Korv's Gulch, hate for the job to get botched when we're so close to payday."

The vial suddenly felt heavier, and I remembered a fortuitous fifth of whiskey tucked away in my tent— we'll see. Perhaps a celebratory drink is in order for an uneventful job well done.

Rho-Odi and I sat in companionable silence for a while before he turned in with Anveria. I stood, stretched, and double checked my holsters.

Everything in place, I took first watch by walking a short distance up the gulch, stopping at my tent to grab the remainder of my whiskey.

Just above the campsite, and out of the glare of the dampening campfire, the stars shone, glittering like a smattering of fairy dust against black velvet. The dry, sweet smell of a distant alfalfa field drifted on a still-warm summer breeze. I sat on the grass, and tried to write in my pocket journal, but it was too dark, and eventually I gave it up in favor of sipping my whiskey.

After an hour or so I spotted a dark, wobbly shadow trot back to his tent. Eriat returning from an extra drink or two no doubt.

For a time, it was quiet.

I don't know why they didn't see me. Maybe I was too cloaked in shadow from my position, or maybe my scales reflected too little light.

Either way, a wrymling slithered directly by me, holding a curved blade in each hand. A bipedal companion followed further away, and since I was now looking for them, I spotted a snaking movement coming from a different direction, left of the tents.

I ducked low, hastily scrawling a rune in the dirt at my feet.

They slithered through the grass towards camp, curving around tumbleweeds and cacti like flowing bends of a dark river. They were close enough that I could hear various buckles tap against scaled hide, its breathing like the hiss of a silent steam machine. Quickly, carefully, I traced another curved line in the dust, then darted my eyes up to find the other intruders. The biped approached quickly, and I lost sight of the wyrm by the tents.

Fuck. I needed to fire a warning shot real soon, but I'll be wide open as soon as I do. I kept drawing, almost done. Just connect the horseshoe and clover, when you feel where you started drive a line straight down...

"Hmm?" said a husky humanoid voice, close. Unwilling shivers crawled up my spine. Weighty, spurred steps clacked closer. The brush crunched underneath. Closer, closer...

A final dash, and the earth grew warm under my gloved fingertip. A dark smoke poured forth from the completed rune, an inky and impossible darkness. It wrapped up my boots, my legs and arms, until my entire body was covered in starless void.

I unholstered my pistols and fired into the sky.

All at once my pistol produced an earsplitting crack, the rune on the ground flashed brilliantly dispersing the cloud of inky smoke, and the smoldering campfire burst back to life in a fountain of angry red sparks.

I confirmed that the spell had taken it's full effect, and then the whole camp was swallowed in impossibly thick smoke, clouding my vision.

The voice that I'd heard just before the spell started shouted behind me."What the- Radigan! Can you hear me?"

Radigan, whoever that was, may have answered, but other voices were responding now. Didn't matter. I was busy.

I knelt in the dirt at my feet and dipped my fingers in ash in the smoking trail where the rune had once been. I hastily marked a rune on my bare forearm, my sleeve pushed back.

I grit my teeth and muttered an ancient word.

Pink flames ate my flesh in the shape of the rune, searing my arm, and turning my muscles icily numb.

I blinked to adjust to my new vision. Around me, heat signatures lit up in the smoke. Red, orange, and blue shadows in the haze. The sparks of the campfire were like a beacon now.

I spun, locked onto a humanoid heat signature, and drew my guns. With a flick of my finger I fired once from the left hand and the figure dropped like a stone.

I saw a dozen heat signatures below me on the hill milling around like moths around the campfire.

"Eriat!" I shouted. He was easy to pick out. His horse chest was lit up like a beacon. I picked up my feet and sprinted down the hill, a snake-like form was boarding one of the wagons, though it was still unharnessed.

"Eriat, the wagon!" I shouted. He moved toward the cart with equine speed while I ran as fast as my booted legs would allow me over the clumps of grama grass.

In camp, I could make out several heat signatures, but faces were almost impossible to place in my vision, but I heard Anveria's voice ushering the children behind one of the carts for safety.

"Stay down!" I yelled at them, sprinting for Eriat and the wyrmling on the wagon.

"Maurice and I have 'em here," wheezed out Rho-Odi from somewhere. "Go, secure the cargo!"

The signatures around the cart were beginning to fizzle. Soon, the smoke charm would dissipate too. I sprinted towards the cart, searching again for Eriat. Shots rang out from the direction of the cart, and I saw a short red flash of Eriat duck behind something as he loaded what I assumed to be his shotgun. There was panicked yelling, coughing, clacking of spurs on dry grass, wyrmling swearing and hissing, and whinnying as a couple bandits managed to wrangle a couple loose horses to the cart. Another crack, and my left arm stung something fierce. I yelled out and saw a sickly green hole in my forearm, puncturing through my leather sleeve and even through my few arm scales.

"Ruvik!" Eriat called out, now rushing towards me from his cover. The smoke was a bit thinner now but so were the heat signatures. There was another crack, and I winced. But it wasn't gunfire, it sounded like horse reins. Damn it, if only the heatseek spell would last a bit longer.

"You alright, dumbass?" Eriat halted in front of me, then immediately saw my injury, now glowing a dark emerald color. He grabbed my arm with a hasty grip that caused me to yelp, then ripped off the bandana around my neck. The rest of the smoke dissipated as I had to watch the bandits ride further away on our cart, horses, and the job cargo while Eriat finished my ragtag tourniquet.

My wound burned, and I seethed. They won't get away on my watch.

"Let me go," I growled. "We gotta catch them.

The man on the ground that Eriat had managed to gun down groaned.

I grit my teeth and used my good arm to flip the man over.

"Will you ride with me?"

"'Course," Eriat said. "I'll grab a shot of sunwash. You want one?"

"No, not this time," I said.

"I'll grab mine," Eriat said. "Don't let that guy die, Ruvik."

"Oh, he ain't dying just yet."

I ripped the guy's shirt open down to his breastbone. His stomach bled profusely from a nasty peppering of buckshot.

I dipped two fingers in his ample blood, and then dipped them in my own wound.

I scrawled a marking just above the guy's heart, and then tossed some dirt across it.

With a hiss maroon flames seared his grimy skin.

Cartilage stretched, and bone crumpled, reshaped, unbound, reformed. The man's sin darkened to the color of charcoal, and his face bones ground together with a squeaking groan.

The blood wyvern wobbled on it's new legs and blinked unseeing red eyes.

I mounted up, and commanded it into the sky.

My wyvern, Xedras, shook out his sinewy wings, flinging fresh droplets of blood onto the thirsting earth. Eriat paled at my summon, but took no time to grumble as he downed the sunwash in the time I hauled into the air. Xedras took to his new form quickly as we soared through the night sky. The moon gave enough light to illuminate the stolen caravan and the four bandits - two wyrmlings, a human and a bison minotaur. But they noticed us too, and started shouting to one another as they cursed and fired into the sky. I reigned in Xedras and he pulled back into the air to get some distance. I felt myself slip against the still damp blood wyvern. He could still hear the gunshots, thankfully, but with so many shots focused on us it was difficult to do more than just hold on and pray. We needed something to get in close-

Then a glowing light, cutting across the prairie gulch like golden sunbeams carried forth from a break in a storm. It was Eriat, galloping about two feet above the ground at the speed of a storm wind. I could see that each time a hoof stepped, a puddle of light appeared beneath it like a drop of water breaking a still lake. The old stallion fired his gun at the bandits.

"Go for the flank!" Eriat yelled, ducking out of the way of a wyrmling rifle shot.

I dipped my fingers in my gunshot wound again, searing pain lighting up the wound. With grit teeth, I painted a symbol on Xedras's neck with my fingers.

Then with a nudge from my knees, Xedras tucked his wings and dropped like an arrow from the sky, his blind trust in my guidance complete as he snapped his wings open with a gentle tug on the reins. Just a handful of feet above the ground, I tapped my heels on the wyvern's sides and he surged underneath me until we were on the right flank of the cart.

Two of the men noticed that we had caught up, and one of the wrymlings raised a rifle. Eriat fired from somewhere on my left and the second one ducked behind a crate.

I hissed an ancient word and the symbol on Xedras's neck lit up, flaring with glowing, green smoke. Xedras roared, maw gaping, and a spray of lime colored acid coated the back of the cart. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but it splattered the wyrmling with green slime. He grit his teeth, but then opened them when he deemed himself safe. He took a shot.

Xedras, blind as a mole, took the slug head-on. Blood misted my face, and Xedras screeched as buckshot disintegrated half of his skull.

"Fuck," I said. I tapped his side and he surged ahead, screeching in confusion. I leapt from the back of the wyvern to the canvas cover on top of the cart just as Xedras dissolved into a cloud of dark mist, red droplets illuminated only by the lantern swinging wildly on the back on the cart.

I reached for the my bag and drew out the bottle of blood blend. At the same moment, the wrymling Xedras had sprayed with acid started screaming.

I began to break the wax seal of the bottle when the human driver looked back and saw me. As I lined up a pistol shot at him he veered the caravan left. I stumbled, gripping the blood blend tightly but dropping a pistol in the process. Just when I got my footing the caravan went right, this time sending me reeling off the other edge. I braced myself for hitting the ground, but instead I landed on Eriat’s back. My arm seared in pain but I managed to shift and hang on tightly to his neck. The wyrmling had collapsed, his screams turning to gurgling, but the minotaur cocked his shotgun at us. Eriat ducked and slowed down to get behind the wagon, dodging the minotaur’s fire.

Eriat picked up speed, and I could tell that he couldn’t handle my additional weight for long. I took the moment to finish breaking the seal of my vial and drank its contents. It tasted metallic, but I couldn’t tell if it was the blood blend or the spattered blood mist from Xedras. It went down warm and spread out from my chest down to my injured arm.

Eriat fired at the wagon, making the minotaur duck for cover as he sped up towards the back.

“Get yer fat ass back up there!” he said, offering his arm as support. I gladly took it as I dismounted and vaulted onto the wagon, almost slipping on the disintegrated wyrmling acid goo. In my periphery I saw Eriat speed off towards the front of the caravan in a flash of light. The bull peeked out from his hiding spot. I quickly drew my gun with a flick of my wrist and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Kukulkan, fuck me sideways.

The minotoar lifted his shotgun, put it to his eye.

I used empty gun and laid it flat against the opening of the barrel in the same fluid motion.

He fired.

My gun exploded in my hand leaving mangled metal embedded in my palm. White lightning pain flashed behind my corneas, and shock set in. Violently trembling, I dipped my gloved left hand in the acid puddle on the floor of the rattling wagon left by the man who'd been dissolved. The minotaur scrambled to his weighted cloven feet, dazed. My ears rang like cowbells while I scrawled a messy symbol in the acid, then on the sandalwood grip of the remains of my gun.

The minotaur lunged for me, swinging the butt of his shotgun like a club. I rolled behind a barrel tucked in a corner, and hissed a word at the same time. I blew on my gun as if to light kindling, and an ethereal ghost-like version formed in my hand, repairing the broken pieces. I reached for my gun belt and slotted the revolver with two rounds before I heard gunshots outside and a man screamed. The wagon lurched to the right and the standing minotaur tumbled, rocked the wagon as if it were made of a matchbox.

The blood blend had already started repairing my hand, and the wound in my left arm was almost sealed. I fumbled with the last of the bullets with slippery fingers.

Then I stood, aimed at the minotaur, and fired twice into his thick skull.

He lay still.

"Eriat!" I shouted. "Eriat! Stop the damn horses!"

"I'm tryin'!" the centaur shouted, and the wagon lurched again before it finally stopped.

I stumbled drunkenly from the wagon, covered in blood and slime. My clothes were smoking where I'd touched Xedras's acid and I stripped off my ruined gloves. All the while, the blood bend filled me with a deep sense of steely calm.

Eriat's hooves still glowed like the noonday sun.

"Well, howdy do," he said, considerably less soaked in grime.

I couldn't even bring myself to reply. Grim exhaustion bled into my lagging vision.

We stood side by side for a moment, watching the acid eat away the canvas and wood before we decided to unhitch the horses and extract the undamaged remains of the wagon.

----

Dawn crept up on the plains after the wild night. Took a while to haul back the wagon and clean up the contents from the bandits' joyride. Some merchandise was broken or shattered to shit but most was still in tact.

We pulled out the applebox table again, me and Rho-Odi lounging back in our chairs. I stretched out my arm, still sore as hell even after the blood blend worked its magic. A gentle breeze wafted the smell of the pyre Maurice built- he was no monk anymore, but still felt an obligation to tend to the dead. Even if to me they should've been left to feed the mangy crow griffins.

"Final round?" Maurice raised a brow as his bandaged hands held his deck of worn cards. I nodded, and Rho-Odi gave a sleepy, affirmative hum.

"I'm in," Eriat said, walking towards the table with a round bottle of vigormouth in hand. The other three of us pushed forward our chipped glasses and Eriat poured into them. The clear liquid smelled like daisies and some kind of berry.

"Absolute godsend, Erry," Maurice downed the drink immediately, straight with no chaser.

"Yeah, yeah," he harumphed and took a seat next to us, right by the mess kit as usual.

I swirled the spirit in my hand. I stared into it. "Thanks, Eriat. I'll pay off my tab when we get paid. And I'll pay everything, proper."

"M'hmmm," he said gruffly, corking the bottle of vigormouth.

Maurice dealt the river. We had a long day ahead of us.

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 9

3rd Person POV

Hermione, who had come back with (Y/n) the day before term had started, takes a different view of things. She is torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row - "If Filch had caught you!" - and disappointment that he hadn't, at least found out how Nicholas Flamel was.

(Y/n) had opened her mouth to say something, but Fred and George had darted across the Common Room and dragged her away and towards Oliver Wood, her three friends staring after her, and catching her apologetic gaze before Oliver snaps at her to pay attention.

Oliver seems to be working the Quidditch team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood is becoming a fanatic, but Harry and (Y/n) are on Wood's side. If they win their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, they find that they has fewer nightmares when they're tired after training.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Oliver Wood gives the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall of their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" Wood orders. "That's exactly what'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at the words.

"Snape's refereeing?" he splutters through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going go be fair if me might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of team - besides (Y/n) - land next to George to complain, too.

"It's not my fault," says Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which is all well, thinks (Y/n), but I don't need a repeat of what happened last time, whoever did it.

The rest of the team hangs back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry and (Y/n) sprint straight back up to the Gryffindor common room, where they find Hermione and Ron playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron though was good for her.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," says Ron when Harry sits down beside him and Hermione shifts to make room for (Y/n).

Then Hermione catches sight of (Y/n)'s face. "What's wrong?" she asks, a worried look on her face and Ron looks over at (Y/n).

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry tells the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," says Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," Ron offers.

"Pretend to break you leg," Hermione says.

"Really break your leg," at Ron's words, everyone turns to him.

"I can't," says (Y/n), then she signs. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment Neville topples into the Common Room. How he had managed to climb through was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.

Everyone but (Y/n) and Hermione laugh, and (Y/n) leaps up an performs the countercurse. Neville's legs spring apart and he gets to his feet, trembling.

"What happened?" (Y/n) asks him, leading him over to sit with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Malfoy," says Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urges Neville.

"Report him!" (Y/n) agrees with the brunette.

Neville shakes his head. "I don't want more trouble," he mumbles.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" Harry says.

"He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier," Ron says.

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville chokes out.

(Y/n) feels around in the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulls out a chocolate frog. She gives it to Neville, who looks as though he is about to cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," (Y/n) says.

"The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin?" Harry finishes.

"Thanks, (Y/n), Harry ... I think I'll go to bed ... D'you want the card (Y/n), you collect them don't you?"

As Neville walks away, (Y/n) looks at the Famous Wizard card.

(Y/n), reading the card, smacks herself in the face and everyone turns to her. "I found him!" (Y/n) hands the card to Hermione and she sprints upstairs and grabs a alchemy book from her nightstand.

"I never thought to look in here," (Y/n) says, sprinting back downstairs and over to her friends. "Snape gave me this a few weeks ago to read."

(Y/n) opens the book and flips through the pages. "Nicholas Flamel is the only know maker of the Sorcerer's Stone."

This doesn't have the effect she had expected.

"The what?" ask Harry and Ron.

"Honestly, don't you read?" Hermione asks.

"The Sorcerer's Stone," (Y/n) begins pacing back and forth, her friends watching, "it was a legend, but I guess now it's true." (Y/n) runs a hand through her (H/C) hair. "It can transform any metal into pure gold and can produce the Elixir of Life, which makes the drinker immortal. If I remember correctly, Flamel just turned six hundred and sixty-five."

"The dog must be guarding the Sorcerer's Stone!" Harry begins.

"I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone removed out of Gringotts!" Hermione finishes.

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" exclaims Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it!"

At Harry's mention of Snape, (Y/n)'s mouth spreads into a frown.

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," says Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

. . .

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron are still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that (Y/n) remembers about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," she tells the other five. "If I don't we'll be behind in the cup. If we win, I'll show them ... it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," Ron comments and (Y/n) shoots him a incredulous look.

As the match grows closer, however, (Y/n) becomes more and more nervous, whatever she told her friends and sister. The rest of the team isn't very calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the House Championship was wonderful, no one had done it in seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Harry doesn't know whether he is imagining it or not, but he seems to keep running into Snape wherever he goes. At times, he wonders if Snape is following him, trying to catch him on his own. Potions lessons are turning into a sort of weekly torture for Harry, Snape seemingly getting worse in each class. Harry didn't see how he could - yet sometimes he had to horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

(Y/n) knew, when they had wished her and Harry good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see her alive again. (Y/n) hardly hears a word of Oliver's pep talk as she pulls on her Quidditch robes and picks up her Nimbus Two Thousand.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Little did (Y/n) know that her friends had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They had gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any signs of wanting to hurt (Y/n).

Back in the locker room, Oliver Wood had taken (Y/n) aside.

"Don't want to pressure you, (Y/n), but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."

(Y/n) nods, a determined look on the Seeker's face.

"The whole school's out there!" says Fred, peering out of the door. "Even - blimey - Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Harry and (Y/n) exchange looks. "Dumbledore?" Harry asks, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred is right, there's no mistaking that silver beard.

Harry could have laughed out loud with relief. (Y/n) was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare hurt (Y/n) if Dumbledore was watching, Harry thinks. Maybe that's why Snape is looking so angry as the teams march onto the field, Harry thinks, which Ron notices as well.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," the ginger tells the other girls. "Look - they're off. Ouch!" Malfoy had poked Ron in the back of the head.

"Oh, sorry Weasley, didn't see you there," Malfoy grins at Crabbe and Goyle. "Wonder how long (L/n)'s going to stay on her broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron doesn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, is squinting fixedly up at (Y/n), who is circling the came like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they chose people for the Gryffindor team?" says Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awards Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter and (L/n), who've got no family, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money - you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville goes bright red but turns in his seat to face Malfoy. "I'm worth twelve of you Malfoy," he stammers.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howl with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Ron's nerves are already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about (Y/n), "I'm warning you, Malfoy - one more word -"

"Ron!" says Hermione suddenly, "(Y/n) - !"

"What?! Where?!"

(Y/n) had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which draws gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stands up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as (Y/n) streaks towards the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, (L/N)'s obviously spotted some money on the ground!" says Malfoy.

Ron snaps. Before Malfoy knows what's happening, Ron is on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitates, then clambers over the back of his seat to help.

"Come on, (Y/n)!" Hermione screams, leaping onto her seat to watch as (Y/n) speeds straight at Snape - she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe and Goyle.

Hermione watches to see Snape turning on his broomstick to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches - the next second, (Y/n) had pulled out of the dive, her arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in her hand.

The stands erupt; it had to be a record, no one could remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

"Ron! Ron! Where are you? The game's over! (Y/n)'s won! We've won! Gryffindor's in the lead," shrieks Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging a beaming Pavarti Patil in front of her.

(Y/n) jumps off her broom, a foot from the ground. She couldn't believe it. She had done it - the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors come spilling onto the field, Harry sees Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped. Harry lands beside (Y/n) and they feel a hand on their shoulder and they look up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," says Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry and (Y/n) could hear.

The Gryffindors run to lift (Y/n) onto their shoulder; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed.

Harry leaves the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He leans against the wooden door and looks up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. (Y/n) had done it, she'd shown Snape. . . .

And speaking of Snape . . .

A hooded figure comes swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walks as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry recognizes the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner — what was going on?

Harry jumps back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he sees Snape enter the forest at a run; he follows.

The trees are so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he hears voices. He glides toward them and lands noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

He climbs carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. Below, in a shadowy clearing, stands Snape, but he isn't alone. Quirrell is there, too. Harry can't make out the look on his face, but he is stuttering worse than ever. Harry strains to catch what they are saying.

". . . d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus . . ."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," replies Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Harry leans forward. Quirrell is mumbling something, but Snape interrupts him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I —"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," says Snape, taking a step towards him.

"I-I don't know what you —"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hoots loudly, and Harry nearly falls out of the tree. He steadies himself in time to hear Snape say, "— your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't —"

"Very well," Snape cuts in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."He throws his cloak over his head and strides out of the clearing. It is almost dark now, but Harry can see Quirrell, standing quite still, as though he was petrified.

. . .

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaks.

"We won! (Y/n) won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping (Y/n) on the back."And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right — talk about showing Slytherin!"

"Everyone's waiting for you and (Y/n) in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens," Ron continues.

"Never mind that now," says Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this. . . ."

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy — and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus-pocus'— I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through -"

"So you man the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" asks Hermione in alarm, (Y/n) shifting thoughtfully on the desk she was sitting onto of.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," says Ron.

Hermione glances over at (Y/n), who is sitting silently, a thoughtful expression on her face. "What is it?" (Y/n) asks.

"The thing about the loyalty confuses me," (Y/n) says, jumping off the desk. "Who would Quirrell need to prove his loyalties lie to? Dumbledore right, what if Quirrell is trying to get the stone? What if that whole stuttering thing is an act? I've never been a hundred percent about him myself."

Ron shrugs her off, "It must be Snape."

"Not necessarily, not to be rude or anything, but I'm his favorite student," the others nod in agreement. Then (Y/n) turns to Hermione. "Who was sitting behind Snape at the first Quidditch match?"

"Quirrell," Hermione says.

"My point exactly," (Y/n) says but Ron and Harry shrug her off again.

"It's definitely Snape," Harry says and (Y/n) shakes her head and walks back to the Gryffindor Common Room alone.

Despite herself, she grins when she portrait whole swings open and the Common Room erupts into cheers as she steps through. Oliver and Fred come over and lift (Y/n) up onto their shoulder and everyone begins to cheer:

"(Y/n)!"

"(Y/n)!"

"(Y/n)!"

Word Count: 2963 words

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

I just really like your writing you do of Tom Holland and I was wondering if could do like reader/oc (either one is fine don't mind one over the other) but she is Tom's girl and a nurse and Tom talks about her on like a talk show and is just proud of her for helping others and like could the talk show be like Jimmy Fallon or Graham Norton show ( dont really mind either one too). Please and Thank you. ( ps. This is my first request so I really dont know how they work at all!😁)

Sorry this request took so long love but I finally got inspiration for it. You probably don’t even remember sending it aha but here you go and hope you enjoy! 

A/n: Okay so I choose Graham Norton a) because Tom is gold on that show and b) it’s not taped live and is filmed in London so it works better. This is just some fluff and if you want me to make a fic out of it let me know and I’ll see what I can do because I really enjoyed writing it!

Word count: 1.6k 

Warnings: I’m not a nurse so probably some inaccuracies there, cute fluff, mentions of a hospital setting. 

“We also have Tom Holland on the show tonight.” You watched on the small screen as the crowd cheered loudly and it made you smile. 

It was just past half ten as you sat on the small sofa in the nurses break room, a hot cup of coffee held in your hands warning you up and most importantly keeping you awake. You were quite thankful really, your break had lined up perfectly with your boyfriend’s appearance on the Graham Norton show and since you were understaffed that night it was just you on break.  

“So Tom I hear there’s a new romance on the cards for you?” Graham asked and you almost choked on a sip of coffee you took. Tom’s face came on the screen, the lighting letting you see his slight blush. 

“Well actually we’ve been dating for 6 months now.” Tom said proudly, smiling at the camera since he knew you would be watching. Your heart pounded tightly in your chest, although your relationship was no longer a secret, it was still the first time Tom had acknowledged the relationship on television.

“Here you both are on your instagram.” The picture that Tom had used to announce your relationship was on the screen; a selfie of Tom kissing your cheek and you smiling. A collective aww was heard from the audience as Tom blushed. “You kept that quiet didn’t you?.” Graham noted with a laugh and you giggled behind your cup as Tom shrugged with a smirk. 

“Yeah well there’s no one better at keeping secrets than me.” From the left of Tom, Jake let out a loud scoff with a thumb gesturing towards him. Tom rolled his eyes before letting out a laugh, not being able to keep up the act. 

“Seriously, she’s amazing and I know she’ll be working when she sees this but I want her to know I’m so proud of her.” Tom sent a wink to the camera and you felt your heart soar above it’s normal rate. He rambled on for a bit about how you were a nurse and more words of how proud he was before the topic was changed to the Far from home movie. 

You sniffled into a tissue as Tom’s words hit a place in your heart, warming you up even more than the coffee had. You were just listening to Tom Hanks speak about Toy Story 4 when there was a knock on the door, you assumed your break was over so you got back up just as the door opened.

It wasn’t your co-worker but instead your boyfriend holding a bouquet of flowers and a dopey smirk. He looked unsure if he should be there before you gasped and wrapped your arms around him. 

“Tommy what are you doing here?” 

“I came to surprise my best girl and to let her know how proud I am of her with these-“ Tom tried to turn the package to see the name of the flowers, forgetting what the florist had told him before he gave up at your small giggle. “Flowers.”

“They’re beautiful.” You took them and smelled the sweet scent before placing them in water in the side of the break room kitchen so you could collect them after your shift. 

“And so are you.” He kissed your lips and you sighed. “Is your shift over soon?” He asked hopefully, noticing the tired bags underneath your eyes and hoping to take you home and snuggle whilst eating a large pizza. 

“Oh Tommy I’m sorry, I said I’d work overtime tonight.” You but your lip as Tom’s shoulder sagged slightly. “Michelle is getting worse and she won’t talk to any of the other nurses plus we’re understaffed again.” Tom ran a hand down your cheek and then cupped it so he could pull you into a kiss. 

“I’ll have dinner/breakfast all ready for you when you get home.” He smiled warmly before pecking your lips gently again. “Go save some lives.” 

You laughed and shook your head. “We’re not all superheroes Tom.” You smirked as your forehead leant against his. The talk show was still running in the background which made Tom smile even wider when he realised what you were watching.

“You’re my superhero. You could save anybody with that smile.”

You sighed against his lips as he kissed you again, a blush highlighting your cheeks. It was far from a romantic setting with the cold, dimness of the break room, the old coffee machine whirring on alongside the tv in the background and yet your heart still fluttered, the butterflies in your stomach running rampant. 

There was another knock on the door that made you pull back away from Tom. Your co-worker appeared in her matching colour scrubs, a kind smile painted on her lips.  “Hey y/n, Michelle’s asking for you.” 

“I’ll be right there.” You called over Tom’s shoulder, smiling back at her before you said your goodbyes to your boyfriend for the night. He kept chasing your lips and making you giggle. “Tommy.” Your voice was amused but with a slight hint of sadness that warned him you had to go.

“Okay goodnight love, go be a superhero.” You laughed and nodded, winking at Tom as he watched you leave. 

When he saw himself out he bumped into your co-worker who smiled at him and told him that you were a lucky girl. She was married and he knew there was no underlying flirty tone which made him sigh in relief. 

“No I’m the lucky one.” Tom corrected before exiting the doors, a smile that crinkled his eyes on his face as he spotted you smiling at your patient. 

Tom sat at home with his half of the pizza as he watched an old friends rerun. He wistfully looked over it your side of the couch and sighed. As proud as he was there were times when he wished you were nowhere else rather than in his arms laughing at the jokes that you’d watched a thousand times but still found funny. 

He hated it even more when your schedules would clash and you would go days, weeks or months even without seeing each other. But at the end of the day you came home to each other and that was worth the pain of being apart for so long. 

You came home at 6am and found your half of the pizza in the fridge, your favourite chocolate bar next to it with a note that simply said “I love you.” And it was enough to make you smile tiredly as you heated up the pizza and ate away happily before cleaning up. You got changed into one of Tom’s shirts and snuck into your side of the bed, wrapping yourself into Tom’s warmth. 

The next night at the hospital was a slow one, You mainly sat with Michelle who had been your patient for the past week and who seemed to have grown a liking to you above the other nurses who the young teen refused to talk to. 

“Can we play cards again?” You pretended to think about it for a moment before pulling the pack of marvel cards she loved from your pockets. You set up a game of go fish and was just about to start when there was a knock on her door. 

“Hey!” 

Your jaw dropped as you watched a familiar red and blue suit appear in the doorway. You stopped yourself from calling his actual name as he looked at you, you could sense the smile beneath his mask. 

Michelle gasped and sat up straighter especially as Zendaya walked in behind him. Tom walked over and shook Michelle’s hand. 

“Hi I’m Spider-man.” Tom took off the mask and shook his curls which made you stifle a giggle. He sent you a wink before turning back to the young girl who was looking back and forth between Tom and Zendaya in shock. “You must be Michelle.” 

Michelle gave a small shy nod before looking to Zendaya who held out her fist for a bump.

“Michelle is an awesome name.” Zendaya smiled and the younger girl reached out to give her a hug. Z gave a grin and hugged back.

“Is this your nurse?” Tom’s eyes glanced at you before looking back to Michelle who nodded. “She’s pretty.” The girl giggled as you blushed, rolling your eyes covertly. 

“Her names y/n.” Michelle whispered and you felt yourself smile wider as Tom got up and held out his hand for you to shake. He wore a smirk and you matched it.

“Hi y/n it’s nice to meet you!” His queens accent was as adorable as always and never failed to make him you smile. You returned the greeting before he was focusing his attention back on Michelle who was still sat in awe.

“Do you wanna see me do a backflip?” Tom asked and Michelle nodded quickly, you joined in. He sent you a smirk before finding a space and flipping over. He showed off by doing two and Michelle burst into laughter and applause which you and Z joined in on. 

At the end of your shift, Tom came to pick you up still dressed in his Spider-Man suit which made you and your coworkers laugh. You lifted the mask up to kiss his lips before taking it off entirely. 

He drove you home and he let you rant about day, his hand rubbing sweetly on his thighs. When you got home he cooked you dinner, letting you relax and get changed before you helped him out. You sat down and ate, chatting happily as you felt yourself relax for the first time in weeks. 

Tom even ran you a bath, complete with candles and soft music before you both got into bed, snuggling under the covers and fighting against the cold London air with each other’s body heat. He peppered kisses to your face and lips as he spoke about how proud he was of you and you returned his words about him and what he had done at the hospital today.

You slept contently that night with Tom’s arms tight around you and the amount of love for him in your heart practically radiating from you. 

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[trancowboy]

Hi, I absolutely love your writing, I don't know if you take requests, but if you do, could you write a Sterek secret admirer AU?

This isn’t exactly an AU, but here you go.♥

The first postcard came on a Friday.

It was a Friday just like any other;boring, uneventful, good. It had been like that for the past coupleof years, ever since he’d left Beacon Hills behind for good, andDerek liked it this way. There was no one coming to kill him, no onemanipulating or using him, it was just a normal life. For the firsttime, his life was normal and good and without evil looming over himevery step he took.

Every weekday at nine am, he went toclasses for the history degree he never got to finish before Lauragot taken from him and everything back in Beacon Hills happened.Every day around noon, he went out with his two close friends (Ryanand Barbara, both fellow werewolves but neither of them pack) forlunch. Every day at four pm, he’d return home to his apartmentbuilding and rest and do whatever he wanted, because he could do thatnow.

That Friday was like every other.Except this time, as he checked his mailbox after coming home, Derekfroze at the sight of a postcard stacked on top of the small pile ofmail.

The words Los Angeles wereprinted on the front in big, blocky letters, parts of the city ineach of them. He frowned down at it, confused because he didn’t knowanyone in Los Angeles.

He knew people nearby, sure, but…well… he hadn’t been in contact with any of them for years, now.His heart ached at the thought of them, at the thought of him,but he pushed the longing away and flipped the card over instead.

The handwriting on the back was neatand familiar, in a way. Derek knew he had seen it somewhere before,but he couldn’t place it. There was no return address, he noted ashis eyes scanned over it, but there was a faint scent lingering onthe ink.

The scent was familiar. The scenttugged at his heartstrings. The scent calmed him instantly and madehim feel at ease. Or maybe he was just imagining things. It wouldn’tbe the first time.

Sighing quietly to himself, he lookedback at the words written and read.

“You’re one of the smartest peopleI know, and that says a lot coming from me. Your brain is incredible,and I wish I had known sooner. I would have asked you to tell meeverything you know and done everything in my power to soak up theknowledge that’s in that big brain of yours.

I miss you.”

In the bottom right corner was thenumber six in a red marker, and Derek stared down at the words for along while, his brain repeating the words I miss you over andover and in his head.

“Got yourself a nice postcard, dear?”someone to his right said, bringing him back out of his head, andDerek lifted his gaze to Mrs. Jones, the old lady who lived twofloors below him.

“Wrong address,” he said with ashrug and a small smile on his lips, because it had to be. Thiscouldn’t be for him.

That didn’t stop him from putting itsomewhere safe, though.

*

The second one came the day after,sitting there on top of his bills.

Derek’s heart was already beating fast,having just come back from a run, and it kept beating rapidly in hischest as his hand hovered over the postcard. That faint scent stilllingered on the card, but he didn’t let himself inhale it.

He had come too far in moving on to lethimself indulge in something that smelled like him.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat,Derek pulled the card out and looked at the front of it. It wassimilar to the first one, although except for Los Angelesprinted across the front, this one had Arizona in a similarstyle.

Again, Derek didn’t know anyone inArizona. He didn’t know anyone outside of Beacon Hills and New York,and it only left him more confused.

He flipped the card over – no returnaddress this time either, and the number five in red marker on thebottom right corner – and read the message on the back.

“Your heart is so big.Metaphorically, of course, not literally. You’ve always taken care ofus all, and never expected anything in return. You’ve sacrificedyourself for us more times than I can count on one hand (giantfucking moron) and I don’t think any of us ever said thank you. Iwish you had asked for something in return, so maybe you would havehad a reason to stay.

I miss you.”

Derek frowned down at it, reading itover a few more times before he tore his gaze away.

This… This couldn’t be for him.

He had to be imagining the familiarscent lingering on the card, he just had to. Because why would anyonesend him a postcard? Why would anyone send him two? And even moreconfusing, how did anyone outside of New York know where he lived?

He wasn’t exactly hiding, not really.He still kept the Hale name alive by using it on the lease of hisapartment, but he hadn’t told anyone back at Beacon Hills where hewas going or where he was. He hadn’t been in contact with themsince… well, since Mexico.

And besides, he didn’t deserve thesekind of messages. He didn’t deserve this kindness, so no. Theseweren’t for him.

But regardless, he found himselfputting the postcards – both the first and the second - on thefridge.

Maybe he was just imagining thelingering scent, maybe. But he couldn’t get himself to let the cardsgo. He let himself pretend, for just a second, that the scent wasreal and the cards were for him.

*

There was no postcard on Sunday, norwas there one on Monday when he checked after his afternoon class. Hewas about to be disappointed – why, he didn’t know. They weren’teven for him, as he kept telling himself over and over again – butthen Tuesday rolled around and there it was.

This one was an Oklahoma one,that familiar scent still lingering on it but more than the othertwo. He tried to will down the skip his heart did, tried to bite backthe little smile that threatened to pull at his lips, but it happenedbefore he could stop himself.

“Why is your heart going crazy all ofthe sudden, Derek?”

Cursing silently to himself, Dereklifted his gaze and looked over at where Barbara was standing, a browraised in curiosity and a little teasing grin curling at the cornerof her pink lips.

Back when they first met, Barbara hadreminded him of Erica; her personality shockingly similar, whichmeant she’d reminded him of Laura as well. Barbara looked nothinglike either of them, with her dark skin and short and blue dyed hair,but Derek could still sometimes hear his late beta and his sister’svoice in hers.

Barbara had punched his shoulder andhugged him tightly, when he’d told her. Apparently it hadn’t bothered her in the least. She had lost her own sister a few years back, so sheunderstood.

“No reason,” Derek lied with ashrug, pulling the small stack of mail out and shoving the postcardin the middle.

“You don’t gotta be a werewolf toknow that’s a lie,” someone behind him said, and Derek looked overhis shoulder to give Ryan a warning look.

Ryan was a fairly short man, only justreached Derek’s chin when he stood with his back straight, but he wasprobably one of the strongest people Derek had ever met. That wentfor both physically and mentally.

His dark hair was short and oftenneatly styled, and a few fuzzy hairs covered his jaw. He’d beenecstatic the first time hair had started appearing on his chin andhad even gone as far as to name a few of them.

While Barbara had named a few with him,Derek had rolled his eyes and called him ridiculous. Although, hecouldn’t deny that he had been excited for him, too. Ever since Ryanand his pack’s emissary had found a way to get him on hormones, Ryan had become more and more himself.

“It’s nothing,” Derek repeated,knowing full well his lie was unconvincing. But he ignored both oftheir pointed looks, ignored the flush that made his ears warm, andheaded up toward his apartment instead.

“It’s not nothing,” Barbaracontinued once they made it inside, Ryan closing the door behindthem. “Clearly, it’s something, and I want to know what.”

“She’s gonna snoop if you don’t tellus, you know that,” Ryan said, and Derek sighed.

“Someone has been sending mepostcards,” he finally admitted, slapping the stack of mail onto atable. The third postcard peeked out from the middle of it, and hiseyes lingered on it.

His fingers itched to read the messageon the back.

“Friends of yours?” Ryan asked andeyed the card with interest.

“No,” Derek said with a short shakeof his head. He then shrugged and continued, “I don’t know. They’renot for me. Someone’s got the wrong address.”

“How many have you gotten?” Barbaraasked and picked it up. Derek pretended he didn’t care, when sheflipped it over and her eyes scanned over the back.

“That’s the third.”

“No return address,” she noted in amutter. She fell silent for a brief minute, then slowly met his gaze,her face soft. “I don’t think whoever this is has got the wrongaddress, Derek.”

Derek send her a questioning look, andBarbara handed him the card. Carefully, he took it and flipped itover. There was a number four in the bottom right corner, written inthe same red marker as the other two, and still no return address.

The message, when he read it, left hisheart aching.

“You’re so brave and strong.You’ve gone through so much hell, and I hope that, wherever you are,you can finally have some peace and heal. You’ve gone through enoughbad shit to deserve some peace, Derek. I hope you’ve stopped fightinga fight that isn’t yours and have started recovering instead. Youdeserve that.

I miss you.”

He swallowed thickly, stared at it foranother moment, then tore his gaze away from the words and metBarbara’s eyes. She was smiling softly at him, her head tiltedslightly to the right.

She said nothing, though. She didn’tneed to. She said everything she needed to with the look she wasgiving him, and he nodded slightly in response.

This was for him. And the scent thatlingered on the card told him who it was from, but not why. Or even,how.

“Hey,” Ryan’s voice cut throughsoftly, and both Derek and Barbara turned to look at him. “So, I’vegot a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”

Sensing the nerves radiating from hisfriend, Derek asked, “You want us to come with you?”

“I mean,” Ryan said with a shrug,“my alpha will be there, but… that’d be great, actually. If youwant to.”

“Of course, dude,” Barbara saidwith a wide and toothy smile. She walked over and flung her armaround Ryan’s shoulders. “We’re in this with you. Plus, there mightbe some cute girls there, and I really need me some cute girlstoday.”

Derek rolled his eyes at them as theyheaded toward the door, shaking his head fondly at her statement.

Ryan scoffed and said, “Pick up girlsat a bar like a normal person, Barb.”

“I’m a werewolf, Ry,” Barbara said,her voice disappearing out the hallway. “I ain’t a normal personeven if I wanted to be.”

Whatever Ryan said, Derek didn’t listento. They were just down the hall, so he could, but he didn’t want to.Instead, he read the message on the back of the postcard over again.And again and again, lifting the card closer to his face to inhalethe scent lingering there.

His heart ached, longing overwhelminghim.

I miss you too, he wanted tosay.

Pushing it away, Derek put the postcardup with the other two on the fridge, stared at them for a longmoment, before he followed Barbara and Ryan back out of hisapartment.

*

The fourth one arrived only the dayafter, this one with Indiana printed across the front of it.The number three was written in the bottom right corner in that samered marker as before, and the message made him smile, just a smalland private smile.

“You’re so funny. Not in theconstantly cracking a joke kinda way or the me kinda way, but in yourown way. You’re witty in the driest way, and I love that about you.You’re a sarcastic little shit just as much as I am, and I couldbicker with you for a whole day without getting bored or annoyed atyou. You’re so funny, and I’m so happy the hell you’ve gone throughhasn’t taken that away from you.

I miss you.”

This time, there was no doubt about thescent. Derek knew from the moment he opened his mailbox, knew beforehe even came down there. The scent was overwhelming and so familiarthat his heart swelled and ached at the same time; with calmness andhappiness and longing and sorrow.

This postcard smelled a hundred percentof Stiles, and if Derek kept it by his pillow for just one night,closing his eyes and imagining him laying next to him, thenthat was for no one but him to know.

*

The fifth one came a few days after thefourth. This one had Pittsburgh printed across the front in asimilar sense as the rest of them, and this one had Stiles’ scent allover it.

This one had the number two written inthe bottom right corner, and this one, like the rest of them, had noreturn address. But unlike the others, this one had the words “Ibet you know who ;)” written where the return address wouldhave been.

And his secret admirer was right. Derekdid know who, and he closed his eyes and inhaled Stiles’ scentunashamed for a few seconds, before he opened his eyes and read themessage on the back.

“You’re so beautiful. I knew youwere attractive from the moment I met you, but the more I got to knowyou, the more beautiful you became. You’re beautiful when you protectthe ones you care about. You’re beautiful when you’re snarky and anasshole. You’re beautiful when you talk strategy. You’re beautifulwhen you let some of that big brain of yours show.

But nothing compares to the beautyof your smile. When you smile, it’s like the sky just got anotherbright star. I hope you’re smiling more where you are, Derek. I hopeyou have more reasons to smile now than you did before.

I miss you.”

Derek knew his ears and cheeks werebright red way before there was a finger flicking at his right ear.

“You’re blushing,” he heard Barbarasay in a teasing sing-song voice as she flicked his burning red earagain and again.

“Shut up,” he grumbled and swattedher hand away.

He read the postcard several more timesthroughout the day, over and over again while imagining Stilestelling him those things in person.

And with his scent coming off of thecard in clear waves, it wasn’t so hard to do if Derek just closed hiseyes and opened his heart.

*

The sixth one didn’t arrive. It didn’tarrive for days.

Derek kept finding himself going downto check his mailbox a few times a day, even though there was nothingin there and even though he couldn’t smell Stiles’ scent anywherenear it. But he kept doing it, kept making sure there was nothing inthere.

And every time, the box was empty andhis heart ached.

He tried not to let himself bedisappointed when day five of no new postcard rolled around, but hehad gotten his hopes up and those postcards had been the highlight ofhis month, so his heart ached a little every time he found hismailbox empty.

Saturday on the week after came, andDerek was reading over some notes from class when he heard it.

A heartbeat.

A heartbeat coming closer and closer.

Derek’s own heart started beating inthe same rhythm as the one he listened to, and he stopped focusing onwhatever he was reading and instead turned toward the door leadinginto his apartment.

It didn’t matter how long it had beensince he last heard that heartbeat. It didn’t matter how long it hadbeen since that scent last made its way into his nostrils from thesource and not a postcard.

It didn’t matter. Derek would know thatheartbeat and that scent anywhere.

He rose from his seat as the heartbeatarrived on his floor, and he practically ran toward the door, hisfeet moving on their own. He could hear the heartbeat, smell thescent, through the thick wood of the door, and he pulled it open asecond before there would be a knock.

Stiles still looked like he always had,although more grown now. But it was still Stiles, there was no doubtabout it, and the mere sight of him made Derek’s heart speed up andhis entire body feel calm all at once.

There was a wide smile on Stiles’ pinklips, and in his hands was a postcard with New York printed acrossthe front of it. There were bags by his feet and one hanging off ofhis shoulders.

His scent was overwhelming, punchingthrough and shattering the walls Derek had let build up over the timethey had been apart.

“Found you,” Stiles said, the smileturning softer now.

Derek didn’t even hesitate when hereached out for the anchoring home that had found his way back tohim. And Stiles met him halfway.

[urbanfanfare]

Where I Don't Want To Be- Chapter 1

Title: Where I Don’t Want To Be Author: letmetellyabouttrey Chapter(s): 1/? Characters: Trey Songz, Original Female Characters, Original Male Characters. Rating: M Warnings: Triggers, Language, and will definitely earn it’s rating as we move forward. Fic Summary: Kyianne Taylor has always been there to take care of her family. Fresh out of high school and ready to take on life ahead of her, she finds her life turned upside down when her parents make a confession that will drastically change the course of her life… Where I don’t Want To Be- Chapter 1 Kyianne POV: I woke up today with a feeling I couldn’t place… it was weird. Not so much weird, as much as feeling like everything was about to change. For the good or the bad I wasn’t sure yet… only time would tell… I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and got out of bed. I did my hygiene thing, before getting dressed in a pair a jeans and an old tee-shirt with faded red ink on it. I was pulling my long black hair back into an high ponytail, I sat all the way down at my kitchen table before it dawned on me, what today was… My 18th birthday! My two 6 year old twin sisters Tammi and Tanya came in the room along with my older brother Marc, who wasn’t exactly my Brother. He was my cousin to be exact, but his mom, who was my dad’s sister was very sick, and died when he was two, and his dad never claimed him, so my parents took him in, and here we are 19 years later him being x21. Then again we never saw our parents. “Happy Birthday Kyi!” Tammi and Tanya said as they handed me a homemade card. I loved the card just as much, if not more than a store bought card. “Happy Birthday! You are finally an adult! Still a kid to me, but an adult all the same!” Marc handed me a store bought card, with $20 stuck inside. “Thanks big head!” “Whatever just be lucky I gave you anything. Mighty Mouth!” He said grabbing his phone and texting something into the iPhone screen. I stuck my tongue out at him, before getting up out my seat to make breakfast, before getting the girls off to school. I put on a pot of water for some grits, and started making eggs. I practically ran the house by myself seeing as my parents, although they did the right thing by taking in Marc, they never really did right by any of us. Yea, they made sure we had a roof over our head, and food, but that was all because they could be charged with child abuse otherwise. I took care of the child rearing while they though money at the situation until we could just go away. It wasn’t like they didn’t have the means, they both worked at some high-end banking and investment firms, to which they owned their own firm. but they never even stayed here half the time. We lived in a modest, little home in Georgia, on the skirts of Atlanta, while they lived another life in the middle of the city. It was like we didn’t exist except for clientele dinners, or holidays. It was different living like this, not having your parents around to monitor your every move, coming home when you wanted, and not to a curfew. Yes, they tried to come in sometimes and lay down the law, but most of the time it was what I or Marc said goes for the twins seeing as we basically raised them so far. Marc was a good guy, but he was too busy chasing skirts and now he caught up in some mess. I mean he has his whole life ahead of him, this whole making me an aunt thing was not the business. “So birthday girl, where would you like to go for dinner? I pondered where I wanted to go. “You know what I’m not even sure. I’ll think about it today and let you know.” I said turning the eggs around in the pan. “You’ve got it good. Today’s your birthday, last day of high school. I say today’s a damn good day.” “Yea, it’s funny it all fell that way.” I said plating the eggs, grits and toast. The twins came and sat down at the table. I fixed them a plate. “Y'all two hurry up and eat. I still need to comb your hair and drop y'all off. Marc are you bringing LaQuita with you tonight?” “I thought you didn’t like her?” He questioned while putting some grape jelly on his toast. “I don’t but she’s the mother of your growing child, my Niece or Nephew. I’ll be damned, if I let her keep me from that over petty stuff.” “Your a great woman. You and Quita will get along good someday.” “You say that a lot, personally I don’t see that shit happening, now you get out of here too, your supposed to be in class in about 30 mins. You already told me about that professor of yours. He grabbed another piece of toast he had left, before mussing up the girls hair, to their protests, and stole kisses from each of them… After School: Today had been a long day, but I was happy it was over. This stage of my life was over, and as I walked out of school for the day I got a bit sentimental aaa I cried and hugged my friends goodbye. Grinning from ear to ear as I said my final goodbye to this high school that been apart of my formative years. I drove down the street in my Acura MDX SUV (another gift from my parents., stopping for gas and a Arizona Raspberry Iced Tea before picking up my sisters from Kindergarten and heading home. I pulled in the driveway noticing Marc’s blue Ford Explorer in the drive way. We walked inside seeing Quita and Marc on the couch watching a re-run of The Parkers. Quita who was 8 months pregnant stood up, a slight glare in her eyes. Then again she always had a glare when she saw me.? “Happy birthday” she said with very little interest in actually giving me any attention. “Thank you Quita. Marc, I wasn’t expecting you home yet. Didn’t you have another class?” “Quita had a doctors appointment today so I went.” “Oh yea I forgot, how did it go?” I sat down on the couch, my backpack on the floor. “Great, my SON is going to be a very health, a happy little man.” He said with a grin. “Shit not if he keeps sitting on my Blatter. I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” We all laughed and I moved my stuff of her way. “Oh My God! A boy Marc! I’m so excited! I know you wanted a boy, so I know you are happy!” “Ecstatic!” I turned to the twins, who had been in the room with us too. “So, I know y'all got homework. Hop to it. They huffed and walked to the kitchen table. Me right behind them. They had one more week of school left so they still had work to do. "Kyi, why do we have to do it now?” Tammi said. “Because if you don’t do it now, your not going with us out to eat later.” “Dang!” They said at the same time. I looked over the simple addition and reading and determined that for both assignments it shouldn’t take more then 30 mins total. It wasn’t that bad. The teacher just wanted them to write down what they were most excited about for the summer. I was leaving the kitchen, when I almost ran into Quita. I started to move, but I wanted to say something first. “Hey Quita?” “Yes?” She said with bite in her voice. She flipped her burgundy hair over her shoulder. “I wanted to say to you. That I’m happy for you and my brother. I know he loves you, and I also know that you and I have not started off on the right foot, but you are going to be apart of this family now. So let’s bury the hatchet, and move on.” She eyed my hand suspiciously, before crossing her arms under her chest and glaring me down. “I’m not sure what kind of game you think your…” “ Quita please, I’m not running anything on you. My brother loves you, and I would hope you loved him enough to take the rope I’m throwing to you.” “It’s bitches like you always trying to set me up. Marc’s my man, I won’t let you take him from the family.” “Quita, I’m not trying to hurt you or break y'all up. Shit you are fucking 8 months pregnant. Even if he was miserable, which I find highly likely, he still wouldn’t do his child like that. He knows what that’s like, Shit we all do. I’m trying to squash this shit. For the sake of the baby, let’s be amicable about this ok?” “I’m going to say ok, but I still believe you aren’t up to any good.” “Likewise. Thanks Quita.” I waved her forward and we watched t.v until the twins finished up. Hours later…. We went to dinner at T.G.I. Friday’s and afterwards Marc dropped Quita at home, and then we went home. When we pulled up I noticed there was a silver Mercedes-Benz in our driveway which could only mean that our parents had stopped by. I looked on the street and saw a black suburban on it, but paid no attention to it. We parked, grabbing our leftovers and went inside to face the music. My parents sat on the couch, anxious as fuck. I knew something was up. “Terry, Linda.” I said without any warmth in my voice. “Hey don’t call us that. We are your parents.” I scoffed, their faces darkened. Their body language changed, and something told me to get the twins away from here. “Hey Marc, take Tammi and Tanya upstairs, get them ready for bed, I’ll be up in a minute.” “Awe how…touching.” My father said. “It is honey, she takes care if them like they belong to her. It’s cute.” “She going to be perfect for them. ” I was getting nervous, who was “them” why was I perfect? “Hold up, who are "them”, what in the hell are you talking about?“ "Language.” “Oh please! Do not come into this house and pretend you are a real parent. None of us have seen you in three months. Do you even know what today is? "Well, well, well, you have more backbone then the last time we saw you, but I suppose that isn’t our problem anymore. You guys can come out now.” Three huge men, came from the kitchen. Surrounding me. I immediately called Marc. “MARC!” He flew down the steps, and started swinging, I started fighting when they started grabbing for me. It was no use, they had me held back by my arms, and Marc by his neck and arms. “ Tisk, Tisk! Such bad manners.” “Let’s just get this shit over with I’ve got stuff to handle tonight…” “What do you want?” “We came for you!” Said our mother. “WHAT?!” Marc and I yelled. “You see, I’ve decided to bolster my sales, and open myself up to a whole new business venture, and let’s just say, I need you to… Help me.” Terry said. “With? And will y'all let us go god dammit!” I pulled against the arms holding me. “My new business involves matching up girls from around the world to men, who are willing to pay…” “Your becoming a PIMP for a living?! Wow! damn I’ve seen everything.” I yelled rolling my arms.“No, you haven’t. Not even the start, here in your sheltered world. And no Terry is not a pimp. He just makes people happy, and uses girls to do so. "Ok and what do I have to do with all of this?” “I have a client, a very special client. He truly doesn’t take No for an answer, Not that I would give him one. You see this client is very powerful, he gets what he wants and he decided out of all the girls he could have that he wants you.” My eyes popped out of my head, tears sprung from my eyes, and Marc went ballistic. “Fuck No! You can’t have her! What kind of sick shit is this! You sold your own fucking daughter!” He started pulling and fighting the guy, before I knew it, they pushed him to the ground and pulled a gun on him. He stopped moving and put his hands up and I heard my “parents” and I use the term loosely were laughing. “Oh such a shame, stuck between a rock and a hard place are you?” “Can’t you all just leave him alone? Please.” “We will as soon as you leave with us.” “No!” “Shut up!” “ Let me put it this way Kyianne, either you go with us, or you continue to fight us and he dies. Oh and we still take you.Take your pick.” I looked him over, and it wasn’t even a decision. “Ok, OK! Fine, You have to promise me, you leave him, and my sisters alone.” “KYI! NO! Fuck no, you get out and don’t worry about me.” I tried to go to him but the man was still holding me back. I looked to Terry and Linda pleadingly. They nodded to the man and he let me go. I ran over to Marc, who just grabbed me and hugged me. “Marc, I’m sure you would be ok with going for me, but what about LaQuita, what about your Son?” His face dawned with realization and hurt. “They need you Tammi and Tanya need you. I need you to take care of them. If your gone, they go back to them, and then they end up just like this, at least now, I know you can take care of them, and they are protected. Please Marc let me go.” His face was so sad, I had never seen him this upset before. I could tell he was still battling with my decision. “You don’t have to give up your life for us. Please Kyi! Think about this!” “There is nothing to think about. It’s either go with them, however unwilling it may be. Or we fight them and you die, I’m taken anyways, and Tammi, Tanya, and your Son is left with no one. Either way I’m going. They made sure of that.” I turned and glared at them. “She’s right Son.” “I’m not your Fucking son! For once it’s something I can be proud of in regards to your family genes.” “Please Terry and Linda, don’t need your help shut up. I just need to hear you say they are, and will always be safe from whatever lifestyle you lead! My sisters will NEVER EVER be subjected to this!” “Y'all have our word. Your sisters are safe. We have to go now!” I huffed back the tears, and pulled Marc to his feet. He was about 5'11 and about medium build. , with brown eyes. “Ok ok. Can I at least say goodbye to my sisters and grab something from upstairs?” “You’ve got ten minutes, and then we are dragging you kicking and screaming out the front door.” I turned and ran up stairs, Marc, and two of the three men, on our tails to make sure we didn’t try anything. I sucked up my tears and opened the door to my sisters’ room. “Kyianne? Why are you crying?” Tanya asked me “It’s ok. Sit down for a sec.” I sat on Tammi’s bed both of them sat beside me, I pulled them really close, as Marc sat on the opposite bed. Tears staining his cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot red. “Ok you two. Kyianne has to go away for awhile.” “What?” “Why?” They said at the exact same time, panic laced in their voices. “Look it’s going to be ok you two. I need you to behave yourselves for Marc. You two are gorgeous and amazing little girls. I’m only going away because I Love you both, and not because I don’t Understand?” They both nodded, tears on their faces as well. I prayed to god for strength not to break down in front of them, it would only make it harder for them and me. “ Will we ever see you again?” Tammi asked me. I choked as I didn’t have an answer for them, but I was going to lie my ass off just to protect them. “Sure hun you will. I’m not sure when but you will. Now come with me.” We walked the hall to my room, and I went to my jewelry box. Most of my stuff was cheap, costume stuff, but I had a few pieces I knew would stand the test of time, even if I didn’t because they were real. I had three of those to be exact. I had two chains with an identical Rose pendents on them. One was gold, the other silver. Roses were my favorite flower, so they got incorporated into my daily stuff. I handed the Gold to Tammi, and the Silver to Tanya. “I want you two, to take care of these for me.” I grabbed the other necklace, which was something that was passed to me, by my maternal Grandmother Edith. She took care of me and Marc when we were really little, but she died when I was 15, leaving me and Marc to take care of everything. I loved that woman, so I kept a lot of her jewelry, but this one was special to her.I slid it in my pocket. I heard the knocks on the door, one of the once stone-faced guards had softened his face and said, “Ok Miss Taylor, it’s time to go.” The twins grabbed a leg a piece and cried harder. My heart broke and I gently pulled them off and bent down to their faces. “No matter what remember that I LOVE you.” I hugged them as tight as I could and kissed their chubby cheeks, and stood up to Marc’s wet face and hugged him. I gave him a peck on the cheek. “Take care of them Marc. Take care of yourself too. I love you, and your son.” I walked down the stairs, everyone hot on my trail. “Are you ready?” I wanted to smack her for asking me such a dumb ass question. “Don’t ask me a dumb ass question like that. Let’s go.” I looked back one more time at my family, and Marc was holding them both, and I was thrown in the back seat of the Suburban… We pulled away and everything I knew was gone…