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lysmune · 4 years

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Promises of

A thousand things that she believes the Demon Prince to be, and a thousand times he proves her wrong.

(Diavolo/F!Reader)

Promises of a painful, slow death is what she believes he’ll give her, but a radiant smile dispels her fears. With liquid ambrosia for eyes and vermillion-struck hair, she’s never seen someone so intimidating, so contrary.

“I hope your year in the Devildom is a great one!” the stranger chirps, loud and booming, and friendly.

“Thank you,” is all she manages.

Promises of a scornful, prideful visage is what she believes is his flair, but he bears no ill-will towards the hubris of humanity. A thousand lights splayed below the balcony, a gaze set onto the distant future, graced by the soft glow of hope, he tells her that he wishes for peace, more than anything.

“Don’t all you demons despise us?” she piques and he laughs deeply, sonorous in the never ending darkness.

“Maybe, but I,” and he turns to look at her with a gentleness that she’s never thought to find in a hell-spawned man, “I find human souls, flawed as they are, beautiful.”

Promises of friendship is what she believes would be the farthest thing possible, but when he calls her in invitation to see the black roses blooming in his greenhouse, she finds that maybe, it isn’t the most far-fetched situation.

“Look!” he exclaims excitedly, pointing towards a small bird, tufted in crimson, its winding onyx tail fluttering as it perches itself on the flower’s stem. “It’s a black-tailed canary. It’s a bird native to the Devildom.”

“How pretty,” she comments, watching the bird fixate its beady eyes on her before it takes off into flight.

Lord Diavolo chuckles beside her. “Seeing such lovely things up close really does lift my spirits,” he murmurs in awe, in wonder, underscored by a melancholia she can’t quite fathom.

In response, she presses her hand on his shoulder, humming in agreement; he simply smiles.

Promises of gold is what she believes would catch his fancy, but his curiosity lies in the fleeting moments caught in polaroids. From swirling pink blossoms to the grin of an aquarium’s beluga, to the cascading reds of a maple autumn and a white winter’s falling snow; he finds joy in all these.

“This is my favourite,” he notes fondly and she leans over to look at the object of his attraction. It is the simple snapshot of a summer daybreak, the first light of dawn. “The sun never rises here in the Devildom, so I’ve always been curious about it. Your world’s truly blessed.”

How the Underworld’s Prince is so much of an optimist, she’d probably never know, but it warms her to see him so full of life.

When he passes the picture back to her, she shakes her head and, with more than a little uncertainty, presses her fingers against his hand.

“Keep it,” she insists. “Consider it a gift for the hospitality you’ve shown me.”

Promises of an uneventful night is a relatively easy feat, she believes, but the seven brothers prove her wrong when she’s crowned the guest of honour. They shower her with neatly wrapped gifts, words of gratitude and a group hug so earnest it moves her to tears.

They take turns dancing with her tonight, seven brothers gliding through seven different musical pieces. Mammon steps up into a bold, thrilling hustle; Leviathan sways with unusual confidence in a jazzy foxtrot; Satan twirls her into a fittingly passionate tango; Asmodeus sweeps her around in an excelsior schottische; Beelzebub rounds a blustering, grinning quickstep; Belphegor drifts into a draping, dreamy carousel and Lucifer, unsurprisingly, leads her gracefully into a viennese waltz.

What does surprise her, however, is when the Prince comes up to her, requesting her for a dance. “If you’re not too tired, of course.”

She smiles and places her hand atop his, letting his fingers curl around hers. “No, it would be my honour,” is all it takes for him to capture her breath in a slow, seamless waltz that lasts a beat longer than it should.

Promises of a shrinking distance isn’t what she foresaw, but he is insistent in having her company, which she, admittedly, isn’t too bothered about. He greets her jovially when he meets her in front of AkuDonald’s, dressed down in a maroon Oxford shirt and beige khakis, a pair of shades completing his look; she wonders if that’s his way of avoiding attention.

As they both stand in line, he strikes up polite conversation, questioning her how she’s been, how her classes are going, how she’s finding RAD and the seven brothers, and she is, quite frankly, genuinely surprised by how much she’s come to enjoy the entire affair. He’s about to answer when they hit the front of the line, a tired looking demon snippily asking for their order.

Like always, she goes for the fried shadow goose AkuBurger, the six-pack AkuGizzards and a blushberry slushie. He takes a little more time deciding, but eventually settles for the Hellfire DoubleAkuBurger and a Blackburn coffee before he insistently pays for their meal. Tipping her head down in thanks, she takes the tray and leads him towards a relatively private corner in the joint where he tucks into his lunch undisturbed.

“Do you come here often?” he prompts and she shrugs, swallowing her food down.

“Enough,” she responds. “The food here is generally safe for me to not die from.”

He chuckles. “Not a fan of Devildom cuisine?”

“Just not nearly as bold to eat something with ‘Double Poison’ tacked onto it,” she explains. Catching him eyeing her gizzards, she picks one up in between her fingers and offers it to him. “They’re good.”

Leaning forward, without so much of a warning, he takes it from her hand with his teeth and she stiffens, embarrassed, unsure if he’s being serious or just messing with her, or if he’s just dense.

“You’re right,” he answers, happily smiling as he licks his lips, “they are.”

She tries not to think about it too hard, simply nodding in agreement before they pass the rest of the time with small-talk, light banter and the never-ending cringe of dad jokes so terrible she has to laugh at each one. Once they’ve finished and exited the premises, he thanks her for her time today, smiling as he always does.

“I had a lot of fun,” she gladly admits, to which he hums, pleased.

“I did, too,” he reciprocates and then, a little less playfully, a little more seriously, “If it’s alright with you, let me walk you home.”

“You don’t -“

“I want to,” he assures, insists. “I enjoy your company and I’d like us to spend more time together.”

She warms at his boldness, more evident today than any other, at the way he tentatively reaches for her hand in consent, in invitation, and she accepts it with a nod. With a smile that crinkles his eyes and a careful hold, he leads her back to the House of Lamentation.

Promises of constant contact is something she’s sure he isn’t one to keep, especially given his consistently packed schedule, but when she’s back in the Human World, her D.D.D rings most often with his name.

He fills her days with updates on work, on Lucifer’s increasingly baggy eyes, lamenting at how much less bright the Devildom is without her.

“You’re being dramatic,” she chuckles as she picks up a carton of eggs. “It’s not that bad.”

“No, it is,” he implores with a huff. “The brothers miss you, including Lucifer, even if he denies it. Teasing him is no fun anymore,” he protests and she clicks her tongue at him. There’s a pause before a sigh, then, “I’m not being honest here.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeats; “I miss spending my time with you, I miss being able to see you, I miss talking to you in person. I miss you; I miss you a lot.”

She runs her fingers through her hair and oh, fuck, he really shouldn’t spring these things onto her. She’s sure he can hear her heart over the phone when it’s this loud.

Tightening her grip on the trolley’s handle, she responds with an, “I miss you, too.”

Promises of staying away are best upheld because they’re the smarter option, the safer option, but when she’s back in the Devildom, she‘s compelled to see him again. Barbatos directs her to his study, knocking on the door before he leaves her by the room just as Lord Diavolo lets her in.

The wind is knocked right out of her chest when he scoops her into a tight hug and she eases into his arms, burying her face into his chest. He smells faintly of warm spice and agarwood, of a familiarity she’s sorely longed for.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers, the hint of a tremble in his voice.

“I am, too.”

Promises of subtlety is a given, she believes, but he hasn’t much thought for it when he clasps a golden bracelet onto her wrist. It is a simple chain, studded with tiny opals, and much too lavish for someone who’s come here as an exchange student.

“This is a little excessive, don’t you think?” she asks, raising a brow as she fiddles with the accessory, to which he frowns.

“Do you not like it?” he inquires and she shakes her head.

“No, I do,” she assures, and she really does. It’s a beautiful piece of jewellery, it’s just that, “I’m not quite sure if I’m so deserving of such things.”

At that, he takes her hand, pulling her a little closer. “You are,” he affirms softly, gently lacing his fingers with hers. “Let me be a little selfish.”

She chuckles. “You’re being selfish by giving me a gift?”

“No,” he replies as he levels her with a crackling, sparking gaze and her heart skips a beat. “I’m being selfish because I want you to myself.”

Promises of indulgence are what she believes to be a demon’s domain, but he simply holds her in his arms most nights, content with the simple pleasure of having her there with him, of talking to her, of hearing her say his name without the formalities.

“You’re not anything like I thought a demon would be,” she muses as he hugs her tighter from behind, letting her head rest on the line of his shoulder.

He chuckles, pressing his lips to hers sweetly, briefly. “No?”

“I expected them to be a little more ...” she trails off in search for a word, then, “churlish.”

“I can be,” he mumbles while he lazily nibbles at her ear, patterns kisses into her jaw and the exposed column of her neck. “I’m just being polite.”

She hums. “Maybe.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” she responds with a peck to his cheek, hand coming up to the side of his head, pulling him closer against her. “I think you’re just a touch holy.”

His skims her skin with tongue and teeth, breaths warm, chuckling as he does. “You’re bold to say that to the Prince of Hell.”

Promises of a Lord unshaken is what she believes the demons see, but behind all the closed doors, he bares his vulnerability to her against the starless, perpetual nights.

“Do you want to talk, Diavolo?” she asks. He’s silent for a moment before he offers his hand to her. She takes it and he pulls her to his side, letting his arm drape down to hold her at her waist.

Overlooking the city sprawled under him, he sighs. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing,” he confesses under his breath, the uncertainty wavering his voice. “I want peace between all the realms, but do they? Do my people?”

"You don’t think they want that?”

“We’re demons. War is within our very nature,” he states simply, pressing her a little closer to him. “A few of us are fallen angels, others human, but most demons were born here, and all of us are vengeful, resentful creatures,” he murmurs; she says nothing. “The fallen angels want nothing to do with the Celestial Realm, the human-turned-demons carry over their hate and the rest of us have just always had a taste for destruction.

“For most of us, we’ve always felt like the two worlds looked at us with nothing but contempt. When Heaven smites an angel unruly, they’re punished into being a devil; when humans talk about eternal torture, we’re the very picture of it. Demons are a proud folk, we give back the respect we’ve been shown, but when everyone has only ever hated us, what is there to be but bitter? And the cycle keeps going, it has for the last thousands of centuries.”

“I’m sorry,” is all she can offer and he chuckles.

“Please, it’s alright,” he assures with a smile, though it’s wearied with the burdens of a leader. “I’m just ... wondering.”

She isn’t sure what to say to him, if she can even comfort him. She’s no angel, or demon, and even as a human, she’s never been a particular occult; she’s just an exchange student who lacks understanding of the tension’s nuance.

“Look, hey,” she starts, “I know I’m not the best person to say it, but your people respect you. They might squabble with Heaven or us humans, but they’ve put their trust in you; otherwise, in all honesty, I think they’d have just eaten me and Solomon alive.”

He cracks a small, tiny smile at that.

“You needed mutual agreement between all the realms for this exchange program, and you did it. If that tells me anything, it’s that they’re probably tired of all the fighting, too,” she surmises. He laughs, just barely, before he bends down to kiss her forehead, letting it linger.

When he pulls away, he says, “Thank you, that helped.”

“Did it?”

He hums. “A little,” he responds, loosening his grip on her. “I need to be alone for a while, is that okay?”

“Take all the time,” she answers. Placing a quick kiss onto his cheek, she turns on her heel and walks away. Comforting demon royalty isn’t something she’s good at, and maybe she never will be, but space? Space is something she can give him.

Promises of ‘unto death do us part’ is tradition, the idea of a romance that spans the fire of life until it’s snuffed out by a swing of the scythe, but she believes that mortality is fickle to him. A being of a thousand years that will live on for a thousand more, and she fills in the mere potential century; a year for him is a decade for her.

Yet here he is, knotting the string of his life to her in promise. “Make a pact with me,” he declares, bringing her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles as though she were royalty.

Her breath hitches. “Diavolo.”

“Let me be yours,” the demon pleads, yearns, longs and she’s a little taken aback by the openness of it all.

“You don’t have to,” she says but he surges, drawing her in.

“I want to,” he asserts, unyielding, though she’s still unconvinced.

An act of binding. That’s what it means to be tied down to a contract, and she knows full well what the consequences are, for the both of them, should any of them trespass their terms. With the seven brothers, she did as the situation demanded, but with Diavolo, there’s absolutely nothing that warrants it.

He seems to sense her unease, because he squeezes her hand, brings her closer. “It’ll be fine,” he assures; “Let me show you what you mean to me.”

“I know where I stand with you,” she tells him as she raises a hand to cup his cheek.

“Do you?” he asks in rhetoric, pressing his lips against her pulse, eyes locking onto hers. “You needn’t ask and I’d gladly give a century of my life for you, freely offer you my soul, and even if you love me less, leave me for a human, I’d regret none of it.”

She swallows his words when he presses his lips to hers, wholly engulfed by the sincerity of it all. Gentle as always, tender as always, and none of the demon she’d thought he’d be, his hand coming up to caress her face. He leaves her lightheaded, breathless, forehead touching hers, the warmth between them near unbearable.

“I trust you, utterly and entirely; let me show you that I do,” he murmurs and she clasps her hands behind his neck, her lips hovering above his.

“Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?”

He chuckles. “I’m afraid not.”

Promises of sacrifice and loyalty, they aren’t taken lightly by the laws of a contract, but he pledges himself anyway, so readily and so staunchly she almost falters.

In reverence, he traces the mark - his mark - that runs from her shoulder and coils around her arm, marvelling at the sight of it. “Was it painful?” he asks as he glances to her, worry underscoring his words.

She shrugs and offers him a smile in hopes it’ll reassure him. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Leaning in to thumb a kiss to her clavicle, he chuckles low. “Sometimes I forget you’ve made pacts with the seven strongest demons here,” he says and the pride in his voice makes her chest swell.

“Eight,” she corrects while she cards her fingers through his hair, trailing the curl of his horns, eliciting a quiet, pleased hum from him.

“Eight,” he repeats in satisfaction before he lifts his head up to meet her and she, emboldened, enraptured, captures his lips in fervour.

Agarwood and warm spice, she drinks the taste of him, smoky lapsang and carbon ashen. He spills her name into her mouth, once more into the spellbound night when she punctures a soft bite into the juncture of his neck, a hymnic praise that makes her feel nothing less of otherworldly. He almost - almost - whines when she pulls away, chuckling as she does.

Under her, he’s nothing short of breathtaking, with topazes for eyes and vermillion hair, and dark skin marked by black, steeped in gold. Triangular patterns of red hiss around his throat, the newly formed pact pulsing with magic and she trails her fingers across them, enamoured.

“You’re beautiful,” she finds herself professing and he lets out a quiet laugh, Adam’s apple bobbing under her touch, the sound reverberating.

“I’m all yours,” he surrenders and she’s touched, honoured by the sincerity of his proclamation. “I will be until you say I no longer am.”

“And I, yours,” she promises before she laces her fingers with his and kisses him once more.

#swd obey me #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #diavolo x reader #munewrites #f: obey me #ch: diavolo #an: this took so much longer than expected #an: can you tell I have no idea where to take this #an: look i have a LOT OF FEELS for tiddy man diavolo #an: I feel like he'd be the only one out of all the demons to tell mc that hello yes i wanna be yours #an: idk it just seems fitting esp because he really can't spend much time with them #an: ALSO YES for Diavolo the pact is a show of complete loyalty and trust #an: also using holy or divine words to describe the demons is now my favourite thing to do because why nOT #an: Honestly though im p sure diavolo isn't this sweet #an: man probs has ulterior motives #an: gives me those vibes #an: thIS IS TERRIBLE ON THE PHONE #an: tumblr let me have line breaks

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bktaro · 3 years

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rumour (part 1)

erwin smith x f!reader

warning: season 2 spoilers, eventual smut, drinking, one night stand, 18+

click here to read on ao3

summary: there’s a rumour about Erwin Smith amongst the aristocrats of Wall Sina, and you were determined to finally figure out the truth behind it.

“There he is.”

Your eyes followed the direction your friend nudged toward, leading towards the entrance of the ballroom. The grand double doors spread open, welcoming a group of people to into the hall, all dressed impeccably head to toe in their best outfits with matching emerald brooches either wrapped around the collars of their dress shirts, or dangling by a chain around each of their necks.

His tall figure stands in the front of the group, serving as the obvious leader, shoulders broad and chiseled chest puffed out. He doesn't disappoint from your imagination of him at all— he’s just as handsome, if not more, as the rumours claimed him to be.

Erwin Smith, Commander of the Survey Corps had finally made his long-anticipated entrance to the party.

“So, it’s true.” You whispered to your friend; eyes unable to peel away from Erwin. “He indeed is incredibly easy on the eyes.”

His reputation amongst the aristocrats and bureaucrats within Wall Sina was one that sparked a controversial debate depending on who the question was to be asked. To some, he was the genius leader of the Survey Corps that ventured out to seek truth behind the unknown, a job only a select few could ever possess the intelligence to handle. However, to others, he was nothing more than the head honcho of a group of suicidal maniacs wasting taxpayer funds with little to no returnable benefits to the grander society.

You consider yourself part of the first group, especially impressed after his ability to sniff out and take out the illegitimate trash that infiltrated the Military Police and Royal Government— something that you were always disgusted with but were too outnumbered to truly do anything about even as a part of one of the noble families. In your view, he was a daring, brave and admirable soldier, sincerely passionate about what he does.

But as much as you admired his courageous acts, there was a lingering rumour about him you just couldn’t ignore.

“There’s absolutely no chance those raunchy rumours could possibly be true about a man like that.” Your friend’s jaw is nearly on the ground, her eyes glued to every move the tall, blond man made.

A waiter balancing a tray of champagne glasses pauses and offers the drinks to Erwin and his group. Erwin gives a small, charismatic nod in thanks, grasping one of the champagne glasses and tipping the bubbling beige liquid into his mouth. His eyes survey the ballroom, observing the attendees across the room, and he eventually catches you staring at him.

You expect him to look away, ignore it and move on. You haven’t even fully introduced yourself to him yet, and you imagine even if by some chance your father who worked closely with him before had dropped your name or showed a portrait of you in conversation before, he would have never remembered it.

But Erwin surprises you, locking his eyes with yours and giving you a tiny smirk against his champagne glass. It’s more than enough to fuel your confidence, reciprocating him and giving him just a tiny grin back.

“You know what?” You mumble, and your friend looks at you, eyes widening at the realization of the interaction between you and Erwin. “I’m going to see if the rumour is true myself.”

—

The night continues to carry on in the traditionally extravagant ‘Wall Sina’ manner. The bureaucrats and noblemen continue to drink their wines and other alcohols, noblewomen gossiping amongst each other, food continuously being brought out and served, and live classical music playing in the background, allowing the open space of the dance floor to be available for couples to sway along with.

You had split with your friend, sitting with the rest of your family at your designated table and took sips of your own champagne while quietly analyzing the scene in front of you. Your mother is off gossiping with the other noblewomen, and your father being the head of one of few legitimately operating branches of the upper Military Police was busy, most likely drunk in discussion about how ‘finally-those-good-for-nothing-lazy-leaders-all-got-removed-and-got-what-they-deserved” and “now-the-Military-Police-could-finally-regain-its-former-glory’. It’s probably an interesting conversation, but at the moment you were waiting for just one particular thing you know is bound to happen at any second.

And as if he could read your mind, he comes just right on time.

“Look who it is!” Your fathers face is red from the alcohol, a toothy smile spread across his face at the arrival of a new guest at your table. “The man who brought glory back to the military himself— Erwin Smith.”

“Please sir, I wouldn’t have been able to do it all without the support of you and your honorable team.” Erwin’s voice breaks out into a deep laugh, drunk members of your father’s team hollering and even slapping Erwin's back in appreciation. “I hope the evening is treating you well.”

“Good food, good drinks and good company, nothing more I could ask for a good time.” Your father stops, glancing his eyes towards you before continuing his sentence. “By the way, this is my daughter, the one I’ve told you about previously.”

Bingo— the moment you’ve been waiting for was exactly this.

Your eyes look up right into his, the most professional and pleasant smile spreading over your face. Offering a hand outward, you introduce yourself, and Erwin bends forward, taking it gently into his and holding on to your fingers, bringing them up to leave a tender kiss against your knuckles.

“Pleasure is mine to finally meet the daughter the chief has talked so much about.”

“No, no. I take all the pleasure meeting you, Commander. You’ve done such marvellous things for the people of the walls.”

Erwin lets go of your hand, his eyes lingering on yours for a little longer than he knows he should, before he pulls back, facing your father once again.

“Erwin,” Your father begins, taking another sip of alcohol from his cup. “May I request something personal from you?”

Erwin raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but a personal request sure isn’t one of them.

“Of course, sir.”

“My daughter, she’s a smart one. Got into the Military Police on her own too, being top ten in her training year. I plan to pass down my position to her eventually, but only if she proves capable.”

You suppress a laugh from coming out at his words, trying your best to hold a straight face. You knew you were more than skillful enough to handle the position and found it rather cute your father thought otherwise. Not that you particularly felt offended at his words— you were smarter than to let the old man's dated standards of what ‘capable’ meant define your worth. But he was helping you get closer to the Commander Erwin Smith, what more could you do than just sit back and let him set it all up for you?

“I want a great leader like you to teach her more ways in becoming successful that aren’t the out-of-date methods us old folks use. You two are also close in age, I assume it would be much easier to understand one another's viewpoint.”

Erwin's response is nothing short of what you expect him to answer, the corners of his lips turning upwards into a small, confident grin.

“It would be an honor and a privilege to share my knowledge onto such a gifted young woman.” He bends his body slightly down towards you once more, offering the palm of his hand upwards towards you. “Would you be interested in having a discussion about it tonight?”

You eye your father, silently seeking his approval. When he nods his head in a way that is much more enthusiastic than you imagined, you eagerly place your hand onto his, letting him wrap his fingers around your hand.

“Gladly, Commander.”

His hands are large and calloused compared to yours, the years of training and firsthand combat clearly visible in the rough texture of his palms. Effortlessly, he leads you across the dance floor of the ballroom, heading towards the outside veranda that overlooks the city of Stohess, and where the noises from inside the party become muffled behind you.

“You smart, aren’t you?”

Erwin’s hand releases yours, admiring the view of the quiet city of Stohess under the night sky, the side of his body leaning against the railing. His broad statue is overwhelmingly large compared to yours, now emphasized by him standing mere inches away from you.

“Whatever could you mean by that?” You arch an eyebrow, questioning him back.

You’re not an idiot, and neither is Erwin. You’re more than aware he knows exactly what you’ve been scheming.

“I can see right past the facade you put up with your father back there. You’re not interested in the slightest talking strategies to become a better military leader tonight, are you?”

Erwin’s eyes shift to look at you, a knowing glimmer in his eyes in which you can’t help but release a tiny smirk in response.

“You caught me.” You take a step forward, bringing a hand up to rest your palm on the top of his chest. Your fingers traced the muscles of his well-defined chest through his dress shirt, eyelashes batting while looking up straight into his eyes. “Truthfully, I might have asked father to say I wanted advice just as an excuse to talk with someone as impressive as you in private.”

A smug grin forms onto his face. Erwin knew exactly who you were the moment he saw you, the famous beautiful yet intelligent daughter of one of the top Military Police chiefs. He never failed to get any woman he sought after, and he planned on making you no exception to that rule.

He’s enjoying this all just as much, if not more, as you are, internally gloating at it all unraveling quicker than he anticipated— partially due to your cooperation of course.

“You’re just as I envisioned. Quite the vixen.”

“Having daydreams about me already, Commander?”

“Can’t help it, the rumours amongst the soldiers said you were the most stunning woman in the entire Military Police.” Erwin’s gaze flickers from the bottom of your lips and works upwards, meeting your eyes once more. “And I can now confirm the rumours are indeed true.”

You want to roll your eyes, no, you should’ve rolled your eyes. But when such words come out of his mouth, they no longer felt cliched. That was the renowned power of Erwin Smith, he had just the right charm and skill to hypnotize just about anyone with his words.

And rumour had it he was a repeat offender in using this ability skillfully to the advantage of the Survey Corps.

“There also is a rumour floating around about you too, Commander.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You do exactly what you’re doing to me right now, charming and enticing me until I open my wallet to you to aid in the cost of the Survey Corps next expedition. Then to show your gratitude while taking the advantage of the opportunity to release your pent-up desires, you’ll offer me the night of my life, and when morning arises, you’ll be gone without a single word.”

Erwin does nothing at your accusation, staring at you blankly momentarily until breaking out into a low chuckle.

“That’s quite the ridiculous rumour, I must say.”

You embarrassed yourself. You let yourself get too cocky. Rumours were rumours for a reason. Your friend was right, there was no possible way such a dignified man like Erwin Smith would do something like that. Or at least, that’s what you think briefly.

Erwin’s hands find their way to the small of your back, pushing your body closer to his. His face looms over yours, illuminated by the moonlight shining above the night sky, and the smug grin on his face widening before asking you one last question.

“Would you like to make that rumour into reality?”

#erwin x y/n #erwin smut #attack on titan erwin #erwin smith #erwin x reader #aot fic

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akakeiiji · 4 years

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-`,✎ Meteor Showers and Milk Bread — Oikawa Tooru

→ synopsis: when tooru sneaks out of the palace in secret, wanting to explore and experience the city for himself, he doesn’t expect to spend the entirety of his evening with an odd, brash, and frankly rude mage but he wasn’t complaining

→ pairing: prince!oikawa tooru x fem!reader

→ genre: royalty au, fluff, angst if you squint enough

→ warnings: none (i think)

→ word count: 6.2k

→ taglist: open (just message/send me an ask!)

[ part two coming soon ]

If you’re wondering what “Planus” is, please go to google translate: Latin to English. I just thought that it was very befitting for our precious little birthday boy.

I wasn’t planning to make this a two-parter but I wasn’t able to finish this in time before Tooru’s birthday so here we are. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to finish the second part but I’ll try my best to get it out soon.

Anyway, happy birthday Tooru, I love you so much even if I do bully you a lot ♥︎

Even after all these years, it still never ceases to both amaze and perplex Tooru how unfailingly consistent the royal guards are. When he was younger, he mistook them as a hindrance to his schemes but now he was older, smarter, and eternally grateful to their unnatural punctuality and constancy, that of which turned out to make his life a whole lot easier.

He keeps his eye on the small, practically invisible peephole, peering into the dark—yet still grand—corridors from behind the large oaken doors of his bedroom. His left hand—uncharacteristically bare, devoid of any of his usual rings and other flashy accessories—was held firmly on the golden door handles, his other clenching a small, equally gold, pocket watch.

He stands in silence, the slow, monotonous ticking of his watch being the only sound filling the bedroom.

And then, just like the intricate clockwork of his watch, a pair of armor-clad guards appear from the around the corner of the hallway just as the clock struck twelve. Tooru grins at the sight, “Just on time.” He chuckles as he carelessly stuffs the watch into his cloak.

He waits not-so-patiently as he watches the guards march rigidly through the corridor. Could they be any slower? Tooru thinks to himself, his foot tapping rapidly.

Finally, after what seemed like a millennium, the guards pass by Tooru’s quarters—their eyes trained on the grand entrance to the room—unaware that he was watching them carefully.

Tooru definitely didn’t regret secretly installing the peephole. He worried about it being cursed, the witch who sold it to him seemed odd, but in the end, the trade proved to be worth it. Whether it was cursed or not was still up for discussion though.

Tooru waits for a few more seconds after the guards marched out of sight around the other end of the corridor, ensuring that they were out of earshot before beginning to twist the door handle open in a painstakingly slow pace, wincing slightly at the loud click it emitted. He opened it just enough so that he could barely squeeze through and took one last look into his bedroom.

He hoped the pile of pillows he arranged underneath his covers was enough to trick any unwanted visitors throughout the night. Though Tooru knows only one person would have the gall to suddenly barge into his quarters at such an hour and he doubts this would be enough to deceive his ever so perceptive personal attendant.

Speaking of Iwaizumi—or rather, Iwa-chan—his clothes are frankly much too large on Tooru. It must have been the result of his relentless training with the other swordsmen and guards in the palace.

He didn’t want to have to borrow (read: steal) Iwa’s clothes like this, but nothing in Tooru’s large, ever-expanding wardrobe would be inconspicuous enough to suit his needs for that night. He needed to keep a low-profile, to remain hidden and unnoticable. The complete opposite of his usual self.

After all, the Prince of Seijoh can’t be out and about meandering around the city all on his lonesome. It simply isn’t safe, it isn’t ethical, it just isn’t allowed for His Royal Highness.

Tooru can’t help but roll his eyes at the thought. He could clearly imagine all the royal advisors, attendants, and anyone of high position really, telling him all this if he gets caught during one of his many escapades to the city. He could already feel the long, drawling lecture from his parents and the cold stare of his sister who would be upset not over the fact that Tooru snuck out of the palace but because he didn’t take her with him.

No, it was one thing for the prince to sneak out but for the crown princess to so much as step foot outside the palace grounds without her cavalry of guards and mages? It was simply unimaginable.

Tooru reaches the end of the hallway. Careful to only step on the soft velvet carpet lining the marble floors as to not make any sounds, he edges towards the wall and peers around the corner. As usual, guards were stationed at every alcove of the corridor, ready to attack any and all intruders, trained to jump and pounce at any sound they hear. Which was fair, they were protecting the royal family after all. Which of whom would be fast asleep by now if they were the obedient little royal they ought to be, if they weren’t Oikawa Tooru.

It was a good thing Tooru memorized the palace as if it were the back of his hand. There was no need to bother with the guards lining the main entrance of the royal chambers when he could just use the servants' passageways.

He palms the wall blindly until he finds the one brick he had to press to reveal a small entryway on the once bare wall. He slips in before the entryway conceals itself once more.

It was admittedly an oversight made by the countless architects and engineers that designed the palace. Or maybe they just didn’t think that a royal such as Tooru would know that such passageways existed. Regardless, he didn’t care, what mattered was that he could now maneuver freely around the castle without worrying about the myriad of guards stationed all over the main hallways.

Palace surveillance was light in the servants’ quarters and areas. As Tooru nears the foot of the stairs from the maze of passageways in the castle, he could already hear the rowdy laughs and rambunctious voices of the numerous other inhabitants of the castle. It was at this hour where chambermaids, cooks, out of duty guards, and the like would be able to rest and relax, free from their usual day to day responsibilities in the castle. Tooru loved it here.

He wished he could stay but he pulls the hood of his cloak over his head and steps out from the stairwell, trying to seem as casual as he could.

Of course, nobody pays him any mind. There are hundreds of people coming and going in this area of the castle every day, Tooru was only one of very, very many. He snatches an apple from a farmer’s basket as he skips out through the back gates of the castle, one exclusively for the castles many servants and workers, a triumphant smile on his face.

When one thinks of Prince Tooru, they think grandeur, they think regalia, and such. The people of Seijoh know about his brains, his charms, and his wicked good looks, but not many have actually had the pleasure of seeing the prince with their own eyes. At least, not without knowing it was him.

No one would have expected that the boy wandering around the streets—the one with a look of pure, childlike wonder in his eyes—clad in an oversized tunic, loose pants, and a ratty cloak would be the infamous prince. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Despite the late hour, the city was still bright and bustling, shops were still open, lanterns were still lit and the streets were still lined with people, for it was the night the Planus meteor showers would grace the skies.

Tooru had been waiting for this day for years, the minute he read about them from his absurd collection of astronomy books, he knew he just had to see them for himself, only to find out that they occurred once every fifteen years. He was barely three years old the last time they appeared. Just his luck.

He had absolutely no clue why the castle wasn’t hosting a grand ball or banquet of sorts right now. There should be a celebration of some kind for such an event but no, they’d rather celebrate the birthday of some old, long deceased great-great-uncle of theirs—which was hands down, one of the dullest balls Tooru had ever attended in his life—than celebrate this.

At least the people of the city had their priorities in order; there was a three-day festival all for the meteor showers. Tooru made a mental note to tell his sister to create that day a kingdom-wide holiday when she becomes queen.

A part of Tooru is glad that there wasn’t any form of an event held that night though. It would have been virtually impossible to slip away unnoticed if that were the case and he’d never be able to witness the city in such a state.

Large golden lanterns were strung across the roads, tied to the street lights, basking the city in a warm, orange glow. Food stalls were set up in every corner selling snacks ranging from traditional sweets of the kingdom to eccentric fruits and drinks from far away countries. Jesters and wizards were performing acts and magic tricks in front of starstruck children. Crowds were gathered in the city square, where loud music was playing and people were dancing around the statue of Tooru’s great-great-grandparents, the crowd clapping along with the beat of the music—which Tooru noticed was coming from a group of instruments playing themselves, obviously the work of a skilled mage.

Tooru was clapping along with the crowd, watching the dancing couples flit gracefully around the square when a familiar scent meets his nose. His eyes tear away from the scene in front of him and finds himself staring at a small bakery, more specifically at the familiar pastries set on display by the open windows.

He bought three milk bread buns that night. Two more than he probably needed but he didn’t care. They weren’t like the ones served at the palace; the buns were smaller, denser, and not uniform in size or shape. The ones usually served at breakfast were always unnaturally consistent and identical to one another. Each one was the same size, the same shape. They were all meticulously scored giving the buns intricate designs yet even those were uniform as well.

The commoner buns were better.

Perhaps the choice of analogy could be better but Tooru thinks about how the two milk bread buns perfectly described the way he felt about the members of nobility and commoners.

Though plain, though unrefined and rudimentary, in the end, the simple milk bread buns from that little bakery down the street could beat the seemingly perfect ones at the royal palace, the ones prepared by the cavalry of specially trained cooks and staff.

Unlike the ones served at the palace, the ones he had in his hands right now were more filled with life and personality—if that even made any sense. He could tell that they were made with love, with care from the elderly couple that ran the bakery. It didn’t matter that it was flawed, not as intricately designed or made with expensive ingredients, these were loads better than any other bread the palace could have served him.

This was probably why Tooru loved being out in the city so much, devoid of his usual riches and regalia. This was also the reason why his best friend was his personal attendant instead of some other prince or noble. They were far more real than any other royal he’s met before.

Tooru is suddenly pulled away from his thoughts at the sound of yelling from afar. He follows the crowd of people who too were drawn towards the person, trying to get close enough to understand what he was trying to announce to everyone.

“—Make way! It’s starting! Everyone make way!—”

Tooru only manages to catch these words because suddenly, like a deafening canon, everyone around him starts cheering and whooping excitedly. He barely has time to react when people start clearing the middle of the roads, pushing themselves onto the sides of the brick sidewalks in a matter of a few seconds, squishing Tooru between a wall and the backs of the still cheering crowd.

Everyone was facing the cleared out road in front of them, their eyes trained at the end of the street evidently waiting for something to appear.

Tooru struggles out from in between the wall of people and the actual wall he was stuck in and walks along the streets, behind the lines of people.

“Erm—excuse me?” Tooru starts, tapping the shoulder of the nicest looking person he could spot. “What’s happening?”

The man shoots him an incredulous look, one that asked are you serious? “What’s happening? How could you not know what’s happening?”

Once it was evident that Tooru really was serious, the man chuckles and pats him on the shoulder. “Not from around here, huh?”

Tooru laughs sheepishly, subconsciously tugging his hood down even more. “You could say that.”

The man goes to explain but his and Tooru’s attention were torn away when loud music began playing from the end of the street. Tooru was glad he was tall because he was able to see even from behind the crowds of people.

It was a parade. Of course, it was, how had Tooru not realized? He internally smacked himself for his momentary stupidity.

He stands on his tiptoes, trying to get a better view of the gargantuan floats coming nearer and nearer. The first one was the size of two carriages stacked on top of one another and it was designed to look like meteors were on top of them. It obviously had some sort of magic imbued in them since they were glowing brightly, basking the street with blues and purples.

Tooru has never seen anything like this before. His brown eyes are wide with amazement as he follows the floats with them, his mouth agape. He could imagine his teachers scolding him for doing so, saying it was unsightly to hang his mouth open like that.

Commoners never fail to amaze him.

The other floats were similar to the first one, though they featured different things such as jesters, mages, centaurs, and pegasi. His personal favorite was the one of a giant griffin, its wings were charmed to flap and spread out as it rolled by, blowing wind into the faces of the crowd. Tooru’s hood was blown back but he didn’t notice nor care. He could barely hear the music from the band of players marching by the floats over the screaming and oohing of the crowd but Tooru was able to catch a few words from a pair of girls in front of him.

“—Mina look! It’s the royal float!” She points her finger out to a white float from afar. Her friend giggles, trying to get a better view. “I know! The man playing Prince Tooru is so handsome.”

The what playing the what now?

Tooru follows the girl’s finger and finds himself staring at a float of the royal palace. It showed the facade of the castle, it even had the same flags perched on the rooftops, but what caught Tooru’s attention however were the four figures standing on the turrets of the float, waving at the crowd.

There were people playing as the royal family. They were dressed in luxurious robes: fur-lined cloaks, epaulettes, and gowns—though Tooru suspected that they weren’t actually made of the same material as the real ones back at home.

He saw a couple playing as his mother and father, waving politely to the crowd. They didn’t look exactly like his parents of course but they were able to find actors that looked sort of like them, which makes sense, the king and queen have made frequent public appearances in the city.

However, what really caught Tooru’s eye were the ones playing him and his sister, who unlike their parents, have never been seen by the public.

His sister was played by a woman in her twenties, dressed in a lavish pink gown his actual sister would never have even looked at, waving enthusiastically at the crowd, sending flying kisses and throwing petals towards them.

He would have laughed if he had not seen the man playing himself.

He was probably around fifteen, years younger than he was. He was smiling devilishly at everyone, winking and shooting looks at all the girls in the crowd. He had an air of pompousness around him, especially with the way he ran his hands through his curly blonde hair.

Yes, blonde. They hadn’t even gotten his hair right.

Asides from that he was waving a sword around at the sky, yelling about how he’s vanquished dozens of dragons—which Tooru has never and, frankly, will never do.

Tooru scrunches his face in disgust as he listened to this child make a fool of himself—which in turn made a fool of Tooru. He could admit, it was childish to feel so offended by this but he couldn’t help it.

He starts walking in the direction the floats were headed at, his eyes still trained at the “royal” float, wanting to hear more despite knowing how it would just irk him even more.

Tooru was even more horrified when the boy pulled out a rose and started announcing his love to a princess from Niiyama. Tooru would rather eat a toad than marry the frankly terrifying princesses of Niiyama who intimidate him to no end.

“HEY WATCH IT!”

Tooru really should have been paying attention to where he was going because before he knows it, he’s laying on the sidewalk. His hands were flat on the ground, bleeding slightly after the impact of the fall.

“Ow—ow—ow.” Tooru hisses as he stares at them. He didn’t know how he was going to explain this to Iwa tomorrow. He suddenly sees a sight much worse than his scraped hands.

“My milk bread!” Tooru cries out, staring at the two remaining buns which were tucked safely in his bag, now trampled and squashed on the street. Tooru could feel a piece of his heart breaking off at the sight.

His attention is torn away though by you, the person he ever so gracefully crashed into.

You, however, paid no mind to Tooru or the tragic loss of his milk bread. You were too busy examining a large telescope you seemed to be carrying earlier, not even caring that you were laying in the middle of the dirty street as you searched for any sign of damage on the instrument in your hands.

“Oh thank god.” You sigh in relief, realizing that it was fine and only sustained a few scratches.

“Are you alright?” Tooru asks, holding his hand out to place it on your shoulder.

You whip your head towards Tooru, the relieved expression on your face turning to one of annoyance as you glared at him. Tooru freezes.

“Yeah and no thanks to you.” You huff as you clutch the telescope protectively to your chest, veering away from his hand. Your eyes then fall on your papers and books which were now littered all over the brick sidewalk and you gasp. “My notes! Great, thanks a lot pretty boy.”

Pretty boy? Tooru retracts his hand, his bottom lip jutting out slightly, and instead goes to help you pick up the rest of your papers. He couldn’t help but stop and stare at one of the papers he grabbed. It was a star chart, not unlike the ones he sees in his astronomy books, but this one was covered in scribbles and writings. Tooru realizes that these are runes, the same one he sees the mages employed at the palace read and write.

“Hey, here are your—” Tooru says as he heaves himself up only to find you gone, the space where you were just laying on empty. He twirls around to find you running around a corner, your cloak billowing behind you.

“—notes.” He trails off, staring at the thick leatherback book and pieces of parchment in his hands. As much as Tooru wanted to just leave them on the side of the road and go buy more milk bread to replace the ones he just lost, he knew he had to return the important looking papers back to you.

Curse him and his morals.

He runs after you, turning the same corner you did to find himself staring at a small street that had stone stairs leading up along it. You only had a few seconds headstart but somehow you already made your way to the top of the stairs, turning another corner towards another street, paying no notice to Tooru’s calls.

“Good god.” Tooru sighs as he runs up the stone steps after you, beginning to question his life choices.

He continues to follow you through the winding, labyrinth-like streets of the city. The farther you two went from the city square, the fewer people there were, and the darker it became. Tooru was beginning to think he’d lose you when he suddenly turns the corner and finds himself staring at a massive, open field.

You two were at the edge of the city, on top of a large hill. Trees surrounded the field which was covered in flowers filling the area with a sweet scent.

You rush over to a patch of grass that didn’t have flowers growing all over, gingerly placing the telescope beside you and then throwing everything else to the ground with no disregard. Tooru watches from behind you, bent down, and clutching his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

You two essentially ran up dozens of flights of stairs and roads that were all uphill but you didn’t seem affected at all whilst Tooru was basically dying from exertion.

Again, curse him and his morals.

“Where is it?” You cry out as you sort through the pile of papers and books on the ground. You take out your bag and begin sifting through it, praying that you’d find that specific volume of astronomy 101 you needed for your study, but alas, it had vanished.

Your mind flashes back to the time you fell in the streets, dropping all your things and you slap your forehead in frustration. “Pretty boy!” You wailed in realization.

Perhaps you still had time, maybe you could run back and find it back at the square. Hopefully, no one had taken it and it was still there.

“Looking for something?” You whip your head back to find none other than Pretty Boy and, more importantly, your textbook in his hands.

“Did you follow me?” You gasp, getting up from your spot and walking over to Tooru, who was still heaving. You grab the book and papers from his hand and flip it open; It really was your missing textbook. You sighed in relief, placing the book against your chest.

“I’m pretty sure a thank you is in order.” Tooru quips, shooting you a look as he straightens himself. He was much taller than he seemed at first glance.

“Well, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you were actually paying attention to your surroundings.” You state as you lightly poke his chest and you turn to march back to your little spot in the field. Just like earlier, Tooru’s bottom lip juts out, one eyebrow raised.

“But thank you—I guess.” You say stiffly, looking over your shoulder a bit. Tooru’s expression immediately lights up at these words.

Much to your surprise—and annoyance—he follows after you, matching your pace so he was walking by your side, his hands clasped behind his back.

“You’re a mage, aren’t you?” He declares this more than asks really, a knowing smile resting on his lips. “No—a mage’s apprentice.” He adds quickly, correcting himself.

You glare at him, ignoring his question, as you flop back on your spot beside your books and papers. “And why are you still here, exactly?”

Tooru looks back at the city behind you two sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Multiple reasons.”

“Do tell.” You voice, setting up your telescope in front of you. “I’m ever so interested.”

Tooru ignores your blatant sarcasm and takes a seat beside you, also ignoring your groans at this action. “First things first, I have no idea how to get back to the square, I’d probably just get lost and spend the rest of the evening wandering around aimlessly.”

“Secondly,” Tooru stretches his arm up over his head and leans back onto the soft grass, his forearms cushioning his head. “I’m exhausted.”

“We didn’t even go that far.” You comment, raising an eyebrow at the male who was staring up at the sky. He gasps dramatically and turns his head towards you. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve never ran so much in my entire life, I feel like I just scaled a mountain.” He lifts a hand, his pointer finger thumb just barely touching. “My legs are this close from snapping off.”

You snort, turning your attention back to your telescope. Tooru beams, pride swelling at his chest at the fact that he made you laugh—well, sort of laugh. He turns his entire body towards you so that he’s laying on his side, his right arm extended over his head, his cheek resting on his palm.

“You never answered my question.” He starts, staring at your pile of papers and books. “You are a mage, right?”

“Well you aren’t wrong but you also aren’t right.” You respond, purposefully cryptic. Tooru rolls his eyes, deciding to just drop the subject. “Fine, don’t tell me, whatever.”

His attention is turned towards your telescope when you let out a satisfied hum as you finally finished setting it up, his eyes brightening at the instrument. He’s never used a telescope, the royal mages at the palace had them but they never allowed Tooru to use them before.

“Can I try?” You smack his hand away from the instrument, Tooru huffs rubbing the spot where you hit him. “Absolutely not, you’ll just break it.”

Tooru’s pout returns as he groans. “No, I won’t, come on I’ll be careful, just this once, please.”

“After what happened just earlier, you don’t exactly have the best track record for being careful.” You chide, pointing at the base of the telescope. “Look, it’s scratched now.”

Tooru puffs his cheeks as he stares back at you and back at the telescope again, mulling over what to say.

“Well, you aren’t the only one that was affected by the fall earlier.” Tooru begins, sighing dolefully. “I lost my precious milk bread.”

You let out the same snort from earlier. “Yeah, because milk bread is just of equal worth as a telescope.”

An indignant gasp escapes from Tooru’s lips, “Don’t belittle my milk bread.” A hand rests on his chest as he speaks. “I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.”

A silence falls between you two before you both start chuckling at the absurdity of his words. This was rare for Tooru, letting out an actually genuine laugh with a person that wasn’t Iwa or his sister.

He surprisingly feels way more at ease than he thought he would. He’s always been guarded towards strangers, always polite to them as to not offend and inflict the wrath of his advisors and personal attendant but never nice enough to blossom new friendships. He was perfectly satisfied with the people he had in his life now, he didn’t need any more than necessary.

But somehow, he found himself drawn to you and your brash attitude and sarcasm. He knew you didn’t have the slightest clue that he was the prince of the kingdom but it was still odd to be treated in such a way. The vast majority of the people at the castle would freeze and stiffen when he was near, their eyes always trained at the ground as if eye contact with him was forbidden, which it certainly was not. They’d avoid having to speak to him if they could, and if they couldn't they’d always regard him as “Your royal highness” or “Prince Tooru”.

They’d probably faint at the mere idea of calling him Pretty Boy.

This was another reason why Tooru was so close to Iwaizumi. He wasn’t afraid of him. Yes, he was the prince but he was first and foremost a person, and Iwa knew this and never walked around eggshells with him. He wished more people were like him. More like you.

Tooru watches as you peer into your telescope, scribbling rapidly on a spare piece of parchment, taking note of something Tooru couldn’t see. He whines loudly.

“Just let me try. I’ll be careful, I swear!” He pouts at you once more as he inches closer to you, shooting you his infamous puppy dog eyes but you were unperturbed. You flick his forehead causing him to fall back to his previous position, groaning in defeat.

“You’re just like the mages at the palace, they never let me—”

“Palace?”

Tooru freezes, you freeze too, shooting him a quizzical look, your quill now lax in your hand.

“As in the palace? That royal palace?” You ask, pointing at the aforementioned building which was visible even from where you two were. Tooru’s really done it now this time.

“No! I mean, yeah—I, erm—work there.” He stammers, avoiding eye contact, his thumbs fiddling around each other nervously but you pay no notice to this as you stare in awe at the glowing building. “Woah, that’s cool.”

“Not really, it’s not as great as it seems.”

“Are the royal family snobs?” You tilt your head to the side. “I don't know, I just assume they are. Most of them are.”

“All royals are snobs.” Tooru says wistfully.

You bite the inside of your cheek, you may not know him but you could tell that this was a sensitive subject for him. You decide to just drop the subject.

You instead throw yourself to your work, continuing on writing down the names of stars and movements of certain planets and such. Tooru continues on pestering you, asking you questions about what you were doing and commenting on certain things he saw in your textbooks—you gave up on telling him off for touching your stuff. He surprisingly knew a lot more than you expected for someone who wasn’t a mage.

“—which is why I believe that there is life outside of Earth. Perhaps in some other planet or something.” Tooru finishes off, he had been rambling about extraterrestrial lifeforms for the past ten minutes. “Don’t you think so too?”

You shoot him a look, ignoring his question. “Do you ever shut up, Pretty Boy?” You jeer halfheartedly, he chuckles. “Only when I want to.”

You roll your eyes as you close your book. Finally done with your assignment. All you had to do now was wait for the meteor shower. You lift your arms up, stretching after staying in one position for such a long time. Your eyes fall on the man beside you, who was staring longingly at your telescope as he bit his lip apprehensively.

He opens his mouth, no doubt ready to beg once more but you cut him off before he could. “Fine, but if you break it, I will curse you into oblivion.”

Tooru’s face lights up instantaneously, jumping up from his position in the grass and crawling to the telescope, he gingerly takes the instruments in his hands before he gives you a look which asked are you sure?

“I said it’s fine, go on before I change my mind.” You urge, waving a hand. Tooru lets out a wide grin, his eyes brimming with excitement before he peers into the telescope.

Every so often, he’d let out a small gasp or “Woah!” as he observed the night sky. Just like earlier, he’d ask you a few questions about unfamiliar stars of constellations. He reminded you of a child being in a toy store for the first time.

After some time, Tooru straightens and turns to you, a satisfied smile gracing his features. “That was amazing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” You lightly punch Tooru’s arm. “But don’t think I forgot about earlier. Telescopes are expensive, you know. I doubt you’d be able to afford a replacement.”

Tooru’s small smile doesn’t leave his lips even as he rubs his arm. How funny, a commoner telling him, a prince, that he couldn’t afford something. He remains silent though.

“Hey, what’s that on your hand?” You furrowed your eyebrows as you scooted closer to him, staring at his hands. Tooru turns it over so that his palm was face up and stares at the scapes on them with a look at that say oh I forgot about that.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” But you were already digging through your satchel, ignoring his protests. You pull out a small vial that was full of a thick red concoction.

“Okay, what is that?” Tooru says suspiciously, instinctively veering away from the potion. You roll your eyes, opening the vial. “It isn’t poison, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You hold out your free hand towards Tooru. “Just trust me, okay?” You ignored the fact that you were a total stranger and pushed on.

You hadn’t the slightest clue why you were even doing this, using an invaluable healing potion for some stranger’s minor scrapes but here you were anyway.

Tooru reluctantly slides his hand over yours and you pour a few drops of the potion onto his palms. You put the vial down beside you and begin spreading the substance over his wounds. His hand was oddly soft, as if it hadn’t done a single day of work in its life but you chose not to comment on this.

Tooru winces, the potion stinging at first before a cooling sensation instantaneously spreads on his hand. He sighs at the feeling.

“Okay, other hand.” You instruct, letting go of his right hand. Tooru follows obediently.

He stares, not at his hand on top of yours, but at your face. At your concentrated expression and the way you bit your lip as you worked, something you must do when you were focused since he saw you do it often as you worked earlier. He may or may not have been watching you.

Then he realizes it. He doesn’t even know your name.

“I never asked, what’s your—”

“Oh my god! Pretty Boy look! It’s starting!” You jump up from your seat rushing to your pile of notes, looking for a blank piece of parchment. You pull one out and stare up at the sky, writing down your observations as you did so.

Tooru whips his head around and watches the bright lights whoosh through the night sky as it basks everything in a myriad of colors, mixes of purples, blues, and greens. His eyes are as wide as saucers, his lips forming an “o” shape as he stared at the sky in awe.

He’s never seen anything as beautiful as this before in his entire life.

He turns to you, ready to jabber excitedly, only to find you frozen in place, quill and parchment forgotten on your lap as you marvel at the sight before you. Tooru decides to stay silent, not wanting to ruin the moment.

He can’t help but sneak glances towards you every now and then as the meteors flew by. He could admit, you were actually pretty when you weren’t getting annoyed at him. Okay, fine, you were actually beautiful. Especially with the way the flurry of lights shining over you, the meteors reflected on your eyes, making it seem like they were glowing in the dark.

“I have to admit something,” Tooru says when the last meteor flew past the two of you. “I lied earlier.”

“About what?”

“Well, I told you that I couldn’t go back to the square because I’d get lost,” Tooru explains, grinning slightly. “That was just an excuse, I really just wanted to stay because you seemed interesting.”

You flushed but you hoped it wasn’t obvious in the dark. You smacked him on the arm once more out of reflex. “That’s so creepy.”

A comfortable silence falls between you two as you stare at the sky, unaware that Tooru’s remained fixed towards you.

“Hey, I just realized that I don’t know your name—”

“SHITTYKAWA!”

You and Tooru jump like frightened cats at the booming voice. Thunderous stomps approach you two and before the both of you know it, Tooru was lifted onto his feet by the collar, being dragged away back to the streets by a man around your age who was yelling angrily the entire time.

You couldn’t catch everything he was saying though you caught a few phrases such as “—YOU’RE SUCH AN IDIOT—” and “—I’VE BEEN SCOURING THE STREETS FOR HOURS—”

Tooru struggled against Iwa’s grip but he wasn’t strong enough to rival his strength, he still tried though as he pleaded with Iwaizumi to let him go for a moment but it was all for naught.

When Iwa finally caved in to his best friend’s whining and pleading and let him go, he ran back up the street to the flower field to find the spot where you once were empty. The pile of books and papers, the telescope so carefully set up, and most importantly, you, had vanished in a matter of seconds.

Tooru furrowed his eyebrows together, staring at the empty field in dismay before Iwa ran back up to him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him away.

“We have to go.”

“But—”

“No, Oikawa, we have to go now.”

“But I never got her name.”

taglist: @sugarkou (hi dork, ily)

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miracul0us-multishipper · 4 years

Text

You (Part 2)

Now you see me, now you don’t!

Part 1 | AO3

Felix Graham De Vanily was, in his own humble opinion, special.

He was smart.

He was composed.

He knew exactly what to say and when, and he could make people see exactly what he wanted them to see.

He wasn’t his cousin, after all, almost identical looks aside. Adrien never knew when to speak up, or when it was better to stay quiet. Never knew how to hide his thoughts and keep his - utterly unrealistic, when it came to his father - hopes in check. And he might be smarter than Felix gave him credit for, but all that intelligence left him as soon as his friends were concerned.

That was what all his flaws boiled down to, really.

Adrien made the fatal, unforgiving mistake of caring too much. Always had.

(It was what Felix liked about him, deep down. Adrien was genuine, in everything he felt. Felix envied him for the ease with which he made friends.)

But.

Felix wasn’t like Adrien at all. He was too smart to care for people - his mother aside - any more than he had to. Mundane distractions. Friends, crushes - all things that would only deter him from his path in life: high above the crowd, always the center of attention, yet unreachable. Playing everyone, but gone before anybody noticed.

It was a glorious but lonely road. No, scratch that. It was a lonely but glorious road. Much better.

He didn’t need anything or anyone.

He was the sole and solemn genius of the family.

He was a magician, who didn’t need any fancy jewelry to work miracles - just the right distraction and disguise.

He was-

“Ow!”

Groaning Felix looked at the little bite marks on his finger.

“Were you even listening?! Or did you just wait for an opportunity to stab me in the back?”

The black and white bundle of fur and betrayal on his lap meowed and swiped at his hand, now out of reach.

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”, he grumbled and shoved the traitor off of his legs, but couldn’t help but smile when he smugly licked his nose - as if to say: I'd do it again. “I raised you too well. Now, where was I?”

He sighed.

“Ah, yes. I don’t care for anyone - please stop scratching that ear, honey, it’s not healed yet - because I'm just too smart for that. So it’s utterly impossible that I, Felix Graham de Vanily, am in love with Dupain-Cheng. Got it?”

His cat, the little bastard, answered by knocking his pencil box over and started to chew on a pen. Felix narrowed his eyes.

“Oh? You dare doubt my word?”

With quick fingers he stole his cat's spoils and placed it out of his reach.

“Quite bold for a creature without opposable thumbs, hm?”

Insulted, the poor, thumbless pet retreated to his laptop and laid down on the keyboard - causing the screensaver to give way to the last opened tab. Which was Marinette's Instagram page.

“Wah!”

Hurried to hide the proof of his interest - as if she might somehow appear in his room if he looked at her picture for too long - he shooed his pet away and closed the tab. Said pet meowed smugly and, upset about being chased away from two spots already, sat down on his pillow. Great.

“You did that on purpose!”, he accused his cat. “But that tab proves nothing. It was merely a passing interest in her admittedly wearable work. It has nothing to do with any confessions - faked confessions, or that she can apparently recognize me in disguise, or the very neutral fact that she is cute, by some people's - not my own! - standards.”

His cat blinked. And sneezed onto his pillow.

“Bless you. Now move, or I’ll use you instead of a bunny for that hat trick I’m working on.”

Sighing, Felix let himself fall backwards onto his bed, grabbing the fleeing cat and burying his face in the fluffy fur.

“Oh, to be a cat!”, he wailed into his involuntary comfort pillow. “With no troubles except how to best annoy his owner.”

The poor animal hissed and escaped his grasp, saving himself from the bitter fate of a comfort pillow.

“Run, you uncaring monster.”, Felix sighed, “Leave me to my worries. Which don’t include Marinette at all, by the way.”

He sat up and watched as the little traitor turned to sulk on his dresser.

“Stop looking at me like that. Even if I had a short bout of interest - possibly even infatuation! It’s already all but cured.”

He nodded to himself, ignoring that the disinterested cat had begun cleaning his leg instead of listening.

“School's closed, after all!”, he hummed, scrolling through the news on his phone. “And social contacts are to be reduced to the bare minimum. So I’m not going to see her again before this passing interest has... well, passed.”

As if in response to his words, his laptop started to ring and the monitor lit up with the picture of blue, blue eyes and a smile that could melt the stars off of the sky. Not that he paid attention to such things.

“Oh no, no, no!”, he panted as he fell out of his bed and stumbled towards the computer. “Incoming Skype call?! Oh, come on!”

The ringtone repeated itself and Felix jumped.

“What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?”

Panicking, he looked at his pet.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

The addressed party blinked. And went back to licking his nuts.

“Argh! I am surrounded by incompetence!”

Taking a deep breath, Felix straightened his vest and cravat - just because he was staying at home for the foreseeable future didn’t mean that he would dress any less professionally.

“Who needs your advice anyway. I can do this.”

He straightened his back and sat down on the chair in front of his desk.

“I am Felix Graham de Vanily, the best actor in all of France and the United Kingdom, not in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I can totally answer a Skype call.”

Before he could think again, he pressed the green button.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng!”, he greeted overly enthusiastic. “We meet again.”

“If you can call it that.”, Marinette laughed with the voice of a goddamn angel. She was wearing a white, polka-dotted pajama top, was illuminated by early-noon sunlight falling through some sort of window in the ceiling, and her hair – was – down.

If this was some sort of cosmic test, it wasn’t fair.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your virtual company?”, he said quickly, trying not to think too much about how her hair looked even softer than the fur of a certain cat. Then, for good measure, he added: “Miss me already?”

Marinette disappeared for a moment, before returning with a sizable stack of papers.

“As much as I could do without my favorite pain in the neck, we have a school assignment to do. You know, since school is closed?”

She leaned in and he held his breath.

“Did you even notice? I haven’t seen you last Friday.”

What was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I noticed alright! It kept me from embarrassing myself by avoiding you, because my brain got all mushy ever since you fake-confessed to me pretending to be my cousin?

Ha! Fat chance.

“Aw, worried for me?”, he improvised, as usual, by being sarcastic. “Let me soothe your concern for your favorite pain in the neck: I merely got tired of cosplaying Adrien. I'm a very busy man, you see?”

She rolled her eyes and somehow managed to make it look cute.

“Of course you are. Well, hopefully not too busy for a presentation on marine biology, due next week.”

He blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the one Adrien and I are supposed to do?”

Felix Had Questions. For example:

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t hack into Adriens E-mail account. I saw you present homework that you couldn’t have known about if Madame Mendeleiev hadn’t emailed you, as Adrien.”

She raised an eyebrow, in a way that could almost be described as playful.

“Plus, you seem the type to do that.”

He scoffed and crossed his arms, as if it would hide his racing heartbeat.

“First of all: No, I am not breaking into my cousins account. I may like to prank him - or rather everyone, really - but that goes a little far. Secondly, that Lila girl was only too eager to do homework with Adrien-Me, so I could keep up with every assignment once I could get her hands off of me.”

“I thought a magician never revealed his tricks?”

True. But he had wanted to see if she would get jealous. Which she didn’t. Which was expected and totally fine by him. He didn’t care anyways.

Lucky for him, Marinette wanted to tease him more than an answer.

“Well, I hope your work ethic is better when it comes to presentations. I'll send you the materials!”

A click later, his laptop alerted him of One New Email, containing no less than twenty-two pages of material. He raised his eyebrows.

“Not to crush your little illusion of me as a hard-working student, but that looks like awfully tedious work. What makes you think I would voluntarily do homework meant for Prince Charming?”

The sassy little smirk she'd shown him during their battles of wit last week returned.

“You mean, aside from the fact that, once school is open again and Adrien is back, your little trick with pretending to be him will be revealed? And that I’m your best chance not to be chased out of town by a very angry Chloé Bourgeois? Not to start with Alya, Rose and Juleka, who still haven’t forgiven you for that stunt you pulled the last time you were here.”

Sound argument, he had to give her that.

“Pah!”, he said, just for the sake of irritating her. “So what? It’s not like it was my idea to move to Paris anyway!”

That was at least partially true. His mother had insisted to come back to France, mostly because she wanted to keep an eye on Gabriel. But he hadn’t been against it either.

It wasn’t like he had friends in London anyway, and in Paris it at least didn’t get boring, with all these butterflies and superheroes. Plus, he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he had missed Adrien. That boy could use a little family - once Felix was done pretending to be him.

Marinette hummed and tapped her chin impatiently.

“Well, then see it as the prize you promised me after our little insult-match at the Trocadero.”

“Wait, wait, wait!”, he held up his hands. “I already settled that score, didn’t I? You confessed to me, remember?”

“I practiced confessing to Adrien with you, you mean.”, she reminded him with a raised eyebrow – Ouch, by the way – before leaning back in her pink chair. “And that was because you talked me into it. I never told you what I wanted, did I?”

Well, fuck. Not that the prospect of working with Marinette was that unpleasant, but in his current state of emotional confusion, it would only be detrimental. He needed an out, an excuse!

“Why would you want to work with me anyways? I would have thought you'd jump at the chance to do something with Prince Adrien of Dreamland. Why settle for the pain in the neck?”

Marinette sighed.

“Adrien is still recovering from his flu, and given the current, ah, global situation, I thought it would be better to put his health first. Besides, you're my favorite pain in the neck.”

“I'm flattered, darling”, he said, trying not to sound like it was as true as it was, “but-“

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette interrupted him with a shout, and suddenly her eyes dominated the entire screen, as if she were mere millimeters away from her own computer. “Felix! What is that?!”

“Huh?”, he made, eloquent as usual. He turned around, just in time to see his traitorous cat jump from the dresser right onto his lap. Apparently, now that Felix had someone else to talk to, the little bastard felt neglected.

“You mean him?”, he asked, turning back to the screen with the cat in his lap. An inhuman squeal came from the other side of the line and Marinette sacked back into her chair, which spun around its axis, like, three times in a single second.

“Felix Graham de Vanily!”, she said with all but glowing eyes. “Show – me – the cat!”

Since her voice made absolutely clear that it had been an order and Felix had always had a strong survival instinct, he obediently held up the little monster. Who let out a plaintive little “Mow”, but otherwise submitted to his fate.

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette repeated, “He's adorable!”

“You think?”, Felix said dumbly, at a loss for how to react to this sudden change in situation.

“I do! I do! What's his name?”

“Uh...”, Felix thought, debating whether a lie would save his reputation. “Uhm...”

“Don’t tell me you named him Felix Junior!” She turned towards the cat in false exasperation. “Did he name you Felix Junior?!”

The cat that was most certainly not named Felix Junior meowed in his feline confusion.

“No, of course not!”, Felix snapped back, sinking into the chair as if it might have mercy and swallow him.

“Then what's his name? What, for God’s sake, is this pretty little kitty called?!”

What had his life turned into?

“'dini.”, he mumbled, hiding his face behind the cat.

“What? Speak louder!”, Marinette demanded, and so he accepted his fate.

“Houdini!”, he groaned in embarrassment. “I named him Houdini, alright? I was eleven!”

For a moment, the line went quiet. Then, inevitably, Marinette burst out in laughter.

“For real? I can’t believe it!”

Sulking, Felix turned away from the screen, but immediately Marinette stopped.

“No, no, no! Bring Houdini back! I love his name, okay? Give him back!”

“You're not telling anybody of him, got it?”, he hissed, cheeks as red as Ladybug's suit. Marinette snickered.

“Of course, I promise. Houdini will be our little secret, alright? Now bring him back!”

Satisfied, Felix turned the chair back towards the laptop and placed Houdini on the desk. The curious thing didn’t hesitate to lounge onto his keyboard and examined the camera, much to Marinette’s delight.

“Oh lord, he's so cute!”

Felix sighed and leaned back.

“Believe me, he knows.”

“He looks just like you!”

At that, Felix spluttered and jumped up again.

“W-w-what?!”

Internally already setting up the equation: “Marinette thinks Houdini is cute, and Marinette thinks Houdini looks like Felix, then Marinette thinks Felix is cute?” he was about two seconds from fainting.

“He's got a little tie, see?”, Marinette giggled on, ignorant of the thought-spiral she'd sent him into. “Just like you!”

Oh. She meant the patterns of his fur, which admittedly looked a little like he was wearing a tie. Of course.

“Who's the most adorable thing in Paris? You are!”, Marinette continued with her shameless adoration of that undeserving little brat, who currently Mow-ed happily at the screen. Pah!

“Just so you know, he bites people for fun.”, Felix badmouthed his own pet, absolutely not because he was jealous. “You can’t trust him. He'll act sweet, but as soon as you're not looking he's got your fingers between his sharp little fangs!”

“Eh, I can handle it.”, Marinette shrugged and immediately went back to admiring Houdini. “You're a good kitty, aren’t you? The best, the best! Yes, you are!”

“No, he's not!”, Felix insisted through clenched teeth. “He's moody and arrogant! Nobody likes him, that's why I took him in! He thinks it’s fun to hurt people, he holds grudges forever and he's incredibly annoying when he's bored!”

Wait, was he still talking about the cat?

“You just like him because he looks all cute and innocent, but if you knew him, you'd never even want to be in the same room as him.”

Marinette had gone quiet on the other side, and Houdini narrowed his eyes at him in betrayal. Then she shrugged.

“If you don’t want him anymore, I'll take him in.”

“What?!”

She would have to pry the little shit out of his cold, dead hands!

“Did you not listen to a word I said?” he asked, trying not to let on that he didn’t actually dislike Houdini.

Marinette smiled.

“Sure. But I still think he's a good kitty.”

“But why?”

She hummed, pushing her stack of papers aside so she could put her elbows on the desk. Resting her chin on her hand, she looked up in him.

“Most cats are. You just got to give them a chance to come out of their shell.”

“But... But he's mean!”

“Maybe he's just lonely. Maybe he needs some friends, and then he'll learn to be nicer. I can wait.”

He was not blushing!

“Why would you want to? There's lots of better cats, you could just pick one of them right away.”

“Yeah, well, I want Houdini. All cats deserve a chance. Even the meaner ones.”

She smiled down at the black and white loaf that purred on his keyboard.

“In my experience, peop- cats only show their best sides if you give them a chance to open up. If you're too quick to brush them aside as hopeless, or mean, you might miss out on the most wonderful personalities underneath. And I think Houdini is one of those.”

And then, because the universe just wanted to see him fall, she winked at him. Jesus Christ!

“Anyway, I'll give you some time to read through the material I sent you. Message me once you’re done, we've got a lot of work ahead. Bye!”

Before he could realize what she had said, the window blanked and closed on him. Disappointed that his fan had vanished, Houdini meowed and returned once again to Felix' lap.

“Bye.”, Felix stammered belatedly. What had just... How could she go around just saying things like that? And then hang up?!

“Ugh, Houdini!”, he lamented. “Look what I have become!”

Reduced to a beetred, stammering, weird-cat-metaphor-using fool!

The cat gave a smug “Mrow” and headbutted him in the chin, but Felix didn’t have it in him to complain.

“Fine,” he sighed in defeat, “you win. So what if I like her?”

Houdini purred.

“You do too, don’t you? Bet you'd bite her anyway.”

He purred on, unperturbed.

“Knew it.”

He sighed once again.

“She's right, though. You are a good kitty. Deep down.”

Houdini meowed and licked his finger, just where he'd bitten him earlier.

“Well, now you're just sucking up to me! Two-faced little demon. Mwah!”

He pressed a small kiss to the top of his furry head, then rolled the chair closer to the desk and opened his emails.

“Alright, then.”, he tried to motivate himself, “let's show Marinette what a good kitty- what a good person we are and do our homework.”

At that, Houdini promptly stood up and jumped onto the bed, leaving him alone with twenty-two pages of reading material.

“Bastard.”

- - -

Bonus:

Ladybug, crashing through Felix' window: Felix Graham de Vanily!

Felix: Ladybug?!

Ladybug: I have it on good authority that you own a good kitty! It is crucial for the safety of Paris that I pet him right this instant!

Felix, remembering her right hook: ... sure?

#miramu writes #felinette fluff #felinette #felix/marinette #canon!felix #marinette dupain cheng #felix graham de vanily #its corona time

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be11atrixthestrange · 4 years

Text

Step 11: Understanding Each Other

From 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger

-------------------------------------

Understanding Each Other

At this point, you've probably known each other for a while, and have likely both witnessed her growth and experienced your own. You won't doubt that the task of understanding her is a complicated one. Although you will never truly know her, as everyone is constantly changing, it is important to try, and to let your efforts show.

-------------------------------------

Ron smiled down at the book, appreciating its throwback to the first chapter, Getting To Know Her. At first, Ron wouldn't have spotted a difference between the two steps, but now he could. He finally understood Hermione enough to know that she would always be full of mysteries to him.

In the past, unsolvable mysteries never intrigued Ron. Most subjects would start to frustrate him upon realizing he'd never truly understand them. He didn't see the point of pouring all his efforts into studying things that were constantly changing. Hermione was an exception of course. He used to consider the task of "getting to know her" to be a goal, a destination, but in reality, it was a never-ending adventure, one that proved that maybe there were some topics that could hold his interest no matter how vast.

Ever since he accepted that Hermione was someone he'd never fully understand, he began to enjoy the journey of trying, regardless of the outcome. Not only did Hermione-as-a-subject pique his interest, but her own inquisitiveness toward other unknowable things was contagious. Over the years of being with her, he had adopted a similar curiosity for the world around him. He developed an appreciation for its expansiveness, which included everything from stories and books, to science and nature, to government and politics, and of course, other people. The world really was a fascinating place, and he had Hermione to thank for that realization.

There was no one he wanted to share life's mysteries with more than Hermione. With her by his side, he felt like he could take on anything, which is why he couldn't wait to drop to one knee and ask her to continue the journey of life with him.

After receiving Jean and Hugo's blessing in Australia, it didn't take long for him to purchase a ring, and elicit Ginny and Harry's help forming an elaborate proposal plan. Over time, it had turned into something he was quite proud of. Not only did it incorporate her obsession with books, her thirst for adventure, and her love of riddles and problem-solving, it also offered her some insight into his own mind, something she'd long ago admitted she'd never understand, but she'd die trying.

He'd even arranged for Jean and Hugo to stay at the Burrow, which is where— if all went according to plan— they would enjoy a celebratory dinner as a newly engaged couple. In fact, her parents were already there. Ron had picked them up from the airport while Hermione was at work, taken them out for lunch, and dropped them off at the Burrow where Molly and Arthur took over entertaining them. Ron smiled at the memory of his dad's excited yelp upon learning that they'd be hosting muggles for a short stay. Arthur, who did not fully understand muggles, never missed an opportunity to learn as much as he could about them.

Jean and Hugo shared a similar fascination with everything magical at the Burrow. They were full of questions when they noticed household spells working in the background to keep laundry clean, wash dishes, even knit baby clothes for the grandchildren. Ron heard them both wonder aloud why Ron and Hermione never performed magic around them anymore. It seemed that their previous aversion to magic was likely just a fear of the unknown— a distrust that Hermione had accidentally instilled alongside her memory charms. By now it had faded into curiosity, and Ron realized that their commitment to keeping her magic hidden around her parents might be rooted in misunderstanding.

As Ron's curiosity grew over the years, he had started noticing it in other people. It appeared as Arthur's constant quest for information about the muggle world, Molly's incessant questions about Jean and Hugo's lives in Australia, and their equally enthusiastic inquiries about the Burrow. He had even noticed it in Harry, who after the war, found immense joy in life's small pleasures. With the stress of being The Chosen One a staple of his past, he seemed committed to enjoying the simplicity of finally being normal. Ron noticed more than curiosity. He noticed there was an openness, optimism, and enthusiasm for life that he now shared with others. Part of it was surely Hermione's thirst for knowledge rubbing off on him, but now that he was surrounded by people in love, he wondered how much his own happiness contributed.

Just maybe, the next day, everything would go according to his plan. If so, Hermione would conclude the day with a fresh stack of new books, a thoroughly exhausted mind, an engagement ring, and a fiance.

But of course, the world had a way of telling its own story. Years ago, that fact would have terrified him, but today it made him smile. If he could pick one lesson he'd learned from life thus far, it was that some of the best stories were born from the unexpected. Like snow on a warm window, he felt his anxieties about the perfect plan start to melt away, suddenly offering him a sense of reassuring clarity. Maybe being in love had made him naively optimistic, but he preferred to think that the last few years with Hermione had proved that the universe could also make perfect plans.

Whether his proposal was perfect, a complete disaster, or something in between ultimately didn't matter. He grinned at Hermione sleeping soundly beside him and just knew that whatever happened tomorrow would be brilliant. He was no longer nervous, but interested, excited, and of course, curious.

-------------------------------------

It didn't take long for Ron and Hermione to get used to living together. They fell into a comfortable rhythm in no time— maybe too comfortable of a rhythm— which occasionally meant functioning on autopilot.

They discovered that the most effective way to re-engage each other was to argue. Ron and Hermione were professionals at fighting— in fact they had hardly gone a year at Hogwarts without an epic relationship-defining row. During their first year, it was The Troll Incident which ironically began their friendship by luring Hermione into the bathroom to cry, and motivating Ron to set aside his grievances to admit he'd rather she'd not die. They credit their lack of fighting in their second year to the fact that Hermione was petrified for most of it. If she hadn't been, who knows what would have happened, and it's probably best not to think about it too much.

Their third year was marked by the Scabbers Versus Crookshanks Debacle, and they fondly referred to their fourth year as The Year That Ron Realized Hermione Was A Girl. They got through fifth year on a fragile agreement to put up a unified front for Harry, who was (to put it gently) having a really hard time, and neither could forget the casualties of their four-month estrangement in year six, or the fact that Riddle's locket had briefly severed their bond during the war.

Over time, these arguments taught Ron and Hermione a lot about each other, and even as adults-in-love, they continued to put that knowledge to use. Ron understood which buttons to press, and he always knew exactly where the line was. Like everything else that he'd learned through his years, discovering how far he could push her took trial, error and a few more relationship-defining fights.

Ron still shudders when he remembers the Great Christmas Fight Of 1999, which they now nostalgically call the "GCF". It was their first Christmas after moving in together, and at this point Ron can't even recall what started that fight. It could have been about their travel plans, or Hermione bringing work home, or the fact that Ron wanted to extend the Garden-Gnome-On-The-Christmas-Tree tradition to their own flat, but whatever it was, it opened pandora's box.

Whatever sparked the fight was just the tip of a large and treacherous iceberg. It's how Hermione and Ron learned that six months of living together without any fire wasn't natural for them. Until that day, they had been burying every minor annoyance to keep the peace between them, and thanks to the GCF, it all came spilling out in a flaming explosion of crying and yelling.

As it turned out, six months of "smooth sailing" was really six months of Ron squeezing the toothpaste bottle from the top instead of the bottom, drinking juice straight from the carton, and forgetting to take his shoes off at the front door, leaving muddy footprints everywhere, and making their flat looking like the Marauder's Map. It was six months of Hermione losing track of time and coming home from work late, constantly "re-organizing" drawers and cabinets so that Ron could never find anything, and meddling into his job as if his Auror missions were school assignments, and she was smarter than him.

He finally informed her of all those little annoying things she did— and in turn, learned that she had her own list of grievances about him. The GCF might have started with something small and unremarkable, but it ended with Ron feeling like she was watching him, taking notes of every small infraction so she could later use it in combat. Looking back, he was doing the exact same thing to her, but he didn't see it that way. Instead, the fight continued while he spent an entire defiant week at Grimmauld Place trying to prove Hermione wrong about everything.

It was a step too far. His estrangement was only supposed to last one night, but it dragged on for that whole week. Ron and Hermione are two of the most stubborn, determined, and obstinate people that ever managed to come together, and neither wanted to be the one to admit their fault.

Luckily, they learned from it. The GCF is what made the line that should not be crossed crystal-clear. It taught Ron that angrily leaving reminded her of the lowest point of their relationship, and left her with little emotional currency to spend on effective mediation. After that fight, Hermione stopped baiting Ron into dangerous waters, because it never resulted in satisfaction. All it did was rub his insecurities about not being good enough in his face, and the more he believed them, the more inevitable a disastrous break-up felt. When the stakes were lower, his fighting became dirtier. It reminded them both that effective arguing meant finding solutions to their conflicts, instead of getting distracted by their hurt pride and completely forgetting how the argument started in the first place.

Most importantly, it showed them that fighting would always be part of their dynamic, and bottling up their feelings just ignited a time bomb. They've never had a repeat of the Great Christmas Fight of 1999, but they came close a few times. They fought in a way that resembled controlled burns, engaging in regular arguments that cleared any flammable ammunition that could accidentally burn their relationship to the ground if left ignored.

They simply loved bickering too much. It kept things interesting. Ron loved Hermione for her passion, and Hermione loved Ron for his sharp wit, so there really wasn't a better way for them to remind each other of the qualities they fell for. But thanks to the GCF, Ron knew where to draw the line, and Hermione understood what topics to avoid, and they argued in a raging peace that outsiders would never understand.

Fighting became another way to show their love for one another. They would yell, scream, and shout things that made others cringe and slink awkwardly out of the room to place bets on their break-up. What those others didn't understand was that these fights were how they demonstrated their knowledge of each others' boundaries. It provided them an opportunity to honor their limits, and paved the way for them to fall even more in love with each other.

Her boundaries were different when she was sick. When his normal level of playful antagonism suddenly became too much for her to handle, he knew to reel it in. It wasn't just a result of colds and the flu, but a monthly occurrence. Her tolerance for her annoying boyfriend would drop below its normal baseline for a few days, which warned him to tone down his pestering. It also served as a reminder to stock up on pain potion and practice his warming spells so he could help make her more comfortable. He would never understand the experience of period cramps, but he could do his very best to help her get through them.

Of course, Ron didn't just use arguing or illness to show Hermione how much he knew about her. His careful observation of Hermione over the years meant that he no longer cooked with fennel, he had an ever-expanding mental list of her favorite wines, and his birthday and Christmas presents had evolved from unusual-smelling perfumes to books she hasn't read yet, tickets to stage productions, or mentally challenging activities, like personalized scavenger hunts that engaged her strong desire to solve puzzles and answer riddles.

His favorite place to apply his hard-earned understanding of Hermione was in the bedroom. The solid, trusting foundation they had built paved the way for them to gently expand each other's boundaries. In a way, sex mirrored fighting, because they understood how to challenge each other and keep it interesting, while also demonstrating respect for one another's limits. At this point, Ron knew exactly where to push her and where to pull back, and it became an artful game, an engaging dance where their explorations sometimes reinforced their previous understanding of one another, and other times offered up a surprise.

Those explorations taught Ron that it was ok to phrase his bedroom requests as commands as long as she had a sense of physical control. That could mean that she was positioned on top, or was wearing more clothes than him, or that she had her wand and he didn't. He learned that her aversion to surprises translated into the bedroom, and their physical communication was always clearer when accompanied by words. He could snake an arm underneath her and flip her around so she was pinned underneath him, pull her hair, or dig his fingernails into her skin— as long as was expecting it.

He discovered that these boundaries were somewhat fluid when, one night, he pressed into her just a little more forcefully than normal, and shifted them forward so her arm got caught between the mattress and the headboard. He stopped when he realized that she was stuck, but to his surprise, she waved off his attempt to unpin her.

"Actually, I kind of like it."

And honestly, he did too.

He was then reminded of his brother Bill's words before his wedding so many years ago— that the best part of being with someone is the fact that they constantly change and evolve, and you'll never truly know them. It really did leave room for some fun surprises.

She still surprised him often, and not just in the bedroom. Ron understood— and supported— her career ambitions, and he knew she had a strict timeline for working her way up in the Department of Magical Law. He was aware of which promotions she was being considered for, and always had a bottle of champagne ready to celebrate when she would come home and excitedly announce her new title. That's why he didn't expect her to turn down a director position in favor of a lateral move across the department, just because she needed a "change of scenery." And although he was supportive, of course, her decision to step away from Magical Law completely to take a lower-paying, less prestigious social service internship at St. Mungos completely shocked him.

"I thought you loved Law," he remembered saying.

"I do," she reiterated when she told him the news. "But I've never tried anything else."

He popped the champagne anyway, silently hoping that she would never apply the same logic to being with him.

Ron also understood that unlike him, Hermione was accustomed to a certain level of financial security— when her underpaid internship meant a few household bills went overdue, they slashed all luxuries from their budget. Ron, now operating at his childhood default simply shrugged it off, while Hermione panicked.

"What if we miss rent?" she had said, pacing the living room.

"We move into Grimmauld Place," he answered nonchalantly.

"What if we starve?"

"My mum would never let that happen. Plus, muggles sure know how to make convenience foods taste good," he said, while heating up his second bowl of ramen.

Ron knew that her timeline for starting a family differed from his. He was ok with that, and did his best to silence any remaining hope that she would change her mind. But much as he tried to squash his desire to drop hints, he couldn't help but notice the moments that suggested she was bluffing.

The topic of babies started appearing in their conversations more frequently. She would casually tell Ron that she liked certain names, or gush at a pair of baby socks they would stumble upon while out shopping. She even asked Molly to see some of Ron's baby pictures and wondered aloud if their future kids would inherit his flaming red hair. She'd ask hypothetical questions that didn't seem that hypothetical at all.

"Do you like the name Rose?" she asked him once, when they strolled past a rosebush.

"I do," he said. "Why?"

"No reason."

She reacted with genuine enthusiasm when Ginny announced her pregnancy, and Ron wondered how much her detailed questions had to do with true concern for her friend. When James was born, and Ron and Hermione were named Godparents, she fell in love with him immediately. Ron did too, but he also fell more in love with Hermione when he saw how tenderly she looked at baby James. A fire ignited in his chest when she bounced James on her hip, read him bedtime stories, and begged Ginny and Harry to let them babysit.

"I think you both need to go out, have some fun," she told Ginny at Grimmauld Place, while holding a bottle to James' tiny face. "Ron and I can watch him."

"Hermione, are you sure?" Ginny glanced between them, a knowing, yet skeptical look on her face. Ron shrugged at her and smiled. "He's a lot of work."

"We can handle it." She sounded confident.

And they did handle it. Baby James regularly spent evenings with Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron while Harry and Ginny enjoyed a parenting break. He had to laugh at Harry's words when Ron returned James one night.

"Isn't babysitting the best form of birth control?"

He laughed partly because it was funny, but mostly because he wasn't finding it to be true at all. In fact, there seemed to be a connection between James's birth and Hermione's sudden casual relationship with contraceptive charms. It was the same for him. He began hearing the words "It'll probably be fine this time," more often while they undressed each other and realized their wands were in another room. For Hermione, who was so averse to surprises and always needed a plan, occasionally shrugging off contraceptive spells could only mean one thing— that 'no babies until age 30' might be another flexible boundary.

They experienced a gradual, but clear shift in priorities. Seeing how happy Harry was as a husband and a father reinforced what he already knew— that he wanted his life to look like that too. Hermione's genuine elation when discussing their future together assured him that they were on the same page.

It didn't expedite his plan to propose to her, but it gave him all the confidence he needed to finally put his plan in motion. He picked up a few shifts at the joke shop to save more quickly for a ring. He suggested they pay a visit to Australia to see her parents over the winter holidays, and made a private plan to discuss marriage with Jean and Hugo. He even asked Harry for advice. Harry told Ginny, who simply said "about fucking time" and insisted she help him plan the perfect proposal.

Sometimes he wanted to go back in time and show his past self the elaborate plan he was creating to ask Hermione Granger to marry him. He'd inform first-year Ron that he was going to fall head-over-heels in love with the girl he had just called a nightmare. He would tell his fourth-year self not to worry so much about Viktor Krum. He'd assure that oblivious sixteen-year-old that yes, when she asked him to Slughorn's party she meant it as a date, and that he was wasting his time with Lavender Brown. He'd even encourage his seventeen-year-old self to just kiss her at Bill's wedding, or in the drawing-room at Grimmauld Place, or in that damn tent. He'd tell him to embrace her, let her know how he feels, and that he has nothing to worry about because one day he's going to propose, and she's probably going to say yes.

But he also knew that those tough moments were part of their story, and their relationship would continue to evolve over a lifetime. There was still so much about each other they didn't understand, and decades from now, their dynamic might be completely unrecognizable. Based on the past fifteen years of change, he had no idea what to expect from their future, but he could no longer wait to find out.

#hp fanfic #hpromione #hp ficlet #hp fandom #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #ronweasley #ron weasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #ron x hermione #ron and hermione

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Written In The Stars CXXV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: A bit of relief for your troubled hearts -Danny

Words: 3,265

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘The Hurt Game’ -by The Script

Chapter Twenty-Three: Truce.

It was chaos after Emily and Sirius broke the news about the baby.

The adults got closer to Emily and the young ones attacked Mel with thousands of questions. She tried to answer as best as she could knowing as little as she did. Then, after a few minutes, Sirius spoke again.

"Okay, okay!" He said loudly. "There's still one more thing we have to do! Mel, come here..."

Mel approached them, Sirius went to the pantry and came back holding a very large and thin box.

"Bet you were wondering where our Christmas present was," He smirked.

"Oh!" Mel chuckled. "I thought the whole news about the baby had distracted you from getting one, didn't think much about it..."

"Well, the baby was unexpected," Sirius admitted, his eyes hinting at something that he was very careful not to show in public. "But we would never forget about you! Especially after the news of you getting a place on the team!"

"Beater, no less!" Emily beamed. "You have it in your blood, Mel. I was so happy when I found out..."

"We also realized you didn't have a proper instrument to beat them all," Sirius smiled. "So here it is. I had to nag your mother until she let me use my vault to get it. Consider this my gift to you after fourteen years of nothing."

"You didn't," She said breathlessly.

"Open it!" The twins urged her.

Mel ripped the paper and dismantled the box with trembling, anxious hands. A brand new firebolt laid between the mess, begging to be used.

"Bloody hell!" She exclaimed, then looked up at Sirius and her mother. "Are you trying to win me over? There was no need to buy me a broomstick, you're family already!"

Sirius let out a joyful laugh. "Make sure you win in your future games or I'll regret buying you such a broom..."

"Mel's a great player," Ginny assured them, her eyes glued to the broom. "You're going to let me try it, Mel? You have to!"

"Of course I will!" Mel smiled. "Thank you so much!"

"Oh don't thank me, I wanted to give you a simple broom, but Remus and Sirius pestered me until I let them buy this one."

"My uncle?" Mel looked at the man standing in a corner of the room. "But you already gave me a present!"

"I didn't help them with money," Remus brushed it off. "I was the one who went to the bank and got it, Tonks helped me get the broom. Would've been suspicious if a man like me entered and bought the most expensive one in the market."

"It was the biggest pleasure to get that for you, Mel," Tonks admitted. "When I saw Harry's I fell in love with it, and yours is just as breathtaking!"

At the mention of the boy, Mel realized he'd been quiet the whole hour. She looked around the room and managed to get a glimpse of his figure as he left the room.

She made up the excuse of wanting to go and put the broom away herself, so the rest of them let her do it while they set the table to have dinner and Mel abandoned the kitchen, the firebolt firmly held with both her hands.

She found Harry on the second floor as he was leaving the bathroom, his face wet and the tips of his hair sticking to his forehead. He stopped as soon as he saw her. Mel looked down at her new broom and spoke timidly.

"I don't know if I'm a good player, but I promise as soon as we go back I'll practice tons..."

Harry looked down at the broom and then up at her face, a tense smile appearing on his features.

"Brilliant!" He said, using his fake joyful voice. "That's great, really... you... you're a fast learner, you'll be fine— Congrats about the baby," Harry cleared his throat, eyes darting from her broom to the walls. "You're about to find out how it feels, then..."

"What?"

"Having a family," He explained, "when we were twelve you told me you were curious about the things you were missing— Well, now you'll be able to find out..."

Mel was abruptly aware of how much she'd gotten living in Grimmauld place, and how much Harry had lost since June. She had forgotten about that conversation until now. Harry didn't mention the rest, the part where he'd said something about them being family, always together.

It felt like decades had gone by ever since that night at the burrow; but to her, it hurt just the same.

"Of course," He continued coldly. "I also remember saying that you didn't have such an awful life to start with, and that's still true. You got a place on the team, a sibling, a dad," He grimaced when he said it, but continued anyway, "lots of friends... a boyfriend—"

"Don't start this now."

"I'm not trying to start anything," He pushed, "I'm trying to make you see I wasn't wrong."

"What are you talking about?"

"It was me who was holding you back," He said with conviction. "I tried to tell you last June but you ignored me— I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, honest— I'm... I'm happy that things went well for you in the end."

What caught her off guard was the tone of sincerity on his voice, there was no double meaning to this, no hidden insults between the lines. Harry was truly trying.

"Thank you," She said. "I don't think you were holding me back, though. We were kids, and it was just the two of us for a long time... I understand why we acted the way we did. We were afraid of being alone."

"But you're not anymore. Alone, I mean."

"Neither are you."

"I s'pose not," He lowered his gaze. "Still... I think it'd be better for everyone if I were... you know..."

"Well, that proves that growing doesn't necessarily make you smarter," She replied, a small smile playing on her lips.

Harry didn't smile back, but her calm attitude seemed to edge him to continue.

"You have to know— What I said the other day..."

"You didn't mean it?" She offered tiredly.

"No... I mean, not all of it," He frowned. "When Sirius said Erick reminded him of his young brother I... I thought that Sirius was going to replace me, or something stupid like that— And I got angry at you because you convinced him to bring him here..."

This was the most Harry had talked to her in weeks, she found herself unable to move until he finished his speech.

"But I was ungrateful. You saved me, Mel. I made you feel bad about helping me because I was feeling awful about having to steal parts of you... but you have to know I was lying."

"What's the truth, then?"

"The part about you not being fully honest," He sighed. "Honestly, Mel, how did you think I was going to react? You liking Fred, befriending Erick... I would've helped you, and I wouldn't have worried about Fred because in the end you—" His voice faltered, "in the end you chose me."

She didn't know if this was the best moment to be talking about it, but she was sure that she didn't want to leave the conversation unfinished. Mel dragged him inside her room, leaving the broom on the bed and taking her time to gather her feelings.

"I guess I was afraid you would push me away," She started. "You were my only friend for so long— and then the world got wider so quickly— I was afraid of saying the wrong thing and ending up alone in a place I didn't know... I tried so hard to be the perfect friend that I ended up being... not me."

"But you were a good—"

"My point is," She interrupted him, "I had good intentions, but I did it all wrong. We both did."

"Yeah," He kicked a piece of wrapping paper that was near him. "I guess that sums it up."

Mel moved towards the door, but she didn't leave.

"I was being honest when I said I did it all for you, but I also did it for myself. I wanted to prove that I was a worthy Dumbledore."

"I think you've done a good job so far..." He admitted. "Truce?"

Mel hesitated, she was feeling lighter now, but their relationship was far from okay, she was certain that they would find a way to continue arguing about stupid things, but now the air felt less charged. Yes, Mel was sure that she wasn't crushing on him anymore, but she was also convinced that she wasn't ready to start over.

"I think it's too soon," She started carefully, "because... well... I still look at you and wish I could throw something at your face."

The corners of his mouth went up, but only slightly.

"I don't want to hate you," Mel said quietly. "And even though none of us wants to listen to Dumbledore, we should probably stick together if we want to get rid of Umbridge. So as long as you promise that you won't rat me out, or underestimate my decisions, I promise I won't be a git to you. Deal?"

"I think it's a good way to start," He nodded, staring at her with a bit of his old softness back.

Mel turned to leave the room, but before she could close the door behind her, Harry called her name one last time.

"If we don't find a way to really fix things..." He fidgeted with the edge of his shirt. "I should probably tell you that I was also lying when I broke things off. I said I didn't like you," He laughed bitterly. "But I did. I really, really liked you."

Kreacher appeared in the attic, but there was something about the way he would carry himself around the house that made her feel he was hiding something. He wasn't as grumpy as before, and sometimes Mel would catch him staring eagerly at Harry as if waiting to see him burst into flames.

As the holidays came to an end, Sirius grew a bit grumpy, he was still happy about the baby, but more often than not he would retreat to spend the afternoons alone. Her mother confided in her one morning that there had been a huge fight between the two adults when they first found out about their kid.

Having a baby wasn't ideal during these times, it was dangerous. Sirius went mad, saying he wasn't father material and they couldn't, by any means, carry the pregnancy to its end.

Emily was tired of putting her life on hold. She'd been waiting for her whole life, she was ready to move on. She wanted to have the baby. Mel had never been destined to be an only child and now she had the opportunity to fix that, and with a wonderful man. It wasn't perfect, Sirius had tried his best to convince her, but Emily had made her mind.

Mel felt silly about not thinking of all the risks. She'd been so excited about the idea of a family that everything else had just stopped existing; but she also believed that her mother had lived through enough and, at the same time, she hadn't lived at all. If this baby meant fulfilment for her, then Mel had no objections, and she would do her best to protect them.

Snape visited on the last day, saying he wanted to talk to Harry. 'Dumbledore's orders' he'd sneered. Erick stayed in the drawing-room, he didn't want Snape to see him. He claimed it had nothing to do with feeling embarrassed about his situation, but at the end of the day, he was a Slytherin living with Weasleys, a Potter, a Black traitor and a Dumbledore. Snape was known to be unfair, and Erick didn't want to lose Snape's favour.

The twins teased him endlessly, Mel could see it was annoying and a bit contradicting for them, have taken a liking to a person with such high esteem towards Snape. What they didn't understand was that Erick didn't appreciate Snape, he just wanted to keep his good reputation going. Which was a clear confirmation that Erick would go back to Hogwarts.

"What made you change your mind?" She asked him.

"Well, you know the day we went to visit Mr Weasley? I went to the bathroom and I ran into one of my father's friends. He's a healer at St. Mungo's."

"Do you think he told them?"

"They haven't said a word to anyone," Erick said. "I lied and said I was leaving a donation my Grandad had left for the hospital. He gave me his condolences and didn't even ask how I was there on my own leaving money when I'm underage— I suppose he doesn't even know I'm sixteen."

"What are you two whispering about?" Fred jumped over the couch and sat next to Mel.

"You think your parents are going to pretend you switched schools?" Mel asked once they explained everything to their friend.

"I think they would if I don't show up at school..."

"But you're going back," She smiled. "I know that look, you're already making plans..."

"Well, if my parents are the cowards I know," He started, his mind doing quiet calculations. "That means they won't try anything while I'm there, and my Grandad left me a considerable amount of money, but I can't use it until I'm seventeen—"

"Which you'll be next week," Fred replied. "Does that mean you're still rich?"

Mel hit his chest lightly. "That's none of your business!"

"I don't have half of my school stuff anyway," Erick scoffed. "I left all my books and robes back home..."

"What's up?" George walked in. "Why aren't you trying to listen to whatever Snape is telling Harry?"

"Because Snape's vague all the time," Mel rolled her eyes. "We won't find out anything."

"Erick is thinking about going back to school," Fred told his brother. "But he's whining about not having robes and equipment."

"Why do you want to go back?" George made a face of disgust. "You got away! You can do anything you want!"

"I can't," Erick raised a brow. "I need to finish my studies if I want to fulfil my goals."

"Well, we can give you our old books," Fred shrugged.

Erick's eyes analyzed the boy's face carefully. "What?"

"I'm pretty sure that the books you guys are using are the same we used except for Umbridge's..."

"But you don't have the books here, do you?"

"Of course not," George snorted. "But we can ask our mum to send them once she's back at the burrow."

"Hermione and I have plenty of spare supplies," Mel smiled. "Ink, parchment... We got you, Prince."

Erick stared at them unblinkingly, his brow furrowed.

"Why are you helping me? I understand it coming from Mel, but why are you two helping me?"

George laughed, and that only confused Erick further.

"You're one of us now, aren't you? If you want to go back to school, you'll go back on both feet."

"Not that we understand your undying love for homework," Fred shivered, "but you've helped us before, this is the least we can do, mate."

"See?" Mel beamed. "You don't have to worry about anything!"

The concept seemed to blow Erick's mind, he'd spent so many years doing everything alone that the Weasleys' support was overwhelming. He wasn't easy to break, but she definitely saw something threatening to ruin his reputation of tough, cold Slytherin peering at the corner of his eyes.

Shouts coming from the kitchen brought all of them back to the present.

"Well, look at that," George said reproachfully. "It seems that something interesting did happen."

The four of them left the room in a hurry, on queue, the front door opened and Mr Weasley and Tonks walked in, but the latter left a second after she made sure Mr Weasley was safe and sound on the main hall of the house. Mrs Weasley, unaware of the fight happening downstairs, came to welcome her husband. Ginny, Hermione and Ron all three appeared at the top of the stairs as well.

The small group shared an anxious look and Erick asked quietly.

"Should we tell them?"

"Er..." Fred pointed towards his parents with a tentative smile. "I think they're about to find out..."

They were walking towards the kitchen, closely followed by the kids. The twins, Mel and Erick accompanied them as well, eager to see what was going on.

"Feels good to be back!" Mr Weasley was saying loudly as he moved forward. "Cured! Completely cured!" He pushed the door open and revealed the scene ahead.

Turns out not only Snape and Harry were there. Sirius and Emily had stayed in the room and now Sirius was pointing his wand at Snape, Harry was standing between the two men, his arms stretched out to keep them apart while Emily was standing across the table not knowing what to do. The four of them stared back at the group of people.

"Merlin's beard," Mr Weasley said in shock, "what's going on here?"

Mel realized Erick was still beside her and she pulled the twins to stand in front of him, completely hiding his figure. Snape lowered his wand and put it away, he walked past, failing to notice the hidden person between Fred and George. He turned around one last time to look at Harry.

"Six o'clock Monday evening, Potter."

Sirius had a murderous look on his face, Emily walked up to him and snatched the wand out of his hand.

"But what's been going on?" asked Mr Weasley once more.

"Nothing, Arthur, just a friendly little chat between two old school friends..."

Emily clicked her tongue but sat back down and said nothing, leaving Sirius' wand on the table.

"So... you're cured?" Sirius smiled tensely. "That's great news, really great..."

"Yes, isn't it?" said Mrs Weasley. "Healer Smethwyck worked his magic in the end, found an antidote to whatever that snake's got in its fangs, and Arthur's learned his lesson about dabbling in Muggle medicine, haven't you, dear?"

"Yes, Molly dear," Mr Weasley replied quietly.

Harry explained to them shortly what had transpired between the two men, Snape was there to tell him about his future occlumency lessons, but in the end, Snape had found Sirius' weak spot and pocked it until Sirius got tired, it was obvious that he was fed up with how everyone was doing something but him. Harry also mentioned that Snape somehow knew about Emily's pregnancy.

"It got out of control after that," Harry made a face. "Snape said that Sirius and Emily were being irresponsible, he said they hadn't grown up if they were having a baby during these times... He told Emily she should've known better... the way he said it made it sound like she was left to watch after a wild beast, and he hinted that Sirius' baby was bound to be the same..."

"What a rat," Mel growled. "Who does he think he is?"

"A big fat git," said Erick.

The group of friends turned to look at him in surprise.

"What? He's a prat, everyone knows that!" He raised a brow. "Don't look at me as if you've never said it!"

"You know, Flint?" Ron replied. "Maybe you're not as annoying as I thought."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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softspideys · 5 years

Text

The Favorite (Peter Parker x Stark!reader)

summary: you’re convinced your dad likes peter parker more than you, until he saves your life

warnings: none

word count: 3.6k

pairings: peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: the idea for this came from an anonymous request, thanks for sending it in! I appreciate y’all being patient with me and I hope you enjoy :)

Most people thought that being Tony Stark’s daughter meant you had the love and respect of all the Avengers. And in a way, you did. You knew they cared about you and would do anything for you. But it also meant that you had to work twice as hard to prove that you could keep up with them, that you weren’t there just because you were his blood.

Tony loved to push you, to make you take on situations that you weren’t comfortable with. You never thought he’d ever put you through something you couldn’t handle, but clearly you were wrong. After all, he’d sent you on a solo mission with Peter Parker.

There wasn’t much to say about the kid, except that you hated him and could never seem to get rid of him. For some reason, Tony and Steve seemed to find great pleasure in constantly pairing the two of you together. While it was true that you and Peter worked well in a fight, that was only if you managed to stop arguing long enough to focus.

If you really sat down and thought about it, you might conclude that the real reason behind your dislike of Peter was jealousy. Based on what little information you had about Howard Stark, he had missed being the perfect dad by a long shot. Tony was nothing like him, but he wasn’t exactly your best friend either. If you were going to take over Stark Industries one day, you needed some tough love whether you liked it or not. Tony’s praise had to be earned, and you never could seem to do it.

But with Peter, he was all affection and smiles and jokes. Steve always said it was because Peter needed a stable father figure in his life right now and you didn’t, but that didn’t make it hurt any less whenever you came downstairs for dinner and saw they’d eaten without you, washing dishes side-by-side at the sink.

You suspected they put you together so often in the hopes that you’d eventually find some way to get along, but you had little faith in that ever happening. As long as your father continued to favor him over you, you’d never stop seeing him as the enemy.

Now, the two of you lay on your stomachs, surveying the computer room of some massive army base in the middle of nowhere. This mission was, as Tony put it, a “milk run,” meaning all you had to do was get in, get the intel, and then get out. No one was supposed to get hurt.

“Alright,” Peter said after about an hour of surveillance had passed. “I’m going in, watch my six.”

“Why do you get to go in first?” you demanded.

He had his mask on, but you could still practically see him rolling his eyes. “Because I can sense when danger is coming?”

“Didn’t seem to sense it yesterday when the TV remote hit you in the face,” you muttered, fondly remembering how satisfying it had been to be the one to throw it at him.

“That was because—fine, you know what? You go ahead. I don’t care. We’re wasting time.”

Smirking, you undid the latch to a small window on the roof, squeezing through the space and dropping to the ground silently, the way Natasha had trained you to do. Peter crept in after you, clinging to the ceiling like the spider-boy he was.

You moved through the darkened hallways of the base, stopping every few feet to listen for the sound of voices or footsteps. In hushed whispers, you argued about where to go.

“We’re supposed to turn left here.”

“No, that was at the last turn. Here it’s right.”

“I’m literally looking at the map right now, I think I know where we’re supposed to go.”

“Oh yeah? Well maybe you should get your eyes checked, because I can see the room from here, and it’s to the right.”

Peter said nothing for a second before the eyes on his mask narrowed in what was no doubt a scowl. “You’re the worst,” he muttered as you smugly led the way into the room. You checked the hallway, making sure no one had seen you enter, before quietly closing the door and locking it. You turned and saw Peter already booting up the main computer, lifting up his mask so he could see better.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, hurrying over and trying to nudge him out of the way. “You’re going to lock us out of the system.”

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing.”

“No you don’t, let me do it.”

“How many times have you practiced this again?”

“Way more than you, I bet.”

“You really think you’re so much better and smarter than me.”

“Probably because I am.” This argument was heading into dangerous territory, you could tell. It wasn’t like the usual light, jabbing ones you normally had. These words were laden with spikes.

“Just because your dad is Tony Stark doesn’t mean you’re anything like him,” Peter hissed.

“At least I have a dad,” you shot back.

As soon as the words left your mouth you knew you’d gone too far. Peter’s face instantly dropped, his normally warm brown eyes going cold and dark. His mouth flattened into a thin line and for a second, he just looked at you. “I didn’t mean—” you started to say, knowing it was useless.

You waited for him to yell back, to say something even crueler, but all he said was, “If you’re done, I’d like to get this over with.” He turned back to the computer and resumed typing.

“Peter,” you said weakly. “That was—”

“Save it.”

You stepped forward, laying a hand on his arm. “No, I shouldn’t have—”

“I said save it!” Peter said louder, shoving you off of him. The force of his super strength sent you stumbling back into the wall, landing in a pile of chairs and computer equipment with a loud, echoing CRASH.

The two of you froze, listening as the sound of doors opening and heavy footsteps filled the hallway. Peter stared at you, horrified. You weren’t sure if it was because he’d pushed you or because he’d just landed you both into some deep shit. “Keep going,” you said finally, gesturing him to finish what he was doing. “I’ll hold them off.”

“You can’t do it on your own, you don’t even have superpowers,” he said, shaking his head. “Switch with me.”

“There’s no time!” you said as the doorknob jiggled. “I don’t know where you are in the code. Just hurry up so we can get out of here.”

The door strained against its hinges as whoever was outside tried to get in. Peter let out a breath and nodded, pulling his mask down and turning back to the computer, typing frantically.

THUD. The door finally swung open and banged against the wall as several armed guards rushed in, yelling in some language you didn’t understand. You took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and charged them.

You managed to keep all of them focused on you for a while while Peter worked. It was easy enough at first: you caught the wrist of one guard as he threw a punch, twisting it hard and ramming your elbow into his back when he bent over in pain.

Before he could fall to the ground, you caught him by the neck and slammed his face into a nearby desk, effectively breaking his nose and knocking him out.

Another guard grabbed you from behind while his companion rushed at you. You held onto the arms of the one holding you, swinging your legs up and planting your feet on the other man’s chest, kicking him clear across the room. The momentum of the kick sent you and first guard flying backwards, and he crashed into the wall hard, his grip on you loosening.

Shaking free as he slumped to the floor, you didn’t pause to catch your breath, charging right back into the fray. You ducked and rolled between the legs of the man running at you, popping up and roundhouse kicking him as he turned to face you. He hit the ground and you smiled with grim satisfaction. That had to be a new record.

But the sound of a small click made you stop dead in your tracks. A quick glance around the room told you exactly what was going on: three of the guards were down, but four had entered the room. One of them must’ve gotten up without you noticing. Your stomach plummeted. Slowly, you turned around, expecting to be looking down the barrel of a gun.

But it wasn’t you the fourth guard had his pistol pointed at. It was Peter. Peter, who was too busy trying to gather your intel to pay attention to his spider-sense, who trusted that you would hold the guards off for him.

As the man squeezed the trigger, all you could think about was your father. What would Tony do if he lost Peter? What would Tony do if he found out you could’ve prevented it, could’ve saved him?

You did the only thing your brain was telling you: you dove forward and knocked Peter out of the way. Pain exploded in your side as the bullet entered it, and then you were hitting the floor hard. You couldn’t help the loud cry that escaped your lips.

“No!” Peter screamed. His voice was awful: raw and hysterical and full of pure rage. You closed your eyes as the guard let out an ugly laugh that was abruptly cut off by the thwip of Peter’s web. You were vaguely aware of the sounds of fighting going on around you: grunts and thuds and loud crashing, but it was like you were a thousand miles away from all of it.

The next thing you knew, the room was silent. You slowly opened your eyes and saw Peter hovering over you, his mask pulled up so you could see his face. “You’re alive,” he said quietly, exhaling with relief. “I thought—” He stopped himself before starting again. “M’gonna get you out of here, okay?”

You blinked up at him, taking in his bloody nose and the bruise under his eye. “You got hurt.”

He choked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Me? I’m fine. I’ll be fine. It’s you we gotta worry about.” He swallowed. “Why did you take that bullet? Why would you be so stupid?”

“Tony,” you answered simply. “He needs you. More than me.”

“That’s not true,” Peter said fiercely. “He loves you. You’re his daughter. Did you really think he wouldn’t care if you died?”

You tried to shrug, taking in a sharp breath at the pain. It seemed to start in your side and then spread from there, touching every part of your body. “Okay,” Peter said, taking your hand and squeezing it. “We’re gonna fight about this later, I promise. But right now I gotta get you home.”

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his mask back on. “Karen, how do I get out of here?” he asked. You didn’t know who that was, but a second later he was speaking to you again. “I’m gonna carry you, okay? Do you trust me?”

You nodded, allowing him to gingerly scoop you up in his arms. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, tucking you firmly against him. He shot a web and soon you were swinging through the air.

You knew he was trying not to jostle you too much, but every time you moved it was like someone was sticking a hot knife just under your ribs. “Peter,” you whimpered, closing your eyes. “It hurts.” Your hands and clothes were both sticky and covered with blood, and it was getting harder to stay awake.

“I know, baby,” Peter whispered. His voice sounded different, so sweet and gentle. You’d never heard him speak that way to you before. “We’re almost there. Just stay with me.”

All you wanted to do was sleep, but there was something you had to say first. “I’m sorry for what I said before. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” You sniffled, a few stray tears slipping past your closed lids. “I wish we weren’t mean to each other all the time.”

“I wish that too.”

“I just want my dad.” Your thoughts drifted to Tony again: how he would press his cool hand to your forehead whenever you had a fever and kiss your scrapes when you fell down as a kid. But what could he do to fix this?

“I’m gonna get you to him, I promise. But you have to stay, alright? You can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.” You weren’t sure, but it sounded like he might be crying too.

“I won’t,” you said, but you could already feel yourself slipping away.

* * *

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that you were in your own bed at home. The second was the various machines hooked up to you, their monotonous beeping the only noise filling the room. The third was your father, fast asleep in a chair next to you.

Your body was achy and stiff and your throat was like sandpaper, but hey, you were alive. Not bad. Slowly, the memories came rushing back: the failed mission, getting shot, Peter holding you close as he carried you out of the building.

“Dad,” you whispered. He didn’t move, so you tried again. “Dad.” Your voice was rough, but it worked: Tony’s chin jerked forward and he woke with a jolt, blinking a few times. You thought you saw something pass over his face for a second as he looked at you, but it may have been a shadow.

“Oh, you’re awake. That’s good. How do you feel?” He handed you a glass of water from your nightstand and you drank it gratefully.

“Like shit.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get shot,” he said briskly. “So let’s agree to never do that again, alright?”

You nodded mutely, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. Getting lectured by any of the adults was terrible, but your dad’s scoldings were by far the worst.

“Good,” Tony said. “Parker managed to grab the intel, so the mission wasn’t a total bust. But I want you on bed rest until you’re completely healed, understand? That was a close call. Too close.”

“Okay,” you mumbled. You expected him to leave after that, but instead he stayed, just looking at you. You weren’t sure what he was going to do or say next, so you just waited.

Finally, in a low voice, he asked, “Why’d you do it?”

“What?” There was no use trying to play dumb, but you did it anyway.

“You know Parker heals fast. He would’ve been down for a day or two at most if he took that bullet. But he said you pushed him out of the way and got hit instead.”

Of course Peter snitched and told Tony everything. You exhaled, wincing at the pain in your side. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want him to get hurt.”

Tony raised his eyebrows and you looked away quickly, fidgeting with the bedsheet. “Well, would you look at that,” he said quietly, a tiny smirk playing on his lips.

“Shut up.”

“Was that all it was?” he asked. He’d always been good at coaxing the truth out of you.

You didn’t answer for a second. “I know it’s stupid, but you guys just spend so much time together and you care about him so much . . . I guess I just thought you’d rather have him.”

The expression on your father’s face was unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he leaned forward and hugged you tightly, squeezing the breath out of you. “Dad,” you gasped. “That kinda hurts a lot.”

He loosened his grip, but didn’t release you. “Parker’s a good kid,” he muttered. “But you’re my daughter. There’s no one in this world I love more than you. Okay?”

You smiled into his shoulder, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Good. And just for the record, if you ever pull something like that again I’ll ground you until you’re 40.” He kissed the top of your head before rising from the chair. “There’s someone else who wants to see you.”

You watched him leave in confusion, wondering who he could possibly be talking about. Maybe Steve or Natasha? You’d always been close with both of them. Or maybe Bucky; you were still holding out hope that the former assassin was starting to warm up to you.

But it wasn’t any of them. It was Peter.

You felt inexplicably nervous when he walked in; after all, the last time you were together, he’d carried your injured, unconscious body out of a building. But he smiled when he saw you, and it occurred to you that he’d never smiled at you before.

“Hey,” he said, sitting cautiously in Tony’s empty chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you said. “Could be worse, though.”

“Yeah, for sure,” he agreed. “I’m, uh, glad you’re . . . you know. Okay.”

“Me too.” You hesitated. “How are you?” It was a dumb question. He looked like shit: dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, rumpled clothes. Was it really because of you?

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just been worried.”

“About me? Seriously?” you blurted out, still in disbelief.

He gave you a funny look. “Uh, yeah. Why is that so surprising?”

“It’s not. I just didn’t know you cared.”

Peter rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He looked normal again, annoyed at you like always. “Are you kidding me? You literally got shot, which was so stupid of you, by the way.”

“Oh, okay, I guess next time I have to save your life I just won’t,” you retorted. Jerk. Whatever butterflies you felt when you originally saw him had now vanished. Mostly.

“Save my life? Please. I would’ve been fine. But instead you decided to be an idiot and jump in front of me like we’re in some dumb action movie and freak everyone out.”

“Are you really gonna lecture me right now?” you said tiredly, ignoring how cute he looked when he was indignant, eyes bright and nose scrunched up.

“Yes!” he said heatedly. “Of course I’m gonna fucking lecture you; I had to sit there and watch you nearly bleed out! Do you have any idea how scared I was that you were going to die in my arms? Do you have any idea what that would do to me? No, you don’t, because you’re selfish and annoying and you—”

“Peter,” you said abruptly. “Shut up.”

He bristled. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” you repeated, leaning forward and putting your hand on the back of his neck, “shut up.” Peter opened his mouth, either to argue further or to ask what you were doing, but you silenced him by pressing your lips against his.

You really had no idea what possessed you to do that. For some reason, watching Peter yell at you made something in your brain click, and you thought oh. The next thing you knew, you were kissing.

While it clearly surprised him at first, Peter eventually kissed you back, his hands flying up to cup your face. You wondered why you hadn’t thought to do this sooner, why you spent so much time fighting when it could’ve been put to better use.

Eventually, though, the pain in your side was becoming unbearable, and you had no choice but to pull away from him and lean back. “Sorry,” you said, a little embarrassed. “Just . . . gunshot wound and all.”

His eyes widened. “Shit, that’s right. Are you okay? I forgot.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “And it was worth it to do that.” You smiled and he returned it, his cheeks tinted a light shade of pink.

“I guess you did say you wished we could do something other than fight.”

“I did say that, huh?” You chuckled. “Well, this seems like a pretty good start.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. He hesitated, looking down at his lap. “And, uh, I know I hog your dad a lot, but . . . I was thinking that maybe we could hang out sometime too? Just me and you?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly feeling a little shy. “Yeah, definitely. Um, what did you have in mind?”

He shrugged. “Maybe once you’re feeling better I could take you out for dinner? I just got my license and May won’t mind me borrowing her car for the night . . . but only if you want to,” he added hastily.

You couldn’t believe how silly you felt, with butterflies in your stomach like a little kid with a crush. “Dinner sounds really, really great.�� You paused. “But right now . . . can you just stay? With me?”

Peter stared at you for a second before he nodded, a small but relieved smile on his face. “Of course I’ll stay. As long as you want.”

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes. “And I, uh, never got to thank you. For saving me. So . . . thank you.”

He shrugged, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “You’re the one who saved me. I just carried you out.”

When Tony came back half an hour later to make sure you hadn’t killed each other, he was only mildly surprised to find the two of you fast asleep in your bed, Peter carefully curled around you. He pulled out his phone and took a picture, sending it to Steve with only a few words as his caption:

Told you they’d figure it out

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x stark!reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x stark!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker oneshot #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman oneshot #marvel fanfiction #marvel oneshot #writing #stark!reader

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malicerewatchesdoctorwho · 4 years

Text

The Evil of the Daleks - Episode Two (New Version)

Written by – David Whitaker Director – Derek Martinus Producer – Innes Lloyd

Episode Two

("If we cannot find Jamie, the Daleks will take pleasure in killing everyone in sight. And their greatest pleasure will be in killing me." - The Doctor to Waterfield about what the Daleks will do if they don't get what they want.)

Likes

- The Doctor telling Jamie not to knock into anything and Jamie immediately knocking into something after he said it.

- Waterfield. I just feel so bad for him being stuck doing things he doesn't want to for Daleks who have his daughter captive...poor man.

- Pfff, Perry's name being Keith and that being the name on the business card. Ooops there, Doctor.

- Jamie just grabbing onto Perry so he doesn't go running off and them all walking into the dark mystery of a door opening all on its own.

- Jamie cautiously touching the teleporter while the Doctor just climbs all over it. Yes, Jamie, be cautious of new things.

- Perry is so confused, poor chap. I like him in his little part in this episode.

- The Doctor having to think for a second when he hears Molly say the Master. After thinking it was the Master, he thought of Waterfield, only to find out, no it's Maxtible. So many Master's :P

- Victoria rebelling against Daleks the only way she can. By starving herself and feeding the birds, even though that is against what she is told to do. Yes, be a rebel.

- Maxtible using the fire of a bunsen burner to light his cigar. Hah, nice.

- The Daleks using Jamie for their experiment for the human factor and not the Doctor. The Daleks are smarter than humans it seems, who keep mistaking he Doctor for a human XD

Dislikes

- I don't like Maxtible. Pretty sure I didn't like him before either. That man is terrifying.

- Victoria, I feel your pain. The Daleks are cruel and torture you with sound.

- What is with the constant remarks of Victoria looking just like her mother? What, can she not be her own person because she does?

- Jamie being in so little of the episode and after getting up and finding out where he is immediately getting clobbered on the head by...a thief?

- What the heck did Molly do to the thief guy? Just...what? I like her. She's upbeat and flirty with Jamie and its great. She's the good kind of flirt. Unlike Sam in the last story.

- Ummm...what was the point of introducing Ruth? Apart from being the daughter of Theodore, there's nothing there but her being a Maxtible. I will just think of her as the spare.

- Wait...how do the Daleks have a picture of Jamie? Is it from the Doctor's future? Because I am pretty sure the last the Daleks were in the show, Ben and Polly were with them, but Jamie wasn't. Huh. Time travel.

Awesome

- Bird song for the Doctor and Jamie to wake up to. That's nice.

- Victoria's dress.

- Maxtible's lab. Nice set.

Shitty

- You know how i said in the first episode I loved the music? Well, the music may be awesome, but that high pitched biiiiing noise at the start during the Dalek scene hurt my ears so damn much...also it sounded more like the Doctor Who theme song than it does the Dalek music.

- The noise of the weight machine Victoria is forced into by Daleks, holy shit that is ear-splitting.

- Speaking of that weight machine. The future is calling, they want it for reality tv shows.

In Conclusion

I really enjoyed this episode, but for a few things. Quite a few which are just nitpicking. So much fun. You find out a bit of the Dalek plans. And that Jamie is to be their human experimental lab rat so is needed alive.

Ruth seemed like a waste of a character, but apart from that, evryone has their place. I say I wish Jamie was in it more, but we will get plenty of him in the rest of the story.

This one is so much better with context, especially that first episode.

Next episode and the rest of this story will prove interesting to me and then season 4 is finished *gasp!* Yep, it's happening. After a very, very long time.

Body count - 1. Kennedy. He got killed by the Dalek at the start, as he didn't answer who he was (and it's a Dalek. They kill people.)

#Classic Doctor Who #doctor who #the evil of the daleks #episode two #epic rewatch #Second Doctor #Jamie McCrimmon #Victoria Waterfield #daleks

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princessnyria · 4 years

Photo

( alia bhatt, cis female, she/her ) — here ye, here ye, behold the princess of sunspear, nyria martell. the twenty-four year old is known for being adventurous but has the tendency to be calculating too, which should be expected of the storm of sunspear. ( slender daggers peaking out of the fanned out hem of a vibrant dress, the relishing relief of the first drops of rain after a drought, a quirked brow that goes unnoticed by an enemy who’s already been beaten, the taste of freedom on tongue as you ride towards the setting sun on a sand steed )

BASICS.

full name: nyria nymerios martell. title: princess of dorne. kingdom: dorne. unique title / moniker: the storm of sunspear. gender: cis female. age: twenty four. sexuality: bisexual. abilities: elemental - rhoynish water magic.

FAMILY.

parents: prince luras martell and princess natari martell. siblings: queen dyana targaeryn née martell ( older sister ), prince dariss martell ( older brother ), princess valeria martell née staunton ( sister-in-law ). spouse: none. children: none.

FAST FACTS.

she’s definitely a charmer & knows how to turn it on when she wants to.

she adores her sand steed, named cress, takes better care of it than herself.

known for wearing colorful dornish gowns.

she’s vexingly defiant & believes when it comes to those close to her, it’s usually best to practice honesty to the point of bluntness because secrets among people you’re near to can get you killed

while she’s by no means a warrior, her parents did teach her to protect herself so she can hold her own & her father specifically shared with her his love of spears as a weapon

ABOUT.

they say the drought bore down on dorne as one of the longest they’d ever had to weather. that is, until the water broke on her mother’s womb and she was born– her birth was accompanied by a bold storm that rose above sunspear and moved throughout the nation, ending the drought and saving the land from further despair. the baby was named nyria, a shortened derivative of nymeria, an homage to their first princess and the woman who commanded ten thousand ships.

they called her the storm of sunspear and the smallfolk sang praises of an oblivious infant nyria for weeks. they claimed the skies broke with her birth, claimed she was born just to save them from scarcity, that she was glory made flesh - they claimed her for greatness. she became a legend just by being born and she’s never known how to stand in front of a shadow cast so big by happenstance.

she always adored her parents. their weathered eyes winking with vigor and passion when they smiled on her with preciousness, she couldn’t help but be in awe of them both. her mother grew her love of horses and held wisdom and bite in one body. and nyria loved her father especially, always following him around and tugging at his shirt. he loved her in kind, putting a spear in her hand when she was scarcely old enough to grip it all the way and even allowing her to sit beside his throne or on his lap when he was working - it was one of the rare times she could sit still. watching him fight and rule, she thought him the bravest man in all the world.

her valorous nature and adventurous spirit lead her into mischief, even when she was young. her older siblings were twins so nyria was determined to make her own fun, often wandering off. her mother would capture her attention with stories at night and nyria drank them up, relishing in the tales of intrigue and daring, memorizing many by heart.

she lost her parents too young, only being about 12; each year she grows older her remembrance of them grows more and more into absence. she’s managed to fill the emptiness inside with rage. she had always been an excitable girl, and had never much cared for the world outside her beloved dorne. but with her parents taken from her, convinced it was by the targaryen’s, her anger grew. and swelled even higher when she heard her eldest sister had been sold off like some steed to the targaryen’s in the name of “peace” - peace with a destructive empire with maddening rulers ruled by their own madness and greed.

with the death of her parents came the worry for her, the guards being greater and the eyes cutting sharper in her direction. but the way she was treated was not all that changed; nyria changed too. her carefree-nature melted into something more focused. she had to be smarter, like her siblings. she would not wear her emotions across her face like she used to. she would learn to hold her tongue around certain people until she was ready to bite. though she is not great at it, she has grown better through the years, much more calculating. her mind has always been interested in unique military strategies, and she applied that nature with relation to those who were her enemies - and many became her enemy in her mind’s eye with the death of her parents. she no longer knew who she could trust.

now she wears daggers under her dresses, concealed so well that the only time you can truly tell she’s unarmed is when she’s disrobed. now she is learning what it means to find freedom, if not for herself then at least for her people.

as the only eligible child of house martell left for betrothal, her hand was looked upon as advantageous. dorne is different, is allowed certain privileges that other lands are not, dorne is strong and the title of prince, even if it is not a ruling one, is alluring enough that many houses, great and otherwise, attempted to form an alliance through marriage with dorne. but they should’ve looked past her hand and to the anger in her eyes. while many came to vie for her hand, promising plenty to the prince, they did not have what it took to walk among vipers - and a young nyria proved it, placing serpents in their beds, at the feet of their steeds, and sometimes into their minds with doubt-causing whispers. she scared them off and her family was not stupid - they knew what she was doing. but her brother has not seen fit to marry her off yet.

nyria likes her hand unheld and free of a husband. in an attempt at rebellion, in the hopes of keeping her sovereignty longer, she bedded her first love in early adolescence. taking pleasure in her own, she continued her flirtatious trend. and who could resist such a girl, whose tongue can tame vipers when she sees fit but who tears through a room like a hurricane. she beds men and women in kind, though she considers her weakness to be skillful women with an air of danger about them.

it was a few years ago when she got lost traveling. an argument leading her to ride off alone, desperate to get away from the overbearing principles of responsibility. a sand storm found her lost on her own in the desert for days. the heat bore down and the water grew scarce and her anger and frustrating grew, swirling around her and on the second day, half delirious, she laid next to a dry stream as her emotions boiled over. she could scarcely remember the words she whispered to herself as water began to flow back into the stream. she had barely the strength to wet her face and her tongue before she passed out. she was found the next day unconscious next to a free-flowing stream that none could remember being there.

when she awoke back home, she at first tried to convince herself it was a hallucination but she could not ignore the hum in her bones, the difference in…something…or perhaps it had always been there, and she’d never known or chosen to ignore it. she could not resist the tug towards the library and ancient scrolls on water magic, learning about the rhoynish practice of it. she was particularly interested in how it was able to stop dragons…

now she feels the power crackling inside of her. she cannot do much because she has not managed control. even small acts like attempting to water a plant bring on a flooding of a fountain near her instead. she has told scarcely anyone about it, unsure what to make of it. it kills her to admit it, but she may need help, if she ever wants to make this power useful.

the sadness never goes away, the suffocating pressure of everyone she has lost sitting stiflingly in her chest. she wishes she could be as open as she once was when she was younger but the walls are there now. she questions her capability to love when she already carries so many people in her heart: her parents, her siblings, her people, her land. or when suitors have always said love and marriage and meant power and ownership and control. sometimes she thinks the burning anger inside of her is what is keeping her alive, though she questions if you can live off of fury.

she is leashed chaos, driven by love, emboldened by belief, and made all the more complicated with growing power - not just in the magical sense but also in the way she’s learned to conduct herself politically. her tongue still strikes like a serpent but she waits for it to coil more carefully now.

she is incredibly loyal, loving, and protective of her family, particularly her siblings. growing up, they were all she had. her heart is with dorne and her people. she’s heard the flippant, remarks by those in the other kingdoms about the dornish and their culture and in truth, the talk, and many of them, disgust her. she finds their succession laws foolish, much of their culture barbaric, and their food bland. she is quick to remind everyone that dorne was never conquered by the targaryens, that even fire and blood cannot make the sun bow to it, that in truth, the legacy of the targaryen conquest in dorne is one of failure; dorne only joined the seven kingdoms through marriage. and though it was on dornish terms, nyria’s always thought it a mistake. what do the other kingdoms know of dorne?

WANTED PLOTS & CONNECTIONS.

you can find my post of wanted connections here! please feel free to message me to plot. i prefer tumblr but can do discord as well though i’m not well-versed. and/or like this and i’ll hit you up.

#loyal:intro #hi i'm diane!#asldfajsdl that is all #sorry this is kinda long

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lori-the-dragon-ninja · 5 years

Text

Not so special afterall

TW///blood/stabbing

Cole: Anyone got a plan?

Kai: Well, we could-

Cole: Let me stop you right there, anyone got a good plan?

Kai: You didn't even let me fini-

Jay: Maybe we can do a surprise attack?

Lloyd: Hmm... Alright, here's the plan...

The ninja are in the first realm, Faith called them over when she noticed dragons disappearing. Her fears turned out to be true, other hunter clans are still capturing dragons.

Forstbourne was busy caring for younglings, she needed to stay at her nest and protect them, they were too young to even see. Faith, and the ninja took some dragons and started looking. The rest of the former hunters decided to stay in case any of the other clans decided to attack.

The ninja managed to track them. They can hear what seems like half a dozen dragons in the clan's camp. It has a wall with guards around it so they can't just sneak in.

They decided to use a distraction. All the dragons, led by a fire dragon rode by Faith, flew straight for the gates. All the guards from the wall ran to defend the front gate, just like planned. With the guards gone, the ninja could easily sneak in over the back wall unnoticed.

It didn't take them long to find the captured dragons, since they were roaring in distress, and break the chains.

The previously captured dragons' escape got the clan's attention. Half of the guards went to fight the ninja.

All the dragons, including the ones the ninja brought, started to flee when the arrows started falling from the sky and chains started trying to grab them, wrap themselevs around the dragons' bodies like snakes and leaving them trapped.

They could probably survive the arrows and avoid the chains, but due to all the horribe memories, the dragons decided running would be a smarter option.

For the ninja, it was all going well, until an earth dragon, in it's confusion and fear while trying to break free and leave, slammed it's head in the ground creating an earthquake that threw Lloyd off his feat.

He tried to get up as fast as he could, but before he completely stood up he felt a sudden sharp pain in his abdomen.

He looked down and saw a blade coming through his belly, covered in blood. His flesh started to burn. Pain started to grow by the second.

He didn't scream. He experienced worse. This was more shocking and frightening than it was painful. At least, at first. When the pain started to grow, and didn't stop, that's when he started hyperventilating and sobbing.

He didn't even acknowledge what was happening around him. He didn't notice the guy who stabbed him laying on the floor, unconscious, in a pool of blood. He didn't notice the fight being over. He didn't notice his friends calling him.

He could hear muffled screams in the distance, but who was that? Who were they calling? He didn't know and he didn't really care. He couldn't take his eyes off of the wound, the blood slowly trickling down his skin was... hypnotic.

It's almost like time slowed down. Everything was calm. It was just him. Silence.

Then, the real world hit him as he snapped back into reality.

He was suddenly on the floor, his breathing out of control, everything was loud. He was confused, disoriented, scared.

Kai: Lloyd?! Can you hear me buddy?

Nya: It's okay, it's gonna be okay! Everything is going to be fine!

It sounded more like Nya was telling that to herself.

------

The dragons flew away during the battle. The ninja had to cross a big ravine to get to here, there was no way they were going back that way on foot. And without the dragons, they couldn't go back to Ninjago.

Faith: There might be a way around if we go north.

Jay: Might? Might be? Lloyd got stabbed,the dragons left us stranded and there might be a way back to camp? Great, just great!

Zane: There has to be a way. The other clan got on the other side and they don't have dragons to ride. Logically speaking, there has to be a way around.

Jay: But where? Where do we even start?

Cole: How about we ask someone from this camp?

Camp Leader: Hah, we'd rather die than help you!

Kai: Oh, you will die after what you did to our brother!

Camp Leader: Then so be it.

Faith: I know of a way back, but it requires climbing steep cliffs, which Lloyd cannot do. So I guess we just go north and hope that there really is a path there.

Lloyd was laying on the ground, Nya was carefully using her powers to wash the wound so it wouldn't get infected. He was bleeding quickly and they couldn't do anything to stop it.

In order to put pressure they would need to remove the blade. The blade was clogging up the wound, slowing the bleeding. Removing it would only make things worse.

They had to travel north. It was their only choice.

------

After hours of traveling they made a camp and took a break. They have been carrying Lloyd for miles, and he was heavy. Not to mention they had to comfort him all the way because the pain only got worse over time.

The bleeding didn't help. He was pale, very pale. If the bleeding didn't stop soon, they would have to cauterize the wound, aka heat something up and put a burning hot material against Lloyd's skin. They didn't want to cause him even more pain, so they tried to put that off for as long as possible.

------

After the break they had to start climbing a mountain, which proved to be even more difficult. They were already exhausted, both from the fight and the trip. They had to stop again and take a nap. At least for a few minutes.

Lloyd was still bleeding, but luckily the pain stopped getting worse, although the level it was at now was still quite agonizing and wouldn't let him rest.

But what was worse, he started hallucinating.

He saw three glowing dragons land near him. They looked just like the golden dragon. They looked so real. Were they real? No, that was impossible, right? Was it impossible?

Cole: Uhh... guys?

The ninja started to open their eyes.

Cole: Does anyone else see the golden dragons?

Lloyd: So... I'm not hallucinating?

Without a warning, there were three bright flashes of light.

"Can we help you?"

"Help them? We don't know who they are!"

"They look like they need help!"

"Are you insane? What reason do we have to help them?"

The two arguing voices were interruped by a third, soft one.

"Fortisa is right, we should help them."

"Flos? You can't be serious!"

Flos: Yes Letalis, I am serious. Don't you sense it?

Letalis: Sense what? That they're trouble?

Fortisa: Flos has a point. The young boy. He is one of us.

Jay: Uhh, what's going on?

Cole: Who are you people?

Flos: My name is Flos and these aree my sibilings: my sister Fortisa and my brother Letalis.

Letalis: And who are you? And why are you on our territory?

After the introduction and explanation of how they got into this situation, the three sibilings offered to take them to their home and care for their wounds.

Having no better choice, the team accepted, fearing that they would be dooming Lloyd to bleed out if they didn't accept help.

Zane: Thank you. We are forever in your debt.

Flos: No problem. It was our pleasure.

Letalis: Speak for yourself...

Nya: Just one question; why did you help us. I mean, it's no that I'm complaining, it's just- ya know...

Fortisa: Doesn't really make sense? Yeah, I get it. Buy you know, our kind has to stick together.

Cole: Your kind?

Fortisa: Yeah, my sibilings and the blond kid.

Lloyd: Me? What are you talking about? What kind are you?

Flos: Oh, how rude of us, I apologise. We are the dragonies, the hybrids between the mighty dragons and the cunning oni. And we sense, so are you.

They are oni and dragon hybrids? What? There's more of them? Was the First Spinjitzu Master not the only one? Did he have more descendants than Lloyd, Garmadon and Wu? Is there something else master Wu hasn't told them?

After briefly for the wound the sibilings transformed into dragons and took the team higher up in the mountains, then down through tunnels, through what seemed like a maze, back up all the way above clouds until they saw a village.

Above the village more golden dragons soared, in it was dozens of people, presumably also hybrids.

I guess being an oni-dragon hybrid doesn't make you so special afterall.

#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #happy ending #golden dragon #first realm #the realm of oni and dragons

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imagine-by-susu · 5 years

Text

Slytherin!Sherlock x Ravenclaw!Reader - You owe me 10 galleons!

A/N: I wrote this in one swift move. I don’t know how or why but I did. Thanks to @practicallylivesonline Hope that this is good :3 Word Count: 2.938 (I don’t know what happend here...)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

GIF IS NOT MINE!

_______________________________________________________________________

Sherlock was a loner. He believed this for a long time as well. Then he met John, a Gryffindor in his year. Unlike other Gryffindors, John didn’t care that Sherlock was Slytherin and sometimes a bit unaware of the way he was acting towards others. For a while the concept of friendship confused Sherlock, but he got the hang out of it and spend a lot of time with his new best friend. His social skills weren’t still the best, but he wasn’t in Hogwarts to learn more about social skills, but magic. The smart boy was top of all his classes, to the pleasure of the teachers and displeasure of his classmates. Well, he thought that he was the best, but when the sixth school year began he was proven wrong. He never liked to be proven wrong. It made him look like an idiot and that was something that reminded him of his older brother Mycroft. It started right in the first period of the school year. Potions, one of his favorites of all classes. John had sat down beside a follow Gryffindor, a blonde girl, he was introduced to during their last year at school. “It is alright John.” Sherlock assured his friend when he tried to make sure that it was indeed alright to take another seat. “I just want to make sure that it is really okay. Maybe someone you completely dislike will be your partner for the rest of the year.” John commented on it but Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. “I hate everyone here, except you.” was his final comeback before he sat down on his usual spot in the front row. It only took a few seconds before another person sat beside him. From the corners of his blue eyes he could make out something blue. A Ravenclaw girl had sat down beside him, already pulling out her books and notes to place them neatly onto the table. But Sherlock wasn’t really interested to get involved with new People. He was against new people, he told John all the time. Of course, someone wanted Sherlock to have a more social experience over the lesson as the potion’s professor announced that table neighbors should work together on the potion. “I know you don’t like the idea of working together, but for the sake of our grade I would recommend you to do it.” came the voice from beside him. Bored, he turned his face to look at the Ravenclaw that would be his partner for the potion. Her posture was straight and not hunched down like the rest of the students, her (Y/H/C) hair in a neat ponytail to make sure that no strand would fall into her face during the lesson. Yes, he had to admit that she might be smart, but she never was as smart as he was and that was something, he silently wanted to prove to her, despite not knowing who is table neighbor was. “Alright, first we need…” she started but he quickly interrupted her. “We need Shrivelifg, Porcupine quills, Peppermint sprigs, Sopophorous beans and Wormwood.” he rattled down in a bored tone without even glancing at his book. Impressed the girl looked at him before she checked the book making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. “Wow, I knew you were smart, but that was impressive.” she said making him raise an eyebrow. Most of his classmates were annoyed when he interrupted them but this girl was amazed. No one was amazed by him. Anyway, Sherlock brushed it off and with a loud of corrections of his side and taking notes when he does exactly that from her side, they brewed the potion in record time. “Very impressive, Mr. Holmes and Miss (Y/L/N).” the professor praised both of them in high words. Death glares were sent to them from their classmates but the school bell rang and announced the end of this class. John walked up to Sherlock with an impressed look on his face while he leant onto Sherlocks desk while the dark haired male put his book into his bag. “Made a new friend who can keep up with your brain?” the blond teased with a grin but Sherlock ignored him. John sighed and shook his head before he left with his best friend, separating their ways because they had different classes now. And to Sherlocks surprise he saw his potions partner once again already sitting at the table he always occupied. Not really liking the idea of changing seats he only shrugged and sat down beside the Ravenclaw girl. “Hey, thanks for pointing out my mistakes from potions earlier.” she said, turning around to face him but Sherlock only huffed, pulling out his notes not looking into her general direction. The girl only shrugged and grabbed her quill, already taking some notes before the class had even started.

- This went on for the entire day. Sherlock would grab his things to leave the class only the meet the Ravenclaw in the other class. And in all of these classes they sat beside each other, but surprisingly Sherlock didn’t mind that much. The Ravenclaw girl was quiet, taking notes and never asked any stupide questions. Quiet the opposite actually. She would often start a conversation over the classes topic and discussed it with him. Well, most of the time she talked while he only listened to her words, that weren’t garbage. During Lunch, John and Mary joined Sherlock whose nose was stuck in a book. While John ate a sandwich, he looked at his friend. “So,” he started, gulping down the last bits of his sandwich. “You are now partners with Ravenclaws smartest student.” Sherlock rose his head from his book, the dark locks bouncing a little. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” John retorted with an eye roll by the confused look on Sherlocks face. Mary nodded at that, before quickly glancing to the Ravenclaw table. “Yes, some people say she is the smartest Ravenclaw in our year but some even say that she is smarter than the seventh graders.” “And why are you telling me something I already know?” Sherlock huffed not getting the point of this conversation. Mary and John shared a quick look before John continued on. “The smartest guy in Hogwarts teams up with the smartest girl of Hogwarts.” Sherlock still didn’t seem to get the point while he looked at his friend bewildered. “This could mean great fortune or great Chaos.” the blond man ended and Sherlock rolled his eyes at the irrational words of his friends. “Once again you have proven yourself as delusional, John Watson.” Sherlock said sticking his nose back into his back while John tried his best not to slam said book into Sherlocks face. - For years Sherlock was bored during school time. Nothing, really nothing at all, not even the classes about apparition was a big challenge for him. John and Mary were out on the Quidditch field for the upcoming match. Out of options to keep his bored mind at ease, he grabbed one of his books and decided that a bit of learning wouldn’t hurt at all to keep his mind busy until his friend returned. Opening the book he rose an eyebrow to see that sticky notes were all over it. Sherlock didn’t use sticky notes. He didn’t need them. Now with a risen eyebrow he eyed the notes carefully. The handwriting was small and neat. Words carefully chosen with arrows or symbols, probably to help the person memorize the content of the book. A tap on his shoulder made him look from the book and he was met with (Y/E/C) eyes. His Ravenclaw partner stood their pointing at the book before him. “I accidently grabbed your book.” she said handing him his own book. “Sorry for that, I was a bit in a hurry.” For a brief second Sherlock pondered on what to say to her and before he could end his train of thoughts correctly, he opened his mouth. “It’s okay. Want to learn with me?” the girl held an irritated expression over his request. “Are you sure?” she asked him and he simply nodded at her, not explaining what had caused this kind of question. When she sat down beside him he slid the book into her direction. With a smile she thanked him before her eyes glanced over her notes. A moment long he watched while she silently read over the words she had written. Noticing his piercing gaze on her, (Y/N) turned her head to him. “You are the smartest guy in the entire school, care to explain to me how this spell works?” she requested to him while she pointed at complicated spell. Since he had nothing better to do and could show of his intelligence he agreed to help her. When John and Mary arrived they were totally surprised to see Sherlock and (Y/N) learning together. “Am I dreaming?” asked the boy and the girl shook her head, her eyes wide as she watched Sherlock gesture some movements with his hands while (Y/N) nodded and repeated the movements slowly. “No John, you aren’t dreaming.” she patted him on the shoulder with a light smile, being happy for Sherlock having found a new friend. - The tutor lesson Sherlock gave (Y/N) in the great hall wasn’t the last. Overt the course of weeks they constantly met up, most of the time in the library, to learn silently beside each other or Sherlock helping her out with something. From time to time John and Mary joined them. Both Gryffindor’s were confused as to why (Y/N) needed Sherlocks help, because apparently, she was very good on her own. When Mary had asked her one time about it, she shrugged her shoulders. “I know a lot of things, but when learn something new, I want to everything about it and for that I need help from someone smarter than me.” with that she pointed to Sherlock who wasn’t even listening to their conversation. A knowing smile crossed Mary’s lips while she and John exchanged some looks (Y/N) couldn’t really understand. “Well, it is nice of Sherlock to help. It is not every day that he does this.” John pointed out. While John and Mary were the first ones to notice the little changes in Sherlocks behavior it didn’t take long for the entire school to notice. Sherlock was still a quiet smartypants for the most part, but when he corrected someone it was more gentle and didn’t sound as snarky as it sounded before. Even the Professors had caught up on it with great surprise. Not because Sherlock and (Y/N) getting better and better notes for their work but also for the teamwork. “They are an example of working together despite being in different houses.” McGonagall once said at the teacher’s tables. “I can sense a great future blossoming between these two.” Professor Trelawny muttered with a big grin on her face, but no one really paid attention to her mumbling. “Indeed, both Mr. Holmes and Miss (Y/L/N) work really good together.” Dumbledore smiled as his wise blue eyes looked from the Ravenclaw table over to the Slytherin table where he noticed Sherlock sitting all by himself but instead of having his nose in one of the heavy books, he stared over to the Ravenclaw table. “Young love. So enviable.” he sighed with grin on his face. “Oh please, Albus. Mr. Holmes has no such interest in anyone. He is too much like his big brother.” McGonagall huffed but the director only turned to the woman with challenging look. - “…and this is why it is so dangerous to give someone Amortencia.” (Y/N) ended her little lecture while she sat at the black lake together with her new found friend Sherlock. The boy looked at the sky, his head rested on her lap, listening to her words. “So, as I said before, is this potion only fooling the person to be in love but it is actually just chemical reaction.” the girl nodded and looked down at him, blocking his view to the sky. “Exactly. Feelings are something unpredictable, so unpredictable even that no magic in this world can manipulate them.” Sherlock groaned a bit. “Yes, this is exactly why I hate feelings. They are unpredictable, irrational and confusing. It gets in the way of logical thinking.” (Y/N) laughed a little at that, expecting such an answer from him. Totally out of nowhere she started to run a hand through his dark curls and he closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of it. “You would’ve made a perfect Ravenclaw you know that?” Sherlock hummed at that. “Yes, I know. the sorting hat said the same think.” he muttered. After silence fell over them, only the splashing of the water and the rustling of leaves was heard around them. “Say, Sherlock…?” (Y/N) started after a while. The boy hummed in response, not opening his eyes, still enjoying the feeling of her fingers massaging his scalp. “What are your plans after Hogwarts?” she asked him looking down at the boy in her lap, stopping her hand for a moment, making him open his sky blue eyes. He blinked for a moment to get used to the light before he looked into the face of his friend. “I don’t know.” he shrugged his shoulders. “Did the almighty Sherlock Holmes really said that he doesn’t know something?” she teased him with a big grin on her face making him groan. “Really mature of you (Y/N).” she giggled at that. “When it is so funny tell me what your plans are.” he huffed at her giving her challenging look. For a moment she seemed to think about her answer. “Maybe I could in the Ministry…” Sherlock sat up quickly, nearly scaring the Ravenclaw but his sudden movements. He turned to face her with a blank expression. “The Ministry is boring and you have much more potential than that.” a little smile crossed her lips at his kind words. “Well, thank you Sherlock, but other than that there is not much that interests me.” she explained but he shook his dark locks. “Then try something new.” “You just don’t want that I work at the place your brother does.” she laughed at him as he looked away. “Well,…maybe.” he muttered before he got up brushing of some leaves that fell onto his uniform. - And for the rest of the year Sherlock took it into his own hands to make (Y/N) believe that the Ministry wasn’t a good place for her smart personality. Surprisingly, many jokes were made between them, a lot more time was spent in the library and more often than not did they ate each other, it didn’t matter if it was in Hogsmeade during the weekends or a simple meal in the great hall. All these looks other students and even some teachers gave them were unseen by there usually attentive eyes. John and Mary caught them more than once holding hands, despite Sherlock not really liking physical contact. When John pointed it out, Sherlock demanded that John was just seeing things and when Mary confirmed Johns words, Sherlock desperately tried his best to get out of the conversation. Most students didn’t even try anymore to be better than Sherlock and (Y/N). Both were unstoppable, not matter what classes it was. The smartest guy and the smartest girl in entire Hogwarts had formed a bond and there was no way to get through it. The expectations were high on them both but that only spurred them on even more. Sherlock was sure that he would beat Mycroft’s score. This is what he had told (Y/N) during their last dinner for this year. “Then I will step out of the train and will hold it right under his nose.” Sherlock said with a big smile on his face, already excited about the next years exams and how he would beat his brother only to tease him about it for the rest of his live. “You really don’t like your brother, do you?” (Y/N) chuckled taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. “He always told I was an Idiot and I believed, that was until we met other kids.” Sherlock explained and you nearly choked on your drink before you started to laugh. He liked when you laughed, especially when it was about something he had said. Never in his live had a person laughed about a joke he told them, mostly because they didn’t understand, but (Y/N), she understood all of it. “Now I am feeling like dump little kid.” she laughed but Sherlock quickly shook his head. “No, you are different.” he said making her look up at him with a light smile. She ruffled over his dark locks, that now looked even more disheveled than they already were. “I know Sherlock, I was only messing with you.” and without thinking about it, like it came all naturally she leant in and pecked his lips. It was like the entire hall went quiet for a moment. Sherlock blinked confused, his ear tips turning bright right while noises came from the teachers table. Everyone turned around only to see Dumbledore putting down his palm onto the table and smirking at Professor McGonagall. “Minerva! You owe me ten Galleons. I told you they would kiss by the end of the year!” he declared loudly. “…Did Professor Dumbledore really…?” (Y/N) asked to Sherlock, now blushing like tomato as well. “Yes. He bet on us…” Sherlock said his face resembling Johns bright red quidditch uniform.

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc sherlock #x reader #hogwarts au #sherlock holmes x reader hogwarts au #slytherin!sherlock x ravenclaw!reader #slytherin!sherlock #ravenclaw!reader #sherlock imagine #hp #Harry Potter

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blue-heart-loves-you · 5 years

Text

Addie, Introduced

It starts, as many things do, with a book.

Blue sits at their desk in the bookshop, humming to themself, watching the small crowd of customers peruse the shelves with a smile. They’re just about to announce that the shop will be closing in half an hour, when a pair of tiny hands reach up to drop a considerably-sized book on their desk.

Blue leans over the desk to see a small girl, likely no older than six or seven, looking up at them with owlish amber eyes. She has a mane of curly red hair that comes down to the middle of her back, a green jacket that looks a little worse for wear, and blue jeans that are rolled up at her ankles to reveal little scuffed black sneakers. She smiles shyly up at Blue.

“’Scuse me,” she says, as though she’s interrupted something, “but can I please brorrow this?”

Blue holds back a squeal, instead nodding and picking up the book.

“Of course, kiddo!” As they scan the book, they notice the title. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. They raise their eyebrows as they hand it back to the girl, who immediately cradles it to her chest. “Nice choice there, you must be a really good reader!”

The girl nods proudly, curls bouncing and eyes shining. “Madeline--she’s a fifth grader--says it’s her favorite, so I gotta read it an’ prove I’m smarter than her, ‘cuz I am! Miss Reila says I’m the best reader in the whole class! An’ I always finish my vocabuary tests before anyone else!”

“Wow, that’s amazing!” Blue looks genuinely impressed. “Well, kiddo, do you have an adult with you who can give me their phone number? That way I can make sure you turn that back in?”

The girl’s eyes dim slightly, and her shoulders hunch.

“Um... My momma is across the street. I saw this in the window, and she said I gotta get it by myself, l-like a big girl...”

Blue hums. They know a lie when they see one, but they don’t mention it, instead giving a reassuring smile.

“Aw, that’s alright! You did a very good job! How about this.” They pull a notepat out from one of their drawers, and grab a flower pen from the cup on their desk, walking around to crouch in front of the girl. They hold the pen out to her, resting the notepad on their knee.

“Write your name on this, and whenever you return the book, whoever is here will know that it’s you!”

The girl bites her lip. “Do I gotta write my whole name?”

Blue shakes their head. “Nope! Whatever name you want us to call you works just fine!”

The girl seems to relax as the shifts her book under her right arm and takes the pen with her left. In a surprisingly neat hand--for a child, anyways--she writes out her name.

“Addie.” Blue hums, standing back up. “That’s a lovely name!”

The girl--Addie--giggles. “Thank you! It’s short for Adelaide, but I don’t like spellin’ it.”

Blue nods. “I totally understand. I’m Blue, and it’s been great talking to you, Miss Addie!”

Addie giggles again, then gasps. “Oh! I gotta go back home before it gets dark! Thank you, Blue!” She runs towards the door, and Blue watches her go.

---

A week passes. A week that Blue spends thinking about Addie. Why did she lie about her mother? Why were her clothes so messy, like she didn’t wear anything else? Angel listens to their worries, reassures them that they’ll see her again soon, and while Blue tries to listen, they just can’t help but worry.

But anyways.

A week passes, and Blue is back at their desk, watching customers start leaving when they announce that the shop is to close soon. They can’t really explain why they suddenly feel happier when they see a familiar pair of hands dropping a familiar book on their desk.

Addie pushes up on the tips of her toes, smiling widely at Blue, her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck, but still no less of a mane.

“Well hello there,” Blue greets cheerfully. “I was wondering when I’d see you again!”

“I finished the book!” Addie hops a couple of times, clearly very excited. “It was sooooo good! I really liked Hermione! And Fred and George!”

“Wow, finished already?” Blue chuckles, picking up the book and scanning it before dropping it in the dropbox. “I’m so glad you liked it! Are you ready for the next one?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Please!”

Blue comes out from behind her desk and holds their hand out to Addie. “C’mon, I’ll show you where to find them.”

Addie hesitates, looking between Blue’s hand and their face, before taking it. Blue smiles and gently leads her to the “popular fantasy” section. They point to a shelf full of Harry Potter books.

“Right there is where we keep them all,” they explain. “And we have a bunch of copies in the storeroom too, so if you’re ever looking for one and it isn’t there, let whoever is at the desk know and they’ll get it for you.”

Addie gasps and rushes over to the shelf, pulling off Chamber of Secrets and looking at Blue like they just told her she was going to Hogwarts.

“I... I can read all of ‘em?”

Blue nods. “Of course! All of them, as many times as you want.”

“Wow...” She hugs the book to her chest. “Do I gotta write my name again?”

Blue thinks for a moment, then shakes their head. “No, you don’t have to. I trust you to bring your books back in good shape.”

Addie seems relieved. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Not a problem, kiddo!"

And once again, Blue watches her leave.

---

This continues on for over a month; Addie finishes Harry Potter, but continues to come back at least one night a week and talk to Blue as they close up. Finally, Blue can’t hold back,

“Hey, Addie?”

Addie, sitting in a comfy armchair, looks up from her latest book, Wings of Fire. “Yeah?”

Blue bites their lip as they finish shelving some misplaced books. “I was wondering... Why do you only come here at night? I mean, I understand if you’re busy with school! But it’s always pretty late after school, and you’re always alone...”

Addie stares back down at her book. After a moment, she speaks.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Blue’s brows furrow in concern, but they nod. “Of course, kiddo.”

She sighs and closes her book, hugging it to her chest.

“I don’t have a momma. Or a daddy.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I live in a foster home, an’ I didn’t wanna tell you, ‘cuz I didn’t wanna make you feel--oof!”

She opens her eyes in surprise as she's pulled into a tight hug by a kneeling Blue.

"I knew it," they mumble. Addie blinks.

"Y-you knew?"

"Oh, kiddo..." Blue pulls back and gives her a sad sort of smile. "I know a lot about lying about parents."

"Oh." Addie looks down at her lap. "Are... Are you angry?"

"Of course not." Blue sighs, standing up. "But I'm walking you home from now on, okay? I don't want you walking around by yourself at night."

"Okay..." Addie slides out of the chair, taking the hand Blue offers her and letting them walk her home after closing up, only speaking to give them directions.

After half an hour, they stop in front of a small, well-kept house in one of the poorer neighborhoods in town. Addie lets go of Blue's hand, heading towards the house with her book clutched to her chest. Blue gets a sinking feeling in their chest, and can't help but call out.

"Wait!" Addie stops, not turning to look at them. "Can... Can I talk to your foster guardians for a minute?"

Addie gives a small nod before running inside. Blue waits in the yard, sending a quick voice message to Angel to let him know they'll be late coming home. After a few minutes, a frazzled-looking woman walks out, offering them a warm smile.

"Hi there," the woman greets. "You must be Blue!" She holds her hand out to Blue, who smiles back and shakes it.

"Yes, ma'am! And you're Addie's guardian?"

"Call me Liza." The woman lets go of Blue's hand, gesturing to the house. "Why don't you come in for dinner? My husband is out, so Addie and I would love the company!"

"Aw, that's sweet of you to offer, but I should get home." Blue spots Addie peeking out of a window and gives her a little wave. Her eyes go wide, and she disappears. Blue feels that sinking feeling again, but doesn't show it.

"Well," Liza says, "then you get home safe, alright? Thank you for looking after Addie for me."

"It's been my pleasure, Liza. Have a good night!"

As Blue walks home, they once again find themself consumed by worry for Addie. Liza seemed nice enough, but Blue of all people knows that looks can be deceiving...

---

The next week, Addie comes to the bookshop, settling in her chair quietly and reading while Blue cleans up shop. When they finish, they sit down in the chair beside her's.

"Addie?"

"Yeah?" She doesn't look up from her book, but Blue knows she's listening.

"I just wanted to apologize," they say, softly. "Last week, I was very rude to intrude on your home life like that. I should have waited until you were comfortable enough to tell me yourself."

Addie pulls her knees up to her chest, setting her book aside and wrapping her arms around herself.

"Please don't be sorry," she whispers. "'S my fault for not tellin' you."

"Oh, honey, no!" Blue hesitates, then rests a hand on her shoulder. "You never have to tell me anything you're not comfortable sharing, especially something as personal as your life at home."

"I guess..." She leans into Blue's touch, closing her eyes. "It's just... Miss Liza says there's some things I'm not s'posed to tell people, but I don't wanna lie to you because you're so nice!"

Blue worries at their lip. "Well, I appreciate that you don't want to lie to me, but your feelings are important too."

"My feelings..." Addie thinks for a moment, then opens her eyes, looking at Blue with anxious eyes. "I don't like it at home, Blue."

Blue gently pets her hair away from her face. "Do you wanna tell me why?"

"I... I do." She swallows. "Miss Liza is nice, but Mister Kenny is really mean."

Blue's hand stops for a moment, and their breath catches. "...What do you mean, kiddo?"

"He gets angry, and he yells..." She sniffles. "He breaks stuff and calls me bad names and-and he hurts Miss Liza and he said he was gonna hurt me if I ever t-told anyone!" She lets out a sob. "I don't wanna get hurt, please don't tell him, please!"

"Oh, Addie..." Blue carefully pulls Addie into their lap, stroking her hair and rocking her as she cries. "Oh, you poor dear," they whisper. "You're so brave, so brave for telling me. So strong."

Addie shakes her head, hiding her face in Blue's shoulder, and they just keep whispering comforting words to her until she calms down.

By the time Addie has stopped crying, it's dark outside. She still sniffles and hiccups, trembling slightly, but the sobs and tears have subsided.

"...Blue?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

She plays with the fabric of their shirt. "Mister Kenny said I would never get 'dopted. He said I was too annoying. Am I too annoying?"

"No." Blue holds her close. "No, you're not even a little bit annoying, Addie. And I know you're going to be adopted soon."

Addie looks up at them curiously. "You do?"

"Mmhm." Blue smiles at her. "If you'd like, maybe... Maybe I could adopt you?"

Addie blinks. "You mean it?"

"Of course! I mean, there's some things I have to do first, but--oh!"

Addie wraps her arms tightly around Blue's neck, fresh tears falling down her cheeks as she laughs.

"You gotta! You gotta! Please, I'll be real good, I promise!"

Blue chuckles, hugging her warmly. "Alright, I'll talk to Miss Liza, and there's someone you'll have to meet first, but then I promise I'll adopt you, okay?"

She nods energetically. "Yes! Thank you thank you thank you!"

That night, Liza sends Addie to bed and makes herself and Blue some coffee. They talk for a few hours, some of which Blue spends comforting a crying Liza. By the time Blue is leaving, they have a list of everything they need in order to adopt Addie, and Liza has agreed to go to the police about her husband's actions.

---

The next morning, Blue and Angel have a talk, and in the end, Angel wholeheartedly agrees to take in Addie, though he has some concerns on how she'll feel about him.

A few more weeks go by, during which Blue and Liza take Addie out to get new clothes and ice cream, and Blue introduces her to Angel (which goes well, surprisingly enough), though more often than not, they just stay at the bookshop. Soon, Blue, Liza, and Addie are all standing outside of Blue's house. Liza--no longer wearing a ring on her finger--gives Addie--now with nicer clothes and the same wild hair--a tight hug, and laughs as she receives one from Blue.

"You visit us anytime," Blue tells her, smiling while Addie clings to their leg. Liza nods, says her goodbyes, and gets in her car. With a final wave out the window, she's gone, leaving Blue and Addie--now parent and child, legally--to their home.

Blue offers a hand to Addie, who takes it happily.

"Ready to see your new home, kiddo?"

Addie nods excitedly, her curls bouncing. Blue chuckles and leads her inside.

Throughout the whole tour of the house, Addie's eyes are wide with wonder and disbelief. And when they get to her room, she seems even more shocked.

It's not a very big room, but the way it's decorated more than makes up for it. A four-poster bed with sheer dark blue curtains is in the far right corner, and the lamp on the bedside table is a replica of the Goblet of Fire. Small decals of dragons are stuck on the window, and a large Narnia-esque wardrobe is pushed up against the left wall. The pale blue walls themselves have posters and quotes stuck to them, as well as fairy lights that hang up near the ceiling. A bookshelf stands by the door, some of the shelves holding classics and Addie's favorites, but most of the shelves are empty. A toy chest rests at the foot of the bed, decorated to look like a Hogwarts student's trunk.

Addie walks to the middle of the room and slowly turns, taking it all in.

"This... This is all for me?"

Blue nods, resting a hand on her shoulder. "All of this and more, Addie. We can fill your bookshelf, and your wardrobe, and your toy chest with anything you like."

Addie looks up at them with a wide grin. "This is amazing! It looks like the Ravenclaw room!"

Blue laughs. "I'm glad! It's what I was going for."

Addie reaches up, making grabby hands, and Blue picks her up, resting her on their hip. She hugs their neck tightly.

"Thank you so much, Blue," she whispers.

"Of course, Addie," Blue softly replies. "Anything for you."

That night, everyone eats dinner together: two loving parents, and their new daughter.

//Everyone, please welcome our newest member, Addie! Addie is now a part of Blue's blog! Feel free to talk to her, as I'm sure she'd love some new friends!

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