#and then I took the courage to start drawing Austria again even if back then I was never fully satisfied with it

[j-ellyfish]

You are the QUEEN of Spaus 💜

Waaahhhh thank you!! Q///w///Q

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 5 (1/3)

Here I am! How was Christmas?

Previously on TWoT: A 2020 girl ends up in 1899 with a bunch of outlaws. First she freaks out. Then, she agrees in living with them. After, she begins to know the gang members, the way they think and act and among them a certain Mr. Morgan catches her attention. Now, she wants to go around, learn more about the surroundings and be an active part of the gang. 

Chapter 5 (1/3) - Playing and learning

Words: 3k

That morning Emily woke up with an urgent need: she needed to brush her teeth. She hadn’t done it in thee days and started wondering how could those people live without brushing. She had asked Mary-Beth, of course, who confirmed the existence of toothbrushes and paste, but they didn’t use it. Apparently in 1899 it was considered as something only rich people could do, because they had time and money to waste in personal hygiene. So Emily had to settle for an old friend: the chewing gum. They kindly informed her that gum was an old habit already and that the mint flavor variation appeared at least thirty years earlier, a fact that surprised her. 

After all the work Miss Grimshaw had given them the day before, there was nothing to do in camp, and when Emily said nothing, she meant nothing. Again, she questioned Mary-Beth, asking her what did they do when they didn’t work. Her answers was: nothing. They read something, wandered around, complained about the boredom, insulted each other. The last one seemed to be an important part of camp-life: instead of talking with each other, act like a group, like a family, at the first chance they had they were at each other’s throat.  

For example Emily soon understood Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen didn’t like Molly, and apparently Miss Grimshaw didn’t like her, either, but Emily couldn’t understand why. They were all women living in a difficult situation, they should have sticked together, have each other’s back. Where was their sisterhood?

When Mary-Beth returned to her book, Emily started walking among the tents, preparing herself to a day full of attempts to understand those people, the only thing she could do to avoid being bored to death. After all, she had no music, no interesting books, no TV and no Internet.

As she reached the center of the camp, she spotted Miss Grimshaw sipping something from a cup right next to the pot in company of the man who Emily learned to be Mr. Strauss, the money lender. She gulped and summoned all her courage before approaching them. That woman had something that attracted her like a moth with a lantern, the same effect Hosea had on her. 

“Good Morning, Miss Grimshaw” she said shyly.

“Morning to you” she replied.

Even when she wasn’t giving orders, the inflection of her voice was strong and straightforward. 

“Morning” said Strauss and Emily nodded as an answer.

“I-I was wondering, why everybody addresses to you with your last name, Miss Grimshaw?”

The woman seemed taken aback by that strange question and for a moment she struggled with her own thoughts.

“I guess it’s a way to show respect. Even though they don’t give me much respect apart from calling me by my last name. These new generations, they’ll be the ruin of this world.”

Emily smiled at her complaining, thinking about all the times she had heard something like that in 2020. Some things never change.

“That’s a pity, you have really a beautiful name, they should use it more often.”

Miss Grimshaw frowned.

“Are you trying to make fun of me, girl?”

“N-no, Miss Grimshaw, never! I-I… you just remind me a lot of… my mother has a similar personality. She’s not as strict as you are, b-but… she’s the one who governs the house and gives orders and taught me how to take care of myself.”

Emily talked with her head low, thinking how pathetic she was sounding.

“What about your father?” asked Mr. Strauss and Emily noticed his foreign accent.

“Oh no, my father is more like a subject” she laughed.

Then, after an embarrassing silence fell, Emily addressed Mr. Strauss.

“You have a strange accent. Where you come from?”

“Austria.”

“Really? My grandfather’s brother lived for some time in Austria after the war ended and he kept telling us how much Austrians were different from Germans. He said they were more… friendly somehow.”

“Which war?” asked Mr. Strauss.

“The… Second World War” answered Emily, but while she pronounced the words she already new they couldn’t understand.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about things you still haven’t lived.”

“Oh for Lord’s sake girl. When will you give it a rest with this nonsense?” Miss Grimshaw rebuked her.

“It’s not her fault, Susan. You can perfectly tell she really believes in her delusions” answered Mr. Strauss. 

Emily lowered her eyes and felt like she had been stabbed in the back. They didn’t believe her, but what could she expect? They seemed two down to earth people, they didn’t have the predisposition to believe her.

“I’m sorry, I-I’ll go find something else to do than bother you” she murmured and without looking at them she quickly walked away.

Her legs leaded her in the back of the kitchen and she realized where she was only when she saw the prisoner tied to the tree. Again, she thought that probably he was tied there for a reason, maybe because he was too dangerous, or that he had done something terrible, and he deserved to be there. So again she walked away without looking at him twice. 

As she kept going, thinking about how many people in that camp were just not going to believe her and her story, she passed right in front of Arthur’s tent, but he wasn’t there. She stopped and looked around for a second, being sure he wasn’t in her range of sight before drawing closer. 

The first thing that stroke her was the amount of photographs: one of a woman on the table, another woman on the crate at the back of the bed, and then three on the side of the wagon. On the table by the bed there also was Arthur’s hat, which Emily took before sitting on the cot. She looked at it for a while before placing it on her head and smiling feeling how heavy it was compared to what she expected. Then, she turned around to look better at the three photos hanged on the wagon. 

There was a… dog? There was a man, who, thanks to the resemblance to Arthur and to the name written on a tablet he was holding, Emily could understand was his father. But was the third photo that shocked Emily most of all: a young Arthur with two young Dutch and Hosea! The latter was the one Emily focused on, with his very pale blond hair, and she couldn’t help but notice he was incredibly handsome! Even more than Arthur who with the years had got definitely better. 

So, that was the place Arthur slept in, she thought turning to sit straight again. Maybe he had his diary somewhere. She looked around, but the only thing she found was a little newspaper cutting dated 1887 about a bank robbery, and reading the description of the suspects, Emily recognized Dutch, Hosea and Arthur. She laughed picturing the scene in her mind, and in the end she was surprised to find out the money they had stolen, they gave it away to the poor. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” 

Emily turned to smile at Arthur as he walked closer and stood up showing him the cutting.

“A bank robbery?” she asked.

“You know you’re trespassing a private property, don’t you?”

“I didn’t think you minded too much about private property” she laughed.

Arthur took the hat from her head and put it on his with an annoyed face that made everything more hilarious for Emily.

“So, that’s your father, I got this” she said pointing at the photo while Arthur took the cutting from her hands.

“And I suppose this is your mother” she added taking the photo from the table and turning it to read the name.

“Beatrice, it’s a beautiful name.” Arthur took the photo too and put it back to its place.

“But I don’t understand who’s that woman. Your sister maybe?” she asked pointing at the other woman picture.

Arthur took her by her shoulders and made her turn around.

“This is none of your business” he said pushing her out of his tent. 

“I’m just trying to know you better. I love that picture with Dutch and Hosea, by the way. The three of you looked awesome!” she replied turning to look at him.

His pissed off face made Emily laugh, but in the end she returned serious.

“I’m sorry you’ve lost your parents. Your mum looked like a good woman” she said looking at him right in the eye. 

“I can’t say the same about your dad, because from my understanding he was a criminal too, but…”

Arthur’s hands on her made her jump and when he spoke a shiver ran down her back.

“Don’t talk about things you don’t know” he growled.

She froze on her place looking at his clear eyes. He had the same look of the day before, when they came out of the saloon, the look that had scared her, that made her understand he wasn’t joking anymore, the look that had the power to put her back into her place.

As he walked away she felt suddenly heavy. She was sorry and ashamed for what she had done. He was right, she didn’t know anything about him, she had no right to say things about him, his family and his past. She wanted to run, reach him and tell him how sorry she was, but she didn’t, scared by the fact he could get even angrier.

...

Emily was a very active kind of person, always working, always doing something with herself, and that situation was boring her, so she had to think about something. Who she wanted to spend her time with? She didn’t get to choose. As she left Mr. Morgan’s private space, Jack came running and asked her to play hopscotch again. 

“Why don’t we try something new instead?” she asked kneeling down to look at him right in the eye.

“Do you know other games?”

“Oh I know plenty of games. For example: what do you want to be when you grow up, Jack?”

The little boy frowned: no-one had ever asked him that question and for him it seemed something impossible to answer. 

“I don’t know” he said in the end.

“Well, when I was little, I knew exactly what I wanted to be. I wanted to be an explorer. So I took my backpack and went exploring.”

“What did you explore?”

“Everything. I’ve been in the African deserts, the highest and coldest mountains of Asia and the thickest jungles of South America.” “Really?”

“Yes, really. I just had to close my eyes and I could see them.”

“How?”

“Use your imagination. Come, I’ll show you.”

The process was more difficult than Emily expected. Jack was four years old, but she had never seen a more down-to-earth kid in all her life. Imagination was a strange word in his vocabulary. 

“When Uncle Hosea reads a story to you, you imagine what happens on your head, right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s the same thing, you just have to take the images from your head and bring them in the reality. Now, first of all, explorers have hats, big hats, so we have to find two.”

After they found the hats - Emily borrowed a big one from Charles and Jack one from his father - she started with her play. She brought him into the woods, searching among the leaves and dirt for traces of the ‘big mountain gorilla’, then she made him cross the 'Pacific Ocean’ on a canoe, which was a crate, and landed on the exotic ‘New Guinea’.

“Look, Jack!” she exclaimed pointing her finger at Tilly in the distance.

“She’s one of the native girls of the island. Should we approach her and find out if she speaks our language?”

...

The new girl was playing again with Jack and this time her game was even crazier than the jumping on numbers. They kept wandering around camp, or in the woods, or on the edge of the cliff and pointing at things that didn’t exist. At one point they even approached the fire, where some of the gang members were sitting, with a stealth and careful pace like they were hunting a dangerous animal, but instead the girl pointed at Uncle’s face and said: “Look Jack, this is a great shaman of the Australian desert. They say he has magical powers. We should show our respects.”

Javier, Bill and Uncle himself laughed in a snort looking at her slim figure bowing in reverence.

“Oh great shaman, please, enlighten us with your wisdom.”

“What exactly are you doing?” exclaimed Lenny coming closer to the fire.

“Oh no! They sent one of their warriors. Hurry Jack, bring me my sword, we have to defend ourselves!” she yelled to the little boy.

Without hesitation, he run away and Emily looked at Lenny who was about to sit down. 

“No, no don’t sit, please. We have to fight” she said.

“I won’t fight with you” he replied.

“Come on, Lenny! I’m doing it for Jack.”

“What? Acting like a fool?” asked Bill.

“Playing with the imagination. He needs this” she answered.

Lenny didn’t want to, it was stupid, it was humiliating, but she was begging him with the eyes.

“Here’s your sword!” yelled little Jack running towards her and giving her two sticks.

“Take your weapon, sir. We’ll see if you are as brave as the stories tell” she said with a big fake voice and handed one stick to Lenny.

He sighed and looked at the people around him as they were all wondering if he would have played that stupid game. He had no choice: he took the stick and put himself in position.

The mayhem she was causing caught the attention of more people until even Dutch came out of his tent to look at the scene.

“The hell are they doing?” he heard Arthur’s voice by his side.

“I have no idea” he laughed.

Lenny dodged and attacked again and finally succeeded in hitting Emily’s leg.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed and threw herself on the ground.

“Jack! Jack come here! I need you to take my place! Here, take the sword. Fight my faithful friend, fight for my honor!”

Everybody laughed again at her words as Jack took her place in the “fight”.

Arthur chuckled too and took a few steps towards that unusual scene. That girl had had the power to make Lenny play. Lenny, who always did everything in his power to make the others believe he was a grown up man. How had she done it?

“Well, she surely is a better actress than you, Arthur” joked Hosea showing up by his side.

“Yeah, maybe you should take her with you to the next robbery.”

Hosea chuckled.

“Maybe I will.”

...

Finally, Lenny let Jack hit him and, just like Emily had done, he threw himself on the ground and played dead. A loud shout of joy raised from the people around them for Jack’s victory and Emily was delighted by the fact that she had been able to involve all of them in the game.

“Okay, I guess it’s done. Go give the hat back to your daddy. We’ll explore more another day” she said taking Charles’ hat off.

Jack hopped away and she walked closer to Lenny as he was standing up.

“Thank you for playing the game. I didn’t know you were such a good actor” she joked.

“Never good as you” he replied.

“And also thanks to the great shaman, for his infinite patience” she addressed Uncle with another bow.

“My pleasure, dear. You’ll be surprised to know I’ve actually been to Australia.”

“Really? When?” she asked sitting on the log near the campfire.

“Australia? You?” asked Bill making Emily understand he didn’t believe him.

“Why is it so difficult to believe?” she asked.

“Ah! I’m more inclined to believe you come from the future than he’s ever been to Australia.”

“And you’re right, I never did.”

Emily frowned.

“So, you lied?” she asked.

“I’ve never been there, but I tried to. I made it as far as Chicago” answered Uncle.

Emily fixed her eyes on him, trying to understand if he was playing dumb, or he really was, before she busted out laughing. 

“Chicago ain’t nowhere near Australia” exclaimed Bill, who unlike Emily seemed annoyed by Uncle’s words.

“No… but it’s on the way.”

Emily laughed again, louder and longer.

“What’s so fun?” asked Bill.

“You can’t be serious Uncle” she said among the tears.

“Why not? That’s the way for Australia. Maybe one day we’ll all go there and live the rest of our lives as kangaroo farmers.”

Emily couldn’t believe her ears. If those people were outlaws their only crime was lack of common sense!

“Okay, I think I’ll return the hat to Charles” she said standing up and drying her tears. 

She covered the distance to Mr. Smith’s tent still thinking about that crazy conversation she had just had, the road to Australia that passed through Chicago, the kangaroo farmers… That man couldn’t be serious. 

“Here, Charles. Thank you for lending me this” she said at the man as she reached his tent.

He was making some arrows and the thing intrigued her so much that she stopped by his side for a while to look at him working. But of course she didn’t limit herself to watch, she had to ask questions. She asked him everything about making arrows, the type of feathers he had to use, the type of wood, and then she passed to bows, how difficult it was to use one, how difficult it was to make one…

...

Charles had never minded to teach people how to do things and that was the only thing that stopped him from standing up and walk away from her. She was a good girl after all, she just had one flaw: the constant need to speak. 

“I know that Natives learn how to hunt from their horses when they are very young, is that true?” she asked.

“Yeah. How do you know that?” Charles asked in turn. That was his first question.

“I read it somewhere. Is it difficult? To ride a horse, I mean.”

“You can’t do it?”

She shook her head.

“You want to learn?”

“Oh no, for God’s sake. I hate horses.” “What?”

Charles couldn’t believe what she had just said and stopped what he was doing to stare deeply at her.

“I mean… I don’t hate horses, I just don’t like them. They’re dangerous.”

“Who told you that?”

“My father.”

“Has he ever ridden one?”

She seemed to think about it.

“No, I don’t think so.” “So, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” “But they are dangerous.”

“Only if you can’t control them.”

Charles watched her carefully before he took his decision.

“Come, I’ll show you” he said standing up from his chair.

“Show me what?”

“That there is nothing to be afraid of.” “No, Charles, really, I don’t…” “Come” he said and took one of her hands to help her stand.

Arthur had been looking at them from the distance while they were seated one on the chair and the other on the ground. From that little that he knew about Charles, he could perfectly tell he was extremely annoyed by all those questions the girl was asking him, but he was behaving wonderfully, and he didn’t expect nothing less from Charles. 

As he saw them standing up and walking away, his curiosity raised and he moved away from the tree he was laying against to follow them. They reached the external part of camp and he heard Charles saying “wait here” to the girl before he drew closer to the horses.

Arthur took the pack of cigarettes and brought one to his lips, lighting it and taking a puff. Charles came back, leading his horse by the reins. What were they doing? Were they planning to go someplace? Where could Charles possibly take her?

[neighborhood-newtina-reblogger]

Not a moment to spare

WC: 2.5k

Spoiler: They kiss!

The air was abuzz with the chatter of hundreds of witches and wizards. Orders shouted across corridors reverberated in many different tongues and dark-coated people weaved in and out of the crowd to find their assigned stations. Legions of aurors occupied the green tile hallways, the older ones all bearing the same inscrutable looks. Many of the younger ones also donned serious expressions, though their excitement invariably shined through. Some of their faces were also tinged with fear, but all present nurtured a cautious hope.

A bob of black hair broke free from the crowd and hurried away from the noisy throng. The corridor was endless, the repeating pattern of tiles making it seem as though she weren’t moving anywhere at all. Dark eyes scanning the crowd, she hardly saw a familiar face. But she knew where she could find one.

He would come striding down this hallway any minute now, all bravado and inspiring speeches to rally the masses. Then he would disappear.

It was something she admired about Theseus. Perhaps it was something she shared with him. His ability to steel himself, diving near-blind into the abyss of uncertainty with nothing but his research, his instincts, and his hard-earned skill backing him. His ability to endure great personal loss and yet to emerge with even stronger resolve. And most of all, his ability to remain hopeful. Never was he jaded, never did he doubt his cause, and never did he stoop to unkindness. She had to find him.

The first time Tina had come here, nearly six months ago, the Ministry building was overwhelming and seemingly impossible to navigate. Then, too, Theseus had been her guide. She hadn’t focused on cataloguing her surroundings as she usually did, the events of Paris only weeks prior still fresh in her mind. The pain and indignity of being forced to leave still a keenly-felt sting. She shuddered to remember how Newt’s green eyes were ringed with red and the way he had held onto her for a second too long when she stood in his doorway to say her goodbyes.

Now, after two months of liaising in person with the Ministry, she could weave through the chaos of this building with the same finesse that she could weave through the bustling streets of New York. Most of her daily responsibilities included meetings, paperwork, and bureaucracy, but she’d gone into the field enough times to know the floo network like the hilt of her own wand. This really was the only sensible spot to stage this operation, at least according to Tina, Theseus, and anybody else with a single shred of common sense. She had spent many a meeting in the last few weeks where the location of the offensive’s base was the sole topic of discussion. The building was on lockdown. Everyone involved had arrived at 3 o’clock that morning and passed through four security checkpoints; nobody else would be flooing in or out, leaving this entire floor practically unoccupied. They were therefore able to set up departure stations at every third fireplace and section off the adjacent hallways into mess halls, bunk areas, and secure meeting rooms.

Tina, Newt, and Jacob arrived at the Ministry early that morning. No sooner had she arrived than she was whisked away by Theseus. She hadn’t given it a second thought, already intensely focused on how the hell they were going to get this offensive off the ground in the next twenty-four hours with thousands of domestic and international aurors to coordinate. Now that everything seemed to be running fairly smoothly and the first team’s departure was drawing near, it was a waiting game. In the first moments she could spend alone with her head, she had become keenly aware of their place in history. This was a moment that would decide the fate of the wizarding world. There were guaranteed to be casualties. And she hadn’t even thought to throw Newt a reassuring glance that morning when she left. So now she had to find Theseus.

Her feet carried her at a brisk pace to the room from which she knew he and his lead strategist would emerge in just a few short moments. The same room where she would be sat just one hour later, when it would be her turn for a final debriefing before she led her own team out.

Sure enough, right on schedule, the two men appeared. Theseus’s expression was tight and focused, as it always was before he lighted off on a mission. His features softened as he noticed her jogging towards him. He offered her a courageous smile and a wave from across the way and turned his head to say something to the squat bearded man walking beside him. He made no effort to quicken his pace or divert his course to meet her. So she sped up into a near-run until she reached him and whipped back around to walk by his side.

“Tina.”

“Theseus.”

“Are you ready?”

“Are you?”

A quick chuckle was his only answer. This was how most of their exchanges went. A short volley of words that left so much unspoken yet entirely understood. They were compatible, as partners. And after a few life-and-death experiences, they had even come to trust each other.

“Newt, where is he?”

Theseus stopped, and the older gentleman who had dropped behind to make way for Tina nearly crashed into his back. He scrutinized her for a moment, and a sorrowful look passed across his face. It was a flicker, gone in an instant, but Tina still saw it. She saw how he quickly replaced it with a charming smile. Steeling himself, as always.

“He’ll be across the way. He departs with the sixth group. Right now he’s meant to be securing that case of his and leaving instructions with Ministry officials,” he paused to give another chuckle, and his smile felt more genuine, “both for their care and for their recapture.”

Tina gave him a quick nod and peeled off in the other direction and Theseus resumed his march towards the excited crowd of aurors. After taking a few steps, she paused and called out again to him. He turned around expectantly, his gait never faltering as he continued to walk backwards.

“See you out there,” was all she offered, losing the nerve to say what she really felt. They didn’t need to think about good luck and goodbyes. There was only the present, reality, and a plan. Then it was he who gave her a nod and turned away.

Once again tile after tile was slipping away under her feet. Many things were slipping away.

This wouldn’t be one of them.

Her pace quickened with every minute that passed until she was again jogging down the hallways and around corners. Finally Newt’s blue coat, which suited him so much more than the grey he’d worn in Paris, entered her field of view. Thank Merlin for Theseus.

“Newt!” She called out. He hadn’t heard. She stepped up her pace again. A little closer and she tried once more to catch his attention. This time, he turned from where he was hunched over on the ground, and upon realizing that Tina was practically running towards him, he stood and took a few steps in her direction.

“Tina? Has something happened?”

She nearly skidded to a stop in front of him and took a moment to catch her breath. He regarded her with concern as he waited for her to speak. Concern morphed into shock when she locked eyes with him and said:

“Newt, you have to kiss me.”

He blinked at her, mouth slightly ajar, not quite knowing what to say.

“Newt, we don’t have time for this. If you love me, then kiss me.” The words spilled out of her more quickly than she wanted them to, but as long as they did the trick, she didn’t much care how she came across.

His mouth opened and closed a few more times and he shifted his weight between his feet. There was panic growing in his eyes.

Tina let her head fall backwards for a moment in exasperation. This poor, awkward man. She knew she was putting him on the spot, but with the outbreak of war on the horizon in the next few hours, the time had come whether he was ready for it or not. Whether he wanted it or not. With news of the Ministry’s decision to move on Grindelwald and her hectic days of strategizing and training and coffee and paperwork and arguing with idiot bureaucrats, the two had hardly had time to exchange two words in the hallway over the last few weeks. The scarce moments that they were able to steal had been her saving grace.

And now in less than an hour she would be leaving again, this time to Austria with a team of aurors in tow and straight into the face of danger.

With renewed resolve and a forced calmness, she straightened her back, took a step forward, and held his gaze in what she hoped was a commanding stare.

“Mercy Lewis, Newt! We’re about to start a war, and I came to tell you that I love you, so please, please if you love me just give me this one thing and kiss me before I go!” She said, her steely expression fading with each passing word into something that could only be called desperation. On the final syllable she reached out and grabbed his lapels, holding him barely at arm’s length. She waited for him, watched as her words sunk in, and her breath hitched when he drew his gaze up from where her knuckles were nearly turning white to meet her own eyes. There was desperation in them, too. And to Tina’s delight, in one second the desperation hardened into determination.

“Tina, I—“ He struggled to find the words, and the beginnings of a tear glittered in his right eye. She gave him a sympathetic look. His resolve returned.

“Right,” was all that he said as he took a step forward and pulled her the rest of the way into him, one arm ensnaring her waist and the other crossing her back almost to her opposing shoulder. When he moved, Tina’s emotions bubbled to the surface. He’s actually going to do it! She was beaming as he took one last hungry glance at her eyes, then trained his stare on her smiling lips.

He held her so close he hardly had to move to connect their lips. Tina sighed into the contact and wantonly raised her arms to rest on his shoulders. It only took a moment before Newt deepened the kiss. He tightened his grip around her waist and leaned forward, making her bend backwards slightly to adjust their balance.

Something between a growl and a whimper escaped him, causing Tina to almost laugh into their kiss. She let one of her hands fall to his shoulder as the other moved upwards to catch in the back of his hair. Their lips moved in sync and they’d hardly parted for air. It was her turn, and she pushed her way upright and then some, almost putting Newt in the same compromising position she had just been in. Then, Tina felt Newt bend at the knees and tighten his grip on her again, if such a thing was possible, and in one deft motion he straightened and leant even further back so that her feet lost contact with the ground. She broke their kiss for a second while she laughed in delight. Newt gave her a breathtaking smile in return, and more than hunger in his eyes there was happiness. And it melted her. She dipped her head forward and caught him in a much calmer, slower kiss, though it was no less scorching. He returned it with a sigh and gently lowered her to the ground.

Newt took a full step back when he broke them apart, and put his hand in his pocket as he ran his eyes over Tina. Merlin’s Beard, what had come over him? Her hair looked mussed and her cheeks flushed and her lips indeed well-kissed. And they were in public! Oh, yes. Of course. She’d said the word love. That word that had been clattering around in his head for well more than a year. Breaking his concentration when he was trying to write, or when he was sketching in the field, or when he was preparing dinner. But especially when he would read her letters during the excruciating months of her absence. But even more so whenever he got the chance to look at her, a blessedly more frequent occurrence since she her arrival in England two months ago. But most of all when she looked at him with her big, beautiful eyes. Exactly as she was doing now. He cleared his throat.

“Yes, well, I’m glad there was time at least for that,” he teased. He resisted the urge to break their eye contact; the feeling her fiery eyes communicated was almost too much for him to bear.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Thank you, Newt.” Her eyes softened and so did her smile. The heat melted and so did Newt. He moved closer and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“No need to thank me, love. I’m afraid that my motivations were at least half selfish. Plus, I’m afraid it’ll be fairly awkward if you thank me every time we kiss.” She bit the corner of her bottom lip in embarrassment, his favorite habit of hers, and he laughed. “And I promise that from now on I will kiss you every chance I get, if you’ll allow it. No wasting time.”

There was that smile again, and her surprisingly delicate hands returned to tracing his lapels. He shivered as the gesture moved light pressure up and down his chest.

“Merlin’s beard, Tina. I bloody love you,”

“Do you bloody love me?” She laughed at the Briticism, drawing out of him that slightly mischievous look he always donned for their banter.

“I absolutely bloody do. And I bloody have for a bloody long time,”

She laughed in earnest now, and with both of her hands drew his face into her for a quick, chaste kiss. The sparkle in her dark eyes nearly took his breath away.

“Tina, when this is over—“ She raised a finger to his lips. An understanding passed between them. This was enough, for now. He gave her a nod and she bustled away, en route to the gaggle of dark-coated aurors. He watched her go for a moment, and she never looked back. His heart fluttered as he reflected on what they’d just done. And said. And he turned back to Jacob, who was still holding the niffler and was wearing the cheesiest grin Newt had ever laid eyes on. He winced and dared to look at the four young ministry employees. All of them seemed incredibly interested in their notepads and quills.

[myspideysensesrtingling]

You’re So Punny

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

WC: 3655

Warnings: maybe one bad word if you squint?

Notes: This is for @sweetlysilent 6k writing challenge!! Congratulations, that’s a HUGE number!!!! Holy cow. Thank you to @starksnack @spidermanstrash and @uselesspileofstressandsadness for helping me!!!!!! ILY ALL!!!!! Anyhoo, the prompt is bold. Kinda cheesy. Whatever. My first one-shot. Forgive me. Fluff galore. Enjoy.

Summary: Peter met you in academic decathlon practice and his way of wooing you is not up to Ned’s standards.

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“Peter, you have to quit. That’s so stupid!”

Shoulder to shoulder, best friends Peter Parker and Ned Leeds walked down the emptying halls of the Midtown School of Science and Technology on their way to Monday’s academic decathlon practice. Classes were done for the day and students not in clubs were clearing out.

“No way, man. She likes it!” Peter told his friend. There was a girl - not just a girl to Peter, however - on the decathlon team. She was a new student that year and to say that Peter had fallen hard and fast would be an understatement. In fact, he knew the instant he fell; it was when he heard her laugh.

“No, dude,” Ned plead, “she laughs because she’s nice and doesn’t want it to be awkward.”

Peter always felt nervous around new people. Though she was pretty, he hadn’t been any more nervous meeting her that first day of decathlon practice than he was meeting anyone else. But those nerves caused by meeting a new person were just enough to get Peter to tell a stupid joke. A stupid joke that made her laugh that laugh. That laugh, elicited by his nervous-rambling-driven joke, pushed him into the deep end.

“Ned, trust me. She’s going to like this one.”

Since the day they met, Peter spent time before each decathlon practice finding one joke he could tell to hear her sweet laugh again. Just one. Nothing much; he couldn't be too obvious. He  didn’t want to go a day without hearing it and seeing the bright smile that came with it.

The boys stepped into the library where the decathlon team met to study. Most of the group was already seated at their usual table; the only person missing was their teacher, Mr. Harrington. He was usually last and kicked off the meetings, but everyone knew Peter’s other friend, MJ, was actually in charge.

“Hey guys, decided to show up after all?” MJ prompted as Peter and Ned found seats at the table. Peter sat with Y/N on his right, as usual, while Ned sat across from him and next to MJ.

“We aren’t late; Mr. Harrington isn’t here yet,” Ned argued. While he continued bickering with MJ, Y/N leaned over to Peter.

“You’re not late; we haven’t done anything yet. Don’t stress,” she assured with a smile.

The brief yet sweet smile was just enough to tease the butterflies in Peter’s stomach. He nodded back softly; whispering a quick thanks as Mr. Harrington finally strolled in.

“Alright, guys. Let’s get going. Today is English and grammar day, right?”

“Yep, and I’ve got all the practice questions ready to go,” MJ responded, clearly more prepared than her superior. Every day after school, they’d study by breaking into two teams – one on each side of the table – and go through a mock competition for the subject of the day. They used flashcards for each question and even mocked the buzzer-pressing aspect of the decathlon. After going through all the questions, they’d spend the remaining time studying to fill in their gaps in knowledge. MJ handed Mr. Harrington the study questions and they quickly got started.

“What is an intransitive phrasal verb?”

Y/N’s hand slammed down on the table expecting competition, shrinking slightly when no one else did.

“Y/N?” Mr. Harrington prompted.

“An intransitive phrasal verb is a verb made up of a main verb together with an adverb or preposition that lacks an object.”

“Can you give an example?”

“Sure,” she leaned back in her chair in thought only a moment before springing forward. “They set offearly to miss rush hour traffic.”

“What? That doesn’t mean anything,” taunted Flash, a cocky boy sitting on the opposite side of Y/N from Peter.

“No, she’s right!” Mr. Harrington exclaimed, as surprised as anyone else to find out what the term meant. Everyone mocked Flash’s blind arrogance except Peter, who was far more focused on how smart the beaming girl next to him was.

Question after question was asked and answered, with each team responding to their fair share. Finally, Mr. Harrington reached the last card of the deck and, therefore, last question of the day before they’d break out to study.

“In William Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Hamlet, better known as Hamlet,” Mr. Harrington read, “what are the names of the protagonist’s two acquaintances from the University of Wittenberg who serve as comedic relief throughout the story?”

Peter and Y/N simultaneously slammed their hands down only moments before MJ.

“Peter?”

“Rosencrantz and...and-” he panicked, suddenly blanking on the second character. Golderson?Ganderstan? He couldn’t remember and his team’s time was running out before the other team could steal.

“Guildenstern!” Y/N piped up to aid him as the other team sank into their seats with the weight of defeat.

“Nice teamwork, you two,” Mr. Harrington acknowledged as Peter took the opportunity to thank Y/N for saving him yet again. “Let’s take a quick break before we get to studying.”

“You nerds are annoying, I’m going to the bathroom,” Flash announced, seeking attention.

Peter’s eyes locked with Ned’s while everyone surrounding them shuffled. “If you’re American in the bathroom and American when you come out, what are you in the bathroom?” he teased quietly, drawing an eye roll from Ned.

“Wait, what?” Y/N asked, turning from her backpack hanging on the back of her chair to face the blushing boy next to her. The room fell silent as everyone looked to Peter, though he only saw her, staring at him as if it whatever he had to say was the most important thing she’d ever hear.

Ned groaned.

“If you’re American in the bathroom, and American when you come out,” Peter proposed, confident in his choice of this joke for the day despite his friend’s ridicule. “What are you in the bathroom?”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she broke eye contact and looked down in thought. Her tongue poked out the corner of her mouth, as it always did when she was perplexed. Normally the problems involved the quadratic formula or the laws of thermodynamics, but Peter didn’t care. Anything to see that face and hear that laugh.

She eventually looked up at him and shrugged her shoulders. “European,” Peter jeered, his grin initially met with silence.

He watched her eyes as the joke clicked, first opening wide with amusement as she failed to hold back a small snort. She then hung her head and chuckled to herself before finally leaning back and giggled, hand on her stomach as she tried to contain her outburst of laughter. A bewildered Ned stared at her; he loved Peter but couldn’t comprehend how another person could possibly find his friend’s joke remotely funny.

Peter didn’t care how. He didn’t care why. All he cared about was seeing her nose scrunch up and the corners of her eyes crease in her fit of laughter, leaning back in her chair as her feet kicked off the ground and she giggled, struggling for air, over a stupid pun. His stupid pun.

Tuesday was slated for geography questions. Everyone sat in their usual seats as Mr. Harrington pulled out the cards and got straight into asking questions.

“The assassination of one man and his wife is regarded as a major cause of World War I. Name this man, his nationality, his title, and the year in which he died.”

The slam of a hand on the table echoed throughout the mostly-empty library. “Archduke Franz Ferdinand from Austria-Hungary died in 1914!”

As usual, questions flew by. Peter answered some questions, Y/N answered some questions - earning one courageous high-five from Peter - Ned answered questions. Everyone got at least a couple right.

“In what year did Switzerland gain its independence?”

“1291!”

Peter’s eyes lit up at the mention of the keyword for his joke of the day while Ned’s eyes characteristically rolled. Once again, Ned was not satisfied with Peter’s flirting strategy nor the joke itself. Peter leaned over to Y/N anyway, snickering and whispering the joke in her ear.

“What’s the best part about living in Switzerland?” he prompted, leaning away. Her eyebrows furrowed in brief thought before she shook her head in response.

“I don’t know,” Peter answered, “but the flag is a bigplus.”

Again it happened. She pressed her eyelids closed, rocked her head back, and blew air out her nose before it turned into a full-on giggle that distracted the whole team. Peter repeated the joke for the group, earning no more laughs than Y/N’s, but he couldn’t have cared less. The joke fulfilled its purpose.

Wednesday arrived and Peter couldn’t help but feel like he was on a roll. She laughed harder than ever at his jokes the last two days and, upon entering the library and seeing her in the same spot as always with his seat open on her left, struggled to contain his adoration. He hung his backpack on the back of the chair and slid into it, glancing at her as she turned to greet him.

“Hey, Y/N,” he mumbled, voice wavering, “You having a good day?” A simple question, sure, but her eyes twinkled as he spoke to her.

“Yeah,” she responded shyly, corners of her mouth tilting up as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah Peter, I am, thanks. How are you?”

“Great,” he admitted as he spotted Mr. Harrington walk in. “Really great.” She has no idea.

“Marathons are measured to be 26 miles 385 yards. How many meters is that?”

Pencils squeaked against notepaper and fingers hurriedly tapped against calculators for only a moment until Y/N shouted out the answer.

“Forty-two-thousand-one-hundred-ninety-five!”

Mr. Harrington nodded, running out of praise to give his students as they answered nearly every question correctly. Flustered, he dropped half the deck of cards and frantically tried to pick them up. Peter jumped at the opportunity to talk to Y/N; Ned was appalled as usual.

“Hey, Y/N,” Peter whispered, poking her shoulder and leaning over to her.

“Hmm?” She raised her eyebrows and grinned prematurely, growing accustomed to Peter’s quick quips whenever there was a lull in studying.

“Why can’t a nose,” he paused to point at her nose; the tip of his finger hovering centimeters away from her face, “be 12 inches long?”

Her forehead creased and tongue stuck out the corner subconsciously. She pressed her lips together, frustrated with the fact she could solve complex math problems but not Peter’s silly riddles. Eventually she gave up; she always enjoyed the goofy grin on his face when he got to spoil the answer for her. “I don’t know, Pete. Why can’t a nose be 12 inches long?”

“Because then,” he teased, “it would be a foot.”

For a moment his heart sank as she simply stared back at him. No laughter, no smile, no expression at all. She could only mask it so long, however. Her nostrils slowly flared as she lost control, lips pressing together harder and harder. Her cheeks rounded as she fought the smile from breaking, but it was too late. She burst out giggling that signature giggle, that one that multiplied the butterflies in Peter’s stomach exponentially. She looked at him sitting next to her out of the corner of her eye before playfully shoving him to the side and dropping her head onto her arms on the desk.

“I can’t handle your jokes, Peter Parker!” she said, voice muffled in her sleeves. He pulled her back up by the shoulder closest to him, chuckling to himself and shaking his head as she sat upright again. She turned to him as Mr. Harrington started reading the next question. She somehow had a way of feigning annoyance while still beaming up at him. And Peter? He lived for it.

Thursday’s study session rolled around like any other. As Peter and Ned walked to the library at the end of the regular school day, Peter once again rattled off the joke he prepared.

“Today’s history. I’m hoping there’ll be a question about a dam or a fish.”

“Peter, this is really setting up to be an awful joke. Are you seriously using this random garbage to flirt with her? Dams and fish really don’t get people in the mood,” he said, finger quotes and all. “You know how to use dams to get her in the mood? You say, “Damn, you are so beautiful,” or something normal, for goodness sake!” Ned’s tolerance for Peter’s inability to simply talk to the girl he liked so much was dwindling.

Peter shrugged him off as the two of them entered the library. Mr. Harrington followed shortly after.

“What day is today?”

“Thursday,” MJ asserted, “but we’re going to need to practice with much tougher questions than that if we’re going to be ready for the decathlon in a few weeks.”

“I’m choosing to ignore you. Ok, first question,” Mr. Harrington started, “why was the Hoover Dam sometimes referred to as the Boulder Dam until a resolution was passed that officially declared it the Hoover Dam?”

With dams on his mind - and not joke ones - from his conversation only moments ago, Ned surged at the chance to answer the question. “Many people didn’t want to call it the Hoover Dam because they felt Herbert Hoover, the president after which it was named, was partly to blame for the Great Depression.”

Sticking directly to his playbook, Peter leaned over to Y/N while Mr. Harrington told Ned he was correct and shuffled to the next card.

“What did the fish say when he swam into a wall?” He asked, whispering in her ear.

“What wall would a--ohhh,” she sighed, having put together the pieces. Her lips widened into a closed mouth smile as she faced Peter, closing her eyes and pressing her lips together to keep the giggles down. Peter grinned expectantly, wondering if she really had the right answer for once.

She opened her eyes and they immediately locked with Peter’s. “Dam,” the both muttered softly, Peter sporting a broadening smile and her fighting - unsuccessfully, of course - to contain the giggles. She hung her head, stifling her laughter as best as possible. Peter reveled in the moment; he couldn’t even see her face but it was enough for him to know she was laughing and that he helped paint a smile on her beautiful face. He nudged her shoulder to get her attention as Mr. Harrington started to read out the following question; the last thing he wanted was to get her in trouble.

“What is one way the Europeans justified their land policy in North America in the context of taking land from Great Plains Indians?”

Peter marveled in the fact that somehow, though he had been distracting her the first half of the question, she found a way to be the first to answer it.

“Y/N?”

“They claimed the Great Plains Indians were nomads and therefore had no ownership of the land in the first place.”

Ned was right: damn, she was beautiful. Peter also thought she was brilliant, however, in every sense of the word.

On Friday, Mr. Harrington made a deal (with MJ’s approval, of course) to let everyone go early since the team had done so well all week. They just had to get through the review questions and wouldn’t have to stay and study. As the deck of remaining science questions thinned, Peter anxiously awaited a question involving the topic of his joke for Y/N. His knee involuntarily bounced like a jackhammer while he sat, his focus on the girl by his side but his mind drifting to places far away from the Midtown library.

“Two solid spheres of radius R made of the same type of steel are placed in contact, as shown in the figure.” Mr. Harrington slid a piece of paper with the diagram onto the table for the students to see before continuing. “The magnitude of the gravitational force that they exert on each other is F1. When two other solid spheres of radius 3R made of this steel are placed in contact, what is the magnitude of the gravitational force that they exert on each other?”

Y/N jumped in for what Peter felt like the thousandth time that day. Is there anything she doesn’t know? “81F1, based on Newton’s Law of Gravitation.” Flash was sick of this girl stealing his thunder and loudly sighed while rolling his eyes.

“Correct, Y/N. And Flash, I saw that. You can’t answer the next question,” he commanded, having had enough of Flash’s pouting. “Last one before the weekend. Which NASA mission in what year first put man on the moon?”

All Peter’s twitchy feelings channeled into an aggressive slap of his hand down on the desk. The other students, some trying to hit the table themselves, recoiled at the sound that now reverberated off the library walls. The other students raised their eyebrows at his sudden outburst, exacerbating his anxiety. As he surveyed the group, hesitant to answer, his eyes fell upon Y/N, whose eyebrows were raised but in a tickled sort of way; the corners of her mouth peeled up as she smiled as his goofy competitiveness.

A wave of calm flooded through him as the corners of her eyes pinched together. “Apollo 8, NASA’s second manned mission to the moon, sent astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin to walk on the moon.” He inhaled deeply as he finished his response, watching as her smile widened even further with his correct answer.

“Great, Peter. Good job, guys. Enjoy the study break and have a good weekend,” Mr. Harrington concluded as he exited.

Peter nudged Y/N as everyone was packing up their backpacks. He was greeted by her already-expectant face; it was as if it was preparing to smile and laugh just by looking at him. “Did you hear the story about the claustrophobic astronaut?” he asked her.

She cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips. Her eyes never left his; she searched them as if hoping to find the answer beneath their deep brown hue. “No, Peter, I didn’t.”

He grinned back at her. “She just needed a little...space.”

Her reaction was instantaneous; her head dropped back in laughter. Her chair leaned back with her, tipping just past its point. Her laugh faded out as she realized she was falling, but Peter was there to catch the chair without even moving from his own. Knowingly safe, she returned to laughing without even a second to pause. Peter pushed her slightly, drawing an eruption of even more as she lost her balance while she tried to pick up her heavy backpack. Finally, under control, she waved and walked out of the library just a few yards ahead of Peter and Ned.

“Dude, you’re so weird. She needed space?” Ned groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Hang on Ned, I have to do something really quick.”

Peter grabbed his backpack straps and trotted up ahead to catch up with Y/N as they walked through the front doors to the outside of the school where parents picked up their kids. “Hey, Y/N,” he called, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

She turned around, smiling as soon as she caught a glimpse of his face. His heart pounded in his chest but it was warm, so warm at the sight of her exceptionally silly yet elegant smile.

“Hey, Pete. What’s up? You find an extra joke to hold me over for the weekend?” She giggled, unknowingly making his heart pound that much harder as he scoured the depths of his brain for one more joke, the one that would make this perfect. And then it hit him.

“Uh, yeah, kind of, actually!” He cracked jokes all week but for some reason this one didn’t want to come out. It was just another pun, but this time a little more was at stake. “Are you...are you made of copper and tellurium?” He paused, recharging his courage to deliver the punchline. “Because you’re Cu-Te and...and I was wondering...if you’d like to go out sometime? On a…a date?”

Peter gripped the straps of his backpack tighter. So tight even, his knuckles turned white. He didn’t realize how sticky his palms were until this moment he waited for her response. She looked back at him, biting her bottom lip as a grin stretched wider and wider across her face until she succumbed to her usual giggle fit. Now biting her lip again, she looked down, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her right ear before bringing her gaze back to Peter’s hopeful eyes.

“Peter, I’m very flattered, but that is the worst joke I’ve ever heard,” she admitted, instantly falling back into snickering. “But to answer your question, yes, I’d love to go on a date with you.”

His eyes danced as if seeing the stars for the first time. “Really? I mean - sounds good, yeah, I’ll text you?”

She smiled again, charmed by his nerves. A girl that laughed at both his nervous wavering and his science puns? Peter knew he hit the jackpot.

“Sounds good,” she answered, eyes twinkling up at his. Her own heart swelling, she rested her hand on his shoulder and stood up on her tiptoes, leaning in to press her smiling lips to his cheek ever so softly. Peter stood paralyzed all the way until she leaned back onto her heels and turned to walk to her dad’s car waiting in the pick-up lane. She got in the car and typed something on her phone, then pointed from her phone to him through the window and waved as her dad drove away. Peter watched as the car disappeared around the corner, only brought back to reality by a quiet buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: Do you like science? Because I’ve got my ion you ;)

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