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Avengers Preferences

How You Meet

Masterlist

Captain America/Steve Rogers-

Working for the infamous Nick Fury was a hard job as it was. Now working for him as and being his goddaughter was a whole other level of difficult. Behind closed doors, he was gentler and loving in his own, unique way. However, in public, it was strictly professional. You didn’t receive any special treatment and were held to the same standard as every other agent. You didn’t mind, it was how it was and you were understanding.

Fury had been proud and excited when you decided to become a SHIELD agent. As you quickly rose through the ranks, you began working closely with Phil Coulson and Maria Hill. You also worked closely with Hawkeye and Black Widow. In fact, they were the ones who recommended you for the Avengers Initiative. Fury protested at first because of Tony Stark, but with some help from Hill and Coulson, he relented.

To welcome you and bring some positive light to himself, Tony Stark threw one of his legendary parties. Opting for a more modest look, especially considering your godfather was there, you wore a dress that stopped at your knees and some comfortable flats. You kept your makeup minimal and natural as well. After you were satisfied with your appearance, you made your way to the party.

The party was indeed just as grand and lavish as everything Tony Stark did. People mingled about, barely acknowledging you despite the party being in your honor. You didn’t really care though. You knew they were just here for the free booze. You pushed your way to the bar where you saw Natasha and Maria talking.

“Ladies,” you greeted. They smiled and waved you over, handing you a glass full of sparkling liquid.

“Hey, you look cute,” Maria said. You smiled, tilting your head.

“Well, it was this or sweats,” you jested. Natasha let out a snort, smirking behind her glass.

"Ah! Here she comes. The woman of the hour," Clint announced. You playfully rolled your eyes.

“There she is! The woman of the hour!” Clint announced as he made his way to you. You playfully rolled your eyes. He waved over two figures. “Y/N, meet Dr. Banner and Thor.” Dr. Banner was a small man with glasses who looked completely uncomfortable. His hair was a curly mess as he rubbed his hands together, eyes darting in every direction. Thor seemed more at ease in this environment. He gave you a big smile, grasping your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his voice booming over the loud music and other party-goers. He was a giant compared to everyone with long, blonde hair.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” you replied. The six of you engaged in small talk, well, more like you Maria. Natasha and Dr. Banner had some weird, and slightly awkward flirting thing going on between them that you wanted absolutely nothing a part of. And Clint and Thor were trying to outdrink each other. Though from the look of it, Thor was winning easily.

After a while, Phil came up to congratulate you. He nodded towards the other side of the room where you spotted Fury talking to America’s own golden boy, Captain America. Though they appeared deep in conversation, Fury waved you over. Phil gave you a pat on the back as he replaced your spot next to Maria.

“L/N. I want you to meet your new leader, Captain Rogers. Rogers, this is your newest recruit, Agent Y/N L/N.” You nodded your head, sticking your hand out. He grasped your hand, shaking it firmly. His hands were surprisingly soft--just like his baby blue eyes. He gave you a boyish grin, causing you to smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Agent L/N,” he told you.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain Rogers,” you replied. He gave you a boyish grin, scratching behind his ear.

"Please, call me Steve."

"Y/N."

Iron Man/Tony Stark-

Most people spent their Friday nights at the bars, getting wasted with friends and hitting on strangers. Not you though, you worked well into the night. You were at the bar too, but you were behind the counter, watching as everyone made fools of themselves. Though, you didn’t usually work on Friday nights, but your coworker had convinced you to cover their shift, a stupid decision on your part. While the amount of money you would make would be amazing, having hundreds of people scream for your attention wasn’t.

This Friday night was no different than any other. Loud, drunk adults slurred their orders to you as they attempted to flirt with each other. The night seemed to drag on as you continued to make drinks and throw away napkins with scribbled numbers on them. And as the night progressed, and the crowd around the bar slowly but surely diminished, you were able to relax somewhat. You were just about done with creeps staring at your tits.

You were cleaning a glass when someone called for you. You set the glass down and turned around, throwing the rag over your shoulder. If you weren’t so tired, you probably would have choked on air when you saw Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and freaking Iron Man sitting at your bar. You walked over to him, resting your forearms on the bar.

“What’s your poison, sweetcheeks?” you asked. He licked his lips, peering over the rim of his glasses at you. You quirked a brow, staring at him expectantly.

“I’ll have your best whiskey--neat.” You nodded, turning to pour him his desired drink. Despite his television persona, the man at least had taste. You handed him his drink, watching as he took a long sip. He nodded his head approvingly. “This is perfect. You know, I could give you my best later. Though I can’t promise it’ll be neat,” he said with a wink. You let out a snort, shaking your head.

“Sorry sweetcheeks, but you’re gonna have to do better than that. I thought you were a playboy?” you teased. He chuckled, shooting you a wink. You didn’t see him much after that, he seemed to have disappeared from the bar, probably in the arms of some hot, blonde, model. You shook your head, continuing to clean the counter. Guys like him didn’t go for girls like you. Not seriously.

Your shift finally ended when the bar closed around two o’clock. Relief flooded your body as you collected your tips and clocked out. You bade your coworker a good night and began your trek home. While you were walking under the streetlights, your skin began crawling. You looked around but couldn’t see anyone around you. Quickening your pace, you marched on, your purse clutched in your hand.

You were almost to the front stoop of your apartment when a pair of arms wrapped around your body, yanking you into a dark alley. One of the hands covered your mouth while the other was wrapped securely around your arms and body.

“Hey baby. Wanna have some fun?” slurred a voice. You rolled your eyes despite the danger you were in. You struggled to break his grip on you, but he was a lot stronger than he appeared. “Calm down baby, I’m not gonna hurt you.” His breath reeked of alcohol, making you want to gag.

“Maybe not, but if you don’t let her go, I’m going to hurt you.” The drunk let go of you and scampered away. You fell back against the nearby wall, taking deep breaths.

“Thank you, so much,” you said, turning your head. You certainly weren’t expecting to see Iron Man standing on the sidewalk outside the alley way. His face lifted up, revealing Tony Stark beneath the mask.

“So… about my previous offer.” You shot him a harsh glare. He held his hands up, taking a step back. “Kidding, although, I should at least get your number. You know, in case you need me to save you again.” You rolled your eyes but pulled your lipstick out of your bag anyway, writing your number on the arm of his suit.

Hulk/Dr. Bruce Banner-

After the New York incident, your brother, Clint Barton, had been very adamant about you moving in with him. Well, he actually wanted you to move in with Laura, but you refused to live on a farm. Tasha and your brother had helped you move from your tiny apartment to your room at the compound, located conveniently next to Clint’s.

Tony came to help as well. As well as to see one of his favorite college buddies. Oh yes, you, him and Rhodey had all gone to college together, though you were a few years younger than them. He’d been more than happy to hear you’d be moving into the tower.

Once everything had been unpacked and put into its place and you were settled, Clint took you up to meet the rest of your housemates. They were all waiting around in a lounge room with Tony, naturally, in the center of the crowd, talking animatedly about himself.

“Mini Me!” he cried when he saw you. He dramatically sauntered over to you, wrapping you in a hug. Your brother, usually not fond of men near you, had no problem with Tony. You returned his hug. “A pleasure to have you finally join us.” You chuckled, detangling yourself from him. Clint wrapped his arm around your shoulders, guiding you to the rest of the Avengers.

“Guys, this is my sister, Y/N. Y/N, this is Steve Rogers, Thor, and Dr. Bruce Banner.”

“It’s great to finally meet you all,” you told them, flashing them your dazzling smile. “Clint has told me so much about you guys.” Thor was the first to approach you, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Y/N.” You let out a giggle, covering your cheek.

“Oh, I like you.” He flashed you a bright smile which you happily returned. Steve said hello, offering you a simple handshake. Bruce was more timid, giving you a curt nod and a small wave. You found his semi-flustered state cute, and it kind of melted your heart.

“So, uh, what’s the story behind Tony’s nickname for you?” Steve inquired. Before you could reply, Tony was wrapping his arm around your shoulders, answering for you.

“Well you see, Capsical, this marvelous, young woman here is party central. You guys thought I was crazy--this girl--this girl is crazier. Her knowledge of alcohol is unbelievable and her ability to attract the male gaze is unbeatable.” Clint glared at that last part, rolling his eyes. You brushed Tony’s arm off, crossing your arms over your chest.

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I did get two degrees in art and design and biochemical engineering.” The rest of the Avengers let out ooh’s at Tony. He threw his hands up in defense, bowing his head down. Clint brought his hands to your shoulders, shaking you slightly. You glanced over to Bruce, watching as he quickly averted his gaze from you, finding the ceiling far more fascinating.

Hawkeye/Clint Barton-

Being handed the wrapped flag was never something you thought would actually happen to you. The soldiers had been very helpful, offering to drive you to where you needed to go. You could only really go to one place. You’d just lost the only family you had left. You gave the soldiers the address and sat in the back of the car, staring out the window.

They asked for confirmation about the address when they pulled up to the Avenger’s Tower. You simply thanked them for their time and stepped out of their car. You held the flag close to your chest as you walked past agents and tower workers and went straight to the elevator. Tears welled in your eyes as the doors closed behind you.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” you called, your voice cracking. “Take me to the floor Tony’s on.” You really hoped he was in the room or in his lab.

"Right away Ms. L/N," the AI replied. You stood in the elevator, tears threatening to spill as you waited for the elevator to open. You rushed out when the elevator doors opened but stopped short when you saw Tony surrounded by the Avengers.

Once they did, you froze in your place. Tony had been your friend since college. You knew that you could always depend on him to be there for you, especially now. The other Avengers who surrounded him however, you were less than certain about. You contemplated leaving when F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimed in.

“Sir, Y/N L/N is here to see you.” He turned his head with a smile, opening his arms. His eyes traveled to the flag in your arms and his face fell.

“Oh… Y/N.” You lip quivered as you cast your eyes down, tears blurring your vision. You heard footsteps approaching you and a pair of arms wrapping around you. “Y/N.” Tony stroked your head as your body began shaking.

"They're--they're gone," you choked out.

"Who's gone?" the other guy inquired. You tried answering, but all that came out were choked sobs. "Hey, Y/N, I'm going to need you to breathe. Inhale. Hold. Exhale." After repeating the exercises a few times, your breathing was steady.

"Y/N, what happened?" Tony asked again.

"S/N was killed in combat," you said, fresh tears welling up in your eyes. "I just lost my whole family." You began hiccupping violently, making it hard to breathe.

"Clint, take her to my room. I'll be there shortly," Tony ordered. Clint led you to Tony's penthouse suite. He sat you on the bed, rubbing your shoulder.

"Thank you." You attempted to give him a weak smile.

"Feel better. I'm sorry for your loss," he told you, returning your smile with a soft one.

Thor Odinson-

Being one of SHIELD’s top agents came with both perks and nuances. Perks included always being in the loop of every underground operation, including the fact that Phil Coulson faked his death. Nuances included being hyper-aware of everyone around you at any given time, friends and foes alike.

Tony Stark inviting you to a party, well, all of SHIELD, was inviting paranoia. Your coworkers assured you that you were just in work mode, and this would help you relax. To appease them, you begrudgingly agreed to go.

You didn’t dress up, opting for a casual look to help you blend in. You made sure you were armed before finding a seat at the bar. Natasha was playing bartender, her eyes seeing everything all at once.

“Don’t have too much fun there,” she said, gesturing down to your cup of barely touched water. You lifted your brows quickly, looking back at the other SHIELD agents partying their hearts out.

“No promises.” She let out a snort, moving to mix another cocktail.

The hairs on the back of your neck began to stand up. You let your highly trained eyes scan the room, but you didn’t see anything. Then a thought hit you. You glanced up, searching the ceiling until you found a pair of eyes looking down at you from the vents. They shot you a wink before disappearing. Your eyes narrowed until you heard a cough behind you.

You turned to find the Prince of Asgard behind you, dressed more casually than you’d see him before. You raised a brow, looking him up and down.

“Good evening my lady. I am looking for our mutual friend Barton. Do you know where I can find him?” You glanced back towards the vent, waiting for the Prince to follow your gaze.

“Sorry, your Highness. Can’t say I’ve seen him,” you told him. He turned and found you staring at the vent. He gave you a big grin, bowing his head.

“A shame. I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”

“Not at all.”

“If that’s the case, I’d love a dance.” You turned back to Nat who was motioning for you to go. You bit your tongue, looking around the room.

“How can I--” You trailed off. From the corner of your eye, you spotted another coworker sitting at the other end of the bar. Her eyes kept flickering between her drink and the jacket that covered some guy’s arm from the elbow down. “Hold that thought.”

You set your untouched water down, moving down the bar. Nat followed you, keeping an eye on you. You carefully took out one of your concealed knives, pressing it to the guy’s back. He tensed immediately, allowing for your coworker to slip away.

Unfortunately he wasn’t the only undercover spy. A mass shoot-out took place, bullets whizzed by, glass shattered, and bodies hit the floor. Thankfully, most SHIELD agents survived unharmed.

You watched as Maria, Clint, and Nat hauled the last of the spies out of the party, handcuffs on their wrists. Thor approached you as you finished giving your statement, holding tightly onto Mjölnir. He opened his mouth to say something, but Clint called for you, waving you towards one of the SUVs.

“Raincheck on that dance?” you called back, jogging towards the van. Thor bowed his head, lifting Mjölnir briefly. You shot him a wink, sliding into the car before it took off.

Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff-

Drinking was not something you did very often. Drinking alone was something you only did within the comfort and safety of your own apartment. So why were you sitting alone at a bar on a Friday night? Well, your boyfriend had a terrible accident. He tripped and fell into your manager’s bed.

“Well hello there.” You tipped back another shot, setting the cup back down onto the bar. You turned slowly in your seat to stare at the blurry man now seated next to you. Raising a brow, you moved to rest your head in your hand. “Hey Sweetheart. I hate to bother you, but I could really use your number?” the stranger asked.

“I think you could use a better line,” you slurred, rolling your eyes. You turned back to face the bar, staring down at your empty shot glass. From your other side you heard someone laughing. Glancing over, you could only make out another blurry man with almost white hair. “Can I help you?”

“Do you know who you just turned down?” he asked with a thick, foreign accent. You shook your head, immediately regretting it. You held your hand to your head, willing your brain to stop moving around. “That was Tony Stark.” You scoffed.

“Then I’m glad I turned him down,” you said. The blonde man smirked, you thought. He was slowly coming into focus, and he was actually kind of cute. Kind of. Poor lighting and tequila made everyone look good.

“You’re funny. And cute. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked. You shrugged.

“Men suck. Left me for his stupid manager. She’s not even pretty,” you said, face heating up with anger and alcohol. The man winced.

“Yeah, men do suck. I’m Pietro by the way.”

"Y/N."

“Y/N,” he repeated. The way your name sounded with his accent almost had you swooning… almost. “You should head home. You’re wasted, and I’d hate for someone to take advantage of you.”

“And you’ve been doing what, exactly?” you challenged. He grinned, looking down at his hands which had somehow gotten ahold of your phone.

“Distracting you so you can sober up a bit before the cab I called arrives.” He handed your phone back to you. “I’ll have one of the bartenders escort you. When you’re sober, give me a call.”

Spiderman/Peter Parker-

Switching schools was never something you liked. Always being the new kid and having to recreate a social life was always hard and frustrating. Trying to be the lone wolf never worked in your favor either. Your bubbly and friendly personality didn’t let you fade into the shadows. Then when you inevitably moved, it was always full of tears.

Your latest move wasn’t any different. Your family had relocated to New York City for your father’s business. Once again you were in a new school, surrounded by people you didn’t know. While their faces blurred together, yours stuck out. Tingles ran up your spine as you avoided everyone’s curious gazes. You glanced down at the paper containing your schedule and locker number and combination.

You found it easy enough, but when you entered the combination it refused to budge. You double checked the combination before carefully putting it in.

“Son of a bitch,” you mumbled, shaking the lock. You dropped the lock, resting your head against the cold metal door.

“Need some help with that?” A tall girl with glasses and frizzy hair pulled into a lazy ponytail stood a little ways down. She was standing in front of, presumably, her own locker, a tower of books balanced in her arm.

“That’d be great, thanks,” you said. You stood up straight, pulling your mouth into a thin line.

“These things suck,” she told you. She slammed her own locker shut. She jiggled your lock before hitting the door with her elbow. It swung open with complete ease.

“Thank you.” You bowed your head slightly.

“No problem. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Uh, no. I’m new. My name’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.” You stuck your hand out, a smile on your face.

“Hey, I’m--”

“MJ!”

You turned around to find two boys coming down the hallway, waving their hands excitedly. One boy had tan skin and dark hair that was neatly combed, while the other was pale with light brown hair and wore a dorky sweater.

“MJ! We’ve been looking for you,” the first guy said, almost ignoring you.

“I was just helping out Y/N here,” she said. “Y/N this is Ned and Peter-- a couple of losers.”

“Um, hi.” You gave the boys an awkward wave as the bell rang loudly. “I’ll see you guys around. Thanks for opening my locker.” You gave the three of them a tight-lipped smile before hurrying down the hall.

Falcon/Captain America/Sam Wilson-

When you had returned from Iraq, you were so happy to be home. Your family had thrown a small get-together to celebrate your safe return. Everyone was so proud of you for serving your country. Your parents had offered to let you stay with them until you found yourself a job and an apartment. With a good record, and an honorable discharge, it shouldn’t have been hard.

It was two months before you landed a job as a receptionist at the V. A. Center in D.C. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but you made decent money. However, living in D.C. was expensive. Finding a place seemed almost impossible, even with a job. Luckily your parents were extremely understanding.

After about three months at the V. A., you had your job down pretty well. Most of the time you were answering calls from local and nationwide veterans. Most were nice, inquiring about certain medical options and wanting help through the transition back into normal society. Some veterans weren’t as friendly and called to complain about how the government treated them or simply to yell.

You had finished another call and were logging it when someone cleared their throat. You tapped on the board that was in front of you. You listened as the pen scratched across the paper for the visitor. Once you finished your log you glanced up.

A tall, dark, and handsome stranger stood in front of your desk, a half-smile on his face. You smiled back, bringing your full attention to him.

“Welcome to the V. A. Center, how can I help you?” you asked, raising your brow a bit.

“I’m Sam Wilson. I have an interview in about twenty-minutes,” he told you. You nodded, sliding down a bit to the other phone. You picked it up, dialing the three numbers to your boss’ office.

“One moment.” You slid down to your other phone, dialing the three numbers for your boss’ office. “Sir, you have a Sam Wilson here to see you,” you informed him. “Yes sir.” You slid back down to Sam Wilson, a smile on your face. “He’ll be with you shortly. He’s finishing up a meeting.

He nodded, sitting down in one of the chairs. He leant back, arm thrown over the back of the chair as he stared down the hall, resting his ankle on his knee. You tried your best not to stare, but not staring was never a strong suit of yours, and boy did Sam Wilson give you plenty to stare at.

“Which branch did you serve for, Mr. Wilson?” you inquired, pretending to type on the computer as if you hadn’t spent the last five minutes staring at him.

“Just Sam is fine,” he said with a chuckle. “And I served in the army.”

“Army,” he replied. You nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Interesting. So when they did the Men of the Army calendar, was it just twelve months of you?” You watched as your words went through his head before he let out a chuckle. “What? Didn’t like it?” You shot him a wink, a smirk on your face.

“I like it quite a lot, actually… what’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes-

It took years and years of studying and hard work, but becoming the leading psychiatrist in dealing and helping soldiers with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSS), formerly PTSD. You never experienced it personally, but you had neighbors and friends who suffered from it growing up. You wanted to do something helpful in the world, something good, so you dedicated your life to finding ways to work through what others had experienced. Your reputation began to precede you, and that was how you were flown across the world to help one of the worst cases you’d ever seen.

The patient was a Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He served in World War II where he was presumed KIA, Killed In Action. That was until about four years ago when he resurfaced as an assassin for an organization that was almost gone. The more you read, the wilder his story seemed to get. Reading his file, which was quite extensive, covered almost the entire flight to Wakanda.

King T’Challa stood ready to greet you when your plane landed. You bowed your head respectively, taking in the empty fields that surrounded you. He shook your hand firmly, offering you a warm smile.

“Welcome to Wakanda Dr. L/N,” he greeted.

“Thank you for having me, Your Majesty,” you said. “You have beautiful, open lands.”

“You’re much too kind. If you would follow me this way.” He held his hand out and began guiding you across one of the fields. Birds chirped above you as you made your trek over the verdant hills.

Just over the last hill was a single hut. Goats roamed around freely, munching on grass and bleating. King T’Challa gestured to the hut, staring at it solemnly.

“White Wolf lives there. He lives happily in solitude, but human interaction is important. The world says you are the best in your field. Please, help him,” the King said. You nodded your head.

“Nothing is guaranteed,” you reminded him. “My methods aren’t a one-hundred percent success, but I will do my best.”

“That is all we ask.”

You nodded one more time before resuming your walk to the small hut, this time alone. The goats were curious about you, pausing their lunch to stare at you. One particularly small one ran to you, nudging its head against your leg.

“Steve, be nice.”

A new voice caught your attention. His hair was longer and his beard was fuller, but you recognized the man as Sergeant Barnes. He stood in the doorway of the hut, staring down at the tiny goat that was now nibbling at the bottom of your pants. He wore white, traditional, Wakanda clothing. A white bandage covered the stub where his arm once was. He would have seemed peaceful were it not for the dark, solemn gaze in his eyes.

“Sergeant Barnes?” you called, bending down to pick up the goat. He looked up at you. “Sergeant Barnes my name is Dr. Y/N L/N. King T’Challa asked me to help you transition back into civilian society.” He nodded his head slowly. The goat, Steve, nestled into your chest, nibbling your shirt. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Of course,” he said, moving aside so you could enter his hut. Setting the goat down, you stepped inside the small hut. It was bare for the most part, only the necessities were present. You took a seat on a nearby chair, watching him carefully. He took a seat across from you, awkwardly shifting in his seat.

“Sergeant Barnes, I would like to preface this by saying I am here to help you, and if what we do isn’t helping, it’s okay to say that,” you said.

“Bucky.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name… it’s Bucky.” You smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. I’m Y/N.”

Loki Odinson-

Rehabilitation, patience, and forgiveness were some of your core beliefs. You also believed that good was in everyone, no matter what bad deeds they did, no matter how lost they seemed, with the right guidance and a voice of encouragement, you truly believed that anyone could redeem themselves. Because of this firm belief, you started a rehabilitation center in your kingdom which grew into the biggest and most successful rehabilitation center in the world.

Being the princess of a small country was hard, but this success gave your country exactly what it needed--money. Which sounded worse than it actually was. The world runs on money and your people weren’t exactly millionaires, but being paid to rehabilitate both petty and hardened criminals was surprisingly a great way to make money.

So much so that King T’Challa of Wakanda, an old childhood friend of yours, asked a favor from an American acquaintance of his. Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries and Avenger, had been asked by his fellow Avenger, Thor, to seek a place for his trickster brother. You had heard all about New York in the news, but you never expected that to have an effect on your country. You weren’t so sure until Thor offered to pay in pure gold. That, you simply couldn’t refuse.

You stood on the runway, watching as the plane carrying your latest case began to touch down. The wind whipped your hair around your face, but your sunglasses protected your eyes. The wind settled once the plane came to a stop. The door opened and the first to exit was King T’Challa.

“Your Majesty,” you called. He smiled at you as he descended the stairs.

“Your Highness,” he greeted. He jogged over to you, skipping all formalities to give you a heartfelt hug. “It has been too long, old friend.”

“Much too long,” you agreed. A posse of people had followed him. Guards from Wakanda, Tony Stark, Thor, and his brother, Loki.

“Princess Y/N, this is my American acquaintance, Tony Stark.”

“Yes, Stark Industries precedes you.” He bowed to you respectfully.

“Your Highness, this is Thor and his troublesome brother Loki,” Stark said, gesturing to the two giant men beside him. Loki was bound in unique chains and had his face covered so you could only see his eyes.

“Welcome, gentlemen. We are happy to welcome you to our small corner of the world. If you all would follow me,” you said. You looped your arm through T’Challa’s, leading them to the facilities where Loki would be kept. “While your brother is a rather unique guest, we will be treating him like we treat everyone else here. Because of his abilities, he will be placed in a special room designed specifically for him.”

“How do you know it will hold Reindeer Games over here?” Stark asked, sending a pointed look to Loki. You smiled.

“I had a top engineer design it using advanced technologies that could put your entire company to shame,” you said. A smirk pulled at T’Challa’s mouth at the mention of his sister.

“You are very kind for doing this Princess Y/N,” Thor said. “I know with the right guidance, my brother will come back to who he used to be. Loki rolled his eyes at that, opting to look out the window. From the corner of your eye, you could see him staring at your reflection through the glass.

“It’s my pleasure.”

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[make-me-imagine]

Scenario Prompt: Sept 12 Z: Leon asks you to dance at a banquet because he has a crush on you.  Requested By: @haveanotherfandomblog

Pairing: Sir Leon x Gen!Neutral Reader

Everything Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural​

Triggers: None        Words: 643

Post about Scenario Prompt Request: Here

You had felt his eyes on you from the moment you entered the banquet hall, but you assumed it was simply because you entered. But nonetheless, seeing him looking at you made you nervous. Meeting his eyes he smiled softly at you in greeting, which you returned, ignoring the heat rising up your neck. 

Throughout the evening, you kept getting the feeling that he was watching you again, but every time you turned to look, he was looking somewhere else. You couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed at this. You wished you were more confident, you would approach and talk with him, maybe even ask him to dance. You had known each other for years, you were friends, why was it so hard for you to approach him in these kinds of situations? 

Taking a sip of your drink, you wallowed in your disappointment as you listened to your friend talk about her day. Feeling someone tap your shoulder, you jumped slightly before turning to see who it was. You felt your heart leap for a moment when you saw Leon smiling down at you. 

You smiled at him “Leon” you greeted cheerfully. 

“Hello, Y/n, Marianne” he nodded to your friends who greeted him as well. Looking back at you, he seemed to adjust his stance before he looked down at the ground nervously. Clearing his throat he looked back up at you “I was wondering if you might dance with me.” 

Taken slightly by surprise by this, you smiled at him before nodding “Of course Leon, I’d love too.” 

He smiled at you, obviously relieved that you agreed before he reached out his hand. Placing your hand into his he lead you towards the middle of the room. You spared a glance back at your friend who grinned at you, having known of your feeling for Leon. 

As you entered into the crowd of dancing people, you and Leon began to dance along to the music. You smiled at him, to which he smiled bashfully in return. “I was surprised to not have seen you dancing earlier, I thought I saw Gwaine ask you beforehand. I thought you liked to dance?” 

“He did ask, as did some others, but...” you trailed off for a moment. 

“But?” Leon commented. 

“But-” you continued with a smile “I did not want to dance with any of them.” you finished, leaving the implication to linger in the air. 

Leon fought back a smile before he spoke “Well, you saved yourself, Gwaine is not a great dancer.” 

You giggled at his comment before looking across the banquet hall, seeing Gwaine dancing with another woman. He was not as graceful as others, but not horrible. You cocked your head slightly “I’ve seen worse.” 

He chuckled before clearing his throat slightly “Well, I’m sorry I had not asked you earlier, I was...unsure if you would want to dance with me.” 

“Of course I would dance with you Leon.” you replied softly, making him smile “I was wondering if you’d ask.” you added on. 

“Yes. Well... I always found dancing to be quite...intimate.” He said somewhat shyly, briefly meeting your eyes. 

“Yes, me too. Which is why I did not want to dance with anyone else.” 

His eyes quickly shot back to meet yours when you said this, as you smiled, feeling your own heart pound at the words that left your mouth. 

Leon seemed to adjust himself before he pulled you slightly closer as you continued to dance “And I’m glad you danced with no one else.” 

Your eyes met, keeping eye contact and smiling lightly at each other as his hands tightened slightly around yours. As confessions went, his was vague, but having known him for such a long time, you understood fully how he felt now, as you were sure he understood how you felt as well. 

xx End xx

Short but sweet, hope you like it~

#sir leon #leon #merlin #bbc merlin #sir leon x reader #leon x reader #sir leon oneshot #sir leon one shot #oneshot #one shot #scenario game prompt #bbc merlin x reader #bbc merlin oneshot #bbc merlin one shot #bbc merlin x gender neutral reader #sir leon/reader #leon/reader #leon oneshot #leon one shot #fluff #merlin reader insert #gender neutral reader insert #merlin oneshot #merlin one shot #reader insert #sir leon drabble #leon drabble

[haveanotherfandomblog]

The Curse of Imhotep Masterlist

Fandom: The Mummy (1999)

Pairing: Ardeth Bay x Fem!OC

Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, Fluff

Warnings: TBD

Summary: When Margaret Carnahan was inducted into the secret Society that helped the mysterious Medjai, she had no idea what she was in for. She did her best to live a quiet life, keeping her adventures deep in the shadows, until her hapless older brother and clumsy younger sister insist they’ve found Hamunaptra. Now she’s on a quest to do the very thing she fought against, all to protect her loved ones.

Margaret Carnahan

First Encounters

#haveanotherfandomblog post #the curse of imhotep #oc: margaret carnahan #the mummy #the mummy 1999 #the mummy returns #ardeth bay #ardeth bay fic #ardeth bay fics #ardeth bay fanfiction #ardeth bay angst #ardeth bay fluff #the mummy fic #the mummy fics #the mummy fanfiction #ardeth bay x fem!oc #ardeth bay x oc #the mummy oc #ardeth bay oc

[haveanotherfandomblog]

Fate of Destiny

The Dragon’s Call

Pairing: Arthur Pendragon x Fem!Merlin

Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, Fluff, Genderbending!AU

Word Count: 10.4K

Warnings: Mild Language

Masterlist || Next>>

The sun shone across the countryside as she traveled through the endless fields, nothing but the few belongings she was lucky to possess strapped to her back. Her past was behind her, her future laid before her, and as she crossed the final hill, watching as the turrets came into view, she paused to stare at the castle. Huge as it seemed, strong and sturdy as it appeared, it was its striking beauty against the blue sky that gave her pause.

Taking a deep breath, Merlyn continued on. She marched her way to the front gates of the main city. Lively was the only word that Merlyn could use to perfectly describe the lower town of Camelot. Stands full of books and herbs and jewelry lined most of the street. Children ran and laughed through the road, chasing each other as adults went about their chores. Everything drew her attention at once. Eager as she was to explore the town, she had something important to do first.

Further she walked until she came upon the front gates of the castle. Its size from before paled in comparison to standing directly in front of it. The towers seemed to stretch towards the heavens as birds circled around them. Guards, servants, and courtiers mingled about. Taking one final deep breath, Merlyn hoisted the skirt of her green dress and continued on to the main gate.

Loud horns sounded as a crowd began forming in the center of the square. Curious, Merlyn picked up her pace. On a large platform was a man on his knees, tired and ragged. He stared out into the crowd, resigned to his fate as an executioner, dressed in black and his face hidden to protect his identity, stood by with an axe as tall as him.

Up on a balcony stood a man that could only be the king of Camelot. His gilded crown rested upon his head. Powerful and commanding, he gazed down at the poor man. Draped in the color of his kingdom, he turned his attention away from the man and towards the crowd.

“Let this serve as a lesson to all,” he said, his voice booming over the crowd. Everyone fell silent, leaning back slightly from the King’s balcony. “This man,” he continued, pointing down, “Thomas James Collins, is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic. And, pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death.”

Merlyn clutched the strap of her bag with one hand, using the other to fiddle with the hem of her sleeve around her wrist. She bent her head, keeping her eyes on the ground.

“I pride myself as a fair and just king, but for the crime of sorcery, there is but one sentence I can pass.” He nodded his head, and the executioner began moving, pushing Thomas Collins head down on the wooden block.

Merlyn’s breath quickened as she turned her head away from the sight to avoid accidentally looking up. Her eyes traveled up one of the walls to see a girl, close to her age, peeking out one of the windows. Sorrow covered her face as she, too, turned her head away from the horrific and grisly sight. The drums and horns continued playing before a loud gasp overtook the crowd. The deed was done.

“When I came to this land,” Uther continued, “this kingdom was mired in chaos, but with the people's help magic was driven from the realm.” His demeanor shifted to a cheerier one as he looked over the crowd. The executioner was shoving Thomas Collins' body off the platform. Merlyn swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “So I declare a festival to celebrate twenty years since the Great Dragon was captured and Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery. Let the celebrations begin.”

He had yet to fully turn around and the crowd had barely parted before a loud wailing captured everyone’s attention once more. An old and haggard woman cried as she reached towards the dead man. The crowd moved away, giving him a clear view of her.

“There is only one evil in this land, and it is not magic! It is you!” she cried. “With your hatred and your ignorance! You took my son!” Merlyn’s hands flew to her mouth. Her heart beat in sympathy for the poor old woman. To have watched such a cruel fate for someone she loved so dear-- it must have been worse than death itself. “And I promise you, before these celebrations are over, you will share my tears. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son.”

Her words struck a cord deep within Uther Pendragon. His face turned red as his fists clenched at his side and his nostrils flared. He took a menacing step forward, raising a finger at her.

“Seize her!” Try as they might have, it was no use. She clutched something around her neck and chanted a spell. The guards were almost upon her when she disappeared in a whirl of smoke and wind, leaving nothing but her haunting words as proof she was ever even there.

Frazzled and unsettled, the crowd quickly dispersed, muttering to each other. Merlyn looked towards the window, but the girl was gone. She gripped the straps of her bag a little tighter, letting out a shaky breath as she made her way towards a side entrance of the castle. She stopped by two guards, asking for directions to the court physician’s chambers. One pointed the way and she continued on.

She climbed the stone stairs, green skirt balled in her hand as she followed the directional boards pointing her to her desired location. Once she reached the chamber door, she gave a quick knock before giving it a slight push and calling out.

There wasn’t a response so she stepped in further, looking around. Books and papers covered almost every surface imaginable. Herbs and bottles full of colorful liquids sat over fires and in jars littered about.

“Hello? Gaius?” she called. Still, she was met with silence. Stepping further into the room, she found whom she assumed was the man she was looking for above her, searching a bookshelf. He had white hair that brushed his shoulders as he flipped through a particular book. She cleared her throat to gather his attention. He jerked around and lost his balance, breaking the railing behind him and falling backwards.

Panicked, Merlyn watched as time seemed to slow around her. The familiar warmth of her magic spread through her, her eyes turning to a glowing shade of gold as she searched around the room. A bed tucked away in a corner caught her eye, and she willed it to move itself beneath the man as he continued falling in slow motion.

Once the bed was securely under him, the warm feeling left her and time sped up once more. The man fell onto the bed, letting out a loud yell. Merlyn released the breath she’d been holding as the man looked around confused.

“I--What did you just do?” he asked, pulling himself from the bed. Her mouth ran dry as she took a couple steps back. Words failed her as he stared at her expectantly. The court physician, Gaius, was a shorter man with a slightly uneven face. She stared down at him with her mouth gaping. “Tell me!”

“I-- I-- I have no idea what happened,” she stuttered out.

“If anyone had seen that--”

“Er, no! That-- that was, that was nothing to do with me. That-- that was--” Once again, words failed her as she stared hopelessly at him.

“I know what it was! I just want to know where you learned how to do it!” he said. She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders and stuttering out more incoherent responses. “So how is it you know magic?”

“I don't.” She took slow and careful steps backwards.

“Where did you study?” He ignored her responses, waiting to hear what he wanted. “Answer me!”

“I-- I've never studied magic or, or been taught.”

“Are you lying to me, girl?”

“What do you want me to say?” Merlyn cried, exasperated.

“The truth!”

“I was born like this!”

“That's impossible!” Gaius shouted. Merlyn shook her head, looking down at the floor. There was a brief pause between them. “Who are you?” he finally asked. She slipped off her bag, pulling out a letter and handing it to him. “I-- I don’t have my glasses.”

“I’m Merlyn.”

“Hunith’s daughter?” He seemed shocked by her answer. She nodded, scuffing her shoe against the floor. “But you’re not meant to be here till Wednesday.” She scrunched her face slightly, tilting her head.

“It is Wednesday.”

“Ah. Right then.” He nodded his head. “You better put your bag in there.” He pointed to the door behind him. She nodded her head, holding her bag close as she stepped past him. She paused at the door, turning to look at him.

“You-- you won't say anything about, erm…” She nodded her head towards the bed and the debris from his fall.

“No.” He followed her gaze before looking back. “Although Merlyn, I should say, ‘thank you.’” He gave her a small smile. She bowed her head before continuing into her new room.

She closed the door behind her, letting her bag drop to the floor. She rested her forehead against the door, letting out a sigh. Night had almost completely fallen when she took a peek out the window. The flames from candles illuminated the windows of the lower town and she let out a small gasp. The city looked magical from this angle. Looking back at her new room, she found it to be luxurious compared to her room at home.

Home. She missed it already, especially her mother. She hadn’t wanted to leave, but her mother insisted, saying Camelot would provide her with better opportunities and would be a safer place for her. Maybe her mother was right, but after what happened in the square, she questioned her mother’s jugement. She was at a greater risk here than she was back home. At least in Ealdor, they weren’t under Uther’s reign.

She let out a yawn, the toll of her journey finally catching up to her. She pushed herself from the window, slipping into her nightgown and turning in for an early night.

Outside of her room, Gaius sat by his own bed, his glasses hanging on the tip of his nose. Hunith’s letter in his hand.

My dear Gaius,

I turn to you for I feel lost and alone and don't know who to trust. It is every mother's fate to think her child is special, and yet I would give my life that Merlyn were not so. Ours is a small village and she is so clearly at odds with people here that, if she were to remain, I fear what would become of her. She needs a hand to hold, a voice to guide, someone that might help her find a purpose for her gifts. I beg you, if you understand a mother's love for her daughter, keep her safe, and may God save you both.

Love,

Hunith

Gaius set the letter down and removed his glasses. He turned his head towards Merlyn’s room. So much potential for a pupil untaught. So much trouble for a girl so young. So many burdens on a child. He folded the letter back up, pondering his future, along with Merlyn’s.

***

In another part of the castle, the Lady Morgana, the girl whom Merlyn had seen, stared out another window. The execution block was still the main square. Hard as they tried to clean it, she could still make out the blood stains in the grooves of the wood. The ax falling and the woman’s screams echoed in her mind as someone called out to her.

Uther Pendragon, her guardian, was walking towards her. His cape billowed behind him as he approached her. He seemed troubled and greatly disappointed. She said nothing and turned her head back towards the window.

“What is this? Why are you not joining us at the feast?” he inquired. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and sneer as they came face to face.

“I just don’t think chopping off someone’s head is cause for celebration,” she spat. She turned to look back out the window, her face softening. “That poor mother.”

“It was simple justice for what he’d done,” he said, dismissing her words. She turned to look back at him, her brows furrowed.

“To whom? He practiced some magic, he didn't hurt anyone.”

“You were not around twenty years ago, you have no idea what it was like,” Uther told her. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“How long are you going to keep punishing people for what happened then?”

“Until they realize there is no room for magic in my kingdom! You will be with me when I greet Lady Helen.” He turned away from her, heading back towards the feast as courtiers cheered and laughed with one another.

“I told you! I want no part in these celebrations!” she called after him. She wished he didn’t dismiss her so readily. He whirled back around, moving to look down upon her. She took a half step back, her hand coming into contact with the wall.

“I am your guardian!” he shouted. He looked back to the celebration before lowering his voice. “I expect you to do as I ask. If you show me no respect, at least respect our finest singer.” He said nothing more to her before marching away.

“You know, the more brutal you are, the more enemies you will create!” she called after him, watching as he disappeared back into the pantry. She let out a scoff, turning to look back out to the main square. Justice indeed.

***

A voice calling to her woke Merlyn up the next morning. She could have sworn there was somebody in the room. The voice had been floating around in her head. Yet as she looked around, she found nobody. She sat up slowly, stretching her arms above her head as sunlight filtered through the window. She let out a deep sigh as she slid out of the bed.

She rummaged through her bag until she found her mauve dress. It had an over skirt that was a slightly darker shade of the mauve with vertical stripes. She carefully laced her corset before securing it to fit her snug. She pinned the front few locks of her hair back away from her face.

She opened her bedroom door to where Gaius was up and about, standing over a pot of what she hoped was breakfast. She hadn’t eaten anything since her journey yesterday and she was positive her stomach was beginning to collapse on itself.

“I got you water. You didn’t wash last night,” Gaius said, motioning to the bucket teetering dangerously close to the edge of the table. She mumbled her apologies, nudging the bucket away from the edge. “Help yourself to some breakfast.” He placed a bowl of porridge in front of her and she wasted no time diving in.

The porridge was simultaneously watery and unnecessarily thick, but she knew beggars couldn’t be choosers. She’d barely made a dent in the bowl, however, before he had intentionally knocked over the bucket of water.

She jumped to feet without a thought, reaching for the bucket as the same warmth from yesterday began flowing through her. Her eyes took on their golden hue, and the bucket stopped mid-air. He let out a gasp and turned to gawk at her. As quick as it came, the warm feeling left her and the bucket fell to the ground, spilling the water everywhere. She jumped back, switching between gawking at him and the water as he continuously gasped.

“How did you do that? Did you incant a spell in your mind?” he asked.

“I don’t know any spells.” She looked around for something to clean the water up with, taking a couple steps back.

“So what did you do? There must be something.” His eyes practically begged her for an answer she couldn’t give. She turned her head away, moving to grab a nearby mop.

“It just happens.” She began soaking up the water, keeping her head bent as he moved around her.

“Well, we better keep you out of trouble. You can help me until I find some paid work for you. Here.” He placed a small sack and a vile full of bright, yellow liquid on the table. “Hollyhock and Feverfew for Lady Percival, and this is for Sir Olwin. He's as blind as a weevil, so warn him not to take it all at once.”

“Okay.” She nodded her head, mopping up the rest of the water.

“And here.” He handed her a plate with a sandwich on it. She offered him a smile, trading the mop for the plate. He returned her smile with a small one, jerking his head towards the door. “Off you go.” She was almost to the door when he called out for her once more. “And Merlyn, I need hardly tell you that the practice of any form of enchantments will get you killed.” She nodded her head before leaving to complete her first tasks.

With only two tasks for the day, Merlyn saw no harm in taking her time to complete them. After all, it was her first time in Camelot, let alone the castle. Who could blame her for taking longer than usual?

She shoved her food into her mouth as she made her way into the square. The execution block was gone and servants and courtiers alike mingled about in the main square, the unpleasantness of yesterday far from their minds.

Her search for Sir Olwin was a short one thanks to the helpful and slightly flirtatious guards. His family crest, which depicted an eagle on a yellow background, hung just outside his door. She gave the door a quick rap.

An old man, presumably Sir Olwin, answered the door. He was bald at the top of his head, and she wondered briefly if it hurt for him to squint so hard to see. Nonetheless, she gave him a big smile.

“I brought you your medicine,” she told him, holding the vile out for him. He stuck his hand out, a gummy smile on his face. She brought her mouth into a thin line, grabbing his wrist and placing the vile in his hand. He popped the cork off and immediately went to do the very thing Gaius did not want him to do. She placed her hand over the top, stopping him from chugging it. “Gaius said not to take it all at once.”

He nodded his head and only took a small sip. She let out a satisfied smile before wandering off to enjoy the rest of her day.

She decided to venture outside the castle, to see what else the castle had to offer. Servants mingled about as she crossed a drawbridge that led to an open field where several strapping young men were standing.

Merlyn noticed a particular group staring at a servant boy, elbowing each other and laughing as they stared at the boy. A blonde male stepped to the front, looking down at the boy.

She took notice to one particular group staring at a serving boy, elbowing each other and laughing as one of their friends talked to him. His blonde hair looked like the sun and his jaw was square and firm. Not even the metal plating could hide the tense muscles of his arms. Yes, Merlyn found him quite attractive. Objectively speaking.

“Where’s the target?” All attractive features left her mind as the most pompous tone of voice, she’d ever heard mind you, had left the man’s mouth. His friends laughed as if he’d said the funniest thing in the world. She slowed her pace, listening and watching carefully.

“There, Sir?” the boy said. She couldn’t see much of him, seeing as his back was turned to her, but she could see his shaggy brown hair and that he was holding a rather large shield piled with knightly things.

“It's into the sun.” The blonde gestured to it, looking at him expectantly. His friends were still laughing.

“But, it's not that bright.” The boy looked up to the sky.

“A bit like you, then?” the man said. He and his friends, looking to one another with obnoxious smirks. Merlyn rolled her eyes. It appeared it didn’t matter where you lived, there was one universal fact of the world, boys had no sense of humor.

“I’ll put the target on the other end, shall I, Sir?” There was a clear sound of annoyance in his voice that let her know this was not the first time he’d been through something like this. She gave kudos to him for sticking it out.

The blonde went back to his friends as the servant went to move the target towards the wall, making sure it wasn’t facing the sun. His friends were nudging him and muttering things she couldn’t quite hear. As they continued to laugh and point, she narrowed her eyes.

“Hey! Hang on!”

The blonde had thrown a dagger into the target, hitting it almost center. He opened his arms, looking at the servant expectantly. “Don't stop!” the man said, laughing.

“Here?” he asked. The boy took a few more steps.

“I told you to keep moving!” He threw another dagger. The servant barely had time to lift it up before the dagger landed in the center perfectly. He let the target fall so he could see where it had landed, terror on his face. “Come on! Run!” The boy began shuffling his feet, running back and forth and hoping the blonde didn’t feel like “accidentally” missing. The blonde, and his friends, were amused, laughing as the poor boy tried, and failed, to carry the large target. “We want moving target practice!”

To his credit, the blonde had very good aim, but that was still no way to treat someone, and Merlyn felt her blood boiling over watching such blatant disrespect. Eventually the servant tripped over his feet, the target rolling from his grasp and landing at her feet.

When it came to a stop at her feet, she lifted her skirt from the ground, placing her foot on it as the boy almost crawled to get it. He looked up at her in awe and shock. She offered him a small smile, offering her hand to help him up. He took it graciously, mouth still hanging open as he stepped away from her.

I think that’s quite enough,” she said, stepping off the target.

“What?” The man’s tone was sharp as he turned to look at her, equally as shocked to see a girl standing there with his servant.

“I think you’ve had your fun, my friend.” She tried to keep her voice light and airy, not trying to cause too big of waves on her first day. But to hell if she was going to let someone be treated like dirt for sport.

“Do I know you?” he asked, approaching her and leaving his friends to stand back.

“I'm Merlyn,” she said, offering her hand.

“So I don't know you.” He turned his face away, looking off towards the distance.

“No.” She let her hand drop.

“Yet you called me ‘friend’.” The man didn’t let her say more before he was talking over her, looking down his nose and staring into the bright blue eyes of this random girl he knew he’d never seen before.

“That was my mistake.” She gave a soft and resigned sigh.

“Yes, I think so.” And there he went with his obnoxious, self-absorbed tone.

She would have been perfectly content on biting her tongue and excusing herself. She would have let his snobbery at her and his disregard for his servants go had he just let her finish speaking. But in that moment, she just wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

“Yeah. I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass.” The man was certainly shocked to hear such language from a girl. She found herself satisfied enough to leave him speechless and began walking away. He did not share those sentiments.

“Or I one who could be so stupid.” he called after her. She stopped in her tracks, biting her tongue. “Tell me, Mer-lyn, do you know how to walk on your knees?” He approached her as she turned her head over her shoulder, an unreadable expression on her face.

“No.”

“Would you like me to help you?” There was a devilish look behind his boyish smile, and it made her skin crawl.

“I wouldn't if I were you,” she warned. She turned back around to fully face him as he made his way towards her.

“Why? What are you going to do to me?”

“You have no idea.”

The man laughed, genuinely laughed, in her face. She’d met her fair share of men who thought themselves above everyone, women especially, but there was something about this particular prat that set her anger ablaze.

“Be my guest!” he taunted. He opened his arms, taking a step back. He was looking around, and that was when she noticed the other servants had stopped their chores to watch their exchange. “Come on! Come on! Come oooooon.” He leant forward slightly, giving her a stupid wide-eyed grin.

His taunts made something inside her snap, and against her better judgement, she took a swing. He easily dodged it, grabbing her wrist and twirling her around before he pulled her flush against his chest, holding her hand above their heads. She let out a huff, glaring into those stupid clear blue eyes, thinking he was so great because he missed a punch from a girl.

“I could have you thrown in jail for that.”

“What, who do you think you are? The King?” She let out a scoff, rolling her eyes. She struggled against his grip, using her free hand to try and push him away. He grabbed her other wrist and spun her around with ease, locking her arms behind her. He bent his head down, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear.

“No. I'm his son, Arthur.” He nodded towards two guards who came and grabbed her, dragging her from him. He watched as she went with them peacefully, noting them being a lot gentler than they normally would. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about the daring stranger, but he found no reason to dwell on someone so insignificant to him.

The guards led Merlyn down to the dungeons. They led her inside a cell and locked her in. She sank to the floor, sitting on the hay as the guards left her alone with nothing more than the distant light from the torches. She let out a deep sigh, resting her head in her hand. Gaius was going to be furious with her.

She brought her knees to her chin. It wasn’t too cold in the dungeon, but she knew she’d miss her room and bed come nightfall. Of course the first person she fought with was the prince of Camelot. She let out another deep sigh. She was in for a long night.

***

In the throne room, Lady Morgana stood patiently as she, Uther, and some other courtiers waited for the arrival of Lady Helen. Her maid, a young and beautiful girl named Guinevere, quickly made her way to her side. Her brown curls sat in a knot behind her head, and there was a playful glint in her eyes as she leant forward slightly.

“My Lady, I have something to tell you,” she whispered. Morgana turned her head slightly, eager to hear what she had to say. Gwen relayd what she had witnessed earlier that day: the fight between Arthur and the beautiful stranger with dark hair and pale skin. Morgana did her best to keep her face neutral, but she couldn’t prevent the quirk of her mouth or how her face brightened.

She hadn’t a chance for a clever response before the doors were opened and a beautiful woman in a purple gown came through, her heels echoing throughout the room with each step against the floor. She gave Uther a coy smile.

“Lady Helen. Thank you so much for coming to sing at our celebrations,” he said. He stood from his chair, stepping down from his dais to greet her.

“The pleasure's all mine,” she told him. She gave him a brief curtsey.

“How was your journey?”

“Oh, the time it took, Sire.”

“Well, it's always worth the wait,” he assured her. He pressed the back of both her hands to mouth, and Morgana resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the action.

“It will be.” Lady Helen reached down to take her necklace in her hand. She gave him a polite, albeit slightly strained, smile.

***

A deep voice calling to Merlyn pulled her from her slumber. She propped herself up, saddened that she found herself in a cell instead of her room. The voice called to her again-- louder. She scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping over her skirt. She backed away from her makeshift bed. The voice continued to call to her-- beckoning her back to it. Slowly she crouched down, pressing her ear towards the floor.

“Merlyn!”

She sat back on her heels, turning to face the cell door. One of the guards opened the door as a livid Gaius stepped in. She stood quickly, collapsing her hands in front of her. She bent her head as he let out a sigh.

“You never cease to amaze me!” he yelled. “The one thing that someone like you should do is keep your head down, and what do you do? You behave like an idiot.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You're lucky. I managed to pull a few strings to get you released.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” She gave him a big grin, running to give him a big hug. He patted her back, then pulled away to give her a pointed look. She straightened herself out, but didn’t stop grinning. “I won't forget this.”

“You better not.” He jerked his head towards the door. “Now go clean up.”

Merlyn took her time washing, making sure to clean away the dirt from her hair. The sun was filtering through her room as she sank down into the basin. The voice echoed in the back of her mind. In a passing thought, she’d thought maybe it was a memory of her father, but she dismissed the thought. Her father had never been in life.

She shook the thoughts from her head, pulling herself out of the bath. She pulled on her peach pink dress with the ruffled bodice and grabbed her beige shawl, wrapping it tight around her arms. While not freezing, the warm weather was making a swift exit for the end of fall.

She decided to explore the lower town since that prat Prince Arthur ruined her plans yesterday. Gaius went with her, showing her his route and letting her explore as he talked with his patients. As they were walking, a young girl around Merlyn’s age stopped her. She wore a faded red dress with a red cloak tied securely around her. Gaius continued on without her.

“I'm Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen,” she said. “I'm the Lady Morgana's maid.”

“Right. I'm Merlyn.” The two of them shook hands. Merlyn stood there awkwardly, running her hands down the length of her skirt.

“I saw what you did yesterday. It was so brave,” Gwen said.

“It was stupid,” she mumbled. She looked back towards the castle, giving an empty laugh.

“Well, I'm glad you walked away,” Gwen said. “You weren't going to beat him.”

“Oh, I-- I can beat him.” Merlyn let out a snort, nodding her defiantly.

“You think?” Gwen said, scrunching up her nose. “You are a girl.”

“Thanks?”

“No! No, I'm sure you're stronger than you look,” Gwen assured Merlyn. “It's just, erm…” She glanced down at her hands, fiddling with the sleeve. “Arthur's one of these real rough, tough, save the world kind of men, and... well…”

“What?”

“You don't look like that.” She gestured to Merlyn’s dress, and the latter gave a resigned nod. She laughed, bending forward. “Well, it's great you stood up to him.”

“You think so?” Merlyn grinned bashfully.

“Arthur's a bully, and everyone thought you were a real hero.”Gwen nodded, looking at the castle. She gestured towards the people who were looking at Merlyn and whispering excitedly.

“Oh, yeah?”

***

Later in the evening, Merlyn and Gaius sat down for a nice dinner together. Merlyn had had a fairly calm and uneventful day, and after spending some time with Gwen around the castle, she felt she’d actually made a friend.

“Do you want some vegetables with that?” The question was innocent enough, but his tone was sharp. She didn’t need magic to know what was going on inside his head. She laughed slightly, looking up at him from her seat.

“I know you’re still angry with me,” she said.

“Your mother asked me to look after you,” he said. She nodded her head, looking down at her stew. “What did your mother say to you about your gifts?”

“That I was special.” She shrugged, pulling lips into a thin line.

“You are special,” he agreed. “The likes of which I have never seen before.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, setting down her spoon.

“Well,” he tilted his head slightly, searching for the right words to say, “magic requires incantations, spells. It takes years to study. What I saw you do was... elemental, instinctive.”

“What's the point if it can't be used?” She rolled her eyes, looking back down at her food.

“That I do not know. You are a question that has never been posed before, Merlyn.”

She sat there for a moment, then looked up with narrowed eyes. “Did you ever study magic?” she asked. He paused, seemingly unsure how to answer, which gave her his answer.

“Uther banned all such work twenty years ago,” he finally said.

“Why?” She frowned slightly, causing him to let out a sigh.

“People used magic for the wrong end at that time. It threw the natural order into chaos. Uther made it his mission to destroy everything from back then, even the dragons.” Her eyes grew wide. She had heard of them, sure, but she never thought that they’d actually been real. At least now she knew why she’d only ever heard of them.

“What? All of them?”

“There was one dragon he chose not to kill-- kept it as an example. He imprisoned it in a cave deep beneath the castle where no one can free it,” he said. Something clicked inside Merlyn’s brain. She thought back to that morning, the voice she’d heard. The one she could have sworn was coming from deep beneath the dungeons.

“Now, eat up,” Gaius said, pulling her from her thoughts. “When you've finished, I need you to take a preparation to Lady Helen. She needs it for her voice.” She nodded, diving into her food.

Once she finished her lunch, she made her way through the winding stairs and endless halls of the castle. How anyone managed to remember where anything was astounded her. She lost her way several times, but she eventually found her way up a set of spiral stairs and across a balcony corridor to where Lady Helen was supposed to be staying.

She gave a rapid knock before letting herself in. The room was empty of people, but the amount of stuff had her jaw on the floor. Expensive and lavish drapes hung all over the room, detailed furniture pressed against the walls, a bed that Merlyn knew would be the most comfortable thing she’d ever lay on. The room was fit for a queen.

She set the bottle on the vanity table and was about to turn to leave, when she noticed a straw doll on the table. She picked the doll up, brows furrowing as she turned it this way and that. A strange thing for a lady to own. Even the girls in her home had dolls made of at least cloth.

She placed the doll back when she noticed a strange book tucked under a piece of cloth. She peeled the cloth back, tossed a quick glance over her shoulder, and picked the book up. The cover was detailed and ornate, but was tied shut by a piece of twine. She turned the book over in her hands, finding the same detailing on the back. Along the spine was what she assumed were inscriptions in a language she wasn’t familiar with.

A door opening started her. She quickly set the book back where it was, covering it and the doll with the cloth. She turned around just as a woman with long dark hair and fair skin stepped into the room. Her bright purple dress seemed to be made of the smoothest silk and it distracted Merlyn from the suspicious look on the woman’s face

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, looking around the room.

“An... I- I was asked to deliver this,” Merlyn stuttered out. She turned to pick up the bottle, missing the frightened look of the woman. She handed it to the woman and offered a small smile. The woman returned it with a strained one, and Merlyn made a swift exit.

She glanced back over her shoulder once she left the room, unsure what she was expecting to see. Something funny sat in the pit of her stomach as she hurried away, swarmed with her worries she couldn’t quite identify.

Too frazzled with her encounter with Lady Helen to deal with Gaius’ pestering, she went for a walk to calm her nerves. She kept her focus on the ground, barely making sure she didn’t run into anyone as she let herself be lost in thoughts.

She was so lost, she didn’t notice Arthur approaching from the other way, nor did she notice when his fellow knights pointed her out.

Arthur watched as she walked on the opposite side of the street, her brows furrowed with intense concentration, and he briefly wondered what could have her so focused. His friends jabbed him and poked him, urging him to do something. Never one to back down, he relented.

“How’s your knee-walking coming along?” His voice was enough to pull Merlyn from her thoughts, but not enough to stop her. She chose to continue walking, pretending she hadn’t heard him and praying he’d leave her alone. “Aw, don’t run away!” he called. That, did stop her.

“From you?” She kept her back to him, her temper running dangerously thin.

“Thank God.” He sighed. “I thought you were deaf as well as dumb.” She scoffed, running her tongue across her bottom lip.

“Look, I've told you you're an ass,” she said, turning around to face the smug bastard. “I just didn't realize you were a royal one.” His friends took a step towards her and she pursed her lips. “Oh, what are you going to do? Get your daddy's men to protect you?”

Arthur laughed, causing his friends to laugh, albeit unsurely, behind him. He’d never admit her jab was genuinely funny, but he could play it off.

“I could take you apart with one blow,” he said, still smiling. His knight friends relaxed slightly, elbowing each other.

“I could take you apart with less than that,” she challenged. She was bluffing. He knew she was bluffing. And she knew he knew she was bluffing, but that wasn’t going to deter her or him. A small crowd had gathered around them once again, eager to see what would unfold.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I warn you, I've been trained to kill since birth.”

“Wow, and how long have you been training to be a prat?” she inquired, feigning amazement. She even placed her hand over her chest to add effect.

“You can't address me like that.” He let out a snort, not as thrilled that his knights found that retort funny.

“I'm sorry. H-How long have you been training to be a prat, My Lord?” she asked again, giving another exaggerated expression, adding a little curtsy to the mix. “Pro-tip: bullying doesn’t earn you respect, just pity.” She turned around and walked away, pulling her shawl tight around her.

Arthur watched as she walked away, a perturbed grin on his face. He ran his tongue under his top teeth, opening his mouth to say something, when he felt a breeze where there shouldn’t have been one.

Loud gasps and laughter gave her pause. Her back still to him as a smile took over her face. She continued on, unbeknownst to her in that moment, Gaius had seen her little trick.

She had barely made it two steps into the Physician’s chambers when his voice boomed. “How could you be so foolish?!” She knew exactly what he was talking about and knew it would be fruitless to try and deny anything.

“He needed to be taught a lesson,” she said, pushing past him.

“Magic must be studied, mastered, and used for good! Not for idiotic pranks!” he yelled.

“What is there to master? I could move objects like that before I could talk!” She whirled around, angry tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

“Then, by now, you should know how to control yourself!”

“I don't want to!” she screamed, the tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. “If I can't use magic, what have I got?!” She quieted her voice, tears still falling down her face. “I'm just a nobody, and I always will be. If I can't use magic, I might as well die.” The harsh secret had been spoken, and nothing said in the moment could change her feelings. She turned on her heel and ran into her room.

She slammed the door behind her and collapsed onto her bed. She curled into herself, letting the tears fall down her face as the weight of the past few days finally took their toll on the young girl. Barely sixteen, and yet the weight of the world deemed it vital to thrust itself upon her shoulders. She missed her home and she missed her mom. She wished deep down, with all her heart and all her might, that she didn’t have magic.

***

It was some time later when he entered Merlyn’s chambers. “Merlyn?” His voice was softer than it had been earlier.

She wasn’t sleeping, but she had long since run out of tears to cry. She laid staring at the flickering flame next to her bed, so deep in thought there was nothing left to think of.

“Sit up.” He sat next to her as she did so, handing her a cup of tea. He waited quietly as she took a few sips.

“You don't know why I was born like this, do you?” she asked softly, her voice slightly hoarse. She stared down into her cup, staring at her reflection in deep thought.

“No.”

“I'm not a monster, am I?” She tried to put on a smile, but he was having none of it. He reached over, gently taking her chin and forcing her to look him in the eye. His face was softer and his expression was almost sad as he stared into the eyes of a lost, young girl, so far from home.

“Don't ever think that,” he told her.

“Then why am I like this? Please, I need to know why,” she said.

“Maybe there's someone with more knowledge than me.”

“If you can't tell me, no one can.” She let out a sigh, turning back to look into her cup.

“Drink up,” he encouraged. “You’ll feel better.” He stared at her for a long time before giving her knee a gentle pat.

Late that night, after Gaius had fallen asleep and the moon had risen high in the sky, Merlyn found herself awake, staring into the darkness of her room. Despite the exhaustion from her cry earlier, sleep did not come easy for her. She found herself thinking of everything and nothing all at once.

Then from the depths of her mind, the voice that had been haunting her the past two nights once again called to her. She sat up in her bed, listening as the voice seemed to swarm around her and bounce around in her head. Having had enough, she flung the covers off of herself. She slipped on her shoes and pulled her black shawl tight around her. Her white nightgown would do nothing to protect her against the harsh wind.

She snuck out of her chambers, Gaius snoring filling her ears as she tiptoed through the chambers. He turned over in his sleep, startling her slightly. Quiet as a mouse, she lifted the covers and tucked him into bed, then made her exit.

She crossed the square and an eerie feeling fell over her. It was so quiet for a place she knew could be as loud and boisterous as the lower town. She hugged her shawl tighter around her, determined to make it to the dungeons-- where the voice had been the loudest.

She paused at the top of the stairs, peering over to see a couple of guards playing a dice game. She waited until one guard tossed the dice, then with gold eyes and warmth inside her, she jerked the dice off the table. She willed them away further and further, the guards chasing after them, and quickly grabbed a torch.

Behind where the guards had been sitting was a large tunnel with stairs that led down to a dark abyss. Louder and louder the voice grew, beckoning her down to where not even the rats dared to venture. The further she went, the colder it became and the scarier her surroundings grew. Carved stones laid in broken piles as she carefully stepped around them, her hand quivering slightly.

A chilling laugh echoed as she came to the ledge of the tunnel. She peered over the edge, stretching her torch as far as she could without dropping it. Yet all she could see was the damp, cold cave that stretched forever up and forever down. There was nothing around to indicate where the voice was coming from.

“Where are you?” she called.

Loud flapping and a low growl filled the cave. She peered over the ledge, watching a magnificent and horrifying creature-- a dragon-- burst from below, sending her stumbling backwards. He hand flew to her mouth as the beast, with scales as gold as its beady eyes, landed on the perch across from her. Her eyes were wide as she stared.

“I'm here!” it said. Gaius had been right. Uther really had trapped a dragon beneath the castle. How he managed to do so, she didn’t dare to venture. “How small you are for such a great destiny.” She furrowed her brows.

“Why? What do you mean? What destiny?” She furrowed her brows, taking cautious steps forward. She couldn’t bring herself to blink as the dragon stared down from a great height.

“Your gift, Merlyn, was given to you for a reason,” the Great Dragon said. He readjusted himself, relaxing as best he could on the jagged rock. Merlyn stood up straight, moving closer to fully take in the dragon, and what it had to say.

“So there is a reason,” she said. A small smile took over her face as she inched closer, eager for an explanation.

He gave a brief chuckle at her eagerness. “Arthur is the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion.”

“Right.” She raised a brow.

“But he faces many threats from friend and foe alike.”

“I don't see what this has to do with me.”

“Everything,” the dragon said. “Without you, Arthur will never succeed. Without you, there will be no Albion.”

“No. No, you've got this wrong.” Merlyn shook her head, drawing her mouth into a thin line.

“There is no right or wrong, only what is and what isn't.”

“But I'm serious! If anyone wants to go and kill him, they can go ahead. In fact, I'll give them a hand,” she said.

The Great Dragon laughed, looking down at her with keen interest. “None of us can choose our destiny, Merlyn, and none of us can escape it.”

“No. No way. No. No. There must be another Arthur because this one's an idiot,” she argued.

“Perhaps it's your destiny to change that,” he said. He braced himself against the rock before launching himself in the air, disappearing from view once more.

“Wait! Wait! Wait, stop! No, I- I need to know more!” she called. She made her way to the edge, looking after him. Whether the Great Dragon heard her or not, he did not come back, and while she was happy her magic was hers for a reason, that reason was the last thing she wanted.

The next morning, after a fitful sleep filled with dreams of spoiled princes and mighty dragons, Merlyn was awoken by Gaius yelling. She startled awake, her hair an unseemly mess as a blurry vision of Gaius stood before her.

“Oi! Have you seen the state of this room?!” he said.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, looking around the room. Shoes and gowns and papers had been tossed around from her pacing in the late hours, thinking about what the Great Dragon had told her. Of course, she couldn’t tell him this, not without receiving a lecture for it.

“It just happens,” she suggested with a shrug.

“By magic?” She gave another shrug, letting out a yawn. “Yes. Well, you can clear it up without magic. And then I want you to get me some herbs: henbane, wormwood, and sorrel. And deliver this to Morgana. Poor girl's suffering from nightmares.” He placed a pouch at the foot of her bed, turning to leave. As she reached for the pouch, he threw one of her gowns at her before stepping out of the room.

“Mmm, I know the feeling,” she mumbled, falling back in her bed.

She pulled on her red lace gown with bell sleeves and pinned the upper strands of her hair away from her face. Once she had some breakfast, she made her way towards the Griffin Landing where the Lady Morgana’s chambers were. She was slowly becoming familiar with the castle, and she was glad for it.

The door was ajar and she stepped through, surprised to see the girl from the window of her first day in Camelot was Lady Morgana. She stood in front of a mirror, fixing her hair. Merlyn cleared her throat, capturing her attention. Lady Morgana frowned.

“You’re not Gwen,” she said.

“I’m, uh, I’m a friend of Gwen’s. I’ve come to bring this to you, from Gaius.” She handed the bottle to Lady Morgana. Morgana gave her a gracious smile, setting the bottle on a nearby table. “I’m Merlyn.”

“Gwen told me about you and your little encounter with Arthur.” Lady Morgana pulled her head back slightly, a face breaking out into a grin. Merlyn pulled her mouth into a thin line, looking down at the floor with tinted cheeks. “Not that I blame you,” she continued. “I wouldn’t touch him with a lance pole.”

Merlyn let out a snort. She found she liked Lady Morgana, even if they’d only known each other a mere three minutes.

“I mean, the man's a total jester. And just because I'm the King's ward, that doesn't mean I have to accompany him to the feast, does it?” She gave Merlyn a pointed stare to which the latter merely shook her head. “If he wants me to go, then he should invite me, and he hasn't.”

“You could always go by yourself,” Merlyn suggested.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” she laughed.

“Merlyn.” Merlyn and Lady Morgana turned to see Gwen entering. “I see you’ve met the Lady Morgana.” Merlyn nodded.

“While it’s been a pleasure my lady, I’m afraid I have other errands to run for Gaius. Good luck with the feast and Arthur though.” Merlyn gave her a quick curtsy before scurrying out the door. She had heard enough about Arthur for a lifetime. She wouldn’t mind if she never saw his face again.

Lady Morgana turned to Gwen, a coy smile on her face. She held up two gowns nearby, looking at both of them. She placed a dark blue one up to her, staring thoughtfully into the mirror.

“So, Gwen, it's whether I wear this little tease…” She placed a maroon gown up to her, giving herself a little twirl before looking over to Gwen. “Or give them a night they'll really remember.”

Gwen gave her a little laugh, folding her hands together as she began helping her get ready for the feast.

Later that night, the members of the court had gathered in the Banquet Hall for the final feast of the celebrations. Merlyn hadn’t done much with herself in preparation for the feast. Afterall, she wasn’t a guest. Besides that, she’d been running errands for Gaius nonstop all day-- a ploy by him to keep her out of trouble.

The Banquet Hall was beautiful with all the candles and tapestries and gilded plates and cutlery. Uther had taken the banishment of magic as a serious celebration, and the decorations did a fantastic job of showing it.

Across the way, she heard her name mentioned. She turned her head and found Arthur standing with his group of friends, laughing as he, incorrectly, recounted their run-ins. She rolled her eyes glaring in his direction. He turned slightly and took pause, his mouth falling open slightly and his story dying off, along with his friends’ laughter.

“God have mercy.”

She turned and followed his gaze towards Lady Morgana who, to both their credits, looked absolutely stunning. Her maroon dress exposed her shoulders and arms, and with her hair pinned away from her face and off her neck, she was every bit alluring as noble ladies were meant to be, and Merlyn couldn’t blame his attraction. Though he could stand to be more subtle.

“Merlyn. Remember, you're here to work,” Gaius reminded her. She nodded. Gaius wandered away as Arthur abandoned his friends to chase after Lady Morgana. She watched in disdain as he attempted to garner her attention, but Morgana shot her a coy smile before turning her attention back to Arthur.

“She looks great, doesn't she?” Gwen sidled up next to her, proud of the work she’d put into Morgana’s appearance. Much like Merlyn, she hadn’t put much effort into herself. “Some people are just born to be queen.”

“No!” She hadn’t meant to say that so loud, but the thought of that sweet girl, or any girl for that matter, being saddled with him sounded worse than any prophecy about keeping him alive.

“I hope so. One day.” Both girls turned to look back at them, Merlyn with a disgruntled look and Gwen with a smile. “Not that I'd want to be her. Who'd want to marry Arthur?” Gwen scrunched her face at the thought.

“Oh, come on, Gwen.” Merlyn gave a chuckle. “I thought you liked those real rough, tough, save the world kind of men,” she said.

“No, I like much more ordinary men.” Gwen laughed, shaking her head. Merlyn nodded, not buying her words for one second. The pair continued to watch Arthur and Morgana before Merlyn shook her head.

“Poor Morgana.”

The celebratory horns blared, and everyone went to find their seats. Merlyn pressed herself against a wall, watching with great amusement as Morgana quickly left Arthur to take her seat. Everyone bowed as Uther made his entrance, his gold circlet resting around his head. He turned to face the courtiers, a genuine smile on his face.

“We have enjoyed twenty years of peace and prosperity,” he said. “It has brought the kingdom and myself many pleasures, but few can compare with the honor of introducing Lady Helen of Mora.”

Everyone applauded as the woman she’d met the day before stepped onto the mini platform. Once Uther was seated everyone else followed suit. A lovely song began playing and Lady Helen began singing in a language she didn’t understand. Nonetheless, her voice was beautiful and she felt her heart steady as she sang.

As Lady Helen slowly made her way off the stage and towards Uther, Merlyn began noticing that everyone was nodding off. Morris beside her stumbled into the wall before sliding down. The courtiers, Gaius included, were resting their heads on tables and slumping back into their seats.

She quickly placed her hands over her ears, lest she too fall victim to Lady Helen’s spell. As she continued to sing, cobwebs began forming over the sleeping people and the candles blew out, leaving them in a cold darkness. As her song reached its crescendo, Merlyn realized she wasn’t staring at Uther, rather, at Arthur.

Panic struck Merlyn as Lady Helen pulled a dagger from her sleeve, raising it above her head. Merlyn followed the dagger up and saw the chandelier hanging above her. There was only one she wanted then.

The chang holding the chandelier snapped, and it came crashing to the ground, knocking her to the floor and ending her song spell.

Merlyn let her hands fall from her ears as the courtiers slowly began waking, muttering and pulling the cobwebs off themselves. Uther stood from his seat, clearly dazed, and peered over the table.

Lady Helen was not who she appeared to be. She was, in fact, the old woman from the main square-- the one whose son had been executed by Uther. Arthur stood too, pulling the webs from himself as he stared down in bewilderment. Gasps rippled through the guests as she took the dagger that was still clutched in her bony hand and threw it at Arthur.

Never one for thoughts before actions, Merlyn felt time slow down as she picked her skirt up and ran towards Arthur. Pompous as he was, arrogant and self-centered as he could be, he did not deserve to die over his father’s actions. She dropped her skirt to grab his shoulders, pulling him from where he stood stunned. The pair fell to the ground, landing beside each other as the dagger went through his chair.

Unsuccessful with no chance at a second try, the old woman collapsed from her injuries, joining her son in the afterlife. Arthur sat up straight, staring at the dagger in utter shock. Merlyn let out a breath, pulling herself up. She reached down to offer her hand to him, who took it while he continued staring at the dagger.

“You saved my boy's life,” Uther said. She dropped into a quick curtsy. He made his way to stand by Arthur’s side, looking overjoyed to see his son alive. “A debt must be repaid.” She shook her head, keeping her head bowed. “Don't be so modest. You shall be rewarded.”

“No, honestly, you don't have to, Your Majesty,” she insisted. King Uther waved her comments.

“No, absolutely. This merits something quite special,” he said. She gave him a smile, her cheeks tinting pink as she turned to look at Gaius. “You shall be rewarded a position in the royal household. You shall be Prince Arthur's maidservant.”

“Father!” The court clapped loudly as the smile ran from her face. She turned to see Gwen giving her a pity smile as she clapped. Everyone stood as Arthur and Merlyn looked at each other before turning away. This seemed to be more of a punishment than a reward.

Later that night, she sat at her desk, staring into the flame of a candle. Her thoughts traveled long and far, and yet the answers she sought remained just out of her grasp. The Great Dragon’s words bounced in her mind as did the feeling of looming doom.

There was a knock on her door before Gaius came in. He gave her a smile, holding a red bundle in his hands. “Seems you're a hero,” he said.

“Hard to believe, isn't it?” She gave a snort.

“No. I knew it from the moment I met you. When you saved my life, remember?”

“But...that was magic,” she said, giving him an incredulous look. There was a glint in his eye that told her he knew something she didn’t.

“And now, it seems, we finally found a use for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw how you saved Arthur's life.” She shook her head. “Perhaps that's its purpose.”

“My destiny.” She let out a sigh, looking at the flame once more.

“Indeed.” He unwrapped the bundle he was holding, sliding an old, leather book bursting at the seams with loose pages. “This book was given to me when I was your age, but I have a feeling it will be of more use to you than it was to me.”

She took the book, unlatching it to peek inside. There were pages upon pages of what looked like writing much like the type she had seen in Lady Helen’s room. Her mouth fell open as what was in her hands dawned on her.

“But this is a book of magic,” she said, looking over to him.

“Which is why you must keep it hidden.”

“I will study every word.” She threw her arms around him. She glanced back down at the book with a grin.

There was a faint knocking at the main door, followed by a voice, “Merlyn, Prince Arthur wants you right away.” Gaius turned back to her, giving her a smile.

“Your destiny's calling. You'd better find out what he wants.” She rolled her eyes, setting the book down. She glanced up at him, giving him another smile and hug before leaving to see what Arthur could possibly want at this hour.

#haveanotherfandomblog post #fate of destiny #merthur #arthur x merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #arthur #arthur pendragon #merlin x arthur #fem!merlin #arthur x fem!merlin #genderbend!au #genderbend au #genderbending #merlin angst #merlin fluff #sir leon #sir gwaine #sir lancelot #sir percival #sir elyan #guinevere #guinevere pendragon #uther pendragon #morgana #morgana le fey #gwen #knights of the round table

[haveanotherfandomblog]

Palm of God

One-Thousand-Two-Hundred-Sixty Days Before

Pairing: Anthony DiNozzo x Fem!OC

Genre: Action, Angst, Crime, Drama, Fluff

Word Count: 3.6K~

Warnings: Mentions of Violence

Masterlist || <<Previous | Next>>

Three days. It took Aurora three days to come to the realization that Agent Gibbs did not like her-- more so than the other two agents that replaced his team. With every step she took and every word she spoke, his disdain for her grew more and more apparent. She did her best to ignore his scrutinizing glare, but she could swear he knew her secret.

Michelle told her she needed to stay late to work. She stayed too, assuring her it would be better if they left together, but she wasn’t going to leave her here by herself. As Michelle worked, Aurora kept busy at her desk, keeping her in her peripheral at all times.

Sudden ringing startled both women. Aurora picked up her cell, frowning when she saw the caller. She spared a quick glance at Michelle before she answered.

“Tobias? Why are  you calling--”

“Aurora, turn on ZNN.” His tone was sharp enough to cut through glass. He and her father had worked together several times before her father retired. He was a frequent presence in her life, more so than her own father. It was sad to say that they had a much closer bond for it.

“Wha--”

“Now.” She stood from her seat and grabbed the remote off Michelle’s desk. She flipped through the channels until the spotty helicopter footage on ZNN was on screen. She sat down on Gibb’s desk and turned the volume up. “Did you find it?” His question fell on deaf ears as she watched the camera zoom out, showing a burning SUV with two indistinguishable figures nearby. The scene before her was absolute carnage.

“We’re getting reports that an explosion has rocked a neighborhood in the vicinity of the federal plaza. Authorities have closed down the entire area and are not going to give any information at this time.”

“Oh my.”

“Yeah.” Aurora shook her head, focusing her attention back on her phone call. “Yeah, I’m seeing it now. Are you there? Are you okay?” Her heart sped up slightly as she bit the tip of her thumb.

“No. I’m in DC, but your dad is there.”

“And with eight suspicious incidents in as little as three weeks, we have no room but to speculate whether or not there will be more attacks.” She turned her attention back to the screen as a woman appeared, standing in front of an ambulance. “We have no word yet on any injuries, but with the explosion as far away as Prince Street, an unconfirmed report said it was a car bomb. NYPD’s emergency services, as well as federal--” She shut the television off, excusing herself. She went around the corner, enough to keep Michelle out of earshot, but within eyesight.

“Why is he in a federal building?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“I thought you knew. Your dad left retirement a few months ago, Kid.” His words stung. She took a deep breath, glancing over her shoulder. Michelle had turned the news back on and was watching intently.

“What do you know about his case?” Her attention was back on the phone call.

“Not much. I know they were in New York for ‘nother possible Son of Sam situation, but that’s it. You know your old man’s not one for sharing.”

“Okay, well contact someone on his team and see if he’s there or--”

“That’s the thing Kid. No one can get a hold of anyone on the team.”

She hung up the phone. Checking one more time to make sure Michelle was still distracted, she began dialing her father’s number. It rang and rang and rang but he never picked up. He didn’t pick up the second, third, or fourth time he called either.

Her heart picked up as she looked at her desk. She thought about leaving, driving up to New York and searching every street until she found him. But she couldn’t leave Michelle here unsupervised. If she was the rat, then she couldn’t leave her alone with valuable government secrets. But this was her dad. Sure he hadn’t been present much in her life, less so now, but he was her flesh and blood.

She see-sawed back and forth, unsure what she should do. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she dialed the one person who could help her at a crucial time like this.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mom, it’s Rory.”

“Oh Rory! How are you sweetie? Why are you calling so late? Are you in trouble?” There was a slight panic in her mother’s voice, and she knew she couldn’t tell her about Dad, or her job.

“No! No, I’m fine, but I have a question to ask you. I-- my friend is in a bit of a dilemma.” Her mother hummed, and she could see the knowing smile on her face. “You see, she has a job to do-- a really important job, but someone close to her is in trouble-- really big trouble. But if she goes to the person, she’s risking her job and a lot of people’s safety. But this person is irreplaceable. How does she know which one to do?”

After a moment of silence, her mother finally responded, “Well, your friend does have a big decision. But it ultimately comes down to what they feel is right. However, I will grant you this parcel of wisdom to pass on: jobs are important, yes, but they come and go. It’s the people in our lives we should worry about, because when they’re gone, they’re gone. And nothing can change that.”

“Thanks Mom.”

“Good luck, sweetie.” She disconnected the call, looking at her desk. Her mother was right, of course. She couldn’t abandon her father now, not when his life could be in danger. She returned to her desk, grabbing her jacket and bag.

“Rory? Are you okay?” Michelle stood from her desk, walking over.

“Uh. Yeah.” She spared a quick glance to her desk drawer before bringing herself back to the present. “Yeah. Family emergency. I gotta go.” She left her standing in the bullpen, brows furrowed.

As she assaulted the elevator button, she took her phone out again, dialing yet another person. Thankfully she knew he was up at least.

“Vance.”

“Sir, Agent Lee is still in the building. Last I saw her, she was in the bullpen. I’d have stayed with her but something important has come up and I have to go.

“Agent Baker, I don’t know how things used to run when you were in deep cover, but these types of things need to go through proper channels.” There was an air of annoyance in his voice as he spoke. She rolled her eyes, stepping out into the car lot. “You’re in the middle of a delicate and volatile case, and asking to leave--”

“With all due respect, Director,” she cut in,” I wasn’t asking. She hung up the phone, throwing her stuff into the passenger seat of her car before speeding off into the night. She knew she’d be reamed into the next year when she returned to work, but there were other important things for her to worry about and only one place she could go.

She reached down into her glove box, pulling out her emergency phone and dialing one last person. Her other phone was ringing like crazy, so with her emergency phone between her ear and shoulder, and her left hand on the steering wheel, she fished around until her hand came into contact with the buzzing metal. She powered it off just as the receiver picked up.

“Fornell--”

“Tobias, it’s Rory. Don’t save this number, it’s a burner. I need you to do something for me.”

“Rory--” There was an underlying exasperation tone to his voice.

“Please. I want the case file Dad was working on. If I can follow his steps, I might be able to know what happened.”

“That’s a whole lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘might’s’ Kid, but I’ll see what I can do.”

It was a little more than half an hour before she was pulling into the driveway of a grand house. She let out a puff of air, shaking her head. Fame, it seemed, had treated her father well. She stepped out of the car, making her way to the front of the house. She stopped at the birch tree by the patio, digging a small hole before wrapping her fingers around a tarnished key.

She dusted the dirt off the key, and made her way inside. She let out a low whistle as she took in the exterior. If there was one thing her father was fond of, it was the finer things in life. As she hung her jacket up, there was a deep bark and the sound of running coming at her.

“Mudgie!” Her father’s brown lab came barreling down the hall, tongue flopping in the wind. She dropped to one knee as the dog nearly toppled her over, licking her face excitedly. “I’ve missed you too, boy. You’ve gotten so big!” She knew he didn’t understand what she was saying, but that was okay. She was happy he was just happy to see her.

She stood up, using her sleeve to wipe away the saliva coating her face. Her dad had done quite a lot of renovations since the last time she’d been here. Of course that had been years ago, so she wasn’t too surprised that things had changed.

She turned on the small television he had in his kitchen, watching as the woman still covered the story. She pulled her laptop out of her bag and took a seat at his counter. There was an email containing her father’s case waiting for her. His entire case was at the tip of her fingers, and she had no time to go through every bit and retrace his steps. She squared her shoulders, ignored the panic tears wishing well in her eyes, and set forth.

The hours began to tick by, yet she was no closer to figuring out what was happening with her father than she was about what he was dealing with in New York. She combed through every piece of evidence she could, watched countless videos of murder, and waited for any type of call to let her know he was okay or hurt or dead.

It was hours before she ended up passed out on the counter, computer full of a gruesome case. Her cheek rested on the cold slab of marble, a little bit of drool falling from the corner of her mouth. Her phone was clutched in her hand, the insistent ringing from Vance had ended earlier in the night.

She didn’t hear when Mudgie barked happily as his owner stepped through the threshold, hand tightly wrapped around his glock. She didn’t see the soft look that crossed his face as he reupholstered his weapon. He powered down her laptop, setting it to the side. He went to the living room, pulling out a blanket and draping it over her shoulders.

More hours passed and the smell of fresh coffee pulled her from her slumber. She let out a high-pitched whine, stretching her arms out as her back cracked and groaned from the horrible position she slept in. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and the drool from her mouth, she found her father seated across from her. He had two mugs of coffee in front of him and slid one to her. She gave him a tight-lipped smile as she took the cup, careful to avoid contact.

The tension between them was enough to suffocate anyone. Both looked anywhere but each other, taking sips of their coffee. She’d been worried about him, of course, but now that he was here and alright, she didn’t know what to do or what to say. So she settled for keeping her eyes focused on her cup, letting the hot liquid warm her up.

“So, wanna tell me what you’re doing here, Kid?” His voice brought her eyes up. Of course the first thing he’d say to her would be direct and to the point. Her father was never one for short pleasantries.

“I got a call that a bomb went off in New York City, where you were because, apparently, you’re out of retirement.” Her words were true, but how she said them made them seem unnecessarily harsh. “Then no one can get in contact with you or your team. Where else was I supposed to go?”

A ghost of a smile crossed his face as he looked down at his cup. “I assumed you’d have gone to your mother’s.” He brought the cup to his mouth, giving her a pointed look.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to worry her. It was bad enough I was panicking, I didn’t need her freaking out too.” She looked down at her cup, guilt creeping up her back. “She doesn’t know, by the way, about what happened or that you’re back at work.” She let out a deep breath, pushing the cup away from her. “Besides, you seem okay, so I guess I should go now.”

She made a move to stand, but he was faster than his age let on. He stood in front of her, both hands up to stop her. She let out a breath, giving him a pointed look.

“Stay, let me make you breakfast.”

“It’s two-thirty in the afternoon.”

“It’s never too late for Dad’s special pancakes.” He gave her a hopeful smile, and somewhere deep down inside her, it warmed her heart to see him making an effort.

“Only if they’re chocolatechip.” She sat back down, bringing the coffee back towards her. He clapped his hands together, moving around to grab an apron from a nearby pantry.

“Your wish, is my command.”

As he began pulling out the necessary ingredients, she went to the living room where his albums were and picked up one of her favorites. The wonderful sound of the Beatles filled the living room and the kitchen, and she listened as her father hummed along. She returned to her seat at the counter, watching as he expertly made his way around the kitchen, just like the rare times he was home when she was a child.

The fragrance of cake batter and chocolate swirled around her as he set a fresh plate in front of her. The two of them chowed down in silence, letting John and Paul fill the room.

Once the music died out and their plates were almost empty, she collected them, setting to work on washing the dishes. He poured them fresh cups of coffee and waited until she was seated before he spoke again.

“It’s been a long time, Kid.”

“Over seven years.” Another awkward pause settled between them. “I didn’t think you’d leave retirement.”

“Jason, uh, he resigned after a particularly nasty case. I offered to come back.” He licked his lips, taking a sip of his coffee. He cleared his throat, setting the cup down. “Your mom told me you got a new job.”

“I didn’t realize you and Mom still talked.”

“Our marriage wasn’t a bad one, just a badly timed one. And we’ll always be in each other’s lives, especially because of you, Rory. So come one, tell me about the new job.”

“I, uh, I still work for NCIS. I just kind of have a desk job now.”

“Desk job? Didn’t take you as the type to sit around all day. What do you do?”

“I’m, uh, I’m a field agent on the NCIS Major Case Response Team.” She took a sip of her coffee and he let out a chuckle.

“Should’ve known. Too much like your old man.”

Once again a thick silence fell over them, like a fog on a rainy morning. Several minutes passed where the only sound around them was Mudgie’s desperate whining and them taking sips of their coffee. She glanced at the clock and saw she’d missed an entire day of work. She was screwed seven ways to Sunday, but that was another day away.

“Well, it’s been great catching up Dad, but I have to go. I’ve missed work and I haven’t been home in over a day now.” She stood up quickly, gathering her stuff and making haste for the front door. She paused at the door, hand gripping the door handle. She glanced over her shoulder to see Mudgie had returned to her father’s side, resting his head on his leg. “I’m really happy you’re okay.”

“Me too. If you want, we can do dinner sometime. Just the two of us.”

“I’d like that.”

The last thing she saw before she closed the door was her father’s smile, something she hadn’t seen in a long time. There was a bittersweet silence in the moments that followed. She looked down at her phone as she let out a deep sigh. She had several missed calls from Vance, Michelle, and Brent, and only one missed call from Gibbs. Somehow, that terrified her more than Vance’s missed calls.

The next day was probably worse than not knowing if her father was alive or not. Thankful as she was that he was, now she’d have to face the two people who had a say over her livelihood. As she gripped the steering wheel on her way to work, she didn’t know if it’d be Gibbs or Vance that was going to yell at her, and she didn’t know which she’d prefer.

She swerved into the parking lot, narrowly missing Agent McGee as she found her parking space. She squared her shoulders and gathered her things. Just like her mother said, this was a job.

“You drive almost as bad as Ziva.” McGee was standing there with an annoyed look on his face.

“Yes, well, depending on Gibbs’ mood, you might not have to worry about me much longer.”

“What?” His face fell as he fell in step with her. “Why? What’d you do?” They stepped into the elevator together. McGee didn’t mind being a few minutes late today.

“I didn’t show up yesterday and my phone was shut off.” She swallowed the lump rising in her throat as she reminded herself to take deep and steady breaths.

“Well, do you at least have a good reason?”

“I like to think so.”

McGee gave her a pat on the back as the elevator doors opened to reveal her level. She took one step at a time, keeping her head held high as she found her way to the bullpen.

Michelle and Brent were bent over their respective desks, focused on the files in front of them. They didn’t hear her as she carefully set her stuff behind her desk. She was mere inches from sitting down when a loud and clear voice rang throughout the room, capturing everyone’s attention.

“You.” Gibbs stood at the other end of the bullpen, coffee in hand and eyes laser-focused on Aurora. He marched his way towards her, setting his coffee on his desk as he did so. As he passed her, she followed obediently. Vance had warned her about his elevator interrogations. She kept her chin up until he stopped the elevator, turning to look at her.

“You wanna tell me where you were yesterday?”

“Virginia.”

“What the hell were you doing in Virginia that was so damn important?” He raised his brows, staring at her expectantly. She had to tell him the truth about her.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet. She handed him her drivers license and the picture she kept tucked behind it. He glanced down at them. His brows furrowed as he held them further away from him, and she had to restrain herself from laughing.

“My real name is Aurora Rossi. Baker is my mom’s maiden name. My dad is SSA David Rossi, renowned crime author and federal agent. Two nights ago, it was brought to my attention that he left retirement, when I got a call that a bomb went off where he was during a case he was working.

“That picture is one of the few pictures where me, him, and my mom are all together. After their divorce, my dad’s career began taking off. He was home less and less. Days between visits turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and finally, months turned into years. Before yesterday, it’d been almost a decade since I last spoke to or saw him.”

There was silence between them. She felt like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and in that moment, she didn’t care if Gibbs was angry or not. He handed her back the picture and ID, allowing her to put them back before he spoke again.

“Why don’t you use his name?”

She couldn’t resist letting out a scoff. “Isn’t it obvious? Anything I did in life would have been because of him, not because of me. My accomplishments, my work, my life would be his, not mine. And I hate groupies.”

He let out a soft chuckle as he turned back towards the elevator. He exhaled, glancing over to her. “Rule eight: never take anything for granted. You did the right thing, Kid.”

Hearing him say that made her feel better. Though she wasn’t out of the woods just yet, she felt more confident facing Vance, knowing Gibbs backed her up. She let a tiny smile slip through as he flipped a switch to get the elevator moving again. But just before the doors opened, he reached up and slapped the back of her head.

“Rule three: never be unreachable.”

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[haveanotherfandomblog]

Roses and Thorns

Chapter Three: Halloween

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!OC

Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comedy, Fluff

Word Count: 5.2K~

Warnings: N/A

Masterlist || <<Previous | Next>>

Mid-September brought a slightly less than subtle change to the weather. The sun spent most of its time hiding behind the clouds as the wind ran rampant through the ground of Hogwarts. Gwen liked to spend her free periods outside, soaking in what little bit of sun was left before winter came barreling in and made it near impossible to go outside.

Though she was beginning to miss the warm weather, her mind was kept occupied by her studies and Quidditch. All Cedric talked about for the first two weeks of school was Quidditch--him and Tamsin. Any time spent in the Hufflepuff common room was spent talking about the game, and the pair explaining to her the fundamentals of what they called “the best game in the whole world”;  though she did get a kick out of telling them it was just the wizard version of basketball.

Quidditch tryouts for the Hufflepuff team were on the second Saturday in September. Cedric paced around the common room all morning, wringing his hands until they were a nice, bright shade of red. Tamsin and Gwen sat on the couch, attempting to study, but ultimately just watching as he paced until tryouts.

They all made their way to the Quidditch pitch. It was a large field with slightly overgrown grass and stands that stood high upon stilts. On either side of the field sat three hoops. Gwen gave Cedric a charm bracelet she had made for good luck before following Tamsin up the stands. There were scattered students in the stands, most of them older and using the excuse to come outside. There were a few other Hufflepuff students she recognized from her year: Heidi, Maxine, James, and Arthur. They were seated in the front row, watching intensely for the tryouts to start.

Cedric made his way to the middle of the pitch, clutching a broom in his hand. One by one the players began rising in the air. The Captain, Jenetta Weaver, a sixth year, was in the middle of all the players, directing them around the field. She was a fierce looking girl with long brown hair pulled into a French braid and a serious expression that always made her seem slightly confused.

She blew a loud whistle, then tossed one of the balls in the air. Immediately, the players dove for the ball, tossing it to one another and making a beeline for the hoops. One of the seventh years, who Tamsin said was a Hufflepuff Quidditch legend like Jenetta, was pacing the hoops. She had short black hair kept back by a bandana that Gwen knew was being kept in place by magic. She watched in amazement as she blocked the ball with practice ease, a smirk on her face.

Cedric was floating in the air, watching as everyone played. Another Hufflepuff student was waiting in the air with him. He didn’t do much in the air, just watched the other players.

“Tamsin,” Gwen called, pulling her out of her conversation with Heidi. “What position is Cedric going for again?”

“Seeker. That’s the one that goes after the golden snitch.” Gwen nodded her head as she watched the rest of the players. One boy, a seventh year named Marshall Allen, was hovering nearby Cedric, his hand wrapped around a bat. He had short blonde hair and was big and burly.

A black ball came whirling towards them. Cedric had barely turned half an inch before Marshall was swinging the ball, knocking it clean towards the other side of the field. Gwen gave a gasp as the other Hufflepuffs buzzed with excitement. She went to lean on the railing, more concerned with Cedric’s wellbeing than with the possibility of falling several feet.

Then he began to dive. The girls jumped from their seat, watching as he dove straight for the bottom of the pitch. They waited with baited breath as he slowly pulled the broom up at the last minute, keeping one of his hands outstretched. He slowly turned his broom before he wrapped his hand around something.

Jenetta blew her whistle, waving to gather everyone’s attention. He rode up to where she was and triumphantly held the golden snitch in his hand. Gwen hollered, clapping and waving as she jumped in the stands. The other students murmured around her, giving her odd stares. She didn’t care as he waved back before passing the snitch to Jenetta.

Tryouts continued for some time. She didn’t realize how late these could run, but she was determined to stay the entire time. Most of the other Hufflepuff students had ventured back inside, leaving Gwen, Tamsin, Maxine, Heidi, and a couple of boys from Cedric’s year in the stands.

It was almost dark when Jenetta announced her decision. She would, of course, remain as one of the chasers along with Jaqueline Beck, a seventh year. Malcolm Preece, a skinny second year with brown hair and fair skin was to join them as their third chaser. Marshall Allen remained a beater, and Anthony Rickett, another second year with a round figure and ashy-blonde hair, would join him as the second. Hufflepuff legend Ida was to remain keeper, and Cedric was the new seeker.

Gwen was beside herself, cheering and jumping and dancing. She grabbed Tamsin’s hand and dragged her down the stands, running to where he was dismounting. She tackled him to the ground, laughing and cheering. His second year friends joined her, dog piling him as they cheered. Tamsin let out a laugh before joining in, patting his shoulder aggressively. He let out a laugh, staring up at the darkening sky.

“You did it!” Gwen shouted for maybe the thousandth time as they entered the castle. “Are you going to tell your parents? I bet they’ll be so proud! This is so exciting! OMG, now I want to play Quidditch! Don’t know if I’ll be any good, but it’s always worth a shot, right? You did it!”

He nodded his head, doing the dance to enter the common room. The other Hufflepuff students gave him a round of applause . He bowed his head before collapsing onto the couch. He was still drenched in sweat but he didn’t care. Midnight barked and jumped onto the couch. He made himself comfortable on Cedric’s lap before promptly falling asleep.

“So, when’s the first game?” Gwen picked Midnight up from his spot and set him on her own lap. He provided little protest as she went to scratch his ears.

“Well, the first game of the season is sometime in early November, but the first Hufflepuff match will be mid-to-late November,” he said. “That’s when I’ll get to play.”

“You’ll be great,” Tamsin assured him. “You were like an all-star out there. Before you know it, you’ll be a Hufflepuff Quidditch legend.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. Only time could tell.

***

The rest of September was highly uneventful for Gwen. She spent most of her time studying for her classes. Cedric was swamped with school-work and Quidditch practice, so she hardly ever saw him, and when she did, he was always exhausted. Tamsin spent most of her free-time hanging out with their other dormmates, giggling over things Gwen didn’t understand. They never excluded her, but there was little fun to be had when every joke had to be explained.

No, she didn’t understand their wizard jokes, but she harbored no ill-will. She simply opted to put her focus where her family excelled, in their studies. It provided her with great comfort that Mark was always as eager to study as she was. The only problem was he was selective about which subjects he wanted to study for. Half of their classes fell to the bottom of the list. His favorites consisted of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms. He only put in an effort with potions to avoid detention with Professor Snape.

Ava was willing to give each class equal attention, but getting her to sit down and put forth the effort was another story. She would have rather spent her Saturdays wandering and exploring the castle. As fun and exciting that sounded, Gwen knew they needed to do well in school if they wanted to stay. She assured her there would be plenty of time to explore after their work was done, but getting her to focus was like getting a dog in a bath: chasing her around until you lured her with a treat.

The only person who put in the same amount of effort as Gwen was Richard. When he sat down to work, he didn’t stop until everything was done and done perfectly. Every step in his process was meticulously thought out and planned, and while the other three certainly threw more than one wrench into his work, he never left the study group or said anything mean, he simply continued on and reworked what he needed. He also helped Gwen make sure Ava and Mark completed all their work so the pair wouldn’t have to serve detention.

***

Gwen would want her kind personality and academic achievements to be her mark on Hogwarts. Unfortunately for her, her legacy would consist of wit and mischief, and it all began at the beginning of October.

October First marked the start of another school week, and the official countdown to Gwen’s favorite holiday. She and Richard were on their way to class, discussing the homework from the weekend, when two unexpected visitors stepped into their path. Richard latched onto Gwen’s arm, forcing her to stop and pay attention to the people in front of her.

“Hey there, Gwenny ol’ girl,” Fred greeted, an innocent smile on his face. His nose was still slightly swollen, despite the magic of Madam Pomfrey. “Heard ‘bout your friend making the Quidditch team. George an' me got on too, see. Beaters.”

“Congrats.” Gwen moved to step around them, tugging Richard along. Fred stepped to the side, bending his head down slightly.

“What’s the rush?”

“We need to get to class. Have a nice day.” She sidestepped them once again, and he followed suit. She exhaled loudly through her nose, frustration beginning to bubble inside her. “Can I help you?”

“Have a piece then.” George produced a piece of candy from his pocket, wrapped in shiny silver plastic. “Go on. It’s delicious. Toffee flavored.” He stuck his hand out farther, a matching grin on his face.

Something in Gwen’s body pinched the base of her spine and worked its way up to her neck. She glanced over to Richard, who seemed annoyed rather than suspicious. She gently pushed his hand away, reaching back to find Richard’s.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.” She pushed between the boys, tugging Richard along. Once she felt they weren’t going to follow, she took the chance of looking back. Both boys looked infuriated and disappointed.

“What do you suppose that was about?” Richard asked, pulling out his books. He set them neatly in the corner of his desk, spines lining up with the edge and the top sides lining up as well.

“I don’t know.” Gwen frowned, turning back to look at the door. “I doubt anything good.”

Her instinct was right. By dinner time, she saw multiple students, from all the houses, covered in massive blue polka dots, all claiming the same story: Fred and George Weasley had offered them the toffee flavored candy in the shiny, silver plastic wrap.

Ava told Gwen they had received a week’s worth of detention and had lost ten points each. Gwen shook her head and returned to her table. Those boys sure seemed to have a knack for getting themselves into trouble.

Cedric had told her they were just as bad their first year too. Sooner or later they were going to do something they couldn’t come back from, and when that happened, she just hoped they didn’t take half the school down with them.

***

Gwen, Mark, Ava, and Richard had agreed to meet every Saturday in the library to review the week’s lessons and to catch up on any work. The four fell into a routine, and while it was still far from a friendship, Gwen knew that they’d be inseparable by the end of the year.

The only issue came from Richard. While the rest of the group had other friends to hang out with, Richard seemed to be a loner, and not the stare-off-into-space-brooding-bad-boy type. It was more along the lines of help-no-one-within-a-ten-mile-radius-will-come-near-me type, and that bothered Gwen to no extent. He refused to spend time with any of his housemates, including his dormmates. In fact, he only went to his dorm to sleep. It didn’t help that almost all students outside of Slytherin avoided him too.

He assured her he didn’t mind spending time alone, and she knew that some people needed time alone, like her sister Nat, and others simply liked it, like her sister Penny, but the two of them still interacted with other people.

On days Gwen didn’t need to study, and most of the students were just hanging around, and Cedric was busy with his Quidditch practise, her and Richard would spend time walking around the black lake, bundled up as Jack Frost nipped at their noses. He wasn’t much of a talker, like her brother Nick, but Gwen found comfort in having someone listen to her without interrupting. In a family as big as hers, being heard wasn’t as easy as it should have been.

It was a Saturday after a particularly hard week in Potions, two weeks after the candy incident, that Gwen ran into the Weasley twins. Running being an operative term as the four of them had been on their way to the library when a familiar sharp pain entered Gwen’s back and shot up her spine. She stopped in her tracks, furrowing her brows.

“Gwen? What’s wrong?” Ava asked, tilting her head. Gwen didn’t know what to say. She looked around the corridor, but there wasn’t another soul.

“I don’t know. Something just feels… off.”

“I think you’ve been working too hard,” Mark said, turning back around. “Why don’t you get some rest, we’ll catch up tomorrow.

BOOM!

The entire corridor lit up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Fireworks shot out bright colors into the castle ceiling and produced dancing creatures of all kinds. The loud noise had startled Ava, Mark and Richard, as the three of them quickly ducked for cover.

Gwen, on the other hand, gave out a laugh, looking up and giving out a long whistle as the creatures disappeared.

“Oi! Come on!” Fred and George stumbled from their hiding spot, looking at her in utter disbelief. She gave them a grin, shrugging her shoulders. Her group rejoined her in the middle of the corridor, looking less than thrilled with the Weasley’s.

Of course, Mr. Filch was also less than thrilled with the mess and fire hazard they had caused. She’d never heard such shouting before. They slumped their shoulders as they were escorted to Professor McGonagall’s office, and given another week’s worth of detention, and lost another ten points each.

“I don’t know what their problem is,” Ava said, sitting with her back against the window. “They keep losing our house points and soon wea not gonna have any.” She put three piles onto the table and pulled out her ink and quill.

“Forget the points,” Mark said, dumping his bag’s contents onto the table. “They’re putting everyone in danger with stupid pranks like that. I mean, the  amount of fire hazards from that prank alone could have had devastating consequences.”

“How come you didn’t react? Did you know about it?” Richard sat with his back against the door, moving to put Mark’s items into a controlled space before setting his own books down.

“I didn’t know. I just got a weird feeling. Besides, those weren’t that bad. I mean, you haven’t seen real fireworks till you’ve been to D.C. on the Fourth of July.”

“Wow, you Amaricans are a lot mora tough than I thought.”

As the days passed, Gwen found her excitement for Halloween dwindling. The other students didn’t seem to care about the holiday, seeing as for them, it was always Halloween. They didn’t care for carving pumpkins, there was no way to watch scary movies, and nowhere to go trick-or-treating. The excitement of Halloween was almost non-existent, and that brought her cheerful demeanor down several notches.

Tamsin was the first to notice her shift in behavior. Instead of her normally cheerful jigs, Gwen’s violin seemed to only produce slow and melancholy tunes. Even in the common room, they could hear her sad songs that even made the Fat Friar sad.

She decided that Gwen needed a nice pick me up, and there was no better place for spooky lore than the library. On their way there, another sharp pain shot through her spine, causing her to stop in her tracks. She held out her arm, stopping Tamsin as well. She opened her mouth to protest, but was quickly shushed.

She was not amused by Gwen’s sudden odd behavior and pushed her arms away, placing her hands on her hips. She gave her a pointed look, looking around the semi-empty hallway.

She brushed off her annoyance, watching as Mr. Filch marched down the corridor, Mrs. Norris hot on his heels. He grumbled as he passed the girls, ignoring most of the students as he went to round the corner.

Loud screaming startled the corridor as he fell backwards, legs stuck together like a mermaid. The children’s mouths fell open as Mr. Filch flailed about the floor, yelling and pointing like a mad man. Gwen covered her mouth as Tamsin struggled not to laugh.

It was no surprise when the culprits turned out to be Fred and George. They emerged from around the corner, faces almost as red as their hair. They turned their heads and saw Gwen and Tamsin staring at them, disappointed but not surprised. Fred looked like he could strangle someone as George drew his mouth into a thin line.

“What is going on here?” Professor McGonagall’s voice carried through the corridor loud and clear, effectively silencing everyone except Mr. Filch, who was still flopping around the floor like a fish. She cast an unamused stare down at him before pulling out her wand and giving it a slight wave.

His legs were released and he scrambled to stand up, turning a nasty stare onto the twins. Professor McGonagall held up her hand, silencing him at once. She turned her sharp gaze onto them, releasing a slow and steady breath. 

Of course, with his impeccable timing, Peeves came swooping in from another corridor, laughing and pointing at the pair. Though usually excited for the encouragement, both looked like they wanted to throttle the poltergeist.

“Oh ho ho! Looky what we have here! Silly silly boys!” He let out another rambunctious laugh circling above them. Professor McGonagall simply shooed him away, with threats of Dumbledore and the Bloody Baron. He stuck out his tongue before flying away to cause problems somewhere else.

“Everyone, get to your classes. Now.” The other students scrambled to avoid getting detention. Tamsin pulled Gwen along, eager to leave Professor McGonagall’s war path. “As for you two, after your fiascos this month, I see it only fit that you both receive a month’s worth of detentions. As such, you both lose twenty points-- each.” Gwen felt bad that they kept getting into so much trouble, but she couldn’t understand why they did it. No one was laughing, not even them. Hopefully now they learned their lesson.

When Halloween was right around the corner, Gwen found herself in a sour mood almost everyday. Her sunny disposition was nowhere to be seen, and the entire Hufflepuff dorm was filled with her low and somber music. Even Richard was beginning to miss her chatter. Her mood was a mystery to everyone, herself included.

Halloween had always been a happy time in her life. Her family always went trick-or-treating in Grandpa Dave’s nice neighborhood, followed by a trip to a haunted house, and ending the night with a big party at their house. Yet the excitement for her family’s favorite holiday was nonexistent.

“Oh, chea up Gwen,” Ava encouraged. They had just finished their last class of the day and were going to drop their books off in their respective dorms. “My dad told me tha’s always a big feast for Halloween. Sure to be a sight to see.” Gwen shrugged, fiddling with the edges of her notebooks. “Don’ worry, you’ll feel tons betta when you get some suppa in you.”

“Okay.” Gwen waved goodbye as she continued down to the common room.

Most of the students were rushing out of the common room, eager to feast upon the delicious food they’d been smelling throughout the day. She pushed past the sea of hungry students and went to her dorm room, where her dormmates had already deposited their stuff. Heather’s books were piled neatly into her trunk, the lid left open in her haste. Heidi and Maxine had both placed their books on top of their trunks before they’d undoubtedly ran to join Tamsin, whose books laid in a skewed pile on her bed.

Gwen carefully placed her charm book on top of her other books before carefully closing the lid. She shuffled to the common room, which was almost empty save for the other Hufflepuff pets that weren’t owls.

Midnight was amongst them, lazily perched above the fireplace, his tail flicking back and forth. His bright blue eyes watched her carefully as she shuffled through the barrel hole and made her way to join the other students.

Ava’s dad was true to his word, the Great Hall was a spectacle to behold. Candles floated above them, casting a spook-tacular glow around them. The ghosts were floating around as well, moaning and causing quite the ruckus with Peeves. Candy and other Halloween themed food lined all five tables.

Cedric was seated near the end of the Hufflepuff table, chatting with the other Quidditch players. Their first Quidditch game was only a matter of weeks away. He waved her over, giving Tamsin a shove as she chatted with Heidi and Maxine. She moved over without breaking away from her conversation, shoveling her food into her mouth.

Gwen sat between the two, grabbing a fair and healthy serving of food. Cedric returned to his conversation of strategy and Tamsin only offered her a smile. Their plates were piled with delicious food and sweets of every kind, both magical and muggle. Gwen grabbed her fork, but couldn’t bring herself to take anything. She pushed her food around her plate, resting her chin in her hand.

She glanced around the Great Hall. Ava was sitting amongst a group of Gryffindor girls, giggling and chatting. Mark was eating and listening to whatever the other boys in their year were going on about. Richard was seated at the end of the table, a book in his hand as he read and ate silently.

It seemed no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the festivities like the other students. Even the ghost choir, who were singing a beautifully haunting melody, couldn’t put her in a good mood.

“You doin’ alright Gwen?” Cedric asked, pulling himself away from his teammates. Gwen let out a sigh, stuffing her mouth with mashed potatoes. “That bad, huh?” She shrugged, keeping her eyes on her lap. He gave her back a gentle rub, moving to eat his own food. She set her fork down, excusing herself from the table and turning in for an early night.

She knew that right about now, her siblings were seated in a circle in their living room, negotiating candy trades, with Kate and Lily easily swindling their other siblings out of their fair share. While that was going on, her parents would be seated on the couch, her dad with his cup of decaf coffee and her mom with her cup of herbal tea, watching in amusement as they waited for guests to arrive.

She knew Aunt Penny would have the coolest costume, and she’d have brought the pumpkin pie cupcakes with the white frosting sprinkled with cinnamon and nutmeg. Uncle Derek would have new ghost stories to tell and games to play.

The only thing Gwen couldn’t figure out was if they missed her as much as she missed them. She  wished she could call them and let them know she wanted to be there. She wanted to hear the new story and have one of Aunt Penny’s cupcakes. She wished she could have gone trick-or-treating and carved pumpkins and gone to a haunted house.

Instead, she was left wandering towards her dorm. Maybe if she hadn’t been so deep in thought and self-pity, she would have felt that sharp pinch slither up her spine. Maybe she would have heard the echoes of footsteps and muffled laughter. But alas, as she wound the corner to the stairs towards her common room…

SPLASH!

Water poured down on her, leaving her completely drenched. Her mouth fell open as she let out a gasp, looking around. Fred and George fell from their hiding spot, holding their sides as they howled with laughter. There were tears in their eyes as they rolled around the floor.

Now, Gwen loved a good prank. Pouring water on someone wasn’t too bad, and on any other night, she might have joined in on their laughter with a promise to return the favor. But this wasn’t any other night. And if they’d taken two seconds to look at her, they’d have seen what they did had a worse effect on her than they intended.

Tears welled in her eyes as her lip began quivering. One of the twins, she wasn’t sure which, hit the other, looking at her. Both stopped laughing as her tears began falling down her face. They glanced at each other before they both ran for it. One of them paused, turning their head back briefly before they disappeared from view.

She took a seat at the bottom of the stairs, bringing her knees to her chest. She rested her head on her knees, shivering as her tears mixed with the water dripping from her hair. This had to be, by far, the worst Halloween of her entire life.

“Gwen?”

She lifted her head to see Richard standing in front of her. His hands were gripping his satchel and his brows were furrowed. He took a seat next to her, eyes darting all over her.

“What’re you doing here?” She let out a sniffle, smoothing out her school robes. She used the back of her hand to wipe away her tears, not that it made much of a difference.

“I saw the Weasley twins leave shortly after you did. I wanted to make sure they didn’t do anything. I guess I was too late.” He reached into his bag, scrunching his nose as he pulled out his wand. “Reverte.”

The water vanished from her and left her nice and dry, though she was still cold and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. She gave a breathy chuckle, using her sleeve to wipe her nose. She thanked him and fiddled with her robe, keeping her gaze down on her robe.

“So, do you want to talk about it?” He tucked his wand back into his bag, scrunching his nose as he fixed his glasses. She shook her head, tucking her knees back under her chin and earning a slight chuckle from him. She turned her head. It was the first time she’d heard him laugh.

“What?”

“First time you don’t want to talk, and it’s the first time you need to. Come on.” He gave her a gentle nudge.

“It has nothing to do with the twins,” she confessed, squeezing her legs. “It’s just-- it’s stupid. Getting worked up over something so silly.” She paused, but he wasn’t giving up that easily. He nudged her again, giving her a pointed look. “It’s just-- me and my family always celebrate Halloween with a big celebration. It’s almost as big as Christmas for my family, and, well, this is my first Halloween I won’t be celebrating with them. I dunno, I guess I just-- I don’t know.”

“It’s okay.” He gave her an awkward pat on the back. “There’s worse things to miss.” She turned her head, giving him a deep frown. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being upset. It was something important to you.” He drew his mouth into a thin line, furrowing his brows. “Why don’t you just write to your family? I’m sure it’ll make you feel better.”

She mauled over his words. He was right, if not for the reason he thought. Both her parents had degrees in psychology and both would be able to help her. She stood up suddenly, startling him into standing as well.

“Thanks Richard. You’re a good friend.” She gave him a strong hug, which, after the initial shock wore off, he returned hesitantly, giving her back a couple awkward pats. She skipped off to her common room, her mood better than it had been for most of the month. The first thing she did was pull out a roll of parchment and a quill.

Dear Reid Family and Extended Loved Ones,

I hope you guys had a spook-tacular Halloween! Mine wasn’t too interesting. Actually, mine wasn’t fun at all. They threw a big feast and had a ghost choir, but there wasn’t any trick-or-treating or haunted houses or Aunt Penny’s cupcakes. I’m sure Uncle Derek had a lot of cool stories to tell. Surprisingly, the ghosts here don’t tell many scary stories. They’re just really, really, really sad. I guess that’s what happens when you’re dead.

On a happier note, I think I’ve entered my first prank war. These two boys, brothers, have been trying to prank me all month. I’ve avoided it for the most part, but they got me today. It wasn’t too bad, just some water, but now I’ve got to think of a good comeback. (I’m looking at you for help Daddy!)

I was a little upset today because I missed you guys, but Richard (that’s my friend in Slytherin) really helped me today. He was actually the one who suggested I write to you guys. I can’t wait to see you all in a couple months for Christmas! I love and miss you all!

Love,

Gwen

She carefully folded the letter and slipped into an envelope before scrawling her mother’s name on it. It was a quick and uneventful trip to the owlery and back to the common room. By her return, most of the students had returned and were heading to bed for tomorrow’s classes.

“Gwen.” Cedric waved his hand, jogging over to her. “You okay? You left pretty early.”

“I’m okay.” She gave him an affirmative nod and a chipper smile. He smiled too, chuckling. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Well, you certainly look happier. Come on. You should get to bed. We still have classes tomorrow.” He nudged her towards her dorm room before he headed off to his own.

She climbed the stairs until she reached her room. Everyone was already asleep, happy in their candy-induced comas. She changed in her pajamas before also climbing into her bed. Midnight jumped onto her bed as well, snuggling right by her face as drifted off.

#haveanotherfandomblog post #roses and thorns #aftermath series #george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley headcanon #george weasley smut #george weasley one shot #george weasley x oc #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley x fem #george weasley angst #george weasley blurb #george weasley drabble #george weasley fluff #george weasley fic #george weasley imagine #george weasley oneshot #george weasley series #george weasley scenario #harry/draco #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x draco malfoy #harry x draco

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Palm of God

One-Thousand-Two-Hundred-Sixty-Three Days Before

Pairing: Anthony DiNozzo x Fem!OC

Genre: Action, Angst, Crime, Drama, Fluff

Word Count: 1.2K~

Warnings: Mild Language

Masterlist || Next>>

“I want you to think of this as another deep cover assignment.” The new Director of NCIS, Leon Vance sat behind his new desk, his hands tented in front of his chin and a toothpick dangling between his lips.

Most NCIS agents and several government officials were at the funeral of the late NCIS Director, Jenny Shepard. This would be the only time Director Vance could meet with the agent without risk of a certain someone disturbing them. The agent in front of his desk stood with their hands collapsed behind their back, face blank as they stared ahead.

“Agent Gibbs isn’t going to be happy about this, Director.”

“His happiness isn’t a factor in this.”

“Of course not, Sir, but no one can deny his talents. He’s known as many things, a bastard for one.” Director Vance let out a snort, leaning back in his chair. “But a great agent as another. He’s going to know something’s up.”

“Agent Gibbs isn’t your concern,” Director Vance said, moving to stand from his seat. He moved from behind the desk, handing the agent a manila folder. “They are.” He went across the room as they flipped the folder open. “Keep your cover intact and your objective unknown, and I don’t foresee there being a problem.” The agent continued flipping through the folder, eyes carefully reading each word of the pages. “If, for any reason, you should think Agent Gibbs suspects a thing, or either of them, you come directly to me. Understood?” The agent turned their head, snapping the folder shut.

“Yes, Sir.”

***

“Agent Gibbs, meet your new team.” Director Vance handed Agent Gibbs three confidential files. He turned to Agents DiNozzo and McGee and Officer David and dismissed them from his office. They reluctantly left to clear out their desks, thinking hard of their new roles. Agent Gibbs sat down at the Director’s table, opening the first folder.

Agent Brent Langer had transferred back to NCIS, leaving the FBI in the dust. Gibbs furrowed his brow; the two didn’t always see eye-to-eye, or maybe they did and were just too stubborn to back down. Either way, Gibbs knew Langer, and Langer liked to play by his own rules-- the whole reason Gibbs wasn’t too upset when he transferred over to the FBI in the first place.

Gibbs flipped the second file open and nearly laughed. Agent Michelle Lee did have some field training, but according to DiNozzo, she was better suited in the legal department. She was smart with great connections, but she did everything by the book. She was too honest for her own good, and that wouldn’t always, if ever, mesh well with Gibbs.

Flipping open the last file, Gibbs was met with someone he didn’t recognize: Agent Aurora Baker. He held the file away from his face to read her file. Well-liked by her colleagues, the one’s who were able to have contact with her, no disciplinary issues, but deep cover agents get a lot more leeway than regular agents. Out of the three files, hers was the smallest. He didn’t like vague information.

He pushed the files away slightly. He didn’t want a new team. He wanted his team, but the look on Director Vance’s face said there wasn’t going to be a discussion about his new team. At least not today.

It was bright and early the next day when Gibb’s new team arrived at his bullpen. Agent Langer and Agent Lee he immediately recognized. Both stood awkwardly as they waited for Gibbs to speak. He glanced around and spotted brunette hair bent over Ziva’s desk. His hope was crushed when he saw Agent Baker’s face instead of Ziva’s.

She was setting a picture frame when she glanced up, her thin, almond-shaped eyes meeting his briefly. She gave him a quick nod before going back to setting up the desk to her liking.

Gibbs didn’t know what to say to his new team. Suck-up Michelle Lee, fast-and-loose Brent Langer, and the mysterious Aurora Baker. He narrowed his eyes slightly. He hated mysteries.

Or more accurately, he hated change. This wasn’t just an exchange of agents, this was losing a family in favor of agents that seemed to mix together as well as water and oil. The desks had barely been barren for twenty-four hours before Agent Baker had begun making herself comfortable.

Gibbs moved around to his own desk, watching as Agent Baker set more photographs on the desk. She smiled at one picture, a younger version of her with her arm wrapped around a young blonde girl. More pictures from mostly her childhood, several of them with her mother. None of a father. He tilted his head slightly, watching as she ignored his gaze. He turned to Agents Langer and Lee who were still standing awkwardly.

“Get comfortable.” He gestured to the desk. They immediately scrambled to the other two desks, Agent Langer to Tony’s desk and Agent Lee to Tim’s.

Gibbs glanced up to where Director Vance was watching. His face was stone as his hand rested on the terrace, a toothpick in his mouth. Gibbs said nothing but took a seat, watching the agents. Langer was rifling through the few things Tony left behind, putting his own nonsense on the desk and in the drawers. Lee had very little to put on the desk, keeping a bare and minimalistic style, much like McGee.

A sentimental action caught the corner of his eye. Aurora was running her thumb across one of her picture frames, but there was no smile on her face, no hint of fondness or nostalgia. She opened the top left drawer, setting the picture inside before shutting and locking the drawer.

His phone buzzed and he answered it without checking the caller. Abby’s loud screeching pierced his ear, causing him to jerk the phone away. She continued to ramble incoherently into the phone as he glanced around the bullpen. Lee and Langer were focused on their desks, ignoring Gibbs and his phone call.

He turned to Aurora who was staring directly at him, one of her brows raised. Her eyes flickered from his face to his phone, to the back elevator before landing back on his face. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly as she turned to the computer on her desk.

She pulled up a blank document and began typing, watching from the corner of her eye as Gibbs disappeared to the back elevator. Happy was not a word she would have used to describe Gibbs. Perpetually vexed, abnormally quiet, calculating, sure, but not happy.

She opened her bottom right drawer, lifting up the bottom to reveal a secret compartment. She pulled out a manila folder, rereading through the two agent profiles hidden within. She took a deep breath, placing it back into the safety of its hidden spot.

She glanced up to where Director Vance was still standing, toothpick still in his mouth as he stared at her, or more specifically, at where the folder was hidden. She released her deep breath, turning her attention to Agent Langer and Lee. Both self-absorbed enough to not notice her piercing gaze.

One of them was a traitor to their agency, their country, and themselves. She needed to figure out which one it was quickly. News of a traitor could cause a bigger scandal and disaster than Robert Hanssen. And it rested on her to stop it.

#haveanotherfandomblog post #ncis #ncis fanfiction #ncis angst #ncis fic #ncis fluff #ncis fic series #ncis oc #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic series #criminal minds oc #criminal minds x ncis #ncis x criminal minds #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #tony dinozzo #tony dinozzo x oc #anthony dinozzo x oc #anthony dinozzo fanfiction #anthony dinozzo fic #anthony dinozzo fic series #anthony dinozzo angst #anthony dinozzo fluff #anthony dinozzo fics

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Palm of God Masterlist

Fandom(s): Criminal Minds, NCIS

Pairing(s): Anthony DiNozzo x OC, Anthony DiNozzo x Ziva David

Genre: Action, Angst, Crime, Drama, Fluff

Rating: TV-MA

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Intense Language, Sexual Situations, Strong Dialogue

Summary: Deep cover Special Agent Aurora Baker is assigned her deepest cover yet by the new NCIS Director, Leon Vance. Her deep cover assignment comes with its own dangerous risks, and it couldn't have come at a worse time. Her estranged father makes an effort to be in her life after a near-death experience, and her mother is acting almost as strange as her father. With Leroy Jethro Gibbs watching her every move, Director Vance breathing down her neck, and her family problems creeping up on her, it'll take all her strength and help from God to keep everything from falling apart.

Rory Baker

One-Thousand-Two-Hundred-Sixty-Three Days Before

One-Thousand-Two-Hundred-Sixty Days Before

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Fate of Destiny Masterlist

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Pairing(s): Arthur Pendragon x Fem!Merlin

Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, Fluff, Genderbending!AU

Rating: PG-13

Warning(s): Mild Language

Summary: No young woman, no matter how great, can know her destiny. She cannot glimpse her part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone else, she must live and learn. And so it will be for the young enchantress arriving at the gates of Camelot. A girl that will, in time, mother the legend. Her name: Merlyn.

The Dragon's Call

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Mr. Wilson

Full Name: Carnie Wilson

Name Origin: Carnie- “pile of stone erected as a memorial”. Wilson- “protector”.

Nickname(s): N/A

Birthday: February 24, 1996

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Age: 22

Place of Birth: Rochester, New York

Sex: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity: American

Hair: Short, Brown

Eyes: Green, Wide

Nose: Small, Upturned

Mouth: Small, Thin

Build: Short, Thin, Lankey

Style: Slacks, Button-Ups, Sensible Shoes

Occupation: Lawyer

Strengths: Smart

Flaws: Awkward

Habits: Fidgets when Nervous

Personality: Awkward, Cunning, Accomplished, Ambitious, Intelligent

Family: N/A

Story: Fiery Passions || Pasiones Ardientes

Fandom(s): Diary of a Wimpy Kid, My Babysitter’s a Vampire

Other Information

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Personality Type: INTJ-T

Representative Color(s): Black

Iconic Quotes

Mr. Wilson: TBA

#haveanotherfandomblog post #my babysitter’s a vampire crossover #my babysitter's a vampire smut #my babysitter's a vampire #diary of a wimpy kid crossover #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy a kid smut #benny weir fluff #benny weir x oc #benny weir x reader #benny weir smut #benny weir #rodrick heffley x oc #rodrick heffley x you #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley smut #rodrick heffley #fiery passions

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Rory Baker

Full Name: Aurora Jami Rossi

Name Origin: Aurora- “dawn”. Jami- “may God Protect”. Female version of James. Rossi- “red”.

Nickname(s): Rory- by most everyone, Babe- by Tony DiNozzo & Livvie Carter, Kid- by Jethro Gibbs, Tobias Fornell, David Rossi

Alias(es): Valentina “Ace” DiMauro (December 2001-November 2002), Sienna Azzopardi (February 2003-May 2004), Contessa Reo (July 2004-December 2004), Lia Sunseri (March 2005- April 2008), Special Agent Aurora Baker (May 2008-)

Birthday: November 21, 1980

Zodiac: Scorpio/Sagittarius Cusp

Age(s): 27

Sex: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Ethnicity: Italian-American

Place of Birth: Langley, Virginia, United States of America

Current Residence: Anacostia, Washington D.C, United States of America

Occupation(s): NCIS Special Agent, Deep Cover NCIS Agent (Formerly)

Appearance

Hair: Black, Medium, Curly

Eyes: Thin, Almond, Dark Brown

Nose: Sharp, Slightly Wide

Mouth: Round Lips

Skin Tone: Slightly tanned skin, littered with light scars on various parts of her body

Build: Average height, slightly muscular

Style: Dark Jeans and plain t-shirts. Boots or tennis shoes. Gold jewelry and natural makeup

Personality

Positive Traits: Adaptable, Brave, Charismatic, Confident, Dedicated, Disciplined, Funny, Intelligent, Loyal, Passionate, Resourceful, Self-Reliant, Self-Sufficient, Strong

Neutral Traits: Analytical, Competitive, Private, Proud, Religious, Stubborn

Negative Traits: Abrasive, Argumentative, Impatient, Manipulative, Resentful, Secretive

Strengths: Impeccable aim with firearms. Able to go deep-undercover. Verified in profiling. Familiar with Naval and Marine procedures.

Flaws: Hard-headed. Opinionated. Hot-tempered. Uses humor at inappropriate times.

Habits: Clicks tongue when unhappy/unsatisfied. Crosses arms and bites tip of thumb when nervous.

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Personality Type: ESTP-A- the Entrepreneur: 77%- Extraverted, 57%- Observant, 65%- Thinking, 51%- Prospecting, 78%- Assertive

Family

Father: David Stephan Rossi

Mother: Carolyn Baker Rossi

Brother(s): James David Rossi- older (deceased)

Uncle(s): Sal Rossi (deceased)

Aunt(s): Rosie Rossi (deceased)

Friends: Livvie Carter, Jimmy Palmer, Donald “Ducky” Mallard, Timothy McGee, Abby Scuito, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Leon Vance

Love Interest(s): Tony DiNozzo

Enemies: Ice Box

Other Information

Accomplishments: 1575- SAT Score, Fluent in Italian, Star Softball Player Throughout High School and College

Hobbies: Softball, Hunting

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Story: Palm of God

Fandom(s): Criminal Minds, NCIS

Iconic Quotes

Rory: He’s known as many things, a bastard for one. (Part 1)

#haveanotherfandomblog post #palm of god #anthony dinozzo fluff #anthony dinozzo smut #anthony dinozzo angst #anthony dinozzo x oc #anthony dinozzo #criminal minds crossover #crimnal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #david rossi father!au #ncis angst #ncis fic #ncis imagine #ncis x reader #ncis #anthony dinozzo fanfiction

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Clara Adams

Full Name: Clarice Adams

Name Origin: Clarice- “bright”, “clear”, “famous”. Adams- “Earth”.

Nickname(s): Clara

Birthday: May 7, 2000

Zodiac Sign: Taurus

Age: 18

Place of Birth: Whitechapel, New York

Sex: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Ethnicity: American

Hair: Long, Dark Brown

Eyes: Light Brown, Glowing

Nose: Soft, Straight, Hooked

Mouth: Big, Crooked

Build: Average Height, Curvy

Style: Jeans, Tee-Shirts, Sneakers

Occupation: Child Caretaker

Strengths: Street Smart

Flaws: Loud

Habits: TBA

Personality: Funny, Friendly, Kind, Understanding

Family: N/A

Story: Fiery Passions || Pasiones Ardientes

Fandom(s): Diary of a Wimpy Kid, My Babysitter’s a Vampire

Other Information

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Alignment: True Neutral

Personality Type: ESFP-T

Representative Color(s): Orange, Brown

Iconic Quotes

Clara: TBA

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Roses and Thorns

Chapter 2: House Rivalries

Pairing: George Weasley x Female!OC

Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comedy, Fluff

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Minor Descriptions of Violence

Masterlist || <<Previous | Next>>

Dear Reid Family and Extended Loved Ones,

Hi! This is a weird letter to write because I’m not using a regular pen and paper. They don’t use that “muggle” stuff here. Instead we get giant feathers called quills and long, fancy pieces of paper called parchment. Mom was right! We don’t have a mailman here. We really do use owls instead! There’s a whole tower where everyone’s owls rest. Isn’t that crazy?!

Anyway, I wanted to tell you about my first week at school. It’s been a long one, but it’s been so much fun! My classes require a lot of studying, especially since I’m new at this whole “being a witch” thing, but I like studying for these classes. They’re a lot more interesting than English and Science. (Sorry Daddy!)

My first class this week was probably my most boring class, “History of Magic”. Despite being the most boring class, it has the most interesting teacher. He’s a ghost! Mom, you didn’t mention that the school’s full of ghosts. And what’s even more interesting is that each of the Hogwarts’ Houses has a ghost.

There’s another ghost at the school, a bad one named Peeves. He does a lot of bad things like writing bad words, breaking things, and interrupting classes. He makes all the teachers go crazy!

My first class is with one of my friends I made on the train to school, Richard. He’s in Slytherin’s house. He doesn’t think History of Magic is very interesting either. We have another class together too, “Transfiguration. That teacher is a little scary. She always seems so serious, like Uncle Aaron.

Richard, much like he had been on the train, was quiet and thoughtful. He didn’t talk to Gwen much. In fact, during their first class, he didn’t talk at all. He sat as far away from everyone as possible, keeping his head down and focused on his books in front of him.

As his other housemates started coming into class, all of them avoided him like the plague. They whispered to each other and pointed at him as they sat down. Gwen sat with her fellow Hufflepuff, Tamsin, continuously glancing back at Richard. Everyone, from both houses, sneered and glared at him.

After two periods worth of them treating Richard like that, when they went to Transfiguration, the exact same thing happened. Richard sat in the back of the classroom, head bent down as his classmates looked at him in disgust.

She simply couldn’t understand her classmates’ behavior towards him, especially since Richard hadn’t done anything to warrant it. Having had enough of their rude behavior, Gwen took the seat next to him, ignoring his squinted gaze as she pulled out a roll of parchment and her quill. He continued to stare at her, his glasses sliding down his nose as he tilted his head.

“Good morning class.” Everyone turned their attention to the front of the classroom where the teacher from the first night stood. Professor McGonagall was just as imposing as she had been the first night Gwen saw her. Her eyes bore deep into each student as she swept her gaze over the class. She seemed to pause on Gwen before also pausing on Richard.

“Transfiguration,” she continued, “is one of the most complex and dangerous types of magic you will learn here at Hogwarts. Any foolishness of any sort, and you will be dismissed from this class and you will not step foot in it again.”

Professor McGonagall astounded and amazed Gwen. Never had a woman, besides her own mother, stood with such conviction that her posture alone was enough to demand the respect of anyone in her presence. Both women reminded Gwen of the ancient queens that held themselves with grace and dignity.

My next class is “Defense Against the Dark Arts”. Doesn’t that sound scary? Well don’t worry, it’s not really scary. At least not yet. I think the class is really cool, even if the teacher is a little jumpy.

I share that class with my other friend, Mark. He’s not in Hufflepuff either. He’s in Ravenclaw because he’s really smart, just like Daddy and Bobby! He doesn’t know much about being a wizard either, so we’re learning together!

Much like Richard, Mark wasn’t one for words. He was rather content with listening to Gwen rather than talking himself. When she had placed herself next to him in their first class together, he’d given her a weird look, but said nothing. Gwen in turn gave him a big smile.

The class hadn’t been as exciting as Gwen had hoped it would be. Like most of her classes, the teacher went over the rules and expectations and gave a brief summary of what they would be learning over the course of the year.

Mark barely glanced up from his book as he took surprisingly detailed notes on everything the teacher said. He really did remind Gwen of her older brother. Bobby’s notebooks were always filled to the brim with notes whenever she saw him at the kitchen counter.

We also have “Potions” together. Now that teacher is scary. He always frowns and wears nothing but black. I think if he smiled more and added a splash of color to his outfits he wouldn’t be so scary. The older kids call him some really mean names, and I don’t think that’s very nice of them.

Professor Snape was terrifying as a teacher. He had a permanent scowl on his face and always seemed to be in a foul mood. The other students from Gwen’s house, including Cedric, had warned her about the “dungeon bat” the school called their “Potions Master”.

On the first day of class, he marched into the room, his robes billowing behind him as he slammed the door shut. Gwen jumped slightly, peeking over to Mark who looked just as stunned as her.

Professor Snape turned his harsh glare onto the students, going over roll call to make sure everyone was there. He paused when he met Gwen’s eyes. He narrowed his gaze, almost like he was trying to remember Gwen from sometime before class, but others would confuse his stare for one of hatred.

“There will be no foolish wand waving in this classroom. I do not expect you to appreciate the delicate art that is potion making. Here I can teach you a great many things, if you aren’t all a bunch of useless dunderheads.” No one said anything as he continued to lecture the class before having them dive into their first potion.

My last class of the day is Herbology. My teacher for that class is also my “Head of House”.  That means she acts like a nanny for everyone in Hufflepuff. She’s a really nice lady. She reminds me of Aunt Penny!

Professor Sprout was a gentle, older lady with a rounder figure. Unlike the other teachers, she seemed to take an interest in what the students thought and was more than eager to teach them everything she could. Gwen was happy that Professor Sprout was her Head of House. She couldn’t imagine having Professor Snape as a caretaker.

I have that class with my other other friend, Ava. She’s also not in my house. She’s in Gryffindor. She’s also in my Charms class. That’s where we learn most of our spells. Ava’s really good in that class. I guess since she’s from an all-wizard family, she’s had some practice.

Ava was the most welcoming of Gwen’s three friends. She gave Gwen a smile when she sat next to her during class. Ava seemed much more extroverted now that she seemed comfortable around Gwen. And while they weren’t the best of friends, Gwen felt they could be.

Ava truly did have a knack for charms. She knew how to hold her wand and how to properly enunciate most of the spells they learned. Gwen being both American and unfamiliar with the wizarding world, had a bit more trouble. Ava was kind enough to help Gwen.

I share one class with all three of them and that’s astronomy. I see why you liked that class so much Mom, and why you like the stars so much now. The sky is so pretty, especially from all the way up at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

My other class, which I don’t have with any of them, is flying. I think this might be my favorite class! They’re teaching us to fly so we can play a game called “Quidditch”. It’s like basketball and baseball mixed together, while on brooms! It seems like a really fun game!

Gwen had that class with the other Hogwarts students she didn’t see regularly. She stood with her classmates as an older woman with golden eyes like hers stepped into the field. She told them about the exciting game of Quidditch, which sounded like a funny word to Gwen.

Gwen made friends with the other students in her house as well, one in particular being Tamsin Applebee, who shared an interest in Quidditch. The two of them spent quite a few nights discussing it.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say. I love you all and can’t wait to see you guys for Christmas!

Love,

Gwen

Gwen folded the long piece of parchment before placing it inside the envelope. Cedric sat next to her, working on homework from Professor McGonagall. She peered over at his paper and found him writing about beetle buttons.

She shook her head and reached to grab the spoon holding hot wax and poured it over the back of the envelope before grabbing the stick with the Hufflepuff sigil on it and pressing down firmly. She waited until the wax cooled to pull the stamp off.

“You heading down to the owlery?” Cedric asked, peering up from his homework. Gwen nodded, carefully writing the address her mother had given her. “Then I’m coming with. This homework’s killing my brain.” Gwen giggled, tucking the envelope into her robes that now held the Hufflepuff colors and sigil.

“We’ve only been in school a week,” she pointed out. He shrugged, staring at her as if that had anything to do with his statement. “Alright. Let’s go before you lose your mind. Can’t imagine what you’ll be like during finals.” He let out a groan, twisting his face into a scowl and tossing his papers to the side.

It was a lovely Saturday afternoon with warm, sunny weather, so most of the students were outside enjoying the last reminscits of summer before the cool winds of autumn took over. Cedric and Gwen were able to skip through the empty halls, laughing about anything and everything. Gwen wished she could join the other students outside, but she had promised Ava and Mark that they could all head to the library to work on homework.

The ghosts of Hogwarts floated by, ignoring Gwen and Cedric and letting out forlorn moans. Of course, Gwen found that not every ghost wished to be a sad, lost soul. Sir Nicholas of Gryffindor and the Fat Friar of Hufflepuff always seemed up for a light-hearted conversation.

Once they arrived, Gwen set to work on finding the small, red owl her mother had told her about. “Carnelian?” she called timidly. There was a soft hoot before a beautiful red owl landed on the railing next to Cedric. He held his hand out and the tiny owl bumped its beak against his hand.

“It’s cute.” Gwen nodded in agreement. She called for it again, and it turned its big brown eyes towards her. She gave the bird a few gentle strokes, resulting in several happy hoots. She reached into her robes and produced the envelope. She held it out for Carnelian to take into her beak.

“That’s for Mom. Where she used to have you go.” The owl blinked, tilting its head before she turned herself around and stretched her wings. She stood there for a few seconds before she jumped and flew into the sun.

Gwen rested her arms on the railing where Carnelian had been, watching her fly off. A small twinge of sadness plucked at her heart. Cedric took notice of Gwen's dampening mood and came to rest beside her.

“Everything alright?” he asked. Gwen shrugged, looking down to run her finger along the rail absentmindedly. Cedric nudged her slightly, staring off at the owl. “It’s okay to miss your family. I missed my parents when I first came here, but I found that having friends really helped, and in a way, they became like a second family.”

“I don’t see you with a letter home,” Gwen pointed out. He shrugged, turning so his back was leaning against the railing. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking over to Gwen.

“I write home about once a month. It’s less stressful that way. You’ll find the more homework you have, the less you write home.”

Gwen didn’t believe that for one second. It might have been true for Cedric, but he grew up in this world. He knew about magic before he could crawl and continued to grow up around it. It wasn’t until a few months ago that Gwen had learned that magic was real, let alone that she and her mother possessed it.

Except for those she knew now who had grown up around magic, and her teachers, her mother was the most knowledgeable about the wizarding world. Gwen was relying on her mother’s vast knowledge to help her through Hogwarts.

***

Ava and Mark were already waiting for Gwen at one of the tables in the library. They were tucked away in a quiet corner, books and scrolls of paper and ink spread out on every inch of the table. Mark was already through an entire roll of parchment while Ava was barely three pages into one of her books. Gwen was ready to join them when a certain someone caught her eye.

Off in another corner, tucked away from the rest of the school, was Richard. He sat with his books neatly around him, a roll of parchment in front of him, and a jar of ink just above it. His quill rested in his hand as he alternated between reading and writing.

Gwen glanced back over to Mark and Ava before she straightened her spine and made a beeline towards Richard. She stopped right beside him, staring down. He paused his writing, glancing up from his paper to stare at her. She gave him a big smile, tilting her head back towards Ava and Mark.

“We’re all studying together. You should join us,” she said. Richard shook his head and went back to reading. Gwen simply continued to stay where she was, rocking back and forth on her heels. Richard let out a sigh, closing his book.

“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Not usually, no,” Gwen replied with a toothy grin. He shook his head before he carefully gathered his stuff and followed her to where Mark and Ava were sitting. “Look who I found!” Both of them looked up, giving Richard an awkward wave before he and Gwen sat down to join them.

It was some time later when all four of them decided they had had enough of looking at notes and books. Dinner was to be served shortly in the Great Hall, and all four of them were starving.

The hallways were once again crowded as everybody made their way to the Great Hall, laughing and talking loudly. Some of the students were in regular clothes from playing outside while others had the same exhausted expressions as Gwen and her friends.

Rounding the corner, the group came upon the twin boys Gwen recognized from the Sorting Ceremony. They were running around the hallway, laughing and pointing at different students. Gwen scrunched her nose slightly as Mark continued to talk about the homework, much to Ava’s annoyance. The boys continued laughing as the group walked past them.

“Oi! Watch out! ‘Ere comes the evilest snake yet!” shouted one of the boys. Gwen stopped in her tracks, whirling around to face the two boys. They were looking directly at Richard, toothy grins on their freckled faces. Gwen frowned, crossing her arms.

“That’s not a nice thing to say,” she told them. They turned to each other before looking over to Gwen. They hunched over laughing and began pointing at Gwen.

“Looky ‘ere George, the snake’s got ‘imself a little puff guardian!”

“Think she needs better friends, Fred,” the other said. “Wouldn’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort now.” Gwen scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“I think I know more about making friends than you do, Geniuses. Now both of you need to apologize. Right now,” she said. A rather large crowd had formed around them, all pointing and whispering to each other. The boys, Fred and George, laughed again. “You’re both being bullies and that’s not okay.”

“Oi! It’s just a bit of fun,” one said.

“Besides, everyone knows Slytherin in the most evil house,” the other said. Gwen narrowed her eyes, her cheeks heating up.

“Gwen, let’s go,” Ava said, tugging at her sleeve while everyone stared. Gwen shrugged her off, tilting her head up.

“From where I’m standing, the only evil ones are you two. Now please, apologize.” One of the boys stepped up to her, looking down his nose at her. He was a good head taller than her, but his height didn’t intimidate her.

“And what’s a firstie like you going to do if we don’t?” he challenged. The entire hallway was silent as they waited with bated breath for what Gwen would do. Gwen’s fists were clenched as she stared at him.

Richard came up to Gwen’s other side, tugging her sleeve and shaking his head. His eyes pleaded with her to drop it.

“It’s not worth it,” he whispered. Gwen relaxed slightly, letting Richard and Ava pull her away from the Gryffindor twins. There was an audible groan of disappointment from the surrounding students.

“Hm, that’s what I thought. Run away like a scared little girl.” Gwen stopped in her tracks, jolting Ava and Richard backwards. She turned around to see the boys bending over and laughing.

Her blood began to boil as her whole face felt as if it would catch fire. She clenched her jaw and rolled up her sleeves. She marched right back to those boys, ignoring her friends’ protests.

The one that had mocked her turned around as she threw a right hook. There was an audible crack as he twirled from the impact and fell to the ground with a resounding thud. The nearby students all let out gasps.

“Guinevere!” her friends shouted. Gwen turned around slowly, her face relaxing from anger to one of pain. She looked down at the boy who was clutching a very bloody nose and crying then to her throbbing hand that was a loud shade of red. She shook her hand, wincing slightly.

“Mr. Weasley! Ms. Reid!” Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, was running down the hallway with Professors McGonagall and Sprout hot on her heels. “What on Earth happened?”

“She’s mental!” the boy cried. “She broke my nose!” The teachers turned to Gwen in shock.

“Is this true, Ms. Reid?” Professor Sprout asked. A wave of guilt washed over Gwen as she bent her head.

“Yes Professor. I punched him,” she admitted. The teachers sputtered out random noises, turning to each other in utter disbelief.

“That is completely unacceptable Ms. Reid,” Professor McGonagall said. “I expect better from you. Twenty points from Hufflepuff.” There was a loud groan from the nearby Hufflepuff students.

“That’s fair,” Gwen said, nodding her head solemnly. “As long as Gryffindor loses points as well.” She nodded her head towards Fred and George.

“Whatever on earth for?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Because they were bullying Richard just because he’s in Slytherin.” Ava and Mark timidly went up to stand by Gwen, nodding along with her words. The teachers turned to Richard, raising their brows.

“Mr. Avery, is that true?” Professor Sprout inquired. He looked at Gwen who gave him a reassuring smile before nodding. The teachers looked at each other before ushering the other students to the Great Hall.

Gwen and the boy she punched were escorted to the hospital wing. She had, in fact, broken his nose. It was swollen and would have a gnarly bruise, but it was nothing Madame Pomfrey couldn’t fix. Gwen’s hand was also swollen and bruised, but she would be fine.

Madame Pomfrey gave her some ice for the swelling, and she was promptly sent to Professor Dumbledore’s office. She was brought to a giant statue where Professor Sprout was waiting for her. She guided Gwen to stand by the statue and followed her.

“Lemon drop.” The statue moved to the side and the wall behind opened to reveal a spiral set of stairs ascending like an escalator. Professor Sprout guided Gwen onto the stairs and followed closely behind her. The wall closed with a solid thud and they continued upwards.

It stopped in front of a large ornate oak door with a griffin for the knocker. Stepping inside, Professor Dumbledore sat behind a large desk with paintings all around him. The paintings moved from frame to frame, whispering and talking to one another.

Along with Professor Dumbledore was Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. Professor Sprout joined Professor McGonagall, turning to face Gwen. Professor Dumbledore gestured to the nearby seats. Gwen sat down, scratching the back of her neck.

“How are you, Ms. Reid?” Professor Dumbledore asked softly. His voice was gentle and soft, almost raspy as he punched a bowl of treats towards Gwen. “I hear you’ve had quite a day.”

“Yes Professor,” Gwen said, happily taking a treat. “I’m sorry to say I was really bad today.” Professor Dumbledore nodded, peering over the rim of his lasses. “I know I shouldn’t have punched him, but he was being really mean. Both of them were. Just because Richard was put into Slytherin doesn’t mean he’s a bad person.”

“While your reasons were noble, Ms. Reid, violence cannot and will not be tolerated,” Professor McGonagall stated. Gwen nodded her head. “I have sent a letter to your parents explaining your—transgression. I expect we’ll both be hearing from them shortly.”

“Ms. Reid, I don’t want you to fear, you won’t be expelled from Hogwarts. We all lose control sometimes, but I do want you to understand the gravity of your situation. I’m afraid I won’t be as lenient as I am now if this should happen again,” Professor Dumbledore said.

“I understand and I’m sorry that I caused such a big problem.”

“On that note dear, I’ve assigned you a week’s worth of detention that Professor Snape will see to.” Professor Snape turned his head at the mention of his name. His face had its usual snarl on it. “Your detention starts on Monday and will end on Friday,” Professor Sprout finished.

“I understand.” Professor Dumbledore nodded his head, gesturing towards Professor Sprout.

“Professor Sprout will escort you back to your common room.” He nodded and Professor Sprout stepped forward. Gwen was almost to the door when he called out to her again. “It would be wise, Ms. Reid, for you to be careful about who you are friends with here at Hogwarts. Not everyone has innocent intentions.”

Gwen tilted her head slightly, giving him an almost pitiful smile. “Of course not Professor, but colors don’t define people.” Gwen said nothing more as Professor Sprout led her back down to the Hufflepuff common room.

Cedric and Tamsin were both seated on the couch. They jumped when Gwen walked through the threshold. They bombarded her with questions and statements about the gossip around the school. Gwen waved them off, falling onto the couch.

“I’m fine, I just got detention, but I know my mom’s going to be so mad. Especially if they don’t go into detail and just say I punched someone. Let’s just say, my parents aren’t too keen when it comes to violence.”

Woof!

Midnight, Gwen’s adopted cat, jumped onto the nearby table, its bright blue eyes focused on Gwen. She reached over, giving him a nice scratch behind the ear, making him pant softly. He jumped down and rubbed his body against the couch before he circled around Cedric and Tamsin. He settled on Gwen’s lap, flicking his tail and back and forth.

Gwen’s stomach growled loudly, startling Midnight off her lap. It also reminded that she hadn’t had a chance to eat almost all day. She let out a sigh, scooping up Midnight and snuggling her face against his soft fur.

“Hey, let’s get something to eat,” Cedric suggested. Gwen and Tamsin looked at him confused.

“You have Doordash here?” Tamsin turned to look at Gwen with even more confusion. “Never mind.”

“I’m not sure what that is, but we can head down to the kitchens. Come on!” Cedric led the girls out of the common room and further down into the basement. There was a hallway lined with different portraits, all filled with different types of food. The further they went, the more their stomachs grumbled.

Finally Cedric stopped at a portrait of a bowl of fruit. Tamsin and Gwen looked at each other before back at Cedric. He reached for the painting and began tickling the pear. Gwen scrunched her nose, looking around the hallway.

The pear began giggling and turned into a green doorknob. Gwen’s mouth fell open as Cedric twisted the knob and pushed the portrait forward.

Inside was a giant kitchen, bigger than any Gwen had ever seen. It was modeled much like the Great Hall was. It had five tables set up the same way. Weird creatures with long elf ears bustled around, cleaning and humming to themselves. Some were preparing what looked like tomorrow’s breakfast.

“Cedric, what are they?” Gwen asked.

“They’re house elves,” Cedric said. “They work for the school. They make the food.”

One of the house elves set a plate of food down for Gwen, bowing its head. Gwen sat down, thanking the creature before diving in. After one bite, she practically inhaled her food. Tamsin occasionally swiped food off her plate, laughing at Gwen’s unhappy grunts.

Once Gwen had had her fill, Tamsin led her back to their dorm. The other girls were already asleep, soft snores filling the room. Midnight was hot on their heels, jumping onto Gwen’s bed and making himself comfortable. Gwen slid into bed, not looking forward to Monday.

***

If detention Monday night wasn’t enough, the letter from Gwen’s mother first thing Sunday morning was enough to ruin the whole week.

Dearest Guinevere,

I have not only received your letter, but a letter from professor McGonagall as well. Your father and I are very disappointed in the actions you have taken thus far. We did not raise you to use violence. You have been taught to talk through your problems and to get an adult before problems escalate.

With that being said, I have taken the liberty to owl the boy’s parents to let them know we are taking this very seriously, and I assured them you will apologize. I will also be having a strongly worded conversation with your Uncle Luke.

On a more positive note, your father and I are thrilled that you seem to be adjusting well outside of this incident. Professor McGonagall made more than one comment on how your outburst was out of character. I assured her you are not like that and that this would be an isolated incident. I expect you to issue a full apology to the boy, and Professor McGonagall shall see that you do.

Your brothers and sister miss you terribly, as do your father and I. We want you to continue to excel with your school work and to make friends. We cannot wait to see you during the Christmas holidays.

With Love,

Mother

Gwen let out a loud groan, resting her forehead on the table. Her appetite had completely left her, and she still had a full day of classes. Tamsin gave her back a reassuring pat.

“It could be worse,” Cedric said, stuffing his face with French toast. Gwen turned her head to face him.

“I have to apologize to the boy I punched.” Cedric drew his mouth into a thin line, looking down at his breakfast. Gwen let out another groan. “I shouldn’t have to apologize to him. He deserved it.” Tamsin shrugged.

“What can you do?”

Unfortunately for Gwen, there was absolutely nothing she could do. Her mother and Professor McGonagall had been very clear on their feelings about Gwen’s actions. She spent all Sunday afternoon practicing her apology to the Weasley twins. It was like she was having to apologize for her sibling’s problems.

Ava and Mark thought Gwen having to apologize was unfair, especially considering those boys had started it. Plus with all the horror stories they’d heard about detention with Professor Snape, those boys should have been apologizing to her. Richard said nothing about his opinions on the topic. Instead, he focused on helping Gwen’s apology sound authentic.

Monday morning classes were torture for poor Gwen. She found herself having a hard time concentrating, She spent her first two periods practicing her apology while Professor Binns went on about whatever event they were covering in class. She’d get the notes from Mark later.

Before she went to lunch, she met with Professor McGonagall to go and apologize to the Weasley boy. She led Gwen to her office where Fred and George Weasley sat in front of her desk. They both turned to watch Gwen as she entered.

Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk and motioned for Gwen to take a seat. Gwen sat, folding her hands in her lap. Professor McGonagall tilted her head down, peering over her glasses to stare at Gwen. It was the same stare technique her mother used when she thought her kids weren’t being truthful, and it always succeeded in divulging the truth.

“When you’re ready, Ms. Reid,” Professor McGonagall said. Gwen turned in her seat to face the Weasley boys. The one closer to her, Fred, had a bit of a smug look on his face that made Gwen’s blood boil. The other twin, George, was tucked behind his brother, a little less smug than his twin. Gwen took a deep breath, straightening her back and looking Fred in the eyes.

“Fred Weasley, I am sorry that I used violence during our—dispute. It was wrong and immature. I should have used my words, and for that, I’m truly sorry.” There was a brief moment of silence before Fred stood and extended his hand. Gwen followed suit and clasped his hand.

“It’s alright, Gwenny ol’ girl. Water under the bridge,” he said, the same smirk from the hallway on his face now. Gwen bit her tongue, glancing over to his brother. She knew right then and there, this would not be the last time the three of them collided heads.

#haveanotherfandomblog post #roses and thorns #aftermath series #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley headcanon #george weasley x you #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley smut #george weasley fluff #george weasley x fem #george weasley x y/n #george weasley one shot #george weasley x reader #george weasley x oc #george weasley series #george weasley drabble #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley blurb #drarry #harry x draco #cedric diggory

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Fiery Passions

Part 1: Argentina

Pairing: Benny Weir x POC!OC, Rodrick Heffley x POC!OC

Genre: Angst, Non-Supernatural!AU, Fluff

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: Mild Language, Minor Character Death

Masterlist || Next>>

August 19, 2018

Today was a beautiful day for a funeral. For such a miserable day, everything seemed brighter--happier. The grass was more verdant than it had been yesterday, the birds chirped a cheery tune as the casket was lowered into the grave. The yellow and white roses seemed to have captured the sunlight perfectly as they rested on the closed casket. The world was often described as being duller with the loss of a loved one, but this was far from the truth. While we wallowed in self-pity and grief, the world around us does not seem to share our loss. It glows as if nothing happened, mocking our sorrow with its bright and joyous life.

Our young protagonist, Argentina Castillo, had seen death only once before. She was nine years old when she lost her mother. After battling cancer, and the physical strain of giving birth to her youngest brother, it was only a couple months before death took her mother. Her little brother had never really known his mother, and her younger sister barely remembered her. They did, however, remember their grandfather. After the passing of their mother, their grandfather had taken in his five grandchildren. Argentina, her two older siblings, and her two younger siblings. He had helped them with her passing, even though his own heart broke having to bury his child.

For eight years, they were their own happy, little family. Eight years, which had seemed like such a long time, had been turned into a fleeting moment. Argentina watched as they lowered her grandfather into the grave, right next to her mother’s, remembering times of laughter and unbridled joy. As she watched the casket disappear from view, it felt like those memories would be buried with him.

“The Castillo children?” a man asked. Argentina’s older brother, Joaquin, turned to the stranger who stood awkwardly near the children. The stranger was short and skinny. His eyes seemed to pop out of his oddly shaped head. He wore a long, grey coat that seemed too heavy for his scrawny body. His hand was wrapped tightly around the handle of a black, leather suitcase.

“Who’s asking?” Joaquin inquired. He moved to stand in front of his two youngest siblings. Joaquin easily towered over the stranger, his arms crossed over his chest. He had giant muscles that strained against the restraining fabric of his black dress shirt. His narrowed gaze seemed to see straight through the short man. Even though he hadn’t shed a single tear during the entire ceremony, his eyes were bloodshot and tired. This whole situation had aged him well past twenty-three.

“My name is Carnie Wilson,” the man said, shifting from foot to foot as he nervously glanced up at the giant Joaquin. “I’m from New York, in America. Let me first offer my condolences for your loss.” His other hand fidgeted at his side, shaking slightly. “I have come on behalf of your last living relative.”

“We just buried our last living relative.” Argentina’s older sister, Xiomara, had stepped beside Joaquin, her hands wrapped around herself. She was wearing one of their mother’s old dresses. Her hair was lazily pulled away from her face, tears staining her cheeks. “Besides, we don’t have any American relatives.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but that isn’t true. You are, in fact, related to one Mr. Beckett. He’s your--uncle,” Mr. Wilson told them. The Castillo children looked at each other confused.

“Our mother doesn’t have a brother. She was an only child,” Xiomara said.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Mr. Wilson said. His eyes darted between Joaquin and Xiomara, briefly falling onto the other three Castillo children. “However, your father had a brother.” There was a moment of shocked silence as Mr. Wilson’s words sunk in. He offered them a tight-lipped smile. “I know this is a lot to take in. Perhaps there’s some place where we can talk privately?” Joaquin nodded.

It was some time before the Castillo children and Mr. Wilson were able to return to the Castillo residence. Their entire small town in Guatemala had come to the funeral. Their grandfather had been loved by so many others. Each person told a different story about how helpful and thoughtful their grandfather had been. Each story pulled at Argentina’s heart, filling her with sorrow and visibly upsetting her sensitive, little sister, Esmeralda.

“Now that we’re somewhere private, do you have any questions?” Mr. Wilson asked, sipping the tea Xiomara had served him.

“I have a few. First off, how did you find us?” Joaquin asked, his arms folded over his chest as he sat back in his chair. “As far as we know, our father died shortly after our mother returned from America. He didn’t know we existed, so how did you know where to find us?”

“Why don’t you two go play,” Xiomara suggested to Esmeralda and their youngest sibling, Rafael. While Argentina knew that Esmeralda no longer “played”, Esmeralda understood the true intentions behind her oldest sister’s words. She grabbed onto Rafael’s hand and led him into the living room. Joaquin didn’t take his eyes away from Mr. Wilson, watching as he took another nervous sip of the tea, his eyes wandering around the tiny kitchen.

“Yes, it’s a rather unique set of circumstances,” Mr. Wilson began. “Your--uncle received a letter upon the request of Mr. Mateo Castillo’s will. It gave a detailed account on who you were and that you’d need a guardian to look after you. We simply followed the sender’s address to find you.”

“I can look after my own family,” Joaquin said, an edge to his voice. Xiomara put a hand on his shoulder. “Besides, our grandfather would have told us if he knew our uncle. The Castillo’s don’t keep secrets.” Mr. Wilson watched Joaquin carefully, a glint in those nervous eyes that didn’t quite sit right with Argentina.

“I’m sure your grandfather had his reasons for not saying anything. Unfortunately, I don’t know, for sure, those reasons, but if I were to guess, I would assume it was the same reason your mother didn’t tell your father about you,” Mr. Wilson said. He glanced down at the cup, his spine straightening, though it didn’t make him any more imposing than a blade of grass. “While you and Ms. Xiomara Castillo are both of legal age to take care of yourselves, Ms. Argentina Castillo, Ms. Esmeralda Castillo, and Mr. Rafael Castillo are still minors and henceforth will be transferred to the custody of their uncle. You could sue for custody, but as Mr. Beckett’s attorney, I would advise against it. He has quite a sum of money.”

Joaquin clenched his jaw, his gaze narrowing on the small, fragile frame of Mr. Wilson. Argentina was perfectly okay with watching her brother tear him into pieces. It certainly wouldn’t take him long to do so. Xiomara squeezed his shoulder, her eyes on Mr. Wilson.

“Are Joaquin and I allowed to join our siblings in America?” she inquired. Mr. Wilson straightened his spine, sparing a fleeting glance towards Joaquin and Argentina.

“As per the request of the late Mr. Mateo Castillo, Mr. Beckett has extended an invitation to you both,” Mr. Wilson said. He set his briefcase, which had been sitting in his lap, onto the table. He opened it up and produced five tickets. “You are scheduled to leave at the end of the week. Pack as much as you can, and Mr. Beckett will send someone for the rest of your things.” He set the tickets on the table before snapping his briefcase shut. He pulled at his coat, standing up from the table. He nodded his head once before leaving the house.

Xiomara wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the kitchen counter. Joaquin let himself relax as well, leaning forward to run a tired hand through his dark locks. Xiomara took a seat between him and Argentina. Argentina was staring at the plane tickets on the table, rage filling her heart the longer she stared.

“Think of it this way,” Xiomara said. “At least we’ll be together. That’s what’s most important. The Castillo’s stick together, no matter what.” She had a tendency to look at the bright side of things. Argentina knew that no matter what darkness was thrown their way, she could trust Xiomara to be there as a beacon of light. She pulled Joaquin and Argentina into a little group hug. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

August 24, 2018

The end of the week came sooner than Argentina had been hoping. Their week had been filled with goodbyes and packing. Xiomara had made sure to pack enough clothes for everyone and some precious family mementos that she wanted to make sure made it to America. They didn’t own a lot of stuff to begin with, but leaving the house behind with some of their possessions still in there felt wrong, but there was nothing that could be done. They couldn’t exactly pack the house onto the plane, or the cab.

None of them had ever been on a plane before. Argentina sat next to Esmeralda in the middle row of the plane. Across the aisle was Xiomara, Rafel, and Joaquin. Rafael bounced excitedly in his seat, peeking around Joaquin’s large frame to stare out the window as they waited for the plane to depart. Joaquin was staring out the window. While she couldn’t directly see his face, Argentina could see the melancholy, slightly glazed expression on his face through his reflection in the glass.

Xiomara was doing her best to keep Rafael as calm as possible, reminding him to mind his manners and be respectful while she shot nervous glances at Joaquin. Esmeralda had her nose buried in a book, her knuckle white from her grip as she ignored everyone and everything around her. Argentina let out a silent sigh, simply putting in her earbuds. She let Black Sabbath and Metallica take her to her own happy place where she was still in Guatemala with her siblings and grandfather.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they arrived in New York. Unlike their small town, New York was filled to the brim with people. Joaquin immediately grabbed onto Esmeralda and Rafael, keeping them close as people bustled around them. Xiomara and Argentina went to look for their bags, receiving odd and curious looks as they did so. They huddled together awkwardly, wondering what was supposed to happen now.

“Look over there,” Esmeralda said, pointing towards a man with thin-rimmed glasses and a funny hat. He stood at a semi-empty space, holding a sign that simply read, “Castillo”. The Castillo children awkwardly made their way to the funny-dressed man. Argentina felt uncomfortable in the terminal. Unlike most people who were tall, pale, and spoke with the stereotypical New York accent she’d heard on tv, the Castillo were a dark shade of brown from spending time out in the sun and from their Mayan heritage. Their hair was as black as ebony and their eyes were the same dark brown color as the earth.

“Welcome,” the man said. He didn’t have the accent other people in the terminal had. His voice was deeper than Joaquin’s and up close, Argentina could see the grey eyes that seemed to peer through to her very soul. His piercing gaze reminded her of her grandfather’s: sharp and knowing. Under his gaze, she felt like all her secrets and private thoughts were out on display. “I have been sent to retrieve you for Mr. Beckett. I am the caretaker of his estate and the butler, Mr. Winsby.”

“Why didn’t our uncle come and ‘retrieve’ us?” Joaquin asked, sizing Mr. Winsby up. Joaquin’s English was the best out of the Castillo children. Xiomara and Argentina could speak it well, but they had incredibly thick accents. Esmeralda was better at understanding, and Rafael had only just begun to learn. Mr. Winsby didn’t flinch under Joaquin’s gaze. His face remained completely neutral, but there was a knowing twinkle in his eye.

“Mr. Beckett is in an important business meeting. While he wishes he could be here, business is business. He will be back at five-fifty for dinner which will be served at six p.m. sharp,” Mr. Winsby said. The Castillo children exchanged glances with each other before looking back at Mr. Winsby. “Now come along. I’m sure you’d like some food and some rest before dinner.”

With that, Mr. Winsby turned on his heel and began to walk away, the Castillo sign tucked under his arm. The Castillo children chased after him, for an old man, he was rather fast. Mr. Winsby led them to a big, black, SUV. The Castillo's paused their movements, staring at the car. Because their town was so small, and their grandfather believed that walking was good for your heart, the Castillo children had never been in a big car. Most people in their town didn’t have cars.

Mr. Winsby came to them and took their bags, loading them into the back of the car. He ushered the children into the vehicle and took off away from the terminal. The leather seat was unusually cold against Argentina’s skin. She focused her gaze out the window, watching as New York City disappeared and made way for the smaller towns upstate. Argentina was happy they weren’t living in the city, and that little bit of familiarity she felt brought her some comfort.

It wasn’t long before the Castillo children and Mr. Winsby arrived at their new home. A small town named Whitechapel. Driving down the roads, Argentina was able to glimpse into life in the small town. Children played out in their yards, adults talked and laughed with one another, older kids walked down the streets. Whitechapel reminded her of her home in Guatemala, and a brief hope of a similar life passed through her.

Her hope was immediately crushed when Mr. Winsby pulled into the driveway of their uncle’s house. It was more of a manor than a house, and Mr. Winsby was right to refer to it as an estate. This was definitely the richer part of the small town. Argentina stared at the house in disgust. Why would someone who supposedly lived alone need such an obnoxiously large house.

“Come on guys, let’s get our stuff moved--” Xiomara trailed off as three women came towards the car. They grabbed the Castillo children’s bags without a single word and began taking it into the house. They watched as the women disappeared into the house. “Oh. Okay then. Um, how about we go see the house,” she suggested. Argentina rolled her eyes before climbing out of the car.

“Do you think the house has secret tunnels?” Rafael asked. Argentina cracked a smile, turning to look at her little brother.

“Probably. I bet it’s full of skeletons and creepy, giant bugs,” she said, moving to tickle him. He let out a loud squeal, squirming away from her ticklish touch.

“Children! This way please,” Mr. Winsby called, peering over his glasses. His gaze was focused on Argentina, but she could see the hint of amusement in his eyes. She turned around so Rafael could hop on her back. Once he was situated, they followed their other siblings into the house.

The inside of the house was, in short, grand. There was a large entryway that led straight to a grand staircase. The floor and staircase was a white marble that had a black carpet as a walking path. A fancy chandelier hung from the giant ceiling. Mr. Winsby stood at attention in front of a long line of people, his hands clasped behind his back. The Castillo children hung back at the door patiently, watching Mr. Winsby carefully.

“Children, allow me to introduce you to the household staff. As you know, I am Mr. Winsby. This is Mrs. Lockley, she is the head of the staff and will be one of your caretakers. This is Ms. Jiang, she is the head chef. The three women you’ll recognize from grabbing your bags are Ms. Clark, Ms. Taylor, and Ms. Addams. They are also your caretakers as well as maids. Should you need something, you are to ask one of them, Mrs. Lockley, or me for it. Are we understanding?” The children nodded. He went on to introduce the other cooks and maids and gardeners and other weird job holders that Argentina had no interest in memorizing. “Now that introductions are done, Mrs. Lockley will take over. I have business to attend to.” Mr. Winsby offered a curt nod to Mrs. Lockley before exiting through a side door.

Mrs. Lockley was an old lady. She had fair skin with lots of wrinkles. She had grey hair and light blue eyes. She stared at the kids, an all-knowing glint in her eye. Argentina wondered briefly if this was what her grandmother had been like.

Rafael began giggling uncontrollably, catching her off-guard. Xiomara lightly tapped his shoulder, shaking her head. He covered his mouth with his hands, but his giggles still escaped him. Mrs. Lockley arched one of her thin brows, her head tilting down to stare at Rafael.

“Do you find something funny?” Mrs. Lockley inquired. Her voice was soft but sharp. It reminded Argentina of when their grandfather would scold them in public. He never raised his voice, least of all in public.

“Her hair looks like cotton candy!” Rafael giggled in Spanish. Esmeralda and Argentina snickered under their breath, looking at poor Mrs. Lockley who didn’t seem to understand Spanish in the least bit. Joaquin shot the girls a pointed look, subtly shaking his head as a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Rafael! Don’t be rude!” Xiomara scolded in Spanish. She gave Mrs. Lockley a small smile. “Excuse him, Senora Lockley. He is still just a baby.” Mrs. Lockley nodded at Xiomara, sparing Rafael a pointed look. He had stopped giggling, biting his lips together. He offered her an innocent smile, his dark curls hanging loosely across his forehead.

“Follow me, children. I will show you to your rooms. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up before dinner. Ms. Jiang has also been kind enough to leave something for you to snack on,” Mrs. Lockley said. She led the children up the grand staircase and to the right. She kept her hands clasped behind her back as she turned to face the children briefly. “Directly across from us is the West Wing. You are to never, under any circumstances, enter the West Wing. Everything you need is in the East Wing or on the first floor.”

“What’s in the West Wing?” Argentina inquired. Mrs. Lockley pursed her lips.

“That would be where Mr. Beckett’s room and study are. You are not to go to the West Wing. Ever.” She gave each child a pointed look. She turned on her heel and continued up the right side stairs, her steps muffled by the carpet. The children looked at each other before continuing to follow her up the stairs.

The top of the stairs led to a dead end and a hallway that stretched far on either side. She turned right and kept walking. The children followed her until she stopped at a door on the left of the hallway, identical to the other doors in the hallway.

“This will be your room, Mr. Castillo,” Mrs. Lockley said. She opened the door, pushing it inside to reveal a very plain looking room. The walls were a light grey with nothing on them. A bed, bigger than any the children had ever seen, was pushed against one side of the room. The bed sheets were dark blue and looked rather expensive. Across from the bed was a desk with a chair and a lamp. On one wall, next to the window, was a bookshelf full of old books.

“I get--all of this--to myself?” Joaquin said, taking a step inside the room. Mrs. Lockley looked at him with a scrunched up face.

“Of course. You’re a grown man who needs his own space,” she replied. Joaquin nodded, letting out a low whistle. “The young Mr. Castillo’s room is right next door.” She opened the next door, revealing a room like Joaquin’s, only it was bare of the desk and bookshelf. On the bed sat a brown teddy bear. Rafael ran past everyone, jumping on the bed. Mrs. Lockley said nothing as she went to the door across from theirs. “This is the bathroom for you both.” She turned to the Castillo girls. “Follow me.”

She led the girls back down the hallway, past the stairs, and down the opposite hallway. The girls struggled to keep up with her fast pace. For an old lady, she was a fast walker. She stopped abruptly, gesturing to a door on the right side of the hallway. She looked directly at Xiomara.

“Ms. Castillo, this will be your room.” Xiomara opened the door slowly, letting the door swing softly into the room. The room was almost identical to Joaquin’s. However, unlike his, her room didn’t have a bookcase, and instead of the desk being across from her bed, it was along the same wall, leaving a wide, empty space for her.

“Wow. This is amazing,” Xiomara said, stepping inside to fully appreciate her room. Mrs. Lockley smiled softly, nodding her head thoughtfully. She moved to the next door.

“This room is for the youngest Ms. Castillo.” Esmeralda looked at Argentina before entering the room to take a look. It resembled Joaquin’s room the most, only it had more bookshelves than his. She looked back to Mrs. Lockley before stepping into the room.

“Why do we have to have separate rooms? And why are we so far away from the boys? I don’t like it here. I want to go back home,” Esmeralda said, her Spanish coming out in one long breath. Xiomara emerged from her room, leaning against the door frame.

“I know it’s a big adjustment, but you’ll get used to it. I’m right next door,” Xiomara assured her. Esmeralda stuck out her bottom lip, moving to Xiomara’s comforting embrace. Mrs. Lockley watched, confused at the scene unfolding before her. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just homesickness,” she said to Mrs. Lockley.

“Which one is my room?” Argentina inquired. Mrs. Lockley straightened her spine and beckoned for Argentina to follow. She continued down the hallway, taking a sharp left into a hallway identical to the one they’d just been in. At the end of the hallway was a door that was different from her siblings’ doors. Argentina’s steps slowed as she approached the door. Mrs. Lockley opened it to reveal a set of stairs that spiraled up.

“A--special--request was put in on your behalf,” Mrs. Lockley said. Argentina quirked a brow before slowly ascending the stairs.

The stairs led to another door. She opened the door to reveal a room just like her siblings, only, it wasn’t exactly like theirs. There was a bed on a wire frame pushed against the side of the room with a giant vanity across from it. On one side of the bed was a small desk, the other side was a night stand. Across from the door was a giant window with curtains. Walking across the bedroom, she threw open the curtains.

Outside the window she could see the house next door. Peering out the window, she saw a bunch of vines snaking up the side of both houses. She looked down and saw a big lawn with hedges. She figured she was in the back of the house. She glanced back up at the house and noticed a window directly across from hers. Inside, a little off to the side, she could make out two boys around her age sitting on a bed. They had game controllers in their hands and headphones on their heads.

One of the boys happened to look over and spot Argentina through the window. His eyes went wide as he frantically tapped the other boy, eyes locked onto hers. The second boy rolled his eyes, looking at his friend annoyed. The first boy pointed towards Argentina. The second boy followed his friend’s gaze until his eyes too landed on Argentina. Once their eyes connected, his jaw unhinged completely. Both boys freaked out before dropping out of view. Furrowing her brows, Argentina shut her curtains. She definitely wouldn’t be opening them again.

Turning around, she was greeted with the sight of one of the maids bringing up her bag and a plate of fruit. The maid set the plate on the nightstand and the bag at the end of the bed. She certainly didn’t look like a maid. She actually looked like she was Xiomara’s age, making her around eighteen or nineteen.

“Thank you, for bringing me my bag, I wasn’t sure where it had been taken,” Argentina said, her Guatemalan accent thick. The maid gave her a crooked grin, patting the bag.

“It was no trouble, really. Compared to your little sister’s bag, yours was nuttin’.” The maid’s accent was like the ones she heard on tv, but not as aggressive. She had a slight tan and long, dark brown hair. It was pulled away from her face and rested in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She had light brown eyes that glowed in the light. “Did you need anything else Ms. Castillo?”

“Uh, no, but you don’t have to address me like that,” Argentina said. “I don’t think anyone’s ever referred to me with such… formality. Argentina is fine.” The maid nodded, giving her another smile.

“Then feel free to just call me Clara.” She stuck out her hand for Argentina. They shook, sharing a smile. “So um, how are you? I was told your grandfather passed away,” Clara said. Argentina nodded, moving to sit on her bed.

“Uh, yeah. He passed away a couple weeks ago, a bad heart,” Argentina said. She paused briefly, looking over to the vanity. “I didn’t know I had an uncle. What’s he like? Sr. Beckett?” Clara blinked, caught off guard by her question.

“Oh! Um, Mr. Beckett is--nice. I don’t really know him too well. I’ve seen him around though. He doesn’t seem too bad,” Clara said, twiddling with her thumbs. Argentina stared at Clara, tilting her head to the side. Clara avoided eye contact, her eyes shifting around the room.

Outside her door, Argentina could hear a commotion coming up the stairs. The rest of her siblings came barreling in. Clara jumped slightly at their intrusion. Rafael ran to Argentina, scrambling up her bed to sit on her lap. Two more women, the other two from grabbing their bags, followed shortly after the children. They hunched over, breathing heavily.

“Let me introduce Ms. Clark and Ms. Taylor,” Clara said, pointing to each woman. Ms. Clark was a young, pretty woman with light brown hair that was pulled away from her face. A few loose whisps escaped her bun, framing her face naturally. She had light brown eyes that had wrinkles around the creases, aging her more than she likely was.

Ms. Taylor was another young woman, close to Joaquin’s age. She had long blonde hair that she had pulled back into a braid. She had pale blue eyes and a long, wide nose. Her skin was pale and covered in tiny freckles.

“You… all… run… surprisingly fast,” Ms. Clark panted. She stood up straight, letting out a loud breath. Xiomara chuckled, shaking her head.

“We have to keep you, what’s the phrase, on your toes?” she said, shooting Ms. Clark a wink. Ms. Clark tilted her head, blowing out a big puff of air. Xiomara smirked.

“Who are the weirdos next door?” Esmeralda stood in front of the window, the curtains thrown open. The two boys from across the yard stood in the window, flexing as hard as they could--their sleeves rolled up as far as possible. Xiomara and Joaquin rushed to the window to see what Esmeralda was looking at. Xiomara raised both her brows, her mouth falling open slightly. Joaquin began laughing so hard he clung to his sides, doubling over.

When they saw Xiomara, they stopped moving. Their jaws dropped all the way to the floor as they drank in the sight of her. Argentina rolled her eyes, stepping over a still laughing Joaquin and pushing past Xiomara and Esmeralda. She gave the boys a sharp glare before closing the curtains again.

“Who lives over there?” Xiomara inquired, picking Rafael up and setting him on her hip. He hugged her excitedly, burying his head in the crook of her neck. She rubbed his back, moving to sit on Argentina’s bed.

“Evelyn Weir,” Ms. Taylor said. The Castillo children looked at her expectantly. “Mrs. Weir is one of the oldest residences of Whitechapel. She’s lived in that house her whole life. She lives with her son and grandson. She’s really nice. Everyone just calls her Grandma Weir.”

“But there were two boys in the window,” Esmeralda said.

“Probably just one of his friends.”

“You have such a nice room,” Joaquin commented, changing the topic. “Sr. Beckett has very nice taste.” He looked around the room, nodding his head. “Although your room is a bit far from everyone else’s.”

“Sorry, that’s my fault actually,” Clara said. Argentina cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her to explain. “Well, Mr. Beckett hired me after hearing about you. I was s’posed to take care of Argentina. I was explorin’ the house when I found this room. Took a quick peek and thought you’d like it. Course, I didn’t know about the neighbor boys.”

Argentina didn’t have anything to say. She rarely spoke nowadays. Ever since the funeral, she’s done her best to keep quiet, listening to everyone else fill the silence. Xiomara would occasionally try to coax her into conversations, but one pointed look from Argentina stopped her.

“Well, I think that’s enough of that,” Ms. Clark said. “We still need to get everyone prepped for dinner.” She ushered everyone out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. Clara glanced at Argentina before clapping her hands together.

“Welp, now that that’s been taken care of, let’s get you ready for dinner,” she said, jumping from the bed.

“Why? I’m already dressed.” Clara offered her a bashful smile, rubbing the back of her neck. She looked around, as if checking to see if there was anyone secretly listening.

“Let me tell you, while I think you look perfectly fine as you are, Mr. Beckett is, well, he’s kind of a socialite. He dines with senators and CEO’s and other big, important people. He expects a level of--fanciness--with his meals. Mrs. Lockley, while understanding not everyone dresses like Mr. Beckett, has asked me to make sure you look your absolute best.”

Argentina crossed her arms, jutting her hip out.

“And what’s wrong with the way I dress? I’ll have you know that all my clothes look exactly like this. Sorry I don’t conform to your American style, but I am not American. I am Guatemalan and I refuse to have my culture stripped from me in favor of some--some--pendejo.” Clara blinked, quite a few times. She took a deep breath before rejoining Argentina on the bed.

“I have no idea what a ‘pendejo’ is, but I do know one thing, you’re probably right.” Argentina couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing, leaning forward as she clutched her sides. Was that how she sounded speaking English? How did everyone not laugh at her? Clara smiled, rubbing Argentina’s back. “There we go. Now I know it’s not desirable, but can I help get you ready for dinner?”

She wanted to say no. She wanted to tell Clara she wouldn’t be joining them for dinner. She wanted to go back to Guatemala and pretend she never met anyone or saw anything. She couldn’t. Her siblings needed her, what’s more, this was the only connection she had left of her father. She’d always been curious about him, what he was like, what kind of man he was.

It was these thoughts that allowed Argentina to silently concede to Clara’s request. And while Clara obviously knew very little about the styles of Guatemala, she certainly didn’t do half bad. She pulled Argentina’s hair back into a single braid, letting it fall over her shoulder. She hadn’t bothered with makeup, only dabbing something on her face to hide the bags under her eyes.

“This is beautiful.” Argentina watched Clara through the mirror as she pulled one of her Sunday dresses out of her suitcase. It was beautiful, a white top with a magenta skirt that had vertical stripes going down the length of the skirt.

“Thank you. It was my mother’s. My abuelo told me she--she used to wear it almost every Sunday. I usually wear it for special services,” Argentina said, tearing her eyes away from the dress. There was shuffling behind her. She glanced up and saw Clara had pulled out a different dress.

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” Clara slipped out of the room, leaving Argentina alone once again. She sat on her bed, staring blankly at the wall. A loud noise drew her attention back once again to the window. Standing up, she slightly moved the curtain to peek into the house next door. The boys were back at their videogame, yelling at the tv and smashing their fingers against the controllers. She let the curtain fall shut, moving to put the dress on.

Staring at herself in the vanity mirror, this was the first time any effort had been put into her appearance since her grandfather’s death. She could barely bring herself to smile anymore, and if she did, it didn’t reach her eyes. Xiomara assured her she did the exact same thing when their mother died, but she eventually grew out of it. However, back then she had her grandfather to help her.

There was a quick knock at her door before Clara poked her head in, offering a small smile before pushing the door opened farther. She too had changed her clothes. She was now in black pants and a white button down shirt. She had minimal makeup on and wore almost no jewelry.

Argentina followed Clara down the stairs, through the hallways of the East Wing, and back to the main entrance. They took a right which led them to a giant dining room. A large table with more chairs than people sat in the middle. All around the room were old, antique paintings. Two chandeliers hung from the ceiling. They were tinier than the one in the main entrance and had a more rustic look to them.

Clara sat her near the middle of the table before stepping off into a different door. A few moments later, she was joined by Xiomara, Rafael, and Ms. Clark. Ms. Clark was dressed identical to Clara. The tiny wisps that had surrounded her face had been pulled neatly back. Even her makeup matched Clara’s.

Xiomara and Rafael were also dressed in their Sunday outfits. Xiomara had her hair pulled into a low bun, her makeup subtle. She fixed the sleeves of her shirt, sitting a few seats down to the right of Argentina. Rafael sat across from Argentina, fiddling with the strings of his colorful shirt. A giant, ugly, center-piece sat between Argentina and Rafael. He reached to touch it, but Xiomara stopped him, giving him a pointed look. She turned to Argentina, her brows furrowed. Argentina shrugged, waiting for the rest of their siblings.

It was another few moments before Ms. Taylor appeared with Esmeralda and Joaquin in tow, dressed in their best Sunday apparel. Ms. Taylor sat Joaquin across from Xiomara, next to Rafael. Esmeralda was seated on the other side of Argentina, multiple chairs between them. Joaquin gave Xiomara a questioning look, but she just shrugged in response.

Ms. Taylor smoothed out her outfit, which was identical to Clara’s and Ms. Clark’s, before disappearing into the door the aforementioned had exited through. Argentina slumped against her seat, staring around the dining room. This felt more like a fancy, formal, dining event than a supposed family dinner.

Mr. Winsby and Mrs. Lockley entered the dining room shortly after Ms. Taylor’s departure. Unlike the other three, their outfits were considerably more classic. Mr. Winsby wore a black suit with a white shirt, a colorful waistcoat, and a black bow tie. Mrs. Lockley also wore a suit. Hers was a light bluish-grey and more flowy than Mr. Winsby’s stiff suit.

“Now children, we’re going to go over some rules before Mr. Beckett arrives,” Mrs. Lockley began. Joaquin turned to Rafael, murmuring the translations. “Yes, good thinking Mr. Castillo. Thank you. Now, firstly, when Mr. Beckett arrives, you are to stand and stay standing until he has taken his seat. You are to thank him for his hospitality, you are guests after all. After that, you are not to speak unless spoken to. Should Mr. Beckett speak to you, you are to address him as Mr. Beckett.”

The front door opened and was followed by a loud slam. Mrs. Lockley straightened herself out and moved so she was pressed against the wall, quiet as a mouse. Mr. Winsby exited the dining room towards the main entrance. Argentina looked to Xiomara as muffled voices traveled through to the dining room. Xiomara shrugged, glancing over to Joaquin. They quickly stood as footsteps approached the doors. Mr. Winsby opened the door, folding his arms behind his back.

“Mr. Beckett, the Castillo children.” Mr. Winsby stepped aside to allow Mr. Beckett through the door. He looked rather young for a middle-aged man. He had thick, black hair and piercing blue eyes. On his face was a beard that reminded Argentina of Obi Wan Kenobi from the Star Wars movies. He wore a business suit that was dark blue.

He paused when his eyes fell onto the children, almost as if he was frozen in time. His eyes swept over each child. He glanced over to Mrs. Lockley and quickly cleared his throat. He didn’t say a word as he made his way to the head of the table. He took long strides and sat closest to Xiomara and Joaquin. Once he was seated, the Castillo children sat.

“It was kind of you to take us in, Sr. Beckett, including me and Joaquin,” Xiomara said, a soft smile on her lips. Mr. Beckett nodded, his movements stiff. He tilted his head slightly as he stared at her.

“We’re family. It’s what I’m supposed to do,” he said. Argentina bit her tongue, keeping her gaze down. His statement rubbed her wrong, but she didn’t want to be rude. He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I hope you traveled well.” Xiomara glanced up to Joaquin, jerking her head slightly.

“Um, yes. The plane ride was very nice. As was the car ride here. This is a beautiful town, Senor Beckett,” he said, looking to Xiomara for support. Mr. Beckett nodded again. Behind him, a clock struck six o’clock and without missing a beat, Ms. Clark, Ms. Taylor, and Clara entered, carrying two silver dinner dishes each.

Ms. Clark set her dishes in front of Rafael and Joaquin, Ms. Taylor set hers in front of Mr. Beckett and Xiomara, and Clara set hers in front of Argentina and Esmeralda. Then the three girls disappeared as quietly as they came back into the door. Mr. Beckett wasted no time beginning to cut into his meal. Rafael grabbed onto Joaquin’s hand expectantly, closing his eyes and bowing his head. Mr. Beckett paused, glancing at the youngest Castillo before looking around at the other children.

“What’s he doing?” he asked.

“Nothing, Senor Beckett. It’s just… we usually pray before we eat,” Xiomara said. Mr. Beckett nodded thoughtfully before setting down his silverware.

“Of course. How rude of me not to ask about that. Please, don’t let me stop you,” he said. Esmeralda grabbed onto Argentina’s left hand and bent her head. Xiomara grabbed onto her other hand before holding a hand out for Mr. Beckett’s. He blinked multiple times, staring down at her hand. She didn’t move until he eventually grabbed her hand. Joaquin reached for his other one and bent his head and began the prayer.

“Bendícenos, oh Señor, y estos, Tus dones, que estamos a punto de recibir de Tu generosidad. Por Cristo, nuestro Señor. Amén.”

“Amén.” The Castillo children lifted their heads and began to enjoy the meal Mr. Beckett had offered them. Every once in a while Mrs. Lockley would step forward to help Rafael with his food. While the kids ate, Argentina noticed Mr. Beckett studying each child. From the corner of her eye, she watched him observe her siblings then herself.

She wondered if it was weird for him, to see kids that looked like his dead brother. She noticed subtle similarities between him and her siblings. She could finally see where they got their thick, black hair and sharp noses. Were there other similarities he could see that she couldn’t? Did he see their mother in them? Had he even met their mother?

These questions circled around her head, but she didn’t dare to ask them. Instead, dinner was quiet, as he didn’t ask any questions, the children weren’t permitted to talk. Eventually their plates were clear and the girls reappeared. Rafael turned to look Mr. Beckett right square in the eye.

“What’s for dessert?” Rafael asked in Spanish. Xiomara quietly scolded him for his bold request. Mr. Beckett stared at Rafael for some time in quiet contemplation. Rafael stared back with an innocent gaze, occasionally sparing glances to Joaquin.

“Whatever the young man desires,” Mr. Beckett responded in perfect Spanish. Rafael clapped excitedly, turning to tug on Joaquin’s sleeve as the other children stared at Mr. Beckett with wide eyes.

“I wasn’t aware you spoke Spanish,” Xiomara commented. “You speak it very well.”

“Thank you. I have found that being bilingual in my position comes quite in handy,” Mr. Beckett said. He glanced down at his watch, frowning slightly. It was made of gold and looked like it could pay for two months worth of meals in Guatemala. “If you’ll excuse me, I have important phone calls I need to make. Mrs. Lockley, see that the young man receives his dessert. Buenas noches, Castillo children.” Mr. Beckett didn’t wait for a response before he disappeared out the door, Mr. Winsby hot on his tail

“Is he always so… detached?” Xiomara inquired, trying her best not to offend him in case he could still hear. Mrs. Lockley pursed her lips but didn’t respond. “I will take that as a yes.” The children joined hands once more for their after meal prayer.

“Te damos gracias por todos tus beneficios, oh Dios Todopoderoso, que vives y reinas en el mundo sin fin. Amén. Que las almas de los fieles difuntos, por la misericordia de Dios, descansen en paz. Amén.”

“Amén.” The children stood from the table and looked around awkwardly. They didn’t have dishes to clear away and nothing to wipe the table with. They turned to Mrs. Lockley, unsure of what to do. She pointed to the door that Ms. Clark, Ms. Taylor, and Clara had disappeared into.

They went through the door and found themselves in a giant kitchen where the aforementioned sat around an island with the head chef whose name Argentina couldn’t recall. The girls beckoned them in, patting the seats around them.

“How was dinner?” Ms. Clark asked. The Castillo children looked at each other apprehensively before back at the girls. “That bad, huh?”

“We weren’t really sure what to expect, but I don’t think we were expecting… that,” Joaquin said. The chef let out a snort, moving to open the refrigerator doors.

The chef was really pretty, just like Xiomara. She had long, dark hair and slightly tanned skin. Her soulfully deep, almond-shaped eyes reminded Argentina of two black stones peeking out from a white lake. She quickly searched the fridge before producing a carton of ice cream. Rafael clapped his hands together, bouncing in his seat with a squeal.

Ms. Taylor reached up to grab a bunch of bowls from the cupboards. She placed them in front of the chef as she began scooping out the chocolate ice cream. Ms. Clark placed spoons in the bowls and passed them around until everyone had a bowl.

The older Castillo children chatted idly with the women, asking questions about the town and what they should expect. Argentina and Esmeralda ate in silence, focusing on their ice cream instead of the conversation. Rafael was perfectly happy with half of his ice cream ending up on his face.

Once everyone, except Rafael, was finished, the Castillo children collected the bowls and began doing dishes.

“What are you guys doing?” Ms. Clark asked. The Castillo children looked at each other before Xiomara gave a little chuckle.

“Helping clean up, of course,” she said with a smile. Ms. Clark shook her head vigorously, moving to stand up.

“No. You don’t have to worry about that. That’s our job.” Ms. Clark went to grab the plates but Xiomara swiftly dodged her hands.

“It’s not your job to clean up after us--”

“No, really, it is.”

“No. While Mr. Beckett might not mind leaving a mess behind, our madre and abuelo taught us better than that. Especially when you’re company.” Xiomara moved past Ms. Clark, carefully setting the dishes in the sink.

“But you aren’t company. You’re family now,” Ms. Taylor said. Argentina roughly set the bowls in the sink before she began washing them. Joaquin nudged her softly, shaking his head. She rolled her eyes but didn’t do anything else. The Castillo children continued to wash the dishes and put them away. “I don’t know what to do. I wasn’t trained for this.”

Joaquin glanced over his shoulder, shooting Ms. Taylor a wink. She blushed slightly, turning her head away. Argentina nudged Joaquin in return, a hint of a smile crossing her face. Even in a weird and confusing time, her brother could manage to find time to flirt with a pretty girl.

“I’m sorry, your name seems to have escaped me,” Xiomara said once the dishes were put away. The chef smiled.

“I’m the head chef, Yingyue Jiang, but everyone calls me Meimei,” she said.

“Why?” Esmeralda asked.

“It’s a nickname. It’s Chinese for ‘sister’. It’s also easier for people to pronounce,” she explained. “What about you guys? If you want us to refer to you by Mr. and Ms. Castillo, we will, but since there’s five of you, a first name or nickname will be easier to remember and know who we’re talking to.” She tilted her head slightly, giving Esmeralda a kind smile.

“I’m Esmeralda.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” Meimei said. Esmeralda gave her a small smile, bowing her head.

“I’m Xiomara and this little man is Rafael.” Rafael lifted his head at the mention of his name. He seemed to have more ice cream on face than he’d actually eaten. Xiomara shook her head and accepted the rag to wipe his face. He sat perfectly still as she did so before diving right back into his ice cream and successfully dirtying his face again.

“You all seem close.”

“We are. Family is everything. After our mother passed away, it was just us and our abuelo. He taught us that we worked better together than apart,” Joaquin said.

“He sounded like a smart man.”

“The smartest.” They sat there in silence for a brief moment. “I’m Joaquin, by the way.”

“Wakin?”

“Heh, not quite. Joaquin. Wa-keen.” Meimei practiced it a couple times before she got it. “Very good! Not my easiest name.”

“‘Names’?” Clara asked.

“Yes. I thought Americans had middle names,” Xiomara said.

“Oh, yeah. What is your middle name?”

“Mine? They’re Elena, Sofia, and Itzel.”

“Whoa, that’s a lot of names. Why do you have so many?” Ms. Clark asked.

“Because we have no father,” Argentina said. Xiomara gave her a pointed look as Joaquin sighed. The other women shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other. “I only mean we grew up without a father. Most families in Guatemala have two last names, our mother did as did our abuelo. Since we didn’t know our father’s last name, our mother gave us an extra middle name to fill the gap.”

“Well that’s not so bad,” Meimei said. “So all of your names are that long?” The Castillo children nodded. “Well, let’s hear them. Because if I have to scold any of you, I will use your full name, no matter how long.” She gave them a pointed look, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Well, mine is Xiomara Elena Sofia Itzel Castillo. Then there’s Joaquin Mateo Primo Benito Castillo, Argentina Carmen Luciana Perla Castillo, Esmeralda Marisol Viviana Lillianna Castillo, and then there's Rafael Manolo Sebastian Jorge Castillo,” Xiomara said, pointing to each Castillo child.

“Well those are certainly mouth fulls,” Ms. Clark said. Xiomara shrugged, smoothing her brother’s curls. Not up for conversation, Argentina excused herself, stating she was tired from the journey.

She left the kitchen, went through the dining room, and ended up back in the main foyer. Mr. Winsby and Mrs. Lockley were nowhere to be seen. She continued up the stairs before pausing to look over to the West Wing. Something deep down told her to go and demand answers from Mr. Beckett--demand he send her and her siblings back to Guatemala. Instead she turned and went towards the East Wing, down the hallways until she was climbing the stairs to her room.

Once she was safely in her room, she collapsed onto the bed. She finally took the time to notice just how soft her bed actually was, much more than her one in Guatemala. It was like laying on a cloud. She lifted her head up to look at herself in the vanity mirror. She looked so tired. More than she usually did.

She laid back down, thinking about her life and everything that had brought her to this point. She hadn’t really thought about who her father could be. After her grandfather told her and her siblings he was dead, she didn’t feel the need to ask about anything else. Maybe she should have. Maybe then she could have known what to expect when she met Mr. Beckett.

She wondered if her father was like Mr. Beckett, cold and distant, awkward around children. Was he fun like her mother? Spontaneous and hard-working? Maybe he had been more like her grandfather, kind, wise and compassionate.

She pushed her thoughts away as she readied herself for bed. There was no use in those types of thoughts. Both her parents were dead, her grandfather was dead, and her uncle--her last living relative--didn’t seem to have any interest in getting to know his family, but she couldn’t bring herself to be angry with him. After all, Joaquin and Xiomara were both adults. He had no part in their lives and his presence was too little too late.

Letting out another sigh, she buried herself in her covers. Maybe once she woke up, she’d still be in Guatemala and this would have been a weirdly long dream. One could hope.

#haveanotherfandomblog post #my babysitter's a vampire #my babysitter's a vampire smut #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy a kid smut #benny weir x you #benny weir x oc #benny weir x reader #benny weir smut #benny weir #rodrick heffley x oc #rodrick heffley x you #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley smut #rodrick heffley #rory keaner #erica jones #sarah fox #ethan morgan #benny weir fluff #rodrick heffley fluff #benny weir angst #rodrick heffley angst

[haveanotherfandomblog]

Meimei Jiang

Full Name: Yingyue Jiang

Name Origin: Yingyue- “the moon’s reflection”. Jiang- “river”.

Nickname(s): Meimei

Birthday: October 25, 1976

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Age: 42

Place of Birth: Shanghai, China

Sex: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Ethnicity: Chinese

Hair: Long, Dark Brown

Eyes: Almond, Black

Nose: Narrow, Pointed

Mouth: Full, Downturned

Build: Average Height, Curvy

Style: Jeans, Tee-Shirts, Cardigans, Sneakers

Occupation: Head Chef

Strengths: Excellent Cook, Empathetic

Flaws: Stubborn

Habits: TBA

Personality: Strong-Willed, Resourceful, Charismatic, Hard-Working

Family: Unnamed Father, Unnamed Mother, Unnamed Brother

Story: Fiery Passions || Pasiones Ardientes

Fandom(s): Diary of a Wimpy Kid, My Babysitter’s a Vampire

Other Information

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Alignment: True Neutral

Personality Type: ENFJ-T

Representative Color(s): Teal, Blue

Iconic Quotes

Meimei: TBA

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[haveanotherfandomblog]

Mr. Winsby

Full Name: Emrys Winsby

Name Origin: Emrys- “immortal”. Winsby- “the hill covered by wyn grass”.

Nickname(s): N/A

Birthday: September 22, 1944

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Age: 74

Place of Birth: London, UK

Sex: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity: British

Hair: Short, White

Eyes: Thin, Grey

Nose: Narrow, Pointed

Mouth: Small, Thin

Build: Tall

Style: Slacks. Sweaters. Glasses. Comfortable yet Sensible Shoes

Occupation: Caretaker of Beckett Estate, Butler

Strengths: Smart

Flaws: TBA

Habits: TBA

Personality: Wise, Knowledgeable, Hard-Working

Family: N/A

Story: Fiery Passions || Pasiones Ardientes

Fandom(s): Diary of a Wimpy Kid, My Babysitter’s a Vampire

Other Information

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Alignment: Lawful Good

Personality Type: INTJ-T

Representative Color(s): Blue, Brown

Iconic Quotes

Mr. Winsby: TBA

#haveanotherfandomblog post #heavy metal and heavy hearts #my babysitter’s a vampire crossover #my babysitter's a vampire smut #my babysitter's a vampire #diary of a wimpy kid crossover #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy a kid smut #benny weir fluff #benny weir x oc #benny weir x reader #benny weir smut #benny weir #rodrick heffley x oc #rodrick heffley x you #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley smut #rodrick heffley