i wish i had looked these up before editing a 30 page paper

I Can Change Your Name

Here it is! I hope everyone enjoys it! This is only my second fanfic so if anyone has any pointers, I would sure appreciate it! :)

I do not own Fairy Tail or the characters, Hiro Mashima does. 

Rating: t

Pairings: nalu

Characters: natsu, lucy, lucy’s boss (unnamed character)

“Lucy! I expect to see those papers gone through and edited on my deck be the end of the day.”

“Yes, sir.” Lucy flashed a fake smile to her boss.

“And I don’t care how long it takes I want it done!” Lucy’s boss barked

“Of course you don’t care.” she mumbles under her breath.

“What was that, Heartfilia?”

“I said I’ll have it done as soon as I can. Sir.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

Lucy worked for The Magnolia Papers. Her official title was the “paid intern”. In other words, she was treated like nothing and expected to do everything. She did the editing on all the papers and wrote most of the papers. She sometimes even designed the papers. But, she never got the credit, she was only the intern after all, and her boss wasn’t about to give her credit. All she wanted was a little recognition here and there. She knew the business wouldn’t be as successful without her, so she sucked it up and did her job.

When Lucy sat down at her deck to see how many papers she had to read and edit, she almost yelled. 400 papers. She had to read and edit 400 papers by the end of the day. Lucy wanted to crumble on the ground and cry and scream. But she wouldn’t. No, she wouldn’t. That was exactly what her boss wanted. Her boss had wanted her gone the second she was hired. Luckily her boss was only the supervisor for their branch so he had little to no authority over who was hired and fired. The only reason he wanted her fired was because her last name was Heartfilia. Lucy wasn’t too fond of her name either though. Her father had done bad things to good people. Unfortunately for Lucy, no matter how hard she worked or how kind she was, she would always have that last name.

“Five papers to go.” She thought to herself.

The words on the pages were starting to move around the page but she wouldn’t give up.  

“Done! Finally done.”

Sighing from exhaustion she looked around to see if anyone else was left at the office. When she didn’t see anyone, she looked at the clock to see how late it was.

“10:30 already? Wow, I better get home.”

Lucy dropped the pile of papers off at her boss’s desk and went out to her car to go home.

As Lucy walked through her apartment door she saw her boyfriend laying on the couch watching TV.


“Oh, hey Luce! How was your day?”

“Awful! Just Awful.” Lucy pouted.

Natsu frowned at her response and opened his arms. Lucy didn’t waste a second before jumping into them.

“What happened?” he asked as he adjusted himself so they could both lay on the couch.

“My boss made me read and edit 400 papers! 400 papers Natsu! You would not believe how bad of a head ache I have right now. I didn’t even get a break today! I don’t understand why he treats me like this.”

“I’m so sorry, Lucy. I wish there was something I could do.”

Natsu pulled her in closer to him. Lucy laid her head on his chest enjoying his natural heat. She had always loved how warm he was. When he held her, she always felt so calm. It was as if his warmth wrapped around her, shielding her from any worries.

“Do you know what else he did?” Lucy pulled away slightly to look in his eyes.

“What did he do?”

“He had the audacity to call me by my last name. Maybe he would like me more, or at least treat me better if I had a different one.” She sighed as she laid back down on Natsu. She closed her eyes wanting to forget about the terrible day she had just had.

“Hey, Luce?” Natsu said after a few minutes.

“Hmmm?” She hummed with her eyes still closed.

“I know you don’t like your last name now but, maybe I can change it.”

Lucy opened her eyes and saw a silver band with a small diamond in the middle. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out.

Natsu moved from the couch and knelt to the ground.

“Lucy, will you… Will you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes, Natsu!

With shaky hands Natsu reached to grab Lucy’s hand to put her ring on her finger.

When Natsu was finished, she leaned in for a kiss. Lucy’s day might have started out rough but, her earlier worries had completely slipped her mind.


I heard this adorable little experience about what they had done to meet the love of their life. Naturally I needed to turn it into a Crisscolfer ficlet. Hope you like it :) ~1,715 words. 

“So are you going to the cast party tonight?” Darren asked, laying down on the couch, flipping through channels on Chris’ television set.

For someone who he’d only been dating for a few weeks, Chris loved how at ease Darren was in his house. He made it a home. He wouldn’t distance himself, especially when Chris wanted him nearby, and he loved that about the man currently lounging on his sofa.

Keep reading

How Sherlock Got His Bees

Monday, January 6th. Or better know to some people as Sherlock Holmes’ Birthday. 

It wasn’t like they were going to forget, no matter how much Sherlock tried to deny he liked it: ‘Such a trivial thing, to celebrate the day one was born. Really, I’m not that self centered. Everyone is born.

This comment was always met with a roll of the recipient’s eyes. 

However, the fact that Sherlock wouldn’t - and he wouldn’t - stop asking about what his friends were doing on that particular Monday was almost solid proof that he wanted people to acknowledge that he had, in fact, been born. 

So, Greg, Molly, John and Mary (Mrs. Hudson and even Wiggins had chipped in too) worked together to give Sherlock a lovely birthday. It would be small, just a surprise (if they could keep it a surprise) party, that he would return to after John had taken him out on a case that same day. 

Monday 6th January

They were all shuffling around, John had just texted Greg to say that they were 5 minutes away and that he didn’t think he suspected anything. 

They were each positioned around the living room, each with a party popper. 

There had been an argument about the need of party poppers, however, Mary had settled it.

Molly’s present for Sherlock was packed away in her rucksack. She initially hadn’t a clue of what to buy him. That was until a couple of weeks ago last Thursday. It had been a very insightful conversation: 

“Sherlock?” She asked, blowing on her to-hot-to-drink tea, “What do you like to do other than this?” Her hand gestured over the body he was analyzing with a fierce scrutiny. 

He looked up to her and his furrowed eyebrows relaxed. 

“Well, a lot of things, actually.” He announced, straightening up. 

“Yes…What like?” Molly urged. 

“Well…I mean, I like to read. Did you know I can read at a rate of-” He sat on a lab stool, staring to ramble off in his usual way which Molly knew he did when he wasn’t familiar with something. Molly quickly interjected:

“Yes Sherlock, It probably is very fast. I believe you. But, tell me, what sort of books do you like?” 

“I like to read some factual stuff, the more philosophical kind, I think you could probably understand why the books made up purely of facts alone would bore me,” 

“Yes, yes, I could imagine why.” Molly assured, taking a sip of her tea but still keeping her eye on Sherlock. 

“But I think I like reading classic and adventure novels most of all. They’re my favourite. Always have been.”  Sherlock wandered off, thinking about how he used to sit in his garden completely engrossed by different adventure novels that his mum would take him to buy every month at the local bookstore in town. His favourite being Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. he had read that book about 45 times by the time he was 10. 

After several minutes of silence, Molly piped up again:

“Anything else?” 

“Oh.” Sherlock was bought out of his little ponder.“Ah…yes…and Bees.” He finalised, turning back to the body, busying himself. 

“Bees?” Molly asked, confused. 

“Yes, well, I grew up in the country and My father kept beehives. We used to make our own honey and, as a child, I was fascinated with them; the way they carried their pollen, the different jobs within the hive, how we humans depended on such small creatures.” 

“Wow.” Molly hadn’t realised she had spoken until it was too late.

“What?” He asked, confused as to why she sounded so fascinated. They were only bees. 

“Oh, never mind, I just…I just…didn’t think that you would…you know…” 

“Care about a little thing like that?”  He finished, raising an eyebrow, but also staring at her intensely. 

So after Molly finished work, she decided to take a trip to her favourite bookstore in search for some adventure books and, hopefully, a book about beekeeping.  

That had been when a neat little thought popped into her head. 

What if she could give Sherlock bees? 

She knew she couldn’t really give him a load of bees, however, after a lot of internet searching, she adopted him a beehive in his home county of the Sussex Downs, a couple of days after she got the gift pack and a certificate - Molly slipped the certificate in between the pages of an ancient looking beekeeping book she had managed to find at the bookstore. She also bought old editions of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, A Journey to the Center of the Earth, The Hobbit and Treasure Island. All little boy’s books, she remarked, however, the idea of a little version of Sherlock, sat, reading similar books and being absolutely enthralled was too much and so she just had to buy them and see if they would turn him back to 9 years old again. 


They could all hear him coming up the stairs and when John opened the door they all burst out: 


Party poppers popped and streams of coloured paper covered the sitting room.  

He was trying so desperately to cover up how much he loved this surprise. 

As the bangers stopped, Sherlock quietly muttered:


Before everyone came rushing towards him with hugs and presents and well wishings. All except Molly, she stayed back and simply smiled at him. 

She decided she would give her present without the company of others. Not sure that he would want other people to see his softer side. She understood now that she was the only one to know about his nightmares - yes, Sherlock Holmes had nightmares - his younger, more troubled days, the days when he was ‘dead’ and now she knew about his hobbies. It was a strange relationship they had. 

An hour later

Wiggins and Greg were already drunk and John and Mrs Hudson were tipsy. The party atmosphere was definitely in swing. 

While it was loud and everyone was chatting, this was when Molly decided to make her move. She just needed to get him away for a couple of seconds and then he could re-enter with a nice, new present. 

She walked up behind him - he was talking to John and ‘Billy’ - and tapped him light;y on the shoulder, 

“Sherlock could I talk to you for a second? Outside?” 

“Of course.” He answered her, putting down his champagne glass. 

Wiggins wolf-whistled as they stepped out onto the landing. 


I need to give you your present.” Molly explained, shuffling around in the rucksack. 

“Why out here?” he quizzed as he waited, looking at Molly who seemed to be fumbling around an awful lot. 

She finally found what she had been looking for and answered him:

“I didn’t think you’d want the others to see it.” 


“I don’t know, I guess it’s sort of more personal to you.” 

She handed him the five packages, wrapped in brown paper with string. 

“Sorry about the wrapping it’s a bit-” she commented, worrying herself. 

“-No, it’s fine really.” Sherlock took the wrapping off the first book. “Oh.” He remarked, looking at the used and abused cover of an oh-so-familiar children’s novel. 

“Oh god, you hate it don’t you.” she squirmed, “I thought it was a bit risky. I’m sorry. I can take them back and give you money instead. I-” She had noticed his face which looked neither happy nor angry. She knew Sherlock was good at hiding his emotions, however, she just had a gut feeling he didn’t like it. She hid her pink cheeks under her hands. 

However, Sherlock quickly interrupted her worried thoughts by prising her hands away from her face and smiling. 

“Molly. Please stop worrying. I love it.” 

“You do?” 

“Yes. I do. This was - no, is - my favourite book. I used to read it on our lawn, or in my father’s chair in the winter, when I was a child. My copy was never as beautiful as this though. Thank you.” 

Sherlock leaned in and kissed her cheek slowly and as he pulled away she told him:

“There are more Sherlock!” and pointed excitedly at the others in his hands. 

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer elicited an interested noise from him and he told her how he never got to read this as a child, but Mycroft had a copy but would not let him even breathe on it.  A Journey to the Center of the Earth made Sherlock regale her in how he had found a rabbit hole while he was walking the dog one day and tried to enter the centre of the earth through it, but eventually got stuck and Mycroft came looking for him a couple of hours later. The Hobbit was a book both Molly and Sherlock had read many times, however it never got old and they said that they would try and read it together again at some point. 

As Sherlock opened the Beekeeping book, the small certificate fell to the floor. 

On picking it up he gasped:

“You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered you idiot. I’m not going to forget that you like to look after bees.” She giggled, trying to find the gift pack she had gotten on sponsoring a beehive. 

As she gave the small collection of things to him, she saw how perfectly excited he looked. 

“You know you really didn’t have to buy me anything Molly.” He added, looking up to her after finally finishing flicking through all the beekeeping guides. 

“Of course I did. It’s your birthday, everyone needs something on their birthday, even if they are Sherlock Holmes.” 

“Molly you really should be getting the present. Your too good sometimes. So patient.” He sighed defeatedly, pilling the presents up in his arms. 

Molly couldn’t help but pull him into a hug and return his earlier kiss on the cheek. 

“Happy Birthday Sherlock Holmes.” 

40 years later

“I’m worried about those bees Molly.” Sherlock moaned for the umpteenth time as his wife came and sat down beside him in her chair next to the fire. 

“Sherlock, they’ll be fine. The people at the apiary know just what to do.” She squeezed his hand, knowing from 30 years experience that whenever there was a particularly cold winter - and I mean when wasn’t there - he wanted his bees to be safe and sound. She thought that given half the chance, he would move them in here with them. That certainly wouldn’t work, not with the dog. 

“But-” he protested before Molly cut him off. 

“Sherlock, we’ve owned those bees for 40 years, admittedly they aren’t the same ones we started out with, but we’ve kept the hive healthy, I mean we even moved down here for gods sake, just so you could spend more time looking after them; and you have. Lots of new baby bees were born and not a single one has died from any of those 40 winters. Not one. So, please stop worrying and enjoy your god damn birthday.” 

He had been shut up by Molly once again and he squeezed her hand back before he took out his reading book and Molly took out hers. 

“The Hobbit, Chapter 2: Roast Mutton…” She read.