#beneath the British Library

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

One would think that, if W.I.T. had an archive of alien artefacts and intelligence,

it would be housed beneath the British Library.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Neil Gaiman and Rob Wilkins at the British Library event The Worlds of Terry Pratchett: Neil Gaiman and Rob Wilkins 21.11.2023

Neil: The weirdest bit, the one moment that I remember as being the strangest, most quintessentially writing Good Omens together moment was when we had to copy edit it. And we copy edited it in the basement of Victor Gollancz, which at that point was in 14 Henrietta Street. And the basement was a basement. There were chairs down there, no tables or anything. So we're sitting in these card chairs in this... my recollection is it did have a carpet. And the carpet was kind of damp. You know, beneath that carpet there was sort of strange puddles of... publishing. And Terry and I just sat there and we were both copy editing away. And then there was a point where Terry looked up and chuckled like anything. I said, 'What are you chuckling about?' He said, 'That joke you put in.' I said, 'Which one?' Because, you know, you want to hear which one. He read it out and I said, 'I didn't write that one'. He said, 'Well, I didn't write it'. And at that point you could tell from our eyes both of us had come to the conclusion that perhaps the manuscript was generating itself. And neither of us was prepared to say this out loud for fear of being thought a bit odd.

(you can watch the whole event here :))

[birdiewritessometimes]

Tutor

A/N: Soft hours ;-; this goes out to all my academic over achievers out there, girl me too. One beautiful anon who requested soft Matt or soft Theo got me thinking about this! Also please don’t skip meals, food is fuel <3

Also, also, I’ve heard your demands, and I have added a summary!

This has been a struggle tbh, I love it but I’m also not happy with it. Oh well, I hope you guys enjoy it <3

Summary: As Professor Flitwick assign you to tutor Theodore Nott in charms you two develop a strange friendship that brings a new set of friends into your life. Theodore helps you see that there might be more to life than just studying in the library every day.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw!reader

Themes/warnings: Reader is overworking herself, skipping meals, self-doubt, sleep-troubles, cursing, fluff, found family, clichés (but oh what I love them), kissing, Italian pet names (Italians, I’ve tried to do some research, and I hope I didn’t butcher them, please let me know if I did though!), is this qualified as a slow burn?,  mentions of a dead parent.

Word count: 10 000-ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

“But Professor, please. I really need to focus on my own work.” You pleaded with your charms professor and your head of house, Professor Flitwick. He was a short, clever man. You really liked him; he was a good teacher and a good head of house. Which is why you were feeling slightly guilty for pleading with him not to assign you to be a tutor.

“I’m sorry Miss l/n, I’m afraid you’re the best one for the job. Mr. Nott really needs an outstanding in his OWL in charms. Professor Snape asked me to help make it happen, and I have no doubt you are more than capable.” Flitwick said, an encouraging smile on his face. You felt your shoulders sag in defeat.

“Are you sure you can’t ask anybody else?” You asked, your last simmer of hope to be able to study undisturbed faded as you saw your professors head shake no.

“Alright, I’ll do it.” You said in defeat. Professor Flitwick smiled up at you from his seat behind his wooden desk.

“Excellent Miss l/n!” He said as he clapped his hands together. He paused when he saw your defeated expression, “Oh, Miss l/n, please try to see this as a learning opportunity, maybe young Mr. Nott could teach you something too.” He added, a sympathetic smile on his face as he surveyed your defeated form.

“Okay, I will.” You said, trying to brighten your own voice, “I’ll see you later, Professor.” You added while giving him a small smile before turning around to leave his office. Professor Flitwick’s office led out into the charms classroom that resided on the third floor, in the charms corridor. The classroom was dimly lit, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow on the wooden floor in the middle of the classroom. The benches were empty except for one where a tall boy sat. His legs were sprawled out in front of him, effectively making the chair look small beneath him. He was fidgeting with the ring that sat on his index finger. His head shot up when he heard your footsteps echo on the wooden floorboards.

“I’ll tutor you every Tuesday and Thursday, four o’clock in the library, don’t be late.” You said after you stopped right in front of the desk he was sitting in. He was looking up at you with his steely blue eyes, a tired expression in his eyes. He gave you a short nod as he stopped fidgeting with his ring.

“Good, I’ll, uh, see you then.” You said, giving what you thought was a friendly smile. The least you could do was to at least try to be friendly, it wasn’t his fault that you were in this situation. Come to second thought, it kind of was, but you can’t blame the guy for being stupid.

“Right, see you.” He said after he cleared his throat. His voice was deep and rich. You noticed that he didn’t have a British accent like most students in the school. You couldn’t quite place your finger on what accent it was though. But it added to the smoothness of his voice making you wonder why he didn’t speak more often. You gave him another small smile before turning around to head to the library.

The library was quiet when you entered, some students were scattered around the room. The smell of old books and burning fires hit your nose as you walked towards your usual space. It was in the corner, near one of the fires making it the perfect spot for studying, away from the cold draft that usually swept through the castle regardless of season. You spent most of your free time studying, finding yourself lost in books and books about different magical topics. You did this mostly because your dream was to one day become an unspeakable. The Department of Mysteries intrigued you but the way there meant top grades and hard work. And that’s just what you did, worked hard and got top grades. But that also meant that you had to spend your free time in the library, studying.

You sat down in one of the cushioned chairs around the table, gently placing your Ravenclaw robe on the seat next to you along with your bag. You pulled out the ancient runes-book. The worn leather rough against your fingers as you placed it on the table along with your quill, inkpot and some parchment. You opened the book at the bookmark and got to work. For hours you poured over the runes, their translations and writing down their meanings. The only thing that reminded you of the time was your back being stiff and your butt numb. Taking a glance at your watch you noticed that it was almost time for curfew. With a yawn you stood up. You quickly packed your things, grabbed your robe and hurried through the castle and up to Ravenclaw tower. After you got ready for bed, you fell asleep the second your head hit your pillow, sleeping through yet another restless night.

The next day you awoke feeling tired. It was a Tuesday which meant tutoring with Theodore after your last lesson of the day. Noticing the time, and that breakfast was soon to be over, you hurriedly got ready. You added light makeup to hide the dark circles that was accumulating under your eyes from another night where it felt like you didn’t sleep. Collecting your books for the day you dashed out of your dorm and hurried to the great hall. When you entered you found your seat next to the girls you share your dorm with. They were by no means your friends, but you could eat and make small talk with them, which was good enough for you. When you had quickly eaten a piece of toast you once again dashed away towards your classes for the day. The lessons went by quickly, like usual. Before you knew it lunchtime came. You actually had time to eat your meal calmly before you headed to your last two lessons for the day. These lessons went by as quickly as the ones in the morning did. Maybe it was because you had revised the material beforehand, or maybe time just went by quicker when you learned something.

It was a quarter to four when you walked into the familiar air of old books and warm fires of the library. You took your usual seat by the fire, placed your robes and bag on the chair next to you before picking up your copy of the Standard Book of Spells, grade 5, the large book heavy in your hands as you placed it on the table with a thud. You gently flickered through it as you waited for Theodore to show up. You refreshed your memory for some of the spells as you looked through the book. After around five minutes you heard low footsteps come nearer your spot by the warm fire, away from the chilly autumn breeze that seemed to drift through the castle. Looking up you saw Theodore approaching your table. His hair was its usual floppy self. He had rid himself of his Slytherin cloak, the material hanging over his forearm. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as well as loosened his tie and leaving the top button unbuttoned. You kept looking him over until he stood beside you, looking down at you.

“Hi.” You said softly as you gestured for him to sit. He gave you a nod of acknowledgement before placing his bag and cloak on a chair around the table before sitting down in the seat next to yours. You let him take his time packing up, he was early after all.

“So, is there anything in particular you want to start with?” You asked cautiously when he had placed his copy of the textbook on the table, along with a notebook, a quill and an inkpot.

“I’ve had problems with the locomotion charm.” He shrugged nonchalantly. So, he was not a talkative person, that’s fine, you thought. You were surprised by his honesty, though you by no means had an opinion on the boy beside you, you knew he was friends with a group of troublemaking boys. You had assumed he would wave it all off or say that he didn’t need your help, so when he admitted, although with some air of nonchalance, what he was struggling with it surprised you.

“Okay,” you nodded, “how about we start with that one and then revise the others?” You suggested as you flipped through the worn book to the page of the locomotion charm. You saw how Theodore nodded in agreement with your suggestion. You went over the basic theory of the charm, explaining things such as wand movement and what the spell was useful for. It took you around five minutes before you zipped closed your pencase, plopping it down before the tall, brooding boy next to you.

“Alright, enough chitchat, show me what you’ve got.” You said with what you hoped was an encouraging smile. Not that he was looking at you, he was busy sending an icy glare at your pink fuzzy pencase. He was looking like he was personally offended by its presence. You flicked your hair over your shoulder as you turned in your seat to face him.

“Okay, so what crimes has my pencase committed against you?” You asked, a playful note in your voice as you studied him. This seemed to pull him out of his staring match with the pencase as he raised an eyebrow at you in a silent question.

“Don’t look at me, it was you who was having a staring competition with an inanimate object.” You shrugged, a small giggle escaping you. You saw how he cracked the smallest of smiles at your comment. You had to admit that his smile was cute, really cute actually.

“Alright, come on, show me.” You nodded at your pencase again and his small smile fell. With a sigh he picked up his wand from the table. He cleared his throat as he pointed his wand at the fuzzy pencase in front of him.

“Locomoto pencase.” He said, his voice smoot and deep. He did the upwards motion with his wand, but nothing happened. You noticed right after he had said the incantation that he has mispronounced it. He let out a sigh of frustration as he looked away from you, embarrassed. You felt some sympathy for him as you placed a gentle hand on his arm, effectively making him look at you.

“Hey, you did good. You just didn’t pronounce the incantation correctly,” You said softly, a kind smile on your face, “it’s locomotor with an r.” You explained.

“Alright, let me try again.” He muttered, surprising you with his words. You nodded encouragingly, letting him try again. This time the pencase hovered for a while before falling down on the table in front of him with a low thud.

“See! Try concentrating more next time.” You said, excitement in your voice. Theodore flashed you that small smile again, making you feel warm inside, before trying the spell for the third time. He made the pencase move around the table for a while before it fell with a thud again.

“Good job Theodore!” You cheered him on, “how about some theory?” You suggested, to which he nodded. He placed his wand on the table, scooting back in his chair, sprawling his legs out as he picked up the leatherbound textbook in his large hands, effectively making it look weirdly small. Your eyes travelled up to his face and saw that he was already looking at you, an expectant look in his eyes. You quickly looked away from him as you cleared your throat. You felt a blush dust your cheeks when you heard a faint chuckle from the boy next to you. Straightening in your chair you started to explain some more in-depth theory. Time went on rather quickly as you quizzed Theodore on some things and asked him to explain some others back to you. He was improving quickly, making you feel somewhat proud of him. In the last moments before it was time for dinner, he practiced the charm once more on your pencase. This time the pencase zoomed up and down from the table, making it do flips and other tricks around the table before he stopped it right in front of you. The pencase fell on top of your book with a muted thud.

“Good job Theodore! Look at you!” You said, not being able to contain your enthusiasm. He let out a shy sort of chuckle at that as he averted his eyes from you.

“Thanks for helping me.” He mumbled, still looking away. His words stunned you as you turned your head to really look at him. He didn’t seem like his usual stoic, broody self. He seemed more embarrassed and defeated now, making the sympathy you had for him earlier to come back.

“Hey,” you said softy, placing your hand on his arm effectively making him look at you once again, “we all need a little bit of help from time to time, it’s nothing to worry about.” He looked at you, an unreadable look in his usually tired eyes. The background faded as your heartbeat sped up, making you feel warm inside.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, not tearing his eyes from yours. The air around you shifted as you looked into each other’s eyes, making your heartbeat race even more. The air around you became almost palpable as you sat there together.

“You’re welcome.” You breathed out. Your eye-contact broke when there was a loud thud from someone dropping a book somewhere in the library. Coming back to reality you straightened up as Theodore cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I’ll, uh, see you Thursday?” He said as he hurriedly put his things in his bag. You nodded at him.

“Yeah, see you Thursday.” You mumbled, giving him a small smile before he walked off to dinner. You slowly packed your things away in your bag before you made your way to the great hall for dinner as well. On your walk there he was on your mind. You wondered why he was so cold and quiet. Your mind drifted to his deep, smooth voice as you thought back to the tutoring session. And how he had beautiful eyes, cold, blue and tired, yet they intrigued you. Like he was pulling you into him. You were lost in thought when you arrived at the big oak doors that led to the great hall. You absentmindedly walked in and sat down at the long wooden table, next to the girls in your dormitory. You plated some beef stew and potatoes on the porcelain plate in front of you.

As you ate your eyes drifted over the great hall, scanning the groups of students who were chatting to each other excitedly. Your eyes soon drifted over the Slytherin table. The table was filled with students, some were chatting, others reading or just minding their own business. Your eyes then met the steely blue ones that belonged to Theodore. He caught you off guard, but you couldn’t seem to look away from him either. You sat there looking at each other for a moment, the background once again fading, before he looked away first, laughing at something his friends said. You turned back to your food, eating as you thought about him.

He remained in your thoughts during the next day. You found yourself thinking about him when you were eating your meals, when you were walking to classes, and you even found your thoughts drifting to him when you were studying. You were wondering things about him that you have never cared about before with others. Like where he grew up? Did he have any siblings? What was his parents like? While you found yourself thinking more about him you started to notice him more around the castle too, noticing him in classes or that your paths crossed on your way to different lessons.

The day had passed quickly, now with your thoughts occupied by both Theodore and school. You had just finished dinner and were on your way towards the library to get in some more studying before bed. When you entered the entrance hall you heard rowdy voices from a group of boys and when you lifted your gaze you saw the Slytherin quidditch team. You assumed they were heading to the quidditch pitch to practice since they were walking towards the great doors. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of being outside right now. The rain was whipping against the windows of the castle as the winds were harsh. Your eyes fell on Theodore who were walking next to his friend, Mattheo Riddle. You never thought you would find a quidditch player attractive but by judging from the leap your heart did when you saw him in his uniform you found yourself proven wrong.

Pictures of Theodore in his emerald green quidditch robes, his broom propped up on his shoulder, flooded your brain as you walked to the library. None of the boys had noticed you when they had stridden across the entrance hall and out into the stormy weather. Opening the doors to the library you were immediately enveloped in a warm hug of burning fires and old books. You slowly made your way to your usual seat in the far back corner. The wooden chair scraped against the floor as you took your seat on the cushioned seat. You pulled out the leather-bound transfiguration book, opting to read up on the topic Professor McGonagall discussed during the transfiguration lesson you had earlier during the day. The rain was smattering against the window next to the fireplace, the sound mingling with the cracks and pops of the burning wood in the fire making you relax as you settled in your seat to study the whole evening. You worked long into the hours of the evening, your numb butt once again reminding you of curfew, making you hastily pack up your books and other materials before making your way to bed.

Thursday went by quickly, lessons flying by in a haste and before you knew it you were seated in the library, a quarter to four in the afternoon, flipping through the Standard Book of Spells, grade 5 again. It was a particularly cold day today, making you wear your Ravenclaw sweater over your button up to shield yourself from the cold mid-November air. The fire next to your table seemed to nothing to keep the chill at bay. You sent a glare at it as you shivered once more, trying to urge it to make the room hotter, or else.

“Look who’s now having a staring contest with an inanimate object.” The deep voice of Theodore pulled you out of your thoughts about threatening a fire, you really needed a good night’s sleep. You looked to the side of you and saw how Theodore plopped down in his chair, his fluffy hair flopping on his forehead in the process. He was wearing his Slytherin uniform in his usual dishevelled way, his robes draped over his arm once again.

“What did that fire do to you, huh?” He asked, a small smirk on his lips when he turned back to look at you, the Standard Book of Spells in his hands.

“It didn’t keep me warm.” You said, your teeth clattering slightly as you spoke. You were rubbing your arms with your hands, trying to warm yourself with the friction. Theodore let out a huff-like chuckle.

“Come on y/n, it’s not that cold.” He said, the smirk slightly wider now, making you smile lightly at him. It seemed like he was more comfortable around you this time, already talking more than he did the last time you met.

“It is, but that’s no- hey!” You let out when he stood up and before you knew it, he had grabbed his robes that he had hung over the back of one of the chairs around the table and draped it over your shoulders. His action stunned you as he pulled the material tighter around your shoulders, fixing it.

“Where did you put your own robes?” He muttered as he sat down in his seat again, looking at you expectantly for an answer. Coming back from your momentary chock you looked at him, sure a blush was on your cheeks.

“I forgot them in my dorm.” You mumbled, now feeling the heat of the blush on your cheeks. Your fingers moved to clutch the woolly fabric of his winter robes, subconsciously pulling it closer around you as his cologne hit your nose. It smelled fresh, like freshly laundered clothes but it had a hint of citrus and the obvious cigarette smell that lingered on the garment. The smell was surprisingly comforting as it surrounded you like a hug. Theodore let out a chuckle at your answer to his question.

“So, what are we doing today, teach?” He then asked, a tone on nonchalance in his voice as he turned back to face straight forward. The nickname made you smile, it made you grateful that he was trying to be friendly too.

“I was thinking that we really perfect the locomotion charm, you know so it really sticks.” You suggested. Theodore nodded as he picked up his wand. He was more eager today than he was last Tuesday, it made you smile as you zipped up your pencase again and plopped it on the table before him. He cleared his throat before performing the spell. You sat next to him as you looked on as he made your pencase move around on the table. It seemed like he lost concentration once because he dropped the pencase. But you encouraged him to go again, and he did. After he was done making your pencase perform circus tricks on the table he tried the charm on something heavier, your stack of schoolbooks that you had placed on the table for later. He had no problem making them move around at his will as he performed the charm.

Tutoring Theodore was easier than you thought, he seemed to have no problem learning and perfecting the spells when you were working on them together. He took his time and perfected the locomotion charm just as you had suggested, even going so far as to answer every question you asked him about it correctly. You felt proud of him when your tutoring session came to an end.

“Really good job Theodore!” You beamed at him, the feelings of happiness and pride taking over you. He smiled shyly as he thanked you, not being used to the praise that you were giving him. You might have been seeing things, but you were sure you saw a faint blush on the boy’s cheeks from your complement. As it was time for dinner he stood up and slowly packed away his things.

“Oh, right, thank you for letting me borrow your robes, Theodore.” You smiled as you started to shrug of the garment that had been keeping you warm the two hours you had been working together. He shook his head at you, making you pause.

“You can keep it for tonight if you want, I have a couple of others.” He said, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets and looked down at his feet. You felt a blush creep up on your face again.

“Are you sure? Aren’t you going to be cold?” You asked shyly making him look at you, that small smirk on his face again.

“Nah, I’m good, you look like you need it more.” He said, his tone considerably lighter than before.

“I’ll give it back to you tomorrow?” You suggested to which he shrugged his shoulders somewhat nonchalantly.

“That’s fine, honestly it’s no stress.” He said as he hoisted his bag on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Theodore.” You smiled at him gratefully as you pulled his cloak tighter around your body again.

“It’s fine, bella.” He said casually, but as he said the nickname it clicked in your head.

“You’re Italian?” You blurted out as he was about to turn around to leave. He raised an eyebrow at you, the smirk back on his face again.

“I am, why?” He asked, somewhat amused by your outburst. You started to feel stupid by your actions, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“I, uh, have been trying to figure out where your accent’s form…” You trailed off, feeling more stupid by the second. He let out a chuckle at this.

“My mum was Italian; I moved here when I was 10.” He explained but your mind got stuck on ‘was’. His mum was Italian, not is. He had lost his mum. The thought weighed on your mind as you looked up at him as he stood beside your chair. You weren’t sure on what to say to this. You saw how his smirk had dropped slightly when he had mentioned his mum as well, it was obviously a painful topic for him.

“Oh, I’m sorry Theodore.” You said softly, feeling heartbroken for him. He gave you a half-hearted smile.

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago.” He shrugged, trying to come off as nonchalant. You gave him a weak smile, still feeling very sorry for him. He gave you a half smile back before clearing his throat.

“Well, I got to go to dinner,” He said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, “see you, bella.” He said, his small smirk back on his face again, making you smile back at him.

“See you, Theodore.” You said softly before he turned around and walked towards the exit of the library. You looked after him until he was out of your line of sight before you reluctantly turned back to your books, picking up your textbook on the goblin rebellions. You had an essay due next week and decided now would be a good time to start writing it. Once again you worked into the long hours of the evening before you decided that enough was enough and made your way to Ravenclaw tower. Theodores cloak was heavy and warm against your shoulders as you walked through the corridors and up the staircases that lead to Ravenclaw tower. When you arrived at your dorm you folded the cloak neatly before getting ready for bed.

When you awoke Friday morning you were surprised that you felt rested for the first time in a long time. You felt like your mood were better than normal, the usual stress you felt now better. You got ready, collected your books for the day and grabbed Theodores robes before you went down to breakfast, assuming you would see him there, but you were wrong. No big deal, he maybe overslept, and you were just handing him his robes back, you could do that at any time. Throughout the day you looked for Theodore in the crowds, classes and during the meals. It was now dinnertime, and you hadn’t seen him all day. As you walked towards the library after dinner, you decided to actually go to the quidditch match to give him back his robes tomorrow. It was the first game of the season, Slytherin against Hufflepuff and you knew Theodore was on the Slytherin quidditch team alongside his friends.

After another long night of studying you awoke Saturday morning, feeling tired once more. You dragged yourself out of your warm bed, feeling shivers go through your body as your feet hit the cold floor. You made your bed, making sure the royal blue cover laid neatly over your bed before you tied back the blue curtains with the bronze cords. You looked out of the window to see the weather, it looked like a crisp day, the grounds were covered in glittering white frost, but no snow to be seen and the sky was clear. If you had to guess this had to be optimal quidditch conditions. You picked out a warm, comfortable outfit, bringing a warm jacket, mittens and earmuffs to keep warm in the high quidditch stands. Topping it all off with your Ravenclaw scarf. When you arrived at breakfast most of the students had left, probably to get warmer clothes for the match. You ate a piece of toast and had a cup of warm coco before you started to make your way to the stands. You were right, it was very cold out, you were thanking yourself for brining such warm clothing as the icy winds swept through the high stands where you were standing along the rest of your house.

You were standing next to the girls with whom you shared your dorm, Theodore’s robes neatly folded in your mitten clad hands. You made small talk with them as you waited for the match to start. The spectators erupted in cheers (and boos) as the two teams made their way onto the pitch. The seventh year Slytherin captain shook hands with Hufflepuffs captain Cedric Diggory, a handsome sixth year. You saw how both teams mounted their brooms as your eyes scanned the Slytherin team for Theodore. You found him just as they kicked off, he was soaring towards the Slytherin goal posts. He was a keeper. You heard Madam Hootch’s whistle signalling that the game had begun but your eyes were on him the entire game. He was unbelievable. He caught almost every ball, only letting in one or two goals, you weren’t counting. You couldn’t help but think about how good he looked in his green quidditch robes, hair windswept and his usually tired eyes determined. The Slytherin team were making goal after goal and they were leading by so much that, after about two hours, when Cedric had caught the snitch Slytherin still won by sixty points.

You saw how the Slytherin team were cheering on Theodore and Blaise, one of the chasers that did the most goals, when you started to make your way down to the pitch along with the rest of the spectators. You slowly made your way onto the pitch, feeling out of your element and uncertain what to do you decided to stand slightly to the side to let the boys celebrate together. You were standing next to a Slytherin girl in your year, Pansy Parkinson as the two of you waited for the boys to calm down.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” She asked with the same air of nonchalance that most Slytherins seemed to have as she looked at the group. You knew who her boyfriend was, Draco Malfoy, the seeker on the team.

“Oh, I, uh, no-”

“Bella!” Theodore interrupted you as he jogged up to you a surprised but happy look on his face. You felt your face break out in a smile as you saw him running towards you. But before you could say or do anything he had reached you, thrown his arms around you and picked you up, spinning you around. You let out a squeal in surprise quickly letting one of your arms snake around the tall boy’s neck so you wouldn’t fall, you other hand holding the reason you came to the match in the first place, his cloak.

“What are you doing here?” He asked you as he put you down, a broad smile on his face as he looked down at you. You were sure you were blushing from his hug, but you decided to let it go, emotions were just running high after the match. He would have hugged anyone like that, you thought.

“I came to congratulate you on your good match,” You said, and you saw how his smile became even wider in happiness, it made you smile too, “and to give you this back, since I didn’t find you yesterday.” You said softly as you handed him the thick fabric of his cloak. He took it in one of his large hands, the other, you just noticed, was still resting on your waist. If you weren’t blushing from before you had to be now, hopefully you could blame the wind. Just as he was about to say something he was interrupted by his best friend and one of the beaters, Mattheo.

“Oi, Theo, who are you hiding there?” You could hear the teasing note in the voice. Theodore was giving you an apologetic look before he gave you a gentle squeeze on the waist before letting go just as Mattheo, Lorenzo, the other beater, and Blaise joined you. They were looking at the two of you with great interest making you chuckle in embarrassment.

“Uh, hi, I’m y/n, I tutor Theodore.” You said while giving a wave at the boys, to break the weird silence that had fallen upon the group.

“Teach?” They all exclaimed, making you smile and raise an eyebrow in a silent question at Theodore who suddenly seemed to find the sky extremely interesting.

“We call you teach because Theo refused to tell us who you were.” Lorenzo explained.

“Yeah, he thought we were going to hassle you or something.” Mattheo playfully scoffed, making you let out a giggle.

“Yeah, because that’s not something you would do.” You said, a smile on your face.

“Exactly, we would- hang on, you’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?” Mattheo said, his eyes narrowed in a joking manner. You feigned a look of innocence.

“What? No of course not, I would never.” You let out, your voice dripping with fake innocence. Lorenzo, Blaise and Theodore chuckled as you batted your eyelashes jokingly at Mattheo.

“You know what, I like you,” Mattheo turned to Theodore, “I like her, why didn’t you introduce us right away, she can obviously handle some hassling.” He said, a smirk on his face making you laugh. Theodore shook his head in feign annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah whatever Mattheo.” Theodore muttered as he rolled his eyes before turning to you, “we have to go change, maybe I’ll see you later?” He asked, completely ignoring his friends who were now dramatically reenacting people kissing and batting their eyelashes at each other. You let out a chuckle at the groups antics before looking up at Theodore.

“That’s fine, I have to go study anyways.” You said smiling up at him. You missed the flash of disappointment in his eyes.

“Good job again with the match,” You smiled softly up at him before turning to his friends who abruptly stopped their antics, “It was nice meeting you guys, great match.” You smiled as you gave a small wave before turning around to trek up to the castle again. The boys shouted their various goodbyes at you making you turn around to smile and wave again at them. It was like something had shifted between you and Theodore after the quidditch match. Theodore became friendlier with you, he would even make you walk with him and his friends to the classes you shared. Sometimes if you had time after your tutoring sessions, you would join the Slytherin table for dinner, you now had a permanent spot among the group in between Lorenzo and Theodore, across from Mattheo. You found yourself growing fond of the others too, you would bicker with Mattheo like you were siblings, tease Theodore with Blaise and gossip with Lorenzo.

You became happier, more alive as you befriended the boys. You still spent most of your free time in the library studying, but you found yourself joining them for meals more often than not. You still had problems with sleep, sometimes feeling like you haven’t slept for weeks. Days would blur and before you knew it, it was mid-December, and the grounds were covered by a thick blanket of snow. You were sitting in the library under a thick sweater to keep you warm as you waited for Theodore to show up for your session. You had propped up the Standard Book of Spells, grade 5, on your pencase as you refreshed your memory on Descendo. You felt yourself lay your head in your arms on the table. Last night had been a particularly rough night where you had been sleeping so restlessly that you felt more tired after you woke up than you did the night before. You were just going to close your eyes until Theodore came.

“Bella, wake up.” A soft voice said, though it sounded as it came through cotton.

“Please, bella, it’s time for dinner.” The voice said again, slightly less muffled this time. The voice was wrong though, it couldn’t be time for dinner now, Theodore hadn’t shown up for his session yet. You felt a warm hand on your back, shaking you gently. You slowly opened your eyes and saw none other than Theodore. You were confused at first, not knowing where you were and what time it was before it dawned on you. You were in the library; Theodore was sitting beside you saying it was time for dinner. You shot up.

“I’m so sorry Theodore!” You burst out, the feelings of guilt and anxiety washed over you like a bucket of cold water. He gave you a soft smile. It was one of those smiles you rarely got to see, but it made your day better every time you did see it.

“Shhh, it’s okay, bella, you were so tired, you needed the rest.” He said lowly making you frown slightly.

“It isn’t okay, Theodore, we were supposed to work on Descendo today.” You said, panic still evident in your voice.

“Y/n!” He cut off your spiralling, “I’ve practiced, look,” he did the charm perfectly on your pencase, “I might’ve looked at your book to see what you were reading up on. Oh! And I might have looked at your notes too.” He said sheepishly. Your face turned into an impressed expression as you looked at the boy beside you.

“Wow, Theo, you did really good.” You praised him, making him grin at you.

“Thanks.” He said softly before he started to gather his things. When he noticed that you still sat there, the tiredness washing over you in another wave, he closed your book and started to gather your things as well. You looked at him with curiosity in your tired eyes.

“Come on, bella, let’s get you dinner and then to bed.” He muttered softly as he closed your bag shut and hitched it on his shoulder before reaching out an inviting hand to you.

“I’m fine Theodore, you don’t have to take care of me.” You mumbled, the guilt making a reappearance in your chest. He smiled slightly as he grabbed your arm and, rather roughly, pulled you out of your seat, making you face him. His hand slowly travelled down from your upper arm and grasped onto your wrist, engulfing the upper part of your hand in the process. His action made your heart flutter and your breath hitch in your throat. He was looking at you with puppy dog eyes, the smile still on his face. His free hand found its place on your jaw, gently stroking your cheek.

“If I don’t do it, who will, hm?” He asked softly as his thumb continued to stroke your now hot cheek. You averted your eyes from his blue ones, suddenly finding the table beside you very interesting.

“I really need to study, Theo.” You mumbled as an answer. You felt how his hand moved from your jaw to grip your chin, tilting it upwards, making you look him in the eye again. Your heart was beating so fast now you were sure he could hear it, or at least feel it.

“How about we make a deal,” he said, a small smirk on his face now, “you come to dinner with me now, and if you feel like studying after you can come back.” He shrugged before nodding his head towards the exit. His eyes were pleading with you to go with him and before you could even think it through you felt yourself nod in his grasp. A smile broke out on his face, making you give him a tired smile back. He turned, not letting your wrist go, and started towards the exit of the library. You were still feeling very tired as the two of you strolled to the great hall for dinner. Theodore pushed the great oak doors open, leading you to your now usual place, next to him and Lorenzo. The rest noticed you as you came up to the part at the table where they were sitting. Mattheo let out a low whistle.

“Damn, y/n, you look like shit,” he smirked, making Blaise snort into his goblet of pumpkin juice, “is tutoring Teddy that bad?” You rolled your eyes as you sat down in between Theodore and Lorenzo.

“At least I have a reason for looking like shit, what’s your excuse?” You countered making Blaise snort once again and Lorenzo give you a fist bump under the table. Mattheo held up his hands in surrender, an amused smirk on his face.

“Damn, she is snappy today, what happened, library run out of books for you to read?” He asked teasingly. You felt a small smile twitch on your lips, despite your exhaustion. You heard Theodore chuckle beside you as you felt his warm hand on your back in a comforting manner.

“I’m surprised you knew we had a library, Mattheo.” You said, your lips still twitching from trying not to smile. He broke out in a grin making you mirror it as you put some food on your plate, before putting some on Theodore’s. The boy thanked you quietly making you smile softly up at him.

“Yeah, I found it the other day actually.” Mattheo said, mock pride in his voice making you chuckle.

“Good job! Just you wait until you can read, it will be like a whole new world for you.” You teased him. Mattheo was anything but stupid, he was talented in most subjects, he could easily be one of the best students in the school if he put in the effort. But it was an inside joke your group had that he was stupid, mostly due to some of the stupid things he says, he had a habit of speaking before thinking, but that definitely didn’t make him stupid. The group chuckled making you smile once more as you slowly ate your dinner.

“But seriously, why do you look like you just woke up?” Blaise asked, you could see a hint of concern in his eyes making you give him an apologetic smile.

“Because she just did.” Theodore said before you could even think of replying. You turned to Theodore to send him a pointed look, but he was looking at his friends. “I found her asleep in the library.” He added.

“And you scold me for sleeping in class, this is just as bad!” Blaise pointed an accusing finger at you making you roll your eyes in a joking manner.

“Oh, shut up Blaise.” You laughed, tiredness still clear in your voice.

“Are you okay, though?” Lorenzo asked you cautiously. You gave him an apologetic smile, feeling guilty for worrying your newfound friends.

“I am, I’m just having sleep troubles, I have been for a while.” You admitted. It surprised you how easily you admitted that to them, but they made you feel safe in a weird way. You looked around at the group and you saw various looks of sympathy in their eyes.

“Guys, please don’t worry, it’s been like this for as long as I can remember.” You tried to make the problem smaller than it was, but it had the exact opposite effect. You felt Theodore’s hand come up to your back once again, rubbing it in a comforting manner.

“Maybe you need to see Madam Pomfrey?” Mattheo suggested, now serious.

“I mean it has been better now for a while; it was just last night that was bad, I don’t think I need to see her…” You trailed off. You felt Theodore’s hand move around to your waist, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll come with you if you want me to, bella.” He said softly, making you look at him. You felt warm inside from the concern he was showing you.

“I promise, I’ll go if it gets worse again.” You said after stifling a yawn. You saw how he smiled softly at you before he let his arm rest around your waist, letting you lean into him. You let your head fall to his shoulder. You looked around the group who still looked worried.

“Guys, I’ll be fine,” You said a smile on your face, “what did you guys do today?” You asked, not lifting your head from Theodores shoulder. The others were quiet for a quick moment before they started to recount their day. How they had pulled some pranks and how they accidentally intimidated a first year. You sent them a glare at this information making them apologize quickly before Lorenzo started to recount some gossip that had made its way around the school. You felt your eyelids droop as you listened to Lorenzo explain something about someone setting off a dungbomb in Filch’s office. The others, who would never admit that they enjoyed gossiping, were listening intently and they even suggested who it could be. Your mind started to focus less on the conversation and more on the warmth that Theodore was emitting. The way he was stroking your waist was comforting as you breathed in his now familiar scent. You started to just hear isolated words from the boys as you started to slip in and out from consciousness and before you knew it you were out like a light against Theodore’s shoulder.

“Is she asleep?”

“Yeah.” The voices were quiet and muffled as you felt someone grab the back of your knees, to lift you up.

“Man try something else.” You heard someone say as a frustrated sigh was heard from above you.

“Stupid riddle, stupid knocker, stupid Ravenclaw common room.” You heard someone mutter angrily from beside you, still sounding like it came through cotton.

“Finis Coronat Opus.” You heard a voice mutter and then you heard stone slide on stone.

You woke up the next morning, utterly confused but surprisingly well rested. You looked around your unfamiliar surroundings. Your eyes scanned the dark green canopy above you before tracing the same green curtains that hung around the bed you were laying in. You saw a desk with a chair against the wall next to you as well as a dark brown dresser opposite the foot of the fourposter bed that you were laying in. The bed was unbelievably comfortable, the comforter thick and warm against the cold air in the room, the pillows were fluffy. You noticed that you were alone in the bed, but you were wearing a big t-shirt and a pair of green plaid pyjama pants. You shot up in panic. These were not your clothes. Just as panic really started to set a door opened and in walked Theodore in just a towel.

“Morning, bella.” You barley heard him over his almost naked form. Your eyes shamelessly scanned his toned torso as he walked towards you with a smirk plastered on his face, using the other towel around his neck to dry of his hair.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked, a teasing hint in his voice as he sat down on the foot of the bed to look at you. You gulped as you felt the bed dip from his weight. You cleared your throat awkwardly.

“What happened?” You settled on asking first. He let out a chuckle.

“You fell asleep by the table.” He said but chose to continue to explain when he saw your confused look. “Me and Mattheo tried to get you to Ravenclaw tower, but we couldn’t solve the riddle to get in. And I didn’t want to wake you since you were so tired earlier, so we thought of the next best thing, to, uh, bring you here.” He finished as he chuckled again. You brain was trying to piece together this information.

“Did you... did you, um, change my clothes?” You gestured to the clothes you were wearing making Theodore let out an actual laugh. You tossed a pillow on his head at this.

“What’s so funny?” You asked as he continued to chuckle, the pillow now on his lap.

“You don’t remember? You’re quite the sleepwalker.” He mused, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You felt a blush creep up on your cheeks.

“Oh, no, what did I do?” You asked as you hid your face in your hands in embarrassment. You heard how he chuckled again before you felt his warm hands around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face.

“You were adamant that you couldn’t sleep in your normal clothes once I put you down on my bed, and, well, you started to take your clothes off. Don’t worry!” He said as he saw how your eyes widened in panic, “I tossed you some clothes before I turned around, I didn’t look, I promise. But I’m pretty sure you fell sometime while you were changing but when I turned back around you were out cold on the bed again, completely dressed in the pyjamas.” He finished explaining as you let out a groan in embarrassment. He was probably right though; you felt sore on your hip.

“I’m so sorry Teddy.” The nickname just slipped out as you apologised for your antics. You saw how he tensed for a moment before a smile spread on his lips, his hands squeezed your wrists reassuringly.

“Don’t worry bella, I found it quite funny,” he chuckled before looking at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “and you’re always welcome to share my bed.” He winked before standing up, walking towards his dresser. Your eyes raked over his wide shoulders and muscular back. If you said he wasn’t attractive you would be a liar. You felt the blush come back to your cheeks as he confirmed the thought that had been floating in your mind. You had shared his bed. Oh, you hoped that you didn’t do anything else embarrassing.

“You might want to get dressed, unless you want to be late.” He said as he shrugged on his pants, making the towel fall to the floor. You sprang into action, getting out of bed before getting dressed in the outfit you wore yesterday. You thanked your past self for always keeping a spare pair of underwear in your schoolbag, in case you got your period unexpectedly. As you looked at your school shirt, makeup stains on the collar, you wondered for a second if it was too much to ask to borrow one of his shirts. You turned around to face him as he tied his Slytherin tie.

“Teddy?” You said softly making his eyes snap to yours. He smiled at you as you stood there, your school skirt on along with his t-shirt. His eyes drifted to your shirt in your hands.

“Do you mind?” You asked as you gestured to the stains on the shirt.

“Here.” He said, smile still on his face as he handed you one of his school shirts. You smiled gratefully before turning around again, quickly ridding yourself of the t-shirt before slipping on the soft material of the button up shirt. It was quite big on you; you noticed as you buttoned the buttons. You tucked the fabric inside the waistband of your skirt as you surveyed yourself in his mirror by the door. Theodore was sitting on the bed, looking at you. You quickly tied your tie around the collar of the too big shirt before turning around to Theodore.

“Do I look okay?” You asked gesturing to his shirt. He smiled at you from his bed.

“You look perfect, as always, bella.” He said smoothly making you blush. He stood up from his bed, walked over to you, took your hand and led you to the other door of his room, the one he came out of when you had woken up. It was a bathroom. Damn, the Slytherins really had the superior dorms, you thought as Theodore was rummaging through his cabinet before he handed you something. A toothbrush, still in its packaging.

“Here, I thought you might want to brush your teeth.” He shrugged as he grabbed his own toothbrush.

“Thank you.” You said softly as you ripped up the packaging before letting Theodore add toothpaste on it. The scene was painfully domestic as you stood there, looking at each other in the mirror while brushing your teeth. After you were done you quickly splashed your face with water, Theodore, to your surprise, held out a small container with face cream. You smiled at him as you applied a small layer of the cream.

“I didn’t know you cared so much for your skin?” You asked as you walked through the Slytherin common room together. Your eyes wandered around the stonewalls and black leather couches. The common room had large windows that showed the bottom of the black lake. You let your eyes linger on the creatures on the other side of the window as you walked past it with Theodore by your side.

“It’s not all easy being this handsome.” He smirked making you let out a laugh. The two of you walked to breakfast together, his arm found it’s home on your shoulders as you were walking through the corridors littered with students. You noticed that people were looking at the two of you as they were whispering to their friends. Your eyes narrowed at them as you walked past groups and groups of people staring and whispering. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before you turned your head to look up at Theodore.

“Why are people staring at us?” You whispered up to him. He looked down at you, his eyebrows furrowed at your question.

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe because you’re beautiful?” He shrugged, sending you a wink before moving to hold open the large oak doors to the great hall. As you walked in the hall got quiet before everyone broke out into hushed whispers. You looked at Theodore with suspicion.

“That’s not it.” You said, narrowed eyes.

“I’m sorry bella, I have no clue.” He said with a chuckle as he held up his hands in mock surrender. You decided to let it go as you walked together towards your friends. Theodore’s hand on the low of your back.

“Morning, y/n.” Lorenzo said a broad smirk on his face as you sat down next to him, Theodore next to you.

“Morning, boys.” You said smile on your face as you reached for a piece of toast.

“So, did you sleep well?” Mattheo said before coughing, “with Theo.” He added between coughs. You narrowed your eyes at the boy you have come to look at like a brother. The others let out various chuckles at this. Theodore did tell you that Mattheo tried to help him get you back to your common room last night, so you assumed he filled in the others on what had happened.

“Yeah, did you use protection?” Blaise asked with a shrug making both you and Theodore choke on your tea and him his coffee. You looked at Theodore who was trying to hold in his laughter, deciding to turn the tide you turned to Blaise, a smirk on your face.

“At least there’s a reason to ask us that, when was the last time someone asked you that Blaise?” You asked innocently making Lorenzo and Mattheo laugh.

“Oi, y/n, that was foul.” Blaise said with a grin on his face making you laugh before you turned to Mattheo.

“I heard you couldn’t solve the riddle, what was it?” You asked, curious.

“Oh, I barely remember, like something lost in the day, blah blah, comes at night, what is it?” He said, his mouth full of food. You scrunched your nose at him.

“Do you mean They come out at night without being called and are lost in the day without being stolen.” You asked curiously as you looked between Theodore and Mattheo. They both nodded, making you shake your head at them.

“Yeah, that was the one.” Theodore confirmed as he took a bite out of his toast.

“Stars, you idiots. The answer is stars.” You said with a sigh making Lorenzo let out a chuckle.

“Well, how are we supposed to know that?” Mattheo protested making you chuckle and shake your head before sipping your tea.

“Oh, I don’t know, I suppose I expected more from someone with the last name Riddle.” You said pointedly making the others chuckle again. Mattheo sent you playful glare as he sipped his tea. The rest of breakfast went by quickly, so did the rest of the day and before you knew it you found yourself walking around the grounds with Theodore before dinner. Where the others had gone you had no idea. Theodore’s arm had found its way around your shoulders again, holding you close to his side. As you were walking outside in the thick layer of snow towards the green houses a blonde Hufflepuff boy bumped into your shoulder, making you stumble into Theodore’s side.

“Watch where you’re going.” The boy said, rather rudely, making you look at him stunned when you had regained your footing. You recognised him as Zacharias Smith. You frowned at him and just as you were about to tell him off Theodore had grabbed the collar of his cloak. He was snarling as he dragged the shorter Hufflepuff closer to his face. He had a dangerous look on his face while sending the boy an icy glare.

“Che cazzo stai facendo?” Theodore asked angrily.

“O-oi-” Zacharias protested, trying to get lose from Theodores grip.

“I asked you what the fuck you’re doing.” Theodore repeated, interrupting Zacharias protesting, dangerously slow this time. You saw how he gulped nervously. Coming out of your momentarily shock you jumped into action. Curling your fingers around Theodore’s bicep you successfully got his attention away from the Hufflepuff boy.

“Teddy,” You said, your voice soft, “please, I’m sure it was just an accident.” You looked with a pointed look at Zacharias who nodded fervently in agreement.

“Y-yeah, I’m s-sorry y/n.” He sputtered out. Theodore looked at him, the cold, dangerous stare back in his eyes as he reluctantly let go of Zacharias collar. The moment he was lose he scurried away like a frightened deer. Theodore turned back to you, his eyes now back to their puppy dog look that you’ve become familiar with. But this time you weren’t feeling the usual warmth in your stomach when you gazed into them. No, you were feeling the prickling feeling of annoyance bubble up in your stomach instead, along with something else.

“What did you do that for?” You asked, glaring at the boy with fluffy hair. A small frown made its way onto his lips.

“What do you mean, bella?” He asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

“Why did you have to go all ‘cave man’ on Zacharias? He only bumped into me for Merlin’s sake.” You let out in an exasperated tone, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Cave man? Bella, he hurt you and he was rude to you!” Theodore said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Sure, he was rud-”

“No one can treat you like that in front of me.” He interrupted you, his voice low. You felt the icy wind nip at your face as the warm feeling returned to the pit of your stomach.

“I- what? Why?” You stuttered, his admission catching you off guard.

“How can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time?” He muttered irritably as he took a step closer to you, snow crunching under his feet.

“I’m not stupid.” You scoffed, sending him another glare. He let out a laugh in frustration as he looked to the side before looking back at you. His hand grabbed your chin making you hold your eye contact.

“You are the smartest person I know, and yet you can’t see what’s in front of you.” He said, his face coming closer to yours. Your heart was beating fast as your eyes searched his blue ones. His eyes were raw with emotion as he was staring at your face.

“What?” You asked softly, still lost in his eyes. He let out a huff, eyes quickly darting to the side before they found yours again. His face was so close to yours that you could see the specs of green and grey in his blue irises. The cold air evaporated around you when his soft lips found yours. His hand that was gripping your chin moved to the nape of your neck to bring you closer, his other finding your hip, squeezing it gently. It took you a moment to realise what was happening. Theodore was kissing you. The boy you had been crushing on was kissing you. Before you could even think about reciprocate the kiss he pulled back. Worry was swirling in his beautiful eyes.

“Bella, I-” He started to apologise but your mind caught up with the situation. You interrupted his apology by kissing him, your hands grabbing onto the ends of his knitted Slytherin scarf, effectively dragging him down to your height. It felt like a breath of fresh air to be kissing him. Like you had been closed in a stuffy room for too long and he was the window that was cracked open. You felt how his soft lips stretched into a smile as he kissed you back in a gentle, slow kiss. The wind swirled snowflakes around the two of you as your arms found their way around his neck to get even closer to him. The two of you smiled as you kissed each other in the cold winter air. Only pulling apart by the loud cheering of three other Slytherins you have come to look at as your friends and brothers. You looked at your friends, laughter in your throat before you looked back to Theodore who was smiling down at you, adoration in his eyes.

“Should we get to dinner, amore?” He asked softly but made no move to go over to your friends.

“Amore?” You questioned, butterflied fluttering in your stomach. He nodded as he gently took on of your hands in his before placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Amore mio.” He said making your heart beat considerably faster. He smiled softly at you making you stand on the tip of your toes to place another kiss on his lips. Yet another loud cheer could be heard from up the hill near the castle. You couldn’t contain your smile as you kissed him, only breaking apart because the cheers became too loud. With a laugh you and Theodore joined your friends before heading to dinner. Maybe there was more to life than studying. What neither of you saw was Professor Flitwick that had witnessed the whole ordeal, a fond smile on his face.

[deansbeer]

♱ american made ⎯⎯ SOLDIER BOY.

⎯⎯ your encounter with soldier boy at the flatiron building proves he's nothing like his disappointing son, homelander.

YAP SESH! so this was meant to be posted days ago … but i got super busy 'n totally forgot about it. but it's finally up <3 love me some soldier boy every once in awhile too.

WARNING(S) smut | smoking | mild degradation ( towards homelander ) | semi-public sex | rough sex-ish | mentions of past relationships | strong language. ୨ৎ EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT | minors do NOT interact.

୨ৎ JENSEN'S LIBRARY.

୨ৎ CAI BOT — based off this FIC.

you hadn't expected to find soldier boy lounging on butcher's desk, smoke curling from his lips as he took another hit from his joint. the flatiron building was usually empty this time of night, save for butcher who you could hear talking in the other room.

"well. if it isn't america's former sweetheart," soldier boy drawled, his eyes trailing over you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "came to see the brit?"

you shifted your weight, suddenly aware of how alone you were with him. "i needed to discuss some things about homelander."

"that fucking disappointment," he scoffed, taking another drag. "you know, hughie told me about you. america's sweetheart turned rebel. gotta say, that's pretty hot."

the way he said it made heat pool in your stomach. you'd heard stories about soldier boy, about his reputation before payback turned their backs on him, but nothing prepared you for the raw magnetism he exuded. maybe it was because he reminded you of homelander — or rather, homelander reminded you of him. but there was something different about soldier boy. something more primal, more authentic.

"what else did hughie tell you?" you asked, taking a step closer.

soldier boy's lips curved into a smirk. "enough to know that you're wasted on my sorry excuse of a son." he stubbed out the joint and stood up, closing the distance between you in two long strides. "tell me, sweetheart, did he ever make you feel like a real woman?"

your breath hitched as he backed you against the desk, his hands gripping the wooden edge on either side of you. "soldier boy—"

"ben," he corrected, his breath hot against your neck. "my name's ben."

what happened next was a blur of sensations. his lips crashed against yours, tasting of marijuana and whiskey. your hands found their way to his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath his suit. he lifted you onto the desk with ease, stuff scattering to the floor.

"fuck butcher and his precious fucking desk," he growled, pushing you back until you were lying flat on the wooden surface. "been wanting to do this since i first heard about you."

your clothes seemed to disappear under his experienced hands, and soon you were bare beneath him. soldier boy took his time, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. "now this is what i call a view," he muttered, his voice rough with desire.

you could hear butcher still on the phone in the next room, his muffled british accent a reminder of where you were. but soldier boy didn't seem to care, and truthfully, neither did you.

he knew exactly how to touch you, where to kiss you, how to make you fall apart. each thrust was calculated, powerful, making you bite your lip to keep from crying out. his experience showed in every movement, every angle he hit perfectly.

"you're all mine," he growled in your ear, his pace relentless. "no other man gets to touch you, look at you, think about you. understood?"

you nodded desperately, your nails digging into his back.

"say it," he demanded, slowing his movements teasingly.

"i'm yours," you gasped, and he rewarded you by picking up his pace again.

the desk creaked beneath you, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if butcher would notice the scattered papers, the slightly askew angle of his workspace. but those thoughts disappeared as soldier boy brought you to the edge again and again.

when it was over, he helped you straighten your clothes, a possessive glint in his eyes. "you should come around more often," he said, lighting another joint. "might make these meetings with butcher more interesting."

you couldn't help but smile, even as you heard butcher's footsteps approaching. soldier boy didn't move away from you, if anything he moved closer, making it clear to anyone who walked in exactly what had happened.

from that moment on, everyone knew you belonged to soldier boy. the boys never commented on it directly, but they saw the marks he left on your neck, the way his eyes followed you whenever you were in the room, the possessive hand he kept on your lower back.

and honestly? you wouldn't have it any other way.

[gmikaelson]

Masterpiece | K.M

Masterlist

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A/N: Soooo, everyone is going to pretend I posted this yesterday...right?

My attempt at a fluffy one shot. But angsty in the beginning. Happy belated Valentine’s Day!

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Klaus has had the textbook definition of a terrible day. He came home irritated and short-tempered, exploding on anyone who spoke to him—even you

As he stormed through the courtyard, you came down the stairs, “Klauuss~” you say in a cheery tone, “your back! I was thinking we could—“ you were immediately cut off by his sharp tone and cutting words, flinching slightly

"Not now, Y/N!" His voice booms through the courtyard, making a nearby vase rattle. Dark veins begin to appear beneath his eyes as his control slips "I'm not in the mood for your cheerfulness. I've spent the entire day dealing with incompetent fools who can't follow simple instructions, and the last thing I need is-"

He stops abruptly, catching the slight flinch in your movement. Something in his expression shifts, a flash of regret crossing his features before it's quickly masked by his usual stoic facade. He runs a hand through his disheveled dirty blonde hair, taking a deliberate step back

"I apologize, love. But I need to be alone right now. Before I do something I'll regret." His accent thickens with emotion as he speaks, each word carefully measured

Without waiting for a response, he turns and storms up the stairs toward his art studio, the sound of his boots echoing against the floors.

You sigh, deciding to let him be for once.

The moon hangs high in the night sky as Klaus finally emerges from his studio, paint staining his hands and clothes. He finds you curled up on the sofa in the library, a book forgotten in your lap as you doze. The sight of you immediately softens his hardened expression

Moving silently across the room, Klaus kneels before you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. The movement causes your eyes to flutter open

"I've been a right bastard today, haven't I, love?" His voice is soft, tinged with remorse "I shouldn't have spoken to you that way."

"Mhm, you shouldn't" you mumble, turning around and facing the sofa instead

Klaus lets out a small, frustrated sigh at your dismissive response. He moves to sit on the edge of the sofa, his hand hovering over your shoulder

"Come now, my dear, don't be like that," his British accent lilts with a mixture of guilt and gentle persuasion "I know I was horrible earlier, and you have every right to be cross with me. But I'd rather not have you angry with me all night."

He leans closer, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers "I painted you today, you know. Spent hours trying to capture the exact shade of your eyes. Though I must say, even after a thousand years of practice, I still can't do them justice."

When Y/N remains stubbornly turned away, Klaus's voice takes on a more pleading tone "Y/N, love, look at me. Please?"

The 'please' comes out slightly strained - Klaus Mikaelson isn't used to begging for anything, but for you, he's willing to swallow his pride

You sigh, turning your head slightly, "what?"

Klaus's eyes soften as they meet yours, though your still clearly upset with him. He reaches out to trace his fingers along your jawline, but stops himself, knowing he hasn't earned back that right yet

"I'm sorry," he says, the words coming out with genuine remorse "I let my temper get the best of me, and you didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of it. You were merely trying to brighten my day, as you always do, and I responded like a complete arse."

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that betrays his usually confident demeanor

"I know I can be... difficult, love. But you're the last person I ever want to hurt. You're the light in all this darkness, Y/N, and I acted like a fool today."

His voice drops lower, more vulnerable "Tell me what I can do to make it right. I'll do anything"

You turn back to face him, pouting, "I was really excited for you to come home today, Klaus."

Klaus's face falls at your words, genuine guilt washing over his features. He reaches out, this time allowing his fingers to gently brush against your cheek

"I know, my love," his voice is soft, filled with regret "And I ruined it completely, didn't I? You deserve better than to be greeted with my foul mood and sharp tongue."

He shifts closer, his eyes searching yours, "Tell me what you had planned, dear. What was my beautiful girl so excited about?"

His thumb traces your pouting lower lip as you contemplate telling him, a gesture both apologetic and affectionate

"Perhaps it's not too late to salvage what's left of the day? I promise to be on my absolute best behavior," he adds with a slight smirk, though his eyes remain earnest "Though I know that's not saying much"

You smile slightly at his attempt to fix things. you open your mouth to say something but first, your eyes go to the clock in the corner before trailing back to him. Slowly, you shake your head, "nevermind it's too late now." you sit up, "It's okay. Really"

Klaus's expression darkens slightly, not with anger but with self-directed frustration. He knows you well enough to hear the disappointment beneath your words

"No, it's not okay," he says firmly, reaching out to catch your hand before you can fully pull away "And don't do that, love - don't dismiss your feelings to spare mine. I can see it in those beautiful eyes of yours that whatever you had planned meant something to you."

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles

"Tell me what I ruined, Y/N. Please? Even if it's too late now, I want to know what I missed because of my bloody temper." His blue eyes hold yours intently, filled with both regret and determination

"Fine,” you say in defeat, "since it's Valentine's Day, there was this cute little event where they give you flower pots that you get to paint, and then you get to choose a flower to plant in the pot. I just thought it was the cutest idea ever. Davina showed me the ones she and Kol made, and I was kinda hoping we could too, but...it's fine. Really. no big deal." I lean in and kiss his cheek, "I'm just glad you're feeling better now"

Klaus's face falls completely, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. The realization that he not only ruined your plans but forgot Valentine's Day entirely hits him like a physical blow

"Bloody hell," he mutters, closing his eyes briefly "Valentine's Day. Of course it is."

When he opens his eyes again, they're filled with determination. He stands suddenly, pulling you up with him

"Get your coat, love."

"Klaus, I told you it's fine—"

"It's not fine," he interrupts firmly "I refuse to let Valentine's Day end with my beautiful girl settling for 'fine.' I've been alive for over a thousand years, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that there's always a way." His signature smirk appears "Even if we have to... persuade someone to reopen the event just for us."

"Klaus..." you say softly as he cups your face in his hands

"You wanted to paint flower pots with me, my dear, and paint flower pots we shall. Even if I have to compel half of New Orleans to make it happen."

His expression softens "Besides, I rather like the idea of creating something with you. Even if it's just a simple flower pot."

You smile, "Klaus, no, you know how much I don't like you compelling people for me." You kiss the inside of his palm, "while it's too late for the event, it's not too late for us to go out and enjoy the night. Let's just go out and do something, yeah?"

Klaus's eyes light up at your suggestion, a fond smile playing on his lips as you kiss his palm. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist

"Ever the moral compass, aren't you, love?" he murmurs affectionately "Very well, no compelling tonight. Though I must say, your kindness continues to both baffle and enchant me."

"Yeah? So that's a yes?"

He brushes his lips against your forehead "Allow me fifteen minutes to make myself presentable, and then I'll take you somewhere special. Perhaps we can't paint flower pots, but I refuse to let this day end without properly celebrating it with you."

He steps back, but not before bringing your hand to his lips once more "Wear something warm, dear. And perhaps that necklace I gave you last week? The one that matches your eyes so perfectly?"

Nodding, you lean in to kiss his cheek. Klaus turns his head, meeting your lips, holding you in place as he kisses you deeply. He releases you, letting go as you turn away, flustered.

He watches you leave with a soft expression that's reserved only for you, before quickly pulling out his phone. His fingers move rapidly across the screen as he sends out several messages. If he can't give you the Valentine's Day you originally wanted, he'll make damn sure to give you something even better

Fifteen minutes later, Klaus stands in the courtyard, freshly changed into a dark henley and his signature necklaces. He's holding something behind his back as he waits for you

The sound of heels clicking against the stairs draws his attention upward, and his breath catches slightly at the sight of you. The necklace he gave you gleams against her skin, complementing your natural beauty

"Stunning as always, my love," he says, his accent thick with admiration "Though I must say, you make everything else pale in comparison."

"Thank you. Whatcha got there?"

He reveals what he's been hiding - a bouquet of deep red roses "I know it's not quite the same as planting flowers together, but I hope these might be a start to making up for my earlier behavior."

Your smile widens as you take the flowers from him, "Klaus...you didn't have to. Seriously," but your smile gives you away

Klaus's eyes crinkle with genuine pleasure at your obvious delight, despite her protests

"Oh, but I did, love," he steps closer, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear "If only to see that beautiful smile of yours. Besides," his voice takes on a playful tone "I'm Klaus Mikaelson. When have I ever done anything because I 'had to'?"

You place the bouquet on one of the chairs, making a mental note to put it in a vase when you get back.

Klaus offers his arm to you in a gentlemanly gesture "Now then, shall we? I believe I promised you a special evening, and I intend to deliver."

His eyes sparkle with mischief and something else - a softness that only you get to see "Though I must warn you, love, I may have arranged a few surprises. Nothing involving compulsion, I assure you," he adds quickly with a knowing smirk "Just a few... favors called in."

"Somehow that worries me more," you say, rolling your eyes

Klaus chuckles at your comment, leading you toward the compound's exit

"Now, now, sweetheart. Where's your sense of adventure?" he teases, pressing a kiss to your temple "Trust me, just this once?"

"Always"

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As you walk through the French Quarter, Klaus keeps you entertained with stories of past Valentines throughout history, particularly focusing on the more amusing disasters he'd witnessed. His real goal, however, is to keep you distracted from noticing the subtle movements of people entering and exiting the compound behind you

"You know," he says, guiding you toward Rousseau's "I was actually present for the very first Valentine's Day celebration. However, I must say, it was significantly less romantic than the modern version. Quite a bit more bloodshed involved, actually."

"Every day I am reminded just how old you are," but Klaus was too busy to be offended by your joke

He glances at his phone briefly, checking a message before quickly tucking it away "How about a drink first, love? I hear they've created a special cocktail just for tonight."

You shake your head, "They always seem to have a 'special cocktail, don't they?"

Klaus laughs, a genuine sound that echoes in the night air

"Touché, my dear," he guides you into the bar, his hand resting possessively on your lower back "Though I must say, watching you get tipsy is always an entertaining affair. You become even more delightfully sarcastic, if that's possible."

He pulls out a chair for you at the bar, then takes the seat beside you, keeping you close

"Besides," he leans in, his breath tickling your ear and causing you to squirm, "I rather enjoy how affectionate you become after a few drinks. The way you curl into my side, how your clever little comments become even more brazen..."

You giggle, "I thought after last time, you'd never let me drink again," you tease, bringing up the time Klaus had to carry you out of the bar.

"You're right. Perhaps we should keep it to just one drink tonight," he says with a knowing smirk "I have other plans for us, and I'd like you fully aware to appreciate them."

"Buzzkill" You grumble with a smile before Camille comes to take your drinks

"Hey, Cami!" You say cheerfully, hugging her over the bar.

Klaus tenses slightly at Cami's appearance, his hand instinctively moving to rest on your thigh - a subtle possessive gesture. Despite their friendship, old habits die hard, and Klaus's jealous nature never truly rests

"Ghayda! Klaus!" Cami greets with a knowing smile, catching Klaus's protective gesture "Happy Valentine's Day! What can I get for you two?"

Before you can order, Klaus interjects, "The special for my love here, and bourbon for me." His thumb traces small circles on your thigh as he speaks

Cami gives Klaus a subtle nod - she's clearly in on whatever he's planning - before turning to prepare your drinks

"Buzzkill, am I?" Klaus murmurs in your ear, his accent thickening "I assure you, love, there are many other ways I plan to intoxicate you tonight."

"Yes" you giggle, "buzz kill and apparently corny too." you turn your body on your stool to face him, crossing one leg over the other noting the way his eyes darken slightly. His gaze trailed over your crossed legs before meeting your teasing expression

"Corny?" he raises an eyebrow, leaning closer "I'll have you know, love, I learned from Shakespeare himself. Though," his hand slides slightly higher on your thigh "perhaps you'd prefer me to be less... poetic?"

His voice drops to a whisper that only you can hear "I could tell you exactly what I plan to do to you later instead. In explicit detail. Would that be less corny for you, my dear?"

Cami returns with your drinks, and Klaus reluctantly pulls back, checking his phone once more

"Perfect timing," he mutters under his breath before raising his glass towards you "To my beautiful girl, who somehow manages to both humble and embolden me with every passing day."

You raise your own with a smile. Sipping your drink, "You know, I didn't expect you to care about Valentine's Day. Though you'd experienced too many of them."

Klaus watches you over the rim of his glass, a thoughtful expression crossing his face

"You're right, love. I've seen countless Valentine's Days come and go," his free hand finds yours, fingers intertwining "But I've never had one worth celebrating before you."

He takes another sip of his bourbon, eyes never leaving yours. "A thousand years of existence, and yet somehow, you make everything feel new again. Even these ridiculous human traditions."

"Ridiculous? That's why you're trying too hard to make it up to me?"

His phone buzzes again, and a satisfied smirk crosses his face.

"Speaking of making it up," he stands, offering his hand "I believe it's time for us to move on to the next part of our evening. Unless," his smirk widens "you'd rather stay here and listen to more of my 'corny' declarations?"

You down your drink, "No, wait, I love this song." You take his hand and stand up, "Dance with me?"

Klaus's expression softens, though there's a flicker of impatience in his eyes as he checks the time. However, one look at your hopeful expression melts any resistance

"How could I possibly deny you anything when you look at me like that?" he pulls you close, one hand settling on your waist while the other holds yours. 

As you sway to the music, Klaus can't help but lean down to whisper into your ear, "You're making it incredibly difficult to stick to my carefully laid plans, darling. But then again," his grip tightens slightly, "you've always had a way of making me lose control of everything I thought I had perfectly arranged."

"Arranged? I thought you'd forgotten?" you tease, swaying along to the music

He spins you once, pulling your back against his chest "I did forget, initially," he admits, pressing a soft kiss to your neck "But did you really think I'd let my oversight stand? I am nothing if not resourceful, love. And the past hour has been... productive."

He spins you again, this time bringing you face-to-face with him

"Besides," his eyes gleam with mischief "I have a reputation to maintain. Can't have people thinking Klaus Mikaelson can't give his girl a proper Valentine's Day, now can we?"

His phone buzzes yet again, and this time he actually growls slightly in frustration

"What's wrong?"

"As much as I'm enjoying having you in my arms, sweetheart, we really should be going."

"See? Told you you're a buzzkill," You tease but reluctantly step back, "okay, let's go"

Klaus narrows his eyes playfully at your teasing, suddenly pulling you back flush against him

"A buzzkill, am I?" his voice drops to that dangerous, seductive tone that he knows affects you "We'll see if you still think that in about..." he checks his watch. "Twenty minutes."

He leaves an impressive tip, guiding you out of Rousseau's, his hand never leaving your waist. As you walk back toward the compound, Klaus seems increasingly antsy, checking his phone repeatedly

"Close your eyes, love," he instructs as you approach the compound's entrance

When you hesitate, he adds with a smirk, "Come now, love. Humor your 'buzzkill' of a boyfriend. I promise it'll be worth it."

"Okay, okay," you say with a smile before closing your eyes, grabbing his arm for stability, "last time someone told me to close my eyes, a snake was placed on me."

Klaus tenses at the mention of Kol's prank, a flash of anger crossing his features

"Ah yes, I remember. Kol spent the next week daggered for that little stunt," his voice carries a dangerous edge before softening as he guides you carefully "I assure you, love, no reptiles await you this time. Though perhaps I should dagger him again, just for good measure..."

He leads you through the courtyard, positioning you exactly where he wants you

"Keep those beautiful eyes closed for just a moment longer, love," his voice is soft with anticipation "And no peeking. I know how curious you get."

There's a rustle of movement around you, and the sound of several people quietly exiting

"Alright, my love," his hands rest on your shoulders from behind, his breath warm against your ear "Open them."

You gasp as you see the sight before you, "What the... Klaus" You whisper, "What's all this?" You ask, a grin slowly creeping its way onto your face as you turn to him

The courtyard has been transformed. Hundreds of twinkling lights hang from above, creating a starlit effect. Dozens of flower pots of various sizes are arranged on tables, already prepped for painting, with an array of paints and brushes laid out. In the center sits an elegant table set for two, complete with champagne and covered dishes. Rose petals are scattered everywhere, and soft music plays in the background.

Klaus's expression softens completely at your reaction, a rare genuine smile gracing his features

"This, my love," he cups your face gently "is me trying to give you both the evening you planned and the one you deserve. You wanted to paint flower pots? Well, now we have an entire collection to decorate. Though I must admit," he gestures to the romantic setting "I may have added a few touches of my own."

"Klaus," you say his name so softly, leaning into his touch

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes searching yours

"I know I ruined your original plans with my temper, but I hoped perhaps..." he trails off, showing a rare moment of uncertainty "Well, I hoped this might make up for it. Even the great Klaus Mikaelson can admit when he's been an absolute fool."

He pulls you closer, pressing his forehead against yours "Happy Valentine's Day, my beautiful girl."

"Happy Valentine's Day." You wrap your arms around his neck, "I love you, Klaus"

Klaus's breath catches slightly at your words - even after all this time, hearing you say 'I love you' affects him deeply. His arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer

"And I love you, Y/N," his voice is thick with emotion, "More than I ever thought possible. More than I probably should."

He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, one hand coming up to trace your cheek

"You know," his signature smirk returns, though his eyes remain soft "I had this whole evening perfectly planned out - dinner first, then painting, then dancing under the lights. But seeing you look at me like that..." he leans in, his lips barely brushing yours "makes me want to skip straight to dessert."

You tilt your head back, giggling, "Absolutely not." You poke a finger into his chest, "You went through quite a bit of trouble arranging all this, so perhaps we should at least attempt to follow the schedule?"

You pull his hand excitedly, "let's go!"

Klaus chuckles at your enthusiasm, allowing you to pull him along

"Eager to paint, are we?" he guides you to the table with the flower pots, pulls out a chair for you, and then sits beside you, immediately reaching for your hand

"Choose your pot, darling. Though," his eyes glint mischievously "I should mention that whatever we create tonight will be displayed prominently in the compound. I've already informed my siblings they're not allowed to mock our artistic endeavors, on pain of daggering."

He leans closer, his breath tickling your ear "And yes, before you scold me, I know that's a bit extreme. But I refuse to let anyone diminish something you put your heart into."

You roll your eyes, "Stop including yourself. You know I'm the only one here with shitty artistic abilities" You nudge his shoulder with yours before tying your hair back, "Can we eat while we paint?" you ask, eager to start.

Klaus's eyes follow the movement of your neck as you tie your hair back, momentarily distracted

"Of course, love," he recovers, reaching to uncover the dishes "Though I must disagree about your artistic abilities. Everything you do has its own charm." He smirks "Even if it's not quite up to my thousand years of experience."

He pours you each a glass of champagne, then watches as you select your pot

"Besides," he continues, selecting his own pot "I rather enjoy watching you concentrate. The way you bite your lip when you're focused, how your nose scrunches up when you're not satisfied with something..." he reaches over to tap your nose playfully "It's utterly adorable."

He picks up a brush, dipping it in paint "Now then, shall we see what masterpieces we can create while trying not to spill food on them?"

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The evening unfolds beautifully, with Klaus and You painting flower pots between bites of gourmet food and sips of champagne. Klaus can't help but steal glances at you throughout the night, enchanted by your concentrated expression and delighted giggles when the paint goes astray. Despite his initial temper earlier in the day, the night transforms into something magical

You both end up with two distinctly different pots - Klaus's displaying intricate designs and professional technique, while yours shows...heartfelt effort and creativity. True to his word, Klaus ensures both are given places of honor in the compound

You looked at Klaus's perfect pot, furrowing your brows. You tilted your head as you looked at my own pot, "Klaus. Be honest. Are my lines wonky?”

Klaus bites his lip, trying desperately to maintain a straight face as he looks at your adorably uneven creation

"Well, love..." he starts diplomatically, wrapping an arm around your waist "I would say they're not so much 'wonky' as they are...uniquely positioned. Besides," he presses a kiss to your temple "straight lines are overrated. Yours has character."

"that's a yes" you groan, running a hand down your face

Klaus can't quite contain his amused smile as you continue to scrutinize your work with such serious concentration

"Though I must say," he murmurs in your ear "watching you furrow your brows like that is making it incredibly difficult to focus on pottery critiques. Perhaps we should move on to the next part of the evening?"

His hand slides lower on your waist "Unless you'd like to continue analyzing your artistic technique, of course."

“Mmm, I'm not done. Give me your hand” I say, putting my own hand out, “palm up”

Klaus raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your request. He places his hand in yours, palm up

"Should I be concerned, love?" he asks with amusement, watching you carefully "The last time someone asked for my hand like this, they were attempting to curse me. Though," his eyes sparkle with mischief, "I doubt your intentions are quite so nefarious."

Klaus is unable to hide his fond smile at how serious she looks

"Shh, don't distract me," you say, taking a brush and painting all over his palm, “just wait”

Klaus watches with uncharacteristic patience, fighting the urge to move as the cool paint tickles his palm. His gaze remained on your face, eyes softening as he watched you concentrate, resisting the urge to curl his fingers, letting you continue her mysterious artwork 

"Should I be preparing myself for a masterpiece or another one of your... uniquely positioned designs, love?"

“You talk too much” you mumble, placing the brush down. You do the same on your own palm but with a different color.

“Okay, place your hand right here” You point to a spot on your pot

Klaus follows your instruction, pressing his painted palm against her pot where indicated, a curious smile playing on his lips

"As you command, my dear," he says softly. As he takes his hand off, you place yours, slightly overlapping his.

When both hands were pulled away, two handprints appear on the pot - one larger, one smaller, creating a surprisingly sweet design

"Ah," Klaus's expression softens completely, understanding dawning in his eyes "Now that, love, is actually rather clever."

"is it?" you ask hopefully with a smile

He looks at your combined handprints, something warm settling in his chest at the sight of your marks together

"It is. Perhaps I was too quick to judge your artistic abilities," he murmurs, pulling you closer with his clean hand "This might be my favorite piece of art in the entire compound."

“Aha!” you point a painted finger at him, “so you were judging my abilities”

Klaus's eyes widen slightly at being caught, before a mischievous grin spreads across his face

"Well, love," he catches your painted finger in his hand "In my defense, your earlier attempts at straight lines were rather..." he pauses, searching for a diplomatic word "distinctive."

Before you can protest, he pulls you closer, deliberately getting paint on you dress

"Though I must say," his voice drops to that seductive tone "watching you catch me in a lie is incredibly attractive. Perhaps I should let you win more often?"

He brings your painted finger to his lips, pressing a kiss to it "Then again, where would be the fun in that?"

As revenge, you press your hand into his shirt, fighting back a giggle.

Klaus's eyes darken playfully as he looks down at the handprint now decorating his henley

"Now that," his voice drops dangerously low "was a declaration of war, my dear."

In one swift movement, he grabs a paintbrush, a predatory gleam in his eyes

"You seem to have forgotten, love, that I'm quite skilled with a brush," he stalks toward you as you back away "And I have centuries of experience in hunting down my prey."

His smirk widens as he corners you against a pillar "Any last words before I exact my revenge?"

“Maybe that…you love me? Try remembering that. and that I love you....so much,” you say, eyes on the brush

Klaus's predatory expression falters for a moment, softening at her words before his signature smirk returns

"Oh, I do love you, my dear," he presses closer "Which is precisely why I know you'll forgive me for this..."

In one quick movement, he swipes the paintbrush across your cheek, leaving a streak of color

"Klaus!"

"There," he murmurs, admiring his handiwork "Now you truly are a work of art."

His free hand comes up to cup your other cheek "Though I must say, you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, even covered in paint."

He leans in closer, his lips barely brushing yours "Perhaps I should add a few more touches? Make you a proper masterpiece?"

“Yeah? Watch this” you whisper before turning your head and smudging your cheeks together, transferring the paint.

Klaus freezes for a split second as your cheeks press together, the cool paint smearing across his skin. A deep, rumbling laugh escapes him—a rare, unfiltered sound of pure amusement that echoes through the courtyard. His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him despite the mess

 "Cheeky little minx, aren't you?" He tilts his head, admiring the matching paint streaks now on both your faces "I should’ve known you’d find a way to weaponize affection. Quite the strategic move, love."

His thumb brushes over the paint on your cheek, smudging it further as his gaze softens "Though I must admit, you wear chaos spectacularly. It’s almost a shame to wash this off."

Before she can respond, he dashes to the paint, dipping his fingers and swirling them dramatically "But if we’re making masterpieces..." he flashes back, dragging a streak of gold down your neck, following the curve of your collarbone with deliberate slowness, earning a gasp "...let’s commit to the theme, shall we?"

"Won't things get...messy?

His laughter fades into a heated whisper as his lips hover near yours "Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll clean every brushstroke off you later... thoroughly."

The courtyard erupts into playful chaos as paint begins flying everywhere. Your laughter echoes through the compound as you chase each other, leaving colorful handprints and streaks on clothes, skin, and occasionally the walls. Klaus, despite his usual composed demeanor, finds himself completely caught up in the childish fun, his clothes, and skin now a canvas of multiple colors

The romantic dinner and careful decorations become collateral damage in the paint war, but neither seems to care. At some point, Kol appears at the balcony to investigate the commotion, only to quickly retreat when Klaus threatens him with a paint-covered brush

The evening ends with both of them...well, you, breathless from laughter, covered head to toe in various colors of paint. The courtyard looks like an abstract expressionist painting exploded, both of your flower pots forgotten amidst the beautiful disaster you've created

Klaus pulls you close, both of you a mess, and whispers against your lips "Perhaps we should continue this in the shower, love?"

“Is that you admitting defeat?"

Klaus's eyes narrow playfully, his painted fingers tightening on your waist

"Klaus Mikaelson never admits defeat, love," he growls softly against your ear "I'm merely suggesting we move this battle to a more... private venue.

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper "Unless you'd prefer to continue our war here? Though I should warn you, darling, my next tactics might not be suitable for public viewing."

You swat his shoulder, "1...2...3...race you!" you yell, running to the stairs. Absolutely futile but completely fun

"Oh, love," he calls out, letting you get a head start just to make it interesting "Racing a vampire? Particularly one as old as me? That's rather bold of you."

He vamp-speeds up the stairs, appearing in front of you with a triumphant smirk, causing her to scream

"Though I must admit," he catches you as you crash into his chest "watching you try is absolutely adorable."

He lifts her you, throwing you over his shoulder, "Klaus!" you scream, unable to stop laughing

"Now then," his eyes darken with desire as he pats your thighs, "shall we discuss the terms of your surrender? Or would you prefer another futile attempt at escape?"

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The evening winds down peacefully, with Klaus and Y/N cleaning up and changing into fresh clothes. They spend the rest of the night curled up together in their room, Klaus sketching while Y/N reads, occasionally exchanging soft kisses and quiet conversations

Their painted flower pots dry on the balcony, including their special handprint creation which Klaus insists will have a permanent place in their room. Despite the chaos and the mess, the Valentine's Day that started roughly ends perfectly - just the two of them, content in each other's company

As Y/N drifts off to sleep in his arms, Klaus watches her with tender affection, thinking about how a thousand years of existence led him to this moment, with this remarkable woman who changed everything for him

The courtyard’s chaos remains untouched come morning. Rebekah scoffs at the mess, Kol places bets on how long until they’re at each other’s throats again, and Elijah quietly orders a cleaning crew. But in your room, Klaus sleeps—actually sleeps—your hand fisted in his still-damp curls. Victory, he’d learn, tastes sweeter in surrender.

The compound may be a mess of paint, but Klaus wouldn't change a single moment of their evening together.

𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚⊹♡ : ̗̀ 𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚⊹♡ : ̗̀ 𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚⊹♡ : ̗̀ 𐙚

Taglist: @ariesandwolves

[callumturnercrush]

Craving Callum

18+

Summary- You wander Callum’s house to find him reading comfortably in his office library, where you close his book and make him enjoy you instead.

lap sitting, pet names, soft dom x brat, beg for it, size kink, pinv, cream pie, aftercare

The heavy door of Callum’s office creaks as you push it open, the scent of aged leather and polished wood overtaking your senses. His office is a sanctuary of books, their spines lining the walls, showcasing his deep love of reading.

Callum sits in a low-backed chair at his desk, bathed in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. His soft curly raven hair catches the light as he pores over a worn novel, his long fingers tracing the page. He’s resting one elbow on his desk, leaned back parallel to it, his legs spread wide in a relaxed, effortless pose.

He’s stunningly handsome in a way that makes even a quiet moment like this mesmerizing and you linger in the doorway, watching him. You’re captivated by the way his broad shoulders fill out his crisp white shirt, the way his thighs…God, those thighs, strain against the fabric of his tailored trousers.

You’ve always loved how solid he feels, how his large presence makes you feel so small, and as if hearing your thoughts he glances up, his blue eyes catching yours, a slow, knowing smile on his lips. “What is it, love,” he says, his British accent teasing and warm.

You grin, crossing the room with a playful sway. “I hate it when you lock yourself away reading in here,” you protest, nudging his book aside. He looks up at you, one brow arching, a slow smirk tugging at his lips as you step between his legs and climb onto his lap.

His thighs are firm and expansive, a perfect seat that makes you feel small and safe, and as you settle down, you rest your hands on his broad chest.

Callum chuckles, the sound low and rich. “You’ve got my full attention now,” he says, his voice playful, as his gaze locks on yours.

His large hands find your hips, and he gives you a playful bounce, jostling you just enough to make you pleasurably sigh.

“So needy for me,” he teases, his voice all mischief, but the glint in his eyes says he’s enjoying this as much as you are.

Another bounce, and this time it hits you differently, a flutter in your stomach, a spark that travels lower. “Callum,” you breathe, already at your limit with his teasing.

Your hips shift, instinctively grinding against him and his eyes lock on where your bodies meet, filled with unspoken desire. You push against him, seeking more and his hands tighten on your hips.

“Go on then, love. Show me what you’re after,” he rasps, his pupils dilating with a hunger that matches your own, his words a dare you eagerly take, leaning in until your lips are inches from his.

He doesn’t wait as his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you in, his grip firm as his lips meet yours, kissing with a need that’s all heat and promise.

You crave him, your body pressed tight against his as he deepens the kiss, his other hand guiding your hips to rut against him. The friction is exhilarating, building a pressure that makes you whimper into his mouth.

“Callum, please,” you gasp, breaking the kiss, your voice trembling with need feeling him harden beneath you, the ridge of his erection making your core throb.

“Up, love,” he says, tone laced with authority and he rises, moving with a fluid grace that defies his towering size. His hands find your arms, guiding you to your feet before turning you to face his desk.

With a firm push, he bends you over the polished surface, your cheek resting against the cool wood as your heart races. You hear the faint clink of his belt, and the rasp of his zipper as your knees go weak.

He tugs your panties down, the air kissing your bare skin, and you squirm, insatiable and frantic as he chuckles darkly.

“Proper eager, aren’t you?” he chides, his hand smoothing over your backside, then -smack -a sharp spank lands, the sting blooming into heat.

You moan, back arching, and he soothes the spot with a gentle rub. “Use your manners, tell me what you want,” he says, voice thick with desire.

“Please, Callum, I want you,” you beg, your voice raw, your body aching for him.

“You beg so beautifully,” he praises, and you feel the hot tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, teasing but not yet giving in.

You wiggle, insatiable, your breaths frantic, and he groans. “Alright, kitten,” he says, low and rough. “I’ll give it to you.” He pushes forward, slow at first, the slick sound of him filling you echoing in the quiet room.

You moan his name, your body straining to take him deeper, and he presses in until you yelp, feeling him hit a spot that makes your vision blur.

“Stuffed …full , aren’t you, kitten?” he groans , pulling back several inches, his hands steadying your hips. “Let’s see how much more you can take,” he says, and then he’s pushing in again, creating a steady rhythm that has you moaning hard, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk.

Each thrust divides you, building a pressure that coils tighter with every stroke. You’re gasping, panting, lost in the feel of him, his heavy cock thrusting deep, each plunge causing a slick, squelching sound that blends with the clap of his thick thighs against the backs of yours.

“Callum, it’s so good,” you praise , your voice breaking as you teeter on the edge, pushing back to meet his thrusts.

“Almost there, love,” he says, his voice strained, his grip tightening. He drives into you, relentless now, and the world narrows to the slick glide of his cock, the heat of his hands, the way he fucks you into oblivion.

Your desperate moans grow louder and whinier, and he knows you’re close. One hand fists your hair, guiding your head back with a firm pull that sparks a thrill through you. His other hand slides around your hip, fingers pressing your clit, circling with quick, steady strokes.

The combination of his fierce thrusts, as he holds you in place and teases your clit, pushes you to the limit, your body arching against him.

“Come on, kitten, give it to me,” he urges, his voice rough with need, and you come hard, crying out as the tension snaps, your orgasm crashing through you, your walls clenching tight around his cock as you writhe under the weight of release.

He follows, his thrusts jagged, lifting you on your toes. “Fuck, take it all,” he groans, deep and guttural, pushing himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he floods you with his come.

Your moans are high and shaky, your body limp as his hips clap against your ass, his groans of satisfaction filling the air.

He squeezes your clit with thumb and forefinger, drawing out your climax, your walls pulsing, milking the last of his come as he finishes.

His grip on your hair loosens, his large hands rolling down your back, warm and steady, as he slowly slides out of you, leaving you feeling achingly empty.

He laughs softly, now breathless with euphoria. “My needy little thing, are you satisfied now?” he pants, still catching his breath, the high of release surging through him.

He gently pulls you to face him, lifting you with care to set you on the edge of the desk. His large hands rest on your hips, warm and steady, as he stands between your legs, his blue eyes soft but searching.

You melt into him, spreading your legs wider, addicted to the feel of him, his solid warmth driving you wild as you kiss him, your lips brushing his with a desperate reply, “I’m satisfied..for now” you whisper, your words sparking a glint of mischief in his blue eyes, and he kisses you back, deeper, a playful smile on his lips as he presses himself closer.

📚 END

[societyfolklore]

Loki’s Eggcellent Equinox Endeavour

Title: Loki’s Eggcellent Equinox Endeavour

Summary: Following his disastrously misunderstood Christmas gift-giving attempt, Loki turns his attention to Midgard's next major holiday: Easter. But after a deep dive into both modern customs and ancient pagan fertility rites, he becomes determined to outdo himself in a chaotic blend of Ostara rituals and misguided goodwill. The Avengers are not prepared.

Word Count:  1.5k

Warnings:  Silliness! Fluff nonsense- humour… (Well not funny funny.. just..this is a silly post)   No beta read, and not supper thought out either… just.. yeah..

A/N: This is following up on my Gift Giving Guide post at Christmas… Which in itself was not an original idea but inspired by a post made @mycroftrh. I’ve been sick all week and this is what came out of my slightly congested fever addled brain…

Avengers Tower – Somewhere Deep in the Library, Days Before Easter

Loki furrowed his brow, flipping through yet another ancient tome he had ‘borrowed’ from the British Museum’s closed archives. He was surrounded by glowing floating orbs of light, piles of texts, several scrolls, a terrarium of mossy rune stones, incense curling like smoke from a levitating censer, and a half-eaten chocolate bunny he'd taken apart with a ritual dagger for ‘examination.’  The air smelled faintly of lilac, steel, and mischief.

“Easter,” he muttered under his breath, “a rabbit deity of springtime... eggs imbued with life essence... pastel-coloured sacrifices... how quaint.” He rolled his eyes skyward as though appealing to higher intellects for mercy. “And humans revere this ritual with sugar and synthetic grass?”

He tapped his fingers against his chin, golden rings glinting in the light. In a swirl of green magic, he conjured a minor vision spell, images forming and hovering midair- cloaked druids welcoming dawn with chant and fire; baskets brimming with woven spells; children chasing eggs across flowering meadows. One image showed a Midgardian shopping mall with a man in a bunny suit posing for photos. Loki physically recoiled.

“This cannot be what remains of divine celebration.”

He muttered again in Old Norse, his voice echoing with power. The visions shifted to show ancient rites- women weaving wildflower crowns, couples dancing around towering poles of woven ivy, moonlit fertility feasts, and hares darting through sacred glades.

“But it’s not Easter, is it?” he murmured, voice turning thoughtful. He picked up a thick, leather-bound grimoire on Seasonal Rites and Fertility Cults of the Northern Tribes. The cover smelled of damp earth and old magic. “It’s Ostara. The spring equinox. The sacred celebration of Eostre- goddess of renewal, fertility, and woodland passions. The hare, her sacred beast. The egg, a vessel of returning life. Mortals remember so little of the truth.”

His smirk curved, slow and satisfied. He flipped through the pages, pausing on a diagram of a ritual involving gilded eggs and moonstone-infused offerings.

“Yes. Now that makes sense. At least someone on this backwards realm maintained a sliver of cultural dignity. Perhaps even a spark of instinct. A shame it’s buried beneath synthetic sugar shells and plastic grass.”

He stood, trailing one hand along the spines of the books, eyes gleaming with purpose and delight. As he passed a floating orb, it morphed into a map of Avengers Tower, glowing softly. “They want eggs? I shall give them eggs. They want rabbits? I shall give them a herald of the goddess herself. They want rebirth?”

He gave a low, dangerous chuckle, already summoning the first strands of enchantment with a flick of his fingers. A rabbit the size of a cat blinked into existence on the windowsill, its ears perked attentively.

“Let them be reborn... in delirious, chaotic wonder.”

Avengers Tower – Easter Morning

The screaming started just before dawn.

“WHY IS THERE A GIANT RABBIT IN THE GYM?!” Tony’s voice tore through the intercom system, the sound of something crashing and skittering echoing behind him.

“Correction,” Bruce called back calmly from another floor. “There are now thirty-two. And rising. But they are shrinking in size though..”

It had begun as a trickle. One or two glowing, eerily calm hares appearing in strange places. Then it escalated. Rapidly.

By the time the sun rose, the Tower was under siege by rabbits.

They were everywhere. In closets. In the vents. Sitting perfectly still on countertops, judging silently with unblinking eyes and faintly glowing fur. One particularly bold bunny had claimed Tony’s suit-up platform and refused to yield, even when threatened with an arc reactor blast.

Everywhere they went, they left gifts behind: small, shiny chocolate eggs scattered like arcane breadcrumbs. But these were not ordinary sweets. Each was infused with a unique spell- Loki’s own blend of mischief, meaning, and just a dash of spite. Some sang lullabies in foreign tongues. Some whispered secrets from other timelines. Some made whoever ate them speak in rhyming couplets for an hour. One made Steve temporarily see time sideways. Another turned Sam’s wings bright neon pink until he crash-landed into the kitchen.

Clint opened a cabinet and was greeted by four rabbits in tiny, rune-etched bonnets who immediately began chanting in a dead language. He closed the cabinet and walked away.

Natasha found an egg in her boot. It warmed against her skin, thrummed like a heartbeat, and then- when she threw it out the window- exploded into a cloud of lavender mist that lingered ominously for hours.

Clint then ended up following a trail of glittering eggs to a linen closet, stepped into what turned out to be a spatial loop. He entered six times before realizing he was stuck in a teleportation snare created by a particularly malevolent peppermint truffle. When he finally emerged, his watch was ticking backwards.

Bucky picked up an egg and sniffed it. “This better not be like the mead incident,” he muttered. The egg burst into sparks, and his hair turned a soft, shimmery teal. No one commented. They valued their lives.

By mid-morning, Sam was shouting from the ceiling rafters. “I JUST WANTED CEREAL!” he howled as two hares launched themselves from a cupboard like tiny, fuzzy missiles. “I WILL NEVER MOCK PAGAN RITUALS AGAIN!”

Tony tried to take control by ordering JARVIS to purge all foreign magical signatures. The system crashed within five seconds.

Even Vision, attempting to understand the rabbits, was last seen seated in the common room with a clipboard, three eggs in his lap, and a half-formed theory about “chaotic fertility deities and emotional transference.”

In the kitchen, a rabbit sat solemnly on top of the fridge, its paws crossed like a tiny monk. Whenever anyone approached, it hissed like a boiling kettle.

By the time noon arrived, the Tower had become a pastel warzone: a strange purgatory of chocolate, spells, and judgmental lagomorphs. And still, more rabbits came.

Thor found Loki in the greenhouse, perched serenely among over a dozen lounging rabbits, sipping herbal tea like a smug woodland prince. Ivy curled lazily up the trellises behind him, and faint choral humming emanated from an egg-shaped lantern nearby. A hare wearing a tiny crown of daisies hopped into Loki’s lap, and he scratched it behind the ears like a king dispensing favour to a loyal courtier.

“Brother,” Thor began, tone already exhausted as he stepped through a cluster of sun-dappled foliage. “You’ve unleashed a plague of enchanted rodents upon our home.”

“They are sacred messengers,” Loki replied smoothly, stroking the rabbit with fur like starlight. “Each one carries a blessing. Or a mild hex. The line between the two is rather artistic.”

“One of them hexed the elevator,” Thor deadpanned. “It now only moves when spoken to in limericks.”

“An improvement,” Loki mused. “Encourages poetic expression. I’ve long said Stark lacked verse.”

“You also hid three dozen spell-laced chocolates in the ventilation system,” Thor continued, stepping over yet another lounging rabbit, which blinked up at him with golden eyes.

“I may have over-committed to the symbolism,” Loki admitted, not remotely remorseful. “But the symbolism, brother! Ostara’s essence flows through all things: air, fur, cocoa. Would you have me squander the opportunity for divine resonance?”

“Someone’s coat rack came to life and is currently waging war against the Roomba,” Thor said flatly.

“Ah. The one in the north hallway?” Loki asked brightly. “That was one of my better enchantments.”

Thor gestured broadly, looking like he’d aged a decade in a single day. “You call this restraint?”

Loki only smiled, radiant with misplaced pride. “Come now, brother. This is subtle by Asgardian standards. Why, I’ve not even summoned a fertility fog. I think I’ve grown.”

By late afternoon, the team had rounded up most of the rabbits- though a few remained unaccounted for and were assumed to have formed a colony in the sub-basement, possibly developing a primitive society. Bruce had started tracking their movement patterns on a whiteboard and labelled the warren 'Bunholm'. No one asked him to.

Tony created a ‘Magically Problematic’ shelf in the lab for the leftover eggs, complete with biometric locks and a laminated warning sign that simply read: Don’t Touch the Chocolate. One egg had already turned his lab coat into a sentient garment that flinched whenever Steve got too close.

Steve, still speaking in Elizabethan verse thanks to a particularly stubborn caramel core hex, stood before the team in the common room and launched into an impassioned monologue about valor, rabbits, and the strength of camaraderie. The others applauded out of both pity and fear he might try it again.

Natasha was last seen slipping one of the eggs into a lead-lined safe with no label.

Even Clint, who had spent the morning arguing with a particularly aggressive hare in the laundry room, muttered something about 'kinda festive' before disappearing into the vents again.

Loki, watching the chaos unfold from a high balcony with a glass of mead and a smug tilt to his mouth, let out a contented sigh. He was draped in ivy and basking in the golden light of dusk like some triumphant fae monarch surveying his pastel kingdom.

This time, he thought, they almost appreciated it. There had been no screaming threats of exile, no immediate portal banishments, not even a direct punch to the face.

...Almost.

A/N:.... This is so ridiculous... I am sorry

[eleanorandphantom]

OC Loop Introduction: Part 1

^This is our house! It is based off of the Highwic in Auckland, New Zealand

I’ll be introducing the grounds of the loop in this post, so a lot of photos and some historical information! Next part will be the peculiar who live there

(Please keep in mind that this is one of my DR’s, it is very personal and the peculiars who live there are real people from my CR, so I will be using fake names for them for privacy purposes. Also this is very information based, all of this is basically my script lol)

(‼️All photos are from Pinterest or from the web, I do not own any of these photos and some are not historically accurate as their purpose is for inspiration‼️)

anyways onto the intro!!

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Loop date: April 10, 1968

Location: Auckland, New Zealand

Hidden in a forest near Lake Wakatipu

The Highwic mansion was built by a wealthy European settler family in the late 1800s, abandoned after a tragedy, and later repurposed as the Ymbrynes’ home

the mansion is surrounded by thick forests

Grounds:

Surrounded with lush gardens, a thickly settled forests, and geothermal hot springs

Underground caverns and tunnel systems beneath the mansion for hiding from Hollowgast

Rooms:

23 bedrooms total, 3 spare bedrooms for passing peculiar or new additions to the group

25 bathrooms, one to each bedroom, one in the kitchen and one in the basement

There are 3 main common rooms

There is one large kitchen

There is an inside greenhouse

Basement:

secret exit that opens into the forest for quick escapes.

hidden storage room for supplies and weaponry

Training services such as 1960’s based exercise equipment

Lookout Tower

The lookout tower, accessible via a spiral staircase, offers a panoramic view of the surrounding forest and Lake Wakatipu. It doubles as a quiet retreat or a signal station for emergencies

Large library

Large attic

A literal ballroom (yes I’m extra)

Here are some photos of the inside of the mansion as inspiration:

Here are more bedrooms and parts of the mansion:

It’s very extravagant, the way our head Ymbryne enjoys it

Our loop was created by two ymbrynes, Miss Raven and Miss Silvereye, as an escape for runaway peculiars

They chose this location due to the thick forests being able to hide them and let them live as themselves

history time ‼️‼️‼️

Life in 1960s New Zealand:

In the 1960s, New Zealand was a nation at a crossroads, straddling its colonial past and an emerging modern identity. It remained a peaceful, agrarian society with strong ties to Britain, but the decade saw the seeds of social, cultural, and political change begin to sprout. Life revolved around close-knit communities, outdoor activities, and a slower pace of living, with the country's lush landscapes offering both tranquility and isolation.

Cultural Landscape The 1960s were marked by the continuation of British customs, but this was also a time when New Zealand started forging its unique identity. Rugby reigned supreme as the national pastime, and the All Blacks were cultural heroes. Cinema and radio brought global trends to small towns, while the country embraced rock 'n' roll and the counterculture movement spreading from the United States and Britain.

However, New Zealand was not immune to the social upheavals of the era. The Maori population, historically marginalized, began to push for greater recognition and rights, leading to early discussions about the Treaty of Waitangi and land reform. Environmentalism was also on the rise, with growing concern for the preservation of the nation’s unparalleled natural beauty.

Technological Life Daily life was simpler, with rotary phones, black-and-white televisions, and radios being staples in most households. Cars were becoming more common, but in rural areas, horseback riding or walking was still a way of life. Electricity was widespread, but indoor plumbing was still a luxury in some isolated areas.

Peculiar History in New Zealand Hidden beneath the idyllic surface, peculiar life in 1960s New Zealand was thriving in secrecy. The peculiar world, wary of the rising tensions of the Cold War and environmental degradation, found New Zealand’s isolation to be a refuge. Ymbrynes had long identified the country as a safe haven, establishing loops in remote forests, islands, and mountainous regions like the Southern Alps.

The peculiar history of New Zealand was intrinsically tied to its Maori heritage. Some Maori legends spoke of peculiar abilities—heroes who could command the wind, transform into birds, or commune with the spirits of their ancestors. These stories often intertwined with tales of the taniwha (mythical water guardians) and other supernatural creatures, giving peculiar children a place in the folklore of the land.

The 1968 Peculiar Community

The peculiar community faced unique challenges during this time. The Cold War paranoia extended to normals in New Zealand, and any unusual sightings of peculiar abilities risked being mistaken for Soviet espionage or experimental technology. There were wights posing as soldiers, picking through children to find peculiars, making it difficult to trust a lot of people outside of the loop.

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Here are some geographically based photos:

(I had to put all the forest-based photos into one photo as tumblr was being mean and I couldn’t upload them individually)

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anyways! That’s all for today :D

I’ll be posting about the peculiars who live here probably tomorrow or Tuesday

See ya!

[portrait-paintings]

Frances (Woodis) Borlase, Later Frances Grenfell, and Pascoe George Norman Grenfell

Artist: Martin Archer Shee (British, 1769-1850)

Date: c. 1804

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: The Huntington Library, Art Museum, and Botanical Gardens, San Marino, CA, United States

Label Text

Frances Borlase is presented in an alluring manner that seems to belie her role as a mother. Gazing out from beneath the shadows of her curling hair and enveloping scarf, she establishes an intimate rapport with the viewer. In painting his sitter’s lips parted slightly to reveal a subtle flash of white teeth, the artist makes a striking break with established portrait conventions. The relaxation of propriety may relate to the unusual circumstances of this commission. Shee’s patron was most likely William Grenfell, the father of three of Frances Borlase’s children, but not yet her husband. Shee focuses on Grenfell’s future wife’s beauty instead of her unconventional family arrangements.

Biography

[suckeddry]

Late night at library

TW: NONE

Cuthbert Beckett x GN! reader

You were staying late at the library again. Desperately trying to remember as much as possible for tomorrow´s test. You looked around the quiet study room, enjoying the dimly lit room with the heavy air smelling of old books. Even when you were stressed, you could always appreciate the peacefulness of the library. Just you, the books and nothing else.

The moment you finished that thought a loud crash ruined the peace. You looked around, searching for the source of the sudden noise. At first there was nothing to be seen, just a dimly lit study room but when your eyes searched the whole room, they stopped at a man that just scrambled through the window. It was not graceful per se. He did seem that he had experience doing that but not elegantly. “You know the front doors are open, correct?” You decided to speak up. The man in the window froze, slowly looked at you and flashed you a suave smile. “Are they now? Should have checked that.” He says in a resonant voice with a slight British accent. Now that he stands up in the library, his leather coat lazily falling down beneath his knee, he takes a better look at you. “Now..is that a Nietzsche you're reading?” He slowly looks you up and down. “Interesting.” He mumbled to him and you weren't sure if he was amazed or silently judging you.

The strange man looked around as if trying to find something. As you tried to follow his gaze that was hidden behind a tinted sunglasses, both of your eyes fell down at an old photocopy in the opposite corner in the study. The stranger sauntered towards it as if to look casual in front of you. He leans down, putting an old-looking piece of paper inside a photocopy. But then he proceeds to just stare at it as he laid down his fingers with very sharp looking nails on the machine, gently tapping it. It seemed almost like he wasn't sure how to use it.

After at least five minutes of him staring at the photocopy and you staring at him, the little voice inside your head decided to speak up. “Need some help?” The moment you finish the sentence, he looks at you with the same suave smile as before. “Well now that you are willing.” He gestured to the photocopy. Maybe it was curiosity or pity that made you stand up and go meet him at the photocopy. You looked at him, now finally close enough to look at all the small details of his face, his eyes immediately caught your attention. They had such unnatural gleam and his pupils were strangely shaped. His voice was the thing that brought you from the trance. “The photocopy, dear.” He gave you a smile and you could swear his teeth were a lot sharper than those you had in your mouth. You nodded, pressing a button to copy the paper. When it was finished, he took both of the papers in hands and glued one of them in a diary he pulled from his coat. “You have my thanks.” He smiled at you once again and turned around to leave, when you stopped him. “What's your name?” You quickly blurted out. He turned around to face again and made almost a dramatical bow. “The name is Beckett.” And with that simple sentence he disappeared.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Wandering in the Desert of Religion, Yorkshire, c 1450. Emblematic drawing of a man in a tree (man's life) pursued by a unicorn (death), taking honey (worldly vanities), while a white mouse (day) and a black mouse (night) gnaw at the trunk. Four serpents beneath represent the four elements, and a dragon’s open mouth awaits victims. British Library, London, MS Additional 37049, f. 19v :: [Robert Scott Horton]

* * * *

“A prisoner paints a landscape on the wall of his cell showing a miniature train entering a tunnel. When his jailers come to get him, he asks them politely to 'wait a moment, to allow me to verify something in the little train in my picture. As usual, they started to laugh, because they considered me to be weak-minded...

I made myself very tiny, entered into my picture and climbed into the little train, which started moving, then disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel. For a few seconds longer, a bit of flaky smoke could be seen coming out of the round hole. Then this smoke blew away, and with it the picture, and with the picture, my person ...'

How many times poet-painters, in their prisons, have broken through walls, by way of a tunnel! How many times, as they painted their dreams, they have escaped through a crack in the wall! And to get out of prison all means are good ones. If need be, mere absurdity can be a source of freedom.”

― Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hi, my name is Robinson and if you can, could you do me a platonic DC matchup?

Looks: 5'2, strawberry blonde, green eyes.

Gender/pronouns: FTM, he/him.

Interests: I love acting, and I'm performing at the west end next year. I love making chaotic stories on the Sims. I love all and any mythologies, whether it's Norse or Japanese. I just love it. I love books so much, I had to get shelves because my bookshelf is full. I also need to get more shelves for the shelves I got for my bookshelf. I LOVE felines. I used to only go to the zoo as a kid for the felines.

Random things: I'm British born and raised. Top of my English class, and I got autism.

Hi! It's nice to meet you, Robinson!

I would love to do a platonic DC matchup for you!

:)

Sorry, if it's a bit jumbled, I had a lot of ideas!

So, I hope you like your matchups!

Enjoy!

Platonic Matchup; DC

~~~

Platonic;

~~~

DC;

Wally West -

When you join the Justice League, you’re nervous.

You’ve been around some of the best in the world, but this is a whole new level of intensity.

Enter Wally West, the excitable, energetic speedster, who’s always popping in and out of rooms like he’s got somewhere to be (he does).

Wally notices you right away, and while you’re getting acclimated to the team, he can’t help but want to befriend you.

He loves that you're from Europe.

In the beginning, he will ask all about it.

One day, you’re practicing some simulations with the team.

Wally is literally running in circles around you as you concentrate, teasing you, trying to get you to break concentration with his jokes and humor.

You eventually say something witty, that makes him stop.

He’s hooked instantly.

Despite his playful antics, you appreciate that he respects your boundaries when you’re in the zone, and you find his energy infectious.

It’s impossible not to be drawn to him.

The friendship starts as a fun back-and-forth of pranks and jokes, but there’s a deep bond that builds beneath the surface.

Wally’s incredibly attentive to your interests - especially when it comes to mythologies.

He knows you’re into them, so sometimes he’ll run to the library in the Tower to find obscure books on Norse and Japanese myths, trying to find new stories to impress you.

He’d probably drag you to one of the simulation rooms, and as he speeds around; he’s especially fond of creating wild superhero versions of the gods and tricksters you like (Thor as a speedster? Yes, please).

The two of you share a love for storytelling, and you both spend a lot of time creating chaotic scenarios in The Sims.

Wally probably challenges you to build the most outlandish superhero families, and you’ll joke that his Sims are definitely going to be the next reality TV show.

Your talks often go late into the night, and you find yourself laughing harder with Wally than you have in ages.

He has this ability to make even the most stressful of days seem lighter.

There’s a subtle shift in your friendship when Wally starts picking up on the way you react to his little gestures.

His jokes don’t just make you laugh; they brighten up your day.

His jokes aren’t just jokes anymore - they’re a way to get closer to you.

There’s this soft, protective instinct that creeps up when he sees you feeling overwhelmed or stressed.

One day, while you’re reading a book on mythology, Wally casually speeds in, sitting down next to you without warning.

He asks about the book, and before you can even respond, he’s already throwing out some crazy new theory of his.

"Oh, is this one about Greek Mythology? Hades?"

You can’t help but laugh.

He quietly watches you as you share your thoughts on a particular myth, enjoying the way you get passionate about it.

You’ve been through a lot as a team, and one day, as you’re both having a casual hangout in the Tower, he does something completely uncharacteristic.

He notices that you’ve been slightly down lately, and when you mention that you’ve been feeling a bit homesick for the UK, he stops whatever he’s doing.

Without thinking, he zooms to the kitchen, makes you a cup of tea the way you’ve mentioned you like it, and brings it back to you.

And if you are overstimulated, he'd make sure you are alright.

He'd find you a weighted blanket, your favorite snacks, and your favorite movie or show.

If you want quiet time, he'll take you to a nice quiet, and dim, room for you to chill in until you feel better.

There’s a moment of silence between you two as Wally sits across from you, a small smile on his face. “I guess I’m just used to making people smile. But… With you, I really want to make sure you’re okay.”

You both just sit there for a while, feeling the unspoken understanding between you.

Yep, now you are both best friends.

Wally continues to be your rock.

He’s constantly cracking jokes, but you also know he’s someone you can talk to about your deepest fears or dreams.

When you’re working late on a project or simply reading a book, Wally is always there to pop in with some energy and excitement, reminding you not to take life too seriously.

On missions, he’s always the first to check on you, even if it means running at the speed of light just to make sure you’re okay.

His concern is evident, but it never feels overbearing.

He always makes sure you know he’s there if you need him - whether that means a quick chat or a distraction with one of his crazy stories.

Sometimes, the two of you will take walks in the middle of the night on the Tower’s balcony.

He’d tell you random facts about speedsters, or about how fast he could run around the Earth if he really wanted to.

And even though he’s always joking, you can tell that in these quiet moments, he’s letting his guard down and just enjoying your company.

He would speed you over to the UK if you asked.

You both find joy in small, everyday moments together.

For example, when you both have a free afternoon, you’ll spend time baking some cookies in the Tower’s kitchen (even though you both know it’ll be a disaster).

Wally’s hyperactive energy can’t help but spill over into the kitchen, and flour ends up everywhere.

By the time you’re done, you’re both covered in the mess, laughing until your stomachs hurt.

He’d often ask you about how your day went and sit with you while you read, genuinely listening to your thoughts.

Sometimes, he’ll even suggest the two of you get into a game of video games.

Wally is the type to give you little notes when you’re feeling down, just simple, random notes that say things like “You’re doing amazing, don’t forget it!” or “If you need a friend to nerd out about Greek mythology, I’m your guy.”

Wally always makes sure you feel heard, whether that’s listening to you rant about a tough day or helping you organize your bookshelves.

(If he’s being honest, he loves the idea of helping you with the bookshelves because he knows it’ll give him an excuse to look at your collection of mythology books).

If you ever need space to think or work, he’s the first to give you that time and check in later to make sure you’re doing okay.

He knows how important your hobbies are to you, and he respects your boundaries.

You help ground Wally when his mind races too fast.

When he gets overwhelmed by all the chaos around him, you’ll pull him aside, talk about something that calms his nerves (maybe even share a bit of mythology trivia), and help him focus on the present.

You’re the kind of person who supports him during the rougher missions, keeping him in check when his overenthusiasm leads him into risky situations.

Your steadiness and thoughtfulness remind him that there’s more to life than just running at the speed of light.

[kay-jay-self-shipping]

Illness CanonxOC Imagines

Okay, so I have a terrible earache right now, and am completely deaf in one ear as a result, so I'm going to make some self-indulgent content, that you guys can enjoy too!

How would my fave canon characters react if their love interest was ill. (My OCs are mentioned, but I can make a version without if people want it.)

Orochimaru

Kaede is rarely ill, due to her strong constitution and stubborn disposition, but it's not impossible. If she is ever outwardly ill, it's quite severe and Orochimaru knows that. Usually, he'd find her as she collapses from a fever, and immediately takes her to the lab so Kabuto can assist him.

Usually, Kaede will wake up with an IV drip in her arm and Orochimaru overlooking her. If she's in her room, she'll joke it off and be teased by the Sannin as he suggests she's getting on in the years. However, if she wakes up in the lab, Orochimaru will be forced to restrain her to stop her from yanking out the IV to escape her fears of experimentation.

Either way, he's not leaving until she's better, and while neither side shows their concern or appreciation, the air feels just a little lighter as they remain in the silence of their shared company.

Lotor

Ziera can get sick, but her illnesses are different from ours. If she is under intense stress or recently came down with the Tylyrion version of the Flu, she can have an ailment known as 'fleshballs.' Think of hairballs for cats but with a lot less hair. Of course, they're not flesh either, but the mucous is so tightly packed that it looks like flesh from a distance.

Imagine Lotor's horror when she first had fleshballs during her time as Renzo. Of course, his first order of business was to send the... object, to the lab for testing to ensure she wasn't in any danger, then he went about ensuring her airways were clear and got her some water.

Once he was certain she wasn't in danger of death or injury, he would attend to her whenever she started choking, or send someone in his place when his duties grew too urgent to ignore. Usually, he sent her twin brother Denzie, since he knew more about the ailment than any Galra ever could.

By the end of her illness, Lotor will have exhausted every physician's office, or book in the Tylyrion library to ensure if another bout were to happen, he'd be able to aid her even further. His love for her was unending and unyielding, no matter what horrors she may cough up in the future.

Mereoleona

Despite her magical attribute, Lucia is not built for the cold and hates it. If she is ever ill, it's usually due to exposure to the elements, or exhaustion from her training.

Regardless of the cause, Mereoleona isn't having it. She'll have Lucia training through the illness to build strength, stating that she's never ill so it must be correct. Of course, this doesn't work, and usually Lucia ends up with a high fever or simply collapses from the stress put on her aching body.

When she wakes up, she'll be laid across her sleeping bag with Mereoleona's lap acting as a pillow, her hand against her head to keep a cold rag in place.

If asked, she'll tell Lucia she's only sat there because her Mana skin is keeping her at a normal body temperature, but in actuality, the lioness was worried. Lucia was her partner in crime, her pride, her mate...

She wouldn't forgive herself if she caused her death.

Piers

Okay, so this man is the stereotypical British bloke if his partner is ill. Thorn's flat has no heating, and she tends to use her money on musical equipment and skips meals to afford it and food for her Pokemon. As a result, she's ill often when she's left to her own devices for too long.

Piers will wake up at 6am to a text from Thorn, which is just a selfie of Bioshock next to Thorn's red-faced and sweating form shivering beneath the sheets of her frameless bed. And of course, being the sweetie he is, he curses to himself before he scrambles out of bed to assist her.

He'll use his spare key to enter her flat with a backpack filled with supplies and work on warming up the place with a wood-burning stove he gave her for Christmas a few months back, which she often forgot to use. To his surprise, she'll sleep right through him setting it up in her room, and will only wake up when he brings her a bowl of soup, a cup of tea, and some crumpets.

The two then spend the day together, snuggling beneath her blankets as he serenades her with music and strokes her hair to help her sleep. All the while he wondered what the hell made him fall in love with her in the first place.

Usually, if he tickles her cheek while she sleeps, she smiles, and that's when he remembers.

Aaravos

Nymera can't just tell someone when she's ill, and in her lethargic state, she barely has the energy to sign or write what's wrong with her. In those moments, Aaravos is on hand with his keen observations and meticulous mind. He will check her symptoms and find out what's wrong, before he works on a spell or potion that will cure her ailment.

If her illness is cureable, he will carry her to bed and carefully help her drink the liquid, before ushering her to sleep. She'll wake later to him cuddling her from behind, though he's propped his head up on his other hand to watch her with a smile.

He would make her laugh silently by stating she was the only mortal who could still be astonishingly beautiful, even with snot dribbling down her cheek.

If the illness isn't curable, expect him to start researching it further, most common illnesses can be cured easily; so if it can't, then something is very, very wrong. He will read through his whole library with a stern frown, only stopping to tend to her when she starts hacking or needs something to drink or eat.

Once he has a cure, he will help her take it and stay by her side until she recovers. In this time, he holds her close nightly, hoping she wakes up refreshed.

He couldn't bear to lose another loved one, not again.

Vax'ildan

Soft boi alert!

Ryah is rarely ill, it's a pretty common side-effect to being on the verge of life and death. However, there are still ailments out there that can test that side-effect to its limit. Take poison for example.

If Ryah is ever poisoned, expect Vax to be shitting himself as a result. Even after she's given an antidote, he will not stop fretting until his sister grabs him by the shoulders and swears she'll be alright.

Ryah will remain unconscious, thanks to the effects of the poison, and every day, Vax will tend to her bedside. He'll fluff her pillow, place a fresh glass of water on her nightstand, and even attempt to make her favourite small pastries so she has something to eat when she wakes up. She's the baker of the group, so they're a mess, but edible none-the-less.

He'll sleep in the chair by her bed, no matter how many times the members of Vox Machina tell him otherwise. Even Percy can't get him to leave by promising to watch out for her. Eventually, he'll fall asleep on his crossed arms over her legs, looking utterly exhausted.

That's when Ryah will finally come to, and in her shifting, she'll wake him, causing him to bound upright and knock over his chair. He'll help her drink some water, and get her talking for a bit before he breaks down in tears and just holds her for a while. Even if all the noise causes Percy to barge through the door, she'll simply shush him, and he'll smile and close the door, leaving them to their moment.

Vax couldn't begin to tell Ryah how much he loved her, how much he feared she wouldn't wake up, and he didn't need to.

She already knew.

[intermorior]

[cis man and he/him] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [SIMON MORAN]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [ANDREW LINCOLN] You must be the [FIFTY] year old [SOCIAL WORKER] Word is you’re [LEVEL-HEADED] but can also be a bit [RESTRAINED] and your favorite song is [TWO BLUE LIGHTS BY SONGS: OHIA] I also heard you’ll be staying in [OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS] I’m sure you’ll love it!

hi im tj allow me to introduce u to my fruit gummy simon :)

born in manchester, april eleventh, nineteen seventy-one. his father worked in the mills open to close and his mother was a house cleaner.

grew up on a rough council estate. always was the broad-shouldered beanpole so he learnt to fight early, had to defend himself.

freshly 18, joins the british army, entered the parachute regiment (paras). got tapped for SAS selection. passed his first go, one of 12 out of 300.

served 22 years. got to sgt. major. ied in helmand takes out his vehicle, kills three of his teammates and leaves him with shrapnel wounds, a tbi, partial hearing loss and a fucked up knee.

gets medically discharged (seethed)

whole life falls apart because who is he without a mission and a uniform. can't sleep. can't connect with the outside world. his depression era. dark things happened here.

va counselor yanks him out of the pit. makes him see that he can still serve through helping other people. gets his social work degree, starts working crisis intervention.

one of his teammates (rip) made him a deal during service that if he didn't make it out, simon could have his family home in aurora bay. simon was like yea ok mate we're still gettin' u out of here. to cut a long story short my guy did not make it and it took a long time for his will to get sorted out. now simon's here (living in a flat in ocean crest because the sparse remaining family are seething and malding about this random dilf getting the house. this has been going on for two years and shows no signs of being resolved soon LMFAO)

he works at the local va-cboc... the community outpatient clinic. hes also involved in nonprofit veteran outreach. specializes in PTSD support, particularly crisis management and suic/de prevention.

his knee is in bad shape. he has balance issues from his hearing loss. he has chronic pain. but fuck it we ball.

personality wise... stoic, observant, grounded, deeply empathetic beneath a hardened exterior. sarcastic wit, dark sense of humor. loyal, overprotective, pragmatic, emotionally reserved but intense when he connects. resentful of the military yet nostalgic. grounded in purpose—“helping others is the mission now.”

connection ideas?!?! do u guys remember plot bunnies. i do. miss that term so bad.

the coffee shop regular: they both frequent the same café, grumbling about the terrible coffee but drinking it anyway. maybe they bond over mutual sarcasm...?! waggles eyebrow.

fellow manchester FREAK: ow do, me old pal from the big manc

annoying neighbor: they’re either endearingly irritating or just… irritating. dw simon can be the annoying crotchety one also.

local mechanic: the only person simon trusts to work on his old pos car (i have not decided what car it is i know nothing about vehicles they are loud and they scare me) there’s mutual respect here because si knows they wont jerk him around

gym buddy (reluctantly): someone who keeps trying to rope simon into casual workouts, despite simon’s gruff refusals. over time, it just… becomes a routine.

farmer’s market vendor: sells him vegetables he doesn’t even like, but he keeps going back because he appreciates their no-nonsense attitude and respects the grind.

library regular: they both sit in the library at the same time every week.

post office friend: they bond over complaining about lost mail, long lines, and the eternal mystery of why the package simon ordered three weeks ago still isn’t here.

dog walker (he doesn’t own a dog): he keeps running into the same person walking their dog on his route, and now the dog is obsessed with him. please convince him to get a dog i think it would stop him from crying himself to sleep at night

the rando at the diner: they always end up seated near each other at the local diner. eventually, they start making snarky comments about the specials.

the waiter at said diner: hates his guts because he talks shit about the specials

um my fave tropes are angst. found family. low-stakes connections. high stakes connections. silly goofy plot points as much as serious ones. idk im here to vibe.

[platosshadowpuppet]

My favourite building in Edinburgh is the Central Library and my favourite part of that is the Arcane section.

The Central Library is an ornate Victorian structure, entered via a bridge from George IV Street (George Street is an elevated street, built across and above the much older Cowgate, where the library's foundations sit. Hence the need for a bridge to cross the gap between street level on George street and the front entrance to the library, which is actually on its fifth floor. As with many British cities, Edinburgh is mostly built on other older bits of Edinburgh).

The Arcane section sits at the very top of the library, beneath a dome of iron filagree and glass. The whole space is in a Folded Room, tucked safely away from the modern world. If any casual library visitors wonder that they can never seem to find the glass domed room visible from the outside, a strong glamour of inattention nudges their thoughts onto a different track.

Reading desks are scattered amongst the Arcane section's oak shelves. Each has its own gaslit reading lamp, with green glass lampshade, and an iron warding circle set into the tabletop - just incase any of the grimoires start to get restless.

If you grow tired of reading, each desk has its own tantalising view out over the city's roofscape. Slivers of Grey friar's kirkyard, Grassmarket, Carlton Hill or the distant castle are visible between the shelves, depending on where you sit.

Always this place is popular with Edinburgh's Cunning Folk. Keen students and apprentices labor at dusty tomes, and the occasional unusually academic Fae can be seen digging through genealogical records, looking to back up some boast about their ancestors' deeds.

On a Monday morning the space is even quieter than usual. Most of the younger readers are face down on their chosen books, deeply regretting the choices of the night before. Along with the scents of old paper, wood and leather, there's a distinct smell of stale beach leaf wine and hawthorn liqueur.

I take a cruel pleasure in setting down my own book a little harder than necessary, just to enjoy the pained groans from nearby tables.

[roseofithaca]

Run, Little Witch (Part 5)

Mary faces her demons.

It had started out as any other boring school day when her teacher had handed out their textbooks for what they were studying that week. The Twelve Labours of Heracles. An hour later, she had been engrossed in the stories of heroes and monsters and grand epic adventures. Once home, she had practically dragged her dad to take her to the library to take out as many books as she could on Greek mythology. For one of the few times, they'd had something to bond over, as she'd watched the old screen adaptations he thought a seven year old girl would never be into. Jason and the Argonauts. Clash of the Titans.

But it wasn't so much the heroes that little Louise found herself obsessed with. It was the gods and goddesses, particularly the latter. Her family wasn't religious but her school was CofE, same as most British primaries. She'd been taught stories from the Bible and made to sing hymns each morning at assembly. It had bored her to tears. Her parents had never discouraged any belief in the Christian god but she'd never felt as though there was anything there.

But when looking at the images of the Hellenic pantheon, on these magnificent and complex characters that were as much a part of nature as its creators and overseers, she felt a connection like never before. When she looked up at the full moon and called to Artemis, Selene and Hekate, she felt them call back to her. When she felt the tendrils of anxiety begin to coil around her chest, a call to Ares or Pan or Athena was enough to make them recede.

Finally, she no longer felt alone.

But tonight, as the family she had believed the gods had delivered her to in a strange twist of fate, dragged her towards the ancient well, she began to doubt her faith for the first time in over twenty years.

What would eternal darkness in a cramped space be like? How long would it take for her to lose her mind, even with being asleep most of the time? Would it come as a blessing? Would there ever be a way for Alison to get her out?

Will she even bother?

She barely has the strength left to keep fighting as they stop a metre from the moss covered stones.

"Any last words before we cast you out, witch?" The Captain asked.

Part of her wanted to leave with one sassy quip or smartass comment. She wanted to twist the knife in. But she was tired. So fucking tired.

"Just....know that, I don't blame any of you." She spoke, weak and broken. "I dunno when you'll get your true selves back but, whatever happens, it's not your guys' fault. I know you'd never want this. And...if you can just come visit and speak to me now and then, I'd appreciate it. I...I love you. All of you. Remember that."

A pause.

Then they all burst into laughter around her.

"Oh, that was so cringe, as the kids say." Julian snorts.

"Even I would never be that sappy." Kitty sneered.

Whatever. If it was her last chance to say the words, she wasn't going to waste it.

"Disappointing, I'll admit. But we won't delay putting you out of your misery much longer." Cap tucked his stick beneath his arm; "Robin, I think you should do the honours."

No, not him, please, any of them but him.

Refusing to go down, literally, without a fight, she thrashed and wailed as Robin attempted to pin her arms to her side and lift her up, holding her without a fraction of the tenderness he had held her so many nights before. She met his growls for her to be still with her own, snarling and spitting in his face. Her fingers clawed at his jagged mouth.

Let her be like Atalanta, she thought to herself. Let her be Boudica. Goddess, give her strength and power. Save her.

"Pius Montgomery!"

Everything went still as the name echoed across the field. Robin dropped her to his feet but kept a tight grip on her arms.

All the ghosts turned to where the interruption stood.

"What is it, woman?" Captain asked, irrate.

"The name be Mary. Not that I's expects you to remembers that. But you asked me earlier if we hadst met before. And we have." She said, more calm and confident than Silver had ever seen her be; "You oversaw my death on this here field."

He rolled his eyes; "I sent many a Mary into hellfire, wench. Common a name as there ever was one at that time."

"Ah, but there be only one Mary that you dids put to the pyre."

She raised her hands up, smoke billowing out from beneath her dress and sleeves and bonnet. The wind carried the scent of charred flesh. Human flesh.

The Captain's eyes widened.

"Of course. The Guppy woman!" He began to chuckle; "How did I not see it? Oh, you were an accursed creature if there ever was one. I still recall how you wailed before the flames even touched your feet."

His words cut enough to make Mary wince at the memory, just a tad, but she held her ground.

"That is troth. And yet...I remain your biggest failure."

A beat.

"How so?"

Mary smirked, "Because I still be here! You thought you'd sent me down to Hellfire but look! My body may be but ashes in the wind, but look at me!" She raised her arms in triumph; "My spirit doth thrive! I do nots suffer in the river of Styx and plea for redemption. Instead, I be more free in death than I was ever so in life!"

Silver could feel Robin's claws digging into her upper arms, but she knew the anger coming from the spirit inside him wasn't directed at her. All of the ghosts were glaring at Mary as she made her speech. Cap's knuckles turned white as he gripped his stick.

But...this meant that Mary really hadn't been affected by the spell. She hadn't been lying when she'd offered to protect Silver before. Fucksake, she'd jumped out of a rescue plane and back into the fire.

"You dare to blaspheme before me, woman..." Cap seethed.

"Oh? Can't handle that you lost?" Mary continued to taunt; "It be the truth. I spend my days in the sun without caring for a man's needs. I spend the Lord's time being idle. I revel in gossip with my fellow wenches. I curse the menfolk for all their misdeeds. I speak as a find, I laugh, I act, I sings...and I even fornicate!"

Everyone turned their heads to look at Robin, who merely cleared his throat.

"Filthy whore..." Cap grizzled.

"I even mades love with another woman." She admits with pride.

"SILENCE!"

Silver couldn't help but laugh. Whatever Mary was doing, she was just happy to watch this play out. One last moment of entertainment before her descent.

"And look at yous now! You failed to get me so you be going after a little girl with no real power, just misguided faith in fairy tales." Mary continued to mock him; "You be a piss poor servant to your Lord. How abouts you leave the silly wench and get what you truly want? Or be ye a scardey cat?"

Fuck. Is that what she was doing? Trying to sacrifice herself to save...

No. Goddess, no.

"Mary, don't-!" She tried to move forward but the cavemen held her down firm.

"How about I send you both down? Witch Mother and Witch Brat together forever." Said Cap, already advancing towards the smoking woman.

Mary smiled.

"Let it be. But yous haves to catch me first!" She ran back towards the house.

Silver's mind threw itself back into panic mode.

No. Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me.

"All of you stay with the young one. I'll get the crone." Captain marched towards the house. "She won't slip away from me this time."

Inside James' head, he was screaming.

One moment he'd been at the window of the common room, looking out across the moonlit field as he waited for the others - late as usual - to arrive for Story Club. The came the sound of glass smashing on the floor down the hall. Before he could go to investigate, to check if Alison was unharmed, something had caught his attention in the reflection of the windowpane. Then, before he knew what was happening, a thousand tiny worms were wriggling their way through his eye sockets and into his brain.

Suddenly, his body was not his own. His hands, his feet, his voice were being controlled by whatever interloper had invaded his soul. Silver had entered the room and his eyes were immediately drawn to the pentacle around her neck. A symbol which had caused him some weariness on first meeting her, but then grew to appreciate after she'd explained its meaning to him.

Balance. The four elements and the spirit in harmony. Protection. He might not share her beliefs but they were a part of her personality, for better or worse. There were many frequent reasons for them to clash but her pagan religion was of no concern to him.

But the entity within him had burned with rage at the sight of her. Not just the symbol, but her clothes, her attitude, the very existence of her.

He'd tried to fight. Good Lord, he had fought with all his strength as his own hands had been made to strike at her. As the stick, Anthony's stick, had been used as a weapon. An instrument of torture.

And to make matters worse, he wasn't the only one. The curse had fallen upon the others. Even sweet Katherine. Even Robin, who they all knew adored the girl as if she were the daughter of his precious Moonah.

He would never forgive himself for the pain Silver had been put through. If she was sent down the well by his command, whether it was his will or not, he would spend every waking moment of his existence trying to bring her back into the light.

But then came Mary. Brave, wonderful Mary. She goaded the demon within him. She lured him back to the house, intent on finishing the work he'd begun four hundred years before.

And she lead him straight into Alison and Mike, the two of them holding up a cracked mirror.

His own reflection stared back at him, startled by the sight of his black eyes.

"In the name of the Lord, I do banish thee from this world." Mary spoke with urgent clarity, moving to stand behind him; "In Jesus' name, I do cast thee out of this stolen vessel and into the mirror."

"No....No, you won't put me back! I refuse to go back!" He bellowed, furious.

But there was already a gravitational pull emerging from the glass. James could feel it, he could feel the parasite losing its grip on him. His mind finally had the give to wriggle free and push against him.

"Mary, I dunno how long I can hold this for." Alison warned.

"Yeah...I keep feeling the need to drop it." Mike confessed.

Come on, you two. Just a little bit longer.

They all had to work together to see that this was done. James gripped his stick, thinking of Anthony, of the words of encouragement he'd give if he were here. Fight, Sir. Fight, Captain. Fight, James. Don't give up. Your friends are waiting.

"God in Heaven, we ask you to lend us your power! Send this creature to a place He can never cause harm again!" Mary prayed aloud; "Release your servant! Seal the monster! Let him be bound for all eternity! In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen!"

"No, no...No, no, no!" The spirit thrashed like a child having a tantrum; "I won't go! I won't go back!"

"Yes you will." James regained control of his voice, "Now, in the words of my foul mouthed young friend, piss off!"

With one final mental kick, he dismissed the creature from his ethereal body and sent it hurtling into the mirror.

Alison and Mike struggled to keep their grip as the black onyx gems shimmered.

And then there was silence.

Everyone stumbled forward, clutching at their stomachs and retching violently. Darkness wafted out of them, like the pineapple scented fumes that occasionally came with Kitty's vomiting. Only this left them with the taste of burnt flesh on their tongues.

They put their hands out to keep their balance, the world seeming to spin around them as if an earthquake had just passed. Kitty and Fanny reached for each other while Julian grabbed Pat and Thomas nearly collapsed into Humphrey's body's arms.

"...That was a bad dream. Right?" Julian was the first to break the silence, "We all snorted some stuff we shouldn't have and had a really bad joint trip, yes?"

The look everyone gave him said enough.

"....Thought so. Damn it." He cursed, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

Robin blinked, then looked down to the source of the soft sobbing coming from beneath him. His fingers were still dug deep into two pale arms.

"Moo...Moonah girl?"

He let her go and she scrambled back, away from them all.

"Woah, woah, pet, it's all right." Pat attempted, reaching a hand out to her as she staggered back like a wounded animal; "Easy now, Silver, love. He's gone now. There's no reason to be afraid."

That didn't seem to be nearly enough to reassure the traumatised young woman. Her eyes, unnaturally bright from the permanent contacts within, gazed at them all with fear and distrust.

Robin stared in bewilderment at his paws. Then he made a move towards her.

"Silver-."

"DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!" She screamed, then collapsed against a tree. Sobs wracked her body, making each breath short and shallow.

Kitty clutched at her mouth; "Oh no. What have we done?!"

They propped up the mostly restored mirror against the living room wall.

"And you're sure it's done?" Alison asked Mary.

"Can yous still feel him slitherin' in your brain?"

She shook her head. When she thought of Silver, there was no sense of unease or caution. She was just Silver. Their sweet but occasionally obnoxious and opinionated Wiccan.

"Then I thinks it work." Mary said, breathing a sigh of relief; "Best make sure this glass holds and doth not risk being broken again."

"Mike's friend has a crate load of screen protectors. They're for phones but he's gonna see if I can tape them all together or something. We'll sort it, don't worry." She smiled at her friend; "I know better than not to take you seriously from now on, Mary. I feel awful."

"And sos so you shoulds. But I is glad you learned."

They turned to look at the Captain, sat on the sofa, head in his hands. He'd already asked to be given a moment while he grappled with the nights events. Understandable. Pius seemed to have honed in on him in particular as his main vessel for whatever reason.

If he was free then surely the others were as well.

As if for confirmation, Pat passed through the wall, out of breath from running but looking very much the kind Yorkshireman they knew.

"Mary. You're needed, love."

Her screams had subsided into endless crying as she sat on the grass, hugging her knees to her chest, tears falling onto her patterned leggings.

They'd all given up on trying to approach her. Every movement and soft word just seemed to upset her more.

Robin, instead, went over to Kitty, also quietly crying, and put his arm around her shoulder. Thomas and Julian hanged their heads in quiet shame as Humphrey's body carried his own sullen head.

What could be said to fix what had occurred tonight, the tragedy had been narrowly avoided?

"Darlin' girl!"

Silver raised her head at Mary's voice, blinking through her tears to see the older woman jogging towards her.

The young witch released another sob and reached her arms up towards her.

Mary fell to her knees and pulled her into the biggest hug, Silver clutching onto her, grabbing at the folds of her dress and burying her face against her chest.

Alison followed close behind, quietly herding the group back to the house to give the two of them a moment.

Both Robin and Kitty looked back, guiltily, before tearing themselves away.

Silver cried out every bit of anguish she had been through for this one evening. It had felt like so much longer. She couldn't even look forward to the mercy of sleep for another twenty eight hours.

Until then, she just wanted to bury herself in the arms of the one person who hadn't hurt her with words or fists this wretched night. The one who had been willing to put herself in harms way to save her.

"There there, little'en. T'is over now. I'm here. I's got you, my darlin'."