Mike Wheeler || Dungeons & Dragons

A/N: This is my first Stranger Things imagine! I am now accepting Stranger Things request so feel free to send them in and I hope everyone enjoys!

“What the hell are they doing?” Nancy muttered out angrily as she slammed her book on the bed. Loud slams of doors, yells, and stomping of feet came from the room below Nancy’s, signaling that her brother and his friends were home. “When you were Mike’s age, we were just as bad.” Her eyes rolled at that, “ok, but not all the time like they are. Plus, you’re a only a year older than them and you’re not as rambunctious as they are.”

“That’s because I hang out with an older crowd, Nancy, skipping grades does that. I’ve always had you and Barb as friends,” both of your faces fell at the mention of Barb’s name. It was always hard to talk about her, especially once you learned the truth of what happened to her. You quickly moved to change the subject off of late your friend, “I mean, the only time I interact with kids my age is when your brother and his friends are here.” You teased as you uncrossed your legs, “they are just having fun. I mean, we are all really mature for our age.”

Nancy rolled her eyes, “you’re just saying that because you like Mike… which is still gross by the way.” You scoffed, “you’re just biased since he’s your brother.”

Silence fell over the two of you as you both turned your attention turned back to your books to jot down notes, “plus, Nancy,” she shifted her gaze to you, your eyes never left your book, “there’s nothing saying he likes me, so no need to worry.”

Nancy shook her head with a smirk, “whatever you say, Y/N.” Before you could get your teasing remark out, a knock at the door cut you off as the both of you turned to look, “yeah?”

The door opened and Mike’s head peeked in, “just wanted to let you know that we have pizza downstairs… if you want any.” His eyes darted around the room nervously, “no-“

“Sure, thanks Mike!” You cut Nancy off, she shot you a glare, “I’m not turning down free pizza, Nance, and a break would be nice. Lighten up, I’ll bring you a piece.” You quickly climbed off the bed and Mike opened the door up for you before he followed you downstairs.

“So, are you two studying for a test?” Mike started as he walked beside you down the stairs, “yeah, it’s for chemistry tomorrow.” You shot the other boys a smile as you entered the dining room, “hey, guys!”

“Hey, Y/N!” Despite how Nancy held the ‘I’m the big sister, don’t talk to me,’ phase, you would talk to the boys whenever you saw them. It just did not seem right to treat them as if they were below you since you skipped grades, “what are you guys up to?”

“Getting ready for another campaign,” Dustin’s voice was muffled from the pizza as he grinned at you. “Dungeons and Dragons.” Lucas illiterates for you, his shook his head at Dustin, “mouth closed, dude.”

“You can join, if you want.” Mike spoke up, his face lit up with a smile, “wish I could, but I’m studying with Nance.” His face dropped at that, “but I’ll definitely come down after and watch.”

A smile rose back to his face and he shifted his weight, “Sounds-sounds great.”

With a smile, you grabbed two slices of pizza, “thanks for the pizza, Mike. I’ll see you guys in a few!” You gave a soft wave as you made your way upstairs, “dude, your whipped as shit,” Dustin’s voice broke through before you could close the door, your cheeks burned and Nancy raised an eyebrow, “what happened down there?”

You placed her slice of pizza in front of her as you sat down and crossed your legs Indian style, “nothing. The boys just asked if I wanted to join them for a game after we finished studying.”

Nancy hummed as she took a bite of her pizza, “are you going to?” With a slight nod, you opened your book, lightly chewing, “yeah, probably.”

“If Dustin thinks Mike’s whipped, he should see you.” Her tone was teasing, your eyes snapped up, “oh, my God. Nancy stop.” She laughed as your blush returned, “what? It’s so true!”

With a huff, you threw yourself back on the bed as you stared up at the ceiling, “you’re never going to let this go.”

“Probably not.” She had a grin on her face as she the two of you finished up the chapter. Stretching your back, you lifted your hands over your head, “you should come with, the boys aren’t that bad.”

The phone ringing cut off her answer, “I’m good, thanks though.”

She answered the phone and her face immediately lit up, quickly you gathered your books and shot her a look, “see you tomorrow, Nance!”

“See you tomorrow!” As you were closing the door she called out, “hey, remember we are meeting before school to study!”

“I got it, I got it.” You laughed as you closed the door and made your way downstairs, “hey, Mrs. Wheeler. Hey, Holly.” You grinned as you passed by and waved at Holly, “hey, Y/N. Are you two already finished studying?”

“We are, but we are going to meet in the morning and go over anything we may have missed.”

You held a short conversation with Mrs. Wheeler before you excused yourself to the basement. You could hear the boys talking excitedly about the game. “Y/N, your done sooner than expected.” Will’s voice made everyone turn to the stairs as you hopped off the last step and sat next to Mike, “yeah, we figured we’d call it a night.”

“I heard the phone ring, I bet it’s Steve.” Lucas teased as he elbowed Dustin.

“Do you want to join?” Will turned his attention back to you, “no, I’m just going to watch. I don’t really know how to play.”

“You can help me,” Mike shot you a smile and pushed the book he was holding towards you and you grabbed the edge of the book. His shoulder pressed against yours and his free hand followed the words as he read out loud. You watched the emotion his face held and listened to the excitement in his voice as he read. Every once in a while, Mike’s eyes would land on you and he would give you a smile and you could feel his leg bounce against yours.

After a few hours the game came to an end, “man, we better go.” Lucas said as he glanced at his watch. Will and Dustin silently agreed as they packed up the game then their belongings, “see ya tomorrow, Mike. See ya later, Y/N.” They called as they climbed on their bikes and took off. You made your way to your bike and picked it up as you turned back to Mike, “thank you for inviting me to watch the game. I had fun.”

“No problem, maybe next time we can teach you a little more so you can play.” Mike rubbed the back of his neck, “sounds great.” You smiled softly, “I, uh, I better go. I’ll see you later, Mike.”

You pushed off and rode to the end of the driveway, “wait!” You turned to see Mike running up to you, “if you want, we are meeting up after school at the arcade, if you wanna come.”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his cheek, “I’ll be sure to swing by.” He blushed, his eyes watching as you rode off with a goodbye loud enough for him to hear. Tonight had been a fortunate turn of events.

I Hate Christmas - Sherlock x (y/n)

Word count: 1784

Warnings: none

“Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson called from downstairs. “It’s (y/n)!”

Sherlock hurried down the stairs as quickly as he could. “Ah, (y/n). Finally. John and Mary are preparing dinner upstairs and I’ll be heading out for a bit.”

“Sherlock!” You said, exasperated. “You promised you’d stay. Even if you had a case. It’s Christmas for Christ’s sake.”

“I hate Christmas.” He said with a sneer. “It brings about carolers and holiday cheer.”

“Oh, Sherlock. Promise me you’ll still come home for dinner and presents.”

“Food is for the weak and I told everyone not to get me anything. I also did not get anything for anyone else…” He said trailing off.


“Fine. I promise I’ll be home for dinner and presents.” He said rolling his eyes. “Even if I don’t eat and I don’t have presents.”

“Good boy.” You said smiling brightly. You bounced into the building away from the cold, chilling air of London. Sherlock moved past you and into the freezing air.

“I’m not a boy (y/n). I’m a man. A very smart one at that.” He said quickly, as if in a rush, which to be honest he probably was. He then briskly walked away. Mrs. Hudson gave you a sad smile.

“Sorry about him dear. That’s Sherlock though. Always dashing about. Anyhow, might you come up for a spot of tea? John and Mary’s food smells so delicious.”

You smiled kindly at her, “Of course, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you.”

Time Skip

“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock’s loud voice rang from downstairs. “I’m back for Christmas dinner.” He said in a disgusted tone you could tell he wasn’t really trying to hide. He walked upstairs quickly, taking the steps two at a time. He walked past you hastily, using his coat to conceal something that he was carrying. “Mrs. Hudson, John, (y/n) don’t wait up. I’ll be in my room wrapping things up. I’ll be back in a wink.” He said winking at you. You blushed profusely. Trying to cover it up, you said, “Shall we start eating?”

“Of course.” John said with a happy smile.

“Mary, the pie looks delicious.” You said to her.

“Oh, I didn’t make it. John did. He’s a great baker.” She said bragging slightly about her wonderful husband.

“Well then John, it looks simply divine.” You said excited to dig in to the wonderful looking food.

Time Skip – After Dinner

“Oh, the meal was so scrumptious.” Mrs. Hudson commented, a little bit sleepy from the meal.

“It was.” You said, a bit sleepy yourself. “It was too bad Sherlock didn’t eat anything.” You said clearing the last of the plates from the table. As if on cue Sherlock emerged from his room.

“Time for presents.” He said lazily, as if bored with the whole affair and idea of Christmas. Little did you know, inside he was having a silent panic attack. He secretly slipped something under the tree.

“Ok.” You said giddily, smiling like a child. “I’m excited to see what you got me Mr. Holmes.” You said nudging him in the side.

“Nothing.” He responded. “I told you earlier that I didn’t get anyone anything.”

You looked down, slightly saddened by this sentence. Your Christmas cheer was being ruined by Sherlock.

“You know you don’t have to be such a spoilsport.”

“I actually do.”

“Why, Sherlock?”

“The idea of buying people presents gives some people anxiety. Anxiety about not getting the right thing. In fact, it is scientifically proven that people have more stress around the holidays.” He said with a completely straight face.

“Really Sherlock? You don’t buy people presents because you’re afraid you’ll get the wrong thing?”

“That is what I said, yes.” He said rolling his eyes.

“Sherlock… We’re your friends. We’ll be happy with anything you give us.”

“Really?” He said raising an eyebrow. “Last Christmas John said he loved my gift. He lied. I read his body language. He was not at all pleased with my gift. I was given a mental talent for reading people and it is a blessing and a curse. Let me ask you something, (y/n). Do you sometimes wish I were a normal person? That I’m unable to read people like a book?”

Without missing a heartbeat, you answered his question honestly, “No. You are perfect. If you weren’t the way you were you would never have met me. You never would have been ‘The Great Sherlock Holmes’, and I never would have come to you with my case.”

He clasped his hands together, thinking deeply. “Hmm… You’re right.”

“As I always am.” You said.

“Not always.” He corrected quickly.

You laughed. John and Mary came out of the kitchen. “What’s so funny?” John asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” You said. “Let’s go. I can’t possibly wait any longer. I can feel the presents calling to me.”

“Presents don’t talk.” Sherlock mentioned quietly.

“They do in my mind palace.” You said, teasing him.

He sighed tiredly, “Let’s just get on with the presents.”

John cleared his throat. “Ok then. Let’s see, first present.” He picked up a box with green wrapping. He said out loud, “For Mary and John, from (y/n).” You smiled as they unwrapped it together. They pulled out a small onesie.

“It’s for the baby.” You said smiling brightly. “Do you guys like it?”

Mary turned to you. “Oh, (y/n). We love it!” She came over to hug you.

John said, “Thank you (y/n). It’s a wonderful gift.”

You picked the next box. “For Sherlock, from John and Mary.” You smiled at the couple as you unwrapped the present for Sherlock. You pulled out a hat. You laughed. Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked at the hat in disgust. You smiled at Mary, “Thanks guys.” You looked at John and mouthed, “I’ll make him wear it.” The next present was for Mrs. Hudson, from John and Mary. It was a nice pink shawl. John and Mary had given you a nice coat that matched Sherlock’s. The presents from John and Mary were all wonderful. Next, it was your turn to give everyone presents. You had already given John and Mary their present so you gave Mrs. Hudson hers. Sher pulled out a blouse, a skirt, and a pair of heels all matching the same royal blue color. “Thank you, dear.” She said smiling at you.

“Of course, Mrs. Hudson.” You said, matching her smile. Then you handed Sherlock his present. He opened it and was surprised to see a brand new blue scarf.

“Thank you very much, (y/n).” He said looking over at you.

You smiled at him, “Anything for you, Sherlock.”

Mrs. Hudson seemed to be ready to bounce out of her seat. Sher quickly handed everyone their presents. Your gift was a nice jumper. “Mrs. Hudson, did you knit this all by yourself?” You inquired.

“Yes I did.” She said quite proudly. Sherlock’s was a fancy suit.

“Mrs. Hudson, where did you get this?” He asked.

“Oh, it was from a real fancy shop. I know you have a lot of suits, but this one just seemed to pop to me. It would look perfect on you. I mean you have all black suits; you never wear blue. I thought it would look real nice on you.”

“Thank you. I like it.” He said cautiously, as if his words might offend her. Everyone looked around. There were no more presents to be opened. Everyone looked expectantly at Sherlock. They didn’t seem surprised, however. They soon all packed up and left, save for Mrs. Hudson, who had gone upstairs. You started to clean up the trash on the ground from the presents. Sherlock watched you carefully, studying you. You had finished clearing all of the wrapping paper from around the tree when a little twinkle from under the tree caught your eye. You reached a hand under the tree and felt a box. You pulled it out. It was a small box covered with shiny silver wrapping paper. Carefully you turned it over, ‘To my dear (y/n), from your Sherlock,’ it said in fancy writing on the wrapping paper. You turned to Sherlock and he gave you a smile. “I didn’t want you to open it in front of everyone.” He said smirking at your surprised face.

“Here, I thought you were a pompous jackass who was too good to get anyone anything.” You commented, joking lightly. Sherlock only rolled his eyes.

“Open it.” He said. “Before I change my mind and return it.”

“Now I know what you meant when you said you were in your room, ‘wrapping things up’. You meant it literally, that you actually were ‘wrapping something up’. Gosh, you are clever.”

“I know.” He said, sarcastically. “Now open it.”

You excitedly ripped off the wrapping paper. Inside was a black square velvet box. You gasped in surprise. It was from Tiffany’s. You traced your fingers along the velvet on the outside of the box. “What is it?” You asked Sherlock, looking over at him. He only smiled mysteriously.

“Open it and see.”

You opened the box to see the diamond necklace you had been drooling over for a long time every time you passed the window of Tiffany’s. “Sherlock! You didn’t have to get me this.”

“I actually did. Did you think I wouldn’t notice how every day when we walked past the store you looked longingly and lovingly at this necklace. I read John, I can read you too.”

“Sherlock! This is just too much. I-I” You were at a loss for words. You looked down at the box and noticed there was another, much smaller, box inside. You picked it up. “Sherlock… What’s this?”

He stayed silent. So you took the box carefully in your hands and opened it up. Inside was a beautiful diamond ring. You gasped. “Oh my. Oh my gosh.” You looked up at Sherlock. He smiled mysteriously.

“I see no need to get on one knee and all so I’ll just say it. Will you (y/n) (y/l/n) the most beautiful and clever and kind and funny person I have ever met and also my favorite human being in this entire wretched world, agree to be my wife?”

“Yes, Sherlock. Yes of course I’ll be your wife.” You stood up to hug him and as you hugged you noticed a small green plant hanging on top of Sherlock’s head. You smiled. As you pulled apart from the hug you pecked Sherlock on the lips.

“What was that for?” He questioned.

“Tradition.” You responded with a smirk.

“I hate tradition.”

“Is there anything you don’t hate?”

“I don’t hate you.”

You smiled softly. “Hey, don’t get soft on me now Mr. Holmes.”

“I won’t Mrs. Holmes.”

The End

The Tattoo Artist

Pairing: Y/N/Soulmate!Calum

Rating: PG-All

Request: No

Words: 4.450+

Summary: In which everyone gets a name tattoo of their soulmate on their wrist when they turn eighteen but Y/N doesn’t believe in it and wants hers covered up by the male tattoo artists whose shop is right down the street

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I’ve Got You Now

A work based on @directium‘s teenage Dadvid!AU

Read also on AO3

Summary: David knew that life could be unpredictable, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still surprised when it threw it’s biggest surprise yet at him. So he had a kid now. That’s cool.

Word Count: 3588

David was trudging home from school far later than he would have liked. It was already dark out, and the air had taken on a particular nighttime chill. He was tired and hungry and really looking forward to making it back home so he could just relax. Tomorrow was the day before Thanksgiving, and the school was nice enough to start their long weekend there—he could, and would, be sleeping until noon.

He hadn’t planned on today being so long. The main reason he’d been kept out so late was because of an annoying snafu that had happened with the kid he tutored. David was good at earth science, so he had begun tutoring one of the kids in his class who needed some extra help to earn a little extra cash. Usually it went fine, but today hadn’t worked out as planned. Their scheduled time to meet was at three o'clock in the library, but today the kid didn’t show up. He waited for about half an hour, but still nothing. When he called the kid to try to find out what was up, he was frustrated to learn that he had known he was going to be late and hadn’t told him.

“Sorry,” the kid had said, not sounding all that apologetic, “I’ll be there by four.” He hadn’t shown up until after 4:30, and David spent the next two hours explaining and re-explaining the same concept to the kid, because he just wasn’t listening. It was a little past seven by now, and he really just wanted to be home.

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Desperate Times and Desperate Measures

Darcy stopped just inside the door. “Oh my GOD,” she said, her head falling back. “They STILL haven’t fixed the heat?”

There was a beat of silence, and then, “No. They have not.”

Darcy tossed her purse at the kitchen counter, letting the door slam behind her. “Okay. Right. We’re going to my place.”

“Thanks. No.”

Darcy leaned over to unzip her boots, grinning at nothing in particular. “Harris. You’re going to freeze to death. Are you really choosing freezing to death over spending one night under Tony Stark’s roof?”

“Let me think about it.” Another moment, then he said, “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Right,” Darcy said. She didn’t bother taking off her hat or her scarf. It wasn’t warm enough to warrant it. In her stocking feet, she headed through the kitchen, glancing over at the living room as she walked towards the bedroom. “I’m getting your stuff. And then we’re going to my place.”

“No,” the pile of blankets on the couch said.

Rolling her eyes, Darcy headed for the bedroom. Halfway there, she stopped. Did an about face. And scrambled back into the living room. “Are you wearing my jacket?

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Catch Me (Intro)

Summary: In which a bet leads Bucky to have to catch you every day for a week, no matter what.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 969

A/N: This fic is inspired by this moment in Brooklyn Nine Nine (where Terry drops his coffee mug in order to catch Jake). 

There are going to be multiple parts to this fic and I hope you guys are as excited as me. A lot of fluff is going to ensue from here on out. 

Special thanks to @avengerstories for editing this for me. You are the very best. 

Originally posted by iron-man-captain-dorito

You are walking past the living room when you notice that someone is in there. Abandoning your quest for a sandwich, you enter the room and find Bucky with his metal arm under one of the couch cushions. You don’t even have to ask what he’s looking for. “Lost your earphones again, huh?”

“I didn’t lose them,” he mutters while dropping down to the floor to look under the sofa. “They’ve just been misplaced.”

You cross your arms over your chest and chuckle. “If you say so.”

Bucky abruptly stands up from his position on the floor and fixes you with a hard glare. Most people would probably cower under the scrutiny, but not you. You and Bucky have been butting heads for eight months; a rivalry that began the moment you joined forces with the Avengers. Those eight months have been filled with nonstop arguments, snide remarks, and an overabundance of scowls pointed in each other’s direction.

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I Miss Her Too

@crowleysfavoritehuman asked: hello! im not sure if you do pennywise imagines but maybe you can change the characters if youre not comfortable? i’ve been listening to the song Every 27 years from the It soundtrack and it got me wondering. what would happen if the reader and pennywise(90s or 2017 version, doesnt matter) had like a relationship of some kind and reader dies unexpectedly maybe like car accident idk? like how would they react? totally get it if its not your style, but thank you for reading!!

Pairing -> Bill Denbrough x reader (A/N)

Warning -> sadness, the feels(😭) I actually cried while writing cause I hate sad things cause I’m too sensitive to people I love crying.

A/N: So this was originally a Pennywise request but I’m not that comfortable writing about Pennywise so Bill it is! Also, they are all about 17 in this. Also, italics mean it’s you and Bill talking in the past. Also(😂) this is an imagine kinda if this is okay cause I got this idea while reading the request☺️

F/C = Favourite Colour


Bill stared at the drawing he had drew of you when you were both fourteen. It wasn’t an accurate drawing, hardly no one’s was, but he couldn’t help but just stare. The way the hair colour resembled yours or the clothes that you loved wearing. He sighed and placed it back onto his shelf, throwing a old crisp packet from about a week ago to the floor. Bill hated it. The feeling of emptiness. He felt full when you were around, laughing and smiling, and now, he felt nothing. His two favourite people were gone.

“Bill! Richie’s here!” Mrs Denbrough shouted from downstairs.

Richie. Bill’s best friend. Bill knew what would happen when he went downstairs. Richie would ask him to come with him, he would say no. So when he headed down the stairs and soon saw the whole Loser’s Club standing there, Bill recoiled.

“Bill, I know you’re gonna say no, but we’re not listening anymore. Lets go” Eddie says, grabbing Bill’s wrist.

They headed along Derry’s street and turned down an avenue. Your avenue. Bill slowly came to a stop when he saw that they were going to your house. Stan stopped and turned towards him, giving him a sympathetic smile. Holding his hand out, Bill grips it and carries on walking until he reaches the garage where the Loser’s stop, but Bill. He carried on walking.

Inside your family’s garage was hundreds of your things. Your Polaroid pictures were hung up around the garage with your fairy lights. Your F/C blankets were scattered neatly onto the floor with your pillows and teddy bears while a projector was sitting on top of your old dressing table. Standing in the middle was Lisa; your eleven year old sister. She was holding a box full of something and walked towards Bill, holding them out to him.

“Hey Billy. I made these in school today and i didn’t want to eat these by myself”

“W-why not L-Lisa?”

“Because me and Y/N use to eat these together all the time. But now i can’t so I want to eat them with Y/N’s favourite person. Please?”

Opening it, Bill saw it was chocolate chip cookies, your favourite. Bill knew that if he opened his mouth, it would just come out in a sob so he just nodded, letting Lisa grab his hand and take him inside the garages, pushing him down onto the blankets. The Loser’s Club followed in after, Mike closing the garage door and settling down. Ben pressed play on the projector and soon enough, pictures of you popped up with everyone. The way you rolled your eyes at Richie, towered over Eddie, laughed with Beverly, helped Ben, read with Stan, looked at the animals with Mike and, most importantly, smiled at Bill.

“Who came up with this?” Bill asked quietly

“All of us, but mainly Richie and Eddie. Beverly and Lisa did the decoration” Stan answered

“Thank you” Bill replied, smiling lightly

Soon enough, a video came up and started to run through. Bill stared at it as he reminiscent the days.

“Billy! Lets go!” You shouted

Running from behind cameraman Stan, you jump onto Bill’s back and start laughing, your dimples showing to a huge amount. Bill placed you onto the ground and smiled down at you. Reaching up, you kissed Bill on the nose and ran after Beverly, who had stolen your cookies from you bag.

“Marsh! Get back here!”


“Guys! Smile to the camera!” Ben says

All turning away from the fire with marshmallows in your hands, you all beam at the camera while you and Richie struggle to keep the marshmallows inside your mouth. Bill hugs you and you grab his hand with your free one, laughing and spluttering chewed up marshmallow everywhere.

“Say ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKE!” You shout, smiling over at the laughing boy

“Happy birthdays mickey” Richie splutters, earning a playful punch from you and Eddie.


“Lisa! Guess who’s here to see you!”

You run in and grab your nine year old sister, swinging her around and leading her outside. She squeals as she sees the Loser’s Club standing there, smiling sweetly at her.


Lisa squirms from your grip and sprints over to Bill, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging Bill tightly. Bill bent down and hugged Lisa back, her small arms not reaching all the way around his shoulders.

“SISSY! COME JOIN US!” Lisa shouts over to you

Laughing, you run over and engulf both in a hug. Eddie and Richie join in, then Beverly and Stan, and finally Ben and Mike.


By the end of the video, Bill was crying hard. The tears were making their way down his face easily as he quickly wiped them, even though more kept coming. Lisa crawled up to Bill and snuggled against him, crying into his shirt. Richie knelt down against Bill, tears in his eyes as well as he hugged Bill. Eddie, Stan and Beverly followed along with Ben and Mike. Sobbing into his hands, Bill glances up at the screen to see the ending picture. You and him.

It was the last day of school this year before the school holidays. About two weeks before you had died in that fatal car accident. Your mum, dad and Lisa were in it, although you were the only one to die. Your dad was intoxicated and had had an argument with your mum, so driving home he was angry. It was raining heavily that night so as your dad was speeding, you car collided with another, sending yours tumbling off the edge and down the ditch. Police had said that it looked like you had covered Lisa’s body with yours to save her. Trust you too do that.

No one spoke for a good few minutes.

Everyone was crying.

Everyone was aching.

Everyone was hurting.

Everyone missed you.

“She didn’t deserve this” Stan

“She was too kind for this world” Ben

“Y/N was too caring” Mike

“Y/N deserved to have the world” Beverly

“She was so strong” Eddie

“She understood me too much” Richie

“B-Billy-y I m-miss h-her” Lisa whimpered, sobbing into Bill’s shirt

Looking down at her, Bill could see Lisa’s bloodshot eyes, wet cheeks and runny nose. Hugging Lisa tighter, Bill buried his face into her hair, just like had done with you to comfort himself.

“I m-miss h-her t-too”

And Bill did. He really did. After Georgie had gone, you were his main reason to get up everyday. And now…

He had nothing.

The Morning After

This is for @mychakk‘s request for fan works featuring a sherlolly hug. It’s definitely fun to think about the night Molly stayed with Sherlock at the end of TLD, but for a little change this ficlet takes place that next morning. Enjoy! 😉 

Sherlock reached across his kitchen table, accepting the cup of coffee Molly’d made for him and bringing it to his lips for a comforting sip. His head still pounded, his body ached, and his mind was on fire. Not in a good way.

The coffee helped though.

She gave him a little smile across the table as she poured her own cup.

Molly helped even more.

This was one of those occasional moments where he was acutely aware that words failed him. His mind and his words were usually his greatest strength, but not right now. What could he say that managed to cover both his sins and his gratitude for the constancy of her friendship?

“John sent a text. He’s a little late but he’ll be here in just a few minutes,” she explained. “Apparently Rosie had a bit of a blow out right as they were leaving the flat and he had to get her into a completely new outfit. He’s bringing her but I think she’ll be staying downstairs with Mrs-“

“It’s fine,” Sherlock replied softly. “My schedule is hardly pressing at the moment.”

Molly chewed her lip, nodding as she took her own sip of coffee.

“And I’ve got work today, but I mean, if you need anything- or John or Mrs. Hudson- I’m just a phone call away.”

He met her gaze, responding quietly but pointedly.

“Yes, I know you are.”

A few minutes later they heard a cab pull up and John got out with Rosie. While he went to Mrs. Hudson’s flat and was getting Rosie settled in, Molly got her coat and shoes and prepared to head to work.

Sherlock stood a few feet away, his hands shoved nervously in his dressing gown pockets, watching her mundane but somehow endearing motions and again thinking of the myriad of things he should express, but couldn’t fathom how to begin.

How she’d been there for him exactly when he’d requested the other day but he’d been nothing but flippant and rude. Then despite that, how John had barely needed to do more than dial her number in order for her to volunteer to take shifts sitting with him at any free times she wasn’t at work. And how compassionate she’d been last night; catering to any needs he had, understanding and unfazed by any withdrawal symptoms, and even trying to create the most positive and pleasant mood possible given the situation.

It was just…everything. And quite honestly it was only a recent tiny piece of his long held privilege of calling Molly Hooper a friend.

“Ok, so I think I’m all set,” she stated brightly. “I guess I’ll be back at-“

Sherlock stepped forward abruptly then, and put his arms around her; a little awkwardly at first, just sort of pulling her against his chest. But being Molly, she very quickly and easily adapted, slipping her arms around his middle and pressing her cheek against his thumping heart.

“You’re gonna be ok,” she murmured after a moment of silence.

He relaxed a little more against her, resting his cheek on the top her her head.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

It sounded a little hollow to him and just…not nearly enough. But he meant it, more than she might realize, and then he gave her little body an extra squeeze before releasing her.

Molly smiled up at him as she turned to go, a beautiful touch of shy affection in her gaze.

He watched her leave, tying up his dressing gown as his chest now felt too cold from the lack of her warmth. And as he did, he couldn’t stop his mind from continuing to dwell on all the things that were still left buried deep and untouched, despite his new attempt at this sort of emotional display with her.

The harsh reality was that he’d barely scratched the surface.



Gifs not mine.

xxno-wayxx said: Sherlock x reader. Reader has a miscarriage?

Warnings: miscarriage and depression.

A/N: this is probably one of the most angsty things I have ever written but I do love write angst. Also, please don’t read this if it is a sensitive topic for you. Also, I added a season four quote in here as I thought it was necessary as it fit the writing. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! xxx

He wished you’d say something. He wished you'd laugh. He wished you’d smile. Oh how he loved your smile. The way your lips curved and captured joy with the ray of sunshine of your face. The way your eyes lit up and sparkled. That hadn’t occurred in a long while.



You kept him sane. He could listen to you for hours and not tire of your voice, your sweet melodic voice. Sherlock would be fascinated by you, despite your belief that you were quite ordinary. He was also in love with you; an emotion he denied feeling for a while. However, when the time came for him to care for you, he couldn’t. You’d shut him out completely. You’d shut out everyone since the trip to the hospital…



You awoke with labour-like pains in the middle of the night. You screamed out in agony and pools of blood were running down your leg.

“It’s only six months!” You cried out in both pain and agony. You clung to Sherlock as he held you in his arms. “This cannot be happening.” Your wails could be heard from downstairs so Mrs Hudson, fearing the worst, came up to your flat but Sherlock sent her swiftly away as she entered the bedroom.

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” Sherlock whispered softly to you. He went to leave you to get his phone as the pair of you had just so happened to leave your phones in the living room. When he pulled away to leave, you clung to him tighter so he picked you up and carried you with him when he went to retrieve the phone. He knew moving would make the pain increase but you wouldn’t leave him.



Everything seemed to go in a blur until you had to give birth. That was very slow and full of torment. Sherlock was by your side through it all. He tried to stay strong for you. In the end, you were left on the bed with your tiny child in your arms. Nothing could have brought her round. You could do nothing but look down at her and weep. But you didn’t weep. You just felt empty. Sherlock felt the same but a single tear trickled down his face. It’s not like Sherlock didn’t care. He cared a lot as he loved you and your baby, that you unfortunately lost. You cried buckets after the birth but as soon as she was placed in her arms, all emotion was lost from your exterior. Sherlock hated the thought of you bottling it all inside.

“She needs a name,” You stated. Sherlock nodded in agreement.


“And a middle name?”

Sherlock thought. “Elizabeth. Melody Elizabeth Holmes.”

“My little Melody.”



“Y/N,” Sherlock called. “I’ve made you a cup of tea.” Sherlock never made anyone tea and he knew you wouldn’t drink it but he wanted to try. You were stood by the window gazing out at the street below. You’d been stood there for around an hour lost in your thoughts like usual. You’d been like this for three months. Your body had healed relatively quickly but you were mentally unstable. You rarely ate or drank and you hardly slept. You only slept after the miscarriage and you felt absolutely exhausted. Well, you did feel incredibly tired for the next three months but couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. When you did sleep, you didn’t want to wake up.



“Y/N,” Sherlock repeated the tea. This time you slowly turned your head to face him. You frame was thin, due to the lack of eating and you had heavy bags under your eyes.

“I’m fine,” You replied quietly. That wasn’t the voice Sherlock was used to hearing as it was broken one.

“You haven’t done anything today, have you?”

No reply.

“Have you eaten?”

No reply.

He sighed. “Y/N, you need help.”

“My baby needed help.” Your eyes welled up. Sherlock took this as a good sign. It was awful to see you cry but he detested seeing you so isolated from the world. This was your first emotional outburst since the day you lost your child.

“I killed her, Sherlock!” You screamed as the flood of tears streamed down the cheeks that were once rosie.

“No,” Sherlock said sternly and walked over to you. He put his hands on your shoulders. “This is not your fault. It was inevitable.”

“Then who’s fault is it?”

“There a several causes that can cause it-”

“But what if the cause is me? What if I have a problem.”

Sherlock sighed. "Approximately 60 percent of miscarriages are caused by mismatched chromosomes. So, if you blame yourself, then you will also have to blame me. Also, most miscarriages are a one time thing so this may not be a problem with you. Please, my love, stop hurting yourself.“

"I just…” You couldn’t think of the right word. “Hurt. Sherlock, I just hurt. I feel so empty. It’s been three months. I should have my little girl with me now. New-born and alive and healthy and… She’s not.”

“We can’t bring her back though.”


“I will help you. Everyone will help you. However, you need to realise that I…" A lump formed in his throat. "I lost my child too and now I worry that I’ll lose you.”

“I’m so sorry.” Only now did you realise the pain you put him through. “I didn’t mean for this. I didn’t mean to put you through any pain. I was selfish.”

“No you weren’t selfish. Your baby died, our baby died!” He sighed. “It’s okay.”

“But it’s not!”

“No but it is what it is. We will get help and we’ll get through this together.”

Tags (message me though message or inbox if you want to be tagged):

@milychetto @rikkachloechan @lovelyblackdespair @cloudless-skys-blog


Ok, so @magicaldestiny was SO KIND to let me off the hook for her birthday fic while I was drowning in Spacedogs stories. So I would like to thank her for that and say….LOOK! I remembered to do the thing, months later. Please forgive the lateness - as well as how incredibly sappy this is m’dear. 

         Will pulled the blanket around him, trying to control the shivers that wracked his body.  This was worse than the cliff - worse than the sound of his skull rattling as Jack screamed for Hannibal to stop the saw. Will let himself loll to the side, head thumping weakly on the arm of the sofa. Through half-closed eyes, Will saw calf-leather loafers shuffling toward him.

         “If you were planning to kill me again, now would be a great time,” Will moaned, letting his eyes fall closed. He heard the clink of a tray as it settled on the coffee table before he felt himself being pulled upright and settled against a warm, solid mass.

         “I wouldn’t dream of killing you,” Hannibal murmured in Will’s ear, offering him a steaming cup of tea. “Unless you wipe your nose on my hand loomed throw again.”

         “I apologized for that.” The tea smelled of ginger, Will gulped it down.

         “Hmmm, and yet the stain remains.”

         “You know you actually gutted me, right? Like, my actual innards spilled out.”

         “I regret that more than you’ll ever know.” Hannibal sighed, pressing a kiss behind Will’s ear. “I’m sure the floors had to be refinished. They were original to the house.”

         “If I wasn’t three seconds from dying, I’d smack you.”

         “Don’t be ridiculous, Will. You’ve got hours before dehydration would even seriously threaten you.” Hannibal held up a bowl of soup and made Will swallow a few spoonfuls. “There, I’ve just bought you another half hour, at least.”

         “Did Hopkins ever talk to you about bedside manor?”

         Hannibal smirked. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

         Will sneered. “Sex puns? When I’m too weak to defend myself? Have you no mercy?”

         “None.”  Hannibal fed Will a few more swallows of soup before setting the bowl on the table. “Now, how shall we wait out this illness? I could read to you? Perhaps play something?”

         Will opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Hannibal frowned.


         “You won’t want to do it.”

         “I would have thought after the incident in Pallentine Chapel, you’d know there is very little I’m not willing to do to and for you.”

         “For the last time, if I had known that goddamn nun was watching us, I wouldn’t have-”

Keep reading

My Muse - Sherlock x Fem! Reader

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem! Reader
Warnings: none? i think?
Rating: T, just to be safe
Word Count: 1828
Author’s Note: This is for @sherlockourhero who requested this:

Heyy, I loved your last moriarty x reader imagine!<3 If u don’t mind, here’s a Sherlockxreader request for you:) Soo, the reader really enjoys to draw but she runs out of ideas but then she decides to draw Sherlock and she’s so keen of the idea so from this moment forth she’s currently drawing him. One day(maybe when she’s on a date) Sherlock needs something from her and searches for it but finds the drawings and is totally flattered and doesn’t know how to handle it when she comes in? Fluff? <3

Hopefully you liked this! I’m sorry if you don’t, but I tried my best! :)

“I’ve been gone for three hours and you still haven’t moved from the floor!” John exclaimed when he entered the flat of 221B Baker Street. Y/N Y/L/N lay sprawled on the floor with her eyes closed. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon and the sunlight poured in from the open window. Mrs Hudson was probably downstairs watching telly, Sherlock… somewhere and Y/N was normally sketching away. Except she wasn’t. Her signature sketch book and her pencil were no where to be seen.

“You took Rosie away from me,” Y/N replied sorrowfully, her eyes still closed. “My wittle Wosie. My sunshine, the light of my life.” John groaned and set his shopping on the table, which wasn’t cluttered with experiments, surprisingly. “If she were around, I could have gone with Molly and we’d have bought more toys and clothes for her.”

“I’m starting to think you have an obsession with Rosie,” he rolled his eyes at her. Y/N hummed back in response and continued to lie on the floor.

“She’s my favourite thing in this whole world,” she spoke loudly after some time, finally getting up and plopped herself onto the sofa. “I would gladly quit my job for her, but I can’t or else I’d be broke, and then I can’t buy her nice things,” John sat down next to her and seizing the opportunity, she put her legs on his lap. He made a motion to shove her legs away but changed his mind at the last minute.

“You ramble a lot when you’re bored,” he finally spoke, after looking at her for some time. John grabbed the newspaper that was on the coffee table and began to read it.

“I am aware,” was her reply.

“We need to find something you can do on Saturday afternoons,” John shook his head and turned the page. “What about… going out with Molly? She’s your best friend.”

“Firstly,” Y/N held up a finger. “Molly works on Saturdays, who does that? And I’d love to go out with her, it’s just that we’re not-“

“Yeah yeah whatever,” John cut her off. “Rosie isn’t with me… What about drawing?”

“There’s nothing for me to draw!” Y/N complained loudly. “I have over a dozen drawings of Rosie, couple of Molly, some of you…” she trailed off, sneaking him a look. He chose to ignore the last statement and turned a page. A couple of silent minutes passed when John realised that something was missing. Or rather someone.

“Where’s Sherlock?” John asked, looking around. “He’s the one who normally causing the ruckus.”

“Probably visiting Eurus,” she replied, looking at the grocery John had bought in a new found interest. “Did you get jam?”

“Stop telling everyone I’ve gone to visit Eurus!” Sherlock called loudly from the bedroom. John groaned and held his head in his hands when he heard something hit the door.

“Sometimes I can still hear him,” the woman mock pondered, pouting slightly in the process.

“Sod off Y/N,” he yelled back, emerging briefly throwing her sketchbook and pencil at her from the room. “I don’t visit her all the time!” He then looked at the kitchen and slowly turned his head, with a murderous glare in his eyes. “Did you remove all my experiments?” he asked softly.

“I do what I want Sherlock!” Y/N hollered back, picking up the sketch book and pencil from the floor. She frowned when she saw that the tip of the pencil had broken off. “Stop throwing my things and breaking them you… you man-child!” She yelled at him once more. Sherlock emerged from the bedroom, like a dragon emerging from a cave, and glared at Y/N.

“Remind me why you’re here again?” Sherlock asked waspishly. All of a sudden, the army doctor wished he wasn’t such a frequent visitor to Baker Street. It was fine enough having two babies to handle, he had to handle Y/N now that she had to stay.

“Someone blew up my kitchen when Mrs Hudson said that special someone couldn’t use the one in 221B,” she stuck her tongue out at him. “So I have to stay at yours.”

“SHUT UP!” John finally yelled at both of them. He was tired of their constant bickering. “BOTH OF YOU JUST, SHUT UP!” The flat was in total silence for several minutes as Sherlock sat down on his chair and Y/N began to doodle on her sketch book. The light in the room suddenly brightened and it hit Sherlock in such a way, he seemed like a heavenly celestial being. It suddenly struck Y/N as she realised she hadn’t drawn him before. The doorbell buzzed and John and Sherlock immediately looked at each other.



John and Sherlock spent the next couple of hours meeting the clients that were lined up at their door. Y/N remained in the same room, but instead on listening to the clients’ stories, she sketched Sherlock. She first started on his face, lightly drawing his face in first. After their first two clients, she had finished the basic features of his face and started to draw his eyes. Y/N loved his eyes the best of all. They were so exquisitely beautiful, one could get lost in them. An idea struck her and she promptly left the room, much to the surprise of their client, and she returned with several colour pencils of varying shades of blue and green. Slowly, yet carefully, she started to fill the vibrant colour into his eyes. Once his eyes were done, she shaded in his face, highlighting his cheekbones, smudging the shadows with her thumbs and redefining several lines. Sherlock was too engrossed in his clients that he failed to notice Y/N’s quick glances at him.


“Y/N you’ve got a notification,” John was typing away furiously at his laptop at the latest case. It had been a couple of weeks since the fiasco in the living room. Sherlock had disappeared for a case a couple of days ago. When no reply came, he peered into the screen of her phone. “It’s from Molly!” He rolled his eyes when he heard a crash and a bang; a frazzled Y/N came in, her fingers were blackened from the charcoal. She walked through the living room and unlocked the phone. When no reply came from her again, John looked at her with concern, she had a strange look on her face. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ve gotten date,” a small smile was on her face. “Tonight. At seven.” Her expression dropped a little. “When’s Sherlock getting back?” John looked at her sadly and closed his laptop lid. He walked over to where she was standing and gently gripped her by the shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he spoke softly. “He’s a bit of a prick, go enjoy your date.” Y/N hugged him tightly and kissed him on the cheek.

Couple of hours later

“I need your sketch book Y/N!” Sherlock thundered up the stairs and burst into the flat. John nor Y/N were anywhere to be seen. Bestride needed a person who could sketch and he had immediately thought of Y/N. She was likeable, she got unbearable when she didn’t have anything to do. A slip of paper on the fridge caught his eyes and he strode over to where it was was and quickly scanned it.

I’m with Rose and Y/N’s gone for a date. DON’T RUIN IT AGAIN OR NO ROSIE FOR A MONTH.

Dinner’s in the fridge, or just get take away.


Sherlock crumpled the piece of paper in his hand and threw it away. He needed Y/N so she could sketch the portrait of the murderer, but he couldn’t ruin the date. There was an alternate option of… messaging her. He wouldn’t be ruining the dat after all.

Sherlock: If you’re not terribly busy in your date, I need you ASAP.

Stuffing the phone in his Belfast, Sherlock started to look through Y/N’s room. He heard the John in his head going, “Stop going through her stuff! It’s private you prick!”. Sherlock chose to ignore it; a buzz indicated he had a new message.

John: Did you ruin her date again? I told you not to.

The consulting detective rolled his eyes and typed out a reply

Sherlock: I just said if she wasn’t busy, I needed her ASAP.

John: No Rosie for a month.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a dark, leather-bound notebook, which was precariously on the edge of her dressing table. It was a Eureka moment for Sherlock as he reached out to grab it. However, it fell to the floor and Sherlock stopped for a moment when it saw what page it had opened on. It was a portrait of him.

Sherlock gently ran this fingers over the papers, lingering on his eyes. He knew Y/N was talented, but he didn’t know she was this talented. She had cleverly used charcoal for his hair and outlined individual strands using a mechanical pencil. He could make out the softness of the tissue she had used for shading his cheek-

“Turns out I wasn’t so terribly busy on my date!” He heard a familiar voice call from the living room. “He was frankly lovely, but he didn’t like books! Imagine that! A man who didn’t like…” Y/N trailed off when she entered her own room and found her sketchbook in Sherlock’s hands.

“Books,” he completed for her. “Y/N I-I’m so…” the detective found himself lost for words; he was incredibly flustered.

“I can explain,” Y/N’s face was flushed from embarrassment. “I swear it’s nothing stalker-“

“It’s beautiful,” he cut her off again, setting the book aside. “But why me? Only deduction I can make is that-“

“I never drew you before,” Y/N admitted shyly. “That sketch was my first time, the nose is a little off and the eyes…“ she was interrupted in her rambling when he stood right in front of her; Sherlock gazed at her fondly and cupped her cheek with a gloved hand.

“Thank you,” he had a small smile on his face. Y/N, suddenly feeling a rush of bravery in her, gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she grinned shyly, from ear to ear. “For being my muse. You’re an interesting person to draw.”

“Can I be your muse more often?” he asked, with a cocky smirk on his face. Y/N laughed and elbowed him in his ribs.

“Only if you stop complaining about me all the time,” she looked over her shoulder as she walked out of the room. “What did you need? Was it Lestrade? He messaged me too!” Sherlock had stopped listening and held his hand on his cheek where she had kissed him with a small, secret knowing smile.

Requests Open!

anonymous asked:

13 - ROTC/new-to-the-Air-Force Rhodey and/or CW/post-CW Rhodey

Flying like a cannonball, falling to the earth/Heavy as a feather when you hit the dirt


The first thing Jim remembers is flying.

If he was honest, that would be a lie. His first memory is something mundane like his mother singing to him or watching TV with his father. But what he remembers most, brightest, strongest is this: standing on the ledge of his family’s second-story apartment balcony, gazing down at the little section of the tiny backyard Mrs. Turner has used for her garden (bushes grown up high, hopefully high enough) taking a breath, closing his eyes and leaping.

He remembers flying. 

That glorious moment of weightlessness fighting gravity, when he was moving faster than light, faster than sound, the fastest thing on this planet. He was invincible.

He doesn’t remember hitting the ground, but he remembers rolling off his broken arm to stare up at the blue blue sky and thinking someday it would be his. Someday he’d never have to land.

(”He fell,” his little sister Jeanette insists with a pout when his mother comes home and panics at not finding Jim where he should be. He can hear them through the window. “He fell, Mama.”

His mama looks over the balcony and screeches, going back inside. Jeanette stares at Jim through the bars of the railing. “I didn’t fall,” he tries to say, but he’s six and the pain is finally catching up to him. He can’t feel his arm. He cries when his mother picks him up.)

Keep reading

Man Jam. (Harrison Osterfield.)

Requested – Yes. Hope you like this anon.

Prompt – You love Twenty One Pilots and Panic! At The Disco and Harrison thinks you’re quite odd for liking them, but you catch him listening to them one day.

Warning – I’m not a huge fan of Panic! At The Disco so bare with me because I only know the basic songs! 

Words – 977. It’s pretty short.


Music is a sense of relief for people because that is their only way of escaping. The melody is a cure that not even a doctor can prescribe to a patient. People love the idea of lyrics inspiring them to become better versions of them. Music brings people back to the finer things in life and what it feels like to be free. It’s a person’s own personal form of clarity on reality.

Keep reading

Okay but Hogwarts and Ilvermorny comparison time?

Hogwarts may have a lake with a squid, but there is a Jackalope breeding ground in the yards of Ilvermorny.

Ilvermorny Pukwudgie cooks meeting Hogwarts house elves and being sickened by the traditions of cooking and meal times, because Pukwudgie incorporate much of Native American feasting traditions into their meal and banquet planning.

I know that it’s canon that Ilvermorny is in Massachusetts, but Ilvermorny being in the mountains of Montana, with the best scenery in the country. The Massachusetts location is still existent in a sense, that is the official address of Ilvermorny and upon the student’s arrival to that cottage, they are sent via a combination of magical and non-magical modes of transportation, ultimately leading them to Montana, where there is enough land barriers and weather limitations that it doesn’t need to employ a cloaking spell around the school for no-maj because any human who could possibly manage to find the coordinates on a map would have to incorportate magic into their research. So when some of the foreign exchange students from Hogwarts show up, they are so surprised to see witches and wizards exploring the terrain for miles and miles away from the school without having to hide who they are. This is a safe place for magical peoples and creatures, where learning and exploration is welcomed and revered above all. Those same students going back to Hogwarts to begin a new campaign for equality between Witches and Wizards and magical creatures. More trolls and centaurs begin being seen around campus, eventually leading to interspecies students in the UK.

Hogwarts students being wary of Ilvermorny at first because it was founded by an Heir of Slytherin, and the only other Heir they knew of was Voldy, so they subconsciously form a line there before reminding themselves that in America this name meant nothing but hope and pride, because this Heir of Slytherin just so happened to be the kindest and greatest witch of her age in their eyes. This improves international exchange to break down the boundaries and, as a bonus, subconsciously also break down the negative stigma that, for so long after the Battle of Howarts, Slytherin had the misfortune of holding.

Hogwarts students being shocked to later visit the North American continent and finally see in person creatures they had only ever read about in books. Adults, behold: the mighty Moose.

This is similarly seen in Ilvermorny Alumni who find themselves visiting family in Hogsmeade and being scared stiff when they stumble on one of the many Griffins of Hogwarts just munching on ferrets behind the butcher shop. “Good lawd, Amanda. Did’ya ever see sumthin like this in person?” “Fuck no Tom! These are from textbooks in History of Magic!”


History of Magic is much more recent in its current curriculum. The main focus is the history of Tribal magic and how the Medicine Men passed along their power through unknown lineages, and what the common themes were through the tribes to weed out the real from the legend, and how Witches and Wizards learned to harness that power and help transform their worlds. Witches and Wizards having such different relationships with the Natives than No-Maj colonists ever did.

Arithmancy is just called “Magic Math” because they couldn’t think of the word Arithmancy.

The towers and dungeons that existed in Hogwarts are the different “wings” of the campus, and have been known to expand to fit a growing capacity of students.

Because there is one school for all North America, special accommodations have been put into place to fit the student body. One of which is similar to a Room of Requirement, but more along the lines of giving the campus as much room as it needed in terms of housing and restrooms without changing the exterior. This was** how Arthur Weasley originally got the idea for his expanding car. The spell is a little more elaborate, but somehow doesn’t make the trek anymore arduous.

Ilvermorny being very spread out throughout miles of school campus, but travel by Floo Powder between classes was provided to arrive at your next class on time. The fireplaces are almost always closed down to outside fireplaces, only allowing you from one spot on campus to another. 

The fireplaces not allowing you to land in the fireplace of another house.

Those who don’t like Floo Powder are always welcome to use their brooms, or for Muggleborns, they have recently begun allowing bicycles and scooters between classes. As a last resort you could always run from Herbology on the Southeast corner of campus to Flying and Apparition on the Northwest corner. One student managed to run it one time, but then passed out once he got to class on time, and had to be removed by the school nurse. The students banded together to buy him a cheap broom after that, because they knew he was allergic to Floo Powder.

The school nurse being trained in both Magic and Non Magic healing, with specialties in Herbology, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and also a Muggle Medical degree in Medicine and Dermatology. The candidates are always at the top of their classes in both Muggle and Magic healing, and Pukwudgies always sit on the interview board when helping to hire this person. 

A particularly grumpy Pukwudgie who teaches Magical Healing.

Some kids growing Muggle Marijuana in the greenhouse and cross pollinating with some Gillyweed extract so that the poor Muggle kids they sell it to will not only get a new level of high, they will also be possessed with the notion and action to go on underwater adventures. 

Kids going camping in the summer. Kids who don’t like being home choosing 4H internships with Ilvermorny throughout the summer so that they can stay at Ilvermorny all year long. Unofficial summer courses are offered, like Pukwudgie Pastries, where you make baked goods with many of the staff. Archery being perfected on your broom (this was a quickly discontinued unofficial course after a second year summer student accidentally shot the unofficial instructor and he had to lay upside down for a whole week while his backside healed.

Wampus sightings in the beginning of fall, and the students who were lucky enough to see them after the first snow of the fall were considered blessed with good luck for the coming year.

Thunderbird students backpacking further and further into the mountains, often jumping off cliffs and into the rivers below for fun. It was, as they put it, “The best way to live my destiny of being a Thunderbird” and it gave them an immense sense of belonging after their first jump. The chaperones were always junior professors who, while being able to enjoy the tradition, were still qualified to help should trouble arise.

These students are allowed to practice their magic out here because, this is literally a spot that does not exist on a map of Montana. for hundreds of miles in any direction, the land exists within itself and therein lies Ilvermorny and its hundreds of miles worth of land. The school welcomes its students to explore and use magic in these lands, because it is the best way to learn how to use spells in the real world.

Ilvermorny having a strict no-bullying rule. This results in suspensions and even expulsion from Ilvermorny. Because it is a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there is no tuition bill. So bribes of money for hushing scandal go unheard and unaccepted at this school. Not that it has ever been a big problem. Ilvermorny is a forward thinking school that has, historically, been more accepting of alternative students than others in the world. But there was one year where Dorabelle Martinez got bullied by Wade Stoughton. Man, that is the year we don’t like to talk about. It was the first and last time anyone ever saw the Headmistress get angry about something. She sent letters to the Stoughton Manor in Texas, warning about behavior that was unacceptable. They sent her a gift basket with fruit in it and a check to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for a shameful amount of money. The next morning, the Stoughtons woke up in their manor, as usual. Mrs. Stoughton walked downstairs to get her morning iced tea, as usual. It would be made by Gloria Martinez, as usual. She turned the corner only to find Gloria in tears holding a letter with the Ilvermorny Crest on it. Wade was not only expelled, he was barred from attending any school for Witchcraft and Wizardry from here on. He stood in his pajamas clutching three suitcases and his cat sat on his shoulder.

Students at Ilvermorny who are part of Native Tribes are often referred to by their Earth Names once they arrive at school. This is not a move to draw attention to the fact that the names are different, but rather a more apt communication of who that person is in their soul. Dancing Otter hasn’t been referred to as Lauren in two years and she has never had so much positive self confidence because they know who she really is.

Muggle studies and History being a thing at Ilvermorny because in North America you are expected to know Muggle History of the top of your head, and it’s a good way to hide in plain sight.

Winters Child

A/n: based on my headcannon that at some point, Winter fathered a child & later got said child away from Hydra. They meet more than 30 years later when Leverage Inc. needs help from Tony Stark.

Warnings: language, a bit of angst, a bit of fluff

Bucky had been out of cryo for a year and was doing well. Some nights he had nightmares, some nights his dreams were memories coming back. In the beginning they were mostly of Steve, various girls and the army. As time went by though, he began to remember a small woman holding a baby. A baby that had very familiar brown hair and blue eyes.

 At first he thought they may have been victims, but he never dreamed of their deaths, he dreamed of their lives. He dreamed small glimpses of a growing child, starting with a newborn then crawling and then a toddler. He dreams of seeing them all together, of the child running to him with arms open wide, he can almost feel the small yet strong arms trying to wrap around him. He can almost feel the tears on his face & then he’s in the chair. He screams, desperately trying to hold on to the memories they’re pulling away from him. Soon he dreams of an older child, maybe 5 or 6. they’re being watched closely while the Soldier trains the boy in many different fighting styles.

*Winter Soldier POV*

The Soldier calls him Eliot, he is smart and quickly masters everything he’s shown.

The scientists seem pleased with his progress, so much so, they mention sending him on missions. The Soldier doesn’t typically question his handlers. He is wiped every time he starts to show emotion, this is the longest he’s managed to stay out of the chair. He’s feeling more and more emotions, feeling like the man he wasn’t supposed to be anymore. It’s not easy, it takes a lot of energy to keep up the act, but he has to protect the child. He has to get him out of there. He couldn’t save her, but he can save the child. He has to try.

When he hears their plan for Eliot, he knows he can’t wait any longer. It’s very risky. He doesn’t dare escape with the boy, it would be too dangerous. As much as it kills him, he has to send the boy alone.

He’s ordered to take the boy on his first mission, thankfully it’s a mission where he has no contact with his handlers until it’s finished. He bribes a flight attendant sends the boy to America with forged documents. He knew what he had to do, he had to fuck something up so they wiped him. It was killing him but he had no choice. He had to forget, it was the only way to protect his son.

He sees him once, it’s been a long time, but he could never mistake his son. While he may look the same way he did the day he said goodbye, Eliot has grown up. He’s now a grown man, a soldier, a very good one at that.

*Bucky’s POV*

He doesn’t dream of the boy again. He tries to push away the memories, unsure if he’s imagined them or worse, they’re real and if by some miracle they met and his son remembered him, what if he hated him? He doesn’t tell the team about him, he doesn’t want to disrupt any more lives. Surely his son is married with his own family by now. How confusing would it be for grandpa to show up looking younger than their dad? No, he’d leave it alone. His secret to cherish, a glimmer of life in a sea of death.

“Alright everybody, gather around. We’ve got a group coming in that needs our help. Apparently, they pick up where the law leaves off. Their words, not mine. Anyway, they’re entering the compound as I speak and I want you all to help where you can” Tony gives a nod and leads the way downstairs.

“Mr. Ford! Welcome to the Avengers compound. I hope you enjoy your time here. FRIDAY! Please make sure they have access to the appropriate places.” A loud snort is heard from the couple in the back. “Mr. Stark it would appear that they already have full access thanks to Alec Hardison.” “FRIDAY, you’re supposed to tell me when there’s a hacking attempt” *squeal* “it’s FRIDAY!! Parker, he’s talking to FRIDAAAY!!!!”

A muscular brunette steps out from behind Mr. Ford, a small gasp can be heard from the Sergeant in the back. “DAMMIT HARDISON!!! We need their help. You’re not supposed to hack them.” “Eliot, I’m a hacker, that’s my thing. I hack.” “There’s something wrong with you. Wait, was that your impression of me? That was fucking terrible!” “Oh come on Eliot, that was perfect.” “No Hardison, it sounded like a coked up John Wayne.”

Bucky steps forward cautiously, he’s telling himself he should run. Everything in him is screaming to get out of there before it’s too late, before his fragile world comes crashing down. He can’t stop himself though, he’s so close, he has to know. So he pulls up every bit of courage he has and takes the final step forward. He can see Nate’s eyebrows raising, the man suspects something.

“Eliot” his voice is strained, it’s barely a whisper. It’s enough to silence the room though and get the attention of the arguing men. He clears his throat, his voice is stronger this time. “Eliot? Is that you?” Blue eyes, so similar to his own, meet his. They simply stare, both drinking in the sight of the other, both wondering if this is real or simply a dream.

Eliot finds his voice first, crying out “Papa!!” tears coming into the hitters eyes and suddenly they’re running, twin murder struts quickly closing the distance as the two men embrace. Bucky is crying he can’t seem to choose between holding his son in his arms and holding his face between his hands. They finally end up kneeling on the floor, alternating between hugging each other close and pulling back to see how the years have changed them both. Eliot is clearly older than his father now, a fact which amazes and confuses him.

Finally Steve breaks the state of shock that both teams had been left in by running forward to pull them both up. He can’t stop the smile from splitting his face as Eliot and Bucky stumble over each other’s words to tell their remarkable story. Tony and Nate eventually manage to herd everyone into the living room. Both heading for the bar to worry over the idea of there being two Barnes men in the world.

“So wait wait wait, Eliot, you’re telling me that you’re father is a former Russian assassin from the 40’s?!?!!!” “Yeah, I never said anything because I knew what would happen if they found out. They would’ve punished him severely for letting me go. Had I come back, they would’ve killed him and taken me. When I read about him on the news, I wanted so badly to look him up but I was afraid he wouldn’t remember me. I didn’t want him to feel guilty over forgetting his kid.” Sam pipes up, “well I still can’t believe that ole Winter had a kid. Am I the only one freaking out?” Hardison is quick to assure him he’s not.

The team eventually calms down and when night falls they all go their separate ways, each to their own rooms. The two soldiers stay up talking though, neither is ready to leave the other yet. Both slightly fearful that they’ll wake up and find that it was all a dream. They finally fall asleep on the couch, the teams find them the next morning, Eliot’s head on Bucky’s thigh, a metal arm draped protectively over him. Of course Tony takes a picture and sends it to everyone. It’s the most useless yet precious bit of blackmail he’s ever collected.

I hope y'all enjoy this, it turned out differently than I’d expected but I like this much better. I hope y'all do as well.

@bolontiku @ryverpenrad @suz123 @whiskeyandwashitape @swtwtrgin @tilltheendwilliwrite @this-kitty-has-claws @frenchtherainbow @theimpossiblegirl @pegasusdragontiger @misshyen @andreaatlyss @sarazzprime @becaamm @supersoldierslover @sebstanfanma @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @taleasedubh @loricameback @pathybo @irachyroo-blog

Sorry if I missed anyone

Girls Night

 This was it, your first girls night in ages. You, Nat, Wanda and Maria had gone out for a nice dinner and drinks, nothing outrageous; you’d told your babysitters you’d be home around 10:30. But about halfway through the night you started to get hundreds of texts flooding your phone. Okay, hundreds was a dramatic way of putting it but still.

 It started about five minutes after you got your meal,


    Hey, Lily is too young for Astro-Physics right?


    Ignore Barnes everything is fine.

 You chuckled to yourself and didnt reply to either of them. You would have had your husband watch Lily, it would have been ideal, but with him out of town you were left with no other option but earth’s mightiest heros to watch your toddler. Fifteen minutes later and…


    Okay, just so you know, Tony is going to have your walls re-painted. Lily and Steve got super into finger painting. There might be a Van Gogh in the hallway courtesy of the captain.

 You almost choaked but managed to keep a straight face at the table.

 “You good?” Wanda asked catching the brief struggled you’d had.

 “Yeah, I’m just starting to second guess my babysitting choices.” You chuckled.

 “Oh, no. What happened?” Maria asked taking a sip of her wine.

 “Nothing, I think.” You checked your phone for anymore texts and were relieved to see there were none.

 The evening continued on nicely and then came the dessert course.


   Lily had mac n’ cheese for dinner with some carrots and peaches.


   What Bucky isn’t telling you is that he’s spoiled your daughter and also gave her three scoops of ice cream, popcorn and a half a snickers bar.


   Sam talks to birds, you can’t believe a thing he says.

 You took a deep breath and ignored them. If she had that much sugar she should go crazy for a bit and then crash. It was fine. It’s gonna be fine.

 You and the girls got your check but decided to hit up a coffee shop since you didn’t have to be back for another hour and a half. You had just gotten your drink when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket.



 She was crying? Well, had Thor figured out how to turn off the caps lock on his phone, this would propbably seem less dramatic.

 “Ladies,” You said with a sigh.

 “They can’t handle it, can they?” Nat asked with a smirk.

 “No.” You smiled as everyone headed for the door. “And apparently Lily is crying.”

 “Poor thing.” Wanda cooed.


   What’s Lily’s favorite movie?


   If I promise to take her to Disney do you think she would calm down enough to go to sleep?


   My mom used to give me a spoonfull of Gin to get me to go to sleep. Is that allowed?

 You panicked and fumbled to text Bucky back.


   I’ve locked Mr. Barnes out of the liquor cabnets, the bar downstairs, and Mr. Stark’s personal collection.

 You sighed and braced yourself on Natasha showing them the texts that had stopped your heart. They thought it was funnier than you did.


   Meg, I’m so sorry. I’ve tried everything but she really wants you.

 - I’m headed back now. ETA 10 minutes. Tell her I’m coming and put on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. The one called “Little Parade”.


 You took a deep breath and looked out the window of the cab. Eight more minutes and you could hold your baby.

The cab ride was short and you found yourself almost sprinting to the elevators at Stark Tower. When the doors finally opened you followed the sound of Mickey and the gang and found Lily and the boys watching the T.V.

 Bucky was holding Lily and he whispered something in her ear. She snapped her head around and climbed out of his lap, running to your arms.

 You scooped her up and could see that she had been crying pretty hard. She held onto you pretty tight and within minutes was asleep on your shoulder.

 You thanked everyone for their help and took Lily to your room, tonight you’d snuggle your baby and make sure you were there when she woke up in the morning. She was your world and you’d give up ever going out again just to be with her.